#i tried to keep a lot of the details in this vague

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[quirkle2]

so what if . slime rancher au

[ri-afan]

If I didn’t get to keep my knowledge then I would likely have a different answer.

To maximise my friends now while minimising the rest, 6-10 would have to be it. Holding out to the next stage would run the risk of coming into middle school too late even if it turns out I fell back to being in first grade again. Though to think I would still move in with my mother for high school for the few friends I have from then even if I didn’t get to graduate with most of them… y’all are special.

Can’t tag L or E.R., obviously, but can tag @shortiethewolf so I will: I love you guys so much and I would say you’re worth it living there with her even if I haven’t spoken to E.R. since graduation and it’s been so sporadic with both you and L since I moved. (You never met her but I think y’all could’ve been acquaintances at the least.) Also, the experience with M and E.C. years 10&11? I was kinda the catalyst to get them what they wanted and I feel like I dropped the ball on the experiences we had. Definitely have to be there for that to happen because they’re still nice people ❤️‍🩹 It would free me from some of mom’s attention too, even if it’s a crappy way to think about it. I’d definitely be doing more to stay off her radar though.

—Listen, I spent the time I was writing the last paragraph thinking about it and I think I would know the perfect time and plan to get things to work out and I still wouldn’t have to take that damn trig class in high school.

I would move after 6th grade because while I love dad I don’t know about being where they were and I only would have one more year where we were. Probably would still get pulled out of public school for bigotry reasons for middle school though (which, half and half it wasn’t wholly a terrible experience even if it truly was full of not the …best things… I’d do my best to work with what I had between all that but it was a… learning experience for sure. Probably ask if I could join a Spanish class though because it woulda been useful at least), then I would land with shortie in art year 9 (oh! I would change the science classes though my god - AP over regular Earth Science, physics over chem 🙏🏼 no APUSH dear god no I love L but I couldn’t with that class again, but I would change how I took that English class year 11) and meet L in that shitty religion club year 10 (I can’t remember how we met outside of that so I guess I’ll have to go to it for him 🙄😜) and totally skip all of that bs with people making L and me awkward af. And shutdown his shit with N bc that just fed into no good things (god, you remember that? I thought it was weird then and still think it was odd a decade later). Would def still turn him into a WonderWoman fan though because I think that helped him overall 😁 That thing with that guy I never actually met in the end from that one place would not happen year 11, I don’t think I let on just how much of a creep he was but I’m saying no right now. Maybe I actually woulda acted on my thoughts with E.R. senior year though. 🤔 Every once in a while I ponder it when I catch that one photo of us.

Then fucking GAP YEAR before college omg. N and I would likely not happen though 🫤 (all well and good for how it ended but maybe I could have done something different there for communication and we actually get to be friends instead of whatever that bs was…) Still move out to here bc it’s cheaper and just not where I graduated in the end (bc fuck that place, sorry E.R. even though you can’t read this 😅 one year there would be Enough) but skip that first college altogether bc holy shit that was a pricy waste of time, then join the second school (maybe I coulda talked y’all into coming along but I’m doubting it hard you lizards 🦎😄) and get that damn degree I love but sadly don’t really use and work towards what I have at this college still because I still love it. Maybe I could use the first degree when I started the next phase of college at that town. Miss me with those living situations in 2019 though, that ain’t happening again.

Maybe I would fucked around and taken a few other classes that caught my eye too but didn’t consider at the time because sexism? Probably woulda helped.

Now, how would this actually change things? It sounds like I’m on the same path overall.

I’m glad you asked! Connections.

This public thought experiment is over though 😛 but I definitely am going to continue it on my own.

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[yesimwriting]

Midway

a/n a small-ish fic of someone comforting aegon bc i feel bad for him 😭

Summary: You did not choose to be Aegon's wife, and yet you seem to be the only one choosing to be there for him during his recovery.

Warnings/info: forced marriage turned to awkward, subtle pining masquerading as uneasy friendship, vague descriptions of life threatening injuries, canon compliant incest (reader is rhaenyra's daughter)

read part 2 here: A Matter of Timing

----

Hushed whispers, as stale and sterile as the fresh gauze being stretched and pulled taut against his skin. The rasp of his breathing scrapes at the air that manages to pull itself into your own lungs.

"It is..." Alicent stalls, her gaze never leaving her eldest son, "A lot, I know." Her eyes are wide, glossier than you've ever seen them. An odd sort of empathy presses itself against your chest, making a full breath feel like even more of a fantasy.

Your sympathies and courteously vague expressions of understanding and mutual hurt are things Alicent has no use for. She's tolerated you like an inherited dress that doesn't quite fit, only begrudgingly acknowledging you when surrounded by family.

These days, her barely there tolerance for you has grown even weaker, considering the reports your handmaid had delivered to you of Alicent's attempts to convince the council to lock you away after your mother's retaliation to Aegon's coronation. An imprisonment only prevented by Aegon's command.

She lets out a breath, her attention briefly dropping to the ground before settling on you. "But you are his wife."

A fact she's only come to accept because of your blood. As Rhaenyra's daughter, your marriage had been a compromise, a final attempt at merging a divided family before your grandsire's passing. If your mother had known how quickly Aegon's supporters would have pushed him towards the throne...

You nod your head slowly, dismissing thoughts of yourself. For the first time since your union, the context of your arrangement does not cloud all else. "Yes."

There had been no attempts made to gloss over the extent of Aegon's injuries. For once, the heart of the Red Keep prioritized reality over projecting strength and invulnerability. The maesters had warned you, had detailed the damages left behind by the flames and the fall. An attack strong enough to kill a dragon.

"I um...I tried to visit him earlier, when he first returned." The surprise of your own honesty is an afterthought, a barely there thing attempting to occupy the little space left in your mind. "They said he was not yet stable."

Alicent is silent, some distant quality hollowing her stare as she watches the maester. His movements are succinct, precise as he quietly instructs a maid to bring him a salve left on the table. How many times in these last few days has he gone through this process? How many more times will a maester need to dress Aegon's wounds and rebandage him?

"Stable seems relative." Alicent blinks, her attention returning to what's directly in front of her. She turns to face you. "I trust that you'll sit with him, keep him company after the maester is finished."

Aegon's thoughts on your company have shifted several times throughout the short time you've been married. He often goes through periods of indifference followed by fleeting displays of interest that feel eerily close to companionship. Not quite a friendship or a romance, but something warm and comfortable. Mutual glances shared over supper, peaceful moments in the hall, occasionally crawling into the other's beds at night like children that cannot find sleep on their own.

Some skeptical part of you wonders if Alicent's sudden interest in your wifely responsibilities has more to do with punishing you than caring for Aegon. You doubt she considers you some great source of comfort in her son's life. At least you don't mind the thought of staying here, away from prying eyes and whispers that your privileges within the Red Keep should be restricted until the realm is no longer so divided. "Of course."

She nods once. "There--there is much to be decided upon in Aegon's absence." Alicent lets out a rigid breath. Perhaps Alicent really does want to know that someone's with Aegon. "I should go."

"I will keep him company, your grace."

With that, Alicent spares Aegon a final glance before turning to leave. You remain near the entrance of Aegon's bedchambers, far enough away to not impact the maester and his work.

You watch the process openly. Aegon's burns and other injuries are meticulously cleaned, white cloth stained dark as it is dragged against his skin. Salves and balms are lathered onto his wounds, concoctions meant to promote healing and ward off infection. The final step of the process involves the freshly cleaned wound being rebandaged.

The maester works at an expert pace, treating Aegon's body in sections. Before you know it, he's stepping back to assess the results of his efforts. The maester then looks over at you.

You've never been in a position to be responsible over someone so injured. Are you meant to...dismiss him? Approve his work? Ask something? "Is he..." Well seems like a terrible overstatement. You force yourself to take a few steps forward. "How is he?"

He briefly presses his lips together. "Much more stable than he was previously, your grace. I am afraid that I cannot yet predict much about his recovery. As of now, the priority is preventing infection."

You allow your gaze to fall onto Aegon. There's something about the way he's lying there, immobile and broken and smaller than he should be. "Right. Well, thank you."

The maester nods, "It is my honor, your grace."

He begins to gather his supplies before leaving. At the maester's absence, the maid that had been assisting him turns towards you. "Is there anything you need, your grace?"

You briefly consider sending her out for water or asking her to bring you a book you left in your own apartments. A menial task would ensure her return, which would mean you'd have a temporary reprieve from being alone with Aegon like this. "No, I'm alright. You are free to go."

She nods at the dismissal, "Thank you, my queen."

Queen. The title that belongs to your mother in her own right, not as a position inherited towards marriage.

The girl leaves, her quiet footsteps nearly drowned out by Aegon's unsteady breathing. You watch her until she's disappeared through the doorway, and then for awhile longer. When you can no longer justify your silence, you step forward.

Standing so close to the foot of Aegon's bed tugs at something deep inside of you. He is so still, so without defense. Like this, he does not seem like a man desperate to cement his position, or the person you never wished to be bonded to in this way, or even the only one who you allowed to enter your apartments after news of your brother's death arrived at the Red Keep. Now, he only seems like a boy trapped midway between where he lies and death.

Though bandaged and burned, the entirety of Aegon's features have not been destroyed. The shape of his nose, the part of his lips still familiar. His hair had not been a priority, and while the maester did brush it back to work on him, the disheveled strands have fallen forward again.

You move away from his bed's edge with careful steps. Before you can overthink the act, your hand moves to his forehead. As gently as you can will yourself to, you unplaster the hair stuck to the oily salves on his forehead. Your fingers catch themselves on silvery knots. You begin to pick apart the largest tangles as best as you can without a comb.

It's not an easy task, sweat and product cementing the knots into place. "I'd hate it if no one brushed my hair." The words come out on instinct, the desire to justify your proximity the way you would if he was awake. In all honesty, you're not sure if he can hear you.

The process is slow and clumsy, nails separating strands for you to comb through. Up close like this, you can almost pretend that this is restful for him. He still doesn't look well, but from here you can focus on his shut eyes and parted lips. Your hand drifts away from his hairline, fingertips fluttering over bandages and brushing against unmarred skin.

Something awfully sentimental attempts to claw its way up your throat. "I'll go get a comb." You pull your arm away from him. "I'll--I'll be back, I promise."

You take a single step back before turning your back to him. The maester deemed him stable, which means that he will not spontaneously pass if left alone for a moment. You'll only leave to fetch a comb and maybe a book so that you have something to read aloud. He's never loved your novels, but it's the only way you can think to keep him com--

A soft sound, so gentle and brief you could almost convince yourself you imagined it if it wasn't for the distinctness of the word. Your name.

