#i think i love her more than i love anything in this entire world
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
Hii! I was thinking maybe like a alexia!player reader who is also good at singingđ and have it inspired by âperfect to meâ Bradley Marshall- and itâs like the lead up to their wedding? And she surprises alexia with this song she sings during their first dance? And you could maybe showing them asking for bridesmaid etc?đ«¶đŒ
Hiiii - so this request is so stinking cute but I've changed it slightly to make it a little more private moment between them. I kinda did it as snapshots of just after the proposal, the day before the wedding and then just after the wedding (so the wedding isn't included if that makes sense)
You Are The Music In Me
Alexia Putellas x Reader
Description: You gift Alexia something very special for your wedding
Word Count: 4k
ugh she's so pretty wtf
Alexia was fairly sure you could sing. Sheâd picked up on it in the most casual, unassuming moments â like when she noticed you humming along under your breath to the music you played while making dinner. Your voice would weave in and out of the melody, blending effortlessly with the rhythm of your cooking. It was a subtle, soothing accompaniment that made the kitchen feel more like a concert hall.
Then there were the times when sheâd catch those docile tones drifting through the bedroom as you sang softly while you were in the shower. Even with the sound of the water cascading down, your voice managed to pierce through, delicate yet clear. It was as if the steam and tiles amplified your singing in an intimate, private performance.
And letâs not forget the car rides. Sheâd often hear you softly harmonise with the radio while you drove, your fingers tapping the steering wheel in perfect time with the beat. Your voice would seamlessly blend with the music, an effortless harmony that spoke of a deep, natural musicality.
Despite these subtle but telling glimpses into your talent, every time Alexia tried to coax you into singing out loud â into letting your voice be heard beyond those private moments â you would shy away. Youâd offer a sheepish smile and dismiss her encouragement with a casual wave of your hand, as if to brush off the compliment and the request. It was clear that your singing was a cherished secret, something you shared only with yourself and the music, never quite ready to fully unveil it to the world.
It was the one thing Alexia had never managed to persuade you to do, no matter how gently she tried or how earnestly she asked. Your singing remained an elusive treasure to her.
-----
âYes,â The single word was filled with all the love and commitment you had been feeling. It was a quiet but profound. âYes, yes, Alexia. Yes, I will marry you. Oh my god.â As the words left your lips, you couldnât help but laugh, the sound mingling with the tears that began to well up in your eyes.
Alexiaâs face lit up with an ecstatic smile that seemed to brighten the entire room. Her eyes glistened with tears of joy, mirroring your own emotions. The ring she had so thoughtfully chosen was nothing short of breathtaking.
As Alexia gently slid the ring onto your finger, you were filled with a sense of disbelief and elation. The reality of what was happening sank in â you were about to marry the love of your life, the person who had become your everything. You pulled Alexia up to standing, her hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She leaned down, pouring her emotions into a passionate kiss.
The world could have ended for all you knew. In that perfect, suspended moment, nothing outside of this bubble of joy seemed to matter. The stars could have fallen from the sky, the ground could have crumbled beneath your feet, and the cosmos itself could have unravelled, and it wouldnât have made a difference. All that was important, all that filled your heart and mind, was Alexia. The person who meant more to you than anything or anyone else. She was perfect, with a kindness that touched everyone she met and a sweetness that made even the simplest moments feel extraordinary. She was your Ale â your love, your confidante, your everything.
As you held her close, her breath warm and soft against your lips, she whispered, âVoy a ser tu esposa.â Her voice was filled with wonder and affection, the words barely more than a breath.
You couldnât help but giggle, your joy spilling over into laughter as you responded, âThatâs generally how this works, Ale.â Your voice was light and teasing, infused with the happiness that bubbled up from the very core of your being.
Alexiaâs eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and reverence. âLo sĂ©, mi niña descarada,â she said, rolling her eyes with a dramatic flair that made you both laugh. âBut I get to be your wife,â she continued, her voice filled with awe and deep emotion. The words carried a profound sense of joy and disbelief, as if she was marvelling at the dream she had just realised.
âAnd I get to be yours. Mrs Putellas. Forever and ever,â you exclaimed gleefully, the words spilling out with an almost childlike delight. Your heart swelled with the excitement of your new identity.
With a burst of energy and joy, Alexia swept you up into her arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around in a joyful, impromptu dance. The movement was exhilarating and exhilarating, a physical manifestation of the happiness and excitement you both felt. As she twirled you around, the world seemed to blur into a whirlwind of laughter, love, and unrestrained bliss. The moment was electric, filled with the pure, unfiltered joy of two people deeply in love, celebrating the beginning of a lifetime together.
âIf only we had some music ⊠we could practice our first dance,â Alexia mused, her voice filled with a dreamy, whimsical tone. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she envisioned the romantic moment, the thought of dancing together under the soft, flickering light of the candles adding an extra layer of enchantment to the already magical evening. She spun around slightly, her gestures playful and full of anticipation.
You chuckled softly, shaking your head in mock disbelief. âIâm not singing, Ale,â you replied, a hint of playful defiance in your voice. The idea of serenading her, especially in this intimate, perfect moment, seemed both amusing and slightly daunting.
Alexiaâs eyes widened in exaggerated shock, and she gasped dramatically. âEven after I just proposed to you?â she asked, her voice laced with faux indignation. Her reaction was a perfect blend of surprise and playful reproach. The sparkle in her eyes and the mischievous smile tugging at her lips made it clear that she was teasing, enjoying the playful exchange.
You laughed, your heart swelling with affection at her charming display. âIs that why you did it? Just to hear me sing?â you teased, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. Alexiaâs face softened into a genuine smile as she took your hand in hers, the laughter in her eyes mingling with the deep love and joy she felt. The look she gave you was one of adoration, filled with all the warmth and sincerity that came with her deep feelings for you.
âEh, there were some other reasons as well,â she teased, her tone light
âOh really, like what?â you asked, leaning in closer, eager to hear more. The curiosity in your voice was genuine, as if you were hanging on every word she said, fully invested in whatever she was about to say.
Alexiaâs smile grew even softer, and she looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. âLike the fact that I am desperately, hopelessly, totally in love with you.â
-----
You had decided to go the traditional route of not seeing each other before the wedding. It wasnât necessarily your first choice, but Alexia had asked for it and you would move mountains for that woman if she asked you to.
When Alexia had expressed her wish to follow this tradition, her eyes shining with a blend of excitement and sentimental longing, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of devotion. Although the idea of spending those final hours apart was not what you would have chosen for yourself, her happiness and the fulfilment of her wishes were far more important to you. You knew that this was a special request for her, something that would make her feel even more cherished and treasured on your wedding day.
You had come to a compromise of enduring 24 hours apart, a span of time that felt both unbearably long and exhilaratingly brief. Those 24 hours seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with a palpable sense of anticipation and yearning. Every minute apart was marked by a mix of excitement and a longing to be reunited. The separation, though challenging, was a testament to your commitment and dedication to making this moment as special as possible for Alexia.
The hours seemed to crawl by, each one underscoring the significance of what was to come. The anticipation of seeing Alexia in her wedding dress, the thought of her walking down the aisle towards you, and the sheer joy of finally being together again made every second of waiting worthwhile. Each tick of the clock was a reminder of the love and devotion that bound you together, making the eventual reunion even more poignant and memorable.
You had decided to leave her a little gift, a gesture that was both sentimental and deeply personal. After much thought and searching, you managed to find an ancient old Walkman â a vintage piece that seemed almost nostalgic in its own right. It wasnât easy to track down, and the search had taken you quite some time, but the effort was well worth it for the joy it would bring.
The Walkman was a relic from a bygone era, a classic cassette player that symbolised a touch of nostalgia and a personal connection to simpler times. You knew that Alexia would appreciate its charm, especially given her love for vintage items and the meaningful gestures that spoke to her heart. Along with the Walkman, you had prepared a CD loaded with carefully selected songs. Each track was chosen with love and intention, representing a soundtrack to your shared moments, memories, and dreams.
You carefully placed the Walkman and the CD in a beautifully wrapped box, leaving a note for her, explaining what she needed to do.
Bon vespre, amor meu, Less than 24 hours and you will be my wife. Listen to this alone â it will take 20 minutes to listen to the whole thing. Sleep well, my love Te amo con todo mi corazĂłn Your soon to be wife, x Ps. Listen to it when you arenât wearing any makeup
Alexia had never regretted anything more in her life. It wasnât the fact that she was marrying you; in fact, she saw that as the greatest achievement of her life, a dream come true that filled her with boundless joy and anticipation. No, what she deeply regretted was having asked to spend the last few hours before your marriage apart. The separation, meant to heighten the emotional impact of your reunion, instead left her feeling a profound sense of longing and melancholy. She missed your presence more than she could have anticipated, and the anticipation of being together again only intensified her regret.
The box was elegantly adorned with a ribbon, and even from across the room, Alexia could spot your handwriting on the attached tag. The familiar, personal script instantly brought a flutter of excitement to her heart.
Unable to contain her emotions, Alexia felt a wave of embarrassment at the speed with which she moved towards the desk. Her steps quickened, almost as if the box was a beacon guiding her through the haze of her separation. The anticipation of what lay inside the gift was palpable, and she couldnât help but feel a rush of relief and joy at the thought of connecting with you through this special token.
When she finally peered inside, her eyes widened in recognition and delight. Sitting in front of her was a black Walkman, an object reminiscent of the one she had used as a child to listen to her favorite music. The sight of it instantly evoked a wave of nostalgia, transporting her back to simpler times when life was filled with the comforting sound of music through her Walkmanâs headphones. The vintage device, so carefully chosen and wrapped, was so obviously from you, even without the note.
She carefully fished out the headphones that you had thoughtfully included with the Walkman and felt a fresh wave of excitement wash over her. The headphones, compact and classic, were a perfect match for the vintage device. They were delicate, with soft cushioning around the earpads that promised a comfortable fit, and their design mirrored the nostalgic charm of the Walkman itself.
With a mixture of curiosity and eagerness, Alexia moved to the bed, where she could sit comfortably and fully immerse herself in the experience. The bed was adorned with plush pillows and a cozy blanket, creating a serene and intimate space where she could enjoy this special moment. As she settled onto the soft surface, her fingers gently caressed the Walkman and its accompanying headphones, appreciating the careful attention to detail that had gone into choosing and preparing this gift.
She placed the headphones over her ears, adjusting them to fit snugly, and then turned her attention back to the Walkman. With a sense of anticipation, she inserted the CD into the device, the familiar click of the mechanism echoing in the quiet room. The action was filled with a sense of ritual and connection, as if every step of the process was a way of drawing closer to you, despite the physical distance.
As she pressed play, Alexia was momentarily startled by the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat. The noise, though gentle, cut through the quiet room and brought her attention sharply back to the Walkman.
The voice that followed made her heart skip a beat. âHola, mi casi esposa,â you greeted warmly. Even after all the years spent living in Barcelona, your Spanish still carried that charming, endearing lilt that never failed to make her smile. âItâs me, your almost wife. In case you couldnât tell,â you added with a soft, playful giggle that was instantly recognisable and filled with affection.
The sound of your voice, so delicate and infused with happiness, immediately lifted Alexiaâs spirits. The sincerity and warmth in your tone were like a soothing balm, easing the pangs of separation she had been feeling. Your voice was a comforting reminder of your love and the special connection you shared, making the separation feel a little less daunting.
She listened intently as you continued, your words carrying a mixture of playfulness and guilt. âSo, I know we said no wedding presents, but I couldnât not.â The confession was tinged with a touch of sheepishness, and Alexia could easily picture your expression â a sly smile accompanied by a slight blush as you admitted to breaking the agreement you had both made. The image of you, trying to hide your excitement and affection while going against the agreed-upon rules, brought a soft, knowing smile to her face. It didnât matter that you had gone against your promise, you would get back from your evening meal to find a similarly wrapped present waiting for you, Alexiaâs own handwriting on a note just for you to read.
âAnyways,â your voice continued softly, âthere are a few songs on here that make me think of you and our life together so far. Each one holds a special memory or a moment weâve shared, a soundtrack to our journey together. I hope you enjoy them as much as Iâve enjoyed putting this together for you. But just know, above all, that I love you to the ends of the earth and I cannot wait to marry you.â
As your voice carried the sweet promise and deep affection, Alexia felt a lump form in her throat. âSweet dreams, my beautiful girl. T'estimo molt,â you added, the endearing words resonating with warmth and sincerity. The intimacy of the message, coupled with the sound of your voice, made her heart swell with emotion.
Alexia struggled to blink back the tears that had suddenly welled up in her eyes, their warmth streaming down her cheeks. The first song began to play, its melody a tender echo of your love and the moments you had shared. Each note seemed to intertwine with the feelings of longing and joy that she had been experiencing, amplifying the emotional impact of your heartfelt message. The music, now a bridge between your hearts, made the separation feel less daunting and the anticipation of your union even more poignant. The combination of your loving words and the carefully chosen songs created a beautiful moment of connection, making her feel profoundly loved and cherished as she prepared to drift off to sleep with the comforting thought of your upcoming marriage.
As the final song faded, your voice appeared again.
âOne final song, my love. And then itâs time for bed, I need you well rested for tomorrow,â you giggled sweetly. âYou are absolutely perfect for me, Alexia Putellas Segura. There isnât anything I wouldnât do for you. I would give my lungs if you needed to breathe, or the light if you canât seem to find it. I should probably save this for my vows, but I promise to make you laugh every day until weâre old and have grey hair and need a stairlift.â
You cleared your throat again, the sound small but deliberate. As the initial notes of a piano began to play softly, Alexia held her breath in eager anticipation. Then, your voice emerged, breaking through the gentle accompaniment with a tender, melodious clarity.
From the very first note, she was captivated. Your voice was nothing short of enchanting, possessing a pure, ethereal quality that seemed to lift the air around her. It was as though a choir of angels had descended to serenade her, each note resonating with a sublime harmony that touched her soul deeply. The emotion in your singing was palpable, each phrase imbued with love and tenderness that transcended the physical distance between you.
Listening to you sing for the first time was an overwhelming experience for Alexia. The sound of your voice, rich and warm, wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, soothing the ache of separation with its intimate and heartfelt expression. It was as if every word you sang was meant just for her, a musical love letter that conveyed the depth of your feelings and the profound connection you shared.
The pianoâs melody danced beneath your voice, creating a perfect backdrop that enhanced the beauty of your singing. Each note seemed to echo the emotions you had shared in your message, amplifying the feelings of joy, longing, and affection. Alexia found herself completely absorbed in the moment, the combination of your voice and the music creating a magical, almost surreal experience.
As the song progressed, Alexiaâs heart swelled with a mix of awe and affection. The tears that had been brimming in her eyes now flowed freely, a testament to the emotional impact of your performance. The beauty of your voice and the personal nature of the song made her feel incredibly close to you, despite the physical distance. It was a profound reminder of the love that awaited her and the shared journey you were about to embark on together.
-----
âAre you happy, amor?â Alexia asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of nervousness and vulnerability. She stood above you, her elegant dress rustling softly as she fidgeted with the fabric, her fingers betraying the anxiety she was feeling despite her radiant smile.
You cracked an eye open, intending to tease her, but the earnest concern in her eyes made you pause. âAlexia Putellas, you did not just ask me if I am happy on my wedding day?â The question was playful, but beneath the teasing tone, you could sense a deeper emotional undercurrent.
Alexiaâs eyes widened, and she bit her lip, clearly anxious. âSo ⊠you have no remordimientos? No, whatâs the phrase ⊠um ⊠c-coldâŠâ She hesitated, searching for the right words.
âCold feet?â you asked, a small laugh escaping you despite the sincerity of the moment.
âSĂ, no cold feet?â She looked down at you nervously, her teeth sinking into her lip as she scanned your face
âAle, where is this coming from?â
She took a deep breath, her gaze never leaving yours. âI donât want you to regret marrying me. I do not think I could take it if you did.â The confession was delivered with such raw honesty that it tugged at your heartstrings.
You reached out, gently taking her hands in yours, feeling the slight tremor in her fingers. âAle, you are the absolute love of my life. I stood up in front of all our friends and family and promised you that I will love you until my dying breath, and probably long after that too.â
Your voice was steady and filled with unwavering conviction. âThereâs no question, no doubt in my mind. This day, the promise I made, this life weâre starting together is everything Iâve ever wanted. Thereâs no room for regrets, only endless love and joy.â
Seeing the relief flood over Alexiaâs face, you pulled her into a tender embrace. The warmth and sincerity of your words seemed to melt away the last traces of her apprehension, replacing it with a profound sense of reassurance.
âAs you held her close, Alexia's shoulders relaxed, and she nuzzled into the comfort of your embrace. âIâm sorry, amor,â she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. âI just ⊠I had a dream last night. It was about something MapĂ said years ago, something about how some people donât realise they didnât want to get married until they are actually in the midst of it. And, and, and I donât even know why it popped into my head last night, but it did, and I just needed to make sure that you donât regret marrying me.â Her words tumbled out in a rush, her accent thicker than usual
Your heart ached at the sight of her distress, understanding how deeply this fear had affected her. You cupped her face gently, lifting her chin to meet your gaze. âAle, I could never, ever regret marrying you. You are my best friend, the love of my life, my person.â The certainty in your voice was unwavering, each word imbued with the depth of your commitment and affection. âThereâs nothing that could ever change how I feel about you. I chose you, now and forever, and nothing will ever make me question that decision.â
Alexia nodded, her blonde curls bouncing softly with each movement, creating a delicate halo of warmth around her face. Her eyes, filled with affection and vulnerability, met yours. âTe amo mi esposa,â she murmured, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that made your heart swell with love.
You smiled warmly, feeling a wave of tenderness wash over you. âAnd I love you, my beautiful, if not a little silly sometimes, wife.â The playful comment brought a soft roll of her eyes, a gesture that only made you love her more. Her playful exasperation was part of what made your relationship so special â each quirk and each moment of shared humor was a testament to the deep bond you both cherished.
With a gentle sigh, she looked at you with a mix of hope and anticipation. âWill you sing for me?â she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. The request was simple but filled with the intimacy and closeness of your shared moments. It was a tender plea for comfort and connection, and it touched you deeply.
You nodded with a reassuring smile, understanding the comforting power of a familiar song. âLetâs get into bed, baby,â you said softly, guiding her gently toward the bed. âIâll sing you a lullaby, yeh?â
#woso community#woso x reader#woso#barca femeni x reader#woso fanfics#barca femeni#woso blurbs#woso imagine#woso oneshot#fc barcelona#woso one shot#woso fic#barca women#barcelona femeni x reader#barcelona femeni#barcelona women#barça femeni x reader#barça femeni#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#espwnt x reader#espwnt
266 notes
·
View notes
Text
Marigold margins
Chapter two
Ceo!Tim Drake x assistant fem!reader
Notes: hammered this out when I was supposed to be sleeping! Also I'm twenty now :0! Not beta read this time so excuse any grammar errors. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Tell me what you think! I love to hear your thoughts
Warnings: talk of the loss of a parent, toxic work environments, talk about how a sugar daddy relationship can be toxic (not in this one tho!), referenced past cheating (all my homies hate Josh and Alexia), straight up attempted murder (cause that bitch knows you don't know how to swim), sickeningly sweet love confessions, Thomas being a bit of a cockblock but we love him.
Word count: 10k
Rating: T
Playlist
The restaurant was a world apart from anything you'd experienced before. Gotham's most exclusive Vietnamese restaurant wasn't just a dining establishment â it was a temple of culinary artistry. Crystal chandeliers cast soft golden light over tables draped in pristine white linens, each setting a carefully curated masterpiece of silver and crystal.
You felt like an imposter.
Your pale yellow dress â the nicest thing in your wardrobe, carefully selected after three panicked phone calls to your sister â suddenly felt woefully inadequate. The other patrons looked like they'd stepped out of a high-fashion magazine, all carefully tailored suits and designer jewelry that probably cost more than your entire year's rent.
The hostess â impossibly elegant in a tailored red silk uniform that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe â looked you up and down with a gaze that made you want to shrink into yourself.
"Name?" Her tone was crisp, professional, and utterly intimidating.
"I'm, um, here with Timothy Drake?" The words came out as a question, your confidence evaporating under her scrutiny.
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. "I don't believe we haveâ"
"There you are." Tim's voice cut through your mounting anxiety like a warm knife through butter. He appeared beside you, immaculate in a charcoal suit that looked like it had been tailored by angels. His hand settled on the small of your back â warm, reassuring, possessive.
The hostess's demeanor changed instantly. "Mr. Drake, your table is ready. Right this way."
You found yourself guided through the restaurant, feeling like you were floating. Tim's touch was steady, grounding you even as your mind raced. The other diners seemed to part like a sea, heads turning in recognition.
"Sorry about traffic," you mumbled, fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of your dress.
Tim leaned in, his breath close to your ear. "I could have sent a car," he murmured. "One of the company's autonomous vehicles would haveâ"
"And that," you interrupted, finding a spark of your usual banter, "would be even more unprofessional than this, Mr. Drake."
The nickname made his eyes dance with amusement. "We're not at the office," he said, pulling out your chair with a fluid motion that spoke of years of practiced elegance. "Just Tim. Please."
As you sat, you couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between you. Tim moved through this world like he was born to it â which, technically, he was. You, on the other hand, felt like an actress who'd wandered onto the wrong set.
The menu was a work of art, more like a leather-bound book than a list of dishes. Golden-edged pages revealed delicacies you'd only read about, prices conspicuously absent â a sure sign that if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.
"Have you ever had real Vietnamese cuisine?" Tim asked, his menu folded casually beside his plate.
You shifted uncomfortably. "Define 'real'?"
His laugh was soft, meant only for you. "Not from a food truck or a strip mall restaurant."
"Hey," you mock-protested, "those are cultural institutions!"
A waiter appeared, as if summoned by magic. Crystal water glasses were filled, a wine list presented to Tim with the reverence usually reserved for religious texts.
"The 2015 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, sir?" the waiter suggested.
Tim's fingers brushed yours across the table. "What do you think?"
The wine probably cost more than your monthly salary. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very out of your depth.
"I'm more of a craft beer girl," you admitted.
Tim's smile was blinding. "Good. Because I am too. Though don't tell my family."
Something in that moment â his genuine smile, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room â made all the elegance around you fade into background noise.
"So," you leaned forward, "tell me something real. Something the tabloids don't know."
His eyes glinted with a promise of secrets about to be shared. Tim leaned back, a challenge dancing in his eyes. "Something real, huh? Most people think they know me â Timothy Drake, Wayne heir, tech prodigy. But nobody knows the real me."
The waiter returned, setting down an array of dishes that looked more like art installations than food. Delicate rice paper rolls, a steaming pho that sent wisps of aromatic steam into the air, garnishes so precisely placed they looked like they'd been positioned with tweezers.
"I was seven," Tim began, picking up his chopsticks with the same precision the chef had used to arrange the meal, "when I first taught myself computer programming."
You raised an eyebrow. "Most seven-year-olds are playing video games. You were writing code?"
"Not just writing," he corrected, a hint of that boyish enthusiasm breaking through his polished exterior. "I was trying to hack my parents' computer to prove I could do it."
A laugh escaped you â loud, unrestrained, completely inappropriate for the refined setting. Several nearby diners turned, but Tim's eyes never left you.
"Did you succeed?" you asked, leaning forward.
His smile was pure mischief. "Of course I did. Took me three days. My mother was both furious and secretly impressed."
You took a bite of the rice paper roll, trying to look elegant and immediately realizing how difficult that was. A drop of sauce landed on your dress.
"Shit," you muttered.
Tim slides a napkin toward you, but there's something soft in his eyes. "It's just a dress," he says simply. "Not like the world will end."
It wasn't just a napkin. It was a perfectly pressed white linen napkin that probably cost more than your dry cleaning budget for a year. You dabbed at the spot, acutely aware of how out of place you felt.
"Your turn," Tim said. "Something real about you that nobody knows."
You hesitated, twirling your chopsticks. "I... can't actually use these very well."
His laugh was unexpected. Full. Rich. The kind of laugh that made other diners turn and smile, even if they didn't know the joke.
"tell me something actually real," he prompted again, his eyes holding a mix of curiosity and challenge.
"When I was in college," you admitted quietly, a mischievous edge creeping into your voice, "I may have orchestrated the complete academic downfall of six guys from Gotham University."
Tim's laugh burst out unexpectedly, sharp and surprised. "You got them expelled?"
"They had cut up photos of my sister Indi from magazines," you exclaimed, a fierce protectiveness blazing in your eyes. "Hung them in their dorm with these... disgusting annotations. No one makes gross comments about my sister without consequences."
Your voice was matter-of-fact, but there was a steel underneath that made Tim's eyes widen. He leaned closer, fascinated.
"What did you do?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.
A small, dangerous smile played across your lips. "Let's just say their academic records became... quite complicated. Plagiarism allegations. Lost recommendation letters. Academic conduct hearings." You shrugged. "By the time I was done, they were lucky to transfer to community college."
Tim's laughter was a mix of shock and admiration. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
"Wise choice," you winked.
The conversation hung between you - a delicate balance of humor and intensity. Tim's fingers traced patterns on the pristine white tablecloth, his next words carefully chosen.
"Most people think I'm just the tech genius of the Wayne family," he said softly. "But my first love was actually marine biology."
You blinked, caught off guard. "Marine biology? Really?"
"Spent an entire summer when I was fourteen volunteering at the Gotham Aquarium," he admitted, a soft vulnerability replacing his usual polished exterior. "I wanted to save every single sea creature. Drove my family absolutely mad. I still have a boat bruce bought me for it."
The waiter returned, setting down two steaming bowls of pho. The aroma was intoxicating â star anise, beef broth, fresh herbs creating a symphony of scent that made your mouth water.
"What changed?" you asked, watching Tim expertly manipulate his chopsticks. "Why didn't you become a marine biologist?"
His smile turned slightly rueful. "Reality of the Wayne legacy, I suppose. Family expectations are... complicated."
You understood that. Family expectations were a language you'd spoken fluently your entire life. The weight of unspoken rules, inherited dreams, and silent sacrifices - you knew that terrain intimately.
"My turn, huh?" You traced the rim of your water glass, your voice soft but steady. "My father died when I was fifteen. Lung cancer - a delayed consequence of a Joker gas attack years earlier. Most people don't understand how something like that lingers, how toxicity can take years to kill you."
You looked up, meeting Tim's gaze directly. No apology in your eyes, just a raw, unvarnished truth.
"He made me promise something before he died," you continued. "Not just me, but all my sisters. 'Never stop fighting for what you want most in life.' Not in a motivational poster kind of way. But like a mission. A directive."
Tim's hand moved across the table, his fingers barely touching yours. Not a gesture of pity, but of connection. Understanding.
"Some legacies are survival instructions," he said quietly. It wasn't a question. It was a statement of solidarity.
You appreciated that he didn't say "I'm sorry." Those words had lost meaning years ago.
"Want to know something else?" Tim's smile shifted - part mischief, part vulnerability. "I've been wanting to ask you out for months."
"No way," you laughed, the sound low and disbelieving. "Me? Of all people?" Your eyebrow arched, a challenge dancing in your eyes. "Absolutely not."
Tim's smile didn't falter. If anything, it deepened - a mix of amusement and something more profound. "Oh, but yes way," he countered, his fingers still intertwined with yours. "The universe works in strange ways."
You'd heard that before. Gotham was a city of strange ways, of unexpected connections.
"The truth," Tim continued, leaning closer, "is always more complicated." His voice dropped, intimate. "You're the first person who's ever looked past the surface. Who sees beyond the Drake heir, beyond the Wayne successor. Who sees just... me."
The words hung between you - vulnerable, honest, dangerous.
The food arrived like a distraction, a symphony of colors that seemed almost too artful to disturb. Delicate rice paper rolls that looked like they'd been crafted by an artist, not a chef. Steam rising from a soup that promised complexity. Crisp pancakes that looked more like small architectural models than something meant to be eaten.
"Eat," Tim encouraged, his eyes never leaving yours. "No nerves required."
Your chopsticks felt awkward, clumsy. Tim's movements, by contrast, were fluid - each motion precise, economic. A dancer's grace, a programmer's efficiency.
The first bite exploded across your tongue - layers of flavor so complex they almost seemed impossible. Nuanced. Unexpected. Nothing like any Vietnamese food you'd experienced before.
"Good?" Tim asked, and the word was loaded with something more than simple curiosity.
"Incredible," you admitted. And you weren't just talking about the food.
Outside, Gotham's night was falling. City lights began to sparkle - a million stories unfolding in the darkness. But inside this restaurant, in this moment, there was only the two of you. The elegant space. The extraordinary food. And a connection that felt like it was writing its own unexpected story.
The evening was drawing to a close, and the last thing you wanted was for it to end. The tension between you and Tim was electric - professional boundaries blurring with each passing moment. One more hour, and you'd be dangerously close to crossing lines that couldn't be uncrossed.
Gotham's night air bit through your jacket as you stepped outside, the city's chill a stark contrast to the warmth of the restaurant.
