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cuntyji · 3 days ago

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MEOW OR NEVER ౨ৎ GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: when your mom told you to steer clear of men, you didn't think she meant all of them - fur, whiskers, and all. but hey, maybe naming your cat mr. pickles was where you went wrong, considering she's apparently a mrs. now. and oh, she's pregnant. great. just fantastic. enter suguru geto, your drop-dead gorgeous neighbor, who's not just good at stealing glances but also at being a reluctant father - well, kitten father. turns out, his annoyingly smug orange menace named gojo's the reason you're now an unplanned (grand)parent. is this co-parenting arrangement going to end in peace, or in pieces? or worse, feelings? spoiler alert: suguru geto's got more than just child support to offer, and he's about to prove it in ways that'll have you questioning who the real stray here is.

warnings & tags: fluff and crack, eventual romance, no angst, geto is a year older than reader, geto is an (international) law student implied to be rich, reader's college program is not specified, strangers to friends to lovers, eventual smut (oral, f & m + 69). cast: geto, catoru (gojo is a tabby cat), yaga, sukuna, choso, yuuji, shoko, brief mention of utahime and nanami.

author's note: how i feel adding a graphic after not touching any editing apps since eight grade: 🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺. first long-fic on here and it is obviously for my @norikuna <3 i had so much fun writing geto, i hope you like this, and yes i named her mr. pickles after your meet-cute fic/s. ‼️ i recommend reading on ao3, as tumblr's formatting this fic very poorly and often times the fic has long paragraphs mashed together. i'm so sorry, but please enjoy!

chapter one: guess who's expecting (hint: it's not you)

when your mother warned you to stay away from men, you didn’t realize she meant all species of men. in your defense, you didn’t even know mr. pickles was…well, a dudette. a full-fledged woman, even.

judging by her usual air of indifference toward the struggles of life—whether it be a broken mug, burnt toast, or the existential dread and fear of capitalism looming over you—you’d assumed she was male. an assumption, it seems, born of sheer hubris. after all, you’d done thorough background checks on everyone else you let into your life. everyone except the stray cat that had waddled into your overpriced studio apartment one rainy night and decided it was hers.

the truth? you didn’t mind. between cramming for your degree and surviving the post-mortem of your relationships (both romantic and platonic, because apparently humans are terrible at consistency), mr. pickles became the one reliable constant in your life. albeit a hairy, aloof constant who occasionally brought you hairballs and dead bugs as sacrificial offerings to her goddess. you, of course, were said goddess.

any normal, functioning adult would have taken her to a shelter, or maybe put up a flyer: “found: one stray cat, bad attitude included.” but you, lonely soul that you were, took her in. except, it hadn’t been that simple. no, the first night you met her was anything but serene.

you were drunk. plastered. wobbling through the door with a bag of takeout in one hand and your heels in the other, ready to collapse onto your bed and dream about a life where rent didn’t cost your soul. but instead of an empty apartment greeting you, there she was. sitting smack in the middle of your living room like some furry squatters’ rights advocate, tail flicking with utter disdain.

you froze, still holding the doorknob, as your eyes locked with hers.

"what the—" you whispered, blinking hard to confirm you weren’t hallucinating. nope, she was real.

the cat let out a long, guttural “yeowwwwwwwwwl,” like she was just as horrified by you as you were by her.

you screamed. naturally. "who are you?! how did you get in here?! security’s supposed to be good—oh my god, is that a rat?"

she screamed back, launching into an impressive round of yowls that rattled your very bones. it became a chaotic symphony of you, still holding your takeout, pointing at her with your shoe, while she darted back and forth in an apparent panic over your panic.

"okay, okay," you gasped after what felt like hours but was probably five minutes. "just—calm down! i’ll call the cops or animal control or—do i even know animal control’s number? is that a thing people know?!"

the cat paused mid-panic, tilting her head as if considering whether you were worth the hassle. then, slowly and with the grace of a self-proclaimed queen, she sat back down.

you stood there, panting, wide-eyed, and still clutching your takeout like a lifeline. "are…are you done? can i move now?"

she gave a single chirp in response.

you blinked. "was that a yes?"

another chirp.

"okay, cool. good talk," you muttered, inching toward the kitchen counter to set your stuff down. "you know, you really picked the wrong apartment to haunt, bro. you don’t wanna hang out here."

she followed you, hopping onto the counter with zero hesitation.

"oh, you’ve got nerve," you grumbled, waving a hand. "get down. that’s…oh my god, is that chicken grease? you’re gonna get salmonella. do cats get salmonella?"

the cat meowed, which you took as a very sarcastic no.

you sighed. "great. now i’ve got a cat."

let’s rewind back to the future, to the moment you found out mr. pickles had a party of tiny paws brewing in her belly. it wasn’t an epiphany that hit you like a bolt of lightning—no, it was a series of increasingly bizarre events that gradually chipped away at your ignorance until the horrifyingly adorable truth came crashing down.

first, let’s talk about “pinking up.” apparently, around 16-20 days into pregnancy, a cat’s nipples turn pinker and more prominent—a fact you learned after a very awkward google search. not that you were actively inspecting mr. pickles’ nipples. that felt…wrong. but you did notice, eventually. the weight gain started subtly, a little extra fluff around her midsection that you brushed off as the result of switching to a premium brand of cat food. "guess the organic kibble’s working," you mumbled one evening as mr. pickles sprawled on the couch like a spoiled heiress. she blinked at you, unimpressed, before rolling onto her side, belly on full display. it was… rounder than usual. suspiciously so. but denial is a hell of a drug.

then came the morning she beat you to the bathroom. literally.

you were nursing a wicked hangover, the kind that makes you reconsider every life decision leading up to the night before. groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed and toward the bathroom, only to freeze in the doorway. there was mr. pickles, perched in your shower cubicle, hurling her guts out like she’d been partying harder than you. "what the—" you started, but she cut you off with another violent retch. you just stood there, slack-jawed, your own nausea momentarily forgotten. "are you… hungover? can cats be hungover?" she ignored you, finishing her business before hopping out of the shower with a nonchalance that screamed you’ll clean that up, right?

and the sleeping? don’t even get started on the sleeping. mr. pickles, your once lively (read: temperamental) companion, now spent her days passed out in the weirdest positions. you’d leave for class, catch her sprawled upside down on the couch with her legs in the air, and come back hours later to find her in the exact same spot. the first time it happened, you panicked.

“mr. pickles?” you whispered, crouching beside her. no response.

"oh my god, are you dead?" you poked her back. nothing.

just as you were about to call your landlord and have him prepare for the worst, mr. pickles let out the laziest, most judgmental yawn you’d ever heard.

then came the personality shift. the mr. pickles you knew—the one who hissed at your laptop every time you opened it, as if microsoft word had committed a personal offense—was gone. in her place was a clingy, purring ball of affection. she started curling up on your lap while you worked, purring loud enough to rival an industrial saw. “awwww, who’s a good kitty?” you cooed, melting into the moment. and then she shed enough fur on your clothes to build a second cat.

but the final straw, the one that shattered your fragile understanding of reality, was the nesting.

you came home one evening to find mr. pickles frantically rearranging your laundry basket, clawing at the clothes and dragging them into a fluffy pile. she paused when you entered, her eyes wild with an intensity you’d never seen before.

"uhh…what are you doing?" you asked, only to be met with a deep, guttural growl. "okay, that’s new," you muttered, backing away slowly. "you do…whatever that is."

it hit you then. the weight gain, the puking, the clinginess, the nesting. oh my god.

"oh my god," you whispered, clutching the counter for support. "mr. pickles is a girl."

your world tilted. memories of every time you called her sir or buddy flashed before your eyes. you were the problem.

you rushed her to the vet the next day, bursting through the door like a contestant on a reality show. "she’s been acting weird," you blurted to the receptionist. "and by weird, i mean…is she pregnant?"

one checkup later, the vet turned to you with a warm smile and uttered the words that changed everything: “congratulations, you’re a mother.”

your jaw dropped. "what? no. no, i’m not. she’s—she’s the mother!" you gestured wildly to mr. pickles, who was now lounging on the exam table like this was all very boring. the vet chuckled. “well, technically, that makes you a grandmother.”

a grandmother. you, a college student, were a grandmother.

as you drove home in stunned silence, mr. pickles stretched out in the passenger seat, her belly looking smugly round. you glanced at her, still reeling.

“does this mean i have to start calling you mrs. pickles now?”

she purred. of course she purred.

chapter 2: welcome to parenthood, kinda

the day after the vet visit, you were a woman on a mission. holding mr. pickles up like she was a fragile artifact, you found yourself wandering the corridors of your apartment building, knocking on doors and attempting to uncover the truth behind your feline’s unexpected condition. sure, your mother raised you single-handedly, but did that mean you had to take on the role of a cat grandmother solo? absolutely not.

the first stop was masamichi yaga, your landlord. you weren’t sure why you started with the most intimidating person in the building, but desperation has a way of clouding judgment. his door creaked open, revealing the towering man himself, wearing a slightly bemused expression. “uhh …good morning, mr. yaga,” you stammered, clutching mr. pickles tighter for moral support. “i—uh—wanted to ask…do you have a cat?” he raised an eyebrow. “a cat?”

“yeah,” you said, awkwardly adjusting your grip on mr. pickles. “because, um, she’s pregnant, and i was wondering if—well, you know…”

yaga blinked at you for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. “no, i don’t have a cat. the only thing i house around here is pandas.”

you stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came. “...pandas?”

“yup. no cats.”

you decided not to press further. “right. okay. thanks, anyway.” you shuffled away, cheeks burning, as he closed the door behind you with a definitive click.

next, you made your way to choso’s apartment. you’d seen the guy a few times in the hallway—tall, always dressed like he’d just walked out of a corporate ad, with an aura of quiet exhaustion that screamed salaryman. when he opened the door, he looked down at you with mild surprise, a coffee mug in one hand. “hi,” you greeted, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze. “i, uh, have a question. do you happen to own a cat?”

choso blinked, glancing at mr. pickles, who let out a disinterested meow. “no, i don’t.”

“are you sure?” you pressed. “because my cat is pregnant, and—”

“i’m sure,” he cut in gently, though his tone held the same weariness you felt every monday morning. “i barely have time to take care of my brothers, let alone a pet.”

“brothers?”

“yeah.” he took a sip of his coffee. “one of them’s a high schooler. the other one…well, he’s sukuna.”

you froze. “wait. sukuna? as in, the scary guy with the tattoos who glares at everyone when he smokes in the hallway?”

choso nodded. “he’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

you had your doubts but decided not to argue. “right. okay. thanks anyway.”

your next stop was shoko’s apartment. you’d always admired her cool, no-nonsense vibe, but the dark circles under her eyes told you she probably didn’t have time for a pet. still, you knocked. when the door opened, shoko stood there, looking like she hadn’t slept in three days but somehow still pulled it off effortlessly.

“hey,” you said, trying to sound casual. “do you have a cat?”

“a cat?” she repeated, leaning against the doorframe. “no. i’m barely home enough to keep my plants alive, let alone a pet.”

you nodded, biting back a sigh. “yeah, that makes sense.”

“why?” she asked, eyeing mr. pickles. “is she yours?”

“yeah. she’s pregnant.”

shoko raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “congrats, grandma.”

“don’t remind me,” you groaned. “thanks anyway.”

lastly, you tried suguru geto’s apartment. according to the building’s handbook, he was your neighbor on the floor above. but when you knocked, there was no answer. “great,” you muttered, glancing down at mr. pickles. “our prime suspect isn’t even home. what now?”

mr. pickles responded by squirming in your arms, clearly unimpressed with your sleuthing skills.

defeated, you trudged back to your apartment, where the reality of impending grandmotherhood sank in further. with no leads and no one to pin the blame on, you flopped onto your couch, setting mr. pickles down beside you. she stretched lazily, looking far too pleased with herself.

“this is your fault, you know,” you muttered, pointing a finger at her. she responded with a purr, curling up into a fluffy ball of indifference.

great. just great. looks like you were in this alone—again.

evening rolled in, and with it came mr. pickles’s dinner time. lately, you’d been overly cautious about her diet and mood—the whole pregnancy thing and all—but tonight? tonight she was testing your last nerve. there she was, stationed by the door like her life depended on it, yowling dramatically with an almost operatic flair. her tail flicked like a metronome, her cries growing more pitiful by the second. “oh, come on,” you groaned, setting her food bowl down with an exasperated sigh. “what’s with you tonight? you’ve eaten like, three times already.”

mr. pickles, naturally, ignored you, clawing at the door with all the determination of someone who just had to get out. “fine,” you muttered, stomping toward the door. “but i swear, if there’s a stray out there, you can explain yourself, motherf—”

you flung the door open mid-rant and promptly froze.

standing in your doorway was a man. a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome man with long, silky black hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck and bangs that framed his angular face like he’d just stepped off the cover of handsome landlord quarterly. he wore a plain black sweater, dark trousers, and an expression that was equal parts bemused and apologetic. but your attention snapped to the cat he was holding aloft—an orange tabby with piercingly bright blue eyes that were somehow both smug and indifferent at the same time. “uh…hi,” he said, his voice deep and smooth with an edge of uncertainty. “this yours?”

“that’s…not my cat,” you managed, pointing awkwardly at the tabby.

“figured,” he said, glancing past you into your apartment where mr. pickles was now peeking out, her ears perked and tail bristled like an antenna. “he’s mine. name’s gojo. found him sitting outside my door screaming his lungs out, so i thought maybe…” his words trailed off as his gaze flicked between you, mr. pickles, and gojo. then, realization dawned on his face.

“wait.” he looked at mr. pickles, then back at you. “is your cat…?”

“pregnant?” you supplied flatly. “yep. as of about a week ago, thanks for asking.”

geto—because of course you’d figured out that this very handsome man was suguru geto from the floor above—blinked, visibly processing this information. “huh,” he said finally, his brow furrowing as he glanced at gojo. “but…gojo’s neutered.”

“what?” you blurted, staring at the smug orange tabby who looked anything but neutered. “yeah, had it done ages ago.” geto tilted his head, clearly as baffled as you. “so how the hell…?” you pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache blooming. “you’re saying there’s no way it could’ve been him?”

“not unless he figured out how to reverse a neuter,” geto said dryly, his lips twitching in a bemused smile. you both looked at the cats the—gojo, lounging smugly in geto’s arms, and mr. pickles, glaring daggers from the safety of the couch. “okay,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. “if not gojo, then who? because i don’t exactly let her out, and she’s been acting weird for weeks.”

“well…” geto began, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “he did sneak out a couple of times last month, but i didn’t think—”

“oh my god,” you groaned, cutting him off. “are you telling me your supposedly neutered cat is actually some kind of feline lothario who managed to knock up my cat on one of his escapades?”

“it’s not like i planned this,” geto defended, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. you shot him a look, but before you could respond, gojo meowed loudly, almost like he was bragging. “great,” you muttered, throwing your hands up. “just great. now i have to deal with kittens, rent, and figuring out how the hell to co-parent with the guy next door who can’t keep his cat under control.”

geto chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with genuine amusement. “well, if it helps, i’m pretty good with kids. or kittens, in this case.” you stared at him, incredulous. “this isn’t funny.”

“oh, come on,” he teased, his smirk widening. “it’s a little funny.” you groaned again, retreating into your apartment. “this is a nightmare.”

“or an adventure,” geto countered, stepping back into the hallway with a casual wave. “let me know if you need any help. babysitting, moral support, whatever.” and just like that, he was gone, leaving you with a very pregnant mr. pickles, a smug orange tabby, and far too many questions about how you’d managed to land yourself in this ridiculous situation.

the realization hit you as soon as you pressed "send." oh no. oh no, no, no.

did you really just text suguru geto—your neighbor, a man who likely had better things to do than deal with your ridiculous antics a demand for child support? for cats? you flopped face-first onto your couch, groaning into a throw pillow. “what the hell is wrong with me?” mr. pickles, lounging on the armrest, flicked her tail and let out a smug little chirp, as if she’d orchestrated the entire debacle. “you’re no help,” you muttered, rolling onto your back to glare at her.

but it was too late now. the text was sent, sitting in geto’s inbox like an uninvited guest at a party. you imagined him reading it, probably over a cup of coffee in his immaculate apartment upstairs, eyebrows raised in disbelief before muttering something like, what the hell is this?

“what was i expecting?” you asked the ceiling. “a courtroom? with gojo cat wearing a tiny tie and confessing his sins?” mr. pickles yawned, completely uninterested in your spiral.

“ugh,” you grumbled, standing up. “whatever. it’s his problem now.”

bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, you shuffled to the door the next morning to grab the newspaper. the universe owed you at least one boring morning after last night’s embarrassment. but as you opened the door, your sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. there, sitting on your front porch, was a 5kg bag of premium cat food, the kind you’d seen in the store once and immediately walked past because it cost more than your monthly grocery budget. “what the…” you muttered, crouching down to inspect it.

taped to the bag was a folded piece of paper with the words “child support :)” scrawled in smooth, confident handwriting. beneath the note was what looked suspiciously like a paw print in ink. you squinted, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. “no. absolutely not. did he—did they actually ink up the cat for this?” you glanced down the hallway, half-expecting geto to pop out from behind a corner and yell “gotcha!” but it was eerily quiet. mr. pickles, who had wandered over to investigate, sniffed the bag and let out an excited meow, her tail curling in approval. “of course you’re happy,” you said, picking up the note and reading it again. “this is like winning the lottery for you.”

you flipped the paper over, looking for more, but that was it. just “child support :)” and a smug paw print. “oh my god,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. “he’s good. he’s really good.” you set the bag inside and grabbed your phone, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. what were you even supposed to say to this? thank you? an apology for being unhinged?

before you could overthink it, a new message lit up your screen.

geto: hope this helps. let me know if you need anything else. gojo says hi.

you stared at the message for a long moment, torn between laughter and mortification.

“what do i even say to that?” you asked mr. pickles, who was now trying to claw her way into the bag of food. she didn’t respond, obviously, but you took her enthusiasm as a sign to type out the least embarrassing reply you could muster.

you: thanks. mr. pickles says hi too. sorry about the text, was half-asleep. really appreciate this though.

a reply came almost instantly.

geto: no problem. wasn’t sure how much to get, so i just grabbed the fanciest one. figured she deserves it.

you snorted, shaking your head. “what are you, cat royalty?”

mr. pickles let out a pleased chirp, pawing at the bag triumphantly, and you couldn’t help but laugh. whatever this situation was, at least mr. pickles was happy. and, okay, maybe suguru geto wasn’t completely terrible either.

you thought life couldn’t get more ridiculous after the whole “child support” stunt. but somehow, suguru geto managed to raise the bar so high that it was practically doing pull-ups in the stratosphere. because when you stepped out of your apartment to grab some fresh air and regroup after being up all night with a cuddly mr. pickles, you realized geto had turned this entire ordeal into a neighborhood event. “did he… throw a party without telling me?” you muttered to yourself, narrowing your eyes as you spotted a small, hand-decorated sign taped to the landlord’s door. it read: "congrats to the new parents: gojo & mr. pickles!”

“new parents?” you said aloud, incredulous.

as if summoned by your confusion, choso’s door creaked open, and yuuji popped his head out, looking entirely too enthusiastic for such an early hour. “hey, neighbor! did you see the banner?” you blinked at him. “banner?”

yuuji pointed down the hallway. you squinted and, sure enough, there it was — a banner strung across the hallway ceiling that read: "welcome baby kittens!!!" in what looked like glitter glue. “oh my god.” you pressed a hand to your forehead. “he didn’t.”

“he totally did!” yuuji grinned, stepping fully into the hallway. “he came by earlier and told me about gojo being a dad. so cool, right? i mean, gojo’s kind of an idiot, but hey, every cat deserves a shot at fatherhood.”

“yuuji,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “he’s not an actual dad. this isn’t a sitcom. it’s just…biology.” yuuji shrugged. “biology, destiny, same thing. oh, by the way, geto dropped off cookies! want one?” you looked down and noticed yuuji holding a plate of cookies shaped like tiny cats.

“what the—did he bake these?”

“nah, i think he bought them,” yuuji said, biting into one. “but still. pretty neat, huh?” you groaned, muttering, “neat isn’t the word i’d use.”

just as you turned to head back into your apartment and escape the madness, there was a loud, insistent scratching at your door. you froze. “don’t tell me…”

yuuji, still chewing on his cookie, pointed. “that’s probably gojo. he’s been making rounds all morning trying to visit your cat. i think he’s really taking this fatherhood thing seriously.” you stormed to your door and there he was—gojo cat, gojo the cat, his bright blue eyes wide and hopeful as he pawed at the doorway like a love-struck romeo. “oh, for crying out loud,” you muttered, scooping him up and holding him at arm’s length as you entered your house. “what do you think you’re doing?” gojo meowed pitifully, his tail flicking as he looked past you toward mr. pickles, who was curled up on her blanket, looking utterly unimpressed. “she’s not interested, casanova,” you told him, turning to yuuji. “can you take him back before he climbs my curtains again?” yuuji laughed, taking the cat from you. “no problem. come on, gojo. let’s give her some space.”

as yuuji disappeared down the hall with gojo, you closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. but before you could even sit down, your phone buzzed.

geto: hope you’re enjoying the festivities. gojo’s a little excited, but who can blame him? parenthood changes you.

you stared at the message, your eye twitching.

you: i'm one sleepless night away from snapping. please stop turning my life into a hallmark movie.

geto: don’t be shy. you’re the real hero here, grandma.

you groaned, tossing your phone onto the couch. mr. pickles, who had been watching the entire ordeal with an air of feline superiority, let out a small, smug purr. “don’t you start,” you told her, flopping onto the couch. “at least it’s a long weekend.” but deep down, you knew there was no such thing as peace—not when suguru geto and his ridiculous orange menace were involved.

suguru geto was not having a good day.

he sighed, leaning back against his couch as the familiar hum of embarrassment settled over him. gojo cat, sprawled across the armrest, gave a half-hearted meow, probably to mock him. he’d woken up to him scratching at his front door like a lunatic, yowling for his morning ritual of inspecting the hallway for signs of mr. pickles. the normally smug and self-satisfied orange menace had been acting weird for days—restless, meowing at windows, and straight-up bolting every time geto so much as opened the front door. it had taken geto exactly one trip downstairs to realize why.

you. or more specifically, your cat.

geto hadn’t even known you had a cat until he’d knocked on your door last week, with mr. pickles in the background like some furry empress. now, not only did he know, but he also had the dubious honor of being the grandfather of mr. pickles’ unborn kittens. “how did it even come to this?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the glittery “welcome baby kittens!!!” banner he’d put up in the hallway. he knew he was making things worse for himself, but honestly, it was better than sitting in his apartment, spiraling. he sighed, looking down at gojo, who was perched on the armrest of the couch, lazily licking a paw. “you couldn’t just chill, could you?” geto said, narrowing his eyes at the cat. “no, you had to go and ruin my already complicated life. do you know how awkward this is? do you?”

gojo blinked at him, clearly unbothered. “of course you don’t,” geto muttered. “you’re a cat.”

the thing was, geto had genuinely thought he’d be cool about this whole situation. sure, it was a little weird to be co-parenting kittens with the girl he’d had a hallway crush on for months, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle it. except he wasn’t handling it. he’d told yuuji. he’d told yaga. he’d even left cookies for shoko. and now half the building knew about gojo’s escapades. “what am i doing?” he groaned, leaning back on the couch and covering his face with his hands. “you know, this is all your fault,” geto muttered, glaring at the cat. gojo, unbothered, blinked lazily.

geto had been a lot of things in his years of life—student, aspiring lawyer, occasional cat dad—but one thing he wasn’t was smooth when it came to you. you, the girl from another department who lived one floor below him. you, the one who always looked like you belonged in a wes anderson movie, with your half-hidden smiles and humour. you, who somehow managed to make even the most mundane hallway interactions feel like they had a gravitational pull. geto groaned, pressing his palms into his face. he was this close to becoming a tragic cliché.

it wasn’t like he’d never tried to talk to you before. he had. there was that one time in the campus library, where he’d psych himself up for twenty minutes only for you to leave before he could string a coherent sentence together. or the time in the cafeteria when he thought about offering you a seat at his table but chickened out because he was certain his friends would tease him for weeks. “this is what rock bottom feels like,” he muttered to himself.

he wasn’t even supposed to live in this building. as an international law major with a full schedule and internships on the horizon, he should’ve been in one of the fancier complexes closer to campus, but fate—or sheer bad luck—had landed him here. not that he could complain. not when you were his downstairs neighbor. he had always figured you were out of reach, though. you had this aura of being completely in your own world—poised, a little reserved, but not in a way that came off as unapproachable. more like you were quietly observing the chaos around you, letting it wash over you like a passing breeze. and he’d been content to admire you from afar. well, mostly content. but now? there was a knock at the door.

geto froze.

“please don’t let it be her,” he whispered, praying to whatever higher power might be listening.

it was you. standing in his apartment building, holding a note he wrote about “child support.”

“hey,” you said, holding up a piece of paper. “you forgot this.”

“oh,” he said dumbly. “right. thanks.”

you stepped inside, looking around at the various cat-themed decorations geto had somehow acquired in the past 24 hours. “so… big fan of cats, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. geto felt his face heat up. “uh, yeah. something like that.” you smirked, crossing your arms. “you know, you didn’t have to go all out like this. it’s not that big of a deal.”

“not a big deal?” geto repeated, incredulous. “your cat is having kittens with my cat. that’s, like… monumental.” you rolled your eyes. “they’re cats , geto. not royal heirs.”

“still,” he said, crossing his arms defensively. “i’m just trying to be responsible here.” you looked at him for a long moment, and geto swore he saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in your eyes. “responsible?” you repeated. “is that why you’ve turned our hallway into a petting zoo?” geto opened his mouth to argue but stopped when gojo jumped down from the couch and strutted over to you, rubbing against your legs like the shameless flirt he was. “traitor,” geto muttered under his breath. you crouched down to pet gojo, a small smile tugging at your lips. “well, at least someone knows how to make a good impression.”

geto stared at you, his brain short-circuiting. “uh, yeah,” he said finally. “he’s… he’s good at that.” you stood up, brushing cat fur off your hands. “anyway, thanks for the food. mr. pickles appreciates it.”

“no problem,” geto said, trying to sound casual. “you know, if you ever need help with… anything, just let me know.” you raised an eyebrow. “like what? cat parenting classes?”

“sure,” geto said, shrugging. “or, you know, anything else.” you gave him a long, considering look before finally nodding. “i’ll keep that in mind,” you said, turning to leave. “thanks, grandpa.”

geto groaned as the door closed behind you. “what am i even doing?” he muttered again, looking down at gojo, who had jumped back onto the couch, looking entirely too smug. the cat meowed, as if to say, you’re welcome.

chapter 3: first we stalk, then we brunch

later in the evening, you found yourself huddled under your comforter, laptop balanced precariously on your knees. mr. pickles was curled up at your feet, occasionally flicking her tail, as if silently judging you. you ignored her. tonight, you had a mission: to do a deep dive into the enigma that was suguru geto. you weren’t proud of yourself, okay? but curiosity had officially killed the cat—or at least put her temporarily out of commission. like any sensible person armed with curiosity and internet access, you turned to linkedin. not instagram, not facebook—linkedin. because nothing screams “serious investigation” like stalking someone’s professional achievements. “let’s see what we’ve got, mr. pickles,” you muttered, typing “suguru geto” into the search bar on the holy grail of professional snooping. mr. pickles perched regally at the foot of your bed, her gaze judgmental as ever. “don’t give me that look,” you muttered. “i’m doing this for you.”

within seconds, his profile loaded up, and your jaw practically hit the floor.

suguru geto wasn’t just good-looking. oh no. he was an overachiever of the highest order. his profile picture was annoyingly perfect: a candid (but totally staged) shot of him sitting at a café, holding a cup of coffee in one hand while looking thoughtfully into the distance, as if he’d just solved world hunger. his headline read:

suguru geto | international law student | aspiring global policymaker | passionate about justice and equality

“ugh,” you groaned, scrolling further. “passionate about justice? who is this guy?” his bio didn’t help matters. it was filled with phrases like ‘dedicated to fostering positive global change’ and ‘committed to bridging the gap between policy and implementation.’

“committed to being annoyingly perfect, maybe,” you muttered, side-eyeing mr. pickles. she let out a half-hearted meow that you chose to interpret as agreement. his experience section was even worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it. a summer internship at the UN where he ‘assisted in drafting resolutions and collaborated with member states on sustainable development initiatives.’ worked as a legal intern at some fancy law firm with a french name you couldn’t pronounce, where he ‘focused on international human rights cases, with a specific emphasis on refugee protection.’ not to mention being a volunteer coordinator for a charity in sri lanka, where he ‘organized relief efforts and distributed supplies to displaced families during the holiday season.’

“okay, mr. pickles,” you said, glancing at the unimpressed feline. “this guy’s either a saint or a robot.” what shocked you most wasn’t his saintly résumé, but the fact that he went to the same university as you. you stared at the screen, stunned. “how the hell did i not know this?” his “education” section confirmed it:

bachelor’s in international law | current student

active member of the debate team and global policy forum

that explains it, you thought. you were a year younger and in an entirely different department—he probably had his head buried in treaties while you scrambled through your own projects. still, the idea of suguru walking the same hallways as you sent your mind reeling. “was he in the cafeteria when i spilled coffee on myself that one time?” you wondered aloud. as you continued scrolling, you stumbled upon his posts. his posts swung wildly between annoyingly inspirational and oddly endearing.

the first was a very cheesy, slightly-too-polished “ringing in the new year” post, complete with a stock photo of fireworks and an unnecessarily long caption: ‘as we close the chapter on another year, let us remember the power of community and resilience. cheers to 365 days of growth, learning, and striving for a better world!’

“uggghhh, gag me,” you snorted, though you couldn’t help but admire how polished it all was.

then there was a post featuring none other than gojo cat sprawled on a cushion, mid-snore. the caption read: ‘cats are not just pets—they are companions, teachers, and sometimes, our greatest confidants. thank you, gojo, for reminding me to appreciate the little joys in life.’

“confidants? really?” you muttered, holding back a laugh. “what secrets are you sharing with your cat, suguru?” the pièce de résistance, however, was a post about his recent trip to sri lanka. it included a photo of him kneeling next to a group of kids, all of them smiling brightly, while he held a giant sack of rice. ‘spending christmas eve here has been a humbling experience. giving is not just about material wealth but about offering hope and kindness. #holidaygiving #payitforward’

“oh, come on,” you groaned. “who even has time for all of this?” mr. pickles let out an approving meow, her ears twitching at the picture. “not you too,” you sighed. just as you were about to close the tab, a final post caught your eye. it was from a few months ago: a blurry picture of the university quad, with a caption that read: ‘sometimes, it’s the quiet moments on campus that remind you why you started this journey. grateful for this space, these people, and this path.’

“quiet moments, huh?” you mused, leaning back against your pillows. “maybe he’s not all bad.” mr. pickles let out a disapproving chirp, as if to say, focus on the fact that he’s responsible for my current condition, thank you. and just when you thought you’d seen it all, there was his international cat day post. gojo cat lay sprawled in the background, his belly exposed, looking utterly unbothered. geto had written an almost poetic ode to feline companionship. ‘in a world filled with noise, cats remind us to listen to silence. they are the quiet guardians of our souls.’

you couldn’t help but snort. “quiet guardians? mr. pickles, your baby daddy is a poet now.” mr. pickles gave a soft chirp, as if to say, better him than some nobody. “fine,” you relented, closing your laptop. “maybe he’s not terrible. just… annoyingly perfect.” but as you lay back against your pillows, a nagging thought lingered: why had he never said anything? you’d walked the same hallways, shared the same campus, yet he’d never even made a passing hello. was he too busy, or something else? either way, you weren’t sure whether to be impressed or annoyed. probably both.

suguru geto prided himself on being polished and refined. and he had standards okay? he wasn’t some creep skulking around in the shadows. he was a man of composure, logic, and discipline. but all of that went out the window when it came to you. he is also an upstanding citizen who just happened to know your spotify account, which he checked semi-regularly. for research purposes, obviously. it started innocently enough—getting your instagram handle. no big deal. he hadn’t even followed you right away, worried it might seem weird coming out of nowhere. it was all very calculated: a "friend of a friend of a classmate of a third cousin" pipeline that eventually led him to your public page. a click here, a scroll there, and boom—your instagram aesthetic was forever seared into his memory. but social media wasn’t enough. no, geto was too curious (and maybe just a bit too pathetic) to stop there. this led him to your spotify.

now, he didn’t just stumble upon your spotify profile by chance. this particular treasure hunt began at a house party at the start of the year. utahime had made a collaborative playlist for everyone, and while everyone else just added their favorite songs, geto decided to dive deep. deep as in scrolling through over 150 accounts connected to the playlist just to find yours. “there it is,” he had muttered triumphantly back then, his lips twitching into a satisfied smile. “gotcha.” and from that moment, your spotify profile became his guilty pleasure. your profile picture at the time? a blurry photo of what looked like you holding a glass of wine at some fancy rooftop bar. but the playlists were the real treasure.

your “gym rat” playlist was his favorite, with high energy tracks, peppered with one or two questionable choices. seriously, why was there a taylor swift song in the middle of your workout playlist? your “in the clerb, we all cryin’” playlist was interesting to say the least, comprising of indie ballads, heart-wrenching acoustics, and, for some reason, a single abba track. then there was ��road trip,” featuring everything from funky throwbacks to an absurd number of songs by chappell roan. “you’ve got taste,” geto muttered to himself, clicking into the playlists one by one. “questionable taste in some areas, but still…” he often scrolled through your profile aimlessly, not necessarily looking for anything new, but just existing in your world, even if it was through music. tonight, he found himself back on your page, like some kind of masochistic ritual.

his eyes drifted to his chrome tabs, where your spotify was bookmarked for easy access. it was right there, sandwiched between his email inbox, an online soba delivery menu, an article titled “10 Tips for Acing Your Next Law Internship” and a tab about international trade law regulations. “no new playlists,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. your gym playlist hadn’t been updated in six months (“what happened to your gym rat era?”), and your grwm playlist was untouched. “slacking, hm?” gojo cat, perched on the edge of the desk, gave him a slow blink. “boring night for you too, huh?” geto sighed dramatically, glancing over at gojo cat sprawled on his lap. the feline barely flicked an ear in response. “don’t look at me like that,” geto said, narrowing his eyes at the feline. “this is completely normal behavior. i’m not stalking. i’m just… maintaining a healthy level of interest.”

“it’s not creepy,” he justified aloud, more to himself than to anyone else. “it’s resourceful. i’m just staying informed.” gojo cat stretched lazily, letting out a yawn that sounded suspiciously judgmental. “oh, don’t start,” geto shot back, tapping lightly on the cat’s head. “you’re the reason i even know her in the first place.” geto’s eyes flicked to your “gym rat era” playlist again. still untouched. “what happened to that, by the way?” he asked no one in particular. “gave up? hit your personal best and retired early?” gojo cat pawed at the corner of his laptop, as if trying to close it.