You stall. Perhaps you misheard something else, maybe a stuttering of his breathing or the room settling. You turn.

He remains unchanged--body in the same position it's been in this entire time and eyes still shut. The supposed whisper should be dismissible.

You step forward, voice fragile as you ask, "Aegon?"

For a moment, pressed between the audible strain between his breaths, a faint optimism pulses through you. Weeks of being a bride, a queen of the realm hated by all those around her, and your only form of protection has, ironically, been the man that's bound you to this place.

The hope fluttering in your stomach quickly morphs into something closer to dread. He is not awake. He is not well enough to call for you or any--a shift, a turn of his outstretched hand so small and inconsequential you likely would not have noticed if it was any less needed.

Ignoring the blurring edges of your vision, you move towards his bedside in quick strides. Without thinking, your hand finds his. "I know that this union is not one you entered willingly. I am also aware of the fact that you know I did not ask for this either." You've not often held Aegon's hand, but now you're glad for his tangibility. "But you--you have not been cruel. You've actually been surprisingly patient, even when I have given you reason not to be."

His palm is warm against yours, the familiarity of it strangely assuring. The few times you've laid together for the sake of duty, the heat of Aegon's skin had been one of the few aspects of the process that you were reluctantly drawn to.

"At times, you have been kind..." You blink in an attempt to dismiss the stinging behind your eyes. "Friendly, even." Your hold on him tightens. "And I miss that. I--I miss our friendship."

The grief in your chest is a hybrid thing, made up just as much out of your empathy and fear as it is by your hurt. It's a sensation so dizzying, you nearly pour your panic out to him. You have to bite your tongue to avoid asking him to not leave you alone here.

Tears are beginning to prick the corner of your eyes when you feel his fingers bend around yours. Aegon squeezes your hand with a barely recognizable force.

He's--he's awake. "Aegon?"

His hold on you does not falter as a faint sigh escapes his lips, a midway of his own.

- - - -

a/n not to offer a part 2 to everything i write but i have an idea for a second fic that’s connected to this so if ur interested lmk :)))

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Prophecy

Viktor x You When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more. Contents: fem!reader, fluff, angst and smut all in one folks, 18+ MDNI, a few physical features described but still reader insert I think (hair colour and freckles), both Viktor and you POVs, long-ass one shot 8.1k words Taglist: @night-fall-moon @zsuzsu321 @sh1zhu @circeinspace @casualjagodek @retrokatz @am-3-thyst @xlittlemissydjx @sseleniaa @thefandomsfervent Hi guys, thanks for bearing with my while I've been working on this one!! I have been absolutely obsessed with this man ever since I finished Arcane, so I just had to write something about him! I also think a lot of people mischaracterise him, so I tried really hard to get his personality right - let me know if I actually have lol. Anyone who knows my works knows how slutty my smut can get lol, but this is actually quite tender so a new one for me too. Anyway, I'll stop waffling now, I hope you enjoy. TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

DISCLAIMER: while this, in my opinion, is still classified as an ‘x you’ fic, a few physical features are described, namely ‘you’ having burgundy red hair that is, at one point, described as curly and having freckles, alongside a handful of super vague descriptors (eg. fluttering eyelashes, slope of her nose AKA things that can be applied to any and all faces) - basically everyone in the Arcane show has cool hair so I thought this would be a cute detail. It’s possible to ignore if you don’t want to think about have a different hair colour, but if you don’t want to, don’t read it! Almost every comment on this fic has been relating to this which, when I put hours of hard work and effort into something that I was proud of, is insanely demoralising. There has always been a disclaimer in the contents above, but I’m adding it here as well so it’s as clear as possible. Dead dove do not eat and all that. And I’m always open to constructive criticism, but there’s a way to go about it, and a way that will put someone in a slump for months, so please think before you comment! Anyway, not to put a downer before the work, thank you for the reposts and loves so far ❤️

Viktor was lost in thought as he made his way back to Piltover, small tube of Shimmer tucked away in his satchel. He didn’t know what to do. Using it might stabilise the Hexcore, allowing it to keep the plants alive and accomplish everything he and Jayce had been working towards for years, maybe even curing this sickness that had taken over him, or…

Or it could end horribly.

The undercity was as dark and unpleasant as he remembered it. He had never fit in here in his youth - too scrawny, too bookish, and with his leg, he stood no chance. And now was no different.

The neon store signs stood out against the blackened buildings and muddy streets. This part of the city, deep in the underbelly of Zaun, seemed busier than the rest, roads bustling with call girls and salesmen and tourists from Topside taking their pick of unruly establishments. Hundreds of voices layered atop each other in a cacophony of harsh laughter, garish music and argumentative tones. There was barely space to walk, especially with his cane, and he was starting to wonder if this journey was even worth it.

Then something caught his eye. A flash of red, deep and vibrant, moving towards him on the far side of the lane. It was hair, bouncy and curly and his subconscious told him it was shorter than it should’ve been, but it was a colour he knew. Her face wasn’t one he could place at first, but as she got closer, he saw the freckles that smattered across her nose like a constellation, her pink lips that were perpetually curled into a soft frown, her eyes that she always accentuated with brown liner. It was her.

The only friend of his youth. A young girl who used to sit behind the foliage near the water where he tested his inventions. She was shy, even shyer than he used to be, too scared to ask him anything about what he was making for a long time, just watching with curious eyes. But he would never forget the day she moved closer. The way her long, burgundy locks flowed around her, almost touching the floor, the way she was trying her best to be confident, but there was a soft shake in her hand, and a slight stutter as she said hello. Then she produced a small invention of her own - a submarine, the same colour as her hair, designed to float perfectly so the periscope was the only thing that peeked out from the surface.

For years, they were inseparable. She was more artistic than him, always adding a flair to her designs that he didn’t have, so he’d let her ‘improve’ his too. They would play together, and then as they got older, build together, each creation more daring and experimental. And then they started to drift apart. They were in their mid teens when her mother got sick, and she couldn’t make it out as much. Viktor always offered to help, but she refused, not even allowing him to see where she lived. And so, when Professor Heimerdinger found him and offered him an opportunity to be his assistant, he couldn’t even tell her. He left a note, delicately placed under a rock where they would build together, telling her where to find him and how to get in touch, but he never heard anything.

And now here she was. He called out her name softly, not wanting to alarm her in this hostile city, but she didn’t hear. She’d walked past him now, so he turned, following but she was walking fast, faster than he could manage. He called out again, but it wasn’t until then that he noticed the headphones over her ears. She couldn’t hear a thing. He carried on, hoping she would stop but she didn’t. If it was anyone else, he would’ve gone home, given up, but now he’d caught a glimpse of her, he had to see her. To talk to her. To find out why she never got in touch. To apologise for leaving her behind.

She disappeared from view for a moment, and he panicked, thinking he’d lost her again, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, entering an alley beside a row of bars and clubs. He grimaced, following her to see the red locks just moving out of sight again, and a bouncer closing the door behind her. He tried to follow her into the building, but the man stopped him.

“Please…” he asked, out of breath, “it’s an old friend, I need to see her…”

“Staff entrance only, pal. You’ll have to go ‘round the front like everyone else.”

“But… she’s right there… I only need one moment, if she just saw me…” The words died on his lips. Would she even recognise you?

“Don’t make me ask you twice.”

It was dark inside the club, the lights low apart from on the stage and around the bar. It was only mid afternoon, but the place was near full of lowlifes just starting their evenings, sloshing their drinks and talking loudly. The neon from outside carried into this space too, strip lights around the platforms accentuating their presence. There were dancers atop each of them, but he averted his eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. This was so far from his comfort zone, loud and unruly, a long way away from his lab, but he had to see her. He couldn’t let her go again.

He found a stool by the bar, ordering a soda and waiting for her to start her shift. There was no way he could miss her again if he was right here when she started.

And then he saw her at the very edge of his vision, as though his eyes were programmed to search her out in any crowd. She was on stage, cherry red hair glowing in the soft lights, combined with the neon from below making her look like a ghost, ethereal. What was she doing up there?

***

“Afternoon, Joey.” You muttered to the bouncer, and he opened the door for you wordlessly as you slipped off your headphones, replacing your perfectly selected playlist with the sleazy music of the club. Just one of the many reasons you hated working here. You were running late, as per, throwing your things in your locker and quickly changing. Lacing up your shoes always took the longest time, and you barely even had a chance to check yourself in the mirror when you were finished. Your hair looked perfect at least, the naturally burgundy curls sitting at shoulder length. You missed the long hair of your youth, but it become impractical very quickly, and the memories it held… you ended up cutting it all off soon after your mum died. That was when you started working here too. You’d had dreams, of course you did, but growing up in the Undercity made it almost impossible to follow them. There were worse places to work though - for the most part, the patrons were respectful, and everyone who you worked with was kind, but it was still a strip club. At the end of the day, no little girl wanted to be an exotic dancer when they grew up. At least it just about paid the bills.

You had been put on a long shift today - late afternoon until the early hours. You didn’t mind though; it was exhausting, but more time meant more tips. And you needed the money. You were saving, slowly but surely. One day, it would be enough.

These shifts always started slow. Not many tips this early in the day. Not enough drunks - they were all too willing to part with their money, an exploit you knew how to use. After a while on stage, it was your turn to make your way into the crowd. You started away from the bar, smiling at a few, a couple of words of flirtation thrown around, but no one was loose enough for anything else yet. There was something different about the energy today though. You felt… exposed, on display, more than usual. Self conscious in a way you hadn’t been since your first week. By the time you got to the bar, you were already feeling frustrated at the lack of interest. But your favourite coworker was pouring the drinks tonight, and she had one ready for you already.

“Thanks, Katie” You crooned, knocking back the shot quickly and she immediately offered to refill - something you gratefully accepted.

“Thought you might need it. Slow start?”

“Yeah, not the best day so far.” You took your second, thanking her again, when you heard a voice call out your name. Your real name. It made you start, whipping your head around to find the source. You didn’t use that name here. You were expecting to see an ex, or an old boss, but instead you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in years.

His eyes hadn’t changed. Kind but tired, amber in colour and glowing like whiskey in sunlight. The curve of his nose was the same, the curl of his lips, the small moles like points on a map - one beneath his right eye and the other to the left of his lip. There was a cane tucked beside his stool, and he was dressed well. Too well to be in this part of town. A uniform of some sort, something a Topsider would wear: blue shirt accented with a cream ascot and waistcoat. It suited him.