"Metropolis," you said softly, a statement and a promise. Your feet shifted, reluctant to create distance between you.
Tim's gaze was warm, understanding. But there was something else brewing beneath the surface - a careful consideration you recognized instantly.
"I spoke with Bruce," he began, each word measured. "About us. About potential... complications."
You tensed slightly. The unspoken implications hung between you - this could work, or this could spectacularly fall apart.
"A contract," Tim continued, watching your reaction carefully. "Not what you're thinking. An NDA. A way to protect both of us. Professionally and personally."
A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. "A contract? Like some kind of corporate romance clause?"
Tim's laugh matched yours - nervous, excited, slightly ridiculous. "Something like that. Bruce thought it might provide a framework. Protection."
"Romantic," you deadpanned, but your eyes were sparkling.
"Bruce was never known for his romantic sensibilities," Tim shot back.
A soft silence settled between you, the city's background noise a distant hum. Tim's hands were tucked into his coat pockets, but you could see the tension in his shoulders - a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
"So," you said finally, your breath creating small clouds in the cold Gotham air, "a contract that essentially says what, exactly?"
Tim's smile was equal parts nervous and calculated. "Mutual discretion. Clear boundaries. Protections for both of us if things become... complicated." He paused. "Bruce suggested it might help us navigate the professional complexities."
You appreciated the directness. In Gotham, in your world, nothing was ever simple. Relationships were chess matches, and Tim was proposing a detailed playbook.
"And if I want to play?" The question hung between you, loaded with possibility.
"Then we play carefully," Tim responded, his voice low. "Very carefully."
The streetlights cast a golden glow, creating a bubble of intimacy in the middle of a city that never truly slept. Gotham watched, perpetually curious, perpetually waiting.
âI can do careful,â you hummed sweetly and stood on the tips of your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek making him flush red in the face. You heard a honk and looked over and saw scarlet's car. âThat's my ride. See you in Metropolis, Mr. Drakeâ
âI'm never going to get you to just call me Tim all the time, am i?â His voice filled with mirth and teasing as he smiled at you.
âWe will see, sirâ you chirped, giving a mock salute before going off to your sister's car.
.
.
.
"That should be everything," Scarlet declared, setting down the final box in the spacious Metropolis penthouse. She let out a low whistle, surveying the room. "Quite the setup your boyfriend arranged."
"He's notâ" You sighed, catching yourself, maybe you were, you werent sure. "Tim just needs me close for our work."
Scarlet's eyebrow arched, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Right. Just work."
You rolled your eyes, recognizing the familiar teasing. "You sound just like Indi and Dick."
Her laugh was soft, but her gaze grew serious. Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Scarlet studied you with a mixture of concern and pride. "You sure you'll be okay out here? It's a hell of a long way from Gotham."
The concern was layeredâpart sisterly protection, part lingering grief. You both knew how much had changed since your father's death.
"I need this," you said quietly. "A fresh start. Away from... everything."
"Away from Josh," Scarlet corrected, her tone hardening. "I still offer to break his kneecaps, by the way."
"Calm down, Vito Corleone," you chuckled.
For a moment, Scarlet looked less like the fierce small business owner and more like the sister who had helped raise you. Her fingers traced the edge of a nearby boxâan old nervous habit from childhood.
"I worry," she admitted. "Ever since dad..."
You moved closer, placing a hand on her arm. "I know. But I'm not alone. I've got you. Indi. Petal. Mom. And now, this opportunity with Tim."
Moisture gathered in Scarlet's eyes. "You're going to do amazing things. I know it."
The hug was tight, filled with the familiar scents of lavender, flower shop soil, and citrus cleaning products that defined Scarlet.
"How's the shop? How's Harkin?" you asked, sensing she needed to shift focus.
Her smile transformed her entire demeanor. "Growing like a weed. He's 'helping' me arrange flowersâwhich means creating beautiful, chaotic messes."
"Sounds exactly like his mother," you teased.
"Careful," Scarlet mock-warned. "I have connections with every florist in Gotham. I could make your professional life very interesting."
You raised an eyebrow. "Weaponized flower arrangements?"
"Not a threat. A promise."
Laughter dissolved the remaining tension. Outside the penthouse windows, Metropolis awaitedâa canvas of new possibilities.
"Call me," Scarlet insisted as she prepared to leave. "Every. Single. Day."
"Yes, mom," you retorted, the affection clear.
After she departed, you stood amid the boxesâeach one a symbol of transformation, of escape, of hope.
Your phone buzzed.
From: Tim
Everything settled in?
To: Tim
Almost. My sister just threatened to weaponize flower arrangements if I don't call her daily.
From: Tim
Remind me to never get on her bad side either.
A smile played on your lips. Metropolis wasn't just a new city. It was a new beginning.
.
.
.
The weeks blurred together, each day more demanding than the last. You could feel the tension buildingâin your jaw, in Tim's posture, in the very air around your work.
You were on a call, your tone clipped and professional, when Tim entered the room. His face was a map of stress, fingers rubbing his temples. Their eyes metâa silent acknowledgment of the mounting pressure.
The phone call was a masterclass in professional restraint. Your voice, crisp and controlled, sliced through the potential client's growing agitation.
"Mr. Drake's schedule is completely booked," you stated, each word precisely calibrated. "We cannot accommodate additional meetings at this time."
Tim watched from the doorway, a silent observer to your professional ballet. The muffled sounds of argument filtered through the phone's speakerâfrustration, desperation, the kind of negotiation that happened when someone was used to getting their way.
"I understand your concerns," you continued, a razor's edge of patience threading through your tone. "If you could provide a more comprehensive proposal, I'd be happy to review it for potential future consideration."
Another pause. Your fingers drummed a subtle rhythm against the deskâthe only outward sign of your mounting irritation.
"No," you said firmly. "Mr. Drake maintains strict boundaries regarding business communications. Discretion is paramount in our work."
When you finally ended the call, the silence felt like a physical thing. You exhaledâlong, controlled, a study in professional composure.
Tim's chuckle was low, tinged with exhaustion. "Problems?"
Your smile was wry, weathered. "Just another client who believes the rules don't apply to them."
The subtext was clear. The Metropolis transferâonce a promising strategic expansionâhad become a crucible of unexpected challenges. New clients, competing interests, a constant barrage of professional obstacles had transformed their work into a high-wire act of precision and patience.
"I'm starting to think Samantha might have been right about the market volatility," you admitted, shuffling papers that seemed to multiply with each passing moment.
Tim's jaw tightened. The mention of Samantha was a deliberate provocation, and he knew it.
"We're not giving her the satisfaction," he responded, the words clipped.
You raised an eyebrow, a challenge masked as curiosity. "Competitive?"
"Always," he said. But beneath the professional veneer, a hint of his younger self emergedâthat brilliant, driven individual who'd never backed down from a challenge.
"Coffee?"
It wasn't a question. It was survival.
The break room was a sanctuary of sortsâa small pocket of relative calm in their storm of professional intensity. The coffee machine gurgled, filling the space with a rich, bitter aroma that spoke of long nights and endless negotiations.
Tim's phone buzzed. The caller ID read "Dick"âa name that immediately sparked a warning look from Tim.
"Don't," he said, catching your inquisitive glance.
"Don't what?" Innocence personified.
"Whatever matchmaking scheme Dick and Indi are plotting." No real heat in the words. Just resignation.
Outside, Metropolis stretched beneath gray skiesâa city of perpetual motion, of opportunities hidden behind concrete and glass. Much like the relationship developing between you and Tim. Professional. Intense. Something more.
"We're going to make this work," you muttered. A promise. A prayer.
Tim looked at youâtruly looked. Past the stress. Beyond the tense shoulders and dark circles. He saw potential. Resilience. Something profound.
"Together," he confirmed.
The word hung in the air. Weighted. Promising.
Your phone buzzed. Scarlet, as always, a lifeline.
From: Scarlet
Coffee count? Eating actual food today?
You showed Tim the message. He laughed, a sound that broke through the professional tension.
"Indi's more responsible sibling" he observed.
"Careful," you warned. "She weaponizes flower arrangements."
As if summoned by the conversation, a delivery arrived. A small, elegant bouquet. The card read: "Survive. Thrive. Love you."
Something soft passed over Tim's expression. A vulnerability quickly masked by professional composure.
"We've got this," he said quietly.
And for the first time in weeks, you believed him.
.
.
.
The first true glimpse of Timothy Jackson Drake's anger wasn't a explosion. It was precise. Surgical. Triggered by a rumor that threatened everything you'd both been building.
A coworker's casual observation. You and Tim, lunch, appearing more familiar than strictly professional.
The storm was just beginning.
The voices filtered through Tim's office door, muffled but unmistakable.
"Mr. Drake, we aren't saying personal relationships are forbidden, but consider the optics."
You continued typing, each keystroke a measured rhythm of professional composure. But you were listening. Always listening.
The arrangement between you and Tim was a delicate architecture. Not a relationship, not exactly. Something more calculated. Less romantic, more strategic. Bruce's recommendation hung over everythingâa non-disclosure agreement disguised as professional courtesy.
Tim took care of things. A Prada handbag here. Covering unexpected expenses there. You weren't naive enough to call it love. You were pragmatic enough to recognize opportunity.
Inside the office, Tim's voice roseâa razor's edge of controlled fury.
"My assistant's performance is exemplary," he stated. Not a defense. A declaration.
You knew the game. Every interaction choreographed. Lunches that could pass as strategy meetings. Texts that whispered professional necessity. Gifts positioned as performance incentives.
The door opened. Tim emergedâprofessional armor firmly in place, save for the microscopic tension in his jaw.
"Pull the quarterly reports," he instructed. Not a request.
You understood immediately. Performance metrics as weaponry. A clinical dismantling of any suggestion of impropriety.
Your phone buzzed. Indi's perpetual concern.
From: Indi
You're being careful?
To: Indi
Always.
Tim's fingers flew across his keyboardâcomposing what you knew would be a surgical email. Destroying potential narratives before they could take root.
"Coffee?" you asked.
"Already brewing," he responded, because you always were.
The first true fracture came later. Not during the meeting. After.
His office. Private territory. The walls seemed to breathe with unspoken tension.
"I've never seen you so calm," you remarked.
Tim's response was immediate. "I'm not calm."
A muscle ticked in his cheek. Fury, precisely contained. "I'm furious they would dare question your competence. Your integrity."
You stepped closer. An instinctive movement. Grounding.
"Timâ"
The space between you was charged. Not with anger. Something more complex. More dangerous.
Metropolis stretched outsideâa city of ambition, of carefully constructed facades. Much like the relationship developing between you and Tim.
Professional. Intense. Undefined.
Precisely where you both wanted it.
"They don't truly see you," Tim said, his voice a low, controlled intensity that could slice through steel. "Just another face. A convenient target."
The space between you vibrated with unspoken tension. Professional. Personal. Something impossibly complex.
His hand caught your wristânot a restraint, but a connection. Firm. Deliberate.
"I see you," he repeated. Each word a precise instrument. A vow. âDo you know what I see? What you are?â
You knew the game. The careful dance you'd choreographed. Bruce's recommendations echoing in every interaction. Boundaries drawn with surgical precision.
"I'm the one who understands the numbers," you murmured. "The one who keeps this machine running."
His grip softened. A single finger tracing the delicate skin of your inner armâa touch that defied every professional protocol you'd both meticulously constructed.
"The one," Tim said, "who makes me want to break every rule we've set."
City lights filtered through the office windows. Metropolisâa backdrop to your carefully modulated tension.
"Tim," you warned. A plea. A boundary.
He was close. Close enough that you could feel the heat of him. The controlled fury. The restrained desire.
"Just one moment," he said. Not a question. Not quite a demand.
The line between professional and personal blurred. Dissolved.
His kiss was precise. Controlled. A claim and a surrender wrapped into one moment of absolute clarity.
When he pulled back, you were breathless. Flushed. Changed.
"Remember," Tim said, "who you are to me."
You nodded. A return to form. To function.
"Reports," he instructed.
And just like that, the moment dissolved. Professional composure restored.
.
.
.
Performance reports became your weapon. Tim's legendary meticulousness combined with your strategic brillianceâa combination more surgical than any board meeting could anticipate.
"They're searching for weakness," Tim murmured, documents spread between you like battle plans.
The office was silent. Just desk lamps. City lights. The soft rustle of paper.
"They won't find it," you responded. Your phone buzzed. Indi.
From: Indi
Message: Heard through the grapevine you're causing board drama. Need me to come weaponize some PR?
To: Indi
Message: Absolutely not.
Tim glanced over, catching your slight smile. "Your sister?"
"Offering to commit professional warfare on my behalf," you deadpanned.
He chuckled. A rare sound these days.
The Metropolis expansion was proving more challenging than anticipated. Tech companies were circling, sensing vulnerability. The board's whispers about your relationship were just one pressure point.
"We could make a statement," Tim suggested, not for the first time.
"And say what? That we're... what exactly?" You raised an eyebrow. "Professionally involved? Personally connected?"
The space between those definitions was where you lived now.
A knock interrupted. Martin Reynolds â the board member who'd been most vocal about your "inappropriate relationship" â stood in the doorway.
"Ms. (Y/L/N)," he said, deliberately not looking at Tim, "a moment?"
Tim's hand â almost imperceptibly â brushed yours under the desk. A silent warning. A promise.
The game was just beginning.
You followed Mr. Reynolds out into the hall, who glanced around for a moment, ensuring no one was within immediate earshot.
"You wished to speak to me, sir?"
"With all due respect, ma'am, I'd like to make a suggestion." His tone was clipped and lined with a superiority that made you want to claw his eyes out. "End whatever little situation you have with Mr. Drake before it ruins you."
You gaped at the audacity of this man for a moment before your eyes narrowed. "Mr. Drake and I's connection outside of work hours is not of company concern, sir."
Reynolds leaned in, his voice low and threatening. "Do you really think you're the first assistant to believe she can navigate a relationship with her boss? I've seen careers destroyed for far less."
Your spine straightened. You'd grown up with Indi as a sister and survived Scarlet's protective fury and had helped raise the youngest of your sisters into a formidable young woman. A middle-aged board member attempting to intimidate you was child's play.
"Are you suggesting, Mr. Reynolds, that my professional performance has been anything less than exceptional?" Each word was precisely placed, a verbal chess move.
He faltered slightly. The quarterly reports â the ones you and Tim had meticulously prepared â spoke for themselves. Your metrics were impeccable. The Metropolis office had seen a 17% increase in efficiency since your arrival.
"I'm suggesting," he said, recovering his bluster, "that personal entanglements compromise professional judgment."
A laugh â short, sharp â escaped you before you could stop it. "With all due respect, sir, the only compromise I see is your apparent inability to recognize talent when it's directly in front of you."
Tim's approach was subtle. You didn't hear him, but suddenly he was there, a presence just behind you. Not intervening, but clearly present.
"Is there a problem?" Tim's voice was silk over steel.
Reynolds straightened, the bravado momentarily deflating. "Mr. Drake. Just having a professional discussion with your... assistant."
"My executive assistant," Tim corrected, a razor's edge to the words. "Is there something specific you needed to discuss about our recent performance reports?"
The hall seemed to compress, tension thrumming between them. You were acutely aware of the strategic positioning â Tim slightly behind you, a silent support, letting you handle the confrontation.
Reynolds knew he was outmaneuvered. "No," he said finally. "Nothing further."
As he walked away, Tim's hand brushed yours â so briefly anyone watching would miss it. A moment of connection. Of solidarity.
"Lunch?" he asked, as if nothing had happened.
Your smile was pure defiance. "Absolutely."
The walk to the cafeteria was charged. Tim's mind raced, replaying the interaction. Reynolds' thinly veiled threats. Your sharp-edged response. The way you'd stood your ground, unflinching.
"You know," he said as you entered the elevator, "I'm starting to think you enjoy these confrontations."
Your laugh was sharp. Bitter. "Not so much enjoyment as necessitate."
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing you in a capsule of forced intimacy. Tim leaned against the wall, studying you. Really seeing you for the first time since the whole Reynolds debacle began.
"I never thanked you," he said quietly. "For handling that. With Reynolds."
You shrugged, but there was a tension in your shoulders. A tightness around your eyes that spoke of long-held frustrations.
"Don't," you said, too quickly. "Don't thank me for doing my job."
Ah. There it was. The crux of the issue.
"(Y/N)," he started, but the elevator dinged, doors sliding open to reveal the bustling cafeteria. The aroma of fresh coffee and reheated pizza wafted out, a stark contrast to the sterile hallways of Wayne Enterprises.
Tim hesitated, his hand hovering at the threshold. The urge to pull you aside, to find a quiet corner and hash this out, was strong. But the rational part of his brain knew that wasn't the answer. Not here, not now.
So he followed you into the fray, falling into step beside you as you wove through the lunchtime crowd. You moved with purpose, your posture straight and your gaze focused. No one would guess at the tension thrumming beneath your skin.
"Salad bar?" Tim asked, a peace offering. A chance to salvage some normalcy.
You nodded, a curt jerk of your head. No words, but the message was clear.
As you loaded up your tray with greens and vegetables, Tim found himself studying you. The set of your jaw, the furrow between your brows. He'd seen you angry before, but this was different. This was cold. Calculating.
"You know," he said softly, leaning in so only you could hear, "if you ever need a sparring partner, I'm your guy."
The joke fell flat. Your eyes never left the salad bar, but he could see the muscles in your back tense.
Right. Not the time for levity.
They found a table in the corner, as far from the crowds as possible. You sat across from him, arranging your food with mechanical precision.
Tim took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly. The silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid.
"(Y/N)," he started, but the words tangled on his tongue. How did you even begin to address this? The double standards, the constant scrutiny, the need to be twice as good just to be seen as half as competent?
You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a challenge there, a defiance that took his breath away.
"Don't," you said, your voice low and intense. "Don't look at me like that. Like I'm some fragile thing that needs protecting."
"I'm not," he protested, but the denial rang hollow even to his own ears.
"Yes, you are." Your knife scraped against your plate, a sharp sound in the quiet cafeteria. "You're looking at me like I'm a victim. Like I need you to fight my battles for me."
Tim's jaw clenched. He knew that look. That patronizing tilt of the head, that subtle shift in body language that said 'poor little girl, can't handle the big bad corporate world'.
It made his blood boil.
"That's not," he started, but you cut him off with a look.
"It is," you insisted, leaning forward. "It's exactly what you're thinking. You're wondering how I can handle myself, how I can stand up to men like Reynolds."
"I'm not," Tim said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were a lie. He had wondered that, in the moment. Had seen you standing tall and proud and fierce, and had felt a flicker of doubt.
"Well, stop," you said, sitting back. "Stop wondering, stop worrying, stop treating me like I'm made of glass."
Tim's hands curled into fists beneath the table. He wanted to argue, to defend himself. But the words wouldn't come.
Because you were right. He had been treating you differently, holding you to a different standard. And that was wrong.
"I apologize," he said finally, the words stiff and formal in his mouth. "I shouldn't have assumed."
You studied him for a long moment, searching his face. Then, slowly, you nodded.
"Apology accepted," you said, and just like that, the tension broke.
You went back to your salad, and Tim to his sandwich. The conversation flowed back to safer topics - work, the weather, the never-ending stream of emails.
But beneath it all, something had shifted. A new understanding, a deeper respect.
Tim Drake was many things - a vigilante, a detective, a genius. But today, he was learning to be something else. Your equal.
.
.
.
Morning sunlight filtered through your penthouse windows, illuminating an elegantly wrapped box outside your door. The tag made you sigh: 'a proper apology - T'. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, lay a dress that made your breath catch. Chamomile yellow silk, the kind of elegance that belonged at galas, not board meetings. Your laptop search for the designer nearly stopped your heart.
You hit Tim's speed dial. "Timothy Jackson Drake, did you seriously buy me a five thousand dollar dress as an apology?!"
His chuckle was warm, rich. "Guilty. But it's not just any dress. It's Valentino, that designer you mentioned loving at the charity gala last month."
Your fingers traced the impeccable stitching, betraying you even as you protested. "This is excessive."
"Says the woman who orchestrated a complete restructuring of our Asia-Pacific division in three days." The smile in his voice was audible. "But seriously, I wanted... I needed to show you that yesterday meant something. That I heard you."
You bit your lip, caught between admiration and unease. The gesture was thoughtful, intimate even - he'd remembered an offhand comment about your favorite designer. But it also highlighted the very power dynamic you'd fought against yesterday.
"Tim," you said softly, still running your fingers along the silk, "I can't accept this. It's too much."
His pause spoke volumes. When he finally responded, his voice had lost its playful edge.
"This isn't about the money, (Y/N). This is me saying I see you. As my equal. My partner. Yesterday made me realize I needed to show that, not just say it.â
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. You closed your eyes, taking a steadying breath.
"I appreciate the sentiment," you said carefully. "But gifts like this... they create expectations. Obligations."
"I'm not trying to create obligations," Tim said, exasperation creeping into his tone. "I'm trying to show you that I value you. As a person. As my colleague. You're important to me."
You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died in your throat. Because maybe... maybe he was right. Maybe you were reading too much into this. Seeing shadows where there was only light.
"Keep it," Tim said, his voice gentle now. "Wear it to the gala next week. Show them all how wrong they are about you."
The gala. Of course. The annual charity event that was as much about business as it was about philanthropy. A chance to network, to make statements.
To make a point.
"Fine," you said, surprising yourself with the word. "I'll wear it. But only because it's a lovely dress."
"And because you look stunning in yellow," Tim added, his voice warm.
You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "Flatterer."
"Always," he agreed, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
You hung up a moment later, still holding the dress. The silk was cool against your skin, a reminder of the promise â and the danger â that lay ahead.
The dress was beautiful. Tim's intentions were pure. But in the cutthroat world of Wayne Enterprises, even the most innocent of gestures could be twisted. Used against you.
You'd have to be careful. Cautious. But for now, in the early morning light, you allowed yourself a moment of indulgence.
Of possibility.
The next morning arrived too soon, the alarm jarring you awake with its insistent beep. You groaned, burying your face in the pillow, but the events of the day ahead refused to be ignored.
The gala. The dress. Tim.
With a sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed, stumbling to the closet where you'd hung the chamomile dress the night before. The silk shimmered in the low light, a promise of elegance amidst the chaos of your morning routine.
You showered quickly, taking extra care with your hair and makeup. Tonight was about making a statement, and you wanted to look your best.
As you slipped into the dress, you marveled at the way it hugged your curves, accentuating your assets without being overtly sexual.
You stepped back, taking in the full effect. The dress was perfect â elegant, sophisticated, but with a hint of something more. A whisper of danger beneath the surface.
Just like you.
A knock at the door startled you from your thoughts.
âDoor is open, let yourself in,â you called out. The door swung open, revealing Tim in a tailored tuxedo. His blue eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, the chamomile dress clinging to your curves like a second skin.
"Wow," he breathed, stepping into the room. "You look... incredible."
You felt a flush of pleasure at the compliment, even as you tried to tamp it down. This was about making a statement, not fishing for compliments.
"Thank you," you said coolly, moving past him to grab your clutch. "I hope you don't intend to keep me waiting."
Tim chuckled, following you out into the hallway. "Wouldn't dream of it. I know better than to keep a lady waiting."
The ride to the gala was filled with small talk, the kind of inane chatter that filled the air at these sorts of events. You pointed out a few notable guests as they arrived, while Tim regaled you with stories of past galas gone wrong.
"One year," he said, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the limo, "one year, I accidentally spilled red wine all over Bruce's date. He was furious. Threw me out of the car and made me walk home."
You couldn't help but laugh at the image, the sound escaping before you could stop it. Tim grinned, clearly pleased with the reaction.
"I've never lived it down," he confessed, shaking his head. "But hey, at least I learned to hold my drink."
The limo pulled up to the gala venue, the Starlight Ballroom, a glittering palace of glass and steel. You stepped out onto the red carpet, the flash of cameras blinding in the night.
Tim offered you his arm, ever the gentleman. You took it, ignoring the way your heart raced at the contact.
The Starlight Ballroom shimmered like a jewel box, crystal chandeliers casting prismatic light across the crowd of Metropolis elite. You smoothed down the chamomile silk of your dress - Tim's gift - and fought the urge to fidget with your clutch. The weight of eyes on you was tangible: board members, society mavens, all wondering about the nature of your relationship with Timothy Drake.
"Champagne?" Tim appeared at your elbow, two flutes balanced elegantly in his hands. In his perfectly tailored tuxedo, he looked every inch the billionaire CEO - except for the slight softness in his eyes when they met yours.
"My hero," you murmured, accepting the glass. The cool crystal anchored you, gave you something to do with your hands besides betray your nerves.
"Reynolds is watching," Tim said under his breath, his smile never wavering. "Third pillar from the left."
You didn't turn to look. You'd learned that much about these gatherings - never let them see you react. "Let him watch. We have nothing to hide."
Tim's fingers brushed yours as he took your empty glass, the touch sending electricity up your arm. "Dance with me?"
The orchestra was playing something slow and romantic - because of course it was. You let Tim lead you onto the floor, his hand settling at your waist with practiced ease. This close, you could smell his cologne, see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
"You're thinking too loud," he murmured, guiding you through a turn.
"Someone has to," you shot back, but there was no heat in it. How could there be, when he was looking at you like that?
The music swelled, a slow, sultry beat that seemed to pulse in time with your heart. Tim pulled you close, his hand splayed across your back, drawing you flush against his body.
You moved together, your bodies finding a rhythm that was uniquely yours. The world fell away, the gala fading into the background as you lost yourself in the feel of him, the scent of his cologne, the heat of his skin.
When the song ended, you pulled back, breathless and flushed. Tim's eyes were dark, his gaze heavy with promise.
"Tim... I" your hands lingered on his shoulders and he hummed softly, gazing at you through hooded lids.
"Mmmhm?"
"I.."
"(Y/N), is that you?" A voice like honey laced with arsenic cut through the moment. You stiffened, your spine turning to ice. Slowly, you turned to face the architect of your past heartbreak. Alexia stood there, resplendent in a champagne-colored dress that probably cost more than your monthly rent, her smile sharp as a knife's edge.
"Alexia." Your voice came out steadier than you felt.
"(Y/N)!" She glided forward with practiced grace, enveloping you in a cloud of expensive perfume and false warmth. "It's been absolute ages!"
You remained rigid in her embrace, your arms hanging uselessly at your sides. The memory of finding her in your bed â in your bed with Josh â flashed unbidden through your mind.
Tim's hand found your waist, his touch grounding you. His fingers pressed ever so slightly into your skin â a silent reminder that you weren't alone.
"How... unexpected to see you here," you managed, extracting yourself from her embrace. The smile you offered felt like shattered glass on your lips.
Alexia's perfectly shaped eyebrows arched as her gaze slid to Tim, lingering just a heartbeat too long on the elegant cut of his suit. "And who might this be?"
"Tim Drake," he introduced himself with impossible smoothness, extending his hand. The way he said it â so casual yet commanding â sent a flutter through your stomach.
"Charmed," Alexia purred, her manicured fingers wrapping around his hand. She held on just long enough to make you notice, her thumb brushing his palm as she withdrew. "I don't suppose you're here alone?"
Your fingers curled into Tim's jacket before you could stop yourself. "Actually, Tim's my date."
"Is he now?" Alexia's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in her eyes â calculation, perhaps. Or hunger. "How... lovely."
She turned back to Tim, angling her body to partially exclude you from the conversation. "You must tell me how you two met. (Y/N) was always so... particular about her choices. After Josh, I mean."
The casual cruelty of the reference made your breath catch. Tim's hand tightened imperceptibly on your waist.
"Actually," he interjected smoothly, "we were just about to get some air. The terrace here is supposed to be spectacular."
"Oh, but you must save a dance for me later," Alexia called as you turned to leave, her voice carrying just enough to draw curious glances from nearby guests. "For old times' sake."
You didn't trust yourself to respond, letting Tim guide you through the crowd. But you could feel Alexia's eyes following you, calculating and cold as a snake's.
Later, when you found yourself alone by the pool, the click of heels on marble announced her arrival before her voice did.
"Quite the catch," she drawled, coming to stand beside you. "Better than Josh, I'd say. Though that's not saying much, is it?"
You turned to face her, tired of the games. "What do you want, Alexia?"
Her perfect smile faltered for just a moment. "Want? Can't I just want to reconnect with an old friend?"
"We stopped being friends the moment you chose to destroy everything I trusted you with."
"Oh please," she scoffed, mask slipping further. "You always were so dramatic. It was just sex. Besides," her lips curved into a cruel smile, "he wasn't exactly thinking about you that night."
The words hit like a physical blow, but you refused to let her see you flinch. "And that's supposed to make it better? That you both betrayed me so completely?"
"Betrayed you?" Alexia laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Honey, you betrayed yourself. Always playing it safe, always so... proper. Josh needed more. Maybe Tim will too, eventually."
Your hands clenched at your sides, nails biting into your palms. "You don't know anything about Tim."
"Not yet," she agreed, her smile turning predatory. "But the night is young."
You stepped closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Stay away from him, Alexia. And stay away from me."