“hey, no,” geto said, swatting the cat’s paw away gently. “i’m in the middle of something important.” his finger hovered over the profile picture you’d updated—something blurry and vaguely artsy. probably taken at a bar or café. he debated clicking it but stopped himself. what was he expecting? some secret hidden bio like “hey, stop creeping”? he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “i’m not weird, right?” he asked the cat.

gojo, being a cat, offered no answer.

“right,” geto muttered. “this is perfectly reasonable. i’m just… interested. it’s not like i’m walking past her door at 3 a.m. or something.” a fleeting daydream crossed his mind—what if the two of you had a shared playlist? something intimate and special, where you both added songs and left little comments. “‘thinking of you when i added this,’” he mused in a mockingly cheesy tone, shaking his head. “god, what am i, thirteen?” still, the thought lingered, making him smile despite himself. just as he began to close the tab, a notification popped up.

[beef_boss_69 has followed you.]

his entire demeanor shifted. “beef boss? beef boss?” geto practically spat the name out. “who the hell—what kind of username is that?” he clicked on the profile, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the new follower. it was a faceless account, with no playlists or followers of its own. “oh, great,” he grumbled. “a bot. or worse, some guy who thinks he’s funny.” he glanced at gojo cat, who looked thoroughly unimpressed. “don’t give me that look,” geto said, pointing at the cat. “you’d be upset too if some guy named beef boss was muscling in on your territory.” gojo cat chirped, which suguru took as a sign of agreement. “exactly,” geto said, nodding to himself. “i mean, what’s next? chicken king 420? pork prince 88?”

he sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “i should just send the linkedin request,” he muttered to himself. “rip the band-aid off. what’s the worst that could happen?” gojo cat let out a loud meow, almost as if to say, you’re never going to do it. “shut up,” geto shot back, though there was no heat behind his words. he closed your spotify tab, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at the thought of actually interacting with you. maybe tomorrow, he thought. or next week. or the next time beef boss made a move. as he shut his laptop, he made a mental note: tomorrow, he’d work up the nerve to send you a linkedin request. baby steps, right?

you weren’t even sure what had pulled you out of bed that morning. was it the ungodly racket outside your door? the growing guilt of not actually reading the paper you insisted on having delivered? or maybe just the suspiciously human-sounding yowls of mr. pickles as she nested in the corner of your room? either way, you’d dragged yourself out of bed, eyes half-closed, hair resembling a bird’s nest, and shuffled toward the door in your favorite—read: most embarrassing—pajamas. and there he was.

suguru geto, standing in front of your door in the crisp morning light, wearing an athletic jacket, sweatpants, and the expression of a man who was absolutely not ready for this level of chaos. attached to his hand was a leash, and attached to the leash was none other than gojo cat himself, strutting like he was the king of the neighborhood. “morning,” geto greeted, his tone breezy but his face clearly betraying some inner turmoil. you blinked at him. “is that… is that a harness?”

“yep.” geto scratched the back of his neck. “gojo here insisted.” as if on cue, gojo cat let out an overly dramatic meow, his bright blue eyes locking onto yours. he looked like a lion surveying his kingdom =—or, more accurately, a spoiled housecat demanding tribute. “you’re taking your cat for a walk?” you asked, still half-asleep and very much regretting this encounter. “yeah, he’s been getting a little… restless,” geto said, glancing down at the fluffball who was now trying to paw at your door. “and by restless, i mean clawing the walls like a maniac at 3 a.m.” gojo cat let out another meow, this one louder, and then craned his neck to peer behind you, as if expecting mr. pickles to emerge in all her pregnant glory. “okay, what’s he doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at the cat. “probably hoping to see his baby mama,” geto replied with a dry chuckle. you stared at him, your brain still buffering from the sheer audacity of that sentence. “baby mama?”

“look,” geto started, suddenly looking flustered, “i was wondering if you… i mean, if she … maybe we could —”

“spit it out.”

“do you wanna join us for a walk?” he blurted, his cheeks faintly pink.

gojo cat meowed again, clearly seconding the idea. or maybe he was just demanding that you bring mr. pickles along. you sighed, glancing over your shoulder at the aforementioned queen of your household, who was currently sprawled on her side like a beached whale. “she’s not exactly in the mood for exercise.” “please,” geto said, his tone bordering on desperate. “it might do her some good. and honestly, it might keep gojo from trying to scale your window again.” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “fine. but you owe me breakfast for this.”

“deal,” geto said immediately, his relief almost palpable.

after an embarrassingly long five minutes of wrangling mr. pickles into her carrier—complete with angry hisses and a swat to your hand—you emerged from your apartment, looking like you were about to march into battle. “ready?” geto asked, his smile equal parts charming and sheepish. “let’s just get this over with,” you grumbled, hoisting the carrier while mr. pickles glared daggers at everyone in sight. as the four of you set off, gojo cat kept glancing back at the carrier, chirping softly as if trying to woo mr. pickles through sheer persistence. “he’s really laying it on thick, huh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “like father, like son,” geto joked, then immediately looked mortified at his own words. you snorted, finally cracking a smile. “careful, geto. i might actually start thinking you’re funny.” he grinned, his confidence seemingly restored. “well, miracles do happen.”

mr. pickles, meanwhile, let out a low growl from her carrier, clearly unimpressed with the whole ordeal. gojo cat chirped in response, pressing his face to the mesh side of the carrier in what could only be described as a show of devotion. “is he always like this?” you asked, watching the ridiculous display. “only when he’s in love,” geto replied, shooting you a look that lingered just a second too long. you pretended not to notice the way your heart skipped a beat. “well, he better not get his hopes up. mr. pickles isn’t exactly the romantic type.” geto chuckled. “guess he’ll just have to win her over.” as the morning sun climbed higher, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this whole ridiculous situation wasn’t so bad after all.

geto meanwhile, was mentally spiraling. he didn’t know what was worse—the “like father, like son” line he’d just dropped on you or the fact that you didn’t immediately burst out laughing and leave him and his ridiculous orange tabby in the dust. instead, you stayed, which only made things harder for him. literally. his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure even mr. pickles could hear it from inside her carrier. he was trying to play it cool, but how was he supposed to do that when his so-called son was busy embarrassing the hell out of him? gojo cat was living his best life, pulling on his leash like a dog on a mission. his blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he trotted beside mr. pickles' carrier, occasionally pawing at the mesh as if trying to “connect” with his beloved. mr. pickles, for her part, was clearly over it. she sat in the carrier like a disgruntled queen, her ears flat and her glare sharp enough to cut diamonds.

“your cat’s persistent,” you said, watching as gojo cat did a full circle around the carrier before flopping dramatically on the sidewalk, belly up, in what looked like a plea for attention. “he’s… special,” geto replied, attempting to reel in the leash as gojo cat kicked his legs in the air, rolling onto his side to stare mournfully at mr. pickles. “gojo, stop being weird.” gojo cat let out a pitiful meow, his paws pressing against the carrier like he was performing some romeo and juliet reenactment. “is this normal?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you crouched to take a closer look. “define normal,” geto deadpanned, tugging the leash again as gojo cat started to nudge his face against the carrier. “he’s just... enthusiastic. about life. and apparently, love.”

“mr. pickles looks like she’s about to murder him.”

mr. pickles, indeed, was having none of it. when gojo cat got too close, she raised a paw and batted at the mesh with a low growl, making geto jump. “okay, timeout,” geto said, scooping gojo cat up with one arm while holding the leash in the other. gojo cat squirmed, letting out a series of indignant chirps as if protesting his removal from the “love of his life.” “you’re really committed to this cat dad role, huh?” you teased, standing back up. “it’s not a role,” geto replied, attempting to adjust gojo cat in his arms as the feline twisted dramatically, his tail flicking with determination. “it’s a lifestyle.” you snorted, and geto decided right then and there that he would endure any amount of humiliation for the sound of your laughter.

meanwhile, gojo cat had decided he’d had enough of the timeout. with a sudden burst of energy, he wriggled free from geto’s grip and made a beeline back to mr. pickles’ carrier. he pawed at it again, letting out a chirp that sounded suspiciously like, notice me, senpai. “jesus christ, gojo,” geto muttered, scrambling to grab the leash. “can you give her some space for five seconds?”

“he’s determined,” you said, your lips twitching as you watched the scene unfold. “i’ll give him that.”

“determined to get us kicked out of the building, maybe,” geto grumbled, finally managing to wrangle gojo cat back.

mr. pickles, now thoroughly fed up, turned her back to the carrier door, her tail swishing in annoyance. she let out a loud, irritated meow, as if to say, enough of this nonsense. “looks like the queen has spoken,” you said, nodding toward mr. pickles. “yeah, well, tell that to this guy,” geto replied, holding gojo cat up like a misbehaving toddler. “i swear, he’s got no chill.”

“takes after his dad, huh?” you said with a sly grin.

geto froze, his cheeks heating up. “i—uh—he’s not my biological—uh…”

you laughed again, shaking your head.

“relax, geto. i’m just messing with you.” but before geto could recover and try to salvage what was left of his dignity, gojo cat let out another loud meow, squirming in his grip. “great,” geto muttered. “and now i’m the guy whose cat ruins his chance to make a good impression.”

“who said it was ruined?” you said casually, your gaze meeting his for a brief, heart-stopping moment. and just like that, geto decided that maybe—just maybe—gojo cat wasn’t the worst wingman in the world after all.

honestly, when you first saw geto on linkedin yesterday—highlighted internships, connections with every fancy-sounding legal firm, and posts that made him look like a diplomatic demigod—you thought, oh, great. another rich boy who probably orders his coffee by listing ten modifications and has never eaten instant noodles in his life. add gojo cat into the mix, and you were sure this guy was going to be the embodiment of an annoying private school kid, complete with a pet who demanded bottled water and artisanal treats. but this? this was unexpected. geto was, dare you say it, fun. the man actually cracked jokes, didn’t have that holier-than-thou attitude, and seemed genuinely nice. how was he even an international law major? weren’t they supposed to be the glorified MUN kids of society?

“so, what do you think of him?” geto asked, glancing down at gojo cat, who was currently doing his best impression of an olympic sprinter, chasing a rogue leaf across the path. “him?” you asked, smirking. “i think he’s a menace to society.”

“hey, that’s my son you’re talking about,” geto said, mock-offended. “like father, like son,” you shot back, and you caught the faintest twitch of his lips. “you wound me,” geto replied dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d just dealt a fatal blow. you laughed despite yourself. “i mean, am i wrong? you’re kind of a menace too, you know. showing up with that “like father, like son” line earlier.”

“that line was gold, okay?” he said, defensive but clearly holding back a grin. “besides, it worked. you’re still here, aren’t you?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “you got lucky. i needed some fresh air.”

“ah, so i’m just a side quest for your morning routine. noted,” he said, looking mock-wounded again. “don’t make me regret this,” you said, though your tone was light. but then, of course, you had to spiral. because what kind of person just casually smells like bamboo? why were you even thinking about how he smelled in the first place? no, focus. you were not about to develop a crush on mr. linkedin extraordinaire.

“so, um,” geto started, scratching the back of his neck. you noticed he did that a lot when he was unsure of himself, which was oddly endearing. “did you, uh, happen to notice we go to the same university?”

“oh, i noticed,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “what i didn’t notice was how i never saw you around campus before.”

“i keep a low profile,” he said quickly, a little too quickly.

“low profile? you? with your fifteen linkedin posts about networking events and charity galas?” you teased. he flushed, and you bit back a laugh at the sight of the ever-composed suguru geto getting flustered. “that’s professional stuff,” he said, looking anywhere but at you. “different vibe.”

“sure, mr. diplomat,” you said, grinning. “but seriously, why haven’t we crossed paths before?”

“well, you’re a year younger,” he mumbled, “and in a different department. plus… i might’ve…”

“might’ve what?” you pressed, leaning in just slightly.

“might’ve avoided you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “avoided me?” you repeated, blinking. “why?”

his face turned a shade darker. “because i didn’t know how to talk to you, okay?” you stared at him, caught off guard by his sudden honesty. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of gojo cat rustling through the bushes filling the silence. “well,” you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smile, “you’re doing fine now.” he looked at you, his expression softening. “yeah, maybe.”

and just like that, the flustered energy transferred to you, because how was this guy suddenly so disarming? you quickly turned your attention to gojo cat, who had now returned, proudly carrying a twig in his mouth like it was some grand prize. “your cat’s weird,” you said, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious. “takes after his owner,” geto quipped, a little more confidently this time. you snorted, shaking your head. “yeah, well, you’re lucky i don’t scare easy.”

“lucky, huh?” he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile.

you groaned inwardly. maybe you were spiraling. if mr. pickles could talk, you’d be subjected to a very long, exasperated lecture right now. and honestly? she’d have a point. because here you were, fumbling in front of what could only be described as a god-sent man—minus his questionable taste in cheesy pickup lines and feline companions. and judging by the way she was scratching insistently against the carrier’s mesh, mr. pickles had had enough. “alright, alright,” you muttered, unzipping the carrier. “but behave, okay? no swatting.”

the minute she stepped out, in all her pregnant, regal glory, gojo cat lost his mind. if there were an olympic event for wooing, he’d be taking home gold, no contest. he was meowing nonstop, his tail flicking like crazy, hopping in excited circles around mr. pickles. “good god,” geto muttered beside you, watching his cat’s antics with a mixture of horror and amusement. “he’s… persistent, isn’t he?”

“persistent? your cat’s acting like he just won the lottery,” you said, watching gojo cat crouch low and wiggle his butt like he was about to pounce. “mr. pickles deserves the best,” geto said with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. “she deserves peace and quiet,” you shot back, laughing as mr. pickles calmly let gojo cat have his little moment of excitement before promptly swatting him on the nose.

gojo cat froze, blinking in shock. then, as if nothing happened, he tried again. another swat.

“he doesn’t give up, does he?” you said, shaking your head. “like father, like son,” geto said with a shrug, and you snorted.

“oh, so you’re like that too, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. he froze for a second, his brain clearly buffering. then he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “i like to think i have a bit more self-control.”

“hmm,” you said, pretending to consider. “debatable.”

“harsh,” geto said, placing a hand over his heart like he’d been wounded. things weren’t any better for geto. watching you laugh at his lame attempts at humor was doing something dangerous to his brain. you were so close, and the way your eyes lit up when you laughed…

he couldn’t help it. he felt the same urge gojo cat must’ve felt—like physically shaking, meowing, jumping, doing whatever it took to make sure you were looking at him. but he was a man with poise (he reminded himself), so instead of resorting to anything outrageous, he blushed furiously, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “you okay there?” you asked, noticing his face had turned an alarming shade of red. “yeah, yeah,” he said quickly, waving you off. “it’s, uh… warm out here.” you glanced up at the sky. it was barely sunny with a light breeze. “sure,” you said, smirking. “totally the weather.”

“don’t call me out like that,” he mumbled, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck again. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” you said before you could stop yourself, and the words hung in the air for a second too long. his head snapped toward you, eyes wide. “what?”

“i — nothing ,” you said quickly, suddenly very interested in the stray thread on your sweater. “no, no, go on,” geto said, leaning in slightly, his voice teasing now. “what were you saying?”

“i said nothing,” you insisted, but your face was practically on fire. he grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. “mm-hmm. sure.”

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “mr. pickles, save me,” you muttered, but she was too busy fending off gojo cat’s latest round of attention to care. and next to you, geto was grinning like an idiot, his blush finally starting to fade as he realized he might not be the only one spiraling.

amidst the awkward giggles and blushes, your stomach decided it had enough of the coy flirting and declared war. a low, awkward rumble escaped, loud enough for both you and geto to freeze. “was that…?” geto began, his lips twitching.

“no,” you lied immediately, your face heating up. “that was probably…gojo.” as if on cue, gojo cat meowed loudly, almost like he was backing you up. but mr. pickles wasn’t having it, her head snapping toward you with a “you’re kidding, right?” look. geto, bless his golden heart, didn’t press further. instead, he scooped up a very indignant gojo, who was in the middle of another extravagant attempt to woo mr. pickles.

“sounds like breakfast is overdue,” he said, grinning. “my treat, as promised.” you hesitated, watching as mr. pickles, the opportunist she was, pranced toward her carrier with the regal air of a queen boarding her royal carriage. she gave you a look that screamed, what are you waiting for? let’s go, servant.

“uh,” you started, scratching the back of your neck. “so, funny story — i didn’t bring my wallet, and even if i did…” you trailed off, remembering the bleak state of your cashapp. $27.53 stared back at you the last time you checked. it was a miracle you even had that much. “...i wouldn’t be able to afford it.” geto blinked at you, as if you’d grown a second head. “what?”

“yeah,” you said, already feeling the mortifying urge to dig a hole and crawl into it. “i’m, uh, broke. like, hilariously broke. economy, y’know?” you added with a weak laugh. “you think i’m letting you pay?” geto said, looking genuinely offended. “what kind of guy do you think i am?”

“a nice guy?” you offered, unsure where this was going. “no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “a gentleman.”

oh god, the drama. you stifled a laugh. “well, excuse me, mister gentleman. i just didn’t want to assume you’d pay.”

“assume away,” he said, already heading toward the nearest fancy breakfast café like he hadn’t just kidnapped you and the cats. “i’ve got you covered.” you glanced down at mr. pickles, who gave you a look that screamed, hurry up, i want my eggs.

the café, of course, was fancy. fancier than anywhere you’d normally set foot in. as you walked in, clutching mr. pickles’ carrier like a lifeline, you whispered to geto, “you couldn’t pick a normal place?”

“normal?” he asked, arching a brow. “what, like mcdonald’s?”

“that would’ve been perfect, ” you muttered. he just chuckled. “relax. it’s on me. besides…” he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “i have a reputation to uphold. international law guys don’t slum it, you know?” you snorted. “you’re so full of it.”

“maybe,” he admitted, grinning. “but you’re here, aren’t you?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you followed him to a table, where gojo cat immediately tried to climb onto the nearest chair, only for geto to gently push him back down. “don’t even think about it,” he told the cat, who meowed indignantly. mr. pickles, meanwhile, sat primly in her carrier, surveying the café with a look of mild disdain. she was probably judging the lack of gold-plated bowls. “so,” geto said once you were seated, his tone casual but his eyes warm. “what are you having? and don’t say something cheap to be polite.”

“how’d you know i was going to say that?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. he shrugged. “just a hunch. order whatever you want.”

you hesitated, glancing at the menu. everything was overpriced, and you were 80% sure a single pancake here cost more than your rent. “fine,” you said finally. “but if i order the most expensive thing on the menu, i don’t want to hear you complain.”

“deal,” he said, smiling like you’d just agreed to marry him. god, he really was trying to woo you. and judging by the way your heart was doing somersaults, it might’ve been working.

the cafe was everything you imagined a “fancy breakfast spot” would be—muted beige tones, big windows letting in soft sunlight, overpriced art hanging on the walls, and tables filled with people who somehow looked like they owned hedge funds. there were plants too, the kind that didn’t seem real, and a faint jazz tune played in the background. if geto was trying to impress you, he was definitely succeeding, albeit unintentionally making you feel a little out of place. but all of that took a backseat the moment you heard that voice.

“you’re joking,” you muttered under your breath as you caught sight of none other than ryomen sukuna, towering like a goddamn villain straight out of a noir film. the cigarette smell hit first, faint but unmistakable, lingering on his dark uniform. his face twisted into a scowl the second he spotted your table. “ugh, pets,” he grumbled, eyeing the carrier with disdain. “this is why this place is going downhill. who even lets cats in here?”

“good morning to you too, sukuna,” geto said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with a calmness that only pissed sukuna off further. you, on the other hand, were seconds away from panic. this is choso’s brother? you’d seen him before, sure—usually smoking in the hallway and glaring like everyone had personally wronged him. but now? here? as your server? gojo cat immediately picked up on your distress—or maybe he just didn’t like sukuna’s face—because he started growling in geto’s lap. it was the tiniest, most pitiful growl, but sukuna’s eyes snapped to him, narrowing in challenge. “what’s that thing’s problem?” he asked, jerking a thumb at gojo cat. “his problem is you , ” geto said, smiling. “can’t say i blame him.” sukuna shot geto a flat look before turning his attention back to you. “what are you having?” he asked, his tone sharp enough to cut steel.

you panicked, your eyes darting to the menu. “uh… ummm …i’ll have the, uh…” you started, struggling to pronounce the ridiculous name of the dish. “the croissant…something?”

“you mean the croissant aux truffes?” sukuna interrupted, rolling his eyes. “yeah, got it. anything else?” you shook your head furiously, feeling your face heat up. “and you?” sukuna turned to geto, clearly already over this interaction. “my usual,” geto said casually, resting his chin on his hand. sukuna raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a mean smirk. “your usual , huh? what’s that again?”

geto froze for half a second, his cool demeanor slipping ever so slightly. “you know what my usual is,” he said, his voice a little sharper. “do i?” sukuna asked, feigning innocence. “must’ve slipped my mind.”

“it’s soba,” geto hissed, his calmness now completely abandoned.

“oh, soba,” sukuna said, nodding slowly like he’d just solved the mystery of the century. “got it. soba. anything else, your highness?” geto glared at him but didn’t say anything, and sukuna walked off, muttering something under his breath about “stupid regulars.” the moment he was out of earshot, geto leaned back in his chair and let out a dramatic sigh. “i’m never coming back here.”

“really?” you asked, raising a brow. “because it sounded like you practically live here.”

“not after this humiliation,” he said, though the way his lips twitched betrayed the fact that he wasn’t as annoyed as he pretended to be. you couldn’t help but laugh, the earlier tension melting away. “for what it’s worth,” you said, “your ‘usual’ sounds pretty fancy too.”

“don’t,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “i’ll never live this down.”

from the corner of your eye, you saw gojo cat attempting to claw his way out of geto's lap, probably planning to finish what he started with sukuna. mr. pickles, ever the drama queen, merely yawned, completely unfazed by the chaos. it was going to be a long morning.

sukuna’s approach to serving was efficient, sure, but it was laced with the kind of attitude that made you question why this place hired him in the first place. he practically slammed geto’s soba on the table with a smile so forced it could rival a ventriloquist dummy, and your croissant—although perfect—arrived with a snide comment about “petting zoos” under his breath. you gave him a tight-lipped smile, muttering a quick “thank you,” while geto tried to hide his snicker behind his hand. sukuna walked off, grumbling something about “pretentious cat dads.”

“don’t mind him,” geto said, breaking his chopsticks with practiced ease. “he’s just like that with everyone. well, maybe worse with me.”

“so you’re special, then?” you teased, tearing off a piece of your croissant. “you could say that,” geto replied with a grin, feeding gojo cat a tiny bit of soba under the table. gojo, the shameless flirt, lapped it up happily, ignoring mr. pickles’ death glare from her carrier. things were calm, peaceful even—until the gaggle of women arrived.

they were the type you’d expect to see in glossy magazines: perfectly coiffed hair, subtle but expensive-looking makeup, and outfits that screamed “we brunch in designer clothes.” they made a beeline for gojo cat, cooing and fawning like he was some sort of feline casanova. and, like the attention-seeking traitor he was, gojo lapped it all up, practically preening under their praise. “oh my god, look at him!” one of them squealed, petting gojo as he leaned into her touch. “he’s so cute!”

“what’s his name?” another asked, giving geto a smile that could only be described as predatory. “gojo,” geto said, chuckling awkwardly. “you named him after yourself?” one of the women teased, clearly mistaking him for the egomaniac in question.

“uh, no, actually—”

“oh, sugurruuu!” another one interrupted, clearly recognizing him. “it’s been ages! how have you been?” you raised an eyebrow as the women began circling him like sharks. apparently, they were his seniors from a past internship, which made sense because they had that polished, professional air about them. “we missed you at the office!” one of them gushed. “you were so good at handling those client presentations,” another added, her tone a little too sweet for your liking.

you took a bite of your croissant, trying to ignore the sudden twist in your stomach. it wasn’t like you had any claim over geto, right? and yet, seeing him chuckle nervously and entertain them, even though it was clear he was uncomfortable, made you bristle. beside you, mr. pickles was practically vibrating with irritation, her tail flicking furiously as she watched gojo soak up the attention. she let out a low, guttural growl that you could’ve sworn mirrored your exact mood. “he’s such a ladies’ man,” one of the women purred, gesturing to gojo. “just like his owner, huh?”

“actually,” geto said, his voice cutting through the chatter. he looked at you, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. “this is my partner.”

wait, what?

the table went silent for a moment as all eyes turned to you. the women’s faces fell ever so slightly, their previously cheery expressions dimming as they processed the information. “partner?” one of them repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. “yep,” geto said, leaning back in his chair with a small, satisfied smile. “we’re co-parenting these two,” he added, gesturing to the cats. you blinked, your mind racing. co-parenting? he wasn’t wrong, technically speaking, but the way he said it made it sound...a lot more serious than it actually was. the women muttered half-hearted congratulations before awkwardly excusing themselves, their heels clicking against the tiled floor as they walked away. once they were out of earshot, you turned to geto, your cheeks burning. “partner, huh?”

“what? it’s true,” he said, a hint of smugness in his tone. “we’re co-parenting.”

“you do know how that sounded, right?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.“sounded perfect to me,” he said, giving you a lopsided grin. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. maybe, just maybe, you liked geto a little more than you thought. meanwhile, gojo cat continued basking in his stolen glory, and mr. pickles finally settled down in her carrier, clearly satisfied with how the situation had turned out.

chapter 4: he brought kibble, you brought your heart

the days following your chaotic breakfast outing became a mix of heartwarming absurdity and mild chaos, all thanks to geto and his ever-determined cat.

it started with the pet supplies. one offhand comment about needing more for mr. pickles, and suddenly geto was at your door with an entire armful of toys, treats, and nesting materials. “you said you needed stuff,” he shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he handed you a bag that looked heavy enough to contain bricks. “this is…a lot,” you said, peering inside. “did you buy out the entire pet store?”

“nah, just the essentials,” he replied, brushing off your comment. “besides, i had to get stuff for gojo anyway.”

the “stuff for gojo” turned out to be a single can of tuna.

then came the vet visits. geto had decided, entirely unprompted, that your vet appointments were now his responsibility. he would show up unannounced, a coffee in hand for you and a carrier for gojo in the other. “i don’t think the vet needs to see gojo,” you’d said the first time he came along. “you never know,” he’d replied, entirely serious. “what if he has sympathy symptoms for mr. pickles? he’s been sneezing a lot lately.”

“that’s because he shoved his face into a pile of dust bunnies,” you deadpanned. still, you couldn’t deny how much easier it was having him around, even if it meant enduring his occasional attempts to one-up the vet with random facts he’d googled beforehand. “you know, some studies say cats feel pain differently during pregnancy,” geto commented as the vet checked mr. pickles over. the vet gave him a flat look. “that’s…not entirely accurate.”

“huh, weird,” geto said, leaning back with an entirely too smug grin. “i’ll look into it more. it’s good to stay informed, right?”

meanwhile, gojo cat’s relentless courtship of mr. pickles had reached new, unhinged heights. every day brought a new “gift” for her nesting area, ranging from sweet (a soft sock) to outright concerning (a half-dead lizard that had you shrieking and yuuji wielding a plastic lightsaber like some kind of jedi exterminator). “gojo, no!” you’d yelled, trying to wrestle the lizard out of his mouth. “don’t hurt him!” geto shouted, entirely missing the point as he held gojo back. “don’t hurt him?!” yuuji echoed, brandishing the lightsaber dramatically. “what about me? what if it jumps at me?!”

amidst the chaos, mr. pickles remained the picture of serenity, carefully arranging each of gojo’s offerings in her nesting area like some kind of bizarre art installation. she even started tolerating his presence, which was a minor miracle in itself. “look at them,” geto said one day, gesturing to the two cats as they napped side by side. “they’re like us.” you raised an eyebrow. “one of them brings in literal trash and the other barely tolerates them. which one’s supposed to be me?”

“well, obviously, you’re mr. pickles,” he said with a grin.

“and you’re gojo?”

“exactly.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “geto, you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly.

despite the chaos, you couldn’t deny that your little makeshift family—complete with a sock-stealing, lizard-catching cat and his annoyingly thoughtful owner—had started to grow on you. mr. pickles seemed calmer, you felt more relaxed, and even geto’s awkward attempts at affection were kind of endearing. maybe, just maybe, these two weren’t so bad after all.

but honestly, you should’ve known geto would take a casual dinner and make it look like an event. the moment you opened the door and saw him standing there, you realized just how badly you underestimated the man’s ability to weaponize his looks. he’d ditched the usual button-ups for a fitted black turtleneck that clung to him like a second skin, paired with tailored gray slacks that looked more expensive than your monthly rent. his hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, but a few stray strands framed his face just enough to be annoyingly perfect. and then there was the smell—some cologne that was equal parts warm and spicy, making your knees wobble like a newborn deer.

“you…uh, look nice,” you managed to stutter, awkwardly gesturing him in. he chuckled, stepping inside. “thanks. figured i should dress up a little since you’re going all out with dinner.” oh, so now it’s your fault for making dinner sound like a five-star experience when it was really just some pasta and garlic bread. meanwhile, your own reflection in the hallway mirror mocked you mercilessly. you were still in your semi-formal college attire: a blazer that was slightly too big, a wrinkled blouse, and pants that had seen better days. you could have changed, but no, you thought you’d save time and effort. bad call.

dinner itself went surprisingly smoothly. mr. pickles and gojo cat managed to coexist at the food station, which was nothing short of miraculous. out of the corner of your eye, you saw gojo nudging a small portion of his food toward mr. pickles, who sniffed it delicately before accepting. “look at them,” geto said with a soft smile, catching your gaze. “sharing like that. think it’s love?” you scoffed, trying to ignore how his smile made your heart race. “or maybe gojo’s just trying to butter her up so she doesn’t swat him later.”

“harsh,” geto replied, leaning back in his chair. “you’re cynical. i like it.”

after dinner, you were about to tackle the dishes when geto, ever the overachieving law student, pulled out his macbook. the glow of the screen illuminated his face as he typed furiously, answering emails and looking like the poster boy for "i have my life together."

“work?” you asked, carrying a stack of plates to the sink. “just a few emails,” he said, not looking up. “one of the partners at my internship sent over some last-minute questions.” you blinked, watching him with mild disbelief. “it’s a friday night.”

“welcome to international law,” he said dryly, fingers flying across the keyboard. against your better judgment, you found yourself… impressed? his focus, his confidence, the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show off his forearms—it was annoyingly attractive. “ugh, law students,” you muttered under your breath, scrubbing at a plate. “what was that?” suguru asked, looking up with a smirk. “nothing,” you said quickly, turning back to the sink. “just saying how dedicated you are.” he laughed, the sound low and warm. “you’re bad at lying, you know.”

“and you’re bad at taking a break,” you shot back, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

after a few more minutes of typing, geto finally closed his laptop and joined you in the kitchen. “here, let me help,” he offered, rolling up his sleeves further. “you cooked,” he said, taking a plate from your hands. “least i can do is clean up.” you wanted to argue, but the sight of geto, sleeves rolled up, standing beside you at the sink, made your brain short-circuit. “fine,” you mumbled, handing him a dish. “but if you drop one, i’m not forgiving you.”

“noted,” he said with a grin, elbow brushing yours as he worked. as you both washed dishes in companionable silence, you couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, heart doing a stupid little flutter each time he caught you looking. maybe this dinner wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

geto had never been one to overthink simple things. he prided himself on his ability to stay cool and collected, whether it was during an exam, an internship interview, or wrangling gojo cat after he’d somehow escaped onto a neighbor’s balcony. but here, standing next to you, washing dishes, his heart was doing its best impression of a jazz drummer—completely out of rhythm and far too loud. he tried to focus on the task at hand, scrubbing a plate with the precision of a surgeon, but his brain was too busy short-circuiting over the sheer domesticity of the moment. you, standing next to him, a faint smile on your lips as you passed him a dish. mr. pickles and gojo cat sitting like a mismatched elderly couple in the corner, their rivalry seemingly paused for the evening. this was too much. domesticity was his weakness, and you were unknowingly his kryptonite.

"you know," he started, trying to sound casual, "i’ve been working on my forearms lately. gotta make sure gojo has a sturdy perch when i carry him." your laugh was soft but genuine, and it hit him right in the chest. "oh yeah? is that why you’ve been flexing every chance you get? because i was starting to think you were just trying to flirt." he froze, plate in hand, before turning to look at you with a mock-offended expression. "flirt? me? that’s slander. i’m just a humble man with well-defined forearms doing his civic duty.”

"right," you drawled, rolling your eyes as you handed him another dish. okay, suguru, he thought. focus. this is the perfect moment. ask the question. it’s not that big of a deal. except it was a big deal. because it wasn’t just about asking if you’d like to carpool to college every day. it was about getting more time with you, sharing little moments like this. he cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "hey, uh…you know how i drive to college every day?" you glanced at him, a little confused. "yeah?"

"and you, uh, also go to college every day?"

"correct," you said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

he could feel his palms starting to sweat despite the soapy water. this was ridiculous. why was he nervous? it was just a question! but somehow, the thought of you saying no made his stomach twist. "so," he continued, trying to keep his tone light, "i was thinking…maybe we could drive together? you know, save on gas, reduce our carbon footprint, that kind of thing." you blinked at him, clearly caught off guard. "you want to carpool with me?"

"yeah," he said quickly, nodding. "i mean, it makes sense, right? we’re both going the same way, and i wouldn’t mind the company. plus, i’ve got this playlist i’ve been dying to share." that wasn’t entirely true. his playlist was a chaotic mix of instrumental lo-fi, 90’s rock and songs gojo cat seemed to enjoy, but he’d happily curate something just for you if it meant hearing you laugh and sing along.

"you’re serious?" you asked, and he swore he could see a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "dead serious," he said, putting on his best poker face. "it’s a purely logistical decision, of course. nothing to do with the fact that i think you’re great company or anything." you stared at him for a moment before breaking into a laugh, and he felt his shoulders relax just a little. "okay," you said finally. "sure, let’s carpool." he grinned, feeling an almost embarrassing amount of relief. "awesome. you won’t regret it, i promise." as you turned back to the sink, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at you, his heart still doing its offbeat jazz solo. yeah, this was going to be good. better than good, even.

the last dish was set on the drying rack, and with it came the awkward silence that always followed. you and geto exchanged a glance, both of you clearly trying to decide what came next. do you send him off with a polite "thanks for the help," or do you suggest something casual? ugh, why was this so hard?

"soooo," you started, awkwardly fidgeting with a dishtowel. "uh, do you…want ice cream?" geto blinked at you, his expression pleasantly surprised. "ice cream?"

"yeah, you know, frozen dairy, sugar, flavors," you said, waving your hands vaguely like you were describing some rare delicacy. "do international law students even like convenience store ice cream? or are you more into, like, artisanal stuff churned by monks in the alps?" his laugh was low and warm, the kind of laugh that made you feel like you’d just won something. "as tempting as alps-monks-churned ice cream sounds, i’m fine with rocky road if you’ve got it."

rocky road. he’s perfect, you thought as you rummaged in the freezer, pulling out a pint. mr. pickles, ever the queen, trotted over and sat primly by your feet, tail twitching as if she expected you to serve her a scoop. gojo cat, on the other hand, had found a stray spoon to bat around the kitchen floor like it was his life’s mission. you handed geto a bowl, and he graciously accepted before pulling out his macbook and setting it on the table. "mind if i put something on?"