As soon as you saw him, every fond memory of your childhood rushed back to you like a river. The gentleness when he explained his creations to you. His willingness when you asked if you could paint them pretty colours, or add cute designs. The way he held you as you cried about your mum falling ill. How quickly he offered you support, and how quickly you turned him down. You didn’t want to be a burden, but you regretted that choice as soon as he stopped showing up to your usual spot. You kept going for months before you gave up, still trying to find him. The last time you visited was to scatter your mum’s ashes - your stories of Viktor’s designs and the beautiful creek where you tested them out together being one of the last things that brought her comfort.

And now, he was here.

He’d made it out. He’d made it Topside. And you’d only fallen further down.

If there was one person you never wanted to see you like this, it was him. He was the only slither of your youth and innocence left, the only soul in the whole of Runeterra who knew the true version of yourself, the first version of yourself. The version you actually liked. And now, he had to see this. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Every emotion was vying for attention: joy, nostalgia, anger, envy…

He repeated your name in a questioning tone, and you realised you’d been staring at him, the rollercoaster of emotions you just went on likely visible on your face.

“Do you know him, darling? Or shall I grab Joe?” Katie asked from behind the bar, staring him down with a protective look. Viktor opened his mouth to speak, indignant look on his face, but you answered for him, never once being able to tear your eyes from him.

“Yeah I… cover for me? If anyone asks, he got a dance.”

“Of course.” Viktor’s gaze had returned you, confused, and you just muttered a ‘come on’, signalling him to follow you, and you lead him across the floor to one of the private rooms. They weren’t exactly the nicest places to talk, the whole room painted a hideous deep purple, a weirdly-shaped black velvet sofa the only thing to sit on. As soon as you closed the door, turning around to see the soft look on his face, every drop of anger seeped from you, replaced with relief. Relief that he was alive. Relief that he had done something with his life. Relief that you hadn’t lost him forever.

You couldn’t help it but let the tears fall as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tight.

***

He was surprised by her warm welcome. After all these years, he had always imagined she would resent him, but here she was, face pressed to his chest as she hugged him, tears falling onto his shirt. He didn’t even have to think about it, one arm naturally surrounding her as she cried, keeping her close, while the other held firm to his cane, ensuring it was stable for the both of them. He never wanted to let her go again.

She eventually pulled away though, wiping her tears with the shy smile he remembered so well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.. on your fancy Topside shirt too.” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I… um, I imagined bumping into you one day, finding you again, but I never thought I would be dressed like this.” He finally let himself glance down at her when he said that, to take her in completely, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She looked beautiful - a black two-peice set, solid silk on the areas that counted, but the frills and accents were a sheer lace, stockings too, glittering beads woven into the delicate material. Even if the environment didn’t suit her, somehow the clothes still did, the same style he’d seen her develop in her teenage years. Simple in colour, beautiful in design - the cunning of her inventor’s mind applied to her other passion.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” She sat down on the awkward sofa, curling her legs up onto it, and he followed suit, resting his cane against the arm.

“I could ask you the same thing.” It fell from his lips before he could stop it, and he winced, expecting her to be offended, but she just smiled sadly.

“You got out.” She stated as a shrouded question, ignoring his quip, and he nodded. He could explain, he should, but not yet.

“And you never wrote me.” He responded.

“Write you? Viktor, I didn’t know where you were.” She never got your letter.

“I left you a note by the creek. You never got it?” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve found you somehow, or…”

“It’s ok, Vik.” She shuffled closer on the loveseat, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. Hearing the name she used to call him sent a pang of pain to his heart. This is what he had been missing out on all these years, all because of a stupid letter. “If I was in your shoes, I’d have done the same. Besides, I never let you see where I lived, or anything else about me. And when mum… I fell off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t have let you in no matter how hard you tried.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know.”

***

You spent a long time asking about his life now. He was working in the academy, partners with Piltover’s favourite researcher, helping to create the HexTech that kept the whole city afloat… he had changed the fucking world. And you were… here. Still.

He said your name softly, as though trying to broach a subject carefully and you knew what was coming. You had seen the query floating in his eyes since the moment he saw you.

“What are you doing working here? I mean, you’re brilliant, more so than me, and yet…”

“I’m still stuck in the Lanes?” You sighed.

“Well, yes.” You’d never once thought of him as ignorant. Maybe he’d been living Topside for too long.

“I never got my break. You deserved what you got, of course you did, and you’re the smartest person I know, Viktor, but that doesn’t change the fact that you got lucky. And it’s not the same here as when we were kids. Sure, things weren’t great then, but now… There are no jobs, no money, housing is insanely competitive even though most of it is disgusting.. it’s a vicious cycle meant to keep you in the shitter. This is what I could get. It pays my bills and lets me save a little, the other girls are nice, it’s close to my apartment…”

“But…” You knew from the look on his face what he was going to say - a long speech about how much potential you have, and how much better you could have it. You dropped his hand.

“But what?” You couldn’t help but snap, defensive over the very job that you cursed daily. “But I’m better than selling myself to sleazy drunks? You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I want to be losing my sense of self every day just so I can keep the lights on? You think it’s my dream to feel like I’m a lesser human being because I will let someone pay me to take them into this room and…” You stood up then, starting to pace as silent tears fell. You never let yourself think about any part of your life longer than you had to. Not pondering on it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“You know I wasn’t saying that…”

“I know I’m sorry… I just…”

“I know… I know…” He stood up then too, wrapping you in his arms and letting you cry. Again. You felt so stupid. “I missed you.” He whispered, face nestled into your hair, barely audible.

“I missed you too.” The tender moment didn’t last for long though, as a sharp knock on the door startled you, jumping away from him and wiping your eyes.

“Vikki?” Joey’s voice called out, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You ok in there?” You put on your smiley voice, cooing back to him.

“Yeah, all good Joe, got a paying customer in here...”

“You got it, doll.” You heard him walk away, and turned back to see Viktor looking at you, head cocked, small smirk playing across his features.

“What?” You asked with a shy smile, wiping away the last of your tears.

“Vikki?” Oh.

“Well I couldn’t exactly use my real name.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but giggle too. “That does mean we’ve been in here too long though, I should…”

“Yeah, no of course…” he moved to open the door, grabbing his cane, but you stopped him quickly, pressing your hand against the door frame.

“One second…” He frowned as you reached towards him, but he didn’t move, just watched curiously as you took your time unknotting his ascot. Once it was off, you unbuttoned a few of his buttons, trying to ruffle his shirt a little, make it look like you had actually been doing your job rather than talking to an old friend. “There…” you muttered quietly, realising he’d shuffled a little closer to you as you worked, and now his lips were only a breath away. He was looking at you so intently, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he never spoke, just gazed at you in a way that made your heart swell. Your hands lingered on his chest, comforted by the warmth and solidness of him. A reassurance that he was real and here. You didn’t want to move.

“Please, don’t go anywhere just yet…” you muttered, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

She had been backstage for a while now, muttering something about trying to move her shifts around. She came back beaming, and it was infectious, a smile he was trying to fight taking over his own face just at the sight of her.

“Ok, if you’re busy tonight, or you have plans, you can tell me to piss off…”

“Never.” She blushed in response, her wide smile spreading further as she spoke, and he was helplessly drawn to her, eyes scanning her face intently.

“Well, someone came in early for their shift, but someone else is running late… anyway, our schedule is a mess, but good news is I only have to stay for another hour and then I’m free so… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab some food and catch up? Unless you have somewhere else to be…” She still sounded so shy, so unsure - the same habit she had when she was young, babbling when she was nervous. He was finding it hard to connect the dots in his mind: the timid person before him now, the girl he used to know, and the dancer on that stage, full of bravado and confidence.

“That sounds wonderful.” The joy in her face was intoxicating, and he watched as relief visibly washed over her body.

“Ok, brilliant.” She spun away for just a moment, trying to track down the bartender she seemed to know well. “Katie, he’s with me, ok? Send him back in like an hour, and his drinks are on my tab.” He tried to protest, but she rested a hand on his shoulder, quickly silencing him. “I insist. It’s the least I can do, considering how long you have to wait around.” Again, he tried to tell her didn’t mind, that he’d wait as long as she needed, anything for her, but she was gone already, slipping into the crowd, his shoulder cold where her hand had been. He sighed, turning back towards the bar on his stool, taking another sip of his soda.

“That’s our Vikki…” Katie mused, slicing a few garnishes behind the bar. “Never accepting that somebody else would want to do something for her.” He let out a dry laugh, half at the name, half in agreement.

“That sounds like her.” A beat of silence passed between them. The club was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t too rowdy yet, and nobody else was at the bar, all relying on bottle service and shot girls instead.

“Drink?” He shook his head politely. “How do you know her?” Katie asked, staying busy but obviously trying to snoop. He didn’t mind. She was a topic he didn’t mind talking about.

“Childhood friend. I haven’t seen her in… a very long time.” Her eyebrow shot up at that.

“What was your name, by the way?”

“Viktor.” A look of surprise flitted across her face.

“Ohh.” She drawled knowingly, smiling at herself as she continued to wedge limes.

“What?”

“I’ve heard of you, that’s all. Her childhood love who disappeared on her while her mother was dying…”

“You don’t know the whole story…” He snapped back quickly. He might hate himself for what happened, but he felt the need to defend his choices. It had turned out well for him, he just wished he could’ve found her. Taken her with him. Their life could’ve been so different. Katie chuckled, continuing her tasks.

“Oh trust me, I do. She’s very quick to defend you, you know. You can do no wrong in her eyes…”

“Not so sure about that…” As he muttered to himself, something she’d said suddenly hit him. Her childhood love…“Actually, on second thought, I will grab a drink please, whatever she usually has. But don’t put it on her tab…”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Topsider.” She saluted mockingly with a smile.

Two down and that was all he was having, just needing something to take the edge off after Katie’s admission. All those years wasted, because you thought childhood love was stupid and pointless. And now, seeing her again, you still love her as much as you did back then…

Katie was on her break, so he twisted in his seat, trying to find her in the crowd. She had never been difficult for him to spot, everything about her so familiar to him, and this time, she was centre stage, which made it even easier. Every part of him was screaming to turn away, to not taint his view of her, but he was instantly transfixed. She danced so fluidly, so gracefully. Every movement she made was purposeful and poised. However much she hated her job, she took pride in it. He was a scientist, sure, but she was a creator, through and through.

***

You were finally finished, and you were exhausted. Even though it wasn’t even half a usual shift, seeing Viktor, all the memories it brought back, it had been so emotionally draining.

You were grateful that the changing area was empty. It wasn’t the usual shift time, and no one ever came here on their break, so at least Viktor wouldn’t have to deal with that. You almost laughed at the thought.

There was a gentle knock, and his voice sent a flutter straight to your heart.