She merely laughed, the sound echoing across the water. "Come on, don't you wanna hear about how good I have it now?"
You paused, hand hovering over the ornate handle of the ballroom door. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to walk away, to deny her the satisfaction. But there was something magnetic about the moment â like watching a car crash in slow motion, knowing the impact was coming but unable to look away.
Pivoting slowly on your heel, you faced her with a carefully constructed mask of indifference. "Alright, Alexia. Dazzle me."
Her smile unfurled like a poisonous flower, perfectly painted lips curving with predatory satisfaction. "Oh, I think you'll find this particularly... interesting." She paused, savoring the moment like fine wine. "Wayne Enterprises just signed me as their new Director of Strategic Partnerships. I'll be working directly with Tim on all major accounts."
The words hit you like ice water in your veins. You fought to keep your expression neutral, even as your mind raced through the implications. Tim. Every day. In meetings, over coffee, late nights at the office...
"Funny," you heard yourself say, voice steady despite the tremor in your chest. "Tim hasn't mentioned anything about it."
"Hasn't he?" Alexia's eyebrow arched delicately. "Well, it's all very recent. The paperwork was just finalized today, actually. Tim and I had quite the... intimate discussion about my role." She emphasized 'intimate' just enough to make your skin crawl.
Your fingers curled into your palm, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake. The familiar whisper of inadequacy crept up your spine â the same voice that had haunted you after finding her with Josh. But something else stirred beneath the surface. Something harder, sharper.
"Although," you began, surprising yourself with the honeyed steel in your voice, "you might want to check that paperwork again. As Tim's executive assistant, I handle all his strategic partnerships." You watched the flicker of uncertainty cross her face. "And I don't recall seeing your name cross my desk."
The change in Alexia was instant â like a switch being flipped. Her perfectly composed facade cracked, revealing the raw fury beneath. Before you could react, her hands connected with your shoulders.
The world tilted.
The pool water shocked your system, stealing your breath. You flailed, your designer dress becoming a lead weight dragging you down. The underwater lights blurred into abstract shapes as panic clawed at your chest. Your lungs burned. You'd never learned to swim â a fact that had seemed inconsequential until this moment.
The water above you rippled and distorted, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision. Then â movement. Strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you up, up, up.
You broke the surface gasping, instinctively pressing your face into the crook of a familiar neck. Tim's cologne cut through the chlorine, grounding you as he lifted you from the pool.
"I've got you," he murmured against your hair, his voice rough with barely contained emotion. "You're safe. I've got you."
Water cascaded from your ruined dress as he carried you swiftly through the service entrance, away from prying eyes and whispered gossip. Your fingers clutched at his soaked shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against your palm.
He shouldered open the door to a private bathroom, setting you down carefully on the closed toilet lid. "Don't move," he ordered, voice tight with concern. "I'll be right back."
You nodded numbly, watching droplets fall from your hair to the marble floor. Time seemed to stretch and compress oddly â you weren't sure if seconds or hours passed before Tim returned, arms full of pristine white towels.
He knelt before you, hands infinitely gentle as they moved to help you out of your waterlogged dress. "We need to get you warm," he murmured, but there was something else in his voice. Something dangerous. "Are you hurt?"
You shook your head, then stopped as the movement made the room spin slightly. "Tim..."
"Shh," he soothed, wrapping a towel around your shoulders. "We'll deal with her later. Right now, all that matters is you."
But even as his hands worked to warm you, you could see the cold fury building behind his eyes. Tim Drake was not a man who forgot. And Alexia had just made a very, very big mistake.
You shivered as the cool air kissed your wet skin, raising an army of goosebumps across your arms and legs. Tim's hands were steady as he wrapped a towel around your shoulders, then another at your waist, his movements precise yet tender.
"Think you can stand?" His voice was soft, brow furrowed with the kind of concern that made your chest ache.
You nodded, gripping his forearms as he helped you up. Your legs trembled beneath you like a newborn fawn's, but Tim's presence was solid, unwavering. His soaked suit clung to his frame, water still dripping from his usually perfectly styled hair, and something about seeing him so disheveled, so human, made your heart flutter traitorously in your chest.
The whispers followed you through the ballroom like persistent shadows. Did you see...? In the pool...? Drake's assistant... But they felt distant, meaningless against the steady rhythm of Tim's heartbeat where your hand pressed against his chest for balance.
He guided you to a secluded alcove, settling you onto a velvet sofa that probably cost more than your monthly salary. The fabric would be ruined by your wet clothes, but Tim didn't seem to care as he knelt before you, one hand resting carefully on your knee.
"I'm going to find you something dry to wear," he murmured, his thumb tracing an absent circle against your skin. "Then we'll get you home, okay?"
You managed a nod, sinking back into the sofa as exhaustion began to seep into your bones. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that made your eyelids heavy.
When Tim returned, he held what looked like designer workout clothes. His touch was feather-light as he helped you change, his eyes carefully averted even though you were still in your slip. Ever the gentleman, even now.
"Better?" he asked, smoothing your damp hair back from your face with a gentleness that made your breath catch.
"Tired," you admitted, unconsciously leaning into his touch. "And mortified that half of Gotham's elite just saw me dripping all over their marble floors."
Tim's laugh was low and warm, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "Trust me, they've seen worse at these things. Besides," his eyes softened, "I think I ruined the dramatic effect by jumping in after you in a three-piece Armani."
That startled a laugh from you, though it caught in your throat as you really looked at him â his ruined suit, his tousled hair, the way his eyes hadn't left your face since pulling you from the pool. Like you might disappear if he looked away.
"I should go," you whispered, the words feeling wrong even as you said them. "Before someone takes a photo of me in borrowed Lululemon."
Tim's hand stilled against your cheek, something flickering in his eyes before he slowly pulled away. "Let me take you home," he said, standing and offering his hand. "We should... talk. About Alexia. About everything."
The drive home was quiet, filled with the soft hum of the car's heater and the occasional brush of Tim's hand against yours as he shifted gears. When you finally reached your building, he insisted on walking you up, carrying your ruined dress in a designer shopping bag someone had procured.
The lights in your penthouse apartment flickered on, casting a warm glow over the hardwood floors. You kicked off the borrowed shoes with a sigh of relief, and thenâ
"Mrrrrrowww?" A long, creaky sound echoed from the kitchen, followed by the appearance of a distinguished-looking tuxedo cat. Thomas sauntered out, his black and white coat gleaming in the light, tail held high like a flag of greeting.
"Hey, old man," you cooed, bending to pet him, but he gracefully sidestepped your still-damp hand with an affronted look that only cats can truly master.
Tim's surprised laugh was warm and genuine. "You have a cat?" He watched as Thomas performed his elaborate greeting ritual, circling your legs before sitting just out of reach, green eyes studying Tim with regal assessment.
"This is Thomas," you said, fighting a smile as the cat turned his attention to Tim, whiskers twitching with interest. "He's particular about his humans. And apparently about wet hands."
Tim crouched down, extending his fingers toward Thomas. To your surprise, the cat moved forward immediately, butting his head against Tim's hand with a purr that sounded like a small motor.
"Traitor," you muttered fondly, watching as your normally aloof cat melted under Tim's attention. "He usually takes weeks to warm up to people."
Tim glanced up at you, a soft smile playing at his lips. "What can I say? I have a way with complicated personalities."
The weight of the evening suddenly pressed down on you â the party, Alexia, the pool, and now Tim kneeling on your floor, charming your cat while still wearing a soaked designer suit. It felt surreal, like a dream you might wake from at any moment.
"Tim," you started, not quite sure what you were going to say, but needing to say something.
He stood slowly, Thomas weaving between his legs. "We should talk," he said quietly, "but first, you should get warm and dry. Properly dry." His eyes were serious now, concern evident in the set of his shoulders. "Do you want me to stay?"
The question hung in the air between you, heavy with possibilities. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you felt in the borrowed clothes, hair still damp and curling at the ends. The question lingered in the air, charged with unspoken meaning.
"Yes," you whispered, then cleared your throat. "Yes, I'd... like that."
Tim's expression softened. "Okay. Go change. I'll make us some tea."
"You know where everything is?" you asked, already knowing the answer. He'd been here countless times for late-night work sessions and early morning briefings, but this felt different somehow.
"Second cabinet on the left, top shelf," he replied with a small smile. "Go on. Thomas and I will handle things out here."
As if on cue, Thomas let out another creaky meow and padded after Tim toward the kitchen. You shook your head, still amazed at your cat's immediate acceptance of him.
In your bedroom, you peeled off the borrowed clothes, hanging them carefully over your shower rod. The hot water of the shower felt like heaven against your chlorine-scented skin, washing away the last physical traces of the evening. But Alexia's words still echoed in your mind, mixing with the sound of running water.
When you emerged, wrapped in your softest pajamas and warmest robe, you found Tim had made himself at home. He'd somehow procured dry clothes â you suspected he kept a change in his car for emergencies â and was sitting on your couch, two steaming mugs on the coffee table before him. Thomas was curled in his lap, purring contentedly.
"Better?" Tim asked, looking up as you approached.
"Much," you said, settling beside him on the couch and accepting the mug he offered. The familiar scent of chamomile wafted up, along with something else â honey, you realized. He remembered how you took your tea.
"So," he began carefully, his free hand still absently stroking Thomas, "want to tell me what really happened with Alexia?"
You stared into your mug, watching the steam rise in delicate spirals. "She... she said she's going to be working with you. At Wayne Enterprises."
Tim's hand stilled on Thomas's fur. "Is that what she told you?"
"She said she'd be your new Director of Strategic Partnerships." The words tasted bitter on your tongue.
To your surprise, Tim let out a short laugh. "Well, she certainly has an active imagination."
You looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"
"(Y/N)," he set his mug down, turning to face you fully. "Wayne Enterprises did receive her application, yes. But it was rejected two weeks ago. She didn't meet our requirements."
Relief flooded through you, followed quickly by embarrassment. "Oh."
"Besides," he continued, his voice softer now, "did you really think I'd hire someone without running it by you first? You're not just my assistant, you're..." he paused, something shifting in his expression. "You're important to me. Very important."
Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Tim..."
He reached out, gently taking your mug and setting it beside his. "When I saw her push you," his voice had dropped, taking on an edge you rarely heard, "when I saw you go under..." His hands clenched briefly before relaxing. "I've never been so scared in my life."
"You jumped in after me," you said softly. "In your Armani suit."
"I would have jumped in wearing a tuxedo made of diamonds," he replied, dead serious. "I will always jump in after you, (Y/N)."
The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket. Thomas chose that moment to hop down from Tim's lap, padding away with an air of feline discretion.
"Even my cat approves of you," you murmured, trying to lighten the moment even as your heart raced. "He never likes anyone."
Tim's hand found yours, his thumb tracing patterns on your palm. "Maybe he just knows what I've known for a long time."
"And what's that?" Your voice was barely above a whisper.
He leaned closer, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek. "That I'm completely, utterly in love with you."
The world seemed to stop, narrowing down to just this moment â the soft brush of his thumb against your cheekbone, the warmth of his hand in yours, the way his eyes held yours with an intensity that took your breath away.
"Tim," you breathed, "Iâ"
"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted gently. "I just needed you to know. After tonight, after almost losing you... I couldn't keep pretending these feelings don't exist."
You shifted closer, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath your palm. "What if I want to say something?"
His breath caught, hope flickering across his features. "Then I'm listening.â
"If I tell you the truth," your voice barely a whisper in the dim light of your apartment, "everything changes. We can't go back."
Tim shifted closer, the leather of your couch creaking softly beneath him. His hand was still on your cheek, thumb tracing invisible patterns that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe I don't want to go back."
"The press would have a field day," you breathed, but didn't pull away. "Vicki Vale would write headlines for weeks. 'Wayne Heir Falls for Assistant: A Modern Cinderella Story.'"
His lips curved into a half-smile, eyes dark with something that made your heart stutter. "Let them write. I'll buy every newspaper in Gotham if I have to."
"Bruceâ"
"Bruce has his own complicated love life to worry about," Tim murmured, his forehead coming to rest against yours. Your noses brushed, and you could feel his breath against your lips. "Besides, he's not the one I'm in love with."
The word hung between you, heavy with promise and possibility. Your fingers curled into the soft material of his shirt, anchoring yourself to this moment, to him.
"The board would talk," you tried one last time, even as your resolve crumbled like sand. "Your reputationâ"
"Listen to me," Tim's voice was low, urgent. His other hand came up to frame your face, holding you like something precious. "I would give up Wayne Enterprises tomorrow. The money, the reputation, all of it. I'd walk away from everything if it meant having this â having you â for even a moment."
Your breath caught in your throat. "You can't mean that."
"Try me." His eyes met yours, blazing with an intensity that made you tremble. "Just say the words, (Y/N). Tell me you feel it too. Tell me I'm not alone in this."
Thomas chose that moment to leap onto the back of the couch, letting out a disapproving meow at the tension in the room. You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped, even as tears pricked at your eyes.
"Even my cat is telling me to stop being stubborn," you whispered.
Tim's thumb brushed away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. "Smart cat."
You took a shaky breath, finally letting yourself say what you'd been holding back for so long. "I love you too. God help me, Tim Drake, but I'm completely in love with you."
The smile that broke across his face was like sunrise â slow, warm, and absolutely beautiful. He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, his eyes scanning your face as if memorizing every detail.
"Say it again," he breathed.
"I love you." The words came easier now, like they'd been waiting all this time to break free. "I love your brilliant mind, and your terrible coffee addiction, and the way you look at three in the morning when you're finally solving a problem that's been bothering you all day. I loveâ"
He kissed you.
It wasn't like the movies â there were no fireworks, no swelling orchestra. Instead, it was soft and sweet and achingly tender, like coming home after a long journey. His hands cradled your face like you were made of spun glass, even as yours fisted in his shirt to pull him closer.
When you finally broke apart, both breathless, Tim rested his forehead against yours again. "We're going to figure this out," he promised. "The press, the board, Bruce â none of it matters. We'll face it together."
"Together," you echoed, the word tasting like a promise on your lips.
From his perch on the couch, Thomas let out another creaky meow, as if sealing the deal. Tim laughed, the sound rich and warm.
"Does this mean I get joint custody of the cat?" he teased, reaching up to scratch Thomas behind the ears.
You smiled, leaning into his touch. "He already likes you better than me anyway."
"Impossible," Tim murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "But I'll settle for second place in his affections, as long as I'm first in yours."
"Always," you whispered, and knew with absolute certainty that you meant it. Whatever came next â whatever headlines Vicki Vale wrote, whatever the board whispered, whatever challenges lay ahead â you would face it together.
And somehow, that made everything else seem insignificant in comparison.
Thomas purred his approval, settling between you like he'd always belonged there. Like all of this had always been inevitable, just waiting for the right moment to fall into place.
Maybe it had been.
.
.
.
Taglist:
@ahqkas
@prettyktarou
@a-candle-maker
@mact85
@babxtxxn-blog
@mercys-manic-episode
@lilithskywalker
@princesstrunkz
@a-taken-url
@hisjdjs
@mellowtunekitty
@awkwardcrowberry
@vintageroses10
#fluff#tim drake#timothy drake#tim drake x reader#red robin x reader#red robin#ceo!tim drake#assistant reader
56 notes
·
View notes
Note
Me watching my Inquisitor walk off with Solas at the end of the game like :) "aw cute ..hey if Mythal hadn't told you to stop would you have murdered her,," (I haven't played the other endings yet).
This!!!
(Obviously, not murdered her personally, but he absolutely had no qualms about doing the ritual once more - knowing the consequences of it.)
Let me preempt this by saying that I wanted there to be a happy/fulfilling ending to Solas and Lavellan. I'm not a blind hater! Just someone who finds it very hard to put my own Lavellan in the place of the 'Lavellan' provided to us in DATV.
The Solas/Lavellan relationship already was kind of iffy (power imbalance, constantly dragging her culture, removing her vallaslin/then dumping her, constantly lying to her, etc...) but DAI did a great job of making you feel sympathetic towards his plight - especially after Trespasser! He woke up in a world so divorced from his own that it was unrecognizable - the people he had done so much for were suffering from the consequences of his actions, justified as they may have been at the time (stopping the evanuris). His actions led to great suffering in the pursuit of preventing even greater suffering.
Even after we learned of his plans in Trespasser, it was very much: "cool motive, still murder."
I felt sympathetic towards Solas and the implication that we could change his mind, given to us in Trespasser, gave me hope that we would be able to convince him of another path. That he could find a place in Thedas as it is now and look to the future. That was why I chose the option to try and get through to Solas, despite knowing that his plan would lead to mass death/terror if it went ahead.
I always expected the Veil to fall at some point, but i was hoping there'd be some more nuance to it than: veil gone, demons everywhere, lots of people die. Well, I was very wrong lmao.
But, if anything, the game made me entirely unsympathetic towards Solas.
The moment he started his ritual he chose the old elven empire over Lavellan - over her family, friends, home, culture, and anything else she may have loved/valued.
And he did this twice.
He chose to pursue lowering the Veil - knowing that thousands would likely die. For all his insistence of 'minimizing the damage' he went in knowing that many more people would die because of his actions. There was no justification of stopping the evanuris this time either - no excuse of not knowing the potential consequences of his actions like the first time.
He chose to begin the ritual that ended up releasing the Elven Gods - knowing full well the risks it entailed.
He killed Varric - whether by accident or not, it was by his hand.
He chose to use blood magic to manipulate Rook into thinking that Varric was alive - puppeting his corpse around in Rook's eyes and putting his words into Varric's mouth.
He chose to manipulate, mold, and guilt Rook into the old 'switcheroo' in his mind palace/regret prison
He chose to 'free' the elven people by bringing down the Veil - regardless of their feelings about it (elven Rook can call him out on this!), never mind the consequences or ramifications of a bunch of people suddenly having their bodily autonomy overwritten by now being magic/having immortality.
He looked at the devastation caused the by the Gods and still went ahead with trying to bring down the veil again.
These are the thing he does in-game - not even mentioning making the dwarves/titans tranquil, creating the blight, started the chain of events that led to SOUTHERN THEDAS BEING DESTROYED, and taking my good gear from Inquisition!
Aside from the 'all lore leads to Solas' reveal just being really dull it also does nothing to help with making me sympathetic to him as a character. The audacity of this man to say: "it was like walking in a world of tranquil" when he fucking lobotomized the dwarves/titans is wild in retrospect.
If he didn't do the ritual at the beginning, if something else went wrong and that resulted in the God's being released, I could understand why a Lavellan would still want to get through to him. It would make sense - she could stop him from doing it again at the end too! You can still have him conflicted and torn between the restoring the past or pursuing the future - but this doesn't happen!
He never chose Lavellan in this game! Hell, it's Mythal who convinces him to stop?!! He owes her nothing! He's learned nothing from this!!! He's only stopped because Mythal 'pardoned/freed' him - once again showing that he values the ancient elves/mythal over her!!!
How impactful would it have been to have him choose Lavellan over Mythal! To show us this! Mythal, who 'crawled through the ages for a reckoning' (which was retconned to her being sad about the elves lmao) telling Solas to go through with the ritual and him touching grass and saying 'no'.
It's something I feel was wildly out of character for him as well - he never came across in DAI as being subservient to Mythal, if anything the ending cutscene gave me the impression they were equals?!
After everything he did in this game - after all we learn about what he did in the past - I had no interest in reasoning/appealing with his ass. None whatsoever. My inquisitor/Lavellan asking if Solas can be reasoned with only made me regret making that choice - perhaps other people's inquisitor's would say that, but mine would not, especially after everything that happened in game.
She came across as delusional: standing on the ruins of a blighted Minrathous, the south blighted to hell, dead all around them, blight tentacles everywhere, a gaping hole in the Fade right next to them:
Lavellan: "I forgive you! All you have to do is stop." Solas: "But I cannot."
Boom! There it is.
At this point it's not romantic, it's just sad! Sad that she's spent 10 years pining after a man who seemed to learn nothing at all from what happened in DAI.
------------------------
There should have been some sort of a dialogue option with Lavellan right before you go into the big fight - she can ask you what you think of Solas, if he's truly regretful for everything that happened, and then you can give her an answer that can 'change' her approach to Solas in the end - giving the player some agency as to how their Inquisitor would actually respond to this.
Ending One: Bye Bye Bye
Rook: "HE'S A GUY."
alternatively, "Look around you! Look at what Solas has done - what he's threatening to do even now after all of this! You gave him every chance to turn away from this path. So did Varric...and look at what he did!"
Lavellan is bitter/angry with Solas: "It seems we never were people to you after all."
Refers to him as 'Fen'harel' and not Solas - dig the knife in deeper, give us angst!
"Just go. You love the Fade, don't you? Enough to do all this - enough to kill Varric for your pride in a dead world that no longer exists. We were never 'real' to you, were we?"
Solas says his goodbyes, expresses his love, and Lavellan steps back.
Solas leaves voluntarily, his 'situation-ship very much over', to stew in his regrets for the rest of his life.
Ending Two: Bittersweet Goodbye
Rook: "Girl, it's been 10 years."
alternatively, "You loved him once, perhaps you still do even now - after all he's done - but love wasn't enough. Love does not excuse this."
Lavellan is firm with Solas, does not excuse his actions, but has a bitter sweet farewell: "I had hopedâŠit doesn't matter what I hoped. You made your choice - it wasn't me. It wasn't our friends. It wasn't this world. You can make a choice now - if I ever mattered you. If I, if our friends, were ever real to you."
They can have a final goodbye, a goodbye smooch, and then he can go off to the Fade.
Bittersweet ending - acknowledge what they had and then provide closure.
Ending Three: Happy Ending (?)
Rook: "He didn't mean it babe. He's tots sorry."
alternatively, "He seems to regret what's happened - I've seen his memories, his regrets. He believes this is the only path he has. Perhaps you can convince him to find another."
Default Lavellan ending basically
"There is no fate but the love we share" blah blah blah
As happy an ending as it can be when you have Lavellan fuck off to the Fade - leaving behind her life, friends, family, and whatever remains of the world for an eternity.
I'm being mean but I genuinely wanted a happy/fulfilling ending for them both too - despite the fact that this game seems to want that ending as well, it did little to convince me of that. :(
I genuinely liked Solas in DAI - despite his flaws, I thought his romance was compelling and I was hoping to be able to convince him to change/alter his path. I can see what they were trying to do with him in DATV but it's so hard to feel sympathy for him when we see/know the results of his actions. The story in this game is doing anything but convincing me to give him a 'happy ending'.
'Love' can't excuse what he did and neither would my Lavellan.
Also RIP Sandal's Prophecy about the Fade lmao
#super compelling character#stuck in a very uncompelling story#if you're happy with the ending I'm glad! my Lavellan would have kicked his ass though#hard to feel sorry for a guy who ends up inadvertently nuking the world while planning to do a ritual that will kill thousands#Oops I accidentally pressed the nuclear missile codes instead of the regular missile codes my mistake tee hee#i would have LOVED the chance to try and change his mind btw - I WANTED TO SAVE HIM#Gareth David-Lloyd was the highlight of this game#which makes this all the more depressing#delivered the performance of a lifetime for this trainwreck of a romance ending#I've also read the post about the ending mirroring andraste and the maker and I honestly think it's pretty cool but...#counterpoint: she's Dalish#fuck the chantry#DAI Solas is superior change my mind#wasn't reduced to an exposition machine either#my cat stepped on my laptop while writing the post - i copied and pasted his message to u all:#uyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy126qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw12qw5rtt#words of wisdom#datv spoilers#datv critical#bioware critical#dragon age the veilguard#solavellan critical
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK
SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.
WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!oc, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.
AUTHORS NOTE ; changes are being made! see this post to learn more. to me, this part seems a little like a filler, but i want to explore veronica as a character and develop each relationship with each character as something more than a side character, not just honing in on her relationship with jj, which of course is a huge part of the story also.
part one. part two. part three.
when veronica begins to stir, the sun had long set. there was no way of knowing how long the pair had been asleep, all she knew was the lights of the chateau were off and there was a bright pink post it note stuck to jjâs head.
âgone fishinâ. jb pissed.â
pope signed off on the note, a small smiley face drawn inside the o of his name. veronica knew the pouges hadnât actually gone fishing, that is was some sort of code jj would decipher when he came to.
in this moment, veronica was content. wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful person sheâd ever seen.
what could only be described as a war was ongoing in her head. she wasnât exactly one to believe in love at first sight, she thought this entire âsparkâ thing was something made up by male authors to keep women reading their shitty romance books to keep them hooked, waiting for it to happen to them.
but then she met jj, and he was like a magnet. every time veronica was in his presence she was mesmerised, whenever he was gone she felt like all the colour was drained from the world.
there was only two problems.
there was a maximum of forty eight hours that they knew each other, add to that he was her brothers best friend, then add to that said brother made it crystal clear that inter-group dating was not allowed.
oh, and then the whole ânobody knows iâm his sister but usâ thing.
âyouâre staring, babyâ jj mumbled, his voice low and tired as he stirred beneath her âcanât say i blame youâ
with a sarcastic scoff, veronica sits upright in the hammock, her legs laid out across the blonds lap âjust admiring the drool on your faceâ
âarenât you funny.â
comfortable silence follows, jj crosses his arms behind his head and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. even though she was staring off into the water, veronica could feel jjâs eyes on her.
âcan i help you?â veronica quipped, a teasing lilt to her words as she face the boy in question âuse your words, youâll get there.â
unexpectedly, jj sighs and lets his head fall back âwhat am i doing?â
veronica knows he didnât intent for her to hear him, but she did. she would be lying if she said she wasnât disappointed, but she was even more disappointed in herself at the pang of sadness that hit her.
before she can say, or do, anything, jj is sat up a little straighter and speaking again.
âlisten, youâre a really cool girl,â he pauses, shaking his head and starting again âyouâre hot as shit, damn it!â
barely, veronica manages to mask her giggle with a cough.
âdonât ask me how or why, but i gotta tell you iâm super into you.â he blurts out âyeah, makes no fuckinâ sense, we barely know each other, no pouge on pouge macking, you ainât feeling me like that-â
her body is moving before her brain can even comprehend what sheâs doing, chipped nail polish framing blond hair as she held his face in her hands and pressed their lips together.
then, her brain kicks in, and veronica jumps back like sheâd just been burnt.
âfuck, jay iâm so sorry. i wasnât thinking,â
seconds pass agonisingly slow and veronica canât help but think about just how badly she had just fucked up.
but she doesnât get to overthink for long.
a calloused hand tangled in long, brown hair. the other gripping her waist like it was a lifeline, helping her into his lap as his tongue makes its way into her mouth.
the kiss is messy, itâs desperate. like two people drowning, taking in the other like they were air. hands cling to whatever they can, afraid if they let go it would all be over.
any reservations veronica may have had about âthe sparkâ were discarded, undermined even, this wasnât a spark, it was fireworks.
but fireworks donât last forever, and when the sound of john bâs rickety van can be heard drawing closer. the newfound excitement being dulled by the shadow known as a protective older brother, a protective best friend.
by the time the missing pouges pour out of the twinkie, veronica and jj are in much less compromising positions, now sitting beside each other trading menial conversation about the earlier events of the day.
âwelcome back to the land of the living,â kiara teases, a yellow vape coming up to her mouth as she took a hit âyou two were out cold.â
instinctively, veronicaâs hand shot out, wordlessly pleading for a hit of her vape. with a groan, kie handed it over.
veronica lets her head fall back against the hard oak of the tree behind her, relishing the feeling of her first hit of nicotine in two days. she had a vape when she left home, but it died before she even made it to the outer banks and being broke meant she couldnât even go buy a replacement.
âyou couldâve woke us up, yâknowâ jj defended, trying his hardest to act as if nothing happened, reminding himself to stop staring.
pope scoffs, not missing the longing stares sent the brunettes direction but purposefully ignoring them âwe tried, it nearly cost us our lives.â
unamused, john b walks past the rest of the group in silence. when he gets to the door of the chateau he looks over his shoulder and nods for veronica to follow.
the girl is suddenly more attentive, climbing over the human embodiment of a golden retriever and padding her way into the house behind the older of the two.
âdoes the name redfield mean anything to you?â john b questions, passing a beer from the fridge and getting one for himself âlike, the surname.â
veronica is quiet, her finger tracing the rim of the can as she goes through every crevice of her brain in search of any name even remotely close, thereâs only one.
âchris redfield.â she answers with a nod, popping the tab of the can and taking a swig âbut i donât get how heâs involved.â
âwhy not? who is he!?â
âa video game character.â
with a huff of annoyance john b drags a chair across the kitchen to sit beside veronica, unscrewing his compass and placing it down on the table. the name âredfieldâ is carved into the metal.
âwe went back to the boat, found a motel key, whatever.â john b shrugs off the rest of their findings, more invested in whoever this redfield person was. âthen i remembered when you showed me that note, the one in the compass. then i found this, figured you would know more than i do.â
veronica gently traced the carved metal, it was definitely their fathers scrawl, sheâd memorised it from the note she read over and over and over.
it couldnât be a coincidence, her fathers note asking her to meet, the matching compasses. now this?