"as long as it’s not UN debates or a soba recipe tutorial," you teased, leaning over to peer at his screen. to your credit, you weren’t snooping—you were just curious about what kind of stuff an international law student kept on their homepage. but the minute you saw it, you froze. nestled among his neatly arranged bookmarks for email, law journals, and a soba takeout joint, was your spotify profile. your brain went into immediate overdrive. oh dear god. oh no. oh yes. wait, what?

you fought the urge to gasp, to point, to scream into the void. instead, you settled for the most nonchalant reaction you could muster. "huh. your bookmarks are so…organized." but your awkward tone gave you away, and geto, sharp as ever, followed your gaze. when his eyes landed on the offending bookmark, he paused mid-scoop, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "oh," he said, clearly trying to play it cool. "uh, yeah. that’s—uh, for convenience. you know, for when you share playlists and stuff."

"totally," you replied, nodding far too enthusiastically. "makes sense. who doesn’t bookmark their friends’ spotify profiles?" you were lying through your teeth, and you both knew it. but instead of feeling weirded out, your heart felt like it might actually burst. he bookmarked your spotify. this ridiculously attractive, smart, and funny guy has done something so nerdy and cute, and you think you might die. the silence stretched awkwardly until you couldn’t take it anymore. "so…what’s your favorite playlist of mine?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual but failing miserably.

geto, to his credit, recovered quickly. "probably the one you called ‘in the clerb, we all cryin’.’ it’s got a lot of questionable choices."

"questionable choices?" you gasped, feigning offense. "excuse me, those are carefully curated emotional masterpieces!"

"right, right," he said, nodding solemnly but with a teasing glint in his eyes. "masterpieces like, what was it? ‘torn’ by natalie imbruglia followed by party rock anthem?"

"that’s called range, geto."

he laughed again, and you swore it was the best sound you’d ever heard. meanwhile, gojo cat had successfully cornered the spoon under the fridge, and mr. pickles let out an indignant meow, clearly unimpressed by the lack of attention directed her way. "anyways," you said, clearing your throat and desperately trying to steer the conversation away from how much your soul had ascended, "what are we watching?" he smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "how about a soba recipe tutorial? you know, for research purposes."

"get out of my house," you deadpanned, throwing a napkin at him. but deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling. maybe you did like geto. just a little. or a lot. who’s counting?

the youtube video played on, gordon ramsey passionately dissecting the finer points of why "tiramisu supremacy" should be the law of the land, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. instead, you were hyper-aware of the ridiculously attractive man next to you, lounging on your bed, casually eating rocky road like he wasn’t a complete menace to your sanity. gojo cat had stationed himself at your feet, swiping lazily at a loose thread on your blanket. mr. pickles, in a rare display of domestic harmony, perched regally on a pillow next to geto like she was claiming him as her territory. you could almost hear her smug little cat thoughts: this one? yes, acceptable.

meanwhile, you? you were losing it. somehow—through some strange twist of fate or cosmic joke—your head had ended up resting on geto’s chest. his chest. his sculpted, unfairly perfect chest. you told yourself it was for comfort, or convenience, or whatever excuse your brain could scramble together. oh god, is this okay? what if he thinks i’m weird? or worse, what if he doesn’t care at all?

his arm was just kind of… hovering there, like it didn’t know what to do. his bicep flexed every time he adjusted, and you swore it was on purpose. it’s not on purpose, idiot. calm down. "you good there?" his voice cut through your internal spiral, warm and teasing. you cleared your throat, suddenly self-conscious. "uh, yeah. totally fine. just... comfortable, i guess."

"comfortable, huh?" he echoed, his tone light but his heart doing cartwheels. she’s comfortable. okay. don’t freak out. play it cool. meanwhile, geto was absolutely not playing it cool. this is fine. this is normal. people hang out like this all the time. friends. buddies. totally platonic. on a bed. watching gordon ramsey. with her head on my chest. oh god, i’m dying. his arm was still hovering awkwardly, and it was starting to cramp. should he just—? no. too much. but maybe? before he could overthink it further, you shifted slightly, glancing up at him.

"you can, you know," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. he blinked down at you, dumbfounded. "can what?"

"put your arm around me," you mumbled, cheeks heating up like a furnace. geto’s brain short-circuited. oh god, she said i can. she actually said i can. is this real? am i dreaming? where’s gojo? he needs to see this. wait, no, absolutely not. this is private. oh god, my arm.

"uh, yeah. sure," he finally said, his voice cracking just a little as he tried to sound casual. his arm settled around your shoulders, warm and solid, and you let out a content sigh. meanwhile, internally, he was screaming. this is the best day of his life.

"you’re stiff as hell," you teased, glancing up at him. "sorry, it’s just—i’m not used to—" he fumbled, trailing off. "chill out," you said with a soft laugh, your hand lightly resting on his chest. "it’s just me."

just you. the girl he’d been pining after for weeks. the girl whose spotify profile he’d bookmarked. the girl whose cats he’d willingly co-parented like an idiot in love. he wasn’t even sure how he was still breathing. "yeah," he said softly, his lips quirking into a small smile. "just you."

"hey, are you even watching?" you asked, gesturing at the screen where ramsey was now passionately defending the honor of cannoli. "uh, yeah. totally," he lied, having absolutely no idea what was happening in the video. "oh yeah? then what’s his stance on panna cotta?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. geto paused for a second, then grinned sheepishly. "panna whatta?" you groaned, laughing despite yourself. "you’re hopeless."

"hopelessly charmed," he muttered under his breath, but thankfully, the loud volume drowned it out. gojo cat let out an exaggerated yawn, curling up at the foot of the bed, while mr. pickles blinked at both of you with what could only be described as approval. and for a brief moment, with you curled up against him, geto thought that maybe, just maybe, domesticity wasn’t so bad after all.

the clock on your bedside table glowed 9:30 pm, the red numbers a cruel reminder that sunday was slipping away. geto shifted slightly, the arm around your shoulders reluctantly moving as if to signal his departure. right. college tomorrow. responsibilities. but neither of you moved. instead, his attempt to lift his arm ended in a poorly executed maneuver that pulled you closer—much closer. suddenly, your face was inches from his, and you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. his breath hitched. oh god. oh no. oh yes. what if he does something stupid? like kiss you? no, bad idea. abort. retreat. pull away. you’ll think he’s weird—

you kissed him first. his brain went blank.

your lips pressed softly against his, a tentative, curious movement that sent every coherent thought in his mind scattering like autumn leaves in the wind. your lip balm—something fruity, maybe peach?—lingered on his lips, blending with the faint taste of rocky road ice cream. his heart stopped, then kickstarted with a force that left him lightheaded. "oh," he murmured against your lips, his voice barely audible. "oh?" you pulled back slightly, a teasing smile quirking your lips. "i — i mean —" he stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. "uh, wow."

"wow?" you laughed softly, your hands sliding up his chest, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt. "shut up," he groaned, but his grin betrayed him as his hands instinctively found your waist, steadying you as you moved to straddle his lap. oh god. oh god. she’s on my lap. this is not a drill. repeat, this is not a drill. "you’re awfully red, suguru," you teased, your tone light, but the way your fingers brushed against his jaw made his pulse race. "yeah, well, you’re—" he cut himself off, his eyes flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze. "you’re unfairly pretty, okay? and i’m trying not to pass out here."

"pretty?" you echoed, feigning innocence as you leaned in closer, your noses brushing. "is that all?" he chuckled, low and breathy. "pretty, gorgeous, unfairly cute. take your pick." before he could spiral into another wave of self-doubt, you kissed him again, and this time, he responded in full. his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second. his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his fingers flexing like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. in the background, gordon ramsey’s voice bellowed something about undercooked risotto, but neither of you noticed. this is what dreams are made of, right? he thought. her lips, her taste, the way she’s holding onto me like i’m her favorite person in the world. rocky road and lip balm and… gordon ramsey? okay, ignore that. focus. focus on her.

"you good there, suguru?" you murmured against his lips, your voice laced with amusement. "good?" he echoed, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. "i’m amazing. incredible. best night of my life, no contest."

"you’re such a dork," you laughed, your forehead resting against his. "yeah, well," he said, his smile softening as his thumb brushed along your cheek. "you like this dork."

"i do," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. his heart soared. he tightened his hold on you, his lips ghosting over yours once more as he whispered, "good. because i don’t think i’m letting you go anytime soon." the clock ticked on, but neither of you cared anymore. responsibilities could wait.

just as geto’s lips brushed against yours for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, a loud, synchronized cacophony of meows erupted from the corner of the bed. you both froze.

there sat gojo cat and mr. pickles, staring at the two of you with matching expressions of feline judgment. mr. pickles, her fur slightly puffed and her eyes narrowed, let out an indignant mrrrow that sounded suspiciously like "get a room." gojo cat, ever the instigator, joined in with an exaggerated meeeooowwww, his tail flicking dramatically as if to say, "seriously? right in front of us?"

“oh my god,” you mumbled, burying your face in geto’s neck as he chuckled, the sound rumbling against you. “i think we’ve offended the fur babies,” he said, clearly trying not to laugh too loudly as gojo cat began pacing in circles, yowling like a siren. “offended? they sound like they’re trying to declare war,” you muttered, pulling back reluctantly. “maybe they’re just jealous,” geto teased, his dark eyes twinkling as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “jealous of what?” you scoffed, glancing at the cats. mr. pickles was still bristling like a wronged queen, while gojo cat was now attempting to paw at the edge of the bed for dramatic emphasis.

“of this.” geto smirked, leaning in like he was about to steal another kiss, but mr. pickles let out a sharp hiss, cutting him off. “okay, okay, time out!” you said, waving your hands in surrender. with a sigh, geto released you, though his hand lingered on your waist for a moment longer. “guess that’s our cue.” you followed him to the door, the cats trailing behind like disapproving chaperones. gojo cat let out one last, drawn-out meow as if to say "good riddance," while mr. pickles sat primly by the door, glaring up at geto with all the disdain she could muster. “she’s really protective of you, huh?” geto said, slipping his shoes on. “always has been,” you replied, your hand resting on the doorknob. “probably doesn’t help that you keep bribing her with treats.”

“bribing?” he repeated, feigning offense. “that’s called building trust.”

“sure it is, mr. international law,” you teased, leaning against the doorframe.

he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “speaking of trust, uh… i’ll pick you up tomorrow? for class?” you raised an eyebrow, smirking. “trying to make this a habit now?”

“well,” he said, his cheeks pinking slightly, “i figured i’d bring you another one of those fancy croissants. and, you know, maybe see you smile first thing in the morning again.” your chest tightened at his words, warmth spreading through you. “smooth, geto.”

“is that a yes?” he asked, his voice softer now, his gaze locked on yours. “yeah,” you said, your lips curving into a smile. before he could step out, he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a quick but lingering kiss that made your heart race. when he pulled back, his smile was uncharacteristically shy.

“goodnight,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“goodnight,” you replied, watching as he walked away, his hands stuffed into his pockets but his stride noticeably lighter.

as you closed the door, you turned to find mr. pickles sitting side by side, staring up at you with unreadable expressions. “don’t look at me like that,” you said, pointing at her. “you’re the ones who ruined the moment.” mr. pickles let out a chirpy meep , as if to say "i’m just doing my job," before padding back to her nesting area with an air of smug satisfaction. you shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. whatever this thing with suguru was, you didn’t want it to end. not now, not ever.

chapter 5: justin bieber and other forms of groveling

you swung the door open, expecting to find a text from geto telling you to come downstairs like a normal person. instead, you were met with him. suguru geto, standing at your doorstep, looking like he’d just stepped out of a gq photoshoot. “morning!” he greeted cheerfully, his voice as smooth as his suit. yes, a suit. a dark, perfectly tailored one that hugged his broad shoulders and slim waist just right, paired with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top, exposing just a hint of his collarbone. the whole look was topped off with a skinny black tie and shiny leather oxfords that somehow made you question if you were even allowed to walk next to him. and don’t even get started on his hair—pulled back into a low bun, with a few loose strands framing his stupidly perfect face. “why—why are you here?” you stammered, gripping the doorframe for support because, honestly, this man might be a health hazard. “thought i’d save you the trip downstairs,” he said casually, though his lips curled into a smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing. “besides, i wanted to see you earlier.” great. now your heart was doing this weird fluttery thing, and you hated it. “you know you could’ve just texted me, right? like a normal person?”

“where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his voice tinged with amusement.

ugh.

the first thing that hit you when you slid into his car—a sleek black bmw z4 convertible with the top down—was the overwhelming scent of car cleaner mixed with him. “did you—did you just get this cleaned?” you asked, wrinkling your nose at the smell. “maybe,” he replied, a little too quickly. you glanced at the dashboard, which was spotless and gleaming. the leather seats looked freshly polished, and there wasn’t a single crumb or speck of dust in sight. well, except for the faint trace of orange fur on the passenger seat. “you missed a spot,” you teased, pointing at the fur. “gojo,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “aw, don’t be mad at him,” you said, grinning. “he’s just marking his territory.”

“yeah, well, he’s not paying for this car, is he?” suguru shot back, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. the car smelled like money, honestly. the leather had that rich, almost intimidating scent, and the steering wheel looked like it had been handcrafted by someone with a phd in luxury interiors. but somehow, there was this comforting undertone of suguru’s cologne—spicy, woodsy, and ridiculously distracting. you tried to act normal, like you weren’t suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were to him in this car that felt way too intimate for a ride to campus. “so, what’s the occasion?” you asked, nodding toward his suit as he pulled out onto the main road. “internship meeting after class,” he explained, keeping his eyes on the road. “wanted to make a good impression.”

“yeah, well, mission accomplished,” you mumbled, more to yourself than him, but he still heard. “what was that?” he asked, glancing at you with a playful smirk. “nothing,” you said quickly, your cheeks heating. as he drove, you found yourself sneaking glances at his hands on the wheel. his sleeves were rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, which looked unfairly muscular for a guy who claimed to “barely have time for the gym.” the veins running up his arms were just… there, taunting you.

“you’ve been working out, huh?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. he chuckled, a low, warm sound that made your stomach flip. “noticed, huh?”

“kind of hard not to when your biceps are trying to break out of that shirt,” you retorted, trying to sound nonchalant. “oh, this?” he said, flexing his forearm slightly as he adjusted the gearshift, clearly showing off. “ugh, stop,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “you’re so annoying.”

“and yet here you are,” he teased, shooting you a quick grin before turning his attention back to the road. as you sat there, half-annoyed and half-smitten, you couldn’t help but think that this man was going to be the death of you.

the two of you sat in the car outside your campus building for a moment longer than necessary. the engine was off, but the atmosphere buzzed with something heavy, something neither of you dared to name yet. geto had one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift, but you weren’t fooled. his jaw was tense, and his thumb tapped nervously against the leather, a small tell that you’d come to recognize. he didn’t want this ride to end. neither did you, if you were being honest. “so,” you started, your voice almost shy. “thanks for the ride.” he glanced over at you, his dark eyes soft but smoldering all at once. “yeah,” he said, his voice low, “anytime.” and just when you thought he’d let you leave, he moved.

his hand—large, warm, and calloused just enough to send a thrill through you—slipped behind your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent goosebumps racing down your arms. the touch was firm but gentle, commanding but tender.

“come here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t even have time to process before he pulled you in, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. this wasn’t just a goodbye kiss; no, this was something deeper, something that spoke of longing and frustration and a thousand unsaid things. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, like he didn’t care that the windows weren’t tinted enough for the scene unfolding inside. his tongue swept against your lower lip, asking, no, demanding entrance, and you couldn’t deny him. the taste of him—coffee from earlier, a hint of mint, and something uniquely suguru—was enough to make your head spin. your hand instinctively came up to his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself. but instead of pulling away, he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to get a better angle, and you thought you might actually lose all sense of reality.

when he finally pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt. no, he lingered, his lips brushing against yours one last time, as if reluctant to let go. his breathing was heavy, his cheeks slightly flushed, and when you looked up at him, you saw the faint sheen of your lip gloss smeared on his mouth. his lips—pink, swollen, and thoroughly kissed—were enough to make your brain short-circuit.

“you’ve got—” you gestured vaguely to his mouth, your voice shaky. he raised an eyebrow, smirking in that infuriatingly confident way. “lip gloss?” he guessed, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip like he was testing the feel of it. “yeah,” you mumbled, feeling your own cheeks heat up. “good,” he said simply, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i’ll keep it.” you wanted to scream, cry, and maybe kiss him again all at once. instead, you just sat there, dazed, as he leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“guess i should let you go now,” he said, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea. “yeah,” you managed to say, though your legs felt like jelly just thinking about walking into that building. as you stepped out of the car, the smell of car cleaner and his cologne still lingering around you, you could feel the weight of people’s stares. it wasn’t like fancy cars were a rare sight, but you stepping out of that car, looking thoroughly flustered and kissed? yeah, that was something. you glanced back at him one last time before closing the door. he gave you a small wave, the smirk still firmly in place. “i’ll pick you up later,” he called out, and you swore you heard the faintest hint of smugness in his voice. “yeah, okay,” you replied, trying to sound normal even though your entire body felt like it was on fire. as you walked toward the building, your mind raced with one singular thought: suguru geto was going to be the end of you. and honestly? you were okay with that.

as geto shifted gears and eased into a parking spot, he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. "oh, suguru, what a smooth operator you are," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his already-perfect hair. but as his fingers grazed his lips, he froze. oh no.

your lip gloss—that faint pink menace—was still there. he squinted into the rearview mirror, tilting his face left and right like he was analyzing evidence at a crime scene. yup, definitely there. and definitely noticeable.

“cool. love that for me,” he said under his breath, grabbing a tissue from the glove compartment. he dabbed at his lips gently, trying to erase the sheen. but no matter how much he rubbed, it refused to disappear completely. a faint tint lingered, stubborn and utterly humiliating. not that he minded, of course. secretly, he was fighting the urge to giggle like a high schooler who just got his crush’s number. she kissed me, he thought, his inner monologue doing cartwheels. and now her lip gloss is on me. does this count as shared property? do i need to buy her a ring now? he glanced at the building where you’d disappeared moments ago. a soft smile tugged at his lips, but then he caught his own reflection again, and the smile turned into a scowl.

“focus, suguru. you’re an international law student, not a lovesick teen,” he muttered, trying to psych himself up. but then, completely unbidden, the lyrics hit him: shawty’s like a melody in my head that i can’t keep out—

“oh my god, no,” he groaned, dropping his forehead against the steering wheel. “pull it together.” he sat up straight, fixing his tie like he was about to walk into court, not class. still, his thoughts wandered back to the kiss. he could still feel the warmth of your lips on his, the way you tasted faintly of coffee and lip gloss. “yeah, okay, maybe i’m a little lovesick,” he admitted to no one, sighing dramatically. a loud honk snapped him out of his reverie, and he jerked upright, eyes darting around. some guy in a beat-up sedan gave him a look as if to say, get moving, pretty boy.

“right, right, focus,” geto muttered, putting the car into park. but the distraction had already done its damage. in his daydream, he’d nearly considered driving through the building instead of parking near it. and not for the first time. last semester, there’d been that unfortunate incident where he’d been too engrossed in memorizing legal jargon to realize he was barreling toward the curb. it wasn’t his finest moment, but hey, everyone made mistakes. this time, though, it wasn’t legal jargon messing with his head. it was you.

after ensuring his car was perfectly parked (and double-checking for rogue curbs), he checked his reflection one last time. hair? immaculate. tie? sharp. lips? …still faintly pink. he sighed, leaning back in his seat. "well, if anyone asks, it’s my new look," he muttered, smirking to himself. but deep down, he wasn’t bothered. in fact, the idea of walking into his building, pink lip gloss and all, knowing it was from you? yeah, he could live with that.

you glance at your phone for what feels like the millionth time, the lock screen mocking you with its time: 6:45 p.m. every minute that ticks by feels like an eternity. where the hell was geto? the man who swore on rocky road ice cream and cats that he’d pick you up after class. “ugh, liar,” you grumble under your breath, clutching your phone tighter. you dial his number again, half-hoping, half-dreading, that he’d pick up. the line rings once, twice, and then straight to voicemail. “figures.”

the campus courtyard is thinning out now, with most students heading home or to their dorms. you, however, are still standing at the edge of the parking lot, looking like the poster child for loser-core chic. a group of girls you vaguely recognize from your department walk by, their giggles low and conspiratorial as they glance in your direction. one of them nudges her friend and whispers loudly, “see? i told you. you can’t trust law guys. they’re always playing games.” you stiffen, feeling your cheeks heat. okay, rude. but also…they might have a point?

“poor girl,” another one says, her voice dripping with pity. “she probably thought she was special.” your jaw tightens as you resist the urge to shout back, no, actually, he’s probably just late! maybe traffic, or… or… you groan inwardly. even you don’t buy your excuses anymore. just as you’re debating whether to crawl under a bush and live there forever, your deskmate, nanami kento, approaches. ever the epitome of politeness, he clears his throat softly before speaking. “hey,” he begins, adjusting the strap of his leather satchel. “are you, uh, waiting for someone?”

you force a smile, trying to appear less like a rejected rom-com protagonist. “yeah, uh… my ride’s just running a little late.” nanami’s brow furrows slightly, and he glances at his watch. “it’s been over thirty minutes.”

ouch. okay, way to rub salt in the wound, kento.

he sighs, looking almost…sympathetic? “i could drop you off if you’d like. it’s on my way.”

normally, any sane, self-respecting woman would jump at the chance to be chauffeured home by nanami kento—a man so punctual and reliable, he’s basically a walking swiss watch. but alas, you are neither self-respecting nor particularly sane at this moment. “thanks, nanami, but i’m good,” you say, waving him off with a grin that’s probably more pained than reassuring. he nods slowly, clearly unconvinced but too polite to argue. “alright. take care, then.” as he walks away, you let out a long sigh, your earlier bravado crumbling. “ugh, geto, you’re so dead,” you mutter under your breath, kicking a stray pebble across the pavement. by now, the campus is nearly deserted, and the idea of taking the bus home looms over you like a dark cloud. with a resigned sigh, you check the bus schedule on your phone. the next one isn’t due for another 15 minutes. just perfect.

the bus ride home is as glamorous as you’d expect—fluorescent lights that make everyone look vaguely ill, the faint smell of stale chips and rubber, and the occasional bump that sends you jerking forward. you plop into an empty seat, your bag clutched tightly on your lap. a group of teenagers in the back snicker about something, and the guy across from you is humming off-key to whatever’s blasting through his headphones. yeah, this is way better than being driven home in a bmw z4, you think bitterly, rolling your eyes.

the faint scent of orange fur clings to your bag, and you wonder if it’s from gojo cat sneaking into geto’s car this morning. the thought makes you irrationally mad all over again. i bet the car is fine. he probably just forgot or something stupid like that. you lean your head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. the rhythmic hum of the bus is oddly calming, but your thoughts are anything but. what if he’s hurt? a small, worried voice pipes up in the back of your mind. but you squash it quickly. no, he’s just being an idiot.

geto is convinced this is how he dies—not by some massive legal scandal or a tragic car accident, but by sheer embarrassment. the moment the clock hit 6:00 p.m., he knew he was doomed. when the hands of time ticked past 6:45, panic set in. it’s fine, he had told himself, gripping his steering wheel with white-knuckled determination. she probably hasn’t even noticed yet. but she had noticed. oh god, had she noticed. every missed call and unread text was like a dagger to his heart. he could practically feel your disappointment vibrating through his phone. the sheer audacity of his internship, requiring him to sit through endless discussions about treaties and bylaws while you were out there—waiting for him like some rom-com protagonist.

and what does he find when he finally arrives at campus? absolutely nothing. a deserted lot, the soft hum of crickets, and not a single trace of you. he rubs a hand over his face, groaning as he slams his car door shut. great, suguru. really great. not only do you make law students look unreliable, but you’ve also officially cemented yourself as a clown in front of the only person who matters.

so, he does the only thing a desperate man can do: breaks every traffic law ever invented, zipping through yellow lights and cutting corners like it’s his goddamn personal mission to get to the apartment before you disappear entirely. “please don’t hate me,” he mutters under his breath as his bmw roars down the street. “i’ll get on my knees if i have to. maybe not in public, but like…if it comes to that.”

meanwhile, you’re trudging through the dimly lit hallway of your apartment complex, the bus ride home having sucked every last ounce of life out of you. your feet ache, your bag feels heavier than ever, and your faith in men has plummeted to new depths. he didn’t even call back. the audacity, you think bitterly, fumbling for your keys. wasn’t i just defending international law men this morning? god, i’m so stupid.

you’re too busy cursing geto to notice the looming figure leaning casually against the wall by the elevator—sukuna. he smells like croissants and cigarettes, an objectively weird combination that somehow works when it’s him. his uniform—a black button-down rolled up to the elbows and an apron slung lazily over one shoulder—is dusted with flour. “yo,” he greets, his voice low and gravelly as always. you freeze mid-step, praying you don’t look like a drowned rat after that miserable commute. “uh, hey.”

“late night?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he takes in your obvious exhaustion. “something like that,” you mumble, trying not to sound as annoyed as you feel. sukuna’s sharp eyes flick to your bag. “bus, huh? thought you were too fancy for public transport these days. what happened to prince charming?” oh great. just what i needed, you think, rolling your eyes internally. “prince charming is currently on my list,” you snap, more to yourself than him. “yikes.” sukuna lets out a low chuckle, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “guess mr. perfect isn’t as perfect as you thought.”

“okay, first of all,” you shoot back, “i’m not having this conversation with you. second, why do you even care?” he shrugs, clearly unbothered. “i don’t. just funny to see you slumming it with the rest of us peasants.” before you can muster a witty retort, the sound of rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway. you both turn just in time to see geto rushing in, his tie slightly askew and his expression one of pure panic.

“there you are,” he blurts, skidding to a stop in front of you. his eyes dart between you and sukuna, his brows furrowing slightly. “oh, now you show up,” you say, crossing your arms. “did you have fun ghosting me for two hours?”

“wait, i can explain—”

“can’t wait to hear this,” sukuna mutters under his breath, earning a glare from you.

geto runs a hand through his hair, his words spilling out in a rush. “i got stuck at my internship, and they don’t let us use our phones— stupid rule, i know—but i swear i tried to get to you as fast as i could. i even broke, like, five traffic laws. maybe six.” you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“no! i mean, yes! i mean…” he groans, clearly flustered. “look, i’m sorry. really. i’ll do anything to make it up to you. please don’t be mad.” sukuna snickers, leaning back against the wall. “wow. anything, huh? bold move, law boy.”

“can you not?” you snap at sukuna before turning back to geto. “fine. you can start by explaining why my calls didn’t matter enough for you to pick up.”

“they did matter!” geto insists, his voice rising slightly. “i swear, if i could’ve answered, i would’ve.” sukuna snorts, muttering, “sounds like excuses to me.”

“dude, seriously?” geto snaps, finally losing his patience. “guys, enough!” you cut in, throwing your hands up. “i’m too tired for this. suguru, if you’re really sorry, you can start by leaving me alone for the rest of the night.”

geto’s face falls, but he nods reluctantly. “okay. yeah. i’ll go.” as he turns to leave, sukuna shoots you a smug grin. “guess prince charming isn’t so charming after all.” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

you’re sprawled out on your couch in the most dramatic fashion imaginable, mr. pickles perched on your chest like some kind of feline overlord. her tail swishes back and forth, slapping your face occasionally as if she’s judging you for your life choices. can’t even secure a law student, her gaze seems to say. and honestly? fair. lanas haunting voice croons “the other woman” from your speaker, because of course your brain thought this was the perfect soundtrack to your misery. who is the other woman, his degree? you wonder, staring blankly at the ceiling while mr. pickles kneads your collarbone with zero regard for your comfort. maybe it’s the un charter. maybe she’s prettier than me. you groan, picking up your phone to scroll aimlessly, only to see it light up with a string of notifications. it’s geto.

geto: hey. geto: i’m so sorry, seriously. geto: please don’t hate me. geto: gojo cat is crying.

and there it is, a picture of gojo cat edited with comically large tears streaming down his face. you snort despite yourself.

geto: i can explain. geto: the internship is evil. geto: satan himself probably drafted those treaties. geto: and i had to read them all. geto: sorry :((((

you roll your eyes but feel your lips twitch. the messages keep coming.

geto: look, i even made a playlist called “my apologies” to make it up to you. geto: song 1: sorry by justin bieber. geto: song 2: call me maybe by carly rae jespen. geto: song 3: i’m a fool by cee lo green.

you’re this close to laughing when another message pops up.

geto: please forgive me, i’ll do anything. geto: i’ll even let mr. pickles sit in the bmw.

now you’re grinning. typing back, you send:

you: door’s unlocked.

the next sound you hear is heavy footsteps thundering down the hallway above. you blink. “he’s running,” you mutter, barely containing your laughter. within seconds, there’s a knock at your door, and when you yell for him to come in, the door swings open to reveal a completely disheveled geto. his hair’s a mess, his suit jacket is halfway off his shoulder, and he’s panting like he just ran a marathon. “you’re serious about leaving your door unlocked?” he breathes out, a hand on the doorframe for balance. “why are you out of breath?” you ask, trying not to laugh. “you live one floor up.”

“sprinted,” he replies, straightening up. “priorities.”

mr. pickles hops off your chest with a disgruntled meow, sauntering over to sniff him. she gives a little approving chirp before settling down by his feet. “even mr. pickles forgave me,” he says, grinning like an idiot. “so, am i forgiven?” you lean back into the couch, trying to look unimpressed. “you sent me a justin bieber song.”

“a classic apology move,” he counters, stepping closer. “and gojo cat cried. that’s how sorry i am.” you roll your eyes but hold out your hand. “fine. you’re forgiven.” he takes your hand, pulling you up from the couch into his arms without hesitation. “good. because i’m never missing another ride again. next time, i’m picking you up in advance, like a whole hour early.” you snort. “you’d probably park outside my window and text me to hurry up.”

“absolutely,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’ll even bring coffee. and croissants.” mr. pickles lets out a loud, approving chirp. ah, love.

it did feel a little ridiculous, the way you were sprawled on top of geto on your couch, both of you tangled together in a heap of limbs. but neither of you seemed to care. he had one arm slung around your waist, keeping you steady, while his free hand lazily traced circles on your thigh. you were lying chest to chest, close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. "you know," he said, voice slightly muffled as he buried his face in your hair, "if i ever screw up like that again, i’m giving mr. pickles full authority to end me. claws out, no mercy." you lifted your head to meet his gaze, one eyebrow raised. "oh, she’d do it too. and with that belly of hers, she’s got some extra power now."

as if on cue, mr. pickles let out a loud, approving purr from her spot at the other end of the room, delicately grooming her very pregnant self. her tail flicked in what you could only assume was satisfaction at being included in this hypothetical revenge plot. geto chuckled, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. "there you have it. mr. pickles as judge, jury, and executioner. i’m officially terrified." you smiled, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger. "as you should be. she takes no prisoners."

“and neither do i,” he murmured, his tone dipping as he tilted his head up to kiss you. the shift in mood was sudden but not unwelcome. his lips pressed against yours with the kind of determination that made you forget how to breathe for a second. his hands slid to your hips, holding you in place as he leaned back against the cushions, taking you with him. "you’re really trying to prove a point, huh?" you teased, breath hitching as his grip tightened. "i don’t think words are enough," he said between kisses, his voice low and smooth. "actions speak louder, right?" and speak they did. his hands wandered lower, firmly grabbing the soft curve of your ass, earning a surprised squeak from you. "suguru," you warned half-heartedly, though your hips involuntarily shifted against him. he grinned up at you, the picture of smug satisfaction. "what? i don’t hear you complaining."

“yet,” you shot back, but your body betrayed you, rolling your hips again as heat pooled in your stomach. "thought so," he said, voice dipping into a near growl. his hands guided your movements, holding you steady as he kissed you again, deeper this time. it wasn’t just apologetic; it was hungry, desperate, and laced with a promise to make up for every missed second. mr. pickles, ever the unbothered queen, yawned loudly from her perch. apparently, the impending chaos was none of her business.

things were absolutely peachy—literally and figuratively—because there you were, straddling geto on your worn-out couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. his tie had been discarded somewhere (you’ll probably find it wedged under the couch cushions next month), and his usually crisp shirt was wrinkled beyond salvation. his hands, warm and firm, roamed over your thighs and hips, eventually settling on your ass, which he seemed determined to commit to memory with the way he kept squeezing. it was flattering, really. all those squats and lugging around mr. pickles’ oversized carrier had not gone unnoticed.

“you’re really into this, huh?” you teased between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip just to feel the soft hitch in his breath. he grinned against your lips, shameless and unrepentant. “what can i say? i’m a man of taste.” his hands squeezed again, making you jolt slightly. “and damn, this is a masterpiece.”

“oh my god, suguru,” you groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified. “you sound like a bad rom-com character.” he tilted his head back, letting out a deep, rumbling laugh that made your stomach flip. “hey, i call it like i see it. can’t help it if i’m honest.”

“yeah, well, your honesty’s about to get you kicked off this couch,” you shot back, though your hands betrayed you, sliding up his chest to cup his face. “oh, c’mon,” he said, leaning up to kiss you again, softer this time, like he was trying to remind you exactly why you hadn’t kicked him out yet. “you’d miss me too much.” and then, because suguru geto couldn’t let a moment of peace exist, he smirked and said, “besides, you’re the grandma of the house. gotta respect my elders.” you froze, pulling back just enough to stare at him with a look that could melt steel. “excuse me?”

“grandma,” he repeated, entirely too pleased with himself. “you know, since you’re mr. pickles’ mom and all. technically makes you—”

“i swear to god, suguru,” you interrupted, cutting him off with a sharp pinch to his side that made him yelp. “do you have a death wish?”

“what? it’s a term of endearment!” he tried, though his laughter betrayed him. “you’re lucky i like nerds,” you muttered, but your lips betrayed you, curving into a reluctant smile as you leaned down to kiss him again. “lucky indeed,” he murmured, hands finding their favorite spot once more. mr. pickles, meanwhile, let out a loud, judgmental meow from her perch, as if to remind both of you who really ran this house.

and geto? geto was panicking. like, full-blown, internal monologue of doom panicking. sure, he looked calm on the outside—well, except for the faint pink creeping up his neck and the way his hands were starting to tremble just a bit against your hips. but inside? oh, it was a mess.

he loves ass. he loves your ass. in fact, he loves you. and while those three facts should be enough to keep him focused and confident, they were doing the exact opposite. because—plot twist—he hasn’t exactly been in the game for a while. “okay, breathe, suguru,” he muttered to himself under his breath, trying to keep his cool as your hands idly played with the collar of his shirt. but your superwoman instincts picked up on everything , and your raised brow as you looked down at him only made things worse. “you good?” you asked, voice soft and teasing, but laced with genuine concern. “yeah, totally,” he replied too quickly, clearing his throat like that would erase the way his voice cracked. “i’m just—uh. just, you know... thinking.” you tilted your head, watching him with that infuriatingly cute little smile that made his stomach flip. “about what? you’re usually a lot smoother than this, geto.”