“Vikki?” He called out mockingly, and you laughed at the way he’d latched on to your new name. It was inspired by him, after all. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in.” You were looking good, if you said so yourself. The fashion and the opportunity you were afforded to express yourself in that way was one of the few things you did like about this place. You’d tried to incorporate the shapes and designs of your ‘work attire’ into a more Lanes-friendly outfit, layering a black organza shirt over the lacy bodice, beading shining through the sheer fabric, pairing it with a bubble skirt and knee high boots, just the right height to allow your stockings to peek from the top. There was only one item that wasn’t black; his neckerchief that you had taken earlier was now around your own collar, tied in a dainty bow. He grinned as soon as he laid his eyes on it, striding towards you and gently holding the hemmed edge between his fingers.

“I guess I’m not getting this back, huh.”

“Never.” He shrugged.

“I’m ok with that.” God, the way he looked at you. It made you melt without fail, warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” You muttered, eyes still glued to his, honey tones making you feel as though you were stuck in them. A fly trapped in amber, resigned to its fate.

“I’m ready when you are.”

You’d decided you were going to cook for him tonight instead of taking him out. The places near you either weren’t nice enough, or they knew you for the wrong reasons. Besides, you wanted to show him your place. To show him that, even though you were still here, you had done everything you could to make the best of it, to continue learning and inventing and developing yourself.

That did mean you had to stop by the store, though. Which meant bumping into Angel. He and Viktor would not get on.

You had grabbed Viktor’s arm as soon as you left the club, a habit from the times Joey had walked you home, knowing that you were safer beside a man than by yourself. Even though the Undercity was bustling tonight, there was something so soothing about being here with him. A nostalgia warming you from the inside out. He let you guide him into the shop below your apartment, chatting absentmindedly about nothing and everything, when a smooth voice stopped yoou in your tracks.

“Not so fast, Vikki…” You groaned, turning back the few steps you had made into the entrance.

“Hey Angel.” You cooed, although it felt wrong falling into your usual flirtatious routine when Viktor was right behind you. He was working behind the counter today, thumbing through the till. His long dreadlocks were down, grey peeking through his beard, wide grin as his eyes traced over you, following your arm to where it joined the man next to you.

“Is that a nickname, or…” Viktor muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you responded.

“No, Vik, this is my landlord Angel…”

“Landlord, huh? Thought I was more than that, sugar…” He leaned across the counter, shit-eating smile on his face, clearing noticing and enjoying the fact he was winding up your new companion. Viktor scowled, moving a step closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, old man…” You sent him a wink, and he laughed, the booming noise of it always making you smile. “What have you got in that’s fresh? I’m actually cooking tonight…”

You chatted a little longer, grabbing what Angel recommended and some wine, before heading upstairs via the back of the shop. Viktor was still scowling slightly as you were unlocking your door, and you laughed lightly, nudging him with the bag of shopping.

“What?” He huffed.

“I don’t like that guy.” He grumbled, feeling smug that you had called it.

“He’s my landlord, Vik, and a friend. He’s a good guy, don’t worry.” He just shrugged as you finally got the door open, and you thanked the stars that you had remembered to tidy last night, or else it would be a complete tip. There were still remnants from your busy morning scattered all around the studio: scrap pieces of fabric and thread strewn across the kitchen table, the half-finished neglige you were constructing laid over the back of one of the chairs, the cogs and pieces of machinery lie abandoned next to your sewing machine in the wake of the modifications you were trying to make so it could handle more delicate material. The space itself was dark in colour, olive and navy washing the walls, brown leather sofa and black countertops marking their territory in the small apartment, the stain-glass screen in front of your bed the only splash of jewel toned colour. You could feel Viktor’s curiosity at the place, and as he stepped further into it, a smile settled onto his lips.

“It’s so very… you.” He said, and in any other intonation, it would’ve sounded like a bad thing, but when he said it, full of adoration.. it was a compliment of the highest order.

***

She was mesmerising as she cooked, twirling in the kitchen to her carefully selected vinyl, a wide smile on her face as she tested what she was making. He wanted to help but she wouldn’t let him, batting him away and telling him to sit down, and for now, he had obliged. But, as much as he wanted to help her always, right now, he just wanted to be close.

“At least let me pour the wine?” He said, already standing to help, and she huffed, but didn't object. Instead, she handed him the corkscrew and the bottle wordlessly. He smiled, leaning against the counter and continuing to watch her as she stirred. She was always so chaotic when she was creating, something evidenced by the near bomb-site on her kitchen table. It was just so… her. Everything about her apartment was as well, such a perfect and beautiful representation of everything she was, every tiny detail of her life and personality reflected in the space she lived in. The colours, the soft furnishings, the bookshelves lining the wall behind her bed. Then, he noticed something about the stain glass screen that separated the room, soft light from her bedside lamp washing through it and creating a blue ripple across the floor like a stream. It was of their place, their creek. It was abstract, sure, but he would recognise it anywhere. The way certain rocks jutted out, the colours of it all, the small boat floating in the still glass water.

“Did you make that?” He asked earnestly, and she briefly glanced up from the stove to see what he was looking at.

“Yeah, I've been trying out a lot of different hobbies actually, things to keep me busy when I’m not working. That was one of my favourites…”

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled sadly, focusing her attention back to the pan.

“It reminds me of you.”

He poured them both a glass, and she gratefully accepted.

“It’s nearly finished, just a few more… oh I meant to ask earlier…” Her mind was such a beautiful thing, the speed at which it moved so captivating, not even time to finish her own thought before starting another, “why were you even here today? In the Undercity, in my club… I just never thought I’d see you back here by choice.”

“I was visiting an old friend, a quandary about a new gadget Jayce and I are working on, but…” He was going to say something about it, ask her opinion on whether he should follow Doctor Reveck’s advice, what he should do next, but he decided against it. “He didn’t have any insights.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“No, I…” She looked hurt at the speed the word left his mouth, almost recoiling and turning back to her cooking with a frown. “I mean that you probably could, but I don’t want to taint tonight by talking about a project that has been frustrating me for weeks. Another time though, of course I would appreciate your insight.” She sighed in relief, smile flitting back across her face. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, humming as she did, a flurry of breathtaking movement as she dipped it into the sauce, spinning back around and holding it up to him.

“Taste?” She asked, the look on her face so hopeful it melted him, her joy infectious. But underneath all of it, he couldn't help but notice the cracks: the bags under her eyes, the tiredness set into them, the subtle shake of her hand. But he just smiled, enveloping her hand in his and bringing the spoon to his lips.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” She looked proud nonetheless, spinning back away from him and he was left to watch again, heart swelling. He wanted this. Cooking with her, drinking wine in the kitchen to her favourite record, letting her order him around. He wanted the… intimacy of it. The domesticity. The realisation of it ached. You could’ve had this. All these years without her, all these years wasted. Precious time that you no longer have to spare. If you’d have just waited, just taken more time to find her, insisted on helping her even…

“It’s ready!” She exclaimed, presenting a plate with a wide grin, and every stress, every regret simultaneously melted away and intensified, a pit forming in his stomach.

“It looks wonderful.”

***

You had eaten, and you were both now on your second glass of wine. You felt closer to him with every single second, drawn to every word he said like moth to a flame. At some point in the evening, you’d moved to the floor, backs to the sofa, as you looked through some of your old sketches you had found. The conversation lulled momentarily, a faraway look in his eyes, and you realised how close you had gotten. Your elbow was leaning on the sofa, supporting your head with your body twisted to face him, knee pressing against his thigh. You moved your head forwards to glance at the sketchbook, and your hand fell, resting on his shoulder. A stillness fell over him at the touch, and he smiled sadly to himself.

“I think you should come back with me.” He stated with finality, and you froze.

“What do you…”

“I think you should come back to Piltover.” He closed the book, placing it gently on the low coffee table. He was serious. “Help Jayce and I with our projects. Let me teach you about HexTech.”

“Vik, I don’t exactly have any actual experience. I don’t have an education. I can’t afford to live Topside…”

“You can live with me.” He said it so simply, like it was so obvious. Of course you would love that. Now you’d seen him again, you didn’t want to be apart from him but… “Professor Heimerdinger can give you lessons, but you have the mind already. There are certain things that can’t be taught. You have the passion, the skill, the creativity…”

“But…” You weren’t trying to pick apart his plan, but it felt terrifying. Even though it was everything you had ever wanted, it felt so far fetched. Like a fever dream. It didn’t feel like your life, your future.

“No, I… I lost you once, I can’t do it again.”

“Vik…” He grabbed your hand that was resting by his shoulder, and you felt yourself relax into his touch. He turned head to meet your eyes, sadness creeping into them.

“I don’t have much time left.” The finality of his statement shocked you, and you couldn’t tell what he was talking about. Did he have somewhere else to be? Oh god, you’d already kept him here too long…

“What do you mean, time left?”

“I’m dying.” It felt like somebody had punched you in the gut, all the air in your lungs gone.

“You’re…”

“Dying.” He repeated factually, and your heart sank further into your stomach. “And if we don’t… Jayce and I are working on something that might help, but if it doesn’t, I need someone I trust to take over from me.”

“Viktor, hold on, I need to think…” Your mind was racing, and you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around everything, hands running through your hair. He was dying. He wanted you to move Topside. He wanted you to work with him. To take over his life’s work. “It’s been years. I haven’t seen you in years and now you want me to… now you trust me to…”

“Of course.” He muttered, speaking your name softly to get your attention, hand gently wiping your face where tears had fallen without you noticing. “You’re everything to me, you always have been. There’s nothing I wouldn’t trust you with.” His hand was still resting on your face, and as you searched his eyes, you saw something else. Something pleading, something that echoed the feeling bouncing around in your heart. It would be hard. It would take a long time to settle in, to learn the ropes, to feel like you belonged. But it was your dream. To help change the world. And if he didn't have long, there was no chance you were wasting any of your time left with him.

“Ok.” You answered nodding, and you watched a smile take over his face, heart swelling at the sight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Vik, you’re offering me my dreams on a silver platter, and on top of it all, I get to be…” You nearly slipped, about to say be with you but you knew that was a lot. That you had only just reunited and to spring the whole I’ve loved you since I was 10 and I’ve never loved a soul since thing on him might ruin the dream that he’s just given you. But, fuck, you wanted to kiss him right now. “I get to work with you again.. there would have to be one hell of a catch for me to say no to that.”

“The whole dying thing isn’t too much of a problem then?” He asked with a slight smile, trying to hide a genuine fear beneath a joke.

“Oh, honey, knowing that we don’t have another decade of time to lose… I’m not letting you slip through my fingers this time.” His hand felt so natural resting against your cheek you’d forgotten it was there until it moved to cup the base of your neck, thumb drawing gentle lines across your jaw. His amber eyes were searching your features, looking for anything to indicate that you were unsure, but your resolve shone through, and you could see the moment he realised this was going to work, relief flooding through them.