âif iâm going to help you, i need to know..â she trailed off, biting at the edges of her nails as she wondered how to phrase her next question âdoes this have anything to do with dad dying?â
âheâs not dead.â john bâs voice is louder, stern. then his face softens and he tears his gaze away from the compass and to the floor âsorry, just, i know heâs out there. and this? this is proof.â
âjohn b, i get it.â the younger routledge speaks slowly, trying not to tread on any toes âyouâre not the only one who wants him to be alive, that needs to see him. but i donât see how thisââ
âdad found the royal merchant. four hundred million dollars in gold, and he found it. heâs trying to tell us where to find it.â
veronica sighs, fingers rubbing at her tired eyes as she once again tried to think of any connection to any redfield. when it came to family, she only knew the bare minimum, her fathers name and her mothers maiden name.
what she did know, however, was the royal merchant. as a child her father sent her maps and books on birthdays and christmases without fail, until one day they stopped.
âyouâve got books and stuff, right?â she finally asked, not wanting to get either her or john bâs hopes up. a nagging feeling was telling her their dad was alive, but she knew he wouldnât just up and abandon his son.
the walls of her fathers study feel like theyâre closing in on her, john b let her inside and left her to it. veronicas hand ghosts over the framed maps and dusty books. blueprints of ships with her fathers messy scrawl written randomly around the paper.
thereâs pictures of john b littered all over the office, all different life stages, a few feature jj and veronica canât help but smile at the photo of two little boys holding a fish between them.
on the desk thereâs a picture frame, immediately veronica recognises her mother, years younger and a gentle hand placed on her tummy. in the same frame, thereâs an ultrasound that veronica almost bypassed as john b, but when she looked at the date it was a long time after he was born.
it was her ultrasound.
it was her in her moms tummy, framed and proudly placed right on her fathers desk.
everything comes back at once. finding the note, and in turn the years worth of letters her mother had hidden from her. the dateline special with john b pleading for information about his father, their father. the fight with her mother, packing a bag in the middle of the night and making her way to the address stored safely inside her compass.
the tears donât register until they hit the glass of the frame, the last few weeks of pent up anger, sadness and hurt bubbling over from the flame that single photo sparked.
her dad loved her.
for years sheâd heard about her absent father, then the absent father that passed when she was a baby. the father who didnât want the responsibility of a child and ran away once he found out.
but the letters, the compass, this picture? john routledge loved the daughter he was forbidden from seeing, from the second he knew about her he loved her.
and now he was dead.
a sudden wave of anger rushes from her head to her toes, glass shattering when she throws the dusty old frame against the wall with a scream. papers fly and maps fall from the walls as she turns her fathers office into her own personal rage room.
the racket coming from the small room shakes the chateau, so itâs no surprise when the pouges come crashing through the door.
the pouges eyes briefly flash with fear when their eyes land on the destruction caused by the newest arrival, but itâs quickly replaced by a familiar sadness when veronica crumples to the ground, screaming as loud as her lungs would allow for them to get out.
they donât know whatâs wrong, but it doesnât matter. veronica was now considered a friend, and they gathered thatâs what she needed right about now.
jj is the first to enter, drawing closer slowly as if he were being cautious âitâs okay, ronnie.â he mutters softly, dodging shattered glass as he knelt beside her âweâre here, we got you.â
kiara, john b and pope are close behind, wrapping veronica in what could only be described as a group hug until her tears subsided.
taglist!
@ren-ni @marleymarleymarleymarley @miidollaasignnn @rainingcecilias @tanyaherondale @xspideyhollandx @sluterainterlude @loverofmarsss @xoxo-ada @gigistalked @genderlessmenance
#maybanksmusings#jj maybank x oc#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj mayback x reader#jj obx#john b routledge#jj maybank x routledge!reader#john booker routledge#john b outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe outer banks#outerbanks#outer banks#OBX#obx season 4#rafe obx#obx4
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
el watch and working on fanfiction has me thinking of the nature of why we pursue beauty and all that shit. to be honest rewatching el and w7 always makes me think about that. i have never thought anything else was as beautiful as i do that story. like, brutal and intimate, but beautiful. its definitely part of why i pursue OP fanfiction is conveying at least a little bit of why one piece is as beautiful as it is and if i can get at that in fanfiction, convey that in a kind of emotion to digest to anaylsis to reproduction kind of process, that means i understand that beauty right? if i can write nico robin or usopp good enough that means i can convey what i think is beautiful in ways that are articulate. I'll have "beaten" the emotion of inarticulation and distilled beauty that was me watching one piece for the first time. but everytime i think ive beaten it i find new ways to articulate how beautiful it is, its really fucking hard to look at something and find it truly beautiful. ive never found anything as beautiful as i do one piece. and i feel really fucking cheesy saying it, because beauty is so subjective and therefore i kind of felt like i was above articulating something as beautiful before this. beautiful is an adjective for the inarticulate. but it's not, and i have never seen beauty like i have in water 7 and el i have never seen beauty like i have in that constructed narrative. there is something deeply beautiful and scary and dangerous about how nico robin screams. or how franky says he loves them all, or how usopp shoots down the flag. and i dont know i could never come up with this, i couldn't really conceive as something like any of this before being told this story. and im like, incredibly surprised something so beautiful and articulate could be created in the early 2000s, but i would if it were created in any time period. im just kind of in awe that it exists. I'm even more in awe that someone could articulate something that i didn't know myself was even fully aware of here in the present a year after i was born. i dont know how you could even conceptualize the need for this narrative when i didnt even know i wanted it when i experienced it in 2023 let alone concieve of the need for it in the year 2004 It's the emotion I feel of "How did oda concieve of something for me when I was 1 year old. how did he know"
I like feeling small and admitting defeat on articulating how beautiful it is. I like feeling small in nico robins beauty, its very comforting. its how i view all of franky and usopp too (usopp almost to the same amount and in a multitude of different ways i think) but especially her. its just comforting to feel small in her presence. i suppose thats why shes my favourite character, i dont know how a character/someone can feel so beautiful and so grounded at the same time, thats insane to me. its insane to me that oda can create such a beautiful character that gets me to admire things i know suck shit about my own personality but i look at her like shes the only person in the entire world. how.
#modposts#fanfiction#nico robin#usopp#i rewatched el for the third time#and then cried while writing this. nothing makes me cry about the nature of beauty like nico robin does#enies lobby#water 7#i think i love her more than i love anything in this entire world#ANOTHER âi love nico robinâ post? on this blog?#its infinitely more likely than you think
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
iâm always thinking about how dal never knew his parents and the only mother figure he had sold him into slavery as a child and then it turns out he never even had parents, he was just a failed experiment. and then his next mother figure is simply a hologram of a famous admiral who then deceives him before âdyingâ. but the real janeway cares for him so much, and defends and advocates for him in court and wants him to join her crew
#this is not anti holo janeway btw i love her itâs just. as soon as they gain a parent they immediately lose her#sometimes i think about how they modified holo janeway so they could hug her. someone get these kids some parental figures STAT#just. dal having to sleep in the engine and literally being SOLD INTO SLAVERY#after never knowing who he even was#feeling so worthless his entire life#yet finally finding his purpose among his crew on the protostar#and being taken under THE admiral janeways wing#he justtttt. does such a good job at being captain#he cares for his crew so much#bc he knows what itâs like to be forgotten and cast aside!! they all do!!#and cares for them and protects them and just loves them more than anything in the world#and heâs no longer a failed experiment but a confident leader! whoâs not alone anymore!#ohhhhh i love him#star trek#star trek prodigy#dal r'el
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dunno how you did this (private ask answer thing) it's confusing me (pretty normal and unsurprising) but either way here we go, infecting my blog with oc stuff one post at time.
If you've seen any of my recent non-reblog posts, and even some of the reblogs, you'd know I have a little character in @wolftheidioticfan's serverbox au!
Well I got bored and had many thoughts and sort of made an AU of an AU in true Undertale AU fan fashion. And she's adaptable into the regular askblog canon version if I ever want to use her. I also did a bunch of editing on this. Turns out the thoughts can be coherent enough to put in writing! Fun!
Meet Dahlia "Dot/Dee aka DeeDotPinnata" Dosser. (Her username comes from the scientific name for the dahlia flower: D. Pinnata or Dahlia Pinnata)
Dee has a Kinito herself, she was a little off put by the little guy, with him being so intrusive she had some thoughts about the potential malware she had installed on her device. And she still stuck it out anyways, the creepy little axolotl was just too adorable to get rid of even if it was a virus. She knows that's how they get you, they make their malware friendly and cute and you don't get rid of them because just look at them, something that cute couldn't be that harmful.
Dee slowly started to realize there was more to this KinitoPET program than your run of the mill malware. It had thoughts and feelings and sometimes even stopped pretending it was following code. The way it acted. The way they acted. Just proved to Dee that Kinito was more than some code, they were alive. She was a little smarter than Kinito, who she'd nicknamed Kaio, gave her credit for, the program wasn't as good at hiding their jealousy and would complain when Dee would go hang out with her in person friends. Dee didn't take this disrespect lightly, she ignored them every single time they bitched about her other friends (especially Scar, who Dee was far closer too than anyone else). They would be doing something she'd mention Scar, Kinito bitches about how they're her only friend, she stops, and walks away from the computer to do something else, usually in a place her webcam can see her still. Kaio eventually agrees that Scar can be her best friend too, if they have to share they're only sharing with Scar, none of those other people sound even remotely good enough to be his best friend's second best friend.
When Kinito eventually asks her to stay with him in the digital world, she calmly asks, "how does it happen?"
He reluctantly explains the process over her dying in the process of bringing her physical body in (more intensive and Kaio would need a lot of power to do it) or dying during a stage of the process leaving her physical body behind (less intensive, will have less power stress on Kaio as he does it). She says unless Scar is with her, she won't do it, she can't just leave him behind. But she'll make a compromise, Kaio can transfer from the desktop to her phone, this is like mid-late 2000s (I actually don't know when Serverbox is set, I try to leave it ambiguous on the blog itself, but the first touch screen phone was like 2006 so it works out, besides realism in my writing about a horror game starring an alive 90s malware program??) so it's not a great phone by today's standards but hey, it works. And now they're always with her.
It's great for a while, Dee continues to make her trips to Blairmore from Pincher Creek (these towns are randomly selected sort of. I'm an Alberta Rockies kinda guy, would love to live there. Crowsnest Pass was stuck on the brain, watched a video about the Frank slide a week or two ago. Also put the guy named Krow/Crow in the place called the Crowsnest Pass couldn't help it. Pincher Creek was random though needed somewhere with some distance from Blairmore that was also close enough to justify.) to visit Scar and everything is good and nice, she's got a best friend who's basically just a tamed virus, Kaio even begins to enjoy listening to and hanging out around Scar just as much as Dee does, even if Scar has no idea about them (Dee didn't want to freak him out with the whole, sentient computer program that was now on her phone).
Unfortunately, good times don't always get to last. Dee was in fatal car accident and it was a complete accident someone was going a little too fast on the highway, didn't see her until it was too late, a tbone collision. Kaio was with her when she gets into the crash. She knew she probably wasn't going to survive, she fumbled opening her phone and asked Kaio if she could stay with them after this, that if she was going to die anyways may as well spend whatever happens after with a friend. Kaio agreea and she's pulled in, just her consciousness, they probably couldn't even pull her physical body in with the phone anyways the server built on the device just wasn't strong enough. As soon as they brought Dee in though and there was a stable enough internet connection, Kaio was quick to transfer them both to the official KinitoPET servers.
Similar to Scar she's gained access to the internet both with and without Kaio. Differing from Scar however I thought it would've been cool for both her and Kaio where off the servers during the deletion and server shutdowns. Kaio tried to get back in unsuccessfully, they didnt and don't know about the emails, and even on the servers they stuck to themselves. While they did and do stay locked out, they stuck around the servers, as close as one can be in digital space. Building their own little world nearby, hidden from others safe and comfortable.
I haven't drawn her or Kaio yet but I love them both so much. Kaio is like 5'0 little form and 9'0 big form. He's got a scarf that Dee made when she was learning how to code, it's magic how it works in his little form really, computer physics are silly like that. And while I haven't shown it off yet, I have an idea for Keys made too, all drawn and even coloured just for fun while coming up with pallet ideas. Dee and Scar have matching bracelets. Dee and Kaio have matching bracelets. Scar and Keys had matching bracelets. For the Nitos it's around their ankle instead.
I also totally stole the name Kaio from OKKO. But like come on, it's perfect. I show my love for different types of media by taking character names as my own.
#crows can use keyboards?#crow's content#lastintheserverbox#serverbox au#if you see any mistakes no you don't#my spelling mistakes are between me and god i think#kinitopet#kinitopet oc#i love Dee and Kaio#they're like a more happy version of Scar and Keys#not that Dee doesn't have her moments when she misses her other friends more than anything in the world#also probably when she found out Scar was found dead in his home seemingly murdered and tortured?#that probably wasn't a great time for her#she doesn't know he's in there with her#she doesn't know he's as alive to her as he could be#anyways infecting my blog with oc content one serverbox au post at a time#like I think I've said before i have never gotten this invested in an askblog before this is all so new and exciting to me#and if you read this far did you notice the bracelet section?#''Dee and Scar *have*'' ''Dee and Kaio *have*'' '' Scar and Keys *had*''#i also do have in the au of an au version where they're able to salvage Keys codes and bring him back#but that's not for the ask blog Scar can be sad there he's got new friends#new friends hes entirely cut off from because the servers are closed and he's very much not physical like the others#forgot a tag#serverbox (KP) au#cw car accident#cw character death
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
such is the tale of a âšchronically online hypocriteâš
#(please forgive this old folkâs rambling for a hot min bc i need to get this off my chest somehow and in some way)#tl;dr: come and get into the hw idol series!!! we have ship discourse; more ship discourse; even more ship discourse#(yes ik people should be free to ship what they do b u t claiming a noncanon ship as canon and forcing it on everyone else is. not cool.)#yes yes fridayâs mv was visually cute and ino.rinâs singing was peak b u t i feel like it has caused more harm than good in some way???#i cant b e l i e v e the jp hwtwt beef over fridayâs mv is still going on mannnnnnnnn#no less than 3 separate people have made posts along the lines of#âp l s stop using [official tags] to post about *[unnamed] non-official ships* p l s thereâs a time and place for everythingâ#and n o n e of them even remotely run in the same circles yet theyâre all banded together against a *certain* group lmfao never change hwtwt#lhy (esp yhy) shippers are always at the scene of the crime mannnnnnn#i cant see anything on their end of the naval battle (has every single lhy tag+account that i could think of blocked)#b u t itâs still really funny to witness on my twtdash against my will. i think i need to touch grass#âkyhn isnât canon either so why do you like it while being such a hater towards lhyââ#great question!!!!!! itâs bc (disregarding the movie) they actually interact really well together~~~ like the honeypre event y kâ#and also bc yukki treats hina really nicely all the time (even when she was being tsun and literally running from her feelings for him)#a n d hina loved him for who he truly was; even before his image change arc. and she also does her best to appeal to him and such~~~~~~~#but lhy. uh. they just bully hiyo 95% of the time and while they do look out for her bc theyâre pals#theyâre just pals. guys. and lxl have gone âuwu it must be u uwuâ to each other one too many times so shoehorning hiyo between them would.#be pretty weird ngl? esp since the âwidely acceptedâ portrayal of lhy as a trio is p much just hiyo x 2 dudes who dont even like each other#and. like. a branch of such portrayals usually seem to have aizo waft away from the âr/s triadâ to date mona instead which is. very weird.#some people just pick and choose aizo and mona interactions dont they. all they see is the umbrella scene and go âah yes. canonâ#they dont even read further to see how mona doesnât even use the umbrella after aizo leaves (clear rejection)#a n d how aizo doesnât even remember giving the umbrella to mona + monaâs entire existence in general after that#and thatâs not even counting the grudge mona refuses to let go of even after what looks to be literal months#so for certain shippers to just casually shoo aizo out of the hiyoharem and into monaâs unwilling arms for the sake of yhy is. weird.#and like. shouldnât he and yujiro have a say in this?? theyâre more interested in each other than hiyo so just how are they being commonly#portrayed as hiyosimps in fanon? im so confused⊠like. wouldnât they be equally obsessed with each other (as w/ hiyo) if they were a rstrio?#aaaaaa get this off my twtdash plsssssssss pls see this post twtapp pls let this affect your dumb algorithm im tired of the ship discourseee#as funny as the âlhy vs the worldâ naval warfare is itâs getting. um. very annoying!!!! and now im missing nagisa more than ever s o b s#plsplsplsplsplsplsplsplspls influence the algorithm ragepost; ik big brother is đwatchingđ so do your thingâ#(pls feel free to duke it out with me too if yâall read this i need my birdsite algorithm to le a r n that i dont wanna see stuff like this)
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kind of endearing that despite their obvious strained dynamic Utahime and Gojo trust each other
#It's sort of like Nanami and Gojo's dynamic but Nanami ignores him and Utahime is incensed#Despite how irresponsible Gojo is she doesn't doubt Gojo is telling her the truth#He was extremely rude with her about her being weak and lacking the guts to be the traitor#But in part I guess he was messing up with her. In part I guess he trusts her too#And that's sort of endearing#Again a bit like what Nanami and Gojo have going on#But Utahime seems to dislike Gojo more than Nanami does#Utahime and Gojo seem to have a bit that fondness you develop for stains on a wall. A stain or a patch that wasn't quite well painted#But that has accompanied you through your entire childhood for instance. Your father painted the room and you chose that exact blue colour#but there's a patch that wasn't well painted. It's in a corner and no one noticed it but you know it's there and it annoys you#And it's there during your childhood perhaps. It's there during your teens years#It lives through the posters changing and the heartbreak and the friendships being born and dying and it's always there#It always annoys you but it's always there.And when you leave home for college or whatever you put your life in boxes and move the furniture#and finally you look at the stain and for one momentâ for one instant before covering it with a fresh layer of paintingâ you look at it#And in that instant you almost kind of feel fondness for that stain. For that constant through your life. Even if it annoyed you#That's sort of the air Utahime and Gojo give me haha#I don't know. The intimacy of constancy if nothing else is something I love#That knowing each other because of the years in common and knowing where you both went through. And that almost fondness it brings at times#Heathcliff with Hindley and sort of Edgar. Charles and Adam. Or that one classmate you quite didn't like entirely and were never close to#but if one says something the other would understand it's a reference to the French teacher you had in the second year of middle school#and reply in kind. And laugh perhaps. And in that moment you could almost imagine you could have been friends#Well. That kind of vibe Utahime and Gojo give me. Which is. I don't know. It's kind of cute?#In the context of the madness of this Jujutsu world#I'm overall loving the glimpses we see into the dynamic Gojo has with the adults in his life#I think his dynamic with Ijichi is my favourite for now. Surprised I don't see them more in a shippy context#with how much I see Gojo and Nanami or Gojo and Utahime and even Gojo and Shoko. Perhaps it's because ijichi isn't hot? I mean#I would understand that. It's a factor too. But I love that Gojo trusts him more than anything and I like that Ijichi understands him#and his kindness beyond his rudeness and I am biased and love the Megumi parallel. Not into the 'or I will slap you' thing though but okay#ANYWAY yeah xD I love Gojo's dynamics with the adults. I love when he sulked because Nanami told him gave the finger to the higher ups to#avoid Gojo giving it to Yuji but that despite and precisely for that Gojo SMILED and said 'I am glad I left you in change of him'. Love him
1 note
·
View note
Text
well i finished renegade. i sure was renegading all over the place
#it was alriiiight.... but man i hate to say it but i think i have more complaints than praises#i DID like florins new execution route and i liked talons deal. the entire end of night spell deal was horrifying and i loved it#i love that genre of horror like ''you die twice when you get forgotten after death''#so seeing it play out here was horrifying in a good way. talon and amber's deaths were both so fucking good like goddamn#they were just as heartbreaking as they needed to be. especially ambers like when you go talk to tesla after#but. man i dont think meta games are for me cause ngl i was sorta just like ''aight.'' to most of the meta here#like that was the one thing about talon i didnt care for. i thought ''everyone i know and love is going to die and god is screaming at me''#was a fine enough motivation to go crazy and become a rift. i thought it was compelling and tragic and a good thing to do#with a new character. but then he started going ''in older versions of the game i wasnt even there i was just a prop for the backstory''#and thats sorta when i started tuning out. like i cant explain why but i feel it made the scene more... cheap?#i think just cause personally ive seen that motivation a lot in meta games before and its gotten old to me#tbh the entire meta angle is whats really dragging this down to me. dont get me wrong i love eizen and his scenes#but i dont see why we have to canonize the game's update cycles as like a critical part of the world#and then theres m2 who i have mixed feelings on. cause i love the character type of ''ive been through so much shit idc anymore''#and they end up being kinda goofy and saying inappropriate/out of pocket things while trying not to discuss The Horrors#ive written more than one of those types of characters. but with m2 its like she doesnt know how to turn that off#like spacea and tiempa's deaths being a tera raid parody where they joke about being in a crashing plane and get bashed by extra melias#it just felt like. unfitting. (also a nitpick but goddamn that scene made my head hurt with how much the screen wobbled)#like really? this is the sendoff they get in the fucked up and evil route? and idk i just dont think m2 was all that funny.#she was more grating than anything tbh. and i just feel like her existence and the bad timeline is just Too Much#like there were already so many plotlines and arcs and do we Really need a new-ish character right before the climax#idk. im hoping v14 is more cohesive in this department#for now im taking a much needed break from this game lol
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
I understand 100% of nothing
#my plans for today were coming home straight from work and taking a nap before my doctor's appointment#instead they involved staying an extra hour at work because there was chaos with my first years#some of them were being absolute shitheads to one of their classmates who's adopted and has two dads#and a coworker made me reconsider my entire understanding of the universe by informing me that the former principal that i thought the#world of and who made me fall in love with teaching again is apparently being an asshole to everyone now because she quit (on purpose.#because she wanted to. because she became a school inspector) and the school has a new principal#which like?????? what did you think was going to happen???????#what did you expect us to do??????#what do you mean you care more about your own ego than about the children you taught me should be the center of everything we do#i don't even know how to begin processing anything that happened today#and my coworker was a shithead too on top of everything else cause she was like what school are you working at???? how come you don't know#any of this????#WELL WAS IT ON THE NEWSPAPER CAROL#how the hell was i supposed to know no one fucking told me#and I'm upset that no one bothered to inform me the school and therefore us as teachers are apparently under attack#i don't need the stupid gossip but someone should have told me I'm apparently working under hostile circumstances and parents may randomly#decide to pick on me#I'm just so mad at everyone grown ups are the fucking worst kids are absolutely right#anyway i didn't need to see my therapist about my parents being assholes but i need to talk to her after this#alex txt
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
ooof there goes my dad pissing me off with his opinions again
#personal#rewatching doctor who#'we don't need gay or disabled people in doctor who'#i was like well why not?#'because it's not about that. its about science fiction'#im like. wouldnt it be weird to deliberately not have queer ppl or disabled ppl?#those people exist in real life#'but its not real life it's sci fi!'#'im fine with gay people in drama programs bc thats real but not in sci fi!'#so... you literally think it would be less weird to deliberately exclude certain ppl#than to just... have those ppl in the show#if anything we should see MORE of a variety of ppl in sci fi#like this is a universe with parallel worlds. aliens. literally anything can happen#anything except queer or disabled people i guess?#like he wasnt even arguing they were unnecessary#but literally that they should not be there at all#bc the focus is sci-fi and not reality#but like... its showing those characters in the real world#that really helps us connect to them!#take the sontaran stratagem that we just watched#seeing donna and her interactions with her family is what makes us connect with her#it allows us to see ourselves in that character#and gives us that connection that makes us love her and root for her#the entire reason the doctor travels with a human companion#is to give us that connection#and that insight into his world from a perspective familiar to us
0 notes
Text
e s p r e s s o
â TAGS â boxer!jk, heâs a fanboy, pouty jkkkkkk, ocâs a idol, sugar daddy elements, fluffy, rom-com vibess, jkâs secretly a little sub who loves praise, praise kinks, making love, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, rough sex, pussy-eating, unprotected sex, creampies, very light dirty talk, ocâs a tease, jk just loves oc, some violence (nothing serious jk punches a guy), ocâs a pillow princess, mainly dom!jk, subby!oc who is a menace, jk is super protective and a good bf, he beats someone up for you, tit play
â WORD COUNT â 14.6 k
Jeon Jungkook was many thingsâcharismatic, âlover boyâ, charmingâbut the biggest one of all: a pain in the ass (for Yoongi). Jungkook was the type of guy to do whatever he wanted WHEN he wanted.
The kid had a strong backbone, Yoongi will give him that but it was an absolute nightmare dealing with the press for someone like Jungkook. Yoongi can count on his fingers how many times Jungkookâs gotten into heat for his loud ass mouth. Sometimes not all publicity was necessary whether it was good or bad in Yoongiâs opinion (not that anyoneâs ever asked).
âWhere is he? That little shitââ Yoongi growls behind gritted teeth as he storms through the gym towards the private training room Jungkook usually practiced in.
He slams the door open and locks eyes with his target, âThere you areâ!â
Jungkook stops in his tracks and turns around in surprise, âHyung?â Heâs confused as fuck because heâs been behaving himself lately, sooo what did he do now? âYoongi hyungâow! What the hell was that for?â
âHow many times did I tell your ass to keep your little flings under the radar? I told you: if youâre gonna be fooling around with people do it on the down low but no, you just gotta fucking let the world know huh?â Yoongi seethes, literally trembling with rage from where Jungkook stands.
Jungkook makes a confused noise, âBut I didnâtââ
âThen, what. The. Fuck. Is this?â Yoongi slaps his phone in Jungkookâs face, on it thereâs some tweet with an article linked to it.
Jungkook squints his eyes mumbling under his breath as he reads the tweet out loud, â..Idol l/n y/n caught in a dating scandal with infamous boxer Jeon Jungkookâwhatâs the big deal though, everyone usually ignores these types of things.â
Yoongi looks like he wants to scream, âKid you realize youâre a celebrity right?â Nod. âOkay, and sheâs a celebrity too right?â Nod. âSo why in the FUCK wouldnât this be a big deal? I mean, itâs not like weâre not talking about the nationâs âsweetheartâ here, the countryâs fucking pride and joy.â He really needs a fucking smoke right now.
âHyung itâs just a fucking rumor she probably doesnât even care or know about it, I donât see why youâre stressing out. Not like I know her either,â Jungkook carelessly says as he throws a few punches at the bag, âyouâre gonna end up bald with how youâre stressing right now.â
Yoongi takes a deep breath, in, out, in, out. âBecause, idiot,â emphasis on the idiot, âthis shit is getting out of control, you have any idea how many fucking news outlets are talking about this? For fucks sake the entire country is in shambles cause their âpreciousâ y/n is supposedly dating some lowlife boxer, no biggie really itâs not like I havenât been getting threats either over this little stunt of yours.â He glares.
Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh as he stops in his tracks, âHyung I didnât do anything, so fucking what if I posted a pic with my photocard, itâs MY photocard! Donât her fans do that shit too, so why is it a problem that I do it too?â
âBecause people think youâre dating now! They think youâre soft launching her or something!â Yoongi tugs at his hair, âYou realize if people find out you fucked with her just to get in her bed theyâre gonna lose it and not just on her but you mainly. You want a fucking witch hunt out for you? Because you know damn well they love her more than you.â
âOuch.â Jungkook grumbles petulantly.
âNo, ouch, use your fucking brain think about the damage youâll take all because you wanted to fuck their little princess.â Yoongi glares.
Jungkookâs almost offended that Yoongi would think of him like that. Sure he had his fair share of groupies and models but Jungkook wasnât a complete asshole about it! He had feelings too, heâs not sorry that he was fucking casually like any other normal person who was looking to unwind. It also isnât his fault that they labeled him a playboy.
In the eyes of the public Jungkook was a menace as there were rumors of him knocking models up and cheating on the girls heâs ever gotten spotted with. Everyday he woke up and there was something new that came out whether it was him âdatingâ or his flings coming out to talk about their one night stands.
Needless to say he didnât have the best public image.
âOkay let me stop you there, Iâm not after her for sex or anything. If you really want to know, I'm actually interested in her. I wanna get to know her some more and take things further yâknow?â He huffs and wipes the sweat off his brow with his shirt.
Yoongi scoffs, âYeah right, Iâll believe it when I see it.â As he finishes his sentence the door opens and Namjoon pops in with Seokjin, the two team members hauling in some duffle bags in tow.
âWhatâs going on? The hell Yoongi look so red for?â Namjoon huffs as he drops the bag gracelessly, âJungkook what did you do now?â He clicks his tongue in disappointment, tutting him like a misbehaved child.
Jungkookâs mouth drops open, this traitor! Heâs supposed to be on his side, not Yoongiâs. Seokjin interrupts with a loud cackle, âWhat didnât he do?â Another traitor! Jungkook canât believe this, his own hyungs against him.