“oh god, i’m blowing it,” he groaned, letting his head thump lightly against the back of the couch as he finally let the words tumble out. “it’s just... it’s been a while, okay? i’m out of practice or whatever, and now i’m worried i’m gonna, like, disappoint you or something. and that grandma joke? yeah, that was supposed to kill the mood so i could avoid all of this.” you blinked at him, caught between laughter and disbelief. “are you serious right now?”

“painfully.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his other hand still planted on your hip. “you’re amazing, and i just... i don’t want to mess this up.” for a moment, you just stared at him, and he could feel himself shrinking under your gaze. but then, the smile that spread across your face was nothing short of wicked. “oh, suguru,” you murmured, leaning down so your lips brushed against his ear. “you have no idea what’s coming, do you?” his breath hitched as your hand slid down to the buttons of his shirt, popping one open with a practiced ease that made his heart skip a beat. “w-what do you mean?”

“i mean,” you said, voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sent shivers down his spine, “i’m about to make sure you never, ever doubt yourself again. you’re gonna be too busy thanking me to think about whether or not you’re ‘out of practice.’”

he swallowed hard, trying to think of a coherent response, but all that came out was a strangled, “uh — okay.”

“good,” you said simply, shifting your weight and sliding down his lap. and as he looked down at you, wide-eyed and completely at your mercy, one thing became crystal clear to suguru geto: he was absolutely, 100%, in over his head.

diva down? diva down. the diva in question being you. you, the self-proclaimed diva of the century, were currently on your knees, ready to turn suguru geto’s jittery, bashful energy into something far more relaxed—well, if relaxed meant completely wrecked. and honestly? you were thriving. “oh god,” geto let out a breathless laugh, raking a hand through his loose hair as he looked down at you, his cheeks pink and his eyes hazy with anticipation. “you don’t have to—”

“stop,” you cut him off with a teasing smirk, fingers already working on his belt with the precision of someone on a mission. “don’t ruin my moment, suguru.” he laughed again, that soft, breathless kind that made your stomach do flips. “right, wouldn’t dream of it.” as you slid his belt free and popped open the button of his slacks, you couldn’t help but notice how his chest rose and fell just a bit faster, the faintest hint of nerves lingering in his gaze. “you good up there?” you asked, giving him a little grin. “y-yeah,” he stammered, licking his lips. “just... uhh, taking it all in.”

“oh, you’re gonna be taking a lot more than that in a second,” you teased, tugging at his slacks. he groaned, tipping his head back against the couch as he laughed again, but he still lifted his hips eagerly to help you slide the fabric down. and holy shit. those slacks had been doing a lot of heavy lifting, and now, with them out of the way, you were faced with undeniable proof that suguru geto was not just hot, but also packing. “damn,” you muttered, your eyes widening just a bit as you took him in. “what?” he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness, but also curiosity. “nothing,” you said quickly, though your smirk betrayed you. “just... wow.”

“wow?” he echoed, his brows lifting.

“wow,” you confirmed, leaning in closer. “you’re full of surprises, huh?”

he chuckled softly, his hand coming down to rest gently on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that was almost too sweet for the situation. “i could say the same about you,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “oh, suguru,” you said with a teasing lilt, your hands bracing against his thighs as you leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him. “you have no idea.” and as you finally got to work, suguru let out a sound that was half laugh, half moan, his head tipping back as his hand slid into your hair. yeah, it was definitely going to be a long night—for both of you. and honestly?

bless men raised by their mothers. or at least men who respect women beyond a surface level, because suguru geto? he was proving himself to be a certified sweetheart even with his brain turned to mush. "god, you're...you're so good at this," he babbled, voice pitched just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "like—ohhh, fuck—you’re perfect. seriously, i don’t know how—fuck—you’re even real."

you couldn’t help but smirk around him, though the sheer earnestness in his tone was making your head spin. suguru wasn’t just moaning—no, he was giving you a running commentary like his life depended on it. and honestly? the mix of his praise, his ridiculous vocabulary, and the raw honesty of his reactions were doing more for you than you cared to admit. "shiiit, babe," he groaned, his hand tightening in your hair as his hips shifted just slightly, like he was trying to hold himself back. "you’re incredible. so... so fucking—god, you’re beautiful." you hummed against him, letting the vibrations travel through him, and the broken moan he let out in response was almost enough to make you moan.“i—fuck,” he stammered, his free hand clenching and unclenching on the couch cushion as though he was trying to ground himself. “i can’t even—fuck, you’re amazing. you know that, right? like, amazing.”

it was ridiculous, really. this level of detailed, horny babbling shouldn’t be hot, and yet, suguru’s desperate, unfiltered honesty was doing a number on you. you’d kiss him if your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. “you’re gonna—oh fuck, you’re gonna ruin me,” he rasped, his words punctuated by a low, shaky laugh. “like, actually. no coming back from this. you’re—shit—so perfect, babe. i don’t even know how you’re real.” you glanced up at him briefly, catching the flush on his cheeks and the dazed, almost reverent look in his eyes. he looked wrecked already, and you weren’t even close to finished. yeah, men raised right were a blessing. and suguru geto? he was living proof.

suguru was going to cry. or die. or both. maybe at the same time. because when a simple, god-loving, god-fearing man like him thought of you—his girl, his love—his mind didn’t stop at the surface. no, it wandered far, far into the future. he dared to dream big: marriage, a nice house with you, gojo cat and mr. pickles running the place with their eventual brood of kittens, and maybe, if he let himself get really carried away, a kid or two of your own. but this? this was not in the script. not the way he imagined this happening, not this soon. was he complaining, though? no, not one bit. still, suguru couldn’t shake the way his brain was short-circuiting. what if you thought this was weird? not the moment itself—because, holy shit, this moment was unreal—but the way he couldn’t control the ridiculous rambling bubbling out of him.

“god, you’re... you’re gonna be the death of me,” he stammered, his voice breaking slightly as his hand tightened on the couch cushion beneath him. “seriously. i’m done for. you’ve—fuck—you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. literally, figuratively... h-hell, every way there is.” he let out a shaky laugh, his other hand brushing the edge of your jaw, his touch featherlight like he was afraid he’d break you—or worse, wake up and find out this was all a dream. “you have no idea, do you?” he murmured, his tone softening even as his breaths came uneven. “how much i—fuck, how much i love you.”

that admission was supposed to stay locked in his chest, hidden away alongside the future house and the diary full of thoughts he would probably never admit aloud. but there it was, laid bare in the open. his throat tightened as he watched for your reaction, his heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to break free. his mind raced with every possibility—what if you thought he was moving too fast? what if this ruined everything?

you were going to die. or cry. or both. maybe not in that order, but the emotional whiplash was real. because while you were—let's face it—giving the performance of your life, suguru geto had the audacity to play the wildest card in his hand: he told you he loved you. the words hit you like a sucker punch, making your brain screech to a halt. you paused, pulling him out of your mouth with a slick, obscene pop, a strand of spit still connecting the two of you as you gaped at him like he’d just told you the earth was flat. “wait, what?” your voice was hoarse, a little breathless, and full of disbelief. your hands remained steady on his thighs, but you weren’t about to let that slide. “say that again.”

suguru blinked at you, his flushed face half-covered by the messy curtain of his hair. and yet, somehow, he still looked every bit the breathtaking dork you fell for. “i... i said i love you,” he mumbled, his voice soft, but you could see the telltale signs of his nerves in the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. oh, you knew you won now. your lips curved into a sly, wicked grin, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons that had nothing to do with what you were doing moments ago. “good,” you said simply, your voice low and teasing, before brushing your thumb over his hip bone in a way that made him shiver. “because i love you too, suguru.” the way his eyes widened, his chest hitching in disbelief, was almost enough to undo you completely. but you weren’t done. oh no, not by a long shot.

you leaned in again, doubling down on your efforts with a newfound determination, your mouth warm and eager as you took him back in. this time, you didn’t hold back, letting him feel just how much you meant those words. the soft noises tumbling out of him turned into broken, desperate moans as you let him slide deeper, letting him bump against the back of your throat with a confidence that made his hips jerk. “holy—fucck, baby, ” he gasped, his voice trembling as his hands instinctively tangled in your hair. “you’re—oh my god—i can’t—”

and just like that, he was gone. the way his body tensed, his hand gripping the back of the couch like a lifeline, was all the warning you got before he tipped over the edge, his release hitting you with an intensity that left him trembling beneath you. you pulled back slightly, swallowing and smirking as he looked down at you with dazed, love-struck eyes, his chest heaving. “you okay there, lover boy?” you teased, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you crawled up to straddle him. he groaned, dragging his hands over his flushed face, but even through his embarrassment, you could see the adoration shining in his gaze. “you’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, but the small, lovesick smile on his lips said he wouldn’t have it any other way.

somewhere in the tangled chaos of his mind, suguru was thinking about reciprocity in customary international law—something about how states are expected to treat each other in kind. why this popped into his head as he helped you up from your knees, he had no idea. maybe his brain was short-circuiting from everything that had just transpired. or maybe it was just his nerdy coping mechanism for the sheer intensity of what was about to go down. either way, he shelved the thought because all he knew—clearly, distinctly, and beyond a shadow of a doubt—was that you needed help. erm, his girl needed help. and suguru geto? he was nothing if not a gentleman. “alright, up you go,” he said, his voice warm and teasing as he hooked an arm around you, effortlessly lifting you.

before you could even fully process what was happening, he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, carrying you to the bed. “oh my god, suguru!” you squealed, smacking his back, but there was no real heat behind it. " shh, this is for your benefit,” he said, laughing softly as he adjusted his grip. and with a surprising amount of precision for a man who had just been thoroughly flustered minutes earlier, he tossed you onto the bed. somehow, miraculously, you landed gracefully—no awkward angles or unflattering positions. before you could catch your breath, suguru was already yanking down your pajama shorts, his movements sure and deliberate. his hair, still a little messy from your earlier efforts, framed his face as he looked down at you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of affection and hunger. you smirked, propping yourself up on your elbows. “you know, if you’re really feeling sorry, there’s one thing you could do.” his brows raised, intrigued. “oh? what’s that?”

“sit down,” you said casually, leaning back against the pillows. “because i’m sitting on your face.” suguru froze for half a second, and you could swear you saw his soul leave his body. but then he let out a low, almost reverent laugh, his hands already sliding up your thighs as he knelt onto the bed. “you’re killing me,” he muttered, his lips curving into a grin that was equal parts adoring and wicked. “but if you insist…” and as he settled himself beneath you, looking up at you with pure devotion, he thought to himself—if he had a ring right now, he’d propose without a second thought.

sit on his face? seriously? where the hell did that confidence come from? because let’s be real—have you ever sat on someone’s face before? no? yeah, that’s what i thought. so it really serves you right for hovering over suguru’s face in the most awkward, hesitant way possible after you practically tore your underwear off like a woman on a mission. and suguru, bless his sweet, sweet soul, was waiting so patiently. expectantly, even. until he let out this deep chuckle—low and warm and way too sexy for your own good—and before you could spiral any further into overthinking, he reached up and yanked you down onto his face. oh. OH. there was no time to process, no moment to think, because suddenly the same mouth that usually went on and on about laws, treaties, and whatever international nonsense was now french kissing your cunt like it was his one true calling in life.

you moaned—loud and borderline pornographic—but could you really help it? suguru groaned against you, the vibrations shooting straight through you as his grip tightened on your thighs, holding you firmly in place like he had absolutely no plans of letting you escape. you tried. god, you tried to play it cool. tried to pull a geto on him with a little bit of horny babbling of your own, figuring he’d appreciate the effort. but every time you so much as opened your mouth to string a coherent sentence together, suguru would double down on his actions—his tongue flicking or curling in ways that had you seeing stars—and whatever you’d been planning to say vanished into the void, replaced by high-pitched whines and breathy moans.

“suguru—oh my god—”

he hummed in response, the sound smug and almost teasing as he looked up at you from between your legs, his dark eyes practically glowing with amusement and pride. “you talk too much,” he mumbled against you, the words muffled but clear enough to make your face heat up. and honestly? you’d be offended if he weren’t so goddamn good at what he was doing.

geto was putting in the work. the work. and you? you were trying not to cry or completely lose your mind, but if you did, you had a sneaking suspicion he’d love it more than anything. the man had a thing for drama—especially if it was drama he caused. but in the middle of all this face-sitting, tongue-lapping, thigh-gripping madness, you noticed something else.

geto was hard. painfully so. the sight of him below you was already sinful enough, but the way his erection strained against his boxers, twitching every time you moaned his name, was almost too much. his response time to recover was unreal—maddening, even—but considering it was you on top of him, you liked to think you deserved the credit. and since a wise saying says to love your neighbor as yourself, you decided to help a man out. literally. your hand snaked down between you two, wrapping around his length with a touch that had him freezing for a split second. “what are you—oh, fuck, ” geto choked out, the sound muffled against your thighs as you yanked down his boxers and started stroking him.

he let out a garbled groan and—you couldn’t make this up—spat. he outright spat onto your cunt, the hot slickness dripping between your folds, and you? you loved it. the move earned him a sharp gasp, followed by a breathless laugh as you sped up your hand, squeezing him just enough to draw out those pretty whines you loved so much. “oh my god, suguru,” you teased, voice shaky but teasing nonetheless. “did you just—?”

“shut up,” he grunted, his words nearly swallowed by a low moan as you swiped your thumb over his tip. “you’re the one—fuck—driving me insane right now.” and judging by the desperate way he buried his face against you, tongue moving feverishly as his hips bucked into your hand, you’d say he was enjoying this just as much as you were. but the real kicker? when you came, your body instinctively pressed down against his face, your thighs squeezing tight enough to almost cut off his air supply. geto didn’t complain. not once. if anything, the muffled groan against your cunt and the way he jerked against your hand as he came told you he’d gladly die like this if it came to it. but luckily for both of you, you lived to tell the tale.

once the both of you had managed to throw on some semblance of clothing, clean up, and collapse into the bed, that’s when reality hit geto like a brick wall. what. the. hell. just happened. as he laid there, his arm slung lazily around you, your soft breathing against his chest, his brain decided now was the perfect time to spiral. he glanced over at mr. pickles, who sat perched on the counter in the kitchenette, her tail flicking in judgment. the cat looked like she was debating calling the authorities on him for defiling her beloved owner. oh god. what does this make the two of you?

no, scratch that. the real panic set in when he remembered: he told you he loved you. not in some subtle, cute, roundabout way either. no, it was the full-blown, l-o-v-e type of confession. the kind he wrote about in his secret diary he kept under his bed. the kind that implied white picket fences, shared dreams, and a life together. and judging by the way you were pressed against him, one leg draped over his, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his bare chest (because yes, the formal shirt had been entirely ditched), you were either about to let him down easy or...

oh god.

“you okay?” your soft voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, your hand pausing its movements as you tilted your head to look up at him. he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing. “uh, yeah. yeah, totally fine.” you squinted at him, your lips twitching like you were trying not to laugh. “you sure? you’re looking a little... out of it.” well, there was no way out of this now. in all his dorkus glory, he blurted out the dreaded question:

“so, uh... what are we?”

the words hung in the air for a second, and geto wanted to melt into the mattress. but instead of laughing or teasing him, you smiled, your expression soft and fond. “what do you want us to be?”

“i mean...” he swallowed hard, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “i said i loved you, so... maybe something serious?” you grinned, pressing a kiss to his chest. “good. because i’m not letting you go after that performance, lover boy.” and just like that, geto decided he could die happy. even if mr. pickles never forgave him.

chapter 6: the class you’ll never forget

geto woke up feeling like the main character in some rom-com where everything had finally fallen into place. the sun was shining directly on his face, his skin was clear, the tension that had been tying his muscles in knots for weeks was gone, and most importantly, there was you snuggled up next to him. your soft snores were music to his ears, and mr. pickles' contented purring from her nesting area completed the picture. everything was perfect. except for the yeowling.

it started faint, like the distant sound of a car alarm, and grew steadily louder. groaning, geto rubbed his face. “what the hell...?” he suddenly bolted upright, realization hitting him like a freight train. “oh no. oh no, no, no.” you groggily stirred beside him, blinking up at him in confusion. “what’s wrong?”

“gojo,” he groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. “i left him alone in my apartment last night. he probably thinks i’m dead.” you blinked, then snorted. “that’s dramatic, even for a cat.”

but geto wasn’t joking. he’d seen gojo cat throw tantrums over him leaving for ten minutes to grab milk. this? this was abandonment on a grand scale in the eyes of the overly dramatic feline. as if on cue, the voice of your landlord, yaga, boomed from the other side of the door. “keep that cat quiet, or i’m calling animal control!” you gasped indignantly, sitting up. “excuse me! mr. pickles would never—”

“it’s not mr. pickles!” geto groaned, already throwing on his pants. “it’s my overly theatrical—”

just as he was about to open the door to go upstairs, a loud thud echoed from the direction of your fire escape. the two of you froze.

“what was that?” you whispered.

geto peeked out the window, his jaw dropping. “oh my god. no.”

there, perched precariously on the fire escape outside your window, was gojo cat. his tail swished furiously, and he was glaring through the glass like he had just tracked his runaway owner down on sheer willpower alone.

“he... jumped from my window to yours.”

“that’s, like, one story up!” you exclaimed.

“i know!”

gojo cat let out another ear-piercing yeowwww! that sounded suspiciously like he was cursing geto out in feline language. “okay, okay , i’m coming!” geto sighed, sliding the window open to let the cat in. gojo cat pranced inside with all the dignity of someone who had just won an olympic gold medal, ignoring you entirely as he hopped onto geto’s torso and began aggressively kneading his shoulder. “i’m sorry, okay?” geto muttered. “i didn’t mean to abandon you.” gojo cat meowed smugly, his forgiveness conditional.

“so... how mad would you be if i told you yaga still thinks this is mr. pickles’ fault?” you asked, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. geto groaned, flopping back onto the bed, gojo cat still perched on his chest. “this is my life now. cat dad, tenant offender, and boyfriend to the world’s most beautiful woman.” you grinned, kissing his cheek. “and don’t you forget it.”

gojo cat, ever the drama queen, was about to make a grand display of his wrath, his tail swishing like an emperor preparing to deliver a royal decree. but then, he saw her.

mr. pickles. lounging in her nesting area, belly round with her impending litter, she cast him the most witheringly judgmental side-eye known to catkind. it wasn’t even subtle. her disdain radiated like heat off asphalt, and for a moment, gojo cat’s indignant rage faltered. but then, like the suave rogue he believed himself to be, he straightened up, puffed out his chest, and strutted toward her with a confidence that could only be described as delusional. it was all tail flicks and exaggerated steps, as though the very floor beneath him had the privilege of bearing his paws.

and then—smack. the grand feline tumbled, face planting into the ground with all the grace of a wet noodle.

you tried to stifle your laugh, but the sound still slipped out. geto choked back a snort, muttering, “that’s my boy.” mr. pickles, however, did not laugh. no, the dignified queen merely let out a single approving chirp, a sound that might have translated to "pathetic, but amusing." gojo cat, undeterred by his embarrassing mishap, rose with renewed determination. and with the kind of courage that made you question if he had a screw loose, he approached mr. pickles once more, his intentions clear.

“no way,” you whispered.

“he wouldn’t,” geto added, equally mesmerized.

but he did. gojo cat, in what he undoubtedly believed was the ultimate gesture of love, began grooming mr. pickles. grooming her. and she let him.

for a moment, you thought she was going to swipe at him with all the fury of a hormonal mom-to-be. but no. she actually closed her eyes, her purring like a soft motor. it was... surreal.

“did we just witness the biggest romance of the century?” you asked, genuinely baffled. “bigger than us?” geto teased, pulling you closer. “way bigger,” you deadpanned.

as you both watched the unlikely duo share their moment, you couldn’t help but laugh. gojo cat was clearly putting his all into his attempt at love, and mr. pickles? well, she looked like she was actually enjoying it.

“ah, love,” geto sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your head. “even dumber than us,” you added, shaking your head in disbelief.

you were on cloud nine, feeling a level of peace and contentment that only came from having a hot law nerd boyfriend and a cat with enough sass to rival gojo cat himself. geto's bmw hummed quietly beneath you as the two of you cruised toward campus. it wasn’t just the morning coffee kicking in; it was the knowledge that if this man dared to be late—even by two minutes—mr. pickles would end him. like, not even metaphorically. she’d leap on him, claws out, and make him regret. because mr. pickles loved his hair. she loved kneading it, curling her paws into his long, luscious locks as if claiming her personal throne. and honestly? you got it. if you were a cat, you’d do the same. hell, even as a human, you’d do it (and did, regularly).

as he pulled into the parking lot, the goodbye routine began. “don’t forget to text me when your class ends,” he said, already pulling you into a warm hug. “don’t forget to pick me up, or we’re breaking up,” you countered sweetly, earning a laugh from him. “you’re scary, you know that?” he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “and you’re my very gorgeous, very whipped boyfriend,” you shot back, leaning up for a kiss. he wouldn’t dream of ghosting you—not when you were this beautiful, amazing, kind, and, obviously, a little unhinged. as he opened your door and helped you out like the true gentleman he was, he insisted on walking you all the way to the front entrance. his hand rested at the small of your back, a gesture that had you swooning even as you teased him.

“you do know you’re going to be late, right?”

“worth it,” he replied with a grin, bending down to kiss your cheek. but just as you were about to part ways, a booming voice shattered the moment.

“GETO! LAW STUDENTS BUILDING! NOW!”

you both turned to see a very exasperated professor waving frantically at him from across the quad. you couldn’t help but laugh as geto sighed, muttering under his breath about how “love is a battlefield.” he gave you one last kiss, muttered a promise to pick you up later (or else), and jogged off. you watched him go, smiling like an idiot as you whispered, “ah, love.”

the day started fine. better than fine, actually—you left geto’s bmw with a kiss and the knowledge that your cat, mr. pickles, was safe and sound in her nesting area, glaring at gojo cat with the fury only a pregnant feline could muster. but halfway through your lecture on post-modern feminist theories (a riveting topic, truly), your phone buzzed. it wasn’t a normal notification. no, it was the cctv feed suguru had installed as a “gift” to keep an eye on your “queen” (read: your absolute dictator cat). and there she was—mr. pickles—kneading her nesting area with an urgency that sent a chill down your spine.

“oh. oh no. oh dear god.” you whispered, staring at the screen as she let out a war cry that could only mean one thing: grandmahood was happening. you shot up from your seat so fast your desk screeched against the floor. “is everything okay?” your professor asked, startled by your abrupt movement.

“uh, yeah! just — cat emergency! she’s — uh — giving birth!” you stammered, already halfway out the door.

“congratulations?” someone in the back called out, earning a round of laughter you had no time for.

you sprinted through campus like a woman possessed, your backpack bouncing behind you as you cursed yourself for not realizing mr. pickles’ morning mood wasn’t jealousy but labor. and then—because fate had to test you—geto appeared, casually strolling toward the law building with his usual unbothered grace. “babe?” he called out, watching you bolt past him like you were auditioning for the olympics. “no time to explain!” you yelled over your shoulder. he frowned, putting two and two together because, let’s face it, the man’s a genius. “is it mr. pickles?!”

“YES!”

and then he started running behind you.

“suguru!” you wheezed, already out of breath. “GET YOUR CAR!”

“why?” he shouted, effortlessly keeping pace with you.

“because we’re running across a campus that’s like thousand acres and I WILL DIE!”

he paused, muttering something about how you were so dramatic, before pivoting on his heel and sprinting toward the parking lot.

you barely made it to the main road before suguru’s bmw skidded to a stop beside you.

“get in!” he barked, throwing the passenger door open.

“i swear to god, if she starts delivering while we’re stuck in traffic —”

“she’s not gonna start without you,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“cats don’t work like that, suguru!”

“well, neither do women, but here we are,” he shot back, pulling into the driveway of your building.

you bolted out of the car, taking the stairs two at a time while suguru trailed behind with all the urgency of a man who knows he’ll be the one cleaning up whatever mess awaited. when you burst into the apartment, mr. pickles was mid-contraction, glaring at you like, finally, my useless human has arrived. gojo cat, meanwhile, looked terrified, hovering at a safe distance as if he was considering calling 911. “okay, okay, we’re here!” you panted, dropping to your knees beside mr. pickles. suguru followed, looking at the scene with wide eyes. “do...do we call a vet?”

“no! she’s got this. we just have to support her!”

“support her how?”

“i don’t know! emotional support?”

“she’s a cat!”

mr. pickles let out a low growl, silencing suguru’s protests. “okay, okay, i’ll shut up,” he muttered, backing away slightly. the door creaked open, and there stood shoko, still in her scrubs and sporting the exhausted yet curious expression of someone returning from a night shift only to walk straight into chaos. “what’s going on here?” she asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. you barely spared her a glance as you clutched suguru’s arm. “mr. pickles is in labor. it’s a whole thing. prayers are appreciated.”

“prayers?” she scoffed, stepping closer. “i’m a doctor. i got this.”

relief washed over you. “thank god, shoko! we could use an actual professional!”

but the moment she peeked over the edge of mr. pickles’ nesting area and caught sight of a tiny kitten halfway out, her calm demeanor shattered.

“OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!”

“what do you think it is?” suguru deadpanned, visibly unimpressed. “i don’t know! i didn’t sign up for this!” shoko shrieked, stumbling backward and holding her hands up as if warding off an unholy demon.

you blinked at her, utterly dumbfounded. “aren’t you a doctor?”

“a human doctor! this is nature gone rogue! ”

mr. pickles, clearly unamused by shoko’s dramatics, let out a low, guttural growl that sent the so-called professional scurrying back to the doorway. “you’re on your own,” shoko muttered, lighting a cigarette like the events unfolding in your living room weren’t directly her problem. meanwhile, gojo cat, always the overachiever, decided he needed to help. unfortunately, his idea of help involved attempting to paw at the nearest kitten. “don’t even think about it!” suguru warned, his voice laced with exasperation.

but it was too late—mr. pickles, mid-contraction, turned her fiery gaze on gojo cat, who froze like a deer in headlights. one wrong flick of his tail, and mr. pickles let out a feral hiss that could have sent shoko back to med school. gojo cat, realizing he had crossed the line, slinked back to the corner, tail tucked between his legs, his usual swagger replaced with what could only be described as embarrassed defeat. “well, that’s one way to keep him in line,” you muttered.

“this is insane,” shoko said, still watching from the doorway. “how do you people live like this?”

“we manage,” suguru replied, his tone completely void of humor as he massaged his temples.

the next hour was a whirlwind of cat screams, your whispered words of encouragement, and suguru pacing like an expectant father in a sitcom. “should we name one after me?” he asked at one point, earning a glare from both you and mr. pickles as she finally let out one final push, and another tiny kitten entered the world. you let out a relieved sigh, and suguru finally cracked a smile. he was crouched beside you, holding your hand as if you were the one giving birth. “you did amazing,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“she did amazing,” you corrected, motioning to mr. pickles.

“team effort,” he replied with a grin.

and as mr. pickles began cleaning her newest babies, shoko muttered from the door, “you’re all insane. call me when it’s over.”

“you’re the godmother, shoko!” you called after her, earning a muffled string of curses as she disappeared down the hall.

“we’re gonna need so much cat food,” he muttered, pulling you close.

ah, the miracle of life.

a few weeks had passed since d-day—delivery day, or as suguru had renamed it, “domestic chaos day.” the kittens were growing faster than you thought possible, transforming your once peaceful apartment into a battlefield. mr. pickles ruled the roost with an iron paw, while gojo cat’s ego took a daily beating as the kittens bested him at every turn. every time one managed to leap higher, run faster, or swipe his tail just right, his tail would puff up in indignation like a furry balloon. you’d managed to rehome a few of the kittens, starting with shoko.

her kitten—affectionately dubbed “roach” for her uncanny ability to survive despite zero effort—was the perfect match. low-maintenance, unfazed, and perpetually napping. shoko had initially protested, but now you’d catch her sending you pictures of roach curled up in her sink or casually perched on her liquor cabinet.

then there was yuuji. poor, sweet, persistent yuuji. he’d campaigned harder for a kitten than some politicians do for office. the boy went through hoops — begging you, suguru, choso, sukuna, and even mr. pickles. you weren’t sure how he’d pulled it off, but eventually, he was deemed worthy of a black-and-white troublemaker he promptly named “gumi.” the kitten adored yuuji and spent most of his time riding on his shoulders like a parrot, though you suspected yuuji let him get away with far too much.

sukuna, on the other hand, had reluctantly taken the runt of the litter after it refused to leave him alone. “don’t need some damn cat,” he’d grumbled the entire way home. now? the tiny kitten followed him everywhere, even sneaking into his apron pockets after he came back from work. he pretended to hate it, but the soft grumbles about “stupid runt” were always followed by careful, protective pats on the kitten’s tiny head.

but the biggest surprise of all came when suguru decided to make your relationship public—on linkedin. linkedin, of all places.

it had started as a joke. you’d teased him about not “properly asking you out” after all this time, and before you knew it, he’d crafted a three-paragraph-long post about you. “in a comitted relationship with the love of my life, and no, this isn’t a humble brag — it’s a masterpiece,” he’d typed with the fervor of a man defending his dissertation. the post included references to romantic literature, quotes from classic movies, and, somehow, a detailed analysis of how mr. pickles and gojo cat played pivotal roles in your story.

you’d wanted to die of second-hand embarrassment, but the post blew up. colleagues, professors, and even strangers commented, congratulating the two of you. “you’re insane,” you’d told him, hiding your face in his chest as he laughed. “insane about you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

life wasn’t perfect — it was loud, chaotic, and occasionally overwhelming. but with mr. pickles, gojo cat, and your ridiculous yet lovable boyfriend, it was better than you ever imagined.

feline parenthood? best decision ever.

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acewriter · 3 days ago

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I will admit that I tried ChatGPT once for a writing concept. I asked it to create some lyrics to a song that I could potentially use within the text of my book. And it was absolutely horrible. And I won’t use it for writing ever again. Even then, it was meant to help me in my writing process, not take it over.

I won’t defend my action, but I will provide context.

I had this idea for a teenaged band performing in the woods. And a ghost shows up to disrupt the performance. The song ends up being about this ghost and the land.

And I wanted to give some background to this apparition. I thought it would be terrible not to explore some lore behind this potential character.

The song was supposed to be about a fictional witch in my fictional city in the 1600s. And the things that she had to put up with and deal with throughout her life. And why she still haunts the grounds hundreds of years later.

And I even decided to write a book about that witch, exploring more than what the song does.

But the ai did such a horrible and awfully repetitive job at this. I’ve never written lyrics before, but it’s made me more confident that I could do better on my own.

I don’t regret trying, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m glad I tried it. I’ll just start talking to all my musician friends instead. That sounds like more fun anyway.

*struggles while writing* i suck and writing is hard

*remembers some ppl use ai* i am a creative force. i am uncorrupted by theft and indolence. i am on a journey to excellence. it is my duty to keep taking joy in creating.

#fuck ai #writing #queer community

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enwoso · 3 days ago

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BOUND BY THE PAST | alessia russo x child!reader

it’s another long one, 4.1k words of angst and a small bit of fluff in there somewhere🤏🏼. honestly this was fun to write, and i’ve also in the process lost the request so whoever requested this thank you!

but what i will say is, i really wouldn’t wanna mess with alessia tbh.. especially after reading this. girl goes full on mama protection mode.

anyways enough spoilers, enjoy!

grumpy masterlist | psa: this fic is set after a bridge to cross, so i would recommend reading that to find out who harrison is.

the emirates stadium was alive with cheers as the final whistle blew, alessia felt the familiar rush of victory as her teammates surrounded her. the game had been a triumph and the buzz of the crowd still echoed through the stadium.

alessia's gaze scanned the stands briefly, somewhere closer to the bench was alessia's parents and her older brothers along with leah's family all cheering along, them choosing to sit in the stands for once in stead of the comfort of the friends and family box to be able to feel the excitement of the win as the season was coming to an end.

but her focus shifted as she searched for some other faces entirely, you were seated in the box with your dad, harrison. it had all been alessia's idea, she knew her family were coming but if they were seated on other sides of the stadium.

in alessia's mind the plan was foolproof, she had told her family that you were having a going out with harrison, and she had told harrison step by step what to do to not bump into her family.

even leah didn't know about harrison coming to watch the game.

"so tiny isn't coming today?" leah asked as she sat tying her shoelaces clad in a full arsenal tracksuit, her hair in a messy bun.

alessia shook her head as she finished making her pre-match drink, "no harrison's taking her out for the day, it's the only day he could do this week and i think he said something about taking her to the soft play" alessia explained, it hadn't been the only day he could do this week and he definitely didn't mention a soft play.

alessia in her mind knew the plan would work, she kept it this way, not telling anyone as she knew how fragile yeh situation was. she didn't want to ruin the one of the last home games of the season for anyone or at least have to deal with the inevitable confrontation — at not before she had to.

—

"mummy!" alessia froze mid step, the familiar sound of your voice ringing out through the corridor as she tried to make her way to the family area after having been showered post-match. her heart skipping. a mix of delight and apprehension filling her chest.

turning towards the sound, her breath caught the sight of you bouncing down the hall, your tiny hand firmly clasped around harrison's.

harrison followed hesitantly, probably knowing alessia would say something to chastise him about not sticking to the plan. his tall frame towering over the little girl as he let her lead him.

his posture was awkward, as his shoulders were slightly hunched as a white t-shirt adorned his body his long arms filled with tattoos as he looked as if he wanted to shrink himself.

his eyes darted around nervously, scanning the area. he was well aware this wasn't the plan.

"y/n, slow down," he muttered, glancing back towards the way they'd came. he had hoped to avoid running into anyone, let alone alessia's family.

but you were determined, your hair which was in little pigtails bounced as you practically skipped towards the private family area. you coming to a hault in front of your grandparent, your uncles and leah's family who were in there too.

you looking up at your mummy's shocked face with an innocent grin, "i brought daddy to see you, mummy!" you announced proudly looking between both harrison and alessia as if you'd just presented your mum with the greatest gift

harrison cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly under the weight of several pairs of stunned eyes. "hello" he said softly, giving a weak wave.

the room froze, as alessia's parents exchanged wide eyed glances her mum placing a hand over her chest as if steadying herself more than likely knowing what was about to happen. her dad's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as they flickered to alessia awaiting for her to say something.

but instead it was luca who broke the silence.

"what the hell is he doing here?" his voice was sharp and dripping from venom as he already moved forward as if to place himself between harrison and alessia.

"luca." carol warned but it was too late.

harrison instinctively pulled you a little closer, your hand tightening around his. "i'm not- i don't mean to-"

"you didn't mean to what?" gio cut in stepping up beside luca. his tone was cold as his expression was one of pure disbelief. "show up uninvited? drag her into this?" he gestured towards you as you were becoming more and more closed off.