Then, before you could process what was happening, his hand gently guided you forward until your lips brushed against his—light as a feather. For a moment, you couldn't believe he had just kissed you, that it was real. But as you met those pleading honey eyes, everything else faded away. Every doubt, every regret, every sliver of worry vanished, replaced by such overwhelming care and love that you felt you might burst. Your body gave in without conscious thought, melting into his arms as you kissed him. His hands drifted to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. You couldn't get close enough, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His fingers traced down your body until they reached your hips, pulling you over him. A soft giggle escaped into his mouth as you swung your leg over his, settling onto his lap. When he finally broke for breath, you found yourself chasing his lips, panting into the space between you with a wide smile.

His lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, steadying yourself as his grip on your hips tightened. The feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his mouth. He smiled against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face while the other remained firmly at your waist.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against your mouth, voice rough with emotion. You could only nod in response, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being in his arms after all these years.

The record had long since stopped playing, leaving only the sound of your shared breaths and racing hearts in the quiet apartment. His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, full of warmth and something deeper, something that had been there all along. Something that you had been too blinded by insecurity to notice earlier. Something that you knew all too well, reflected in your own heart. You pressed your lips to the mole on his cheek, and the one beside his mouth, a small smirk playing across his features as you did.

“I still can’t quite believe this is happening.” You muttered softly against his cheek, and he sighed, thumb dancing across your lips.

You eventually found yourselves entwined on your bed, limbs tangled in soft cotton sheets, his back pressed firmly against your sturdy wooden headboard as you rocked into him with gentle, deliberate movements. Each subtle shift of your hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your breath catch. You panted softly into his mouth as his strong, careful hands helped guide your every motion, his touch both grounding and electrifying. The overwhelming need to be closer drove you to pull him tighter against you, your arms wrapping securely around his shoulders until there wasn't even a whisper of space between your bodies. Your chest pressed firmly to his, feeling his rapid heartbeat matching yours, as your head naturally found its place in the crook of his neck. You pressed feather-light kisses against the sensitive skin, tasting the salt and breathing in his familiar scent. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming - so intense, so raw, so perfectly natural - and you found yourself climbing toward your peak faster than you ever had before, your body responding to his every touch as if it had been waiting for this moment forever. You whined softly into his skin as pleasure built within you, each movement bliss, and he responded with a groan as he pressed his lips tenderly to your temple.

"That feels so good, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice coarse with desire, and your hips instinctively bucked harder against him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you. His meticulous fingers traced teasing patterns across your hipbones before finding their way between your bodies, circling your sensitive clit with perfectly measured pressure that made your toes curl. His other hand gently cupped your chin, drawing you back until your eyes met his, gilded with desire but still so full of tenderness. His lips ghosted across yours before he pressed his forehead to your own, releasing your face and returning his hand to your hip, guiding you once more. You could feel yourself fluttering around him as your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, and his eyes rolled back, a broken groan escaping his lips and filling the charged space between you. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter as you approached your climax, desperately seeking more of him, claiming his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that swallowed the stream of desperate moans spilling from both your lips. When your release finally crashed over you, it was like nothing you'd ever experienced - all the pressure, all the built-up desperation exploded like a supernova and pure, white-hot ecstasy consumed every nerve ending, every thought, every sensation except the feeling of him inside you and against you. He followed shortly after, gasping your name like a prayer against your skin as his own pleasure overtook him, his lips finding purchase on your neck as he shuddered through his release. In that moment, it was perfection, hearing him, feeling him, everything you had ever dreamed of and more. But as you came down from your shared bliss, you couldn't quite silence the intruding thought lurking at the edges of your consciousness - that you wouldn’t have him for long.

***

She looked so peaceful curled against him, her head nestled perfectly in the crook of his chest as if she belonged there, her beautiful red hair fanning out like a fiery halo in the dim light. Her beauty was staggering - the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate arch of her brows, the soft curve of her lips - and he couldn't help but trace each feature with his fingertips, mapping the geography of her face with tender precision. She sighed contentedly in her sleep at his touch, unconsciously pressing closer to him, one hand curling loosely in the fabric of his sheets that lay across them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this complete, this profoundly at peace, as if all the jagged pieces of his life had suddenly aligned. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, committing every detail to memory - the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the subtle flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips curved slightly downwards even in sleep. He wanted to capture this moment, to carry it with him always like a talisman, a protection. A reminder that he would do anything to preserve her peace of mind. To make her happy.

The soft amber from the bedside lamp caught in her hair and painted her skin in warm honey tones, making her look almost otherworldly in her beauty, an ethereal being who had chosen, inexplicably, to be with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a feather-light kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, before letting his own eyes drift closed. Despite everything - the illness creeping through his veins, the uncertainty that clouded their future like a torrential storm on the horizon - right now, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 1/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [will be added over the course of the series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: hi friends !! wow, been a hot min since i wrote something of this caliber. feels good to be back in biz ;D did you all miss persephone! suguru? because there's a LOT of him here >_< i really wanted to publish this as a oneshot but....tumblr hates me so now it's gonna be a chaptered series! oh , joy! ps @nappingmoon i got u bae, this one is for you.

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

you never really set out to be the face of smut-lit. 

in fact, you weren’t even really a face at all — just a “faceless” author penning scandalous stories for fans who devoured them, and haters who, well… tried to eat you alive.

you’d started out innocently enough, scribbling down your little fantasies and tropes that no self-respecting romance book would touch. then one day, a friend dared you to post one on booktok. 

you thought, "fuck it" and uploaded a snippet of your latest brainchild: a steamy billionaire x star-crossed chef fic called hunger games: not that kind of hungerer. it was, admittedly, extra spicy. 

and oh, did the internet have thoughts.

soon, your comments section and dm’s became a battleground for all opinions on “what qualifies as literature.” gems included:

who even writes this crap? did a middle schooler steal her mom’s laptop? i can feel my brain cells self-destructing as i read this 💀 girl hasn’t even been within a mile radius of a dick and it SHOWS

you'd had to admit… the last comment was right. but hey, they only added to the fuel. 

like moths to a flame, they kept coming back, and the trolling just made your followers skyrocket. a lot of people secretly liked the outrageousness, the drama, and the absolute audacity of it all. before long, your books were trending, and you were raking in numbers (and dollars) most “serious” authors could only dream of.

soon, you found yourself the subject of headlines you never thought you’d see:

the faceless queen of spice: how one unknown author is reshaping romance. trolled online, loved in secret—author sells millions in ebook downloads. social media says she has no idea what she’s talking about, but her bank account says otherwise.

and the kicker?

you’d never had sex with anyone, let alone…well, rocked worlds like your characters. 

here you were, a smut writer with zero real-life experience, who’d single-handedly created booktok’s, bookstagram and hell, even the people down at twitter's guilty pleasure.

but the day big publishers started knocking on your door, it was surreal, to say the least. 

you’d been fully prepared for the anonymous online fame — hell, you’d leaned into it, posting “faceless author life” videos and doing question and answer sessions where you dropped zero identifying details, save for some vague hand gestures and blurred-out backgrounds. but now, major publishing houses wanted in on the action.

“we think your stories have broad market appeal,” one exec had said on a zoom call, trying to make “billionaire mafia love quadrangle” sound dignified. “if we could get them on shelves, we’d reach an audience beyond booktok. international appeal is the goal here!”

suddenly, your filthy, albeit occasionally cringey, tales were going global. they got translated into french (where your enemies-to-lovers series got a fancy new title: l’amour et la haine). your spicy chef saga was reborn in italian as sapore di te, which roughly translated to taste of you (and made you blush, honestly). 

and when your personal favorite, the billionaire’s forbidden touch, hit the japanese market, they titled it 禁断の夜 (which… you didn’t even want to know the translation of, because you knew it was even worse than the original).

you had to admit, though, seeing these books spread worldwide made your head spin. what started as a joke online was now somehow sitting next to classics in international bookstores, becoming a hot commodity for fans everywhere.

but the cherry on top? 

oh, that came when you opened an email from none other than gojo-sonic, the world-renowned audio company best known for its highly specialized audiobook recordings. they’d taken smut literature to the next level, hiring voice actors who sounded like they were in the room with you, all breathy whispers and seductive baritones. people had raved that these audiobooks were “too real” — like they’d been recorded in a closed room with dim lights and a whole lot of… commitment.

they offered you a multi-million dollar deal to turn your books into experiences.

one of your friends, absolutely losing it, texted you as soon as they heard the news:

homegirl [5:21 pm]: “OMG OMG so you’re gonna do it right?? u realize this means ppl will be hearing ur lil virgin brain’s fantasies out loud in their headphones right” you [5:21 pm]: “no kidding. i’m freaking out. this feels illegal.” homegirl [5:22 pm]: “but u gotta!! pls this is ICONIC.” you [5:24 pm]: “they’re giving me millions. you think i’m saying no? lmao.”

it still felt surreal that soon, the whole world would hear your books come to life with professional voice actors — ones who knew exactly how to tease and breathe and make listeners feel like they were right there.

“bring my fantasies to life, huh?” you muttered to yourself, flipping through the contract that would secure your financial future, all because of your fictional men and their, uh, moves. 

who the hell were you to say no to that?

it was surreal enough to get an email from gojo-sonic, but now, sitting across from the ceo himself, gojo satoru, you were starting to wonder if this whole experience was some fever dream.

the man was stunning in an obnoxious, immaculate way. snowy hair, piercing blue eyes, and sunglasses balanced on his head like a headband. and, okay, you had to admit: it was a little weird that he’d named his company after himself — though, frankly, it just fit.

you tried not to laugh when he introduced himself. gojo satoru, ceo of gojo-sonic. the narcissism was off the charts, but so was his charm. as a quick google search before the meeting had revealed, gojo sonic had an impeccable reputation, and there was apparently not a single scandal tied to its name.

“nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand and trying to keep your cool. “kinda surprised a guy is running a… company like this. no offense.”

“none taken!” he replied, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. “if i’m honest, i’m probably the last guy anyone would expect here. but,” he shrugged, “it works. my employees say i’m a ‘girl’s girl,’ whatever that means.”

the way he said it so nonchalantly made you smirk. apparently, the term wasn’t a throwaway nickname, either; the gojo-sonic gossip mill painted him as the absolute dream boss. rumor had it he’d given his whole office a free day off because his assistant had been dumped, and when a writer complained about unisex bathrooms making her uncomfortable, he’d personally had a “feminine touch” added to every single stall, complete with pink hand soap and luxurious lotions. he was kind, considerate, a man who just got it.