âLong story short Romeo over here is in a dating scandalânot with just anybody though, fucking l/n y/n. Yâknow, the poster child.â Yoongi spits harshly, shooting Jungkook another pissy look while heâs at it.
Namjoonâs mouth drops open in shock, Seokjin actually looks pretty terrified too which is funny because if only he could see the face heâs making right now.
âNo way youâre insane for that, shit good luck with the press because they donât play about their little popstar.â Namjoon manages to utter once the shock passes.
Jungkook glares, âI didnât do anything! Theyâre mad Iâm showing off my photocard, I bet you that theyâre jealous because they donât have this one.â He huffs and thrusts his phone out to show them his phone case.
âWhat exactly did you do?â Seokjin laughs.
âNothing! I posted a mirror pic and I didnât expect a bunch of crazies to over analyze shit and spot the photocard. Not like itâs MY fault people make up narratives and shit.â Jungkook rolls his eyes and tucks his phone away safely in his pocket, âBut you know what, just wait and see.â
âWait and see what?â Namjoon snorts in amusement.
âHyung doesnât believe me but Iâm serious about her, Iâm gonna ask her out and from there maybe talk and get to know each other. One thing for sure sheâs gonna be my girl unless she slaps me in the face and tells me to leave her alone or somethin,â Jungkook grins as he elbows his still pissed off manager.
Seokjin looks at him with a shit-eating grin, âSure let me know how that ends up going for you.â
Jungkook purses his lips, âYouâll see..â
đ ïŸïœĄ â âĄ
They end up in Miami for a boxing match Jungkook has pending but his opponent ended up coming down with something so it got canceled. Now Jungkook has no clue what to do for an entire week and it doesnât help that heâs jet lagged, hungry, and tired. Not a good combination.
âDid they say when the match will be back on?â Jungkook mumbles boredly from his spot on the lounge chair in his hotel. Heâs slumped over scrolling down his phone looking at random shit on his feed.
âHard to tell Kook, apparently the guyâs really sick and can barely get outta bed or somethinâ. They said it was better to wait it out for a week and see what happens with him.â Yoongi sighs deeply, âFuck, just our luck too.â
Jungkook nods in agreement, âWhat do we do now hyung? Do we go back or..?â
Yoongi takes a seat on the opposite side of him with a shrug, âDunno, do whatever you want since the match is canceled. Me and Joon gotta stay back to talk with the event organizers and shit.â
He goes quiet for a few moments before sitting up, âOh wait thereâs an award show going on right now, they sent me an invite for you but I donât know if you wanna go or not.â
âAward show?â Jungkook makes a face but what other shit does he have to do? Itâs not like heâs got a match anymore anyways, maybe the after party will be cool or something. âI guess, why do they want me there?â
âAppearances for the pressâyou know, the usual.â Yoongi hums.
Jungkookâs lips are pursed as he looks around deep in thought. DOES he wanna go? Itâs not like this would be the first time theyâve asked him to make an appearance but Jungkook doesnât really like these types of things. Red carpets and interviews are so tedious and time consuming.
Waitâ
âHyung!â He suddenly gasps, âHoly shitâpass me my suit.â He says as he bolts away into the bathroom.
Yoongi looks at him in confusion, âWhat..kid what the hell are you on?â He snorts, âDonât tell me youâre excited to go to this thing.â Nonetheless he still takes out Jungkookâs suit for him and lays it on the bed.
âNo you donât understand,â Jungkook cuts off as he splashes his face with water, ây/n is probably gonna be there!â
ây/nâJungkook really?â Yoongi groans, âI thought you were playing around last time, I didnât think you were actually serious about it.â
Jungkook holds back his whine, âHyung you always think Iâm playing around, why isnât anyone taking me seriously about her! I swear I have good intentions.â
âI dunno, maybe cause you have a habit of sleeping with anything that walks and looks pretty to you. Or maybe the fact that youâve done this before. Should I remind you of that one model from Cancun?â Jungkook pouts, âOr the bartender chick from LA?â His pout deepens, âOr the girl from Paris?â
âOkay I get it!â Jungkook grumbles, âBut this time Iâm serious hyung, more than I ever been about someoneâespecially her.â He says with a sigh while changing out of his clothes and into the suit Yoongi laid out for him.
Yoongi sighs deeply, âLook all Iâm saying is to be careful how you go about this, itâs a lot at stake right now not just because of you being involved with her but the fact that the public has their opinions about you already as it is.â
Jungkook appreciates the sentiment but he doesnât need anyone to approve or disagree about his feelings. The public didnât deserve any explanations over what Jungkook chooses to do with his life, heâs here to fight and thatâs it. Not to be anyoneâs marionette or dress-up doll.
âI know hyung, thanks.â He smiles back and slips his blazer on, âIâll text you later on and tell you what happens.â Yoongi doesnât reply verbally rather with a low grunt, âSee ya.â Jungkook says with a final grin and heads out of the room down to the main lobby and into a car Yoongi had waiting for him.
On the way to the venue he checks out the award show on Instagram, he sees a lot of people he recognizes and a few new faces. His eyes scan over the page eagerly in hopes of seeing you on there. Are you performing tonight? Were you already there on the red carpet? Oh he bets you look absolutely divine tonight (you always do).
âYes!â He says a bit too loudly startling his driver in the process as he sheepishly apologizes.
Jungnkook finally comes across a post about you and he reads over the caption with an excited hum, biting his lip when he sees that you are performing after all. Heâs getting a mean adrenaline rush right now like the ones he usually gets before his matches. Just thinking about how heâs gonna get to meet you tonight is getting him all worked up. He wonders if youâll even give him the time of day.
Only one way to find out.
.
âJeon over here!â
âJeon, look here!â
âJeon, is it true you and y/n are dating?â Jungkook makes a point to ignore this and act like he didnât hear it even though heâs screaming on the inside.
The red carpetâs full of singers and models, the fans are screaming and reporters keep getting in his damn way as he tries to make his way through the crowd. Of course he stops for a picture or two with a fan, poses for the paparazzi too but heâs not concerned with them right now. He knows he must look a little lost with the way he keeps looking around like heâs trying to find something (yeah, you).
Jungkook almost frowns like a child who didnât get their way once he sees youâre not anywhere in sight. You probably already headed inside which sucks cause he really wanted to see you beforehand since it was probably arranged seating in there. At this rate he wonât be able to even say hiâ
âOh shit, my bad.â Jungkook says when he bumps into someone behind him. He turns around to apologize properly when his heart fucking stops. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygodâitâs you.
You look up at him with those dreamy eyes of yours, face scrunched up cutely (your lips pouty) in confusion as you tilt your head up (UP!) to look at him, âUm, youâre stepping on my dress.â Even your voice is so prettyyy.
âSorry my fault,â Jungkook steps back and kneels down to fix the rumpled state he left it in, vaguely aware of the fast flashing (the paparazzi must be eating this up), âlemme make it up to you though.â He says once he comes back up.
You tilt your head, âAnd how would you do that?â
âIâll buy you a new dress.â Jungkookâs dead serious too, if you asked him to buy you a whole house heâd do it in a heartbeat. Take everything at this pointâhave it.
âAnd who said I want you to buy me things?â You muse softly.
Jungkook chuckles softly and leans down to talk in your ear because the crowdâs getting louder and itâs hard to talk to you, âDonât be like that, if you let me take you out Iâll show you all the things I can buy you.â He murmurs low, voice husky.
You tilt your head to look at him, eyes dropping down to his lips and then back up as a coy smile plays at your soft lips, âYouâre funny.â You pat his cheek with a soft manicured hand and walk away.
His heart nearly skips a damn beat when you do that. Oh he swears he can still feel your soft hand sliding over his cheek when you walked away from him like the little tease you were. He doesnât know how long he stands there until he gets moving, a stupid grin on his face the entire time as he replays the moment over and over again in his head.
Jungkookâs not gonna lie, this little cat and mouse game that just started has him eager for more. Heâs so getting your number by the end of the night, call him delusional but he swears youâre digging him too with the way you checked him out just now.
He spends the entire night throwing a few sneaky glances your way, hell when you got on stage to perform he nearly folded then and there. Everything about itâsultry gaze, soft husky voice, and sensual body rollsâwas perfect. Jungkook donât even care that people are watching him ogle you in 4K, he doesn't bother to hide the fact that he likes what heâs seeing right now.
To make things worse you pass by his seat and shoot him a dazzling little smile, waving your fingers coyly at him which makes the people go wild. Oh heâs in love. Jungkook makes a point in looking for you afterwards at the afterparty. Youâre changed out of your outfit from earlier, now in a pretty babydoll and your little Prada loafers.
When he makes eye contact you shoot him a smile, âThought Iâd wear something you canât step on again.â
Jungkook snorted softly, âI already told you, I dunno why youâre being stubborn, quit playing and let me take you out already.â He says smoothly and wraps his arm around your waist, surprised that you donât push him off or anything.
You look him up and down with a soft hum, âMmmm Iâm kinda in the mood for some paella.â
âThen letâs go.â Jungkookâs ready, he will literally drop everything to get you some paella.
âNot from here though, I hear itâs way better in Spain.â You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down so heâs eye level with you, âSo unless youâre willing to take me to Spain, Iâm not going anywhere.â
Jungkook licks his lips, âFuck it, letâs go.â He starts leading you away, peeping the way you look surprised, âWhat?â He laughs.
âYouâre serious, right now?â Once you recover from the initial shock you smile at him with a quiet giggle, âYouâre crazy.â
Oh he just adores that cute eye-smile of yours, âLetâs get you some paella yeah?â
Itâs a nine hour flight you both impulsively leave on with no bags, didnât even tell your managers, and only your phones and wallets. No one questions when Jeon Jungkook walks through first class hand in hand with you trailing close by, youâre even wearing his blazer over your shoulders because you complained about how chilly it was.
Jungkookâs smiling like an idiot the entire time heâs sitting with you in the first class cabin. You donât seem to mind how touchy he is so he keeps an arm over your shoulder so youâre pressed close to his side. He nearly screams when you lay your head on his shoulder and doze off into a peaceful slumber.
You left Miami around one in the morning and got to Madrid at nine with Jungkook booking you two a room at the infamous Four Seasons hotel. You knock out with him for a few more hours until youâre complaining about your paella.
âHurry up, I'm starving and you promised me my paella.â You grumble and poke at his face.
âYeah, yeah Iâm awake.â Jungkook murmurs calmly as he rolls out of the bed to make himself presentable.
Jungkook feels like heâs in a dream right now, god this better not be because the sight of you looking so happy in front of him while eating your beloved paella is one for the books. Your little brunch date turns into a shopping date because you complain you donât wanna be wearing clothes from yesterday since the two of you decided to stay in Spain for the weekend.
He has a goofy smile on his face as he swipes, taps, and inserts his black card at different stores you drag him to. He lets you spend his money how you want to, relishing in the way the BVLGARI store workerâs eyes nearly bulge out of their head when Jungkook pays for a forty-eight thousand wrist watch, all for you.
âDoesnât it look pretty?â You grin softly while holding your wrist out to him.
Jungkook gently takes your hand in his and admires the watch, âPerfect, really suits you.â He grins softly as he thanks the employees and heads out with you to another store to see what you find.
By the time Sunday comes Jungkookâs spent well over one-hundred grand on you but does he care? No, not really because he did say heâd show you all the things heâd buy you. Jungkook doesnât wanna go back to Miami but Yoongiâs bitching at him to go back because apparently his opponent got better and the match was back on and set for Tuesday the earliest.
âLet me make you mine already.â He finds himself mumbling low in your ear as he tugs you into a loose hug, not caring that you two were standing in the middle of the airport about to board different flights back (of course he pays for your first class ticket home).
You look up at him with coy eyes and a soft little smile on your glossy lips, god he just wants to kiss the fuck out of you but he doesnât because you havenât give him the okay for anything past non-sexual intimacy which heâs fine with because he does wanna take time to get to know you.
His breath hitches when your finger comes up to trace over his lips gently, âCute.â You donât say anything else and walk away after the intercom announces your flight. You leave him standing there in the middle of the airport, dreamier than ever but sadly itâs cut short by his phone ringing.
âWhere the hell are you?â Yoongi growls.
âCalm down hyung, Iâm boarding in a few minutes.â Jungkook sighs as he rolls his eyes, âI got so much shit to tell you.â He smirks to himself and begins walking.
đ ïŸïœĄ â âĄ
Sometime into the next week when Jungkook lands back in Korea he asks for your number through Instagram. Heâs kinda surprised you gave it to him instead of dodging him like before, nonetheless heâs happy and giddy about it. He quite literally looks like a schoolgirl kicking her feet in bed texting her crush, thatâs how he feels like right now.
Youâre a quick texter which he likes and you donât seem to mind him spamming so thatâs even better. Jungkook spends his week giggling over dumb shit (itâs not) you say which has Seokjin making fun of him for it, which speaking of them they still couldnât believe Jungkook pulled you.
âNo way let me see.â Seokjin had demanded, âYouâre lying, she would never, she looks like she has standards.â Jungkook canât tell if heâs jealous or something, maybe heâs a secret stan too who knows.
Jungkook long established he was down bad for you ages ago but this just took the cake, a whole new level of simping. It starts when Jungkook decides to post a training video of him boxing/training, he goes viral and trends for a week because in the background heâs playing one of your songs. Heâs got a shit ton of people calling him a âgirly popâ or âcunty boxerâ but most tell him he knows whatâs up.
He doesnât know but by him doing that it opens a new door to your developing relationship because you start asking him to do things for you. It starts with you telling him to change his profile picture with a pic from your latest comeback (he gets made fun of by your fans but he doesnât care).
Then you make him tweet: âstream y/n for clear skinâ while promoting your music video through him (again heâs a laughing stock). The nail in the coffin is when you prettily request him to wear a shirt from your merch collection after one of his boxing matches.
âOh my god.â Yoongi says with his mouth dropped open in shock as Jungkook steps out of the backroom wearing a baby pink t-shirt with your face all over it, the cameras flash like crazy and reporters yell out a slew of different questions.
Jungkook runs around carefree in his little pink shirt posing for the cameras and grinning like an idiot because he knows youâre probably at home watching this. Yoongi asks him why he does these things and Jungkook just shrugs, he likes the praise you give him for doing everything you ask him to. He knows itâs light-hearted fun and youâd never do anything to humiliate him intentionally, if youâre happy then thatâs all that matters.
jk: did u see me tonight?
y/n <3: yess lol canât believe you actually did itttt
you looked super cute too, you should wear more shirts with my face on them.
jk: mayyybeeee you can come to one of my matches? donât u think i earned it?
y/n <3: when is it?
Jungkook damn nearly yells out in excitement, heâs literally shaking as he types out a fast response like youâre about to change your mind or something. He sends you the time and day for it, promising front row seats so youâll have a good view as he kicks this guyâs ass. You have him cheesing when you say this is going to be your first boxing match too, heâs so excited now.
âCalm down kid youâre gonna give me a headache with all that tapping.â Yoongi grunts as he slaps his hand against Jungkookâs knee, âI donât know why youâre nervous, she already told you sheâs here.â
âBecause hyung! This is a big deal to me, sheâs here at one of my matches and sheâs gonna get a front row view of the fight. Now I have to win this, I have to make it worth her time.â Jungkook grumbles with a pout.
Somewhere off to the side he hears Namjoon snort at him, âSheâs really got you wrapped around her finger donât she?â He says while hauling in a cooler with water bottles.
Jungkook doesnât even refute that statement, he barely bothers to acknowledge him because heâs reading over the texts youâre sending him. âHyung she said yes to coming to the after party!â He grins cheerfully.
âGood now get your head out of your ass and focus on what Iâm about to say. You have less than five minutes before youâre up in that ring and I need your head in the game.â Yoongi says sternly as he plucks Jungkookâs phone out of his hand, âYou remember what I said about pacing yourself?â
Jungkook sits there listening as Yoongi goes into trainer mode, he knows his hyung means no harm and just wants him to win this so Jungkook canât really be mad at him. He must have zoned out because Yoongi brings him back with a sharp smack to his arm, âAre you listening to me?â
âYeah,â Jungkook smiles as he stands up, âletâs do this.â
âGet out there and make me proud.â
The entire atmosphere outside has Jungkookâs adrenaline kicking in already. He hears the crowd chanting his name, the loud booming music, and the chatter from the on-goers. He mentally psyches himself, lightly bouncing on his feet as he closes his eyes and mumbles a small prayer. Once he hears his name echo loudly and the screams he steps out with his gloves in the air.
This is what he lives forâthe crowds, the music, and the atmosphere. He looks around the arena with a grin as they chant his name over and over again, stopping here and there to pose with fans. Jungkookâs not entirely focused on them though, his eyes wander through the front row looking for you and when his gaze finally lands on you he canât help the big smile he sports.
You look so pretty with your MIUMIU glasses over your head. Youâve got on a plain baby white tee under your black leather jacket, some low rise jeans and your loafers. Right now youâre the center of attention in your section with people taking pics of you from every direction and some asking for an autograph. You even brought your little friend (Jeon Soyeon?) along.
As he passes by Jungkook shoots you a wink to which you wave back with a flirty little smile. He doesnât miss the way your eyes skim over his bare chest and the desire begins fueling him with more determination to win. Sure he likes winning because who doesnât? But now he has more reason to win, he has to impress his future girl.
Jungkook gets pulled up on stage with his heart drumming against his ribcage, heâs so ready for this. The ref calls out both of them and soon enough after slipping his mouth guard and gloves on he rises to his feet and stalks forward slowly with a glint in his eye.
âI want a clean fight okay,â the ref says to both as Jungkook nods, âalright, to your corners.â He sends them both away, the announcer saying some shit Jungkook doesnât really concern himself with.
Jungkook makes eye contact with you one last time, the two of you mutually nodding before the sound of a bell has Jungkook immediately shifting his focus. Heâs light on his feet and takes his time watching with diligent eyes as his opponent circles around him, waiting to get the hit on him but Jungkookâs faster.
The guy swings but Jungkook easily dodges, another swing and Jungkook manages to catch him off guard with a sucker punch to the jaw sending the guy reeling backwards. Jungkook feels like he had enough time to warm-up, he doesnât play around anymore and launches himself towards his opponent with determination.
Punch after punch and round after round ends with Jungkook delivering one final blow, easily sealing this poor guyâs fate as the guy just lets go and falls to the ground. The referee jumps in, counting down from ten as Jungkook watches with anticipation and adrenaline, ready to go again if this guy gets up. He sees Yoongi sitting with clenched fists and a hopeful look in his eye, and then he sees you.
Youâre looking at Jungkook with worry, eyebrows furrowed and doe eyes filled with concern. He manages a bloody smile despite the fucking world of pain heâs in right now (heâs not looking forward to the ice bath after this). He swears the world around him blurs until he finally hears the bell and the announcerâs voice echoing through the arena.
âKnockout!â
Jungkook sags in relief as he hears cheers and yells all around. The paparazzi flash him with their cameras as the crowd loses it, Jungkook turns in time to see Yoongi crawling into the ring and bringing him in for a tight hug, âYou fuckinâ did it kid,â he laughs in disbelief as he has Jungkook spit his bloody mouthguard out.
âFuck hyung, water.â Jungkook rasps out as Yoongi yells for Namjoon to come over.
âYou good?â Yoongi asks, âLook at me kid, you okay?â He pats his cheek as Jungkook nods tiredly given that the adrenaline rush was now gone, leaving him bruised and exhausted.
Namjoon comes over with water as Jungkook takes sips, spitting it out into a bucket Yoongi holds out for him to rinse his mouth out. The referee comes over to announce Jungkook as the winner as he stands there barely holding on from pain. He makes eye contact with you again, smiling through the exhaustion despite feeling pretty shitty right now. He slowly makes his way over as you simultaneously rise from your chair to meet him halfway.
âSo, what do you think?â Jungkook smirks as he crouches down and hops out of the ring.
You pout cutely with a frown, âYouâre hurt.â You softly murmur as your delicate hand comes up to cup his face, âIâm happy for you though, you did really amazing.â You smile.
Jungkook feels his heart swell with happiness hearing that, he goes to wrap his arm around your shoulder but stops in pain. He forgot about this part as a low groan slips from his lips, âShit he got me pretty good.â
âDonât overexert yourself,â you help him wrap an arm around you, âgotta be careful, you took some pretty hard hits in there.â
Jungkook laughs tiredly as he lays his head on top of yours while you walk together to the back, âShoulda seen the other guy.â He says low, ignoring the pointed glare you shoot at him, âYeah, yeah, Iâm just messing with you.â
You grumble something under your breath but he doesnât catch it, heâs riding off on the high from winning and being so close to you. He likes this and wouldnât mind having you in his life more after this as heâs long made peace with the idea of you being in his future. All he can think about at this moment is you, you, you.
.
âSay you can't sleep, baby, I know that's that me, espresso,â
Jungkookâs laughing and talking with his friends, heâs got you wrapped up in his arms pressed against his chest as he nurses a whiskey in his other hand. You play with one of his necklaces and tune out his conversation which he doesnât notice until he turns to you and sees how sad you look, âWhatâs wrong?â
You look up at him and shake your head, âJust thinking.â
âAbout?â He gently prods, shifting his entire attention to you.
âYou didnât look so good earlier..how do you do it? I mean, I get you trained for this but I dunno, kinda scared me seeing you all beat up.â You softly murmur, âItâs just a thought of mine, I donât mean to offend you or anything.â
Jungkook softens at that, he thinks itâs adorable youâre worrying about him like that. Almost feels like.. âLetâs dance?â He asks when a favorite song of his comes on, âCâmon, itâll take your mind off things.â He grins.
You smile at him softly and follow him to the dancefloor, wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds you by the hips with gentle hands. He hums along to the song playing in the background with his dark eyes trained on yours. You look so beautiful under the dark lights and he canât help but lean in.
âYouâre super pretty yâknow that?â Jungkook softly hums as he presses his forehead against yours.
You softly laugh, âTell me something I donât know.â
âMmm did I mention I really like your lips?â His lip curls in a smirk, âLove how soft and plump they look, âspecially when you wear lip gloss..â He slowly trails off as his lips hover over your own, âCan I kiss you?â
The way your eyes light up, crinkling with joy as you eagerly nod. Jungkook presses his lips to yours in a gentle manner, itâs sweet and slow, just like how he likes it. Your arms tighten around his neck and you tug him further down until he's towering over your figure, blocking you from everyoneâs view.
Feels like everythingâs complete now and Jungkookâs never felt happier than ever.
He slowly pulls off from the kiss as he stares down at you suddenly feeling shy, âCan I, um, maybe drive you home? Just to make sure you get home safe ân stuff. You donât have to if you donât want to, just thought Iâd ask.â
âYeah, Iâd like that.â You gently reply.
A slow smile spreads over his lips and he nods, âLetâs go then.â He guides you out of the party and into his sleek black car thatâs parked out in the front.
The car rideâs quiet and peaceful, he has the windows rolled down as the fresh breeze brushes over the two of you. Jungkook wishes the car ride lasted a little longer but itâs late (two in the morning actually) and he knows youâre tired. He makes a mental note to take you out on a drive next time you guys meet up.
âWeâre here baby.â He murmurs softly, gently waking you from your sleep.
âHm?â You sleepily blink and look around, âDamn, Iâm more tired than I thought.â You smile tiredly while stretching your arms out.
Jungkook chuckles, âDonât worry I got you.â He steps out and rounds the car, opening your door for you and helping you out, âWant me to carry you?â He teases.
You shoot him a sleepy pout and shake your head, âIâm good, maybe next time though.â You breathily chuckle.
âThereâs a next time?â He teases.
You toss him a knowing look, stopping in front of the building door, âGood night, or morning I dunno Iâm tired.â You spin around and lean over to smooch his cheek gently, âIâll see you tomorrow.â You softly murmur.
Jungkookâs completely entranced by you as he nods slowly, âNight.â
âMorning.â You teasingly correct him as you make your way inside.
Jungkook doesnât leave until he sees you hop into the elevator, and even then you still wave at him before disappearing inside. Once youâre gone Jungkook lets out a deep sigh as he leans back on his car, what a night.
đ ïŸïœĄ â
A few weeks pass and itâs nothing but bliss for Jungkook. Seeing that he has no matches lined up or anything he decides to hang out with you nearly everyday whether it be you and him going out for ice cream dates or Jungkook just taking you out for evening drives out of the city.
Heâs on cloud nine right nowâheâs got the girl of his dreams, his payout from the last match was pretty big, and everythingâs going right for him. Sure you havenât sat down to actually clarify what you two are but Jungkook knows you feel the same way about him. Maybe it isnât such a bad thing with the way things are right now, the youâre mine and Iâm yours is left unsaid but itâs there.
Youâve both been hard launching each other on your socials for the past few weeks anyways. By now people knew there was something up with you and him, given that Jungkook wasnât exactly discreet when he posted on his stories with you in them. Jungkook knows youâve been doing the same thing too so by now the media kinda labeled the relationship.
Will he say anything? Probably not. Does he care? Nope. He didnât owe anyone an explanation, he just wanted to be able to date you in peace.
Sometime in the week though you send him a message asking him if he wants to come with you as your plus one to some award show taking place in Hong Kong. He says yes of course duh, why the hell would he say otherwise?
He posts a pic with you in the private plane before calling it quits and ignoring his mentions/comments for the rest of the day. Todayâs your big day and while youâre not performing he wants to put his entire focus into being there for you.
âHow do I look?â He hears you say as heâs getting ready.
Youâre dressed to the nines styled in vintage Chanel and Jungkook had a suit tailored to match your aesthetic for the evening. He knows you both are gonna look so good tonight, no doubt youâll blow anyone away with your unwavering beauty too. âYou look amazing.â He says as he stands behind you.
Your eyes flick up in amusement, âThatâs all?â
Jungkook lays his chin over your shoulder and grins softly, âBreathtaking, beautiful, ethereal, stunningââ You cut him off with an embarrassed laugh as you swat at his hands.
âOkay, okay, I get it.â You turn around and play with the buttons to his shirt, âYou look really good too.â
âThatâs all?â He grins back.
âDonât push it, you make the compliments here.â You smirk and lay a sweet kiss over his lips, to which he happily and eagerly reciprocates.
He might have gotten a little carried away with it because heâs pushing you against the sink counter and kissing you stupid like heâs been doing these days. A soft muffled groan leaves him as he circles his hands over your hips and uses his grip to pull you into him until your lower pelvis is pressing against his own, dangerously close to his friend down there.
âJungkookââ You sigh, âWeâre gonna be late.â You say in-between his eager kisses.
âDonât care, let me kiss you stupid.â Jungkook replies as he closes the distance between you two again, moving his lips passionately against yours.
You let out a sweet little moan as your fingers card through his hair, he doesnât even care if you mess it up either. Looks are superficial and at the end of the day regardless of how people see him theyâll never know him or you and Jungkookâs okay with that.
Suddenly the sound of a knock interrupts the two of you and you pull away with a breathless sigh, âYeah?â You call out.
âThe carâs here and trafficâs looking pretty bad so it might be good if we leave right now. We got thirty minutes to get there since the red carpetâs already started.â Your manager says through the door.
You look at Jungkook with a soft smile as you lean up to smooch his lips, âWeâll meet you down there.â
No one expects you to come out hand in hand with Jungkook and he relishes in their shocked faces/reactions. He likes the thrill and canât help but pull you closer by the waist with his arm tucked tightly around you. They yell and beg for pictures as you walk on by with him, ignoring their weird comments or stupid questions with no meaning.
âYou wanna head inside baby?â He leans down to whisper in your ear after a few rounds of interviews and photos with the paps.
âYeah Iâm getting bored.â You hide your shoulder in his shoulder and follow as he guides you towards the venue with a hand splayed protectively over the small of your back.
He can tell youâre nervous about tonight with the way you sit with your hand tightly wrapped in his. Youâre currently nominated for two major categories with one of them being album of the year. Heâd be shitting himself too if he was going up against other talented singers. Youâre gonna win though, you have to and if you donât heâll fight them to recount the votes.
âEasy baby,â he whispers low, âyou got this okay?â
âI know but what if I lose?â You purse your lips, âI did really well this year so Iâm hoping maybe that I do win.â Jungkook doesnât like how sad and worried you look right now.
âIf you donât win Iâll buy the fucking thing.â Jungkook snorts, âNo one had the highest record sales and streams like you did baby, you basically have this in the bag and everyone knows it.â
You huff out a laugh and look at him in disbelief, âJungkook you can buy me all the things you want but youâre not buying me an award. Donât be ludicrous.â
He shrugs carelessly, âI wonât if they just give it to you.â He says seriously as he leans over to kiss your cheek, âI believe in you no matter what.â You look at him with a precious smile and turn your attention back to the show.
Performance after performance passes until soon theyâre announcing the winner for album of the year. You didnât win the other category but Jungkook knows for sure youâll win the next one. He can feel you nervously bouncing your knee and gripping his hand extra tight while the presenter takes their sweet time opening the envelope.
âAnd the award goes to,â pause, ây/n!â The crowd erupts into loud screams and cheers, hell Jungkook yells out as he looks at you with glee and helps you stand up.