"i wasn't trying to cause trouble," harrison said quickly his voice calm as he glanced down at you who was looking around and at him with confusion, clearly sensing the tension. "she wanted to see her mum, i didn't want to upset her."

"you've already done enough of that," luca snapped his tone still laced with venom.

the comment from luca, seemed to hit a nerve. harrison's expression shifted, his calm demeanour giving way to frustration. he straightened his posture, squaring her shoulders.

"look, i get that you don't like me, i get that i've made mistakes. but im here for y/n now. i'm not going anywhere no matter how much you scowl at me"

luca scoffed, stepping closer, "you think a few months of effort erases everything you've done? you don't deserve to be in her life"

"luca!" alessia's voice was sharp, but harrison didn't back down as her voice blended into the background.

"you think i don't know what i've done?" harrison shot back, his voice rising slightly. "you think i don't live with that every day? i'm not here to make things right with you or anyone else in the room, expect my daughter. that's it."

"your daughter?" gio crossed his arms, his face hard as he continued, "the one you walked out on the moment things got tough?"

"i've owned up to that," harrison snapped, his calm composure was cracking, fast. "and i'm doing everything i can to fix it. you don't have to like me, but you don't get to decide whether i'm in her life"

"what do you not get, you don't get to just show up and demand to be a dad!" lucas's voice was sharp, his frustration boiling over, "that little girl isn't just some box you can check off to feel better about yourself!"

harrison clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides, "i'm not trying to feel better about myself. i'm trying to be a father to my daughter and for what it's worth, alessia seems to understand that — something you two clearly don't."

"enough! stop it" alessia's voice raising as it cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. she stepped forward, placing herself between her brothers and harrison.

"mummy?" you voice was trembling as it broke through the shouting, small and wavering. your tiny hands gripping the bottom on alessia's jersey, her big blue eyes wide and shimmering with tears as she glanced between the adults.

harrison's anger drained instantly as his gaze dropped to his daughter opening his mouth to try and fix it as alessia shook her head for him to back down.

alessia immediately crouched down, pulling you into her arms, "baby, it's alright," she whispered, stroking the back of your hair. but your body was tense and your little fists balled up into alessia's jersey as you buried your face into your mummy's neck, desperately looking for any sort of comfort.

alessia turned to look for leah, leah being stood quietly by the door watching the mess unfold, shock slightly radiating on her face as well as a small pang of betrayal as alessia felt she couldn't tell her that you were coming to watch with your dad.

leah had heard the yelling from the corridor as she surged down still buzzing from the win but her smile quickly turned into a frown when she walked into the room.

"le, can you take lovie out. she shouldn't be seeing this.." alessia begged as you clung to your mummy, tears spilled from your small eyes.

leah nodding as she pushed herself off the wall, her heart arching at the sight of your confusion. alessia tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as she kissed your forehead whispering an 'i love you' before handing you over to leah.

leah shifted you so you rested comfortably on her hip, as she began to turn towards the door, she shot alessia a pointed look. leah's voice dropping to a murmur, "i told you this would happen when they found out."

alessia's jaw tightened, her frustration boiling over, "not now, leah" she snapped her voice sharp as she gritted her teeth together. leah left with you to calm you down as alessia turned to look at the boys who were still arguing.

"you fucking abandoned her, and abandoned that little girl. you don't deserve the right to waltz back into either of their lives like nothings happened.” luca spat back as harrison's jaw tightened as he kept quiet but his mind was definitely ticking away of what to say next.

"and you think showing up here unannounced is the way to do is?" gio added his arms crossed over his chest protectively.

"unannounced?" carol, interjected gently her gaze shifting to alessia, "did you.. know about this?"

all eyes turned to alessia who felt the weight of their stares pressing down on her, as she swallowed hard glancing briefly at harrison before nodding.

"i gave him the tickets," she admitted, "for lovie but i didn't tell anyone cause i didn't want to ruin the day for anyone."

"ruin today?" gio repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief at his sisters actions, "you ruined today the moment you gave him the tickets."

"you think i wanted to ruin today? i'm not here for you?" harrison snapped rising to his feet, his voice was low but sharp, his frame tense as he squared up to gio. "i'm here for my daughter!"

gio stepped forward too, his expression thunderous. "you don't get to act like the hero after disappearing for years. showing up doesn't erase what you did!"

"i never said it did!" harrison's voice rose again, his frustration starting to bubble over. taking another step forward towards gio, his chest puffed out. "but i'm not going to stand here and let you talk to me like i don't care about her. i'm trying to be better-"

"better?" luca barked out a harsh laugh as gio joined in before looking back at harrison with the same thunderous glare.

"alessia doesn't need you, y/n doesn't need you. you don't belong here, mate."

"that's not your call!" harrison shot back, his voice dangerously loud now. he took another step closer his fists clenched at his sides.

"gio stop!" alessia's voice rang out as she begged the two to stop, even now luca was trying to get gio to back down as he reached out to grab his shoulder but it was just shrugged off by the younger russo brother.

"you don't get to decide what's best for her," harrison continued, his voice trembling with restrained anger. "she's my daughter"

"don't you dare say that word like it means something to you." gio hissed stepping closer to harrison, his voice venomous. "you're nothing but a selfish coward who runs away when things get tough!"

harrison's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides, "say that again," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"i said, you're a coward," gio spat, his eyes blazing as he stowed even closer.

the words barely hung in the air before gio swung, his knuckles catching harrison square on the cheekbone which would definitely turn blue by the morning.

harrison staggering back as his expression snapped from shock to fury in a instant. and without hesitation he lunged forward his first slamming into gio's jaw with a satisfying crack.

"you want to say that again?" harrison snarled, his chest heaving as gio was the one to stumbled this time.

gio wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring daggers at harrison. "you think that scares me?" he hissed already moving towards him again.

"enough!" mario barked from across the room, but neither of them seemed to hear.

luca rushed forward, shoving harrison back hard enough to create some space, "seriously knock it off!

alessia took the chance to dart herself between them, he hands trembling as she pushed against harrison's chest. "stop it! both of you!" she pleaded, her voice breaking.

her plea was just loud enough to pierce through the tension, as harrison's fists slowly uncurled and gio rubbed his jaw breathing heavily as he halted st him.

alessia turned to her dad, her face flushed and tight with anger, "they're done," she said firmly, her voice trembling with finality as she glanced between them, "aren't you?"

gio muttered something under his breath turning away while harrison stood rigid. the fire in his eyes gradually dimming. but alessia didn't move, staying firmly in place until both men retreated.

"this isn't helping anyone, and i'm not letting, either of you turn this into a war zone-" alessia shouted her voice firm as both boys hands were red with fury and there faces right with frustration.

"i'm not trying to fight, i just want to be there for my daughter" harrison squeaked out his voice low and strained.

“you don't deserve to be here for her!" gio fired back, but alessia spun on him, her eyes blazing with fury.

"gio! enough!" she snapped. "you don't get to decide that. i do. and i've made my decision."

"less-," gio started, but alessia cut him off with a glare.

"no, gio." she said fiercely. "this isn't about you and what you think. this is about lovie. and right now she's down the hallway terrified because of you two"

the silence that followed from alessia's words was deafening and her words must have hit a soft spot as both boys retreated form where they were, moving to be at the side of the room as alessia stayed stood in the middle of the chaos.

"less, we're just trying to look out for you," luca began his voice was calm as he tried to justify his and his brothers actions. "you know we're only trying to protect you and tiny-,"

"protect me?" alessia spun around, her voice sharp and trembling with emotion as her eyes blazed as she stared down her brother. "you think this is protecting me? scaring my daughter? making her cry? how is that helping anyone?"

"less, come on," luca interjected, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "we didn't mean for it to get like this. we just don't trust him, and—"

"and that gives you the right to pick a fight in front of her?" alessia cut him off, her voice rising, her hands clenched at her sides. "she's four, luca! she doesn't understand why her uncles are yelling at her dad. do you have any idea what this is going to do to her?"

"alessia—" gio tried, but she held up a hand, silencing him.

"no, gio. you've done enough damage." she snapped, "all you've done is make everything worse!"

both russo brothers looked visibly chastened, their gazes dropping to the floor. carol stepped forward, her face pale. "alessia, sweetheart, maybe we should all take a moment to cool off—"

"i don't have a moment," alessia said, her voice breaking slightly. "my daughter is crying in the hallway because of all this. i need to go sort out the mess, they've made."

without waiting for a response having heard enough from them, alessia turned on her heel and left the room, her chest heaving as she tried to collect herself.

—

alessia finally found leah after having to take a few minutes herself to let out a shaky sigh. leah was sitting on a bench near the locker room. you cradled in her lap.

your face buried in leah's neck, as your body still trembled slightly from time to time as small hiccups left you. leah's hand rubbing gentle circles on your back as she whispered low and soothing reassurances.

"hey" alessia said softly as she approached the two, her heart breaking at the sight of you being so upset. her body filling with so much mum guilt.

leah glanced up, her expression a mixture of concern and lingering frustration as she shifted you slightly so that alessia could take over. "she's a bit shaken up," leah murmured standing as alessia crouched in front of the two of them.

"thank you" alessia said quietly, her voice filled with genuine emotion as leah nodded lingering for a moment before stepping back to give some space.

"lovie, baby" your mummy whispered, reaching out so gently to stoke the hair out your face as your were sat curled up with your knees to your chest. "it's okay, mummy's here now."

you sniffed, finally lifting your head up out of your knees to look at your mum. your face was red and tear-streaked as your lips trembled. "why was uncle gio and luca so mad at daddy?" you asked so innocently, your voice a little raspy from crying.

alessia's chest tightened, pulling you into her arms holding you tightly as the two of you sat on the floor. alessia's back hitting the bench behind her.

"oh my love" she murmured. "sometimes grown-ups say things they shouldn't when they are upset. but that doesn't mean they don't love you, okay? uncle luca and gio love you very much. they just.. got carried away and shouldn't have acted like that, especially when you were there."

you rubbed your eyes with your fists, your voice trembling as you asked, "am i not going to see daddy again?"

the question hit alessia like a punch to the gut. she pulled back slightly, her hands gently cradling your face as she looked into your wide worried eyes.

"oh baby no," she said firmly, her voice soft but resolute. "that's not going to happen, you'll be able to see your dad again, i promise."

"bu-but uncle gio said he shouldn't be here," you whispered, your tears starting to build up again, "d-does that mean he has to go away?"

alessia swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump in her throat that was building from your worries as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

"no, baby," your mummy assured you, "uncle gio only said that as he's worried about mummy, not because he doesn't want you to see your daddy. and daddy won't be going anywhere - you'll still get to spend time with him."

"really?" you asked, you voice trembling with hope.

"really" alessia promised as she pulled you into another hug, "you and your dad are creating a special bond and no one is going to take that away from you. not uncle luca, not uncle gio, not anyone."

your small arms tightened around alessia's neck, "i don't want you and daddy to fight" you murmured.

alessia's heart ached at the simple plea, "we aren't going to fight, my love." she said softly, "sometimes grown ups make mistakes, but i promise i'll do everything i can to make sure you don't see that again."

you nodded against your mummy's shoulder, you little fingers clutching the fabric of alessia's hoodie. "okay," you whispered.

leah, who had been standing a few steps away, finally stepped forward again, her expression tender, "hey angel" she said softly, crouching down next to alessia and your level.

"how about we go and get some ice cream? i think we all need a treat after today, huh?"

you lifted you head, your tears starting-streaked face slightly lighting up, "pink one with sprinkles?"

leah smiled, brushing a stray hair from your cheek, "the biggest pink one with loads of sprinkles, as many as you want!"

alessia pressed a kiss to your temple, grateful for leah's presence in that moment. "what do you think, baby? wanna go get some ice cream with lele and mummy?"

you nodded, a faint smile creeping onto your face. alessia stood, holding you close as leah placed a comforting hand on alessia's back.

as they started to pack away there belongings from the changing room, everyone else left seamlessly a good hour ago. a quick redo of your hair and the three of you were ready to go.

as they walked out from the changing room, alessia whispered softly to you, "everything's going to be okay, lovie. i promise."

the three of you only a mere metre from the exit, alessia with her backpack slung on her shoulder and your little one which had left with you this morning when harrison came to get you in her hand as you held the other tightly.

leah chatting and lightening the mood by asking you about your imaginative ice cream order. small gasps and giggles leaving leah's lips.

"can you take lovie?" alessia asked as you held tightly onto your mummy's hand, leah nodding her brow furrowing as to why though. "i'll meet you at my car in five, i have one more thing i have to do before ice cream time!"

alessia's head nodded towards the room where her brother's and harrison were still in, stood in silence mainly giving each other dirty looks. leah nodded smiling as she began to walk out the exit door, continuing to ask you what flavour ice cream you were going to get on this big ice cream you'd made up.

walking into the room the tension was thick — heavier than any moment alessia had ever witnessed between her family and harrison.

it felt like the room was on edge of something much worse than what had already happened. the harsh words, the mistrust, the frustration.

stood looking between the her brothers as gio rested an ice pack on his jaw while harrison rested one on his cheek — the swelling on both of them starting to show slightly.

alessia's arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face a mask of calm resolve but the storm brewing inside her was undeniable.

her brothers stood across from harrison their expressions full of disdain ready for another attack. as for harrison, for his part was still stiff and defensive, clearly feeling the weight of alessia's family's anger but trying to hold his ground.

her gaze locked firmly on her brothers and harrison, as gio opened his mouth to say something, maybe apologise or maybe to carry on the screaming match but you'd never know as before he even had a chance alessia cut him off.

"zip it, you've said quite enough today," she said, her tone sharp and unwavering, "and that goes for all three of you" she added pointing to the three boys before turning her gaze to her brothers.

"you two have crossed the line today. so i'll make it clear, again. in my life, my daughter or my choices are mine to decide — neither of you get to tell me how to handle it. especially when it comes to my daughter."

luca opened his mouth to argue but alessia raised her hand stopping him dead in his tracks, "shut it." she said her voice a low growl that sent a clear message.

"i don't want to hear another peep. not from you, not from you" she pointed to gio who was about to say something too, "or from you" pointing over at harrison.

the room fell healthy silent all them staring at her stunned in disbelief. alessia took a slow, steady breath collecting her thoughts for a moment.

"i get it," she said her voice now steady but there was a fire in her eyes that couldn't be ignored. "you're angry. you're protective. you're all trying to act like the hero and protect me and love. but trust me, i don't need any of you trying to believe you know what's best for me. i've been doing this on my own and i'll continue it that way. and that includes harrison — whether you two like it or not."

she looked directly at harrison, then back to her brothers her eyes fierce with strength she'd been holding back all this time. "i can make my own choices on who's in my daughters life. and if i decide harrison deserves a chance then that's my decision. not yours."

gio's fists clenched as he moved his head as if he were about to say something else but alessia was already ahead of him, again.

"don't you dare," she warned him, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "don't you even think about interrupting me."

her brothers stood there, tight lipped, completely taken aback by the intensity in alessia's voice and the authority in her words.

harrison meanwhile, stood still, ice pack still held to h the side of his face, unsure of what to say, but realised the trust of it all. this wasn't the time for his defence — he had to let alessia take charge.

alessia stepped back, giving them all one last piercing look, "i'm done here. so if you have a scuffle you want to continue, then do it once me, my daughter and my girlfriend are out this building. do not ever bring that type of behaviour around my daughter again, or you'll live to regret it."

the finality in her words echoed through the room. without another word, alessia turned on her heel. her heart pouring as she walked toward the door, he back straight and shoulders square.

she didn't wait for anyone's reaction - this was her moment and she wasn't backing down to any of them. they all had a lot of grovelling to do.

as she reached for the door, she glanced over her shoulder one last time, "bye!" she said coldly, her voice unwavering. "i'll be with my family, where i belong. don't try and talk to me until you've figure out how to respect my choices."

the silence that followed her leaving the room was deafening. luca, gio and harrison all left standing there, two with ice packs held to their faces as the weight of the blondes words sunk in.

but alessia wasn't looking back anymore, she was done trying to explain and make them see things her way. she had made her choice — you, leah and herself came first.

359 notes · View notes

secretmaniacc · 2 days ago

Text

FILL THE VOID

Pairings: the salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: After avoiding him for two days, she finds herself pinned down as he insists they go out to dinner, just as he promised in their bet. Reluctantly agreeing, she anticipates an elegant evening, but the night quickly takes an exciting and dangerous turn.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, Dom!salesman x baddie!oc, teasing, degrading, kissing, gun play, Russian roulette, knife play, semi public sex, hair pulling, mentions of blood, oral sex, male recieving, p in v, rough sex, spanking.

Wc: 6.2k

A/n: so sorry for the wait here’s pt.2 for “ride or die” since some of y’all liked it and I’m very happy for that, did some justice this time and spiced it up they can be out of character sometime so forgive me, hope y’all will enjoy it really worked hard on this one, not proofread <3

For two days, she’d managed to avoid him—strategically timing her office hours to when he wasn’t there, ignoring his messages, and pretending not to notice the way he seemed to linger just out of reach. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up with her.

That time came at the end of a long day when she thought she was safe. She gathered her things and prepared to turn around and head towards the door, only to feel a familiar presence.

“Thought you could avoid me forever?” His voice was low, smooth, and infuriatingly smug.

Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag as she turned, schooling her features into something calm and unaffected. “I’m busy. Move.”

He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Busy ignoring me? Impressive effort, but I don’t take silence well.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” she lied, stepping forward to brush past him.

His arm shot out, blocking her path. “Really? Then why haven’t you answered my messages? Or were you too busy pondering about how much fun we had in the alley?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she shot back, her tone clipped as she tried to push past him again.

But this time, he shifted, moving to block her entirely and locking the door with a quick twist of his wrist. The faint click of the lock sent a chill down her spine, though she refused to show it.

“Let me go,” she said, keeping her voice steady even as she felt her pulse quicken.

He leaned back against the door, his arms crossed lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. “Not until we settle something.”

She arched a brow, masking her unease with irritation. “And what’s so important that you’re resorting to theatrics?”

His grin widened, his gaze sparkling with that insufferable confidence. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to take you to dinner, didn’t I? Unless, of course, you’d rather recall how I made you feel so good in the alley.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the reminder. “That was two days ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters to me.” He stepped closer, the teasing edge in his voice making her heart stutter. “You won, fair and square. So, dinner. Tonight.”

“Not happening,” she said firmly, though the conviction in her voice wavered slightly.

He tilted his head, studying her with mock curiosity. “Why so stubborn? Afraid you’ll enjoy it?”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m just not interested.”

“You’re lying.”

She glared at him, determined not to let him see how her resolve faltered under the weight of his gaze. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding the truth,” he countered, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between them. “But that’s fine. Say no if you want—I’ll still show up outside your door.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, though the uncertainty in her voice made her doubt her own words.

“Try me,” he challenged, his tone light but his intent clear.

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly in defeat. “Fine. One dinner. But don’t make a habit of this.”

His grin broadened, a glimmer of triumph lighting up his face. “Perfect. Wear something elegant—something that’ll fit the place. I expect you’ll be just as stunning as you were in the alley”

“Excuse me?”

He ignored her indignation, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost against her cheek. His lips brushed lightly against her skin, leaving behind the faintest trace of warmth. “See you tonight,” he murmured before stepping aside and unlocking the door.

She stared at him, momentarily thrown by the unexpected gesture. The smug look on his face only made her irritation flare, and she pushed past him with a sharp, “Don’t be late.”

As she walked away, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation. But the faint smile tugging at her lips told a different story.

-----

She stood before the full-length mirror, the soft glow of her bedroom light catching the gentle shimmer of her crimson dress. The bodice hugged her figure like it was made for her, the delicate cowl neckline draping gracefully across her collarbones, while the fabric flowed into a silky skirt that brushed the floor with every subtle movement. Her long, black hair fell in effortless curls to her waist, framing her face with a touch of timeless elegance. A sheer wrap rested loosely on her arms, adding a layer of ethereal softness that seemed to dance with every step.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down to see his text: "I’ll be there in five." Letting out a small breath, she grabbed her purse, gave herself one last look, and headed downstairs.

The evening air was cool as she stepped outside, heels clicking softly against the pavement. There he was, leaning casually against a sleek black Audi A6, its polished exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He wore a tailored black suit that framed his tall, broad figure perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt and a black tie that added a sharp elegance to his appearance. His dark hair was neatly styled, though a rebellious strand fell over his forehead, softening his otherwise sharp features.

As she approached, his gaze locked on her, a flicker of admiration crossing his face before he straightened and stepped toward her. Without a word, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet sincere, his eyes holding hers for just a moment longer than necessary.

A faint blush warmed her cheeks, but she managed a small, teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

His lips twitched into a smirk as he opened the passenger door for her, gesturing for her to step inside.

She settled into the plush leather seat, the soft scent of new car and faint cologne filling the space. The interior was sleek, with polished silver accents and an impressive digital dashboard glowing faintly in the dim light. She trailed her fingers over the armrest, the comfort and luxury surprising her.

“You own this?” she asked, glancing at him as he slipped into the driver’s seat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel.

He chuckled softly. “Why? Did you think I’d show up in something less fitting?”

She shook her head, amused but still impressed, as they drove in silence toward their destination. He would make teasing comments here and there that earned a chuckle from her.

The car pulled up to one of the most elegant restaurants in town, its grand facade glowing with soft golden lights. Outside, a long line of patrons waited eagerly, some dressed to the nines, chatting in anticipation.

Her brows lifted in surprise at the sight. “You didn’t mention this place,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity.

Before he could respond, two security guards stepped forward, opening her door with practiced precision. One took the keys from him while the other escorted them toward the entrance. She noticed how the murmuring crowd shifted, heads turning as they walked past.

The guards held the doors open as they entered, bowing slightly in his direction. She bowed back out of respect, but he merely did, wrapping his arm around her waist as they stepped into the opulent dining area.

The restaurant was stunning. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in crisp white linens. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city skyline, and a soft melody from a grand piano filled the air with an elegant ambiance.

They were guided to a private table near the window, the staff pulling out her chair as she sat. As he took his seat across from her, she leaned in slightly, her tone playful.

“Care to explain why everyone is treating you like you’re some mafia boss?”

He chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. “Let’s just say I know how to make an impression.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “Oh, I’m sure you do.”

The waitress approached with a professional yet warm smile, handing them menus. “Welcome. May I offer you something to start with?”

She glanced at the menu, the luxurious options catching her off guard. “Are there any prices on this thing, or do we just guess?” she quipped, arching an eyebrow at him.

He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, dinner’s on me. Feel free to splurge.”

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Good, because I was planning to order the most expensive thing just to annoy you.”

“Be my guest,” he replied smoothly, his grin teasing. “But I hope you know that means dessert is non-negotiable.”

her eyes scanning the intricate names of dishes written in french. Brows furrowed, she tilted the menu closer as if the words would magically make sense the second time around.

“What is... uh, rat-a-tou-ille??” she sounded out slowly, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity.

His lips curved into an amused smile. “Ratatouille. It’s a vegetable dish—stewed with tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and herbs. Simple but classic..”

“Oh, okay. That doesn’t sound too bad,” she nodded before her eyes caught another word. “And this one? Coq... au vin??”

“Coq au vin” he corrected with a small laugh. “Chicken braised in red wine with mushrooms and bacon. Very traditional.”.”

She tapped her chin with her finger, pretending to consider it seriously, then moved on to another dish. “Bou-ya... bouillabaisse?”

“Bouillabaisse,” he supplied smoothly. “.It’s a fish stew with a mix of seafood, Want me to keep translating, or are you planning to make me read the whole menu for you?”

She shot him a playful glare. “Hey, these names are intimidating, okay? I didn’t grow up speaking fluent…. Uh, whatever this is."

“french” he said, unable to suppress the laugh that bubbled out. “I have to admit, though, this clueless act of yours is kind of adorable.”

She rolled her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks. “Whatever. I’ll just stick to this one.” She pointed to a dish she didn’t recognize but liked the sound of.

When he glanced at his menu filled with prices unlike hers, his smirk grew wider. “Interesting choice,” he mused, leaning back in his chair.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh. “Just that it’s the cheapest thing on the menu.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, still grinning. “Repick. Or I’ll do it for you.”

She groaned, flipping through the menu again. “Fine. You pick.”

He didn’t even look at her menu, already knowing it by heart. “Filet de boeuf Rossini,” he said confidently.

Her eyes widened slightly. “That sounds... fancy.”

“It’s perfect,” he replied with a wink. “Trust me.”

The waitress returned, taking his order for a sole meunière and hers for the beef Rossini. “And a bottle of Château d’Yquem,” he added casually.

When the waitress nodded and walked away, she raised an eyebrow. “Château d’Yquem? What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically.

Moments later, the waitress returned with a sleek silver ice bucket, placing it on the table with a bottle of golden wine nestled inside. The light caught the liquid, making it shimmer, and her eyes widened as realization hit.

“This is wine?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.

“Not just any wine,” he said, pouring a glass with practiced ease. “It’s... exclusive.”

“How exclusive?” she pressed.

He took a slow sip, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re drinking liquid gold?”

He laughed at her incredulous expression, his voice rich with amusement. “Relax. Tonight’s on me, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” he replied with a wink, setting his glass down.

Silence evoked as the air in the restaurant shimmered with quiet luxury, a symphony of muted chatter, piano tunes and crystal clinks filling the room. She leaned back against the chair, her delicate fingers tracing absent patterns on the edge of the table. Her gaze flickered toward the expansive window, the city lights sprawling like a living canvas. There was an effortless grace to her, the way her crimson dress caught the glow of the chandeliers, the silk shifting like liquid fire with her every move.

He couldn’t look away.

His pupils sharpened with intensity as he studied her, the soft curve of her jawline, the way her lips parted slightly as she sighed in quiet awe. Her black hair, cascading in soft curls to her waist, gleamed under the golden light. She was a vision, suspended somewhere between elegance and rebellion, her beauty a contradiction he couldn’t quite define but didn’t want to stop trying to.

She tilted her head, her profile catching the faint light of the chandelier, and his breath hitched. As he took a sip of his whiskey, the taste burned less than the thought that this moment—her, here, now—felt like something he shouldn’t deserve.

He smirked at himself, shaking his head slightly. Get a grip.

But then she glanced back at him, catching his stare, her brow arching in question. “What?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Nothing,” he replied, his smirk deepening as he set his glass down. “Just taking it all in.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the slight tug of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Moments later their food arrived, the rich aroma wafting from her plate made her mouth water. She picked up her fork, taking a cautious bite. The moment the tender beef hit her taste buds, her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft hum of delight escaped her lips.

“This is... amazing,” she said, already diving in for another bite.

He watched her, captivated by the way she was completely absorbed in her food. Every little sound she made—those happy, involuntary noises—pulled his attention. For a moment, the bustling restaurant around them disappeared, leaving only her.

“You’re staring, again.” she said suddenly, snapping him out of his daze.

“You make it hard not to,” he admitted with a small smile.

She flushed, quickly taking another bite. “Just eat your food, so we can get done” she muttered.

He chuckled, cutting into his fish. They settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging light banter between bites. At one point, she attempted to spear a piece of his fish with her fork, but he caught her wrist with a grin.

“Ah, ah. That’s mine,” he teased.

“Sharing is caring,” she retorted, but he held firm, playfully shaking his head.

He shook his head with exaggerated defiance, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “You want it that bad? Beg for it.”

She narrowed her eyes, “‘Never mind,’” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she went back to eat.

He chuckled, leaning closer. “Come on, don’t act like you didn’t do it.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” she said, standing up abruptly and grabbing her bag.

He burst into laughter, his gaze never leaving her. “I’m messing with you,” he said, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her back into the chair.

She shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love it,” he replied, giving her an amused smirk.

She sighed, reaching for her glass of water. As her gaze drifted across the room, it landed on a couple at a nearby table—so engrossed in each other they might as well have been the only two people in the restaurant. The man’s hand rested on the small of the woman’s back, and their faces were inches apart, whispering between soft kisses.

Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Get a room,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

He followed her line of sight, his brow arching before a low chuckle escaped his lips. “Jealous?”

She snapped her head back to him, her eyes narrowing. “Jealous? Please. That’s gross. There’s a time and place for that sort of thing, and it’s not next to someone trying to enjoy a meal.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying her reaction. “You’re awfully opinionated for someone who didn’t seem to mind when I kissed you.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly. “That was different!”

“Oh, was it?” he teased, his tone playfully smug. “Because if I recall, you were the one leaning in first.”

Her jaw dropped. “I was not! You were the one who couldn’t keep it together and kissed me like some—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Someone who’s not afraid to take a chance?”

She glared at him, struggling to find a comeback that wouldn’t dig her deeper into the hole. “You’re crazy,” she finally huffed, crossing her arms again.

“not as much as you,” he replied, his smirk softening just enough to make her annoyed

The unspoken tension hung like a storm cloud between them, unshakably present as they lingered in that charged moment. “Are you actually saying you wish you were that couple?” he asked, leaning in with a seriousness that made her heart constrict.

Her heart raced at his words, a flutter of uncertainty and curiosity mixing with annoyance. “I just think PDA is a bit much!” she shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “I mean, can’t people keep it to themselves?”

“Really?” he challenged, his voice low, brushing against her ear as he leaned closer. “Or maybe you’re just afraid of what it could feel like to let loose, to feel something real for once?”

Her breath caught in her throat as a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shot back, a desperate edge in her voice. She could feel the tension weave between them like a live wire, crackling with possibility.

“Maybe I do,” he replied, that daring glint in his eye making her pulse quicken. “Maybe you just need the right moment to let go.”

The couple at the table nearby erupted in laughter again, and she found herself glancing back at them, trying to refocus. But when she looked up, he was watching her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “Forget them,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, pulling her even further into his orbit. “What do you want? Something real? Or more of this… competition?”

Before she could formulate a response, he suddenly stood, extending a hand toward her. “Come with me.”

“Where?” she asked, hesitating but feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought of doing something entirely unexpected.

“A place where we can talk,” he replied, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “Unless you’re too scared to follow.”

With her heart racing and her mind swirling with uncertainty, she placed her hand in his. He led her through the restaurant’s bustling dining area, weaving through startled diners and busy waitstaff. But there was no turning back. The thrill of being drawn into the unknown ignited something within her.

They approached a door at the back of the restaurant, and she felt both exhilarated and apprehensive. He flung it open, and they stepped into a dimly lit hallway lined with fancy doors that seemed to whisper secrets.

“Seriously, where are we?” she asked, blinking in the low light as confusion mixed with an adrenaline high.

“Somewhere more private,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous, eyes flickering with mischief and something deeper. “We won’t be interrupted here.”

Her pulse raced, excitement and fear coiling in her stomach. “Is this your idea of romance?” she shot back, the challenge lacing her voice, even as heat coursed through her.

“Maybe it’s just my idea of taking risks,” he countered, stepping closer, the space between them charged in a way that made her skin tingle. “You might even enjoy it.”

The energy shifted as they stood beneath the dim glow of the overhead light, their breaths mingling in the tight space. She caught herself wanting to feel the weight of his words, the electricity in the air. “What if someone catches?” she asked, half playful and half serious, but the way he was looking at her made her thrill with curiosity.

“Let them,” he said, eyes smouldering, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between them. “Are you really going to back down now?”

She felt a rush of defiance surge within her, mixed with undeniable attraction. “I’m not afraid,” she said boldly, but her voice wavered slightly, betraying the thrill and lust she was trying to suppress.

“Then let’s find out how dangerous this might get,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, igniting the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

With that, he turned on his heel, pulling her deeper into the hall, and she felt her heart pounding with excitement and uncertainty. Each step into the unknown only drew them closer together, and she couldn't shake the thrill of what lay ahead—the thrilling uncertainty,

He paused in front of an ornate door that looked far more expensive than the rest, its golden handle glinting in the dim light. With a knowing smirk, he pushed it open, and she was met with an intoxicating scent—rich cologne mingling with something deeper, something intimate that tugged at her senses.

As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The room was lavishly decorated, a blend of modern luxury and classic elegance. An oversized leather couch sat in the center along with a table, surrounded by walls adorned with vibrant artwork that seemed to pull her in. Warm lights cast a cozy glow, and a plush rug covered the floor, offering a sense of comfort veiled in sultriness.

“wow,” she breathed, taking in the opulence, momentarily forgetting the tension simmering between them.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, gesturing toward the couch. She hesitated for only a moment before obeying, settling into the soft fabric while he moved around the room, his gaze scanning various items scattered about—a vintage record player, a collection of intriguing books, and an array of exotic liquor bottles.

Stopping at a sleek display cabinet, he opened the door and pulled out a pistol, its silver surface gleaming in the warm light. A grin played across his lips as he turned to face her, an unsettling excitement dancing in his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Russian roulette.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you serious?”

“Relax.” He waved his hand dismissively, the light glinting off the barrel. “Only this time, we’re playing with a twist. There’s only one bullet, and each time the gun goes off, we have to strip a piece of clothing.”

A mix of thrill and apprehension surged through her. “That’s insane.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his smirk deepening, “but wouldn’t it be fun?”

With a defiant spark in her eyes, she leaned forward. “Fine, let’s play.”

He sat across from her, the couch sinking slightly under his weight, and loaded the bullet into the chamber with a casualness that both intrigued and unnerved her. He spun the cylinder and brought the gun to his temple, pulling the trigger—click. He laughed, a dark sound that echoed in the room,

“Not so scary, right?” he teased, loosening his suit jacket. With a fluid motion, revealing a fitted dress shirt that clung to his frame, accentuating the muscular definition of his arms and shoulders. The sight made her pulse quicken

“Your turn.” He passed the gun to her.

She arched an eyebrow but took the gun, feeling its weight in her hand. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. She spun the cylinder herself, heart racing, and then pressed it to her temple. Click. A rush of relief washed over her.

“Now it’s time to shed that scarf,” he said with a teasing tone. With a quick, decisive movement, she untied the delicate fabric and let it fall to the floor, feeling freer, more emboldened.

“Here you go,” she responded, tossing the gun back to him. The tension was tangible as he caught it effortlessly.

filled with a languid confidence. “Ready?” He pressed the barrel once more to his temple—click. The sound rang through the air like a taunt, a challenge freighted with electricity.

“Lucky again,” he grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“What’s next? Your shirt?” she quipped, eager to see how far this would go.

His gaze flicked to her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he loosens the tie taking it off, before he began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt. With each button undone, the cloth pulled away to reveal the chiselled muscles of his torso, the defined lines and curves making her breathless. He threw the shirt aside, letting it flutter to the ground like a fallen banner of surrender.

She couldn’t help but take in the sight, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. she breathed, both impressed and challenged by the game they were playing.

“Like what you see? Now it’s your turn,” he teased, giving her the gun once more, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

She took the gun, spun the cylinder yet again, and pressed it against her temple—click. Relief flooded her, but the tension was palpable.

“Let’s play it safe,” she decided, slipping off her heels and leaving her feet bare on the plush rug beneath her. The contact with the soft Fibers felt grounding after the intensity of the game.