“people say i’m probably gay,” he added, laughing as if that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “and you know what? let ‘em think what they want.” he gave you a wink. “as long as they keep buying the goods, i couldn’t care less.”

honestly? the guy made a point. did it matter who he was taking home at the end of the day? not at all, as long as your bank account kept racking up zeros.

“speaking of,” he continued, “we’ve got the full studio ready for tomorrow. you’ll meet the voice actors, go over a few sections, and give input as needed. think of it like a live theater production, except it’s your book.”

“oh, i get to… watch them record?” you asked, wondering how mortifying it might be to sit there, watching actors give their all to lines like, “you’re mine tonight, darling.” 

yeah, you’d written it, but watching someone breathe life into it was a different level of… embarrassment.

“even better,” gojo grinned, looking far too amused by your nervousness, “you’ll get to guide them. they’ll take direction from you — however you want the line delivered, that’s how they’ll say it.”

“you mean i can… like… make suggestions? on delivery?”

“exactly!” he said with a small clap. “we want it to be perfect. i’ve already arranged for our top voice actor, toji fushiguro, to voice your main character.”

toji fushiguro?

if gojo-sonic was the industry’s top company, toji was the crown jewel of voice acting. the guy was a legend. 

he had that smoky, velvet tone that could turn a mundane grocery list into a full-on romance scene. he was also notoriously elusive; some people waited months to get him to even consider their projects. and you — the virgin author who’d stumbled into fame thanks to trolls and booktok — had him voicing your main character?

“wait, toji fushiguro is doing this?” you asked, jaw practically on the floor.

gojo chuckled, looking far too pleased with your reaction. “yep! i think you two are going to work great together. he’s intense but flexible; really good at taking feedback.”

you tried to imagine giving feedback to toji fushiguro of all people. 

“um, maybe say ‘you’re mine’ with more… conviction?” 

“can you sound a bit more possessive on that line?”

“i, uh…” you managed, trying to swallow your nerves. “okay. yeah. sounds… good.”

“great! i think you’ll be amazed. toji’s professionalism is unmatched, and he’ll bring exactly the level of…” Gojo paused, grinning, “intensity you need to really make your character come to life.”

“good luck tomorrow! i’ll make sure everything’s set up perfectly,” gojo had assured you with a big grin as you left the office. “don’t stress about a thing. our identities are always kept top secret here. toji’s included! he’s never done a face reveal, and your privacy is just as ironclad.”

oh god. tomorrow, you were really going to sit there while toji fushiguro acted out lines you’d written on a whim in your pajamas.

sure, not stressing sounded like a logical plan. but after that surreal conversation — and the realization that tomorrow morning, you’d be face-to-face with the one and only toji fushiguro, hearing him breathe life into your raunchiest fantasies — you did what any responsible, mature adult would do.

you headed straight to the nearest bar and got sloshed.

by the time you were three cocktails deep, the reality of tomorrow’s “firsts” hit you like a ton of bricks. first real direction on an audiobook, first time meeting a voice actor, first time dealing with your own steaminess out loud, and — oh god — the cherry on top, it was toji fushiguro himself.

sure, you thought, sipping from your fourth drink and trying not to scream as lana del rey sings “it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you,” i might be slightly freaking out.

another cocktail slid your way. you squinted, unsure if you'd ordered it or if the bartender was just reading your general mood, because yeah, you did look like someone who needed another round.

“tough night?”

“tough tomorrow.” you swirled your drink, laughing to yourself. “i mean… you ever written a, uh, totally inappropriate novel and had to watch a famous guy turn it into audio?”

“…can’t say that i have.”

you shrugged, downing a bit more of the drink, when the song on the speakers switched to avril lavigne’s complicated. fitting, given that your life had just become exactly that.

“why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?” avril sang, like she knew.

the bartender, apparently used to the types who showed up for existential crises alone, leaned against the counter. “sounds like big stuff tomorrow, then. what kind of work do you do, anyway?”

“oh, just… smutty novels,” you said, letting it slip before you could stop yourself. “just… page after page of absolutely shameless, absurd filth. and now i’m, y’know, supposed to direct the guy. to make it sound like he’s really, um, in the moment.”

the bartender chuckled, raising a brow. “sounds intense.”

“you have no idea.” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “he’s this insanely talented voice actor. i mean, they’ve got toji fushiguro in there, which is like… god. if he knew who i actually was, he’d probably laugh.”

why’d you have to go and make things so complicated? avril continued wailing, her words your accidental anthem.

“well, whatever happens,” the bartender said, passing you a glass of water with a grin, “sounds like you’re about to have a pretty interesting morning.”

“i’ll drink to that,” you muttered, clinking your cocktail glass against the water. you downed it, hoping that somehow, it might chase the nerves away.

and as everytime we touch, i get this feeling started blasting on the speakers, you couldn’t help but shake your head with a groan. if there was a playlist made for romantic embarrassment, it was definitely playing tonight.

in your half-sloshed state, it seemed like a good idea to turn to the stranger who’d just sauntered up to the bar — a ridiculously hot stranger, tall with dark hair, and a scar slashing right across his lip. it was the kind of look that would’ve inspired an entire chapter in one of your books, but as of right now? it was just inspiring some truly regrettable choices.

“goodness gracious, great balls of fire,” you muttered to yourself, just loud enough to catch his attention, which felt smooth, in your totally buzzed opinion. so, of course, you swung around on your stool, plastering on what you hoped was an alluring smile.

oh god, here we go. “hey there, handsome…” you paused, hiccuping “… you come here often?”

the stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, leaning an elbow against the bar with a smirk that could kill. “depends,” he said, voice low and rough. “you, uh, always this friendly after a few drinks?”

oh god. 

oh god. 

but you couldn’t stop now. 

you were committed. 

you were bold. 

with all the poise of a drunk giraffe, you propped your elbow on the bar and leaned in closer, pointing a finger at his chest — totally unintentionally, because your depth perception was off by, oh, about a mile. “well, what can i say,” you replied, attempting a sultry grin. “good-lookin’ guys like you… don’t come around often enough, mister.”

“it’s like i’m drunk off your love,” played from the speakers, not helping your case at all. 

oh god, this was actually happening. 

he actually laughed, a warm, deep chuckle, as he watched you struggle through whatever pickup line was about to escape your lips.

he tilted his head, that smirk turning up a notch. “should i be flattered?”

“you should!” you exclaimed, with a bit too much enthusiasm. “you’re like… i dunno, like one of my… you look like a… a fictional character.” 

smooth, real smooth.

“oh yeah?” his smirk widened. “so, what am i, a prince?”

“more like…” you bit your lip, trying to focus, “an antihero with a… tragic past and just enough softness in his heart to make him dangerous in all the right ways.”

he looked you up and down, bemusement clear in his eyes. “dangerous in the right ways? is that your type?”

you gave a shaky wink, nearly missing because the world was swimming a bit. “maybe.”

he chuckled, his voice all rich and velvety, and leaned in closer. “so… you’re here alone? i mean, besides all the fictional men you’re envisioning.”

“for now,” you replied, trying to sound mysterious, but it just came out as a bit… wobbly.

the bartender set the stranger’s drink down with a raised eyebrow, and he took a sip, watching you with amused interest. “you know, maybe you should slow down before you scare all the good guys away.”

“oh, trust me,” you replied, hiccuping again. “i don’t scare easy.”

he shook his head, clearly entertained, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze. you were about to continue — just as soon as the world stopped spinning — when you felt the slightest bit queasy, your stomach reminding you that you’d had one cocktail too many.

the stranger’s amused smirk softened. “you alright there?”

“i’m…” you swallowed. “perfectly fine. just, you know… making sure you’re… getting the full effect of my…” you barely managed the word “…rizz.”

he laughed outright this time, low and warm, like he genuinely couldn’t believe you were real. “is that so? lucky me.”

it was all going so well — okay, not well, but you were holding your own, kind of. you had him laughing, after all, which for someone with approximately zero charisma was an accomplishment! but then the first chords of firework by katy perry blared through the speakers, and as if on cue, your stomach decided to join in the grand finale.

“do you ever feel like a plastic bag,” katy crooned, but for you, it was more like a “do you ever feel like you’re about to ruin your night by barfing on a hot stranger?”

before you could process what was happening, the tequila-fueled fireworks decided to erupt all over this guy’s very expensive-looking shoes.

oh god. oh god.

you looked up, mortified, to find him staring down at his shoes, eyebrows raised. wow, would you look at the time? 

run.

“oh… oh no. i… i’m so sorry, i swear this never happens.”

he raised a brow, still looking somewhere between amused and horrified. “well, that’s… comforting?”

you grabbed a napkin, fumbling, still buzzing enough to not know if you should laugh, cry, or just make a run for it.

“guess that’s, uh, one way to make an impression,” he murmured, lips twitching in a smirk even as he assessed the disaster on his shoes.

“oh god. really, i’m… i’m so sorry.” you dabbed helplessly at his shoes with a cocktail napkin, somehow making things worse. “if it helps, i… i normally only vomit on hot guys.”

he chuckled, though you were sure it was mostly at you, and shook his head. “well, it’s one hell of an icebreaker.”

“baby, you’re a firework,” katy sang passionately in the background, but you were already ready to crawl under the bar and disappear forever.

you were surprised — actually, you were shocked — that the stranger hadn’t ditched you after the whole public-vomiting-on-his-shoes fiasco. instead, somehow, he was still right there, leaned in close and casually sipping his drink, just as much a mess as you were. hours had passed, and you’d been rambling about anything and everything, lost in an alcohol-fueled bubble that had turned the night into something you’d never have dreamed of.

maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the guy’s ridiculously calm attitude, but you’d opened up about your career, the absurdity of writing spicy novels as a faceless author, and even your terror about tomorrow. he’d listened with a smirk, offering the occasional snarky remark or grunt of approval. in return, he’d told you a bit about himself too — well, at least, you thought he did. at some point, the details got hazy.

“so, what do you do?” you asked, squinting at him like it was going to make his face stop swimming in your vision.

he shrugged, swirling his drink and giving a lopsided grin. “something kinda like… acting. you know, nothing glamorous.” there was a hint of amusement there, like he was in on a joke you weren’t.

you squinted harder, your mind pulling up images of random professions. “oh, so like… theater? or like, movies? or wait — commercials? are you one of those guys that has to pretend he’s in love with a bowl of soup?”

he let out a deep laugh, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “sure, something like that. though i’d like to think i’m a bit more convincing than a soup guy.”

you grinned, leaning in closer, your curiosity fully piqued despite your state. “convincing, huh? so you’re a good actor, then?”

“i do my best,” he said, voice low, that amused glint in his eye again.