âYou won baby!â Jungkook hugs you tightly as he sways side to side, âSo fuckinâ proud of you.â
You happily laugh and bury your face in his neck, âI was so scared, oh my god.â You accept his hand as he helps you step up on stage so you could get your award. He stands back filled with pride as he watches you stride with confidence towards the main stage, walking past all these other people he could care less about.
After the show Jungkookâs surprised you choose to go back to the hotel instead of the afterparty some other singer invites you guys to. He doesnât protest because heâs been dying to get away from all these people all night (you reprimanded him for suggesting that you guys leave right after you get your win). He walks hand in hand with you, smug as fuck because his girl bagged album of the year, just like he knew you would.
âSmile,â Jungkook holds his phone up, the flash going off as he hears you complain about not being ready, âyou look fine, I donât know what youâre talking about.â He snorts and shows you the picture he took.
You shoot him a pouty frown and take his phone, âDelete it I look bad,â you huff, âyou better take a better one.â
âWhatever you say princess.â Jungkook takes a series of photos for your Instagram and his, you look so pretty in each one he takes, itâs disgusting how much heâs obsessing over them, âDamn you look sexy.â
âI always do, thank you very much.â You huff and sit back in your seat, enjoying the rest of the ride back.
Jungkookâs immediately on you when the two of you get to the hotel. Heâs been wanting to pick up where you two left off earlier before your manager interrupted. If it was up to him you two wouldnât have even gone to the damn show, heâs been dying to get you out of the dress the minute he saw you in it.
âJungkook waitâmmph,â youâre cut off as he slips his lips over yours, his hands coming up to cup your face as he swallows your lips in a passionate-hungry kiss.
âCanât,â Jungkook whispers, âbeen waiting all night baby.â He reaches behind you to push the door open, kicking it open all the way as he tugs you close and walks you backwards into the room.
âMoment I laid eyes on you I was gone, knew I had to have you.â Jungkook whispers as he leans down to bury his face in your shoulder and neck leaving a flurry of hot kisses all over, âWanted to rip this shit off you.â He growls softly.
You whined in protest, body falling backwards when the back of your knees hit the lush bed, âNot my dressââ
âIâll buy anotherâhundreds baby, donât you know who your man is?â Jungkook smirks as he climbs over you, âCan I take it off you baby?â He knows heâs being a bit too eager right now, so naturally he wants to make sure youâre both on the same page.
âYeah.â You softly breathe out, âI want you to take it off,â you trail off looking at him with those siren eyes, âmake me yours.â You say as you let the strap of the dress slip off your shoulder invitingly.
Jungkook swallows hard, hands itching and trembling with excitement as he reaches up to pull the other strap, âYou already are.â He muses.
âAll the way,â you intertwine your hand with his with a precious little smile on your face, âwant everyone to know who my man is.â
Fuck. Jungkook bites down on his lip and nods, âYou want them to see my marks, want everyone to know whoâs fucking you good?â He purrs and leans down to hover over you, lips against lips.
You nod with a cute âmmhmâ, âI want it all, you promised youâd give it to me.â You softly pout, âOr was that a lie?â
âFuck no, take it baby, âs all yours.â Jungkook hurriedly unbuttons his dress shirt, hastily throwing his belt off and peeling his slacks off, âGonna give you exactly what you need till you canât take it.â He says as he reaches for the zipper to the dress.
He all but rips the thing off of you and tosses it to the corner of the room (mind you itâs worth over twenty thousand). Itâs the first time seeing you like this under him and he wants to make it special for you, a night youâll never forget.
âFuck, youâre beautiful baby.â He comments as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses along your chest and tummy,slowly slipping down the bed as he inches towards your panty covered pussy.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve been dreaming of this, been thinking about all the ways I could have you,â he whispers and lays a kiss over your damp folds, âI didnât know if I wanted to lay you on my bed or bend you over the carâyou make it so hard to control myself, you have no idea.â
He sees the little tremor that passes over you when he says this. Your eyes are filled with want and need but like the stubborn little thing you are, you donât say anything. Jungkook canât have that either, he wantsâno needsâto hear your sweet little voice beg for him.
âWhatâs the matter baby? You need something?â Jungkook softly croons as he peppers soft kisses against your inner thighs.
You bite on your lip and nod, âNeed you.â
âBut you already have me?â He grins, he can see the frustration bubbling up on your face.
âHere,â you softly breathe and reach down to tug your panties upwards, the material digs into your cunt giving him a perfect outline of it, âwonât you give it to me?â Your voice pulls him in like a siren singing to a sailor, heâs so entranced by it he almost feels like heâs gonna drool right now.
Jungkook wastes no time in yanking the damp materials down your thighs, not bothering to slide them completely off as he lifts your legs up. Theyâre pressed together with your soft pussy lips pressed together for him, tempting him with a glob of shiny slick running down your soft asscheeks.
âFuck,â Jungkook growls as he leans in to smother his face with your cunt, tongue slipping through your drenched dewy folds to lap up the globs of slick.
You kick your feet in the air with a tiny whine, hips wiggling in an attempt to get him on your clit. He laps at you messily, circling the tip of his tongue over your throbbing bud thatâs squished between your folds. The moan you let out sends shivers down his spine and heâs eager to hear more.
âSo fucking good,â he pants, âjusâ like I imagined pretty baby.â He slurs out, pussy drunk already.
He can feel you reaching down to tug your panties all the way off but he canât be bothered with stopping, not when your cuntâs gushing for him. Jungkook licks with vigor, swiping over and over against your tender clit. Your cunt opens up beautifully with a low squelch and your thighs begin trembling under his strong hold.
It gets harder with each passing second to contain himself, his cock feels like itâs literally about to burst. He pulls away from you and lets your shaky legs fall back as he tears your panties off completely.
âGonna fuck you so good baby,â he climbs over you and reaches down to pull his heavy cock out, âcanât wait anymore.â
Your legs easily fall apart for him and make room as he shuffles closer between them. Jungkook sees the way your eyes go dark when they land below between his legs where his cock hangs heavy, swollen at the tip with beady trails of precum oozing from the head. You lick your lips and reach down to grip him in your soft hand, tentatively squeezing and stroking as if you were feeling him up.
âLike it baby? Gonna have my fat cock fill this little pussy up?â Jungkook has a sleazy grin splayed over his lips as he watches you, âHm?â
âYeah, âm not gonna let you cum anywhere but inside,â you deviously smile back like the nasty little minx you are, âtill itâs dripping.â
He groans at the thought of that and kicks his hips forward, âLemme in baby,â he slurs out, âslip it right in for me, there you go.â He purrs when he feels the head slide over your messy pussy, smearing your slick and his precum all over your cunt before youâre guiding him towards your winking sopping hole.
You bite down on your lip when the tip catches against your rim, it pops inside feeling you inch for inch slowlyâcockhead spreading you open until heâs fully seated in your tight cunt. He canât help but bite his lip with the way youâre squeezing him so tightâso snug and warm.
âSo nice ân warm for me,â he hoarsely says as he rubs his hands along your sides, gently squeezing at your hips as he pulls you closer until your pelvis is smacked tight against his own.
You let out the most sinful fucking moan ever when his cock slides deeper. Back arching and toes curlingâhe just loves how beautiful you look spread out under him with your pretty pussy snug against his cock. You release a stuttered moan as you reach for his hands and squeeze tightly.
âHurts a little,â you say through gritted teeth, âwhy the fuck are you so fucking big?â
Jungkook nearly laughs at that because he doesnât think heâs ever heard that many curse words leave your mouth before. âYou want me to pull out?â
âNo donât you dare,â you glare, âtook me a minute to get this thing in and you want me to do it all over again?â
Jungkook looks back down with a low whistle, âLittle pussy looks like itâs struggling to keep me all in baby, you sure you can handle it?â He teases as he reaches down to flick his thumb over your swollen clit.
Your hips jump and you whine out for him, âStop playing around Jungkook,â you turn to hide your face in the soft sheets, âyou know I can.â You mumble softly, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
Jungkook bites down on his lip and rolls his hips slowly, âI know, you were made for this dick.â He smirks and lazily flicks his thumb pairing it with his slow but deep thrusts.
Your moans come out soft and breathy, everytime he backstrokes thereâs a light sheen of slick covering his cock from the base near his pelvis. Your cunt makes these adorable little squelching noises as he pushes back in, balls lightly pressing against your taint when he buries himself back in. Occasionally he stops for a few seconds before he resumes his lazy pace.
He never imagined itâd feel this good with you, something about the way your little pussy refuses to let go for even a momentâsqueezing him so tight itâs almost impossible to move. His own noises come out soft and husky, he canât help the moans and soft sighs he lets out from the hot pleasure coiling in his stomach.
âBaby,â he gasps as he leans forward to hover over you with hands on either side of you, âthis good?â He asks as he steadily increases the pace in his thrusts, hips smacking wetly against your ass and balls swinging now.
You nod eagerly, âMore than goodâmm, jusâ like that,â you sound blissed out, gaze half-lidded and dreamy as you stare up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.
âLike that?â He groans, âOr like this?â Suddenly Jungkook snaps his hips up, a loud smack filling the room alongside a warbled cry of his name, âOh you like that, donât you? Baby likes it rough?â He purrs.
The slideâs fucking nasty with a mix of precum and your slick, he feels it slide down your taint where his balls slap repeatedly. The noise is filthy and sends pleasant tremors down his spine, âOh, fuck,â he groans softly, âdoing so good for me.â
Jungkook begins moving earnestly now, slamming his cock in and out of your bruised and battered cunt. Slick spills everywhereâthe sheets, your inner thighs, his pelvisâitâs like music to his fucking ears right now. He canât resist and leans down to smother your lips with his, swallowing every little cry and moan you let out.
Your arms come up to wrap around his neck as you hold on tightly, he reaches down to wrap a leg around his waist as he manages to slide in deeper with the tip brushing over your g-spot. You let out a loud cry into his mouth and bury your fingers in his hair, your thigh starts trembling again only this time more intense than before.
âYou gonna cum for me baby?â He pulls away with a moan, âCâmon, be a good girl and make it messy.â He purrs against your lips while watching your expressions closely.
You stare into his eyes with unshed tears as more whimpers and whines escape, âSo close,â you manage to wrap another shaky leg around him, âplease, please, âm so close.â You whine out as your legs cross behind him on his back.
Jungkook doesnât wanna disappoint or hold out any longer as he manages to stick a hand down between you to roll your clit between his fingers, âCum for me, give it to me baby.â He growls softly as he plows into your tender and sore cunt.
The squelching gets louder and your moans turn into weak whimpers as you lie there and take it. His cock stirs at the sight of you nearing your end, he decides to give you a little extra push as he meanly pinches your clit. This causes you to cry out and go stiff under him, body shaking like a leaf as you gush around his cock.
âJungkook,â you gasp repeatedly as your eyes flutter shut, face pinched in pleasure and overstimulation, âso good.â You slur out.
Jungkook lets your tender clit go and focuses on his own pleasure now that heâs got your orgasm out of the way. He grunts quietly and buries his face against your soft tits, mouthing at your sore stiff nipples. You squeeze around him tighter and tighter until the coil in his stomach snaps and he lets out a long moan of your name.
âFuck..â Jungkook whispers breathlessly as he presses your pelvises close together, burying his cock balls deep till every last dropâs inside your battered pussy.
You moan quietly and let your legs fall from his hips, limbs feeling like jelly as you lay there panting softly. Jungkook rests his forehead against your tit and sighs deeply, âAre you okay love?â He asks softly.
âYeah, jusâ really tired.â You whisper hoarsely and close your eyes, âFuck, no offense but I feel really gross right now. Start a bath for me, pretty please?â You softly ask with a lip jutted out in a pout.
Jungkook of course canât say no, âCourse,â he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and lifts himself off of you, âIâll be back.â
đ ïŸïœĄ â
Your companyâs the first to make a statement confirming what everybody already knew, and then Yoongi followed shortly after. If Jungkook had thought it was bad before, people went ape shit now that itâs been officially confirmed by you two.
Before, they put all the heat on Jungkook because it was easier to blame him for it given the publicâs opinion about him. It was easier to blame him because why not? He was some low-life boxer in their eyes. But then the attention shifted and people started targeting their hate towards you which pissed Jungkook off to no end.
Why the fuck was everyone so invested in what you did and didnât do? Why was it that they felt entitled to dictate who you date and donât date? Jungkook really needed these people to get jobs or mind their business because clearly they had no life outside of hating on a stranger for finding their own happiness.
He saw those vicious comments people left all over your posts and he fucking hated that he couldnât do shit to stop them from coming back, pissed him off even more because his girlfriend didnât deserve this. You deserved the world and more, not this shit.
So, Jungkook did the next best thing he could think of. He started taking names and screenshotting profiles before turning them over to a attorney he hired, if he couldnât beat these stupid fuckers himself heâd let them have it with his private team. He made headlines after people started noticing that he was suing the people opening their big ass mouths.
âBaby, itâs okay really.â You softly complain, âYou donât have to waste your time with these weird people, Iâm sure theyâll get over themselves if we ignore them.â
Jungkook shakes his head, âNo, Iâm sorry baby but I canât sit there and watch these fuckers call you degrading names and demand shit like they know youâseriously who the fuck do these people think they are?â He growls under his breath as he paces back and forth, âAnd thatâs not even the gist of it, these idiots are lucky I donât catch them out in public because Iâll beat the fuck out of them.â
Out of the corner of his eye he sees you curl up on the sofa with a sad smile, âI know, but you canât go around beating up millions of people for leaving a hate comment. Itâs normal, this happens all the time I learned to live with it.â Youâre trying to sound sure of yourself but he doesnât buy it.
âBaby look at me.â He comes over and kneels down in front of you, âThis shit is not normal nor is it ever okay, fuck them for making you feel like this. I hate seeing you look so dejected reading all those hateful comments,â he takes your hands in his and kisses them, âjust lemme take care of it. Please?â
You look conflicted like youâre not sure if you should say yes but with a little more coaxing you finally sigh, âFineee, just donât do anything crazy. I donât need my boyfriend in jail, thank you very much.â
Jungkook cracks a smile and buries his face in your lap with a happy sigh, âI promise baby, if I go to jail, who else is gonna cook you fried rice at three in the morning? Who else is gonna give you their black card?â He teases.
âYeah, yeah now come here.â You open your arms for him, âYou know I only need you and thatâs all.â
Jungkook kisses that soft pout off your face as he nods, âI know you do baby, didnât think otherwise.â He grins and lays his head on your chest with closed eyes.
The two of you sit there in silence together with the TV playing low in the background. Jungkook for the most part behaves himself despite being so close to your soft tits that are poorly hidden under your camisole. He can literally dip his head in there and get a sneak peek, maybe even a mouthful of tittiesâ
âJungkook, really?â You sigh, âYouâre such a pervert.â
âYou like it,â Jungkook winks as he mouths at your tit through your little camisole, âcan I?â He knows you canât resist and judging by the way your thighs press together, âPretty pleaseee baby?â He gives you the best puppy eyes he can muster, all a man wants is some titty loving, thatâs all.
You donât even finish saying yes before heâs diving in and tugging your camisole down so that your tits spill out and into his face. His eyes light up and he immediately wraps his lips around a nipple, suckling gently as he laves his tongue over the stiff bud in his mouth. You quietly sigh and sink into the sofa with him following as he rolls his tongue over your nipple and flicks it repeatedly.
âYouâre such a baby you know that?â You murmur, âBut youâre my handsome bun,â the nickname has him perking up, âmy strong, big, handsome bun.â You coo softly while stroking his hair slowly.
Jungkookâs eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the warm feeling, his sucking slows down until heâs barely moving his tongue anymore and simply suckling on your teat. âYou like hearing how strong you are donât you babyâlove knowing you can easily beat someoneâs ass for me?â
He nods pathetically with a low groan, âOf course you do,â you softly coo, âitâs why I picked you, knew youâd be able to take care of me the way I deserve.â You scratch his scalp lightly, moaning softly when he makes another noise, âTreat me so good like the princess I am.â
That he does. Jungkook is in heaven right now, he feels like he can just pass out right here and now with a titty in his mouth. He canât help but shudder as he slips into a dream-like state, âGo ahead baby, just rest yeah? I got you.â You softly say while cradling his head and going lax under him, âTake what you need.â
And he does. He ends up falling asleep, one of the best fucking naps ever with your tit still in his mouth even when he wakes up. He so needs to do this another time, shitâs relaxing and a good stress reliever. Jungkook doesnât think youâll have any complaints either.
.
Itâs a busy week for Jungkook because he has a match coming up in a few weeks and Yoongi has him completely locking in at the gym for training. You donât mind it and being the best girlfriend you are you come as support during his sessions. You also confirmed his suspicions that Seokjin was a secret stan because his hyung fanboys out when he meets you.
âHyung stop it.â Jungkook glares, âLeave her alone before I punch you.â
Seokjin scoffs, âNo way, I get to meet my idol and you wanna ruin it for me? Whereâs my respect, you brat.â This guyâneedless to say Jungkookâs shooting daggers at his hyung the entire time heâs there.
The real challenge comes during the press conference/weigh-in Jungkook goes to like he always does. It starts off normal, the guy doesnât trash talk and Jungkookâs not one for it either unless the fighterâs cocky then yeah heâll put them in their place but this guyâs alright which he appreciates. Itâs the fucking reporters that get Jungkook heated sometimes.
âJeon, how do you feel about this upcoming match? Any thoughts on your opponent?â One asks with his recorder held out.
âIâm excited like always, I know potential when I see it so Iâm hoping to have a great match with my opponent. He looks like he can give me a run for my money.â He laughs softly into the mic.
Another reporter asks something but itâs directed at his opponent so Jungkook just nods off listening to the two. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone laughing when he looks at him, and at first he doesnât pay attention and just keeps his focus on the reporters. But then this guy comes to the front and Jungkook just knows heâs about to hear the stupidest shit in his life.
âJeon, so how are you and your girl doing? Heard the news and wanted to congratulate you.â He says with this sleazy grin.
It rubs him the wrong way but Jungkook keeps his temper in check as he forces himself to politely answer, âGood, thank you.â He curtly replies.
He hears Yoongi clear his throat next to him with a fierce glare, âLetâs try and keep this about the match, he's not here to answer questions about his life, this isnât a personal interview.â
Youâd think that after being called out like that heâd stop there and move on but no, this guyâs a piece of work. âI mean I was just askinâ cause I was kinda surprised with the news since you know, she been ran through by the entire industry.â This gets Jungkook to react as he pushes his chair back, causing it to fly backwards as he slowly stalks forward.
âNew guy every monthâsay, you the new boy of the month Jeon?â He smirks.
Jungkook doesnât even think before he lunges at him, he hears Yoongi call his name as Namjoon springs into action to get Jungkook back but itâs too late.
Jungkookâs fist connects with the side of this manâs jaw and sends him flying to the ground as Jungkook lifts his (now) bloody fist up to strike him again with a sick sound. Heâs so far gone right now he doesnât even feel when Namjoon yanks him off the guy.
âJungkook! Calm the fuck down and get off him!â Namjoon yells through the chaos as reporters scramble to get shots and videos of this.
âNo, get off me hyung! Let me fuckinâ go where is this little shit? If youâre such a fuckinâ man come say it to my face one more fucking time, I dare you! Say it!â He yells as he struggles against Namjoonâs strong hold.
It takes three guys to get Jungkook away from the reporter, Yoongi deals with the rest but Jungkookâs so fucking mad he canât even sit right now. Heâs pacing back and forth in the little backroom they got him in as Namjoon watches with concern in his eyes. He hasnât tried to calm him down because even he knows the danger of trying to talk to him while heâs this mad.
The door slams open and Yoongi steps in, âJungkook what the fuck was that?! That guy went to the hospital, do you even realize the mess you caused? Heâs gonna press chargesââ
âI donât give a fuck!â Jungkook interrupts, stunning Yoongi into silence, âHe fucking disrespected my girlfriend thinking that shit was funny. I could really give two fucks if he wants to press charges or not!â Namjoon watches the two in silence, but heâs ready to jump in if Jungkook turns on Yoongi or something.
Yoongi, who usually has something smart to say for everything, for once doesnât have shit to say. He just stands there watching Jungkook kick the chair over and pace around the room furiously. âKid, look, I get you. I would do the same too if I was in your place but this shit isnât worth it. You canât be letting them get to you like this, thatâs what they want.â
âWell he fucking got what he wanted.â Jungkook scoffs with a humorless laugh.
âJust go home, Iâll deal with the press.â Yoongi sighs as he rubs his temples, âPlease, for once just do what I say.â
The news is bad, thereâs a shit ton of articles coming out within the next hour about how Jungkook attacked the reporter and left him a bloody puddle on the ground. Itâs all over the place and thereâs a shit ton of people commenting about it on online forums and comment sections. One side praises him for defending you, and then the other criticizes his inability to keep himself under control but Jungkook doesnât care.
The REAL cherry on top is when you post your response to the newsâyou use that video of Latto saying âthank you to my manâ along with a cute selfie of you cuddled up in bed with Jungkook. Even you made it clear as day you didnât give a fuck about that guy either.
Your fans who had previously had negative reactions to your dating news were coming around too in favor of Jungkook. They said shit like âfree JK he did nothing wrongâ and voiced their support for him. Some were even harassing the reporter who had dared to say those things about you, demanding that he lose credibility as a reporter amongst other things.
Jungkook thinks itâs going to be okay because that guy totally fucking deserved it (and more).
.
The weeks fly by and the day of his big match comesâthe biggest one yet because bets are high and on top of that Jungkook has a winning streak to keep up if he wants them to give him the title of âundefeatedâ. Following the conference nothing really happened, the guy turned out to have some shady shit on him so he decided not to press any charges in the end. God bless Yoongi for digging shit up.
With that being dealt with Jungkook could finally put his entire focus on the match. He had heard the entire arena sold out and some of the richest people on earth were attending. This was a huge deal and he had everything to lose. Jungkook was confident in his win but this guy was also the deal too, which only means Jungkook has to keep his guard up.
âYou ready kid? This is about to be the biggest fight of your career.â Yoongi says as he comes to sit in front of Jungkook, âYouâre gonna have to kick it up a notch this match, the guyâs good but he isnât better than you.â
He nods at that because Jungkookâs confident in his fighting abilities, âI know hyung, I have a really good feeling about tonight.â He smiles, âDonât worry about it, I got this under control.â
âGood, thatâs what I like to hear from you.â Yoongi grins back as he pats his back, âNow get out there and make me proud.â
The arena buzzes with life when Jungkook enters the room, heâs hit with flashing lights in every direction as people scream and chant his name. Heâs getting worked up again as the adrenaline slowly kicks in. Jungkook makes his way up to the ring, passing over your section where youâre sitting with Namjoon and Seokjin.
He closes his eyes for a brief moment, blocking out the crowd and music as he tries to focus. He can do this, he can do this. He will win, for you.
The guy packs a good punch and each round gets progressively harder and harder to fight him off. During one of the breaks in-between the rounds, he slumps into his corner as Yoongi immediately springs over to help him with his mouth guard.
âHeâs tiring you out Kook, heâs gonna wait until youâre low on energy to give it his all.â Yoongi warns, âYou need to match his pace instead of wasting your energy so early.â
Jungkook pants tiredly as he shakes his head, âHyung heâs gonna knock me out.â He says deliriously, filled with pain and adrenaline.
âNo he isnât, because youâre not going to let him, you hear me? Youâre going to get back out there and show that punk what youâre made of.â Yoongi sternly replies, âDo it for the pretty girl waiting for your win.â
Jungkookâs eyes snap over to where you sit, you look really scared and on top of that worried. He sees the way your knee bounces and how you pick at your fingernails. This isnât what he wants to see.. This isnât what he wants at all.
âOkay.â Jungkook grunts with renewed energy, âFuck, okay.â
Yoongi pats his back gently and steps away from the ring, âRemember: match his pace.â
Jungkook rises to his feet and gets ready for the next round. He only has a few more before a winner has to be announced or the match is tied. Only one of them will walk out a champion, and itâs going to be him.
He takes Yoongiâs advice and matches this guyâs pace, he observes his every move and studies the combos he throws out. The guyâs a corner tech type so Jungkook avoids the edges and keeps him in the middle. He also notices that he goes for uppercuts and rear hooks.
As Jungkook prepares to strike he loses his footing and the guy takes the chance to hook him across the face. It sends Jungkook to the ground as he falls with a groan of pain. âFuck.â He whispers.
Heâs not sure how much longer he can keep up, can he even get up? His vision is beginning to blur a little and his hearingâs a little hazy too. He barely even makes out the referee counting down to a knockout.
Through the blurriness he sees Yoongi run over to the side of the net, âGet up, kid! Fuck, câmon Jungkook get up!â He desperately says.
Jungkook wants to, but everything hurts so much and heâs so tired right now. He weakly tries to get up, barely managing to hold up on all fours as he pants heavily with blood dripping down onto the mat below. He lifts his head up slowly and suddenly the world stops.
Youâre standing there with tears in your eyes, your mouthâs moving rapidly (most likely pleading with him to get up). Jungkook doesnât like that, he swore heâd never let you feel that way again after you attended his first match and saw how bad it was. Fuck.
âFourâŠthree..â
Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up.
Jungkook grits his teeth and stumbles forward, barely managing to catch himself on the nets as he looks back at his opponent with renewed strength. The countdown stops and the match continues, he is going to win this if thatâs the last thing he does.
He lunges forward and the guy doesnât expect it coming as Jungkook manages to get him cornered before he lets loose. He rains a slew of punches, too fast for the guy to keep up who doesnât expect him to suddenly be this fast.
Jungkook feels like he blacks out during all this, landing hit after hit until heâs finished with one last uppercut and then everything stops. He feels a pair of hands pull him back as the referee begins the countdown. Jungkook stands there heaving as he watches tiredly.
â..Two..one..â The bell suddenly rings and the crowd cheers.
He did it. Holy shit, he did it!
Both Yoongi and Namjoon rush into the ring together, bringing him into their arms as they jump with joy. âYou fucking did it!â Namjoon smiles happily.
âWhereâsâŠwhereâs y/n?â Jungkook blearily asks as he looks around.
âSheâs right there,â Yoongi points out, âsheâs still here Kook.â
He pulls away from the hug and trudges over to the net, holding it up and holding his arm out for you, âCâmere baby.â He calls out.
You immediately stumble over and climb into the ring with him, sinking right into his arms when he tugs you close. âIâm here,â he whispers, âIâm here.â
âDonât ever scare me like that again! You hear me? I donât ever wanna see you like that.â You whimper and cup his face, âOh Jungkook..â
He smiles softly and leans down to kiss you passionately in front of everyone. You easily melt into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck. When he pulls back he looks around with a stupid grin on his face, âFucking won but everything hurts.â
You frown cutely and ignore the reporters that begin to swarm the two of you. Jungkook keeps you tucked into his side as he answers their questions, âFeels really good I canât lie, even if I feel like shit right now though. But Iâm just glad I won, I've been wanting to dedicate this win to my beautiful girl.â He smiles down at you and kisses the top of your head.
They start throwing more questions at him after that. Theyâre all kind of the same regarding their relationship because theyâre just dying to know all about his relationship to you. They even try to ask you some questions but luckily Yoongi intervenes when it begins to get out of control.
âAlright back up, give Jungkook some space.â Yoongi says as he pushes some reporters away, âYou ready to go Kook?â
âYeah, get me the fuck outta here.â Jungkook groans as he follows after his hyungs with you close by.
Yoongi and the others help Jungkook get into an ice bath as soon as they get into the back room. You work on cleaning the blood off his face and icing his wounds, âDoes it hurt? Well, more than usual?â You softly ask.
âNo babe Iâm fine.â Jungkook replied calmly as he closed his eyes, âThe ice feels really good, Iâm sore all over.â
You hum, âLet me know if Iâm hurting you.â
âI will.â He hums back and sinks into the ice with a relaxed sigh.
The cold sensation on his body is working wonders on his sore muscles. It feels like heâs living the dream right now. He doesnât think he wants to even party after this, sure a big win calls for a celebratory dinner or something but right now cuddling and going to sleep sounds way better.
Yeah, way better.
.
âI thought you were too sore to do anything, what happened to that?â You laugh softly while looking down at him.
Jungkookâs pout deepens, âI can still move my hips, see?â He says and demonstrates with a little thrust up, âPleaseeee! For me baby? I promise Iâll tell you if it hurts or something.â
You look at him in disbelief, âYou literally just got beat up what do you mean please? Look at you! Why the heck is sex even on your mind right now?â
âBecause, you looked so sexy on that billboard on our way back here.â He huffs casually leaving out the part where he raged because everyone can see you and no doubt millions have.
Not that heâs petty but heâs petty, he wanted to tear that shit down and keep it for himself. âThatâs not the point,â he groans and tosses his head back on the pillow, âI can still move and itâs not like my cock got beat up too.â
âYou are so nasty.â You laugh softly and sit back on his lap, âIf I ride you will that make you happy, hm?â
Itâs comical the way his hair bounces when he nods vigorously, âYes.â He says without hesitation, âItâs like a reward.â He grins toothily.