“Back to me,” he said, taking the gun from her hands once more. He spun the cylinder, glancing at her with that effortless chill. “Here we go.”

With a languid movement, he pressed the cold metal against his own temple, a shrug of confidence reflecting in his posture. He squeezed the trigger—click. The sound reverberated, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

She felt a small knot of apprehension twist in her stomach. Could they keep going like this? The stakes were rising, and she felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

He turned to her, offering her the gun again. “Your turn. Only two triggers are left, make sure not to die.”

With a mixture of determination and nerve, she accepted the gun from him. Her heart raced as she spun the cylinder for what felt like the hundredth time.

He stood to remove his shoes, casually tossing them to the side. That simple act ignited something within her, a thrilling edge of power and vulnerability. Just as he prepared to sit down, she lunged forward with a sudden burst of resolve.

With a swift motion, she pinned him against the couch, the gun now aimed firmly at his chest.

"What’s the matter?" he teased, the laughter in his eyes shifting to something darker. “Afraid you will die?”

“Not a chance,” she challenged, taking a seat on his lap, her pulse racing. In a moment of reckless defiance, she kept the gun pointed at him. “You think this is a game?”

He laughed, a wild, psychotic sound that echoed against the walls. his hands resting firmly on her waist, the gun now pressed against his chest as he leaned in closer. “I love it when you take charge.”

“You’re going to regret underestimating me,” she said, catching a glimpse of the wild delight dancing in his eyes.

“so it’s Game over for me?” he taunted, his words dripping with boldness. His hands slowly wandered to her thighs, fingers teasing, sending pulses of electricity coursing through her. “Shame, really. I’d hate to die without pleasuring you.”

Her breath hitched at his insinuation, his cocky demeanour igniting an uncontrollable fire within her. The tension crackled like static in the air, urging her to respond.

“You wish.” she said, her voice wavering slightly with the rush of emotions surging through her.

With a fury of need and desire, she leaned in and captured his lips in a fervent kiss, their mouths colliding in an explosion of pent-up frustration and attraction. The world around them melted away as her heart raced. The moment was electric, and in the whirlwind of passion, she pulled the trigger.

But all that followed was a click.

The sound ricocheted in the silence between them, and her eyes widened in shock as she pulled away. The thrill morphed into a dizzying rush as realization struck—there had been no bullet, no fatal ending, only the raw, intoxicating energy swirling in the air between them.

That's when he took the gun from her hands, his movements quick and decisive, a spark of defiance in his eyes. With a swift motion, he tossed it across the room, the gun landing with a loud thud against the wall.

“If you wanted my tongue against you, then you’ve fucking earned it,” he spat, crashing their lips together in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging tightly, igniting a low groan that reverberated into her mouth.

"You wanted to fucking kill me, sweetheart," he growled, biting her bottom lip, eliciting a sharp whimper from her.

“It was your game,” she countered, the adrenaline pulsing through her like fire.

“And yet,” he replied, his voice dark and sultry, “I’d never kill you.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She pulled back, a smirk curving her lips as her eyes roamed over his swollen lips and messy hair, an enticing sight.

“So, why did you aim that gun at me? Say it.”

“Because I was too damn scared, you’d do it instead of me,” she admitted, feeling his grip on her loosen slightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to make a scene,” he murmured, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt with confidence.

“Kneel,” he demanded, helping her rise before guiding her down so she knelt on the floor, her dress cascading around her like a waterfall.

“You want to act like a little slut? Then suck until your mouth isn’t filthy,” he spat, and she flashed him a smirk as she slid his pants down, revealing his hard on.

Her hand wrapped around the base of him, moving up and down slowly, the rhythm sending soft growls of pleasure from his lips. As she continued pumping back and forth, in a rhythmic pattern the more he strived for her lips.

“Did you not hear me? I said suck,” he snapped, frustration threading through his tone.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You call me a slut yet can’t wait a moment longer?” With a teasing glimmer in her eyes, she leaned forward, taking his tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it while maintaining a steady rhythm with her hand. His breath hitched, a bead of sweat forming on his chest as he succumbed to the jolting pleasure.

Without warning he bunched her hair up in his fist and pushed his tip to the back of her throat, thrusting himself deeper into her mouth until she gagged. The sight of her watering eyes only seemed to rile him up.

“Look how fucking beautiful you are, my darling. Take all of me, just like the good whore you are," he breathed, pleasure dripping from his words.

Her eyes glistened with tears. and he watched her head bob back and forth.

"fuck I'm going to—" he gasped, releasing her head and pulling back slightly. But before he could finish himself off, she caught his hand, her determination surging, and continued, letting the warm liquid hit the back of her throat while he moaned, curses spilling from his lips until he finished.

He fixed his gaze on her as she swallowed every drop, wiping her bottom lip clean with a satisfied smile. “You’re not finishing with me down here,” she challenged, cheeky confidence returning.

“Insanity suits you,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand to help her rise. “Now let’s see just how wet you are for me.”

He led her to the table, and a surge of vulnerability washed over her as he slammed her against it giving him full access to her clit, while her stomach pressed against the polished wood. His hands roamed the insides of her thighs, and she softly moans as he moved her lace underwear to the side, his fingers brushing against her trembling skin

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back, connecting their lips once more, sucking on her bottom lip. After He released her hair, his hand quickly found her clit, eliciting a moan that was both pleasure and pain.

“Make a scene, sweetheart. Let everyone hear how much you enjoy this," he seethed, delivering a sharp smack that made her gasp, her stomach hitting the table harder.

As he moved her dress out of the way, he slowly removed her thong. Her grip tightened on the table's edges, anticipation thrumming in her veins. But just as she exhaled, he pressed a blade to her neck, drawing a gasp from her lips as he grabbed another fistful of hair to pull her back.

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg to finish, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But this is on my terms. Move too much, and your blood will splatter.” She nodded slowly, and without warning he pushed himself inside of her.

She gasped, feeling every inch of him stretching her, she felt his eyes darken with lust as he fucked her against the table. Each powerful thrust accompanied by the sound of the table squeaking beneath her, the blade scratched at her skin making her hiss at the foreign pain of the knife grazing her neck.

“you like that? hmm” he asked, delight etched in his expression.

“I do. It hurts," she admitted, breathless.

“Tell me to stop,”

But the words caught in her throat, her senses overwhelmed as the blade pressed deeper, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes back in pleasure.

“ But that's the thing, you like that huh? You don't have to hide what you truly want. I know you like this blade at your neck. Watch how good you take my dick slut" he groaned into her ear picking up the pace and she could already feel herself coming close to finishing.

A few more cuts on her neck and he flipped her over, her back colliding with the table, the sharp contrast of sensations sending goosebumps over her skin.

He poured his focus on the cuts, pressing kisses over the crimson marks as the metallic taste lingered in the air. The euphoric mix of pain and pleasure sent her into a frenzy, her nails digging into his bare back as he slipped himself back inside of her her.

“You won’t be the only one leaving this room marked,” she moaned in between their kisses. Both of them cursing and filling the room with the sound of their pleasure.

Their bodies moved in sync, letting the euphoria continue and their pace become sloppy. a dangerous dance of desire and desperation, the air thick with their shared moans and whispered curses.

“I’m gonna—"

“Not yet,” he interrupted, the tension in his voice low and commanding.

“I can't—” she yelped when he stopped, a sharp smack to her ass, only hard enough to sting.

“You can, and you will,” he grunted, slamming into her again, her hips bucking against him as he threw her leg onto his shoulder, pushing deeper. His penetrating gaze bore into her, making sure she didn’t disobey.

“Beg if you wanna finish.”

“Please,” she pleaded, breathless urgency coloring her voice.

“You're mine. Never forget that. Got it?" he growled. She hummed in agreement.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Cum for me. Be a good girl,” he murmured, and she quickly became undone. After a couple more strokes he finished after, his head rolling back in delight.

Her legs quivering and the short circuit of her brain stopping for just a moment. It was almost as if her body was made to be with him alone, each pulse and surge a beautiful convergence of pleasure and pain.

He tucked himself back before effortlessly lifting her off the table. Her feet barely touched the floor before her legs wobbled beneath her, struggling to support her weight.

"I can’t walk," she muttered, clutching the edge of the table for support, the remnants of their passion still buzzing in her veins.

"What was that?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"You heard me. Shut up and help me stand up," she sneered, irritation mingling with the lingering satisfaction in her tone.

He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright. "Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice low and steady. With gentle firmness, he helped her regain her footing, guiding her away from the table as she leaned into him.

They took a few tentative steps, and he chuckled again, the sound warm against her ear. "You really know how to make things interesting."

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, though a smile betrayed her annoyance. “You’re lucky I’m even standing,” she added with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Lucky? I was thinking of round two,” he shot back with a grin, winking at her as they made their way towards the couch. Unaware of long night they’re about to witness.

part 1

#squid game #squid game smut #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game salesman #the salesman #the salesman x reader #salesman smut #gong yoo x reader #gong yoo #be nice #intimate #smut #i’ll cry

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bamguetismee · 2 days ago

Text

Phantom Pursuit- YJW

Jungwon is cocky, confident, and easily one of the most skilled world class spies in the world. Nothing seems to bother him and his impulse is his most deadliest weapon. His partner was skilled, capable, and detail oriented- aka you. Something big goes down on an unassuming mission. But little did you know this one mission could change the fate of the world as you knew it.

PAIRING: — Spy Jungwon ✩ Spy reader (f)

GENRE: fluff, she’s angsty TT, slow burn, spy au

WARNINGS: making out, petnames, skinship, slow burn, I hate to say but there is angst, mentions of alcohol, guns, blood, fighting, cursing, near death experiences, mentions of death, dark haired Jungwon!, two ocs , there’s probably wayyy more but idk how to do this

WC: 21.110 words

Yuni Says: hihi, this is my first fic ever. And I mean like on any writing platform. So I’m completely new to writing- pls bear with me. I’ve been lurking on here for a while but I never published anything. I’m not going to be very very consistent with my writing but I will try my best. Pls feel free to chat with me and give me any feedback to improve. But I’m really really excited to start my journey on here!! Comments and reblogs are rlly appreciated. Anyway I hope you enjoy~ bye lovelies

The mission was simple- get into the gala and do some profiling on the high end criminals there. Although there was a stir of something else. Something big was happening at this gala of the underworld. That is precisely the reason that you were standing here. Underneath these opulent chandeliers in this glittering ballroom in Paris. The soft hum of classical music and whispers of the crooked floated through the air. The gala was filled with champagne fueled conversations that some could only decrypt as devious plans. You adjusted the slit of your deep sea blue dress and scanned the room observing the shadowy and mysterious figures. The earpiece buzzed faintly as you picked up a champagne flute from a waiter passing by.

“Hear anything interesting?” Jungwon’s voice crackled in her ear through the comm system. His annoying voice was smug as always

You suppressed a sigh trying to keep your expression neutral. “If by interesting, you mean potential intel, then no. Just the usual crowd of criminals pretending to be philanthropists.”

“Come on, ___” Jungwon replied. “You need to lighten up a bit. This is just a profiling mission. Its the easiest one we’ve been on in a while. So just relax and try to have some fun will you?”

“Jungwon no matter how easy this is its a mission. We aren’t here to have fun” you say in a focused manner like always.

You scanned around the room noticing him. Jungwon was leaning against the bar in his sharp black tuxedo. His hair was slicked back and he had that air of confidence and easiness he carried. No matter how much you hate to admit it, his broad shoulders, lean build, and small waist looked damn good in that tux. His eyes met yours from across the room. They were deep brown and mysterious, yet they still had that longing look. Those eyes that hide a deeper emotion, something that you couldn’t quite decipher. Even after all that training and those missions where you read people to a tee, you still couldn’t quite read him. Yet, those eyes always lured you in and never failed to bring that slight flush up your neck despite how damn annoying he was. And that damn smile. That charming one he gave with both his dimples poking out. It had already attracted two women who were all up on Jungwon. It was pathetic and honestly infuriating how his simple smile had such an impact on anyone. What’s more pathetic is the way your own heart ached in the slightest way at the sight. Now wasn’t the time for that though. You rolled your eyes as you set the champagne down.

“Are you flirting with civilians again??”

“Would you prefer if I flirted with you instead?” Jungwon teased as he raised his glass in your direction.

“Focus Jungwon,” you hissed. “We are here for intel, not your dating life” you reprimand him as you eye the host of the party, he was new on the scene and your agency needed more information on said man.

“And yet,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, “I’m the one who’s about to make progress.”

Before you could say anything in return he had already slipped away from the bar. He excused himself from the two pretty girls who pouted as he said he needed to leave. The criminal was named Bryan Cavellott, he was new on the high end criminal scene. He had made his grand debut by stealing some jewels from a museum in Russia and now rumor says he has something else thats far more important than some pink diamonds. Something so valuable that he had attracted all the high-level criminals in europe to his gala. As Jungwon made a beeline towards the older man with the crisp white suit and shaped beard, he shot you a sly look.

You narrowed your eyes as you followed him from a distance. You slipped through the crowds as you kept your gaze trained on Jungwon. He had already begun his usual act: leaning in slightly, charming but conspiratorial smile playing on his lips, and a trustworthy tone of voice.

You spoke through the comm system again, “Don’t blow our cover.”

“When have I ever blown our cover?” he whispered with a confident smile as he made his way closer to Cavellott.

“Do you want me to give you the list alphabetically or in order of how many times we almost died?”

Jungwon didn’t say anything but the smirk on his face was answer enough. Instead he finally approached the old man. “Mr. Cavellott?” he said his voice smooth. “Quite a gathering tonight. A man like you must have something truly extraordinary to share with us.”

Cavellott’s smile was thin and practiced but it held a hint of amusement too. “Ah, and you are?”

“Jung Park” he said easily, extending a hand. “Investor, entrepreneur, and lover of all things valuable and rare.”

You groaned into the earpiece quietly as you decided that you needed to make sure Jungwon didn’t get one of his brilliant ideas again. So you approached the two smoothly.

“And who is your lovely companion?” Cavellott asked, his gaze sharp and shifting to meet yours as you slid up next to Jungwon.

“___ Nakamura” you say with a charming smile of your own. “Jung’s business partner.”

Of course Jungwon couldn’t help but add with a stupid grin, “among other things.” which earned him a well deserved but subtle jab to his ribs from your elbow.

Cavellott seemed to have deemed you two trustworthy as he openly chuckled enjoying the dynamic between you two. “Well, Mr. Park and Miss Nakamura, I assure you that tonight’s main attractions is unlike anything you’ve encountered before. An artifact of immense… potential.”

Jungwon tilted his head playing along, “intriguing. I assume this artifact isn’t something you can pick up at a local auction house?”

Cavellott smiled wider. “Hardly. It’s something far more elusive- something that has been hidden for centuries and only recently resurfaced.”

You leaned in slight, your tone cautious but curious. You preceded carefully but you couldn’t help but think- is this what all the stir was about? “Oh? And what exactly makes it so special?”

Cavellott’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of pride and secrecy. “Ah, but that is the question isn’t it? Its value lies not just in what it is but what it could do. That’s what everyone’s here for”

“Sounds dangerous,” you said.

“All things of great power are,” Cavellott replied smoothly. “But that’s why it must be handled by someone who understands its worth. Plus I’m sure a lovely and confident lady like yourself wouldn’t mind a little game of danger?”

You sent Jungwon a quick glance but you both knew what it meant. This was it. It wasn’t just a rumor, whatever this… artifact is, its dangerous and with the way Cavellott is speaking of it- everyone here seems to understand its value. You sent a calm but pleased glance towards Cavellott despite the way your nerves were on edge.

“And this artifact…” Jungwon said his voice steady but probing, “does it have a name?”

Cavellott’s smile thinned as his eyes darted around nervously before he leaned in closer. “I shouldn’t even be discussing this, but I suppose you’ll find out sooner or later. The artifact is known as the Phantom Codex.”

The name itself sent a shiver down your spine although your expression remained neutral. The Phantom Codex… it was something significant. The way Cavellott spoke about it was too unsettling itself.

“And what does it do?” Jungwon asked his tone light but calculating.

Cavellott chuckled lightly but with a hint of knowing. “That, my friend, is the question that everyone here tonight is asking. And the answer… is far more than you could ever imagine.”

Before the two of you could press him any farther a woman on the other end of the ballroom caught his eye. She gave him a sly smile before turning away and walking to the balcony. The challenge in her eye was unmistakable. Cavellott offered the two of you a rushed excuse. “If you’ll excuse me, I must attend to my other guests. Enjoy the evening you two.”

And just like that he disappeared into the crowd. Jungwon leaned in closer to you, his voice was low and calculating. “Phantom Codex. Sound like the title of a bad action movie.”

“Focus Jungwon.” you snapped back at him. Your pulse was calm but your thoughts were racing. “Whatever it is, people are willing to kill for it. I mean some of these criminals hate each other but look at the way they’re playing so nice tonight. Whatever this is we can’t ignore it.”

Jungown’s playful expression faded as he took on a rare serious one instead. “Then I guess it’s time to figure out who else here knows something about it- and what they are willing to do to get it.”

You nodded and scanned the room. This always happened to the two of you, not a single mission where the stakes hadn’t risen. You were playing a game where one wrong move could cost you everything, even your life. In this room surrounded by throngs of dangerous people, you knew the importance of this mission.

“Lets split up,” you said, your tone sharp. You gave him one last look over your shoulder. “And Jungwon? Try not to flirt with anyone.”

“No promises,” he replied with a poor attempt at a wink before disappearing into the crowd. Despite yourself a small smile formed on your lips. You just sighed as you shook your head.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The party shifted into a quieter, more exclusive phase as the night deepened. The glittering and glamorous crowd thinned, leaving behind only those with the wealth, power, and influence to justify their presence at this gala in the heart of Paris. You and Jungwon moved through the crowd, your ears sharp, ready to catch any piece of information about this mysterious artifact.

“Anything?” you whispered your voice barely audible over the classical tunes.

Jungwon, who was on the other side of the opulent room turned to find your eyes as he smiled teasingly. “A lot of people talking about a lot of things. Art deals, offshore accounts… oh and Lady Pennington’s pomeranian apparently needs a personal chef and maid.”

You shot him a sharp look.

“Relax Miss Nakamura,” he teased with a cocky smile as he made his way towards you. “But seriously, everyone’s buzzing about something being revealed soon. I’m betting its our mysterious Codex.”

You nodded, “we need to find out what it is and when its going to be revealed.”

As if on cue two men walked by. One of them was some normal small town criminal. The other one though… It was him, Ebony Lloyd. To say that the pair of you and Lloyd had a history would be an understatement. Whenever there was any trouble he was always there. He had a rich history himself… robberies, head of a notorious organization, bomb and arms dealing, drug trafficking. He was a tall and burly man with sleek black hair and eyes of a wolf always searching for his next prey. Of course someone like him was at a gala like this. He didn’t seem to recognize you as he strolled right by. He was talking in hushed tones with the man but you heard bits of what they were saying. Something that sounded like: “Air strip..” “Vienna” “no mistakes this time”. Great- he was on the move again. You would deal with him later, right now the Codex is what mattered.

Jungwon’s expression soured as he laid his eyes on Lloyd. “Would you look at that? Its our best friend! And he’s conspiring again. I swear he can’t ever keep still for even a few days.” Jungwon sneered quietly as he ran his hand through his styled hair in annoyance.

“We’ll have to deal with him later. Right now we need to find out about the Codex.” you say with a bit of an annoyed expression yourself.

Everyone’s attention got drawn up to the front as a man strode up onto stage. The conversation died down as the man turned to face the crowd, commanding the attention of the room. He started smoothly and with confidence. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us this fine night. As many of you know, tonight’s gathering is more than a celebration– its an unveiling.” he declared

A murmur spread through the crowd as excitement rippled through the room.

“The artifact you are about to see,” the man continued. “Has been the subject speculation and legend for centuries. Its origins are as elusive as its true potential. But tonight, it is here, in this very room, for the first time in generations this precious artifact has been unearthed again.”

Jungwon leaned a bit too close to murmur in your ear, “I have a bad feeling about this.” With the shiver running down your spine all you could do was nod.

Two heavily armed men appeared on stage, wheeling a steel reinforced case onto the stage. The man gestured towards the case with a flourish, his tone turned reverent “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… the Phantom Codex.”

The case opened with a hiss and steam being emitted from inside. There it was.. The ever elusive Phantom Codex. It looked unsuspecting at first glance. Just a small black piece of tech that was shaped like that of a diamond. You had to take a closer look to realize that there were weird symbols and letters etched onto the surface. They didn’t look like any language you recognized.. In fact the looked almost alien. Whats more is that they didn’t seem to ever hold still, they shifted everytime you blinked. The tech emitted an eerie blue glow from the cracks in it as well. It truly was mysterious and a marvel of tech. You couldn’t help but think- how old is this really? Why is this tech so important if its so old??

Jungwon’s breath caught too as he looked at the object. As you looked around the room- no one seemed to be able to look away. They all had the same blue glow in their eyes. This small little black diamond had stunned the hardest of criminals as the crowd gravitated towards it. You could see Jungwon lean closer to the stage himself.

Snapping your finger in front of his eyes you pulled him out of his trance. “Jungwon.” you whispered in a hushed tone. “Stop looking at it. Its like that Codex is pulling you in- like everyone else here.”

He blinked rapidly as he looked around the room like he was finally gaining his senses again. He quickly masked his entrancement, “the only thing pulling me in is you cherie..” He brushed his hand against yours as a little tease. Your heart rate spiked but before you could come back with a witty comment the lights suddenly went out.

“Stay close,” you say as you place your hand on the hilt of the knife concealed under your dress. Panic rose even more when a deafening shattering sound echoed through the room. Yells and cries followed closely as Jungwon muttered to himself “damnit..”

When the lights flickered on there wasn’t a Phantom Codex to marvel at. “It’s gone” you hissed. The armed men were gone and the man who unveiled the Codex was on the floor, a pool of his own crimson blood surrounding him.

“We need to move. The person who stole it isn’t planning to stick around for long,” Jungwon rushed as he grabbed your arm. His grip firm but comforting as you two ran through the panicked crowd towards the nearest exit. Cavellott’s men were starting to close the exits. But in a quick series moves you rendered them unconscious as you ran through the gates.

“Where’d they go?” you demanded, your pulse racing with a mixture adrenaline and frustration. Alas, whoever it was, was long gone. The midnight streets of Paris were completely empty. There wasn’t even a trace of them. “We lost it!” you said, your jaw tight.

You pulled your hand away from Jungwon as you smoothened your dress out with a look of frustration. Jungwon’s teasing personality dimmed as he placed a warm hand on your shoulder providing comfort in the cold night. “We’ll figure this out. You know we always do,” he said his voice steady despite the tension.

It was concerning how fast he could manipulate your emotions with just a few words. You unclenched your jaw as you gave him a curt nod. Still though your mind raced. What exactly was this Phantom Codex? Why were people going to the end of the world for that little diamond? And why did you have a sneaking feeling that this was just the beginning??

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Back at their hotel, you sat crossed legged on the bed, a tablet in your lap as you compiled all the information you had picked up- which wasn’t much. Jungwon on the other hand paced around the room with his tie loose, hair messed up with the way he ran his hands through it, and his shirt untucked. It was a sign of his restlessness.

Reviewing the security camera footage and guest list was of no use. Whoever this was- and you had a suspecting feeling- they were good. They were professional. Not a trace of them anywhere, just a shadow in the darkness.

“I think we both know who caused all this.” You said with a long exasperated sigh, falling back on the bed with a hand covering your eyes.

Jungwon groaned as he threw himself on the other side of the bed with the same hatred in his voice. “Ebony Lloyd. I swear when I get my hands on him I’m going to-”

Before Jungwon could continue his pleasant words a blue light shone from the tablet. The two of you quickly stood up and straightened out your outfits and you slapped the back of Jungwon’s head mouthing to him to straighten his tie before turning the video on. It was a call from your superior, Mrs. Kwon. She chuckled noticing your slightly disheveled appearance. Then Mrs. Kwon spoke with an easy tone, “agent ___, agent Yang. Nice to see you two so relaxed after a mission. Report to me.”

You spoke up first, “quite the opposite Mrs. Kwon. The mission didn’t go as well as we planned.” you say with a slightly ashamed tone but keeping your expressions professional.

“We profiled on Cavellott, but there was something else. The rumors were true ma’am. There was something big at this gala. Its called the Phantom Codex. We think its something we should be worried about” Jungwon reported. It was a bit unsettling how his personality changed to professional and obedient the moment he was under the hard gaze of our superior. What caught you off guard was the way that Mrs. Kwon’s easy and laid back demeanor dropped immediately the moment she heard the artifact’s name. There was some shuffling on her side- it sounded like she moved rooms.

Her voice came out in a whisper, “the Phantom Codex?? Are you two out of your mind?”

You and Jungwon shared a confused glance before looking back at her. “No ma’am. It's true. We saw it, it was at the gala tonight. But its gone now. Stolen.” you spoke up your tone sincere. Her nervous expression was making you uneasy. Mrs. Kwon was never nervous. “Ma’am if you don’t mind me asking. What is it? What does do?”

Her expression darkened as her tone was now dead serious. “Its dangerous. Every single criminal no matter how big or small is pursuing it. It can hack into anything and manipulate data in ways that humans never though possible. Things like government agencies, federal banks, military systems, nuclear codes, databases of civilians of whole countries.” she spoke, her seriousness making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “You two listen carefully. No one. And I mean absolutely no one else should know about this. Is that clear? I don’t care what mission you’re on right now, now your one and only mission is securing the Codex. Is that clear?”

Jungwon could hear her deadly tone too as he gulped softly. You both nodded as she wished you luck before cutting communication. You let your stiff posture relax as you met Jungwon’s gaze. Both of you knew. This wasn’t just some tech, it was powerful, dangerous, and deathly. “I’ve never seen Mrs. Kwon that serious… Something isn’t right.” you observe quietly. You tried to read Jungwon’s gaze but his eyes were too complicated.

“Well no pressure right?” Jungwon sighed as he leaned back into an armchair his hands behind his head.

“This is serious Jungwon, did you see Mrs. Kwon??” you shot him a glare as you bristled at the way his posture was so relaxed so easily.

“I know,” he interrupted, his usual smirk replaced by a grim expression. “And we’re gonna find it okay?”

For a moment your eyes met, a flicker of understanding and something else passed through you. That something else made you look away as you sighed- even with the weight of this serious mission Jungwon’s gaze could make your heart flutter. “Just.. sleep soon. We have a long day ahead of us.” you say as you go to change into something more apt for sleep.

Jungwon let a faint smile grace his lips as he called out to you from the bed, “aww are you worried for me darling~?” he teased as he watched you come back from the bathroom after changing.

“Shut up. I just don’t want your work to be sloppy Jungwon” you say with an annoyed tone meeting his light gaze with a serious one. Although you knew that he was just trying to lighten the mood and tension. You silently thanked him for it before getting under the sheets.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes of their hotel room, neither you nor Jungwon was in the mood for sunshine. The air was thick with tension as you reviewed every scrap of information you had gathered the night prior.

You sat on the couch, your legs tucked under you as you sifted through endless digital files, recordings, and articles. Your hair was in a messy bun and the cup of coffee in your hand trembled slightly from too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Jungwon on the other hand was sprawled in an arm chair. He had seemed to made the decision to not be bothered by any of the events from last night. It frustrated you a bit that you were here busting your ass trying to find something- anything to help the mission and he just sat there. Tossing a stress ball in the air and catching it with a relaxed motion as if the fate of the world wasn’t hanging by a thread.

“Geez you’ve been hunched over that computer for hours” he drawled as he caught the stress ball lazily and looked up from his impromptu game, “have you even found anything?”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to be breaking my back for hours if you just decided to help.” you snapped, your patience wearing dangerously thin.

“Touchy this morning,” he teased as you clenched your jaw with frustration and annoyance. God- you swore he was the spawn of the devil- “what? Didn’t sleep well huh?”

“How could I? With you snoring like a chainsaw the entire damn night??” you spat back your head practically fuming by now.

“I do not snore”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you muttered scrolling through yet another document.

Jungwon finally decides that he’s done pushing at your limits. He snickers as he stands up stretching like he had been doing some serious work this entire time. “Well maybe if you used common sense you wouldn’t have to be working so hard.” he stated as you were about at the end of your patience and your hands were itching to grab him by his pretty little neck and- “Vienna. Lloyd. Last night. I have to say- I thought with those witty comebacks I thought you would be sharper ___”

Your expression faltered as your mind raced through last night. He’s right.. Lloyd was there. He was whispering about Vienna and not long after the Codex had disappeared into thin air. It was him again. You sighed exasperated, finally getting up from the couch. You wanted to wipe that smirk off his face- you absolutely despised when he was right, “maybe your constant stupidity is starting to rub off on me. Just stop smiling and pack your bags”

As he stood up too he moved to stand behind you as he placed his hands deliberately on your waist. His voice was low and smug as his breath fanned your skin, “Whatever you say babe… but just once.. Admit I was right sweetheart.”

The only response he got was a deathly glare from you and his own yelp as you twisted his hands in an awkward angle behind his back, “try something like that again and you won’t live to see next time you’re right.” you scowled with a dangerous voice as he just grinned like an idiot.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The airstrip was alive with activity even in the dead of the night. The soft whine of jet engines and distant echoes of shouted instructions blended with the cold Austrian night. You had surveyed the area already so your movements were calculated. Lloyd had been clear- the Phantom codex was being transported through Vianna tonight, possibly by air. This was your chance to intercept it.

“We have to move quickly and quietly” you reminded him as you two sneaked through the grounds. You both blended seamlessly into the dark landscape- just like shadows.

“I know sweetheart, don’t worry I got it” Jungwon replied and you could hear the teasing smirk in his voice. You groaned internally at the way his sweet nicknames made your cheeks warm. Thank god for the cover of the night.

As you two approached the dimly lit hangar at the far end of the airstrip, your sharp eyes caught movement- a group of armed men were unloading a sleek black case from a private jet. Your heart rate sped up. The Codex.

“Bingo,” you whispered, pointing towards the hangar. But before you could say anything further, Jungwon covered your mouth pulling you behind the metal walls of a storage unit. You let out a muffed protest as your eyes widened.

You couldn’t help but notice the way that Jungwon was pressed flush against you. He had you pinned to the wall as he held a finger to your lips. You could hear his heart beat and his warmth reached you through the gear you both wore. His scent was a subtle one but comforting in a way. “Shhh, look-” Jungwon said in a hushed tone as you followed his gaze. There he was. Ebony Lloyd. He was getting off the jet that had been parked in the same hangar from where the codex had been extracted. He had tall burly men flanking both his sides as he made his way to a black van. He was close- way too close. You could practically smell his strong and obnoxious cologne from all the way over here.

If you two just stayed quiet and didn’t make a sound- CRUNCH!!. Shit. You accidentally shifted against Jungwon as you boots made a small sound on the gravel that was far too loud for the quiet night. Lloyd had a sickening smirk on his face as he made his way over to the two of you. You cursed under your breath as Jungwon stepped away from you, now facing him.

“Well well, would you look at that? The lovebirds and the world’s most dysfunctional duo!!” Lloyd drawled on as he voice was low and condescending.

You hated him too- not to misunderstand. But Jungwon had an entirely different fight to pick with him. Lloyd had a way of getting under his skin just like how Jungwon gets under yours. Jungwon was proud no matter how much he protested it. Lloyd had bruised his ego way too many times. You had to give it to him he was smart- that’s the only reason you ever lost. Its because he was always one step ahead. Jungwon detested him entirely. You could already see his rigid body language and clenched fists. Jungwon was practically fuming- this was something both Lloyd and you could see. And Lloyd took great pleasure in it.

“Jungwon… don’t. He’s testing you.” you clenched your own fists. You knew Lloyd and his love for mind games. But tonight the two of you had no time for his little game. The Codex was right there- so close.

But Jungwon ignored you. His teeth clenched as he stormed forward before you could stop him. “And you-” he seethed with his eyes cold and hard, “you little bastard. Got your sights on the Codex huh? Needed something more to show off to your pathetic little mistress? Couldn’t please her or your wife?”

“Oh stop acting so high and mighty jungwon. You can’t seem to win over your pretty little partner’s heart so don’t go insulting my love life.” He chuckled arrogantly. The statement really seemed to strike a chord in Jungwon. “These harsh words aren’t from lingering feelings about Milan right? Or was it Budapest? Or maybe… Dubai? You’ve lost so many times I’ve lost track.”

“Jungwon no-” you say your voice firm and hard as you eyed the four bodyguards trying to plan your escape.

But it was far too late. Jungwon snapped. Without a word he surged even closer towards Lloyd.

“Dammit it Jungwon.” you hissed desperately as you scrambled to follow him.

The two men collided, Jungwon’s fist connected with Lloyd’s jaw as a sickening crack rang out. The criminal staggered backwards and his bodyguards were quick to react as they rained down punches on Jungwon. You quickly lept into action kicking one of them square in the head while landing an uppercut to another ones jaw. You fired two quick shots incapacitating the other two.

Meanwhile, Jungwon freed himself only to launch back at Lloyd with more rage than before. But the criminal had more tricks up his sleeve. Quite literally!! He pulled a knife from his coat as they grappled. The fight was taking the two dangerously close to another jet’s running engines. Jungwon’s back thudded onto the flight’s metal body. Lloyd landed another strike but this time slashing Jungwon with his knife- drawing blood. Jungwon was too far gone to care at that moment. Lloyd landed one final cut to his abdomen as Jungwon fell to the tarmac.

You saw it happed with your own two eyes. The Codex. It had been loaded onto the plane. Lloyd smiled satisfied at the way Jungwon was trying hard to recover. “Jungwon!!” your voice rang out as you lunged for him. You caught him just in time. The two of you scrambled out of the way as the jet made its way down the runway.

There it was- gone once again, and that too in the hands of Lloyd.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The tension in your vienna hotel room was suffocating. You paced in front of the window, your arms crossed, your face the mask of frustration. Jungwon sat on the bed, one hand on his cut arm and the other on his abdomen, both trying to nurse the gashes on his body. You were fuming and it only added fuel to the fire that your heart was telling you to help Jungwon with his injuries.

“You completely lost control!!” you snapped instead, whirling around to face him. “We had the Codex right there, and you threw it away- for what?!? A grudge match?”

Jungwon sighed leaning against the the headboard. He was tired and annoyed himself, you could tell. “Lloyd needed to be dealt with. He–”

“He got under your skin,” you interrupted, with your voice rising. “And now we’re back to square one because of your ego!!”

Jungwon met your glare with his expression softening which only annoyed you more. There was a silence that was filled with tension and something else that was better it remained unspoken. You clenched your teeth as you saw the slight hint of a smile playing at the corner his lips. You scoffed to yourself. Why the hell was he smiling?? You just lost one of the most dangerous artifacts to a notorious criminal. This was most definitely not the time to be smiling. “What???” you snapped at him crossing your arms once again.