“you have to be really good to make people believe in, like, totally unrealistic things, y’know?” you babbled, waving your hand. “like, imagine trying to voice —” you cut yourself off, feeling a hint of embarrassment as you remembered why you’d gotten so sloshed in the first place. the irony of tomorrow, and how this entire conversation felt like it was straight out of one of your own stories.

but before you could get too in your head about it, he tilted his head, looking genuinely interested. “voice what? i’m curious, princess.”

princess. the nickname sent a bolt of something dangerously warm straight through you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “oh, nothing…” you said, waving him off. “just, you know… the usual. people who… um, make people fall in love with their voice.”

“and what if i told you,” he leaned in even closer, smirking as if he’d just had the best idea ever, “that i could probably do that?”

you rolled your eyes, not believing him one bit. “oh really? think you could pull it off?”

“depends,” he said with a shrug. “what kinda character am i playing?”

you didn’t realize it, but you’d inched even closer, like you were hanging on his every word. “someone… someone rough around the edges,” you started, your voice dropping, completely lost in the moment, “but with a softness underneath. someone who could make the world stop with just a whisper…”

he smirked, eyes never leaving yours, and for a second, you felt like he was taking every word way too seriously. “i think i could manage that.”

you blinked, feeling a blush rise. 

this stranger had charisma — like, the kind of charisma you’d thought only existed in your characters. 

oh god, maybe you should write him into your next story. you shook yourself, blinking the daydreams away just as he started talking again.

“... and that’s why,” he was saying, “there’s a bit of an art to saying things just right. people think it’s all about the words, but it’s the way you say them that makes it real, y’know?”

you nodded, trying to focus on his words as the room spun just a bit. “so you’re telling me, it’s all in the delivery?”

“exactly.” his gaze dropped to your lips, and he smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “even the… dirtiest lines sound good if you say ’em the right way.”

oh no. that dangerous warmth was back.

somewhere between his intense gaze and that slow, lopsided smirk, dancing queen by abba blared through the bar speakers, jarring you out of your tipsy trance. the upbeat, disco-infused rhythm filled the room, all but laughing at the “moment” you thought you were having with this too-hot-for-reality stranger.

was this a moment? or were you just ridiculously drunk? did he even have a name? or were you just too far gone to have bothered asking?

“you can dance, you can jive,” abba sang, practically mocking you as you stared, wide-eyed, at the man across from you, his scarred lip twisted in a little grin as he watched you piece it all together. he must’ve seen the dawning realization on your face, because he chuckled, reaching for his drink again.

“something wrong, princess?” he asked, leaning forward with a glint of amusement.

oh, great. i’ve already been promoted to ‘princess’ by a guy i might not know the name of. you were seconds away from facepalming.

“uh, nothing,” you said, waving a hand as casually as you could manage. “just, uh, thinking how ironic it is that dancing queen is playing while… we’re, you know…”

“... having a moment?” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.

“well,” you cleared your throat, cheeks blazing, “if you can call me drunkenly staring at you while abba serenades us a ‘moment.’”

“hey, it’s a solid soundtrack choice,” he replied, looking like he was suppressing a laugh. “besides, don’t pretend this isn’t kinda perfect.”

“you think dancing queen is perfect for this?”

he shrugged, sipping his drink. “come on, you’re hammered, i’m here keeping you company, and we’re both, what… living in the moment?” he quirked a brow, his smirk widening as he eyed you, like he was daring you to argue.

and then, maybe out of pure liquid courage, or maybe because the absurdity was too much, you laughed. “yeah, living the moment… with some guy whose name i don’t even know.”

“toji,” he said, offering his hand with a lazy grin, like he’d just handed you a secret.

“toji,” you echoed, shaking his hand. he held on for a second longer than necessary, his gaze never leaving yours.

 oh, this guy was trouble, and you were in so deep.

“and you?” he asked, still holding your hand.

you barely managed to whisper your name, but it came out like a sigh, and he repeated it back like it was something precious. “well then,” he said, smirking, “guess that makes two dancing queens tonight.”

“toji…” you muttered, the name slipping off your tongue again as you tried to place it. there was something familiar about it, like you’d heard it before, but in your tequila-drenched state, nothing was sticking. 

toji, toji… where had you heard that name?

he cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused as you stared at him like he was the world’s most frustrating puzzle. “something on your mind?”

“n-no,” you stammered, then immediately backpedaled. “wait, actually, yes. toji, right?”

he nodded, a playful gleam in his eye. “that’s the one.”

“toji… toji…” you repeated, squinting at him as if a clearer view would magically connect the dots. and then, it hit you — toji fushiguro. 

the voice actor who would be bringing your spicy, shamelessly dramatic main character to life. 

the same guy you were supposed to meet tomorrow, the guy who was probably used to making everyone’s knees buckle with just a whisper.

“no way…” you whispered, clutching your head, and you could practically feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. “you — you’re… that toji?”

he gave a slight tilt of his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “what, surprised that i could be both hot and talented?”

you sputtered, trying to backtrack and failing miserably. “no! i mean, yes, but i just — tomorrow —  you’re… you’re the guy who’s voicing my main character?”

he leaned back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the whirlwind of emotions he was putting you through. “didn’t think the universe would give you a sneak preview tonight, huh?”

your fuzzy brain struggled to compute this twist of fate. you were drunk, mortified, and beyond flustered, sitting in a bar with the man who’d soon be giving voice to all your filthy, shameless words. this was almost too much.

“oh my god,” you muttered, sinking back in your seat. “i literally threw up on my main character’s shoes.”

toji let out a hearty laugh, patting your shoulder. “hey, if anything, i’d say it’s on-brand for the kind of night you’d write.”

just as you were processing the sheer, ridiculous insanity of the situation, a fresh wave of nausea hit you like a freight train. before you could even react, you leaned forward and… splattered the floor with a decidedly not-dignified stream of bile. this time, it was almost cinematic, complete with a dramatic gagging sound that had you doubling over.

you watched in horror as you once again spewed your insides onto the floor, narrowly missing toji’s shoes but definitely adding a new layer to the already mortifying scene. 

you’d probably just hit rock bottom.

“oh, god,” you groaned, covering your mouth with your hand as the bile burned your throat. “i swear… i’m not normally like this.”

toji chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he handed you a stack of napkins the bartender had generously supplied. “i’m starting to think i’m just a little too overwhelming for you, princess.”

you shot him a sheepish look as you wiped your mouth. overwhelming was an understatement. 

“yeah, maybe we can leave that out of tomorrow’s team introductions,” you mumbled, trying desperately to pull yourself together.

toji chuckled, tossing a few more napkins your way. “no judgment here. it’s a rough night for a first ‘meet-cute,’ but hey, you’re nothing if not memorable.”

you gripped the napkin, willing yourself to hold it together, at least until you could make a semi-dignified exit. “i don’t even want to know what story you’ll tell people about this.”

toji just laughed, completely unbothered, as if getting vomited on was a regular night for him. “don’t worry, i’ll keep it discreet.” his voice dipped, lowering to a murmur. “for a girl with secrets, i figure you’d appreciate that.”

he lifted his drink and gave you a small toast. “to first meetings — and unforgettable nights. and hey, maybe tomorrow, you’ll surprise me and keep it down.”

oh, god, you thought, as you attempted to bury yourself in your napkin. if only i could crawl under the bar and hide forever.

normally, you wouldn’t wake up with “dancing queen” stuck in your head, but as you nursed the remnants of a truly terrible hangover, it felt almost... pleasant? the upbeat melody cut through the fog of your brain, and you couldn’t help but hum along, even if the lyrics felt like a cruel reminder of your embarrassing escapades from the night before.

“you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life...”

wait, why dancing queen of all songs? you squinted at your alarm clock, your heart racing as the memories started flooding back like a poorly written rom-com. oh.

OH.

your eyes widened as you bolted out of bed with a speed that could make an olympic runner blush, frantically throwing on whatever clothes you could find — did you seriously still have a piece of glitter from last night stuck in your hair? gross! but no time for a shower; you had a meeting to get to at gojo-sonic, and you were about to meet — erm, remeet — toji fushiguro.

“ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen...”

as the lyrics blared in your head like an incessant movie soundtrack, you dashed out the door, praying you’d catch a cab in time. the universe couldn’t possibly let you walk into this meeting looking like a hot mess — especially when your main character's voice was waiting on the other side.

“you’re a tease you turn ‘em on…leave ‘em burning and then you’re gone…”

you rolled your eyes at your own ridiculousness. who cared if you’d practically thrown up on the guy? all you had to do was survive your own personal dance-off with fate and hope toji didn’t remember the lovely little details from last night.

you took a deep breath, determined to channel all the confidence you could muster. today was going to be great. right?

as you walked into the meeting room, gojo practically huffed an air of relief. you couldn’t help but think it was a little dramatic — like, it’s just a meeting. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the last remnants of your hangover and the lingering embarrassment of last night’s vomit-venture.

the room was brightly lit, filled with a few familiar faces, including toji, who was leaning casually against a table with that annoyingly charming grin plastered on his face. 

great. you’d somehow forgotten just how hot he was in the light of day. 

toji’s presence made your stomach flutter and flip, but you shoved that feeling down — this was business, after all.

you scanned the room and spotted gojo-sonic’s most valued investor suguru geto on a screen in the corner, his hair tied back and eyes sharp as he joined the meeting online. wow, great first impression! with a sudden wave of panic, you could almost hear the dancing queen lyrics mocking you in the back of your mind. what’s next, bursting into song?

“hey, look who finally made it!” toji said, amusement dancing in his eyes. perfect. if he was going to make light of your grand entrance, you had to think fast to steer the conversation away from the disaster that was last night.

“sorry for keeping you all waiting,” you replied, forcing a smile that hopefully didn’t look too forced. “i had... a crazy night.”

toji raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “crazy night, huh? did you bring us any stories?”

you shot him a warning glance, your heart racing as you internally pleaded with him not to say anything that could ruin your career. thankfully, he just chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back, letting the moment hang in the air without any revealing comments.

“i think we’d all like to hear that,” suguru said, his tone teasing as he adjusted the camera. “but let’s save the fun stuff for later, right? we’ve got work to do.”

you nodded, grateful for suguru’s timely intervention. “yes, absolutely! so, uh, about the voice work —”

the atmosphere shifted as the others exchanged knowing glances, and you knew you’d have to tread carefully. this meeting was crucial, and you couldn’t let last night’s incident derail everything you’d worked for. with any luck, maybe you could just keep your foot out of your mouth for the rest of the meeting.

toji always knew he was hot.

i mean, how could he not? 

with a jawline that could slice bread and a smirk that could charm the pants off anyone, confidence practically dripped off him like a cologne commercial. but the real question was: how to channel this hotness and turn it into something lucrative? great question! 

being a single dad to wasn’t easy, and running from odd job to odd job just to scrape enough money for the brat’s school was proving to be tiresome. until one day, a certain gojo satoru decided to drop a bombshell on him.