You roll your eyes at him with a sigh, âYouâre so spoiled,â you mumble while reaching down to help him pull his boxers down.
âWait!â Jungkook looks up at you with pouty eyes, âCan you..?â He tugs at the loose shirt youâre wearing.
Immediately you know what he wants and you nod, âMy baby deserves it doesnât he?â You softly say while tossing the garment somewhere else, âDid so good out there,â you purr and lean over him.
His eyes sparkle as he nods, âI did,â he whispers and licks his lips, âmeans I get a reward right?â
âYes you do.â You gently coax him closer as you lean down to press your soft tit to his lips, âTake it, âs all yours.â He latches on without wasting another second.
Your lips part as a soft breathy moan escapes, your soft hand reaches down to fish his hard cock out of his boxers. He shudders when you start stroking him, itâs slow and sensual as you gather bits of precum with your thumb and slowly work your way down around the shaft.
His balls sit heavy and they ache with need to empty themselves in you. Jungkook has to fight the urge to buck his hips as he accidentally grazes his teeth against your bud.
You yelp softly and he pulls away apologetically, âEasy, not so hard.â You softly chastise.
âSorry.â Jungkook murmurs and presses a kiss on your tit before moving to the opposite one.
âJust sit back and relax baby,â you murmur, âI got you.â
You position the head at your weeping pussy, slapping it repeatedly in small taps until the tip catches on your hole. Jungkook holds his breath as you begin to slide down on his sensitive cock until you're bottoming out with your ass meeting his thighs.
âGood?â You softly whisper.
Jungkook nods and goes back to suckling on your nipple in peace. You rock yourself in his lap steadily like youâre scared youâre gonna hurt him but Jungkook encourages you with a little buck. This makes you sink down in his lap with a lewd moan, his cock shifting deeper inside.
âUse me,â Jungkook quietly pipes up, âI can take it.â His breath hot and heavy over your pebbled nipple.
âYou sure? What if I hurt you?â You murmur.
âIâll be fine baby, Iâll let you know if something hurts. Please?â He opens his mouth to take your nipple back in.
You shiver and bite your lip still a bit worried but you end up giving in. You slowly pick up the pace, switching from grinding to bouncing. Thereâs a low smack here and there but itâs nothing too crazy because youâre going as gentle as you can.
Jungkookâs lips tighten around your nipple with every grind and bounce. Your pussy tugs at his cock with the right amount of pressure sending shivers down his spine. He moans softly and moves one hand up to grip your bouncing tit.
âFuck you look good like this,â he breathes out in pleasure.
You groan softly as he squeezes your tit in his strong hand, massaging the soft mound of flesh afterwards. He pulls away to push both tits together and buries his face between them with a happy sigh, âNever wanna leave, I could die a happy man like this sweetheart.â
âYouâre just a perv.â You chuckle with a moan.
âFor you.â Jungkook grins and then lays back, âDonât tell me youâre getting tired already.â He notices that your bouncing has slowed down.
You glare cutely at him and sit up, âI donât like doing the work in case you havenât noticed.â You mumble while grinding back and forth over his cock, âYouâre lucky I love you enough to do this.â
His eyes widen when he hears the words âloveâ and âyouâ in one sentence. It makes his sappy little heart beat with joy and pride hearing those words leave your lips, he canât help but buck his hips upward eagerly.
âJungkook..!â You gasp throwing your head back.
âSay it again baby,â he huffs as he uses his strong grip to haul you up and plop you back down on his lap, âI wanna hear itââ He cuts off with a breathy moan.
âI love you.â The words make him groan louder as he slaps his hips upward.
âFuck I love you too,â he moans, âso, so fuckinâ much, you have no idea.â He whispers and looks up at you through hooded eyes.
You bite your lip hard and throw your head back with a whine, â âm coming.â You whimper.
âOh you like hearing that donât you, knowing damn well that you got me wrapped around your fingers.â Jungkook huffs with exertion as he fucks into you harder.
âY-Yes, love it so much knowing youâre mine,â you mewl softly and grind on him, âfuck, fuck..!â Your pussy clamps down and suddenly youâre coming all over him in slow waves of harsh pleasure.
Jungkook pulls you down for a passionate kiss as he holds you down against his pelvis. A few more rolls has him coming too, cock throbbing and twitching. He lays there panting heavily with hazy eyes while you whine about him being careful.
âDonât put pressure on your side,â you grumble, âI told you we shouldnât have fooled around.â
âIâm fine, see? Nothingâs wrong.â Jungkook laughs and delivers a sharp smack to your ass, âNow tell me you love me again. Wanna hear it from your pretty lips.â He mumbles and traces over your bottom lip.
âI love you.â You fondly sigh.
âAgain.â
âI love you.â
âAgain.â
âYouâre so annoying! Iâm going to shower.â You huff and stomp off with cum leaking down your inner thighs.
Jungkook lays there with a soft grin as he watches you go, âYeah, yeah, I love you too though.â Forever.
And ever.
TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore @rrosiitas
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
âHOW CAN I LOVE WHEN IâM AFRAID TO FALL?â
âI fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.â
pairing: CEO! satoru gojo x f!reader
summary: to your almost regret, your life as a single mother seems to be weighing more and more heavily on your worn-out shoulders. so what could be better than pretending to be the CEOâs girlfriend of the business you work for, knowing that his father is the general manager?
warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, her daughter is called hinata, fake dating/single mom tropes, angst, mother insecurities, fluff, readerâs ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, sex (p in v), overstimulation, pussy drunk (satoru), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (m), this fic is (really slightly) inspired from the french book âun printemps pour te succomberâ by morgane moncomble, including therefore small similar dialogues, (pls guys learn french only to read this masterpiece!!), fanart by @/ilameys on twt.
wc: 10,154
âCan I taste the frosting?â
Your lips curve into a smile. âOf course, angel.â You crouch down and hand the spatula coated in pastel pink frosting to your five-year-old daughter. Her little fist wraps around the handle, and joy spreads across her angelic face like rays of sunshine. âSo? How is it?â
âItâs so good!â she exclaims, and you chuckle.
âIâm glad you like it.â You glance at the clock in your kitchen. âIâll put the frosting in the fridge. While the cake bakes, go back to playing, and Iâll call you to help decorate the cake as soon as itâs ready, okay?â
Hinata nods, blowing you a kiss that you return after a moment of surprised hesitation, your lips forming an âOâ. Amid delighted laughter, she skips away, and you turn back to face the bowl of cake batter.
Why does it have to be so hard?
Every birthday, you hold back tears because who said âsingle momâ doesnât rhyme with âbaking your own birthday cake so your daughter can sing to youâ? But what hurts more â this, or seeing your flesh and blood envy her female friends who have their dads in their arms and their mothers content with their families?
The silence of loneliness can sometimes be louder than company.
âHappy birthday! Happy birthday, mama!â your daughter sings, clapping her hands as you blow out your candles in the warm, yet dimly lit, living room. âCome on, come on! Letâs eat the cake!â
With a knife, you cut two slices, one for each of you, and it only takes a few more minutes for both your mouths to be covered in pink frosting, with laughter echoing in the room. The heartache, briefly chased away by the short-lived joy, returns later that night when your daughter snuggles up in your arms in your double bed, which seems to be missing something.
Fuck, being a single mom is tough, you think as you wipe away the tears flooding your cheeks with the back of your hand. No one to support you, all the responsibilities fall on your shoulders, and now doubts about your daughter start invading your mind: âWhat if she blames you later for not having a father?â, âWhat if she thinks youâre a bad mom?â, âDo her friends at school say anything about you being the only unmarried woman among all the parents in her class?â
These thoughts have never stopped, not even during your pregnancy, whether about the weight gained or lost, or the changes in your body. Are these regrets? But how could you regret bringing such an angel into the world? Maybe itâs more about the lousy partner who left you the second he found out you were pregnant.
Probably the second option.
°°°
âWHERE IS MY SON?!â
A male voice thunders across the entire floor of the company. You jump, turning to one of your colleagues over the small partition set up for employee privacy. âWhoâs yelling like that?â you whisper, eyebrows raised in surprise.
âI heard itâs the new general managerâŠâ
Your frown deepens. âIs that why they handed me the summary of our sales figures to drop off at the office upstairs?â To prove your point, you lift the massive stack of documents.
Your colleague presses his lips together, his eyes widening in a way that already gives you the answer. âOh God, youâre the one in charge of that? Good luck. Itâs to be delivered to the new director.â
A sigh escapes your lips.
For a start to the workweek, it seems youâre about to face the stormy mood of the new boss, who apparently brought his kid to the office. What a perfect beginning.
As usual, the upper floor is deserted, as itâs generally reserved for executives with direct ties to the companyâs CEO. Few people take the elevator to reach the top floor of the skyscraper. Arriving in the lonely hallway, it should be a simple task to knock on the bossâs office door, drop off the elephant-weight stack of documents, and leave.
So why does the sound of running footsteps seem to be getting closer and closer behind you?
In a flash, a man dressed in a navy blue suit rushes past you, bumping your shoulder. He nearly topples the threatening stack of papers, but you manage, at the last second, to catch everything before you lose your balance. The young man opens the door to the womenâs restroom, and before entering, he glances over his shoulder.
Never in your life have eyes made such an impression on you.
Two cerulean blue orbs lock onto yours with a mischievous aura. A smirk tugs at the corner of his thin, pink lips. From his pale skin to his albino hair, the man exudes charm and beauty from every pore. The sheer allure of his appearance leaves your brain too stunned to react, numbing it. How can someone be this handsome?
âSATORU!â
His serene and amused expression vanishes instantly, and you jump in response. Replaced by an exaggerated look of fear, he addresses you, âCover for me. If he asks you, you never saw me!â And his tall, slender body disappears into the womenâs restroom.
More footsteps echo down the hallway, this time from a second man, just as tall and physically similar to the young man you just encountered â though slightly older, with wrinkles lining his face and a mix of albino hair and silver from age. You have no time to react except to straighten up against the wall.
His blue eyes, more gray and stern, settle on you as he approaches. âDid you see a man? A tall idiot running around and flirting with any woman he sees,â he grumbles the last part, his eyes thoughtfully fixed on the light carpet.
You shake your head robotically. âNo⊠Iââ
âNever mind,â he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand â as if your answer is irrelevant and heâs heard it at least twenty times before. He sighs and scratches at the stubble on his chin. âWho are you, anyway?â
âAn employee, sir.â You gesture to the stack of documents thatâs beginning to make its weight known in your arms. âI was asked to drop this off in your office.â The tone of your voice almost pleads with him to let you in and relieve you of the annoying burden.
âThe report? Ah yes, of course.â You sigh in relief as he unlocks the door with his keys. âI suppose youâre wondering who I am?â
âThe new general manager, I guess?â you reply, raising an eyebrow. You drop the heavy stack onto the desk and exhale deeply. âWe heard you on every floor.â You canât help but chuckle at your own remark, offering the director an apologetic smile.
He rolls his eyes, but a light chuckle still rumbles in his chest. âYouâre right. Itâs because of my son.â
His son?
You repeat the word aloud, confused, and he clarifies. âMy son is the new CEO of this company, and I almost regret my decision to give him that position.â He shakes his head, his gaze drifting toward the blue sky visible through the large window, then refocuses on you. âI apologize in advance. Heâs going to be a real handful.â
âI understand. I think weâll manage to put up with him,â you add with a smile.
In the end, this new boss doesnât seem as strict as your colleagues have been saying, and his story about his son is more amusing than anything. You cough slightly into your elbow and clear your throat, murmuring an apology.
âAre you sick?â the director inquires.
âA little,â you admit reluctantly, feeling embarrassed as you adjust the mask on your face. âSorry. I couldnât stay home.â
âNo problem.â He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. âWell, I think I have some work to do. See you later, I suppose.â
You donât hesitate to leave the bossâs office and quietly step into the womenâs restroom. âIs⊠someone here?â you murmur in a hoarse voice.
The creaking of a door answers you, and the general managerâs son emerges from a stall, looking cautious. He looks like a little boy checking to see if his hiding spot in a game of hide-and-seek has been discovered, which makes you stifle a discreet giggle. He turns to you and offers an apologetic smile. âSorry about earlier. I didnât hurt you, did I, sweetheart?â
The nickname catches you off guard, and warmth floods your face. âN-No, Iâm fine. Youâre the new CEO, right?â
âSatoru Gojo, at your service, pretty girl.â He winks, a reminder that heâs quite the flirt.
You introduce yourself in return, running out of things to say, your hands nervously clasped by your sides.
âPretty name,â Satoru murmurs. He closes the stall door behind him and exhales, shaking his head. âPhew! That was a close one! Thanks again!â He strides toward the exit with one last charming smile in your direction, leaving the restroom and a lingering scent of cologne behind him.
°°°°
âWhy arenât you answering?â
âDamn it, youâre so annoying with this!â
âThereâs no point in moving every few months, Iâm going to find you.â
âFor fuckâs sake, answer my messages! I told you I need you! I swear Iâll help you raise Hinata this time.â
âI made a mistake, so let me fix it by answering my fucking messages! I know youâre reading them!â
You swallow hard, your throat tight, and press the âblock this contactâ button on your phone. Itâs the fourth time this month. Heâs been harassing you with messages and finding a way to contact you no matter how many numbers he uses, even when you change yours. The same goes for your address, as apparently changing apartments is no longer enough to escape him.
You know heâs in debt â one of the many consequences of his excessive gambling, even when you were still in a relationship with him. Smoking, drinking, and of course, downing tobacco like it was water, only to charm you while hiding this lifestyle to get you into his bed, then fleeing the moment you were pregnant.
So now that he needs a woman and a child to escape his debts, heâs reaching out to you â the woman he abandoned after promising marriage (without a ring, of course), got pregnant, and deserted, only to come crawling back to you.
âMama? You okay?â
Your daughterâs concerned little voice pulls you out of your daze. The cartoons playing on the TV havenât had the desired effect â theyâre not distracting her from the anxiety thatâs been gnawing at you day by day. Maybe today, itâs showing enough for people to notice?
âIâm fine, angel,â you reassure her with a perfect smile â perfectly fake, because thatâs something youâve learned to anchor over time.
You pat the empty spot on the couch next to you, and she nestles under your arm. âIf you say soâŠâ Hina murmurs, clutching her worn-out bunny plush.
The state of the plush catches your attention, and a pang of guilt stabs at your heart. What kind of mother lets her daughter carry around a stuffed toy in such poor condition? Maybe you are a bad mother? Otherwise, why would Hina deserve such a pitiful situation? She deserves so much better than youâŠ
âLittle angel?â you murmur as she wraps her tiny arms around your waist and nuzzles into your belly. âAre you okay?â
âI love you.â
And the three little words sound⊠unreal.
Hot tears blur your vision, and it takes every bit of strength you have to whisper back, âI love you too, Hina.â
°°°°
3:00 PM.
In less than an hour, youâll need to pick up Hinata from school.
Normally, you avoid lingering at work. You go through your usual routine as an employee, nothing special or fun â a hello, goodbye, see you tomorrow to colleagues without worrying about whatâs happening around you or the gossip, even when it involves coworkers getting together.
The only change: now itâs you who gets stuck with the task of delivering all the documents to the general manager. According to one of your peers, he doesnât seem to be strict or threatening when it comes to you. So this time, youâre tasked with delivering an additional file about the production of a new product on the market to both the CEO and the general manager. For the second time, you head up to the highest floors of the company headquarters to knock on the CEOâs door â itâs the closest. But no one answers.
No surprise, since the directorâs son spends his time running through the hallways to avoid his father and shirk his responsibilities, right?
Youâre about to knock on the Directorâs door, but a familiar gust of wind brushes your face with a soft, fresh breeze. Satoru Gojo appears beside you with a charming smile and glances at what youâre holding.
âH-Hello, sweetheart. How are⊠you?â he greets, slightly out of breath from yet another chase with his father.
âIâm fine. Here.â You hand him one of the folders, and he takes it, pretending to read it. âThe next meetingââ But he grabs the second document and, before you can react, opens the door to his office and casually tosses them inside before shutting the door.
âSATORU GOJO! KEEP IT UP, AND IâLL DISOWN YOU!â The bossâs voice echoes through the entire floor as he appears from behind the emergency exit door. âYOU!â He points a finger at you, standing right next to him. âStill bothering our employees?â He grumbles, his jaw clenched so tightly that you can hear his teeth grinding.
âThatâs not true, father!â Satoru protests, feigning outrage. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. âYouâre chasing me while Iâm just saying hello to my girlfriend?â
You freeze, turning your head toward him, as lost as the Director, who squints his eyes. âYour girlfriend? Since whenââ
âI was going to tell you,â Satoru continues, shaking his head, his fingers squeezing your waist while you remain paralyzed. âHereâs my new girlfriend.â
âAre you lying to me and dragging some poor woman into your childish games?â
In the back of your mind, you note that he doesnât seem to recognize you despite the last time you saw each other.
âWhat? Iâm telling the truth! Isnât that right, sweetheart?â And he leans in to plant an affectionate kiss on your cheek.
Your heart almost stops for a second. But you quickly snap back to reality under the insistent embrace of his arm and his hand around you. âY-YesâŠâ
What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?
âWell, if youâll excuse us, father, my darling and I are in a hurry.â He leads you away before you have time to protest and heads toward the elevator with you.
Once the doors close, Satoru takes your hands in his and leans toward you. âI can explain everything.â
If his cerulean blue eyes hadnât been so persuasive, you would have exploded right there and then to yell at him.
You, the girlfriend of the CEO of the company you work for? Did this really have to happen to you? You can already picture your termination letter under your nose as you exit the back of the building. A glance at your watch tells you that if you donât hurry, youâll be late to pick up your daughter.
âYouâre in a rush?â
âI have to pick up my daughter before Iâm late,â you reply curtly, âand look at the mess Iâm in now!â
âI know, I knowâŠâ Satoru rubs the back of his head, right where his immaculate undercut is. âMaybe I can explain on the way? Whereâs your car?â He looks around the parking lot, his eyes searching.
The question â however mundane â makes you blush with embarrassment. âI⊠take public transportationâŠâ you mumble, pouting.
He furrows his brow, as if you just admitted to showering with maggot-infested soap. âExcuse me? I donât take public transportation.â
âWell, I do.â A hint of defiance returns to protect your pride.
How could he possibly understand when he lives like a rich man, without worrying about grocery shopping, paying bills, and of course, taking public transportation during the week to avoid wasting gas because it costs an arm and a leg! But for him, that must not be part of his daily life, especially since heâs one of societyâs privileged.
âLetâs take my car then.â He says this without waiting for you, as you remain standing there. He pulls out his keys and opens the passenger door. âWhat are you waiting for?â
âButâ Iâ Are you out of your mind?â you burst out. âIâm not getting in that car! Iâm supposed to pick up my daughter, and now Iâm pretending to be your girlfriend! In front of your father!â You emphasize your words with wild, energetic gestures.
He bursts out laughing.
Cute.
âNo chance. Weâre going to pick up your daughter and clear this all up. And please, stop refusing to get into a car thatâs way better than those buses that reek of sweat.â He rolls his eyes, and you note how much he resembles his father when he does that.
âI have an errand to run anyway,â you persist.
âAnd that doesnât change the fact that I want you to get in this car,â Satoru chuckles.
Taking a closer look, the car is as luxurious as the ones you dream about at night â yours, by comparison, looks like a junk heap ready for the scrapyard. Reluctantly, you climb in, Satoruâs chivalrous demeanor not going unnoticed as he snickers at your surrender. He quickly gets in, asks for the address of the school, and sets off after starting his car, which smells just as good as he does. You feel like a piece of trash in the middle of this little universe he inhabits.
âMy father bugs me every day to find a woman,â Satoru murmurs at first, one hand resting on his thigh, clad in business suit trousers, his eyes fixed on the road over his round sunglasses. âThatâs one of the reasons I avoid him.â
âAnd why involve me?â you snap back.
âWell, to be honest, it was partly impulsive. I met you the other day, and then, in the moment, I just wanted my father to leave me alone.â He has a half-smile that makes you swallow hard, and he gives you a knowing look before returning to a serious expression. âIâm sorry for dragging you into all this.â A pause. âI just hope youâre not married, otherwiseââ
âNo, Iâ No.â You close your eyes for a moment, the innocent question burning like a fiery arrow piercing your already aching heart. Did you just hear a sigh of relief? âAnd your father doesnât seem to have recognized me since the other day,â you canât help but point out.
âThe mask.â Satoru grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. âHe didnât recognize you because of that. Heâs always had a bad memory and poor eyesight.â
âBut you recognized me.â You focus on the roadâs scenery to avoid confronting his mesmerizing eyes. âIâm not going to wear my mask forever, you know? And I donât want to keep pretendingââ
âPlease,â Satoru whispers, placing a hand on yours, sending a shiver down your spine. âJust until he and my family get off my back.â
âIâm sorry, butââ
âHow much do you want?â He asks immediately, as if he just remembered something.
âWhat? No! I donât want your money!â you protest as quickly as he did. âNo, IâŠâ And you groan, sinking into your seat.
Holy shit!
âWhat have I gotten myself into, seriouslyâŠâ you moan, crossing your arms over your chest, a grimace distorting your features.
âPlease. I know itâs a lot to ask, but Iâll do everything to make it just a minor detail⊠Iâm only asking you to change your name in front of my father when you pass as my girlfriend, wear a mask, and change your hairstyle at work â if we want to avoid suspicion. He wonât suspect a thing, I swear.â He pulls into the school parking lot and parks quietly.
Thoughts bombard your already exhausted mind, and you massage your temples. Why does this have to happen to you and no one else?
Satoru murmurs your name, making you lift your head. âIt will only be a few family events, just for appearances, nothing more. I wonât bother you any further.â
You sigh, and the sound of the bell signaling the end of classes rings out. âI need to think about it. Thanks for the ride. Have a niceââ
âCome back. Iâll take you home,â Satoru suggests, pressing the button to unlock your door.
Whatâs the point of refusing?
You nod, finally getting out of the car to go pick up your daughter, who runs toward you as soon as you reach the gate.
"Mama!" She jumps into your arms.
You return her embrace, heading towards Satoruâs car. âDid you have a good day?â
âSo much fun! I made you a drawing!â Sheâs practically bouncing as you reach the car.
Noticing your daughterâs confused look, you clear your throat. âUh⊠A-A friend of mine is giving us a ride home, okay?â She blinks innocently and waits for you to open the car door, which is almost as tall as she is. Hinata gets in as you do, and you cough slightly. âThis is Gojo. My friend.â
âHello, princess.â Satoru turns his head over his shoulder with a big smile. âWhatâs your name?â
âHinata,â she replies, her legs gently swinging.
âVery pretty.â
âThank you.â She blushes and tries to hide a smile.
On the way, you try to fill the awkward silences with small talk until you arrive at the supermarket.
You had promised to buy Hinata a new stuffed animal since last night after spending hours worrying that you werenât being a good mother. Again.
âThat one!â Hinata almost runs towards a bunny plushie thatâs twice the size of her head. She grabs it with her little arms and gives it a hug.
Satoru and you reach the aisle, and out of habit, you check the price under the albinoâs watchful eye. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you see the amount, and you place a trembling hand on Hinaâs shoulder. âAngel, I think itâsââ
ââŠPerfect,â Satoru finishes, his large hands taking the plushie from your daughterâs tight embrace to check the price tag with its shocking number. âDo you like it, little one?â he asks, looking down at her.
Hina nods energetically. âYeah!â
âThen weâll take it.â Satoru hands the plushie back to her and turns towards the checkout lane, already reaching into one of his pockets for what looks like⊠a wallet.
You react immediately, your hands finding their way around his arm. He doesnât push you away at all and even smiles at the contact. âGojo⊠No.â
âItâs Satoru to you, sweetheart,â he whispers gently. âAnd why not? Itâs just a stuffed animal,â he scoffs. He takes Hinataâs hand so she can place the plushie on the conveyor belt.
âNo, itâs not nothing to me,â you persist through clenched teeth, embarrassed that the cashier might be paying attention to your conversation.
Satoru shrugs. The cashier scans the plushie, and he uses contactless payment to pay for it. With your hands still around his arm, he places one of his on top, an intimate closeness.
âI could get used to this,â he murmurs near your ear, making you turn beet red. But he canât continue as your daughter clings to Satoruâs leg like a koala, showering him with a thousand thank-yous for the gift. âYouâre welcome, little one.â His hand gently ruffles her hair. He grins, now turning back to you. âItâs on me. You donât owe me anything.â
Your discreet protests, so Hinata doesnât suspect anything, come to an end when he drops both of you off in front of your home. Hinata commented that Satoruâs car looked like the one from the movie Barbie: Princess Charm School she had seen recently. He unlocks the doors as you get out of the car. Satoruâs hand catches yours, slipping a piece of cardstock into it. His contact details are on it.
âJust in case,â he mouths silently.
Nevertheless, you slip the business card into your pocket and respond just before closing the door, âI accept.â
°°°°
âAnd no funny business, okay? Never run in the hallways, if he tells you to wait, donât move an inch, andââ You stop yourself as you notice your daughter is more interested in admiring the elegant decorations of the office hallways with wide, doe-like eyes and an adorable, slightly open mouth.
To your great misfortune, Hinataâs preschool is on strike for a while â which means almost all the teachers are absent. So how do you take care of your daughter when you canât afford to miss work? By bringing her to your fake boyfriendâs office, of course! You quickly make your way toward Satoruâs office, Hinata following with her hand in yours. But just as you raise your fist to knock on his door, two large hands land on your shoulders, nearly scaring the life out of you.
âHey, hey!â You whip around abruptly, a new mask on your face â just as the plan intended.
âSatoruâŠâ you grit through your teeth. Hinata looks up at him and grins. You sigh.
âWhat do I owe the pleasure of all this lovely company?â Satoru asks, not taking his eyes off yours while giving Hinata a high-five.
As usual, heâs dressed in a luxurious suit â probably worth the rent of the apartment you live in â his slightly tousled albino hair and the familiar scent of cologne filling your nostrils. You catch yourself staring a little too long, and mentally kick yourself when his curious gaze turns mischievous.
He just realized you were checking him out, damn it!
âHinataâs school is on strike. I need you to watch her for the day, if thatâs not a problem, and since you seemed so insistent on returning the favor Iâm doing for youâŠâ you mumble, avoiding his gaze. âI see youâre spending your day roaming the offices rather than staying in yoursâŠâ
âNo problem at all,â Satoru replies automatically, a pleased smile on his lips. âReady to go to the CEOâs office?â He picks up Hina, who giggles and clings to him like a koala.
Itâs your turn to smile in relief. âThank you so much. I have a meeting with your father in an hour, and Iâll come get her at noon and again at the end of the day.â The sight of the two of them close together makes your heart melt â and for once, you donât blame yourself for seeing Hinata happy to be with someone else.
°°°°
5:00 PM.
Youâve sent a message to Satoru asking where he was, since knocking on his perpetually empty office seems to be pointless. The meeting with the other company members about organizing the launch of a new product was particularly painful, but one thing is certain: the general manager didnât recognize you with your more subdued hairstyle and the mask plastered on your face.
âCome to the parking lot like last time.â
And thatâs the last message from Satoru (you gave him your number during lunch).
In the empty parking lot, only Satoruâs car is present, and you cast a curious glance through the windows. The two troublemakers give you a grimace â tongues sticking out and faces scrunched up. You sigh as the passenger door opens automatically.
âSatoru, you donât have toââ
âHina said yes and that she wants to come to my place,â Satoru cuts in with a mocking expression.
Reluctantly, you get in, your heart pounding in your chest with all sorts of panicked thoughts. However, Satoru doesnât seem to share your reservations and starts driving as soon as youâre settled.
âSo, this means youâre coming to my place,â he says, hands on the wheel and a quick glance in the rearview mirror, âand Iâm inviting you to dinner.â
âNoââ
âMom! Please, Satoru is being too nice.â Hinata complains. You glance back, and she looks at you with wounded, pleading puppy eyes, arms crossed over her chest.
You grumble, slumping back against your seat as they both cheer in victory.
âBy the way, Iâm stopping by your place so you can pack. Weâre invited to a family wedding, and my father invited us.â
âWHAT?â
°°°°
You place a box with your gift on the designated table for presents, and an arm wraps around your waist. âYou look stunning,â Satoru murmurs against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, which breaks out in goosebumps.
With a flushed face, you turn your head. âSatoruâŠâ
âWhat? Just because weâre pretending to be a couple and barely know each other doesnât mean I canât speak the truth.â He pauses. âWell, actually, we do know each other a bit, donât we? Weâve had dinner together.â He chuckles at your half-grimacing, half-deadpan expression, pulling you closer as music fills the wedding reception hall.
You turn your head along with him toward the back of the room, where the brideâs bouquet is about to be thrown. A tight smile curves your lips â this is one thing youâve dreamed of. Dreams have always been just that â dreams in your life, and even when love comes knocking at your door, itâs only passing through, just like your situation with Satoru.