“Hm? Oh nothing.. You’re just really cute when you’re mad.” he said in a matter of factly tone. You hated yourself for the way your brain went blank for a good few seconds. You hated the way your cheeks felt warm and your breath hitched for just a moment.

You groaned loudly throwing up your hands in frustration. “Don’t do that! Don’t try to charm your way out of this.”

“Who says I’m trying to charm you? But even if I was.. It looks like its working- no?” he smirks despite the blood trickling from a cut on his lips. His damn lips that curled up even more when he saw your gaze on them. His damn lips that your just wanted to feel against yours- No!! You weren’t distracted by his idiotically plump, soft, and full lips.

You shot him a look after tearing your gaze away from his lips. Your sharp retort died on your lips when you saw the gash on his arm and abs. Your frustration warred with concern, but, with a heavy sigh, you grabbed the first aid kit from the desk.

“Take off the gear” you ordered your voice clipped.

Jungwon had the nerve to raise his eyebrows in mock surprise. “If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could've just asked babe.”

You shot him another deathly glare as you advanced towards him. The faint pink in your cheeks betrayed you as you made him put down the gauze he had in his hands and took his shirt off. Well I mean- you were just a girl after all. His toned muscles and hard lines of his chest and abs. The slight glisten of sweat and the scars that littered his body were so hot… well shit. “Getting distracted sweetheart?” Jungwon teased. You snapped your eyes back up to his face and made sure your gaze was sharp.

“Just hold still” you muttered, dabbing at the cut with disinfectant. Jungwon winced but he didn’t dare pull away. His gaze was trained on you as you worked with your movements precise and efficient. But your hands lingered on his skin for a few too moments too long. The tension was palpable in the air, the unspoken words and heat between the two of you was at its peak. You met his gaze and this time you could read it- but you didn’t want to. You were his partner it was strictly professional. The way your heart beat way too fast gave you away though.

He sliced the tension with a knife when he uttered your name out softly. It lacked any of his arrogance or its usual teasing edge to it. You didn’t look up. Too scared to see what you find if you looked up again. “Don’t Jungwon. Just… don’t.”

He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he said, and for once he sounded sincere. There was undertones of something else too. “I screwed up.”

You froze, your breath catching at the unexpected vulnerability in his tone. You shivered at his gently touch, it melted away your anger and replaced it with something warmer, something neither of you could name. You took in a shaky breath as you replied, your voice lacking the earlier bite “you did.”

Jungwon’s lips curved into a faint smile. “But you’re still patching me up. Guess that means you care.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your moth twitched up- fighting back a smile. “Don’t push it.” you warned but your voice had gone soft.

You fell into a charged silence, the air between you thick with unspoken words. Jungwon’s hand lingered on your wrist, but for once you didn’t pull away. It was dangerous the way your heart raced at his touch. “You’re too reckless,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“And you’re too stubborn,” he replies, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. At that moment you knew you couldn’t lose him. You hate to finally admit it but it was true. All the times he had risked his life to save you from near death situations, his stupid jokes that lightened up any situation, and his dumb pet names that made you smile every time. You knew you couldn’t lose him- so the least you could do for all those times was forgive him. Just this once.

You finished patching up his gashes silently before abruptly standing up. You walked to the other side of the hotel room as you set the first aid kit down once again. It was your pathetic attempt at trying your heart to beat normally once again. You turned back to face him- relieving yourself of the weight of your own gear as Jungwon spoke again. “So just to be clear. You weren’t staring at my lips or my abs right? Because then that would mean that you find me-”

“Jungwon!” you cut him off with a stern gaze. But his infuriating, smug, dimple filled smile still remained on his lips as he just shrugs.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After that night in Vienna you couldn’t stop thinking about him- well you always had him on your mind anyway- but something else nagged at you. This Phantom Codex… you knew what it was supposed to do, but it still had a mysterious aura about it. There was something so elusive about this simple piece of tech, and you were determined to find out what.

That is exactly how you ended up here. In your shared hotel room with your glasses forming dents on your nose, your hands trembling from too much caffeine, and your eyes had deep circles under them that showed how you had been up for far too long.

I mean you can’t blame yourself- you tried to sleep. You swear you did. But Jungwon’s words and gaze and touch just wouldn’t let you rest. Jungwon groaned as he blinked his eyes open- the bright light of the screen blinding his eyes. “___? You’re kidding me” he stated in a rough and groggy voice. He turned his head as he squinted towards the digital clock. “It’s five A.M. Did you even sleep?”

“Couldn’t” you replied short and distant. “I was too busy doing your job.”

“Ah, there it is- the sharp tongue of my favorite partner” he said with a smile in his tone as he heaved his body- still marred with the gashes from before- into a sitting position. “Morning to you too, sweetheart”

You gave him a glare over your shoulder, but the deep circles under your eyes betrayed your exhaustion. “Don’t even start with me Jungwon. I’ve been piecing intel while you’ve been snoring away again.”

“I do not snore,” he insisted indignantly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the headboard.

“Oh, trust me you do. After all these years of sharing a hotel room, you most definitely do.” You turned back to your screen, muttering under your breath, “it’s like trying to sleep next to a freight train.”

He just rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed in fake and exaggerated. He watched as you typed away, the sounds of your fingers dancing along the keys an insistent sound in the room. In an amused but concerned tone he prodded, “What are you even looking at?”

“The Codex.” your voice was clipped. But there was an edge of something else— anxiety and nervousness. “I hacked into one of Lloyd’s encrypted files. I think I found a list of targets who apparently know something about the Codex.”

He nodded as he shifter closer to look over your shoulder at the screen. “Okay, thats progress. But… why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he questioned carefully.

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard and your body tensed. You took a deep breath before meeting his eyes, your expression guarded but your voice trembling just slightly, “My… My sister.. Her name is on his list.” you declare. Your brain was a mess even if you didn’t let it show. She was your sister, the few people in this cutthroat world that you loved and trusted blindly.

The air in the room seemed to thickened. Jungwon’s teasing smirk disappeared as he processed your shaky words. “Your sister?”

“She’s a target,” you said, your voice cracking despite an effort to stay composed. “I don’t know why or- or what they want from her, but–” you stopped, shaking your head as you pinched the bridge of your nose. Scared of just the thought or Lloyd targeting your sister or losing her entirely. “If we don’t get the Codex back, she’s in danger. I can’t– I can’t let that happen” you looked at him with scared and vulnerable eyes. This was the first time you let this happen. The first time you opened up to him.

He moved closer to you as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “___, hey. Listen to me.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your eyes to his.

“We’ll get it back,” he said firmly, his voice steady and unwavering. “I swear to you. We’ll find the Code, and we’ll protect your sister.”

“You don’t understand,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes distant as you thought about the horrifying possibilities of what might happen. “This isn’t just another mission anymore. Its personal.”

“I know,” Jungwon said, his tone softening. “And that’s why we’re going to win this. Because when it comes to you and the people you care about.. I swear to you- I would rather die than fail.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the rare sincerity in his voice. For a moment time slowed and the truth behind his voice rang clearer. The unspoken weight of his words weighed heavy on your shoulders. It was nice. It was nice to know that he would be there, even when times were tough or uncertain. He spoke with a promise that didn’t waver at all. His presence was firm and steady. It grounded you even as doubt filled your mind. You knew that from the countless successful missions you two had accomplished, that with him- anything was possible.

“You’re such an idiot,” you muttered, brushing past the lump in your throat and rapidly blinking trying not to show your vulnerability even more.

“Then its a shame that you’re stuck with me isn’t it?” Jungwon replied with a smile tugging at his lips. “Now, come on. You need to sleep before you collapse on me.”

“I’m fine.” you insisted stubbornly, standing up and brushing past him.

“‘I’m fine’ my ass,” Jungwon drawled, following you despite the pain his body faced when he moved. “Just like I’m the best hacker in this partnership.”

“You? Hacker? Yeah right- since when??” you show back with your usual sharpness returning to your voice.

He grinned like an idiot and his dreamy dimples made another appearance. “There she is. I was worried the all-nighter had turned you into a zombie.”

You rolled your eyes but the hint of a smile on your lips was still clear as day.

Later that evening, after hours of futile attempts to trace the codex’s whereabouts and Jungwon’s incessant nagging, you finally slumped onto the hotel bed, your exhaustion catching up to you. Jungwon walked to you from the kitchen a glass of water in his hand.

“Drink,” he said, holding it out to you.

“I’m fine,” you protested though your voice was hoarse. As much as you silently appreciated his comfort and care, you didn’t need to be coddled by your annoyance of a partner.

He said said your name in a stern tone of voice that left no room for argument. You sighed but took the glass of water, considering your pounding headache from looking at the computer screen all day, it was the right thing to do. Your fingers brushed his for just a moment too long. “Thanks” you muttered out.

He sat next to you, his usual cockiness replaced by a quiet concern. “You know” he started, “for someone who calls me reckless, you’re not exactly great at taking care of yourself.”

You scoffed, “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled lightly his head shaking at your retort even with the pounding in your head. “Fair.”

The silence that followed wasn’t really uncomfortable, but it was definitely charged with something you both refused to acknowledge. You stared down at the glass in your hands. Your mind still running in overdrive with worry for your sister, the Codex, and the precarious line that you and Jungwon seem to be walking on. This dangerous pull that lulled you both towards one another that you just danced around.

“You’re too good at this,” you said your tone suddenly softer and quieter. “At making me feel like everything’s gonna be okay,” you admit with your cheeks warming as you turn your head, avoiding his gaze. You sigh as you continued on, trying to lighten the mood, “I guess there is one single thing that you’re good at. Sweet talking your way out of messes?”

“Out of messes? Oh please darling- my sweet talking has a much greater purpose- like sweet talking my way into sitting on the same bed as you.” he pretending to sigh dreamily as the sparkle of amusement didn’t leave his eye, “wow~ what an honor.”

This led to you pushing him off the edge of the bed and trying to contain your laughter as he landed with a big thud. He let out a yelp as he rubbed his back, the big boba eyes he gave you only worked on those girls at parties. “How about you start trying to sweet talk your way into me not beating your ass?” you say with an amused but genuine smile. He huffed in defeat as he stalked his way over to the couch. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“Goodnight sweetheart~” you mocked him as he silently flipped you off.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The streets of Tokyo buzzed with life, the neon lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the bustling city. The air was filled with noises of children, adults, and automobiles. It was freezing cold in the night and you could see your breath in front of you, coming out in a cold white fog. You trailed a step behind Jungwon, your arms crossed as you watched him survey the surroundings with an air of practiced nonchalance. The two of you made your way to the looming but sleek and modern hotel. Of course it was a five star experience in Tokyo, only the best for the two best agents.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Jungwon remarked, glancing over his shoulder at you. You couldn’t help but groan internally at the situation. And also at the fact that no man should look that ridiculously good with his hair messy and blowing in the wind.

“Just trying to figure out how we ended up in this situation,” you muttered with annoyance as you shifted the bag on your shoulder.

“Acting like a couple?” he smirked, pushing the tall glass door open for you. “Don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying it.”

You stepped into the threshold with a sharp glare pointed at him. You had to hide the fast pace of your heart somehow, “You’re delusional.”

The hotel lobby was elegant and the chandelier shimmered in all the hotel’s elegance. The ambient lighting and soft jazz music filled the space. You took note of the huge glass windows that could be a possible threat. The receptionist looked at the two of you with a practiced smile which widened when she laid eyes on Jungwon. You didn’t really know why but it made you roll your eyes.

“Reservation under Park and Nakamura,” Jungwon said in his usual arrogant and cocky tone of voice. You couldn’t help but be more pissed at his voice but also find it a bit endearing as well. It was something you looked up to, he had a certain way with his words and it always worked somehow.

“Ah yes of course, I’ll be sure to get your bags up to your room. Anything else you needed help with?” the girl at the desk batted her long eyelashes at Jungwon and it made you annoyed even more. Why, though? It's not like you had some weird feelings for your idiotic spy partner or something.

“Oh no that’s quite alright, me and my boyfriend can carry our bags up to the room ourselves.” you smiled at her patronizingly. You had to try really hard to ignore Jungwon’s stupid smirk as you lugged the bags to the elevator.

“Boyfriend? Staking your claim sweetheart?” he asked smugly as he struggled to carry the bigger bag towards the elevator. “Besides, why did you stop her?? Now we have to break our backs trying to get these bags into our rooms.” he said as he huffed, putting the bag down for a second to catch his breath.

“Did you want her to discover the Glock 19 stowed in our bags?” you asked in a mocking tone. You didn’t know exactly why you were so on edge from just a simple look Jungwon had received, but you felt as though from recent events.. You and Jungwon had started to walk down a dangerous path that none of you were ready to acknowledge.

You opened the lock with a bit more force than necessary. The hotel suite was spacious, with a panoramic view of the Tokyo skyline. But your heart truly dropped as your bags slipped out of your hands when your view zeroed-in on the centerpiece of the room. The king-sized bed. You shook your head immediately as you spun to face his already wide grinning face. “No way. Absolutely not. There is no way in hell I am sharing that.”

Jungwon with the most aggravating smile quirked one of his eyebrows, “What’s the problem? Afraid you’ll be tempted?” he asked with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“In your dreams,” you shot back. You were not just about to expose yourself completely by sleeping in the same bed as him and then failing miserably to contain your idiotic emotions. No damn way.

“I’m just saying,” he said as he tossed his bags to the side. He jumped onto the pristine sheets, ruining them completely. “We need to look convincing, even in the hotel. The staff might be watching.”

You scowled. He was right, you both were well aware of the fact that Lloyd had his men lurking everywhere. “Fine. But if you so much as cross to my side of the bed, I swear-”

“Relax,” Jungwon interrupted, his hands up in a mock display of surrender. “I’ll stay on my side of the bed. Unless you wanted me to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You two were in Tokyo just because Mrs. Kwon had heard some rumors of the Codex here. There wasn’t any real evidence, but Mrs. Kwon was desperate. So for now the two of you just had to lay low and try to find anything more about the whereabouts of the dangerous piece of tech. That's the reason you couldn’t quite wrap your head around why Jungwon was parading the two of you around the hotel with his hand resting gently on your waist. Well you couldn’t really wrap your head around anything at the moment with how Jungwon’s fingers were softly brushing against your skin. “Remind me why I agreed to this?” you sighed as you forced the warmth in your cheeks to retreat.

“To keep up appearances sweetheart,” Jungwon whispered with his tone low and teasing, as his thumb rubbed absent minded circles on your skin, which only made your mind spiral even more. He had insisted that being stuck in your room all day reviewing the same five documents wouldn’t do you any good. So now you are here doing ‘bonding activities’ with your despised partner.

“I’m going to kill you one day,” you murmured through a tight lipped grin.

“Is that a challenge princess?” Jungwon asked a bit too loudly as you passed the receptionist once more. For some twisted reason this gave you satisfaction as you continued walking through the lobby. You couldn’t resist shooting her a devilish glance.

Still though, you forced yourself to keep up your act. “Lay it on any thicker and they’ll drown in it.” you hissed through gritted teeth.

You spent the entire rest of the day ‘bonding’ with Jungwon. But it was the small moments that caught you off guard. One of them was when you two were playing pool. He insisted that your posture was just offensive to the game. So he made a show of holding your arm as his strong chest pressed against your back. His breath lingered on your neck as his other hand rested on your waist once again. “Like this sweetie,” he muttered, his voice deep and velvety, as he paid no attention to the pool, his eyes only on your face, as if trying to memorize every little scar and contour. Your heart and mind were both unwell. They were working overtime trying desperately to process any of what was happening.

Another time he had you on your toes was when you were mid reach about to strangle him. The two of you were spending time in the arcade and as both of your personalities would permit it. The competitive streak was at another level entirely. So you were at your wit’s end when he interrupted your focus again as you concentrated on smashing the moles wherever they popped up. You had given him a fair amount of warning but you were running out of patience and points because you insisted on a rematch every time. A couple had strolled in and they were just about to take in the sight of you committing homicide. But before you could move you were pressed back against the machine with your arms unknowingly wrapped around his neck. “Play along if you don’t want to get caught ___.” he whispered, tightening his grip around your torso. You tried not to let the hammering of your heart and heat in your skin give you away.

The moment the couple had left you pushed him off but the smirk on his face didn’t budge.

When dinner came around you two had decided to eat at a fancy restaurant. But you cursed Jungwon as he smiled smugly at you. Obviously he was the center of attention for everyone there, so you couldn’t even curse him out without blowing your cover. He was taking full advantage of it though. “Say ‘ahh’ babe~” he cooed, holding up the spoon to your mouth. You rolled your eyes discreetly before you let him feed you. But before he could get too smug you sharply stepped on his foot from under the table. After all, you couldn’t let him think you were succumbing to his stupid flirting. You hid the smirk behind a glass of wine as you sipped it innocently while he glared at you from across the table.

It was late at night now. Even the beautiful city of Tokyo had dimmed its lights and gone to sleep. But you and Jungwon just couldn’t rest. Mrs. Kwon wanted answers and she wanted the Codex even faster. But after Jungwon had tired you out the entire day, the documents looked like they were from some other alien language. Your eyes were half lidded and bleary from the need to sleep.

You were just about to reach for the jug of coffee when Jungwon’s own sleepy voice called out to you. “Absolutely not. Hands off. Do you want a caffeine overdose?” he asked as he got up and took the jug away from you. You let a loud whine fall from your lips as you shot him a glare. You hate when he was right. But before you could shoot back at him with a snarky response, it all happened.

Both of you heard the footsteps from outside the door. Your head snapped up mid scroll. “Did you hear that?” you asked in a hushed whisper. The two of you were already in action though. You shoved the important files, weapons, and gear into your bag. Jungwon tossed you your gun as the two of you crouched behind the bed. The footfalls of the people outside were far too heavy and far too deliberate to be of normal guests.

“How did they find us??” Jungwon hissed as he reloaded his gun quietly. The footsteps paused and you took a deep breath before the chaos started.

The explosion rattled the room as the heavy wooden door came flying down. Splinters flew across the room like shrapnel, and you barely managed to miss the lamp that flew past you, shattering on the ground.

“Down!!” Jungwon yelled as the hail of bullets followed quickly. He dove towards you just in time before the air filled with gunfire.

Lloyd’s men poured into the room by the dozen. Their movements were swift and calculated but you two were like a well oiled machine. Nothing could stop Jungwon’s instinct and your precise aim.

Jungwon fired the shots, taking out the lead man with two clean hits to the chest. You rolled out from behind the bed, your gun steady in your hands as you aimed at the intruders. You picked the men off like birds on a wire, one by one with deadly accuracy.

“Left!” you shouted, and Jungwon pivoted, shooting the man who was trying to flank you.

“Nice call,” he said, his voice tight before he ducked for cover again.

You didn’t respond., your focus entirely on the men in front of you. One of them charged at you, his gun jammed, but you dropped him like a fly with one well placed kick to the chest, before you finished him off entirely with a shot.

“Watch out!!” Jungwon’s voice cut through the chaos and you turn just in time to see a man tossing a grenade towards the center of the room.

Your heart froze. You thought this was the end.

But Jungwon was faster.

He lunged, grabbing your arm and pulling you against his chest as your back hit the wall of the far corner of the room. The grenade exploded a second later, the blast shaking the entire suite. Glass shattered, furniture splintered, and a cloud of smoke and debris filled the air.

Your ears rang, and your vision blurred with tears as you struggled to breathe through the dust. You realized your head was pressed against Jungwon’s chest as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. When you looked up to see his distressed expression it's like you were looking at an angel. The sparks and gunshots whizzed behind him, there was a bleeding cut on his cheek, and his heart was racing. But in this life threatening moment all you could see was him.

“Jungwon…” you said, your voice barely audible over the ringing in your ears.

“I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was strained. But in all the chaos, you could see the bullet that was lodged in his arm. He grimaced as he moved to shoot more men that tried to advance.

“You’re hit,” you said with a trembling voice as the sight of his blood made you sick to the stomach.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, wincing as he moved, pulling you up to your feet. “We’re not done yet.”

More men surged into the room, but your initial shock and fear quickly transformed into fury. God when you got your hands on Lloyd… You grabbed your gun that had slid out of reach when the explosion rattled. You fired with precision, covering him as he pressed his hand to the wound. He winced at the sight of his own crimson blood as you shot down three more men. The room was a mess of bodies, blood, and debris.

“We need to move!” you shouted, helping Jungwon up as he grabbed the bag.

Jungwon scanned the room. The floor was unstable because of the explosion, more of Lloyd’s men just kept filling in through the door, so the only escape was.. “Window,” he said.

You both ran towards the large glass pane just as another explosion rocked the suite. Jungwon kicked out the window, the glass shattered into a million pieces. “Out,” he ordered.

“What abou-”

“Now!!”

You hesitated but still climbed onto the narrow ledge. Jungwon followed, his movements slower but determined despite his injury. You both got out just in time before another explosion rocked the building. The rain was pouring down in sheets. The slick surface of the ledge made every step even more treacherous than the last. But you two made your way to the emergency fire escape.

You two raced down the long dangerous steps as you covered Jungwon, shooting at the men who tried to pursue and pulling Jungwon when bullets whizzed onto the metal of the staircase. As soon as you were on the wet pavement, your hotel room burst into flames.

Bullets licked your heels as you narrowly avoided death, making a run towards a bike parked on the side of the road. You immediately got to work, hotwiring the bike as fast as you could. While Jungwon clutched his arm but still covered you with fierce determination.

“Get on!” you yelled, though you couldn’t hear much over your heart racing in your ears. You and Jungwon quickly sped away into the maze of streets. You rode like a maniac, avoiding cars by just small fractions of millimeters. The shouts echoed behind you but before Lloyd’s men could even rev the engine of their cars, you were gone.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The rain still lashed against the window of the safe house, the dim light of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. The air was quiet but filled to the brim with tension. You sat on the edge of the couch, your hands tightly clasped in your lap. Your mind swirled with worry. Your sister’s face flashed in your thoughts- innocent, unsuspecting, completely unaware of the danger the Phantom Codex posed to her. She was a high ranking government official, both of your lives were forced to be kept secrets from each other. Yet the bond you shared with her was unbreakable and eternal. And she was only in more and more danger, if anything, the ambush today showed just how open Lloyd was being with his attempts. It showed… just how ruthless he could be.

And Jungwon… he had risked his life, gotten shot all for you. He sat across from you, his injured arm freshly bandaged after extracting the bullet and disinfecting the wound. His posture was more relaxed, the chaos had taken a toll on him too but he handled it like it was a normal Tuesday. His eyes watch you, sharp gaze softened by concern.

“You’re too quiet,” he said finally, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

You looked up at him, your lips pressing into a thin line. “What do you want me to say, Jungwon? That I’m fine? That everything’s okay?” you shook your head, your hands tightening into fists. “Because it’s not. My sister is in danger, we just got ambushed by Lloyd’s men, and you–” your voice caught and you looked away.

“Me?” Jungwon prompted, leaning forward despite the strain it put on his arm.

You couldn’t live with the thought. The horrifying thought that… you could have lost him. You stupid, idiotic, funny, loyal, and annoyingly handsome partner. How could you live with yourself if his dimpled smile wasn’t there to brighten any situation? How could you live with yourself if his grounding presence wasn’t there to calm you before missions? How could you… live without him?

Your voice was trembling now. “You could have died. Do you even understand that? If you hadn’t pulled me away from that grenade–” you cut yourself off, exhaling sharply.

He whispered your name, but you wouldn’t hear it.

“No, let me finish,” you said, your voice rising. “You threw yourself in harm’s way without even thinking, and I–” you buried your face in your hands, your body quivering like you had been reduced to some little girl- not a world class spy. “I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not when we’re so close, and when I still–”

He was in front of you before you could finish, he was crouching despite the sharp pain in his arm. He placed his hands gently on yours as he pried them away from your face. You met his gaze and it was sharp, like he could see to the depths of your soul.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady. “I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me? I’m right here, and we’re going to get that Codex. For your sister. For you. For us. But you’ve got to stop thinking the worst, or you’re going to drive yourself crazy.”

Your lower lip quivered but you nodded still. He was trying his hardest to comfort you, so despite the gnawing fear and doubt in your mind you believed him. Because when he was here with you, it felt like nothing in this world was impossible. Your eyes shimmered with tears, you refused to let fall, “You can't keep scaring me like this Jungwon.”

“I’ll try,” he said, his signature smirk softening into something more vulnerable and sincere. “But I’m not going to apologize for keeping you safe.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. He had done what he did, to protect you, he put his life on the line because he cared for you. Then something inside you broke– no, shifted. Before you could process what you were doing and meticulously overthink the consequences, your hands gripped the front of his shirt, and you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant like the previous brushes of affection the two of you had. This kiss was deep, desperate, and full of the emotions that they two of you had buried for years. It was full of that desire that the two of you had danced around for so long. Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt, as though afraid he might disappear. He responded just as fiercely, his hands coming up to cradle your face, careful to avoid the still-tender bruises.

You couldn’t pull back from him- not until your last breath. Just like he had stood by your side promising to protect you till his last breath. But you had to when the air in your lungs ran out. Your forehead rested against each other as your breath came out in pants, mingling with his in the quiet room.

“I can’t lose you Jungwon.” you whispered out between pants. And this time when you looked into his deep brown eyes, you could finally decipher what they said. They declared his love and fear of losing you. But this time you didn’t dance around it. You faced the emotions head on, because now you finally had someone to love.

“Don’t get all mushy on me now sweetheart,” he said with a hint of his signature smirk in his voice, that now seemed to be something you could rely on no matter what.

Whatever this is, it isn’t perfect- far from it. But it's something that has been inevitable since you first saw the black haired man with his big boba eyes. And for a moment the tension lifted, and neither of you pulled away. You two stayed like that- close, vulnerable, and finally honest. It wasn’t easy and it definitely wasn’t perfect but it was real. And you knew that whatever came next, you would face it together.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Whispers of the underworld led you to this shining city. Monaco. But it wasn’t a whispering voice that had threatened you. No- Lloyd’s voice was firm and dangerous. ’You think your petty little agency will be able to protect your precious sister? I know where she is, I will get her- so have fun with your little lover boy while it lasts.’ and that's when the radio message had cut off.

Your agency was keeping your sister in lockdown. Apparently she knew something about a key? The key to unlock the Phantom Codex. Not just Lloyd but every criminal was racing to find her. You weren’t naive though. You knew there was only so much the agency could do. Criminals had their resources and they would stop at nothing for power.

That’s the reason your body was so tense as you leaned against the railing of the balcony. The shimmering city with its population of only the world’s most elite was alive this evening. The luxury and sports cars were lined up in front of the Casino de Monte Carlo. You had a clear view of the location where the Phantom Codex would be held. Lloyd apparently hadn’t let it out of his sight since the moment he got his hands on it. He had kept moving so no one could track him and steal his prized possession. Tonight he was here, and you had your sights set on it. Lloyd had no business with your sister and her information about the key if he didn’t have the Codex itself.

You practically jumped out of your skin when you felt his hands snaking around your waist. You grew even tenser before letting yourself bask in the way his lips moved slowly down your neck towards your shoulder. You weren’t accustomed to his affection but you had to say you weren’t complaining.

“You’re tense sweetheart,” he murmured when his mouth was right next to your ear. His breath fanning your skin, sent shivers down your spine.

“You were there Jungwon, he’s threatening her. My sister’s life is on the line..” you say as you stop his roaming hands. You had a really important mission to complete tonight. But he looked so damn irresistible when he stepped in front of you with the top buttons of his shirt undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, and his smirk on his pretty lips.

“Baby, you have to trust that the agency will do their part,” he said as his hands remained on your hips, his thumbs tracing small soothing circles.

“You know that bastard Jungwon. He has the resources and the nerve, if we don’t get the Codex this time then its not only going to be my sister-”

Jungwon rested his hands on your cheeks as he tilted your head so you looked him in the eyes. “Hey. We’re not losing. Not yet. And not ever. You’ve got me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to her– or you.”

The rational part of you wanted to argue, to remind him that you’d already failed too many times, but the way he looked at you, so steady so sure. It made the rational side of you crumble as you believed his promise. Before you could say another word, he leaned down, pressing a soft reassuring kiss to your lips.

You stiffened in surprise once again, still not used to this gentler side of Jungwon. It was worlds apart from the cocky, aggravating partner you had grown used to. And yet, you resolve softened as you kissed him back, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips when he pulled away.

“I’m telling you, I should be handed an award or something- no normal person can get you to shut up as fast as me,” he teased, his familiar grin returning.

You rolled your eyes but the faint color in your cheeks gave you away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you kissed me anyway.”

Before you could retort, the shrill beeping of the burner phone you’d been using for intercepting communication interrupted you. Jungwon let his hands drop from your cheeks as he grabbed it. His face grew serious as he watched the small screen.

He held up the phone for you to see, “Lloyd is on the move,” he muttered, snapping the phone shut. “Looks like our Codex is on the move too.”

You nodded, already slipping into your professional mode. “Let’s go.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The two of you were past all of the excitement and precarious bets of the casino, instead you were pressed behind a pillar. Lloyd and another criminal seemed to be having a meeting, maybe an alliance over the most powerful artifact in the world?

The air was filled with quiet but incriminating chatter as the two gave practiced smiles to each other. This was obviously going to end badly. So you planned to get the Codex and slip out before either of them noticed it was gone. It was almost time that the two powerful men would get up from the table to move to the bar. There was a sliver of opportunity when the Codex would be brought out by one of Lloyd’s men. Like you mentioned before- he wouldn’t let it out of his sight.

That would be the prime time where you could steal it right out of his dangerous hands and he wouldn’t even know till much later. That was the plan. The easiest, most simple plan. But there went Jungwon, with his killer instinct.

Right as the two men were about to move to the bar, some idiot criminal from the smaller leagues decided to get involved. You almost jumped in joy, this was perfect. All the focus was trained on that idiot and you and Jungwon could just slip in, get the Codex, and get out. You turned to tell Jungwon about the new plan- but when you turned to face him he was gone.

You cursed internally, you knew this would happen. Jungwon and his instinct, his need to do the right thing, his stupid moral compass. The criminal’s legs shook as he realized what a grave mistake he had made storming into the lion’s den. Jungwon though, didn’t seem to see the bigger picture. He stepped out from behind the marble pillar, his gun poised, he shot the two bodyguards that had the criminal in their grasp.

The criminal made a run for it but now the bullets rained onto you two. You forgot all about the Codex, in your mind now only one thought rang clear. Protect Jungwon. You lunged for him, pulling him back behind the pillar to shield him from the shower of hurt.

The men started making their way up the stairs but you were too fast. You grabbed Jungwon’s hand and pulled him behind you as you two ran for the window. The fall hurt, but not enough to forget the imminent danger the two of you would be in if you stayed here for any longer. You made a run for it and Jungwon wasn’t far behind. You were already fuming, this lead was very hard to find. It might even be your last one. Your last chance to protect your sister… After today’s events you knew Lloyd would try even harder to get to your sister. He didn’t want anything to hinder his progress to harness the power of the Codex.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

In the hotel room you were done. You had worked night and day for that lead, for what?? For Jungwon to help some charity case of a criminal? The tension followed the two of you inside like an unwanted guest. Every inch of you was radiating fury. Jungwon walked in behind you, quiet for once, knowing that the storm was about to hit.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you snapped, spinning around to face him. Your voice was sharp and your eyes set ablaze. “What were you thinking, Jungwon?!?”

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I couldn’t just leave him there. He would’ve been killed.”

“And because of that, we lost the Codex. Again!” you shot back, your voice ringing. The fear of losing your sister was becoming far too real for your liking and right now- the only person to blame in your mind was Jungwon. “Do you even realize what’s at stake here? Do you even care?”

“Of course I care!” he said, his voice finally rising to meet yours. “But I’m not going to stand by and watch someone die if I can stop it.”

You laughed bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “Great! You’re a hero. Congratulations!! Meanwhile Lloyd’s probably halfway across the world with the Codex. And you say that you can’t stand by and watch someone die?? Well that’s about to be my sister, and while you play the hero, I can’t even be there to save her life!”

Jungwon stepped closer, his jaw tight. “You think I don’t care about your sister? About the Codex? About you?”

“Actions speak louder than words Jungwon,” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “And your actions tonight told me that you’d rather play savior than focus on what actually matters.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice low and dangerous now. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like I don’t care. I’ve been right here with you, every step of the way. I’m the one who pulled you out of that explosion last week. I’m the one who's been patching you up after every mission.”

“And I’m the one who’s trying to keep us focused,” you snapped back. “You think I don’t see how reckless you are? How every time you're the one lets something slip, who makes us lose our lead?”

Jungwon took a step back, your words hitting him like a physical punch to the gut. “I’m doing my best, ___” he said, his voice quieter now but no less tense than before. “I’m not perfect, but I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough,” you said, your voice cracking. “We take so many lives everyday, it's our job. But you couldn’t let this one criminal die?? Even when my sister’s life is on the line??!”

There was a long pause, the weight of your words settling heavily between you two.

“You think I don’t know that?” he said finally. His voice was painstakingly raw. “You think I don’t feel that pressure every second of every day? That I don’t know if I screw up one more time, it’s all over?”

“Then why the hell do you keep screwing up?” you asked, your voice breaking now. You knew you were being unfair but you couldn't really bring yourself to care at the moment.

Jungwon looked away, his hands clenching at his sides. “Because I’m human, ___. I make mistakes. And yeah maybe I let my heart get in the way sometimes, but I’m not going to apologize for that.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Your heart? Is that what we’re calling it now??”

“Yes,” he said firmly, stepping closer again. “Because whether you want to admit it or not, I care about people. I care about you. And I’m sorry if that gets messy sometimes, but it's the truth.”

You froze, your breath catching. He cared… he cared for you. For a moment, you looked like you might say something but instead, you turned away, pressing your hands to your face. Rubbing your temple in frustration.

“This isn’t about me,” you said after a long pause, your voice muffled.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “It’s about us. About the mission. About everything we’ve been through together. And if you think for one second that I don’t care as much as you do, then you don’t know me at all.”

You dropped your hands, turning back once again to face him. Your eyes were glossy, your anger had faded away into something more vulnerable. “I don’t know if I did the right thing. I don’t know if kissing you was right. And I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you said quietly.

Jungwon was stunned for a bit, but he spoke again, his voice softer now. “You can. And you will. Because you’re the strongest person I know. And because I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

You shook your head, a stray tear escaping and slipping down your cheek. “You could’ve died tonight Jungwon. And for what? A stranger?”

“No, for doing the right thing.” He said simply.

You stared at him for a long moment, your emotions warred within you. Your undeniable care and love for Jungwon, and your worry for your sister and the millions of lives at stake. Finally you sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he said, stepping closer and gently reaching out to take your hand in his own. “Just trust me. Please.”

You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched yet again at his touch. You didn’t pull away, but you didn’t look at him either, closing your eyes and breathing slowly. “I’m tired of losing, Jungwon.”

His grip on your hand tightened. He felt some hope flicker within him. “We’re not going to lose. Not you, not your sister, not this mission. I promise you.”

You finally opened your eyes and met his eyes. They were desperate and apologetic. Your heart made your gaze soften and the tension eased for just a moment. But just as fast, you pulled your hand away, your brain taking over now. You were never too good at thinking with your heart anyway.