“toji, you ever think about using that voice of yours for something... more creative?” gojo asked, leaning back in his office chair, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“creative? what, like narrating my life as a sad single dad?” toji replied dryly, rolling his eyes. “because let me tell you, it’s not exactly a page-turner.”

“no, no, hear me out!” gojo insisted, practically bouncing in his seat. “i’m talking about voice acting — specifically, erotic audiobooks. it’s the next big thing!”

toji blinked, momentarily stunned. “you mean to tell me that the former bouncer at an elite club would be voicing erotic audiobooks? saying those weird, cringey lines that women seem to love? you’re insane.”

“think about it! you have the looks, the voice, and the whole mysterious vibe down pat,” gojo urged, waving his hands dramatically. “besides, you need the cash, and i need someone to bring a little... heat to my company.”

“you really think people want to hear me read lines like, ‘take me, you wild beast?’” toji quipped, snorting.

fast forward to his first recording session, where everything seemed to be going smoothly until disaster struck. toji was deep in character, delivering his best sexy voice when — bam! — the bathroom pipe exploded in his tiny flat.

“oh god, yes, just like that —” he started, voice dripping with sultry charm, when suddenly, a muffled splash! interrupted him, followed by megumi’s wail from the other room.

“dad! there’s water everywhere!”

toji cursed under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. “i’m coming! just... give me a second, i’m — ah, it’s getting so hot in here!” he struggled to continue, desperately trying to block out the chaos around him while the sounds of the pipe gushing water filled the audio.

but it turned out hormones took over the technical difficulties, because when the snippet was finally released, women and men of all ages were devouring it like it was the last slice of pizza at a party. it even went viral on tiktok, with cringe-worthy wannabes trying to recreate his sultry lines, failing miserably while toji sat back, amused.

“really? you think you can pull this off?” he chuckled to himself, watching one kid awkwardly mimic him. “nice try, kid. but good luck sounding this good while your mom’s screaming at you for hogging the bathroom.”

because toji wasn’t just a househusband — house father — anymore. he was a household name, and everyone knew him. his rise to fame was a wild ride, but hey, at least now he could afford to get the bathroom fixed — one line at a time.

he could hardly wrap his head around how he’d managed to move out of his tiny, crumbling apartment and into a much better place for him and megumi. it was like waking up one day and realizing he’d accidentally won the lottery. “wait, how did i end up here?” he’d mutter to himself, staring at the pristine walls and polished floors. “and how the hell can i pay megumi’s school fees on time without dodging dirty glares from the accounts office?”

he’d walk into the school, head held high, while megumi proudly puffed out his eight-year-old chest. “my daddy’s an actor!” he’d announce to anyone who would listen. toji couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. i mean, the kid wasn’t wrong. he was acting — acting like he had his life together, at least!

but did his new job stop toji from being a little hoe? oh, hell no. 

if anything, the fame went straight to his head — both up and down there, mind you. toji was like a kid in a candy store, and he was using his newfound charm to siphon money from literally every sugar mommy he could find. 

and daddies, too, if he was feeling daring. 

because people would die to be known as someone “close” to the toji fushiguro.

“oh my god, is that him?” a passerby would whisper, nudging her friend as they walked past toji at a private event.

“i think it is! i heard he’s dating someone famous,” her friend would respond, leaning in as if they were sharing a juicy secret. “i’ve seen him at that new club downtown. he’s just so... magnetic.”

“totally! i mean, if i could get him to call me ‘sweetheart’ just once, i’d die a happy woman,” the first friend would say, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.

toji would smirk to himself, sipping his drink while casually overhearing their chatter. “yep, you’re right. i’m as available as a 24/7 convenience store,” he’d think, reveling in the attention. "i could probably charm the pants off a rock if i tried."

another group of giggling fans would walk by, whispering amongst themselves, “i met him at that charity event last week! he was so sweet! like, did you see the way he talked to everyone? he’s definitely a heartthrob.”

“sweet? you mean hot, right?” one of them would tease, and they’d all burst into laughter.

“please, if he looked at me, i’d die!” another would declare, all starry-eyed.

toji’s smirk widened. “keep it coming, ladies. i’m just here for the show.” he couldn’t deny it; being the center of attention was intoxicating, and he was loving every second of it.

with a wink and a little wave, he’d keep strutting through life like a runway model, knowing full well he had the power to turn heads and keep wallets open. “who knew being a hot voice actor could be this fun?”

great that you’d ask what toji did with all that sweet, sweet cash! save it all for his brat of a son, of course, even if he wouldn’t admit it. beneath that rugged exterior and playful swagger, he had a soft spot for the little sucker.

just the other week, megumi had been rambling on about wanting a really cool new video game console. “but daddy, alllll my friends have one! it’s so unfair!” he’d whined, big blue eyes practically shimmering with hope. toji had rolled his eyes, trying to act tough, but the moment he saw the kid's face, his heart melted like butter on a hot skillet. “fine, but only if you promise to finish your homework first.”

the next day, megumi had unwrapped a brand-new console, complete with all the latest games, and toji had basked in the sheer delight radiating from his son. “this is the best day ever!” megumi had screamed, wrapping his arms around toji’s waist. “thank you, daddy!”

toji grinned like an idiot, pretending to be unimpressed. “yeah, yeah, don’t go losing it on the first day, alright? and remember, no playing after eight!” he was basically a walking contradiction: a grumpy dad who secretly loved being the cool parent.

then there was that time megumi had been obsessed with this rare action figure from his favorite show. toji had seen the way his son’s eyes lit up every time he spotted it in a store, but it was always sold out. so, naturally, when toji found one online at a steep price, he didn’t hesitate. “i’ll just skip my overpriced rum for a week. totally worth it.”

when megumi had opened the package, he’d literally jumped in the air, screeching like a siren. “no way! you got it for me!?” and toji had played it cool, shrugging his shoulders. “what can i say? your dad’s a generous guy.”

of course, this indulgence didn’t go unnoticed by gojo satoru. the six eyes — er, eyes! — of the man always seemed to be on toji, especially when he noticed his friend was splurging just a little too much on himself — like that new leather jacket that looked ridiculously good on him. 

“i need a jacket like that,” gojo had muttered to himself, glancing at his own wardrobe with disappointment.

whenever toji treated himself, gojo would quietly slide a check over to him, nonchalantly muttering, “just a little something for megumi’s school expenses.”

some people would have viewed it as offensive or patronizing, but not toji. he’d always laughed it off, feeling grateful instead. in his mind, gojo was like a guardian angel — “if guardian angels wore sunglasses and had a taste for expensive sweets.” he saw it as gojo looking out for megumi, which made toji’s heart swell with warmth. “who else would want to help raise my kid? might as well accept it.”

“just don’t make a habit of it, alright?” toji would say with a teasing grin. “i don’t need you spoiling him more than i do.”

“too late,” gojo would quip, already plotting ways to sneak more gifts into megumi’s life. “it’s my new hobby.”

so, when gojo casually dropped the bomb that toji would be voicing one of the hottest, trending smut book — “mating with the demon king” or something equally ridiculous — toji shrugged it off. “simple enough job,” he thought. “and it must be good if they came to me for it.”

but when gojo suggested he read the book to get an idea of the material — “just a little prep work,” he’d said with that infuriatingly charming grin — things took a wild turn.

big mistake, toji would later reflect as he flipped through the pages, his eyebrows shooting up higher than a roller coaster. “who writes this stuff?” he muttered, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

the content was downright depraved. there were scenes that had him questioning his entire existence. 

“‘he thrust into her like a man possessed, each stroke igniting a fire within her’ — what even is that?” he read aloud, only to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness. megumi, playing quietly in the other room, wondered why his daddy was cackling like a madman.

“uh, daddy? why are you reading that out loud?” megumi had peeked in, eyes wide with curiosity. toji quickly scrambled to shut the book. “uh, just… learning about, uh, cooking techniques!” he stammered, trying to play it cool. “you wouldn’t get it, buddy.”

but the laughter continued to bubble out of him, and he couldn’t help but read some of the more ludicrous lines. “‘his lips found her collarbone, trailing heat like a wildfire’ — who even talks like that?” he shook his head, utterly bemused.

by the end of the chapter, he was howling. “‘she gasped as he swept her off her feet and into a world of ecstasy’ — oh please!” toji chortled, clutching his stomach, imagining how this would all sound through a microphone. “my kid is gonna think i’ve lost my goddamn mind.”

but hey, if this job was going to pay the bills, he figured he could endure a little humiliation. “it’s all in a day’s work, right?” he muttered to himself, finally accepting that he was now the voice of “mating with the demon king.”

all that reading really took its toll on toji — physically, mentally, spiritually even. after hours spent tripping over lines like “pressed against the throbbing heat of his desire” (yeah, that one took five tries to get through without laughing), he needed to clear his head. so, he found himself at a bar, halfway through a drink, hoping to numb the embarrassment he’d just endured in the name of rent money.

then stumbles this stranger — a cute, very tipsy stranger who quickly parked herself right next to him and started chatting him up, wide-eyed and slightly unsteady. great, drunk people, he thought, resisting an eyeroll as she grinned at him, looking ready to either start a fight or profess her love. 

maybe both.

of course, what are the odds she’d go ahead and throw up on his shoes? yes, his brand-new shoes, because, apparently, the universe had decided that tonight, toji fushiguro would be the world’s personal punching bag. “can’t even get through one drink without some shit happening,” he muttered to himself as she looked up at him with a horrified expression. “we’re off to a great start here, huh?”

after some water and some awkward apologies (mostly her apologizing, mostly him trying not to laugh), they fell into surprisingly decent conversation. she was rambling about her job, the stress, the weird demands — stuff he could sympathize with, honestly. 

and that’s when he dropped it, just for fun: “i’m a voice actor.”

her eyes sparkled with recognition — a little too much recognition, actually, which made him narrow his eyes. “wait, what’s your name?” she asked, suddenly all ears.

“toji. toji fushiguro.”

the second he said it, her face went from curious to horrified to... oh yeah, she knew exactly who he was. “wait,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. “you’re... you’re the voice actor for my book.”

toji raised an eyebrow, deadpan. 

so this was the writer, the one who wrote all that nonsense he’d been struggling through for days. well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top. not only was this his boss but also the very person responsible for phrases like “pulsing need” and “moans spilling like