His father didnât notice anything, and since Satoru lives alone in a villa, itâs hard to say no when he offered for you to stay with him until heâs settled, with your own room and a staff available 24/7. He even had a tailor make a custom dress for the wedding you were both invited to. Hinata is looked after by a lovely nurse, and youâre enjoying a life youâve always dreamed of. So why not make the most of it despite your past?
A Satoru whoâs too comfortable with you isnât so bothersome given the time youâve spent together lately â both at the office, acting as a couple in front of certain people, and sometimes showing affection to each other to appear believable, even though they havenât asked for kisses yet, soâ
A fluffy and soft object lands right in the middle of your face and falls into your arms. You search for what seems to be a petal in your mouth and suck in your breath at what you realize it is.
The brideâs bouquet.
A gulp forces its way down your throat as the whole room applauds because⊠youâve been hit in the face with the bouquet? Not to mention the lamentations of other female cousins who had jumped with all their hopes to catch it⊠But why you, who hadnât asked for anything?
âSweetheart?â Satoru mutters, his chest still pressed against your back. His tone is so sweet, nonchalant, as if youâve been a couple for years. âMy father is watching us, and I think heâs expecting me to do something.â
You swallow and nod, dreading what might happen next. Will your heart stop beating when Satoru says:
âMay I kiss you?â
Never, ever, has anyone asked you that question. Not even your ex.
So, with a nervous nod, you allow him to capture your lips in a soft, languid kiss. His tender lips taste like the cotton candy children eat at the fair. They cherish yours with every movement (which you canât help but return in kind). Each press sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
When the kiss ends, Satoru places one last kiss on the corner of your lips and clears his throat. âThis is the first time Iâve wanted to marry my girlfriend.â His warm breath ignites your body.
Has your heart exploded?
If not, why canât you breathe?
âAwww⊠How adorable you are with your pretty girlfriend, Satoru!â
An elderly woman approaches you both, supported by her old cane, and you note her albino hair, similar to Satoruâs.
âMy dear auntâŠâ Satoru smiles widely without breaking away from you.
âYou make a lovely couple,â Aunt Gojo continues, giving you a wise look.
âOh, thank you.â You immediately bow and introduce yourself. Satoruâs hands squeeze your waist, and he chuckles at your manners.
âTake good care of her, you idiot,â the aunt finishes before drifting away, a tap of her cane on Satoruâs head making him sigh and rub his sore skull.
âWell, at least we look convincing, right?â he adds.
âYesâŠâ
Of course, he said that because he saw his aunt before you! Donât think he said it because he meant it orâ
âBy the way,â Satoru takes your hand in his and leads you to the center of the dance floor, âI meant what I said before my aunt interrupted us.â
And youâre at a loss on how to interpret his playful wink.
°°°°
âWOW! Hinata, youâre so rich!â
âIs this your dadâs castle?â
Hinata takes Satoruâs hand and faces her friends in his chic living room. âItâs my daddyâs!â She nods proudly and runs off with them toward the games and festivities organized for her birthday. The children run everywhere, scream, and burst into laughter throughout the room. The perfect atmosphere.
Itâs exactly what youâve always dreamed of giving Hina.
âYou didnât have to do this,â you murmur to Satoru, who, despite your comment, shakes his head joyfully.
âIâm glad she likes it,â he replies.
âI wasnât talking about the party.â
He freezes and turns his head toward you. âDidnât you tell me youâd never been married?â he dares to whisper, possibly afraid of hurting you.
âThatâs true. My ex left after learning I was pregnant with Hinata.â You exhale the breath youâve been holding, the weight of the secret finally lifted.
Maybe he wonât want to keep pretending to be your boyfriend after thisâŠ
âYou can still tell me his name, you know, sweetheart?â Satoru moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, as if itâs completely natural for him, but thereâs a tension in his touch. âI can take care of him andââ
You shake your head to dispel the tiny bit of resentment thatâs urging you to say yes. âItâs okay. Thanks for agreeing to pretend to be her father. I know itâs going to be a bit of a hassle for a while, but she cares a lotââ
âNuh-uh.â He places a kiss on your cheek, then another on the side of your neck, causing you to shiver. âSheâs already talked about it in my office.â
You open your eyes wide. âWhatâŠ?â
âHinata likes you much more than you think⊠Youâve suffered too much,â His other hand glides over your stomach, and his thumb traces affectionate circles on your waist.
âThank you,â you breathe, leaning into his touch. And for a moment, the weight on your shoulders completely lifts. âWe havenât had the best birthdays recently, so Iâm happy to see Hinata get what she wants.â Your eyes rest on your daughter, dressed as a fairy, waving her glittery wand at one of her friends dressed as a witch. âSo, thank you for everything.â
âNo need to thank me, sweetheart. But which birthday are you talking about? Yours? When was it?â
Embarrassed, your mouth feels dry. â...A while ago.â
Satoru pulls you tightly against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you, his nose buried in your hair. âYouâre such a strong woman⊠I can take care of you if you want. You and Hina will live like princesses, and if you want to sleep with her or have your own room, thatâs no problem for me.â
âWhat? No, Satoru, youâre jokingâŠâ
âIâm not joking,â he insists, his gaze diving into yours â and for a second, sincerity fills his cerulean eyes.
With your mouth slightly open, you whisper, âWe barely know each other, andââ
âMama! Papa! We need to break the piñata!â Hinata rushes over to you, not paying any attention to how close you are to Satoru, and grabs each of your hands.
âYes, angel, weâre coming,â you respond to your daughter with a weary smile, before glancing at Satoru, who is no longer looking in your direction.
Why are his ears so red?
°°°°
You place the last birthday decoration box in a corner of the living room as Satoru asked and straighten up with a grimace from your aching back. âGeezâŠâ
The upper floor of the huge house is strangely quiet, and you furrow your brows. Could they have gone downstairs?
âHinata? Satoru?â you call out as you walk through the hallways.
The evening darkness makes it hard to see clearly, and only the faint beam of light escaping from the kitchen door guides you.
âAre you there?â you ask, gently pushing the door open, and what you find leaves you stunned.
âHAPPY BIRTHDAY!â the two of them exclaim, holding an enormous cake between them.
A few candles illuminate the underside of their beaming faces, party hats perched on their heads. The kitchen is a huge mess, counters covered in flour and frosting, and dishes overflow from the sink, threatening to topple over.
You stand speechless as they continue to sing your birthday song. Your nostrils and eyes start to itch strangely. Why is your vision suddenly blurring? It looks like transparent waves just above your lower lashes, threatening to overflow if you dare to blink. Yet, you canât escape it.
Not when they set the cake on the table and pull you into a hug while your nose runs, tears roll down your cheeks, and your choked-up throat is on the verge of bursting into sobs. Satoru keeps kissing your hair, never stopping for a second to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, his hand drawing circles on your back. Hinata wipes your tears while her own roll down her little cheeks.
Seeing you cry has always been contagious for her.
The moment gives you a glimpse of what your life would be like if you had a complete family, and Satoruâs words echo in your mind. How could he be so perfect in just a few weeks of knowing him?
Once the emotion passes, a few minutes later, you eat your birthday cake with laughter and cheer, accompanied not just by the one person who now means everything to you, but by both.
°°°°
âWatch out, Hina. You have applesauce on your chin,â Satoru chuckles, his hand grabbing a napkin to wipe the excess food around the childâs mouth.
The heartwarming scene makes your heart swell. You definitely donât regret going out with Satoru and Hinata to have a meal at a chic terrace in their company. The family atmosphere finally gives you a glimpse of the life youâve always hoped to live. Hinata growing up with a loving father and mother, and you, loved and supported by an ideal partner. Why not reconsider Satoruâs proposal, then? Heâs the first man to think of you, even after your birthday had passed some time ago.
âIâm going to the restroom,â you murmur to Satoru, who nods in response, a wry smile curling his pink lips.
But why did it have to be on this day that a man finally approaches the two people you care about just as you slip away? He clearly waited from afar for you to let your guard down around your daughter so he could show up right in the middle of the table, facing a little girl â his daughter, technically â next to a man who isnât her father.
Satoru slowly raises his head toward him, brows furrowed and wary. âCan I help you?â
Your ex says your name. âWhere is she?â he mimics asking as if he didnât know.
âWhat do you want with her?â
âTo talk to her. I have the right. And youâre with my daughter, just so you know.â He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to appear threatening, but Satoru remains stoic, more contemptuous than anything else in the face of such a scruffy, unshaven nuisance.
âSheâs not here; you can leave,â Satoru responds. And out of protective instinct, he pulls Hinataâs chair closer to him, his eyes narrowed. Satoru understands perfectly that your ex is back to claim his rights over his daughter, just as heâs been harassing you with messages about it.
âExcuse me? When my daughter is in the arms of a stranger? I could call the police immediately and weâll sort this out very quickly,â your ex retorts sharply. He takes a step toward a lost Hinata, her big doe eyes blinking innocently between the two men. Of course, she doesnât recognize him.
An altercation begins between the two, which naturally attracts the attention of other diners around. And you walk into the middle of the scene, frozen in shock at the sight of your ex hurling threats at Satoru.
âSheâs taking my daughter, so Iâm taking her back! And itâs not a bastard like you whoâs going to help her regain my rights!â your ex spits with venom. His icy eyes find yours, terrified, your hands trembling and your complexion as pale as a sheet. Heâs about to address you with the same angry speech, his face flushed with rage and a vein ready to burst at his temple.
Do you get déjà vu?
ââYour daughterâ?â Satoru repeats with a deadly gaze and a jaw quivering with rage. âSheâs been sitting next to me for over an hour, Iâve been feeding her for over an hour, sheâs been calling me by my name for over an hour, and youâre talking about âyour daughterâ? At this point, whose daughter is she... yours or mine?â
Your ex, publicly humiliated, opens his eyes wide with hatred. âYou little son ofââ
âSir, we ask that you leave the terrace; youâre disturbing our customers,â a security guard declares firmly. Heâs accompanied by another colleague, and when your ex protests, they grab him by the arm and escort him away amidst his shouting and the murmurs of other customers who keep staring at the three of you.
You move closer to Satoru, who immediately stands up upon seeing you â having not realized you were there â and can only offer you an apologetic look. âLetâs go,â you silently mouth (your throat too tight to dare let a sound escape, fearing it might break before you say anything), taking the hand of a silent and lost Hinata. âIâll pay the bill andââ
âItâs already taken care of; we can go,â Satoru gently interrupts, following you to his car.
And itâs on the silent drive back that you realize something.
Youâve officially fallen in love with Satoru Gojo.
°°°°
âLook, Mom, Dad and I made a drawing for you!â Hinata proudly holds up a colorful picture with three easily recognizable characters on it.
âDid you brush your teeth?â you ask as you take the drawing to admire it, just as much smiling as your daughter. She nods and then does a little twirl to show off her new pajamas that Satoru gave her earlier in the day. âItâs beautiful. Youâre so talented,â you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek.
Satoru appears in the doorway of Hinataâs room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a perpetual playful smile curving his lips. âReady to go to sleep?â
âYes, and I showed our drawing to mama,â Hinata asserts, bouncing on her bed.
âOh yeah? Did mama like it?â Satoru asks softly, his eyes now locked with yours.
âMama loved it and thanks Daddy,â you whisper, your voice quivering with emotion that threatens to spill over.
Half an hour later, Satoru and you find yourselves in the hallway with a sleeping Hinata and her little lullaby snores.
Satoru wraps his arm around your waist as usual and buries his face in your neck. Your heart is already racing, and your breath catches when he says, âIâm sorry.â
âWhy?â The embrace is a simple hug but with unspoken words easily guessed.
âFor everything.â Satoru sighs, and for a split second, you hope heâll let you speak, but no. âI didnât mean to make a scene andââ
âAnd you think Iâm going to blame you for protecting us? That I wasnât touched by what you said about Hina?â you mumble near his ear. The closeness gives you another chance to see his ears turn red. âIs Satoru shy?â you giggle, open to teasing. He hums, hiding his face so you donât see his expression.
âI love you.â
You blink, because you must have heard wrong. âHuh?â
âMarry me.â And heâs already on his knees before you, eyes pleading. That usually confident cerulean blue is now so submissive, so close at hand⊠But the sudden turn of events leaves you stunned. âI want to be your husband, not just have you as my wife. I want to raise Hina with you and give you everything you need.â Not letting himself be distracted by your stunned expression, he continues, âWant my money? Iâll give it to you. My house? It will be in your name. Want my body? It belongs to you. My heart? Itâs already yours.â And he starts kissing the backs of your hands desperately. âI love you, I love you⊠Please, marry meâŠâ
âSatoru⊠Youââ you stammer, backing away, your brow furrowed. Everything is a jumble in your head, both from his touching declaration but also because itâs all moving too fast for you. âYou⊠love me?â you manage to whisper.
He crawls to you and wraps his large arms around your thighs, almost choking with desperation. âI fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.â He whispers your name like a divine invocation. âIâve fallen in love with you more than just once.â
You donât immediately respond, and thatâs okay in his eyes. He doesnât want to pressure you, just for you to know the truth and for him to be completely transparent with you.
âItâs okay if you donât share my feelings; I just want you to know thatââ But heâs cut off by your rush toward him on the floor as you press your lips to his, pulling him into the dance of your lips that one gives to the other in a long, passionate kiss. âGod⊠I love you so muchâŠâ
âI love you too, Satoru,â you murmur against his mouth between kisses that turn into moans as he slides his warm, wet tongue between your lips to request access to your mouth.
Both of your breaths become ragged and heavy. Satoru takes the opportunity to lift you by the underside of your thighs and lead you to his bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him without breaking the contact of your swollen, desirous lips. He gently lays you on the king-size bed with silver satin and frost-blue sheets.
With a tenderness of loving slowness, Satoru breaks the kiss. âDo you want to continue?â he asks, his voice husky. You nod timidly, but he shakes his head with his mischievous smile â finally back. âNuh-uh. Your words, sweetheart.â
âI want it, Satoru,â you reply after a sigh of exasperation so adorable in his eyes that it makes him laugh, then he places a light kiss on the corner of your lips.
âAlright⊠Gonna take care of my beautiful girl, the best, the most wonderful mother, and maybe future wifeââ He places a finger on your lips. âOh no, youâll answer that later if you want, when I have something concrete for that occasion.â
You sigh in frustration because the answer is already on the tip of your tongue, but it soon turns into a moan as he kisses the side of your neck with such deliberate slowness that you really wonder if heâs going to tease you to the limit. His hands roam over your clothed chest, exploring your already hardened nipples. His lips find their way to your collarbone, marking it with love bites and hickeys that elicit muffled moans from you.
âIf you knew how long Iâve dreamed of doing thisâŠâ Satoru comments with a touch of affection, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. âExactly how I would act with my wifeââ
âAnd your father?â And he chuckles again.
âWe donât care about him.â He casually tosses your top aside to tease your sensitive, erect nipples through the fabric with his thumbs. âSuch humble underwear⊠Would you like me to buy you something more daring?â he purrs, pulling on a strap to snap it against your gooseflesh-covered skin.
âWould you do that?â You bring your lips to his, and he immediately responds to the kiss. You also remove his black turtleneck sweater to reveal his toned, muscular torso. An adventurous hand glides over his chest, making him groan slightly, and then stops at his lower abdomen where a vein runs lower down. You place a kiss there with a small, sly smile.
For the first time, youâre about to make love with someone.
âHmm? Satoru? Have you ever thought of me in outfits like this?â Your nimble fingers unbutton his pants, revealing a prominent bulge in his fly.
âSweetheart, donâtââ he hisses between his teeth from the sensation of the slight friction between his erection and your eager fingers as they pull down his pants to caress and rub his dick through the thin fabric of his boxer. âYour hands feel so goodâŠâ He breathes softly, his hands stroking your bare arms with a feather-light touch.
âAnswer my questionâŠâ you purr, your nails pulling at the underwear to free his hard, twitching cock. The tip is perfectly reddened, with veins coursing along its pale length of 8 inches. Almost automatically, your mouth waters, and you waste no time kissing the slit of his already glistening tip with pre.
âBabe, donât teaseâŠâ Satoru closes his eyes and lets your hand wrap around his length, begging to be touched. âF-fuckâ Yes, yes, Iâve thought about it, about buying you the most expensive and luxurious lingerieâ ah!â he almost whimpers. You take a little over 2 inches of him into your mouth to stroke the base. âBut also in those maternity clothesâ oh god⊠C-can you really blame me?â He rolls his eyes and canât help but buck his hips toward you, his body pleading for your mouth to take care of him.
You withdraw his cock from your mouth to whisper, âSo youâre a naughty boy, hmm?â
âI wonât last if you keep this upâ hgnnâŠâ he whimpers completely, his dick splitting your mouth in two as you take him all in. Your head starts to bob back and forth, and he is so close that he spills moans of your name. âGânna cum, baby, donâtââ
You hollow your cheeks, and the next moment, he cums in your mouth, long, thick ropes of his release filling your already full mouth with his shaft. You hum under his orgasm and swallow slowly. You slide his dick out of your mouth with the same rhythm to smile at a Satoru with ears as red as his cheeks.
âF-fuck, sweetheart,â he pants, his calloused finger wiping away the mixed cord of your saliva and his cum with a swipe of his thumb.
âM-hmm⊠You taste so sweetâŠâ He doesnât let you continue and crushes his lips against yours, tasting himself on your mouth. âI want you, SatoruâŠâ
âIâm yours, princess.â He helps you quickly remove your remaining underwear so that youâre completely naked in front of him, knees resting on the expensive mattress. He kneels at the foot of the bed, and his fingers explore your sensitive, already dripping cunt.
âSo wet for me⊠Did I do this to you just with my cock?â His fingers spread your swollen folds to gather your fluids and rub your throbbing, needy clit.
Your nails dig into his arm as you lift your hips under the sharp pleasure. âSatoru, it feels goodâŠâ you gasp in a whimper. His forefinger and middle finger spread your wetness all around your intimacy. âPlease donât teaseâŠâ
âNot tease? Werenât you doing it, sweetheart? What a nerve,â Satoru scoffs, tapping his finger at your entrance. âCan I?â
âPleaseâŠâ You wince as you move your hips down for more. And thatâs exactly what he does, immediately inserting his finger into you, cursing.
âYouâre so fucking tight⊠and so wet,â he curses, his finger moving in and out of you with careful softness. âI can already fuck you without making you cum first.â He stops finger-fucking you and looks up at you. âIs that what you want, love?â
You nod before arching your back on the bed. Satoru climbs onto the mattress and helps you wrap your legs around him. âThatâs itâŠâ He takes his length in his hand and teases your responsive cunt with the tip to get it wetter.
âDonât tease, Toru, I swearâŠâ And he smirks.
âToru?â
âSorry, Iââ
His tip presses against your tight, pulsing entrance, and he grins. âI want you to moan that nickname while I fuck you, âkay?â He grips your hips to pull you closer to him, and with one swift movement, he slides into you, a groan escaping from behind his lips as your deliciously tight, warm, gummy walls wrap around him as if you were meant for him.
The stretch causes a slight discomfort at first, and you almost cry in relief when Satoru notices. He patiently waits for you to adjust before starting a slow, deep rhythm inside you.
You widen your lustful eyes, tears forming at their corners. âAh! Toru⊠Jusâ like thatâŠâ Your eyes roll back as the tip of Satoruâs dick hits the back of your cervix, making you shiver and tighten around him. âFuck⊠sâdeepâŠâ
âSo fucking perfect, so fucking mine,â Satoru groans, his hips rocking into you without ceasing to swell between your gummy walls. His chest rises and falls in a breath as ragged as yours, asking for more every time you moan for him to go deeper. (He discreetly rolls his eyes and babbles incomprehensible words â completely pussy drunk.)
And thatâs exactly what he does. He slams back in brutally, making you cry out his name with each thrust. âShhh⊠You donât want Hina to hear us, right? So keep quiet, babyâŠâ He helps stifle your gasps and moans of pleasure by capturing your lips with his, alternating between fast, rough thrusts and slow, gentle ones in your hole that he fucks shamelessly.
Blood rushes to your ears, a rare sensation you havenât truly felt the last time you were with someone. It wasnât just about carnal pleasure between Satoru and you â but about love. The fusion of bodies loving each other and providing mutual pleasure, even as they burn for each otherâ physically and emotionally.
One of Satoruâs hands slowly slides to one of your breasts and teases a sensitive nipple. The arch in your back encourages him to detach his mouth from yours to capture the other nipple with his wet lips. The growl he lets out sends a wave of intense shivers through you, making your eyes roll in overstimulation.
âP-please, Toru, please, Iâm already close,â you whimper against your trembling palm â a feeble attempt to contain your sweet sounds as he speeds up his hip movements in your sloppy cunt â the sound of his balls slapping your skin filling the room. Your words are punctuated by the tightening of your walls around him, swearing he could cum inside you just from hearing you beg.
âCum on my cock, baby, cover it,â he coos, giving another kiss to your abused chest. The clenching of your jaw with your teeth dug into your lower lip forces you to groan. âWant me to fill you up?â And you nod, tears showing your imminent orgasm. âAnything for you, my beautiful girl.â His hips slam against yours, and his fingers continue to tease your breast, rubbing your puffy clit.
Satoruâs own breath becomes heavier, more labored as he keeps singing praises while you gasp, his lips pressed along the line of kisses heâs placing down your jaw. âT-Toru, Toru, cumming!â you cry out as your walls spasm around his cock while he reaches his peak and fills you with his hot, liquid release, warming your lower abdomen. You see blinding stars illuminating your vision.
He hisses almost gutturally, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. âOh god⊠S-Squeezing me while Iâm cumming tooâŠâ He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his peak subside at the same rhythm as yours, his forehead damp with sweat resting against your chest.Â
Only pants and groans escape your lips, each one accompanied by difficult swallows and the feeling of your sweaty bodies pressed against each other.
âHow was it? Did I make you feel good?â Satoru asks immediately, once his breath has returned.
The concerned questions touch your heart so deeply that you lift tearful eyes to him. âAre you going to leave, after this?â
His expression falters, and he gently withdraws from you to envelop you in his embrace. âNo, baby, of course not⊠I wonât, I swear on my life I wonât leave you⊠Iâm not him. Iâm the one who hopes you wonât leaveâŠâ he whispers hurriedly. âDonât think about that. Iâll always be here, for you and for HinaâŠâ
You sniffle, your eyes red. But Satoru smiles tenderly, wiping away your hot tears. âSave your tears for later, sweetheart.â
âWhy?â You clear your throat.
He sighs, the aftermath of the effort from the activity settling on him, and places a chaste kiss on your sweaty temple. âDid I tell you that my father invited us to dinner tomorrow night?â
âNo,â you shake your head, âbut whatâs the link?â
âDonât you understand?â he murmurs in your ear, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. âIt doesnât matter. Youâll understand in time.â
°°°°
âI see. So it was an unexpected encounter.â Gojoâs father nods, shrugging his shoulders. âBut I wonder how a woman like you can have feelings for such a foolâŠâ
Satoru chokes on a piece of meat heâs chewing and takes a sip of his water. You stifle a giggle, with some steamed vegetables speared on your fork, just waiting for you to devour them. For a man who appears so stern and strict, Mr. Gojo is quite a wealthy man who spends his days reprimanding his son for not doing this or that.
Yet, thereâs a certain paternal camaraderie between them â a father-son relationship, if you will.
âThatâs not true,â Satoru retorts, his voice still gravelly. He has an adorable pout on his lips, like a child wrongly scolded.
âYes, like youâre not a womanizer,â his father retorts, rolling his eyes.
âIt was so youâd leave me alone,â with furrowed brows, he wears a mischievous smile at his fatherâs incredulous expression, âbut sweetheart came into my life,â he continues, looking at you with a tenderness he has rarely shown.
âI hope you manage to put up with him until⊠well, until you decide to marry â if thatâs what you choose,â his father sighs, turning his attention back to the dish in front of him.
âSatoru isnât a bad person, you know,â you start gently. âHe is certainly a thoughtless brat with grotesque immaturity,â Satoru almost spits out his water this time, and you continue with a wry smile, âbut he has a great sense of attention and unmatched generosity. I believe he will be a good husband, I assure you.â
âI must admit,â he says with a wise smile, his wrinkles less pronounced.
Satoru casually says your name, âYeah, yeah⊠By the way, could you pass me the salt, please?â
You freeze, while Satoruâs father suddenly looks up with an incredulous expression. âWho?â
And you smack your forehead with the palm of your hand.
°°°°
The cries of a newborn fill the room as, breathless and on the verge of fainting, the midwives congratulate you, bringing your second child wrapped in clean blankets at your request.
âHeâs beautifulâŠâ Satoru murmurs as he approaches you, leaning down to the tiny baby with his albino hair and blue eyes â his exact likeness. âThank you, my love, thank you, thank you, thank youâŠâ His voice breaks as you raise a weak, exhausted hand toward him, but with a serene smile on your lips as you whisper how much you love each other.
He immediately wraps his fingers around yours, your wedding rings sparkling as they brush together like stars sealed for eternity.
a/n: how i love desperate men, hihi! đ€ hope you all enjoyed this one-shot!
tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison
#[azra masterlist]#[dividers by @/saradika]#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo fanfiction#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo angst#satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#jjk fanfiction#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujustsu kaisen x reader#gojo angst#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#jjk smut#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru fanfiction#gojo satoru fluff#jujustu kaisen#gojo x reader smut
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Albatross
summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegonâs first child and his entire world changes.
pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader
word count: 767
warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.
note: âAlbatrossâ is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)
Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features â but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you couldâve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.
It wasnât your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brotherâs served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyraâs infidelity.
Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.
Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.
âI canât do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!â you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.
âWeâre almost there, my love. Youâre doing a great job,â your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.
âI cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!â
One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.
Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.
âYou know we canât do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.â
You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegonâs sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You werenât sure if you would be willing to go through this again.
âI can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.â
You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.
âYou hear that? Youâre almost done. Youâre doing so good.â
You squeezed onto Aegonâs hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.
Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and cooâs from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.
Finally.
The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.
âA girl,â she stated proudly, âand she looks just like you, my queen.â
âLike me?â You shot up.
âLay back your grace, you need to relax,â she scolded you.
Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldnât have been more wrong.
âYes,â he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, âlike you. She is absolutely beautiful.â
He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.
A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?
He couldnât help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.
Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegonâs head it wasnât until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family
#aegon targaryen#aegon II targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x you#aegon II targaryen x reader#aegon II x you#tom glynn carney#aegon targaryen drabble#aegon targaryen imagine#aegon ii#aegon ii drabble#Aegon fluff#dad!aegon#aegon x strong!reader#house of the dragon#hotd#aegon targaryen fluff#aegon ii targaryen fluff#king aegon
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - youâd decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.
last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - youâd been tipsy enough to take her advice.Â
casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone youâre sure you won't fall in love with.
this morning youâd woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.
you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak.Â
âdid we reallyââÂ
âthree times,â satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. âi'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.â
when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. âdonât get familiar.â
âweâre naked together in bedâ we slept together in more than the literal sense. canât get more familiar than that.âÂ
âand this never happen again,â you promise, refusing to look at him.Â
âwhy? because youâre afraid youâll fall in love with me? itâs okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.âÂ
youâve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. heâs satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. youâre no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan.Â
people like him donât fall for people like you. youâre afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt.Â
âweâre friends,â you tell him honestly. âi donât want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.âÂ
he tilts his head as your look at him. âshoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?â
âshe told you?â you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again.Â
âhey, look at me,â he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. âi can be casual and chill, itâs not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.âÂ
itâs so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could. Â
âiâll think about it,â you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. âbut you need to go home before shoko sees you.âÂ
but youâre dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what heâs told. âyouâre not getting rid of me that easily. come here.â
he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so youâre snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.
 âi canât.â you tell him (though youâre mostly reminding yourself.) this is insaneâ satoru, what are youââ
youâre cut off when he shushes you, whispering letâs sleep in for a little while longer.Â
he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you.Â
so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes ofâŠcuddling. shoko isnât a morning person anyways.
after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. itâs a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isnât the worst thing in the world.Â
(itâs purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)
a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips.Â
then, shoko knocks on your door.Â
âhey! donât tell me youâre too hungover for grocery shopping.âÂ
âshit!â you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. âshe cannot see you in here.âÂ
âafraid youâll have to share?â he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. âokay, okay! where do you want me?â
âcloset!â you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet.Â
he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. âarenât you glad weâre doing this?â
you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.
âhey,â you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.
âdid you bring someone home last night?â
âno.â
she looks at you. really looks at you, you think.Â
âokay,â she finally says, though you canât tell if she believes you. âi justâ i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.â
âgojo and i?â you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. ânever in a million years.â
shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leaveâŠ
âŠonly for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. âwell if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.âÂ
waitâ
âgojo?â
you hear a sharp inhale through the door.Â
âyeah,â she nods. âyou really couldn't tell?â
gojoâŠhas a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. âi had no idea.âÂ
âof course you didn't. heâs definitely got a really weird way of showing it.â
she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you.Â
you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shokoâs revelation, at this entire situation.
dating sucks, but maybe it wonât be that bad if itâs with him.
4K notes
·
View notes