“Get some rest,” you said, your voice steadier but colder now. “We’ve got some serious work to do.”

You could almost see his heart shatter. But he didn’t say anything, he just watched as you walked farther away. Farther away from whatever you two had started, farther away from his grasp, farther from these complicated emotions. He sighed, running a hand through his hair again.

“Good talk,” he muttered to himself before slumping onto the couch, the weight of the mission— and your fractured partnership– weighing heavily on him.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You woke up in a daze as the incessant ringing of your laptop startled you out of your subconscious. You groaned as you sat up, the digital clock showed 4 A.M. You heaved your laptop from the bedside table and opened it. It showed a contact that looked suspiciously like… your sister??

You were suddenly wide awake as you accepted the call. “Hello? Sora? Is that you..?” you whispered. It looked like your sister, but her surroundings were dimly lit and she looked pale. Concern shot up inside you. “A-are you okay? Where is the agency keeping you?”

She was breathing hard, she looked around agitated, “Hey sis, slow down slow down. I’m okay- but I don’t have much time. I found something… about your Mrs. Kwon.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, Mrs. Kwon? Well she had been acting a bit on edge but this was a huge mission. Your voice wavered at her cautious tone and your chest tightened. “What’s wrong? And Sora, where are you? Did something happen?”

Sora hesitated before whispering, “I’m okay, I’m escaping from where the agency kept me. But Mrs. Kwon.. she’s planning to use it for herself.. I heard her talking about how the Codex would give her leverage over every agency in the world. She’s going to blackmail people, threaten them, and use it as a weapon to gain power. She doesn’t have the right intentions and she’s a dangerous woman with all that power already.”

Your mind reeled from the information, “No… that doesn’t make any sense. The agency, we’re supposed to stop people like Lloyd, not become like him. Mrs. Kwon hates people like him. She.. she wouldn’t do that.” But you knew that she could pull something like this off. Still.. It hurt. It hurt to finally find out that the organization you dedicated half your life to, thinking you were helping people, it actually was all a fluke.

Sora saw the confusion and the pit that was forming in your stomach. She sensed it through the screen. Her voice broke slightly. “I don’t think you know what’s really happening, _____. You can’t trust them, you can’t trust anyone. Please be careful. I’m scared for you.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. Still you manage to give her a reassuring smile that seemed uneasy anyway. “I’ll figure this out, Sora. Stay safe okay? I’ll take care of myself, I promise, and I’ll protect you too no matter what.”

Sora nodded and returned your smile before the screen went dark. You sat frozen, still stunned at the revelation, your mind spinning. The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in your gut. How could the place- no, the person you put so much trust into stab you in the back like this?? It was done, years of your life had been wasted away but you wouldn’t let Mrs. Kwon do this. You wouldn’t blatantly let her harm innocent people. In two quick actions, you grabbed the burner phone and took out the chip, crushing the feeble metal in your hand. Betrayal burned in the pit that had formed in your stomach, you would stop that crazy lady. No matter what.

You pushed open the adjoining door to Jungwon’s room. He was sprawled out on the bed, his chest rising and falling steadily, the faint glow of the moonlight casting soft shadows on his face. For a moment your breath hitched, he looked so peaceful, so ethereal, almost like an angel- but the memories from a few days ago started to rush in again. Your gaze went from starstruck to cold once more as you stepped closer to his bed.

“Jungwon,” you said quietly, but he didn’t stir.

You took a step closer as you gently nudged his shoulder. “Jungwon, wake up.”

He groaned as he rolled over to face you. His eyes were still closed though. “_____, if this is about my snoring again-”

“Get up,” you snapped, your voice cutting through his grogginess. How could he be talking about his obnoxious snoring right now?

He blinked up at you, his confusion quickly replaced with concern when he saw your expression. He was so attuned to your feelings… “What’s wrong?”

You crossed your arms, your jaw tight. “Sora called. She overheard something about the Codex and Mrs. Kwon.” you say as you sigh softly, the dread and betrayal still fresh in your mind.

Hearing about the Codex woke Jungwon up completely. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his expression serious now. “What did she say?”

You hesitated, your voice quieter now. God- even you couldn’t believe it yourself. “Mrs Kwon, she doesn’t want to destroy the Codex. She wants to use it— for blackmail, for power. Everything we’ve been through, risking our lives…. It's all been for nothing. It’s a lie Jungwon.”

Jungwon was shocked for a moment just as you were. His mouth opened but no words came out. You could see the gears turning in his head. Despite your recent… differences, you knew he had risked his life for it too. You knew he had been through what you had for the Codex. He felt the same way you did. He ran a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed, “are you sure about this?”

“She overheard it directly,” you say as you start pacing around the room, feeling restless. “And she told me not to trust anyone. Not the agency, not anyone.”

He leaned back against his hands, exhaling sharply. “Well that’s just great. So, we’re completely on our own now? I mean we can’t just go back there and ask Mrs. Kwon to stop being evil nicely right?”

You rolled your eyes at his childish words, you stopped pacing to shoot him a glare. “Pretty much. Which means we need to figure out what to do next.”

Jungwon observed you carefully. Your shoulders tensed, your eyes absolutely refusing to meet his voluntarily, and your not so gentle bite of your lip. “You’re still mad.” Jungwon voiced, softly.

You turned away from him but your shoulders were still tense. “Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice impossibly softer now, “I get it. I messed up. But right now, we’ve got bigger problems than my poor decision-making skills.”

“You think I don’t know that??” you snapped, spinning to face him. The fire now present in your eyes as you met his. “But I can’t just pretend everything’s fine when it’s not. You almost got us killed for some random criminal. And now Sora is out of any semblance of protection because of our stupid agency.”

He stood up. His expression was unreadable but a hint of determination lingered in his eyes as he approached you. “You’re right. I screwed up. But if there’s one thing you should know by now, it's that I’m not going to give up. Not on the mission. Not on people. And definitely not on you.”

Your breath hitched, damnit, he was making those stupid unnecessary nagging feelings bubble in your chest. But you quickly looked away as you spoke in an ice cold tone. “Don’t do this. Don’t make this about us Jungwon. This is about the mission. About Sora. About—”

“This is about everything,” he didn’t back down. Instead his tone was firm as he continued. “And whether you like it or not, we’re in this together. So, you can stay mad at me if you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”

You clenched your fists. You hated this, the way you even had to choose between your anger and the comfort his words provided. But even after all of what had happened- you could never bring yourself to hate him. “Fine. But don’t expect me to trust you like I used to.”

“I’ll earn it back” he said easily like it was the simplest thing in the world. His gaze never faltered either. And as much as you hated to admit it, in this uncertain time you were glad to have Jungwon there. At least you knew you had someone who would never tire of you. Who was there even if he made your blood boil.

You held his gaze as you challenged him silently. But he never backed down.. He never gave up on you. You broke away from his eyes as you sighed deeply. “We need a plan.”

Jungwon nodded. “Then let’s make one, yeah? Together.”

You didn’t respond but still silently sat down at the small desk to start mapping out your next move. You couldn’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye. For all his flaws, you knew one thing for certain— Jungwon would fight for you, for Sora, for this mission. And no matter how angry you were, part of you couldn’t help but feel grateful for that.

After destroying the chip in Jungwon’s burner phone too, you both sat down with your own laptops. It was time to dig, for a lead, for a radio message, for anything that would help.

It took a while, but after multiple hours of trying to find something- anything a lead popped up. Lloyd had become sloppy with one of his radio messages. He had said something about going underground for a while. His estate in Russia, no one would be idiotic enough to penetrate his heavily guarded and almost unreachable mansion…. Except the two of you of course.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The storm raged over the sprawling Russian estate, casting an ominous shadow over the towering walls and wrought iron gates. Lightning illuminated the sprawling mansion, its sharp spires cutting into the dark sky. Dark walls with crawling vines seemed to threaten and ward off anyone who dared to enter. Icy rain poured down in sheets as it soaked through the gear that adorned your body. The sound of thunder masked the faint rustle of movement as you and Jungwon crouched in the dense shadows near the perimeter.

“This place screams ‘villain lair’” Jungwon mutters, his breath annoyingly warming up the back of your neck. He adjusted the hood of his black jacket against the freezing rain.

“Focus,” You said sharply, your voice barely audible over the wind. You didn’t spare him a glance, your gaze fixed on the towering structure ahead. More specifically on the armed men who were about to exchange shifts in just a matter of minutes.

Jungwon sighed, casting a sidelong glance at you. “Wow you sound like you’re going to bite my head off. Personally, I think you should wait until after we grab the Codex to kill me, yeah?”

You didn’t respond. Pressing on to the side entrance you were going to infiltrate. It didn’t help that this was the most important mission of your life. The Codex was finally in your sight again. Not to mention that Sora was still on the move. No place was safe for her as long as the Codex was at large. It was also absurdly hard to get here after you had gone MIA from the agency. Mrs. Kwon seemed to have gone crazy because she stopped some of the most important missions to employ the agents to search for you and Jungwon.

But what was worse was the ever annoying tension. It was cold and biting like the air that howled around you two. You didn’t like to say that you held a grudge, but your anger still lingered like a storm of its own. And though Jungwon tried to break through it with his normal flattery and charm, you wouldn’t budge. Not yet.

You moved once again the moment the men turned their backs to change shifts. Stopping by the gate, you pressed yourself against the wall as you were met with the high tech digital lock. “This is it,” you whispered as you nodded to the door. The lock looked a bit advanced but it's nothing you couldn't handle. You knelt as you connected your hacking device into the lock. Your fingers were steady despite the icy rain that soaked through your gloves.

Jungwon knelt beside you, watchful eyes scanning their surroundings. “Still can’t believe you stayed mad this long. You know, if we die here, it’ll make for a tragic love story.”

You shot him a glare for bringing your personal relationships (or lack thereof) into the conversation. “If we die here, it’ll be because you can’t stop running your mouth.”

Not even a minute after the lock clicked. You pushed the door open and closed it just as the next guards arrived for their patrol.

The interior of the mansion was cold and dark, the air heavy with the scent of damp stone and expensive leather. You moved in silence, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet as you made your way towards the vault. You had to snicker at the hideous pictures of Lloyd that decorated the walls. Him in nothing but leopard fur, him showing off his (nonexistent) muscles, one with two girls fawning over him, and yet another where he was sitting on a pony?? Goes to show just how self centered he was.

You kept your focus sharp as you two sneaked silently towards the vault. You were blatantly ignoring how Jungwon’s presence at your side felt like both a comfort and an annoyance . You couldn’t afford to be distracted right now anyways.

Jungwon, for his part, stole glances at you whenever he could. The tension between you was eating away at him. He hated the thought that you didn’t trust him anymore. He thought about this every time, but today it felt more real. This mission could be your last, and he would hate to have that happen with you still angry at him.

The vault was hidden behind a bookshelf in one of the many studies this estate had. You had thoroughly researched beforehand. There shouldn’t be any people in this part of the estate right now. You turned to Jungwon abruptly as both of you got in place. Your tone was just the slightest bit accusatory as you gave him an unreadable look. “Once we are inside, you know the plan. No distractions, no detours.”

“Understood boss,” Jungwon said, his hands raising in mock surrender. The two of you tugged at the two dark blue books on each side of the study. There was some mechanical whirring behind the door, as it opened with a hiss. The huge metal vault sparkled at you, just the menacing door stood before you and the Codex now.

You ignored the jab and turned back to the vault door. It was protected by an intricate keypad and a biometric scanner. You pulled out the small device again as you started working once again. The gloves you wore would bypass the scanner no problem.

“Time’s ticking..” Jungwon murmured, his ears on high alert for any sound outside the closed study door.

“Almost… there” you said your voice tight with concentration.

The lock disengaged with a heavy click, and the vault door creaked open. Inside, the metal room glimmered with Lloyd’s wealth. Gold bars, stacks of cash, priceless artifacts, ancient jewelry, huge jewels. But at the center of the room, bathed in the glow of a single overhead light, was the long behold Phantom Codex.

The codex was exactly as you had remembered it. How could you forget the piece of tech that had basically ruined your life anyway? Obsidian black, diamond shaped, etched with glowing cerulean symbols. It seemed alive, faintly humming as you listened carefully. You had to shake your head so you didn’t get entranced like everyone had at the gala in Paris.

“There it is,” you whispered, your breath catching.

“Finally,” Jungwon said, carelessly stepping forward. But before he could even take a single step closer the floor detected his weight. In an instant, lasers shot from the walls as ear blasting sirens rang through the sound of the storm.

“MOVE!!” you shouted, as you dodged the lasers skilfully but Jungwon beat you to it. He snatched the Codex from the pedestal.

“I’ve got it, lets go!!” he yelled as the both of you could hear the thunder of the probably hundreds of guards all swarming to your location.

You both made your way outside the study. You could taste the adrenaline as the window in front of you taunted you. But this time you would do it. This was your escape, your victory.

Jungwon ran as fast as he could, his focus was on the window just the same as you. The pounding of boots and shouting of the men spurred the two of you to go even faster. You were just a few steps behind him.

That’s when you stopped. The bullet flew through the air as you felt time stop. Your eyes darted to Jungwon’s retreating figure, then to the guards that grew closer. The bullet pierced your abdomen. You felt the stinging pain, not from the blood that stained your gear– no. It was from the realization that this was it.

Still you didn’t care. Jungwon had secured the Codex, he would do what’s right. And you had to protect him no matter what. Instead of running to Jungwon, you turned your back to him. Facing the absurd amount of guards that closed in onto you. For Jungwon.

But while you tackled one guard to the floor, you knew it. There were way too many. You still placed a kick to another one as they surrounded you. You were sloppy, your movements too slow. Another guard grabbed your arm as suddenly, someone else lifted the butt of their rifle, bringing it down onto your back harshly. You felt pain through your entire being as you inevitably blacked out, watching the window shatter just like your freedom.

You fell unconscious. Your body crumpled.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Jungwon jumped through the window. The glass shards cutting his face as the rain immediately greeted him in the courtyard. He clutched the Codex tightly against his chest. He turned back, adrenaline and victory coursing through him. He expected to see you, standing victoriously beside him. That satisfactory smirk gracing your lips anytime you both succeeded in a mission.

But his heart dropped. There was no sight of you. He felt his blood run cold as his chest felt like it was caving in on him. No! This couldn’t be happening. He didn’t feel the tears stream down his face because of the rain that poured down onto him.

You were captured. Gone from his protection into Lloyd’s demonic hands. His hands shook as he held onto the Codex. He promised himself that he would get it for you. But not like this. Not at this cost. “DAMNIT!!” He yelled your name as his brain finally caught up with the events happening.

Fear for you clawed in Jungwon’s chest, but more than that white hot rage burned through him. So much so that it threatened to consume his whole being. The what-ifs of what Lloyd could do lingered in his mind for just a moment, but they disappeared the moment he imagined you at that bastard’s mercy. His hands clenched and his jaw set as he stared back at the estate. No rational thought in his mind. He couldn’t think of anything else– didn’t want to. The mission, the Codex, everything else blurred into insignificance. You were all that mattered.

Jungwon moved through the stone halls like a man possessed. He was soaked to the core but he didn’t once shiver. He let himself think with his instinct and his instinct alone. Something you probably would have reprimanded him for. But it was his instinct that was guiding him to you.

The guards who crossed his path didn’t stand a chance. Anyone who dared to move towards him was struck with precision and speed. His movements were raw and fueled by a fire that burned hot inside him. A punch to the throat, a kick to the ribs, a quick disarm— he left them crumpled in his wake, barely sparing them a second glance.

The Codex was clutched tightly in his hand. The dark obsidian surface shone with rain. Every time some stupid guard tried to grab it, he twisted away, taking them down before they could make a move. Like the big burly men were some flies he needed to flick away.

He was there, he was at the inner sanctum now. He was breathing hard and his gaze deathly. His focus never wavering.

The room where you were being held was flanked by at least ten guards. They stiffened at the sight of Jungwon, their weapons raised. But the sight of his gaze and rigid form struck fear into their hearts.

Jungwon didn’t slow down. “Get out of my way,” he growled out. His voice was low, dangerous, and shaking with rage.

The guards still stupidly didn’t budge.

Jungwon lifted the artifact that they all were after up high. “If you idiots don’t move. I’ll destroy this thing right here and now.”

The threat worked. The guards exchanged glances. Debating if they should really move and face Lloyd’s wrath or Jungwon’s. One of them moved and the others followed. Their eyes showed uncertainty but watching Jungwon move swiftly they knew they would have been done for if they hadn’t.

Jungwon almost broke the heavy wooden door down, his heart pounding as his eyes immediately sought you.

The room was dim, the occasional burst of lightning illuminating it. It was freezing cold and Jungwon observed how there were no guards inside. You were on your knees in the center of the room. Your hands tied behind your back in a rough grip that would leave your wrists red. Your hair was damp still, plastered to your forehead. But your expression remained fierce. Your head held high despite the position you were in. You refused to give in to Lloyd no matter what.

Your heart leaped in frustration and unbelievable relief as Jungwon burst through the door. It was so damn frustrating that he had done this, risked his life and the lives of so many others just for… you. Only for you. You couldn’t help but observe how rigid his form was. The moment he lifted his head to look at Lloyd, it scared you. You had never seen him this uncontrolled, this angry.

Lloyd was stood behind you with a gun pressed to the back of your head. His face split into a wicked, wide, mocking grin as Jungwon entered the room. The Codex sparkling blue in his grip.

“Well well,” he drawled, his voice oozing amusement. “The knight in shining armor returns. I must admit, I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come back for your little girlfriend.”

Jungwon’s gaze was locked on you. His fury only heightened once he saw how Lloyd was holding you at gunpoint. He shook his head as he straightened up. “You don’t understand what I’d do for her.” he said his voice barely audible but full of anger.

“Jungwon!! NO!!!” you shouted, finding your voice once again. “You shouldn’t be here!! Take the Codex and go!!” The shout made your bullet wound in your abdomen sting with unbearable pain, as you gritted your teeth.

Lloyd chuckled, amused by the little display. He menacingly nudged the barrel of the gun into your skull. “Listen to her boy. She’s smarter than you are.”

Jungwon ignored the both of you. His expression was hard, no one could tell what ran through his mind. His focus was entirely you. The grip he had on the Codex tightened. “Let her go, Lloyd!”

Lloyd almost laughed. He raised his eyebrows “and what position are you in to make that demand? Besides, why would I do that?? She’s quite the leverage. You hand over the Codex, or I blow her pretty little brains out.”

“Jungwon!!” you said in a warning tone, a certain urgency in your voice. “Don’t. Don’t give it to him. It’s not worth it. I did this so you could escape!! SO GO DAMMIT!!”

Jungwon’s heart clenched at the barely masked fear in your voice. His mind still pissed that you cared more about the stupid artifact more than yourself. How could you be so blind? You had to have known. To Jungwon, nothing mattered but you. “You want the Codex? Fine. Take it.”

“Jungwon no!!!” You yelled in vain.

He strode across the room and without hesitation, Jungwon tossed the Codex across the room. It landed at Lloyd’s feet, and the bastard’s grin widened.

“Ah~ the hero sacrifices everything for the damsel. How predictable.” Lloyd kicked the Codex aside and turned his evil eyes toward Jungwon again. “But you’re a fool if you think this ends well for you.”

He cocked the gun.

Jungwon moved before Lloyd could even think to pull the trigger.

With lightning speed, he lunged forward, grabbing a knife from his belt and throwing it with deadly accuracy. His fury at its peak, his vision completely red. The blade sank into Lloyd’s shoulder, forcing him to drop the gun and stagger back with a howl of pain.

You fell forward as the gun was wrenched away from him, landing hard on the cold stone tiles.

Jungwon couldn’t see anything but rage. He was already on Lloyd, tackling him to the ground and landing a flurry of punches. The sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the empty chamber. The only other sounds being Lloyd’s groaning and Jungwon’s labored breathing.

“THIS IS FOR HER!!” Jungwon growled loudly, slamming Lloyd’s head into the floor. The crack of his skull was loud and clear, but Jungwon didn’t seem to hear it. “For all the people you’ve made suffer. For everyone you’ve hurt. For everything you’ve done!”

Lloyd was done. He was lifeless, his body limp but Jungwon didn’t stop. Jungwon didn’t think of any intel, of what use he could have been. All he could think of was slamming his skull into the floor over and over and-

“Jungwon stop!” your voice cut through his haze of rage.

His eyes seemed to finally refocus as the anger slowly dissipated. His heart clenched when he looked over his shoulder at how you were struggling to your feet, your hands still bound.

“He’s done..” you said in a soft whisper. “We need to go.”

Jungwon’s chest heaved as he stared down at Lloyd, who was lifeless. After he scowled at him, his eyes narrowing, he nodded and stood. Pocketing the gun that laid close to Lloyd. He picked up the damned Codex before making his way towards you.

No words were exchanged between the two of you as Jungwon untied your hands with surprising gentleness. Considering how angry he had just been it was astonishing how he handled you like a porcelain doll. The moment that your hands were free, you threw your arms around him, burying your face into his strong chest. You felt an inexplicable amount of relief and warmth as you were finally able to wrap your arms around him once again.

“You… you’re an idiot, Yang Jungwon.” you whispered, your voice shaking as Jungwon felt you wet his jacket that he wore. He hugged you back tightly. His hands wrapped around your whole body as he pulled you close to him. You cursed as the pain shot up in your abdomen once more.

He immediately pulled back as his hands rested carefully on your hips, “___?? What’s wrong?” he said with big boba eyes that showed nothing but concern.

“I’m okay won, just got shot.” you told him, the smile on your face looking like an idiotic grin. The tears still shone bright in your eyes. You ran your fingers through his soft locks as your eyes darted trying to memorize every single detail of his beautiful face.

“Just???-” he was about to tell you off, when the door flew open. The remaining guards poured into the room, guns drawn and shouting commands in Russian.

You and Jungwon immediately broke apart, your instincts kicking in. Jungwon reached for Lloyd’s gun in his pocket while you ducked behind him, your sharp eyes scanning for an opening.

“We’re not out of this yet,” Jungwon muttered, his tone laced with a mixture of irritation and exhilaration.

You smirked at him despite the chaos. The dynamic between you two undeniably felt right again, “thought you liked dramatic exits.”

Jungwon tilted his head, just barely dodging a bullet that whizzed past. “That I do.”

Jungwon fired a few warning shots wildly into the air. Forcing the guards to take cover as the two of you darted for the hallway. The storm still raged outside but there was a hint of blue skies not too far from the gray clouds. Thunder rumbled as the pair of you sprinted through the sprawling mansion. The ache in your abdomen was still present but you could bear it, because the taste of freedom was too sweet.

“You could’ve reminded me about the cavalry!” Jungwon called out over his shoulder as you rounded a corner, narrowly avoiding another group of guards.

You scoffed, breathless but focused. “I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to actually throw the Codex to Lloyd, but here we are.”

Jungwon laughed, his sweet stupid laugh. It rang out in your ears the sweetest melody you’d ever heard. “Anything for you babe! You know that.”

You couldn't afford the butterflies raging within you, but god you couldn’t stop them either. Just like the foolish grin that spread across your face.

The hallways seemed endless, a labyrinth of opulent decor and deadly ambushes. Guards spilled out from doorways, but you and Jungwon moved in a seamless unit. You kicked a marble bust, sending it crashing into the path of the pursuers, while Jungwon threw his knife that found its mark in another guard’s leg.

Finally, the mansion’s main entrance came into view, its grand double doors flanked by a pair of guards. You didn’t slow down one bit though, your mind racing. You didn’t have a plan sure, but you had Jungwon and his killer instinct. “Left or right?” you hissed at Jungwon.

“Both,” his eyes twinkled as he veered right.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the burst of joy as you saw the look in his eyes. You darted to the left, sliding low as you kicked one guard’s feet out from under him. Jungwon tackled the other, knocking his weapon away before landing a solid punch to his jaw.

The doors were pushed open by the two of you as the storm had seemed to ease up a bit. Rain still softly pelted you as you bolted down the stone steps toward the row of motorcycles parked outside. You flipped off the estate in the background, the grin not leaving your face. “HA!! You bastards!!”

You let out a breathless laugh as the two of you mounted the Kawasaki Ninjas. You grinned at Jungwon, for the first time in a while feeling the thrill of freedom and success. “How’d you know I’d have these ready?”

Jungwon revved the engine, smirking at you, “Because you’re you.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means you're crazy detailed and brilliant as hell.”

Your stomach flipped at the unexpected sincerity in his tone, but there was no time to dwell on it. The two of you sped off into the night. Kicking back gravel and mud in your wake. Shots were being fired into the air but you were too far from the estate to worry about any of that.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The cool night air softly tousled your hair. The two roaring engines fell silent as the bikes came to a stop at a beach by the road. The two of you were far off the path of the storm and far enough away that Lloyd’s men weren’t catching up anytime soon. The air was biting at your skin but still it was calm. The only sound was the rhythmic crashing of the waves. The scene in front of you was truly breathtaking. Gray sands giving away to dark waves. Except the fact that the waves weren’t as black as they seemed. On occasion as some of them crashed onto the shore, they lit up to be an azure blue. Bioluminescence graced the waves curves and foam.

You had time to think. And while on the ride here you contemplated. Jungwon had done something foolish that had no guarantee of working out. But by some godly will it did. You couldn’t help but be just a bit pissed that you risked your life for him just for him to save you in the end. There was a small part of you that said to tell him off for it. Now that you were past the rush of adrenaline you could think clearly once more.

Jungwon had hopped off the bike shaking the water out of his hair. You couldn’t help but stop and stare for a second as he looked angelic. The moonlight illuminated his pale skin and the moon itself shone bright in his eyes. It’s like he was struck by the beauty of the moon. His broad shoulders tensed when he looked at you. Standing with your arms crossed and an unreadable expression on your face.

“I hope you know I’m not letting you off the hook. That was stupid what you did.” You say trying to sound stern but there was no real bite to your voice.

“I heard you loud and clear the first time.” He said with a chuckle leaning casually on his bike.

You huffed at his nonchalant attitude as you strode towards him. You poked his chest hard. “You threw the Codex at Lloyd like a fool! Do you realize how reckless that was?? You-“

“Saved your life?” He interrupted. His hand laced his fingers with yours as he leaned in closer. His voice dropped to something deeper, more serious.

You were frozen in place. It’s like your brain shut off once again when his hand was grasped in yours. He was way too close too. You could see the soft shadows so his eyelashes and his deep dimple poked out as he smirked. You opened your mouth to say something but the words died on your lips. He was right, he had saved your life. Again. You hated when he was right- you were supposed to be the smart one. You stared at him as your heart pounded for reasons you couldn’t entirely blame on anger.

“You put the entire world in danger,” you whispered, as if saying anything louder would break this perfect moment. “For me.”

His smirk softened into a smile as he brought his other hand up. Tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. His hand lingered for just a moment too long. He stared at you with so many emotions you couldn’t decipher them all. “Baby… you are my world.”

Your breath hitched. You were rendered completely speechless. The only sound was the waves beating on the shore and the thump of your heartbeat. The petname, the way his hand was still in yours, the way his eyes softened just for you. You didn’t think anymore, letting your instincts take over. Just like he would have done.

You grabbed him by the collar of his jacket as you stared into his moonlit eyes before your gaze landed on his lips. You shoved him against the side of his parked bike.

“You’re impossible.” You muttered, but the way your lips twitched threatening a smile betrayed your resolve.

“And you love it” jungwon managed to shoot back. His grin faltered the moment you pulled him down by his collar.

Your lips met in a collision of fire and fury, a kiss born of unspoken emotions and pent-up tension. It wasn’t soft or tentative; it was deep, desperate, and raw. The way your mouths moved in sync like they were trying to make up for lost time. The kiss was sure and firm.

His lips were soft, plump, and pillowy just as you had remembered them. You couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t missed him. The way he slightly smiled into the kiss. His tongue darting out to trace the outline of your lower lip.

His hands found your waist. Making sure to be extra careful that he didn’t irritate the wound on your abdomen. But the way he slightly tightened his grip when his tongue finally entered your mouth, he was holding on like you might slip away again if he lets go.

Your hands were in his dark and damp locks as your knuckles curled around his soft hair. You tugged slightly, earning a low groan from him that vibrated against your mouth. The sound makes shivers run down your spine.

You pressed him harder against the bike. Your body molded to his in a way that felt like you were trying to crawl into his skin. His hands roamed over your back as he traced soft patterns, grounding you like an anchor in the moment.

“Jungwon-“ you whined when he pulled away for a breath. The sound only made him cup your cheek as he angled your head while he went in again. You couldn’t resist whimpering against his mouth when he caressed your cheeks with so much tenderness you could melt.

It wasn’t just a kiss— it was a release, a declaration, an unspoken promise. The world faded into the background, nothing seeming to matter more than the two of you right now. It only left the two of you, connected in a way that felt inevitable.

When you finally pulled apart, your breaths came in ragged gasps. Your forehead rested against his and your hands remained on his shoulder. You looked into his eyes. And you knew this was right, you’d never felt anything more intense than this. You needed Jungwon and the way he stared right back at you, you knew he needed you too.

“You drive me up a wall Jungwon. Don’t ever scare me like that again.” You whispered. Your voice breaking.

Jungwon chuckled softly as he ran his thumb over your cheek with love in his eyes. His own breathing uneven, “no promises.”

You stayed like that for a few moments. Wrapped up in each other. Just enjoying the other’s presence and touch. But you stepped back slowly, your hands trailing down Jungwon’s built chest before falling to your sides. Your gaze dropped to the object that stuck out of his pocket— the Phantom Codex, its dark, intricate surface glinting in the moonlight.

You slipped it out of his pocket. Staring at some stupid piece of tech that almost ruined your life and the lives of many more innocent people. The blue hue that it exuded along with the faint whisper of the symbols moving were almost trying to convince you to stop. But without hesitation you held it up in the air before slamming it against the asphalt with all your strength.

It was done. The Codex shattered into a million pieces, shards scattering across the sand. The sound echoed briefly before being swallowed by the night.

You straightened your posture as you turned to Jungwon. It was gone. Your sister was free and Mrs. Kwon’s evil plan had come to a halt. Your eyes were a mix of joy, fierceness, and determination.

“It’s over.” You stated simply.

Jungwon nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. He slipped his hand on your shoulder as he pulled you close once again. His lips brushed against the crown of your head. “It is.”

You had to gasp softly as the horizon began to blush with the first rays of dawn. Jungwon’s arm fell as he stared in awe at the world slowly emerging once again from the embrace of the night. The golden light stretched over the waves, illuminating the water in hues of pink and gold. The storm had long passed, and the gentle breeze carried the salty tang of the sea. The world was quiet, peaceful.

You felt the breeze nip at your skin as you hugged your arms around yourself. Jungwon noticed and he silently draped his jacket over your shoulders. You glanced at him, your lips curving into a small smile you didn’t bother hiding.

“You’re really laying it on thick aren’t you?” You teased, still pulling the jacket closer.

“Can you blame me?” Jungwon replied with a grin. He stepped closer to you standing by your side with his hands in his pocket like he wasn’t just making out with you a minute ago. “It’s not everyday I get to watch the sunrise with the love of my life who happens to be the woman who also saved the world.”

You tried to hide your blush but it crept up on you anyway. Your smile softened as your gaze returned to the horizon. The rising sun painting your face with warmth. You looked like you were glowing to Jungwon. But even with the warmth your thoughts were heavy. “We didn’t save the world- there is no saving it. We just stopped it from getting worse.”

“Same difference,” Jungwon said lightly. “And we’re not done yet.”

You nodded, your eyes scanning the open sea that stretched in front of you. “We’re on the run now. The agency won’t stop hunting us”

Jungwon smirked. Hid confident aura returning, “let them try princess. We’ve outsmarted Lloyd and destroyed the Codex. What’s a few corporate nerds?”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped your lips. “You really don’t know how to take anything seriously, do you?”

“Not true,” he said, stepping even closer as his voice softened,. “I take us seriously.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked away desperately trying to hide the blush and idiotic grin that threatened to break. “Don’t get all sappy on me now.”

“Too late.” He grinned , reaching out to brush some hair out of your face. “____, we’re free now. No rules, no lies, no one pulling the strings but us. We can make a real difference, fight the way we want to fight.”

Your expression shifted, the weight of his words settling over you. For years, you had operated within a system that used people like tools. Simply sacrificing lives for power plays. Now, standing here with the man who had saved you from danger and yourself multiple times, you felt the stirrings of something your prior life hasn’t allowed: hope.

The sun crept higher. It’s light washing away the remnants of the night, and with it, the shadows of your past.

“If we are going into this chaotic world of crime, corrupt organizations, and horrible people. I’m glad you’re the one I’m doing this with.” Jungwon said suddenly.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears as you grinned like an idiot. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me Jungwon.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as you took him in again.

“No one I’d rather be with,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

It was morning now. The sun had finally risen. The path ahead was clear despite the dangers that lurked at every turn. The rays washed both of you in warmth as your lips met for the nth time. Your life had only just begun, and it was going to be a wild ride.

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unoisveimved-un-proffesional · 11 hours ago

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Well some of us aren't 12 anymore and hate to walk through the shit to. Hate to shovel it and hate all the trouble washing snow gear is. I hate when it builds up and you forget to knock it off your roof so it breaks and slides down and it's wet and freezing everywhere. I hate when I tumble down a hill and it gets in my coat. I hate when it gets in my boots and gets my socks wet. I hate that it's cold enough to stick to things but not substantial enough to not melt and soak them instantly. I hate how easily sick you can get touching it. Southerners get to have just 3 months to enjoy it, I have to deal with it for double that. The snow nearly depleted my soul from my body plenty of times. I used to love playing in the snow too, love watching it fall, I still like watching it fall from my window and outside, but you don't have to outwardly express love for everything all the time, that's exhausting, and sometimes things are exhausting and get on your nerves, and it's not because you're a fun hating grinch, it's because you're just tender, sensitive, tired, stressed and worried and already thinking about so many other things, having to think about tomorrow and what you're expected to do and have to do for the sake of yourself and others. I don't even have a car anymore but I still find the snow cumbersome and extra work because it's hard enough getting anywhere and dealing with life without having to trudge, trudge, trudge through the snow for it. Life's a bitch, and the snow doesn't make it easier. It's pretty but at the end of the day it's not going to keep me alive, and standing around gawking at it is gonna get you passed by, left behind, and snow will kill you just like everything else in nature.

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 days ago

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P*rn ☆ Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

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'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you.

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.'

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.'

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.'

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.'

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.'

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow.

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.'

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.'

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.'

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down.

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement.

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it.

'So?'

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara.

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?'

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.'

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.'

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To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression.

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that.

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right.

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow.

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant.

And a switch flicks in your head.

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him.

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.'

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you.

'You know Tara?' You nod.

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway.

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second.

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully.

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The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start.

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content.

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did.

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy.

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky.

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition.

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would.

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips.

And then he presses record.

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endearng · 2 days ago

Text

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast.

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze, “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness.

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?”

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud.

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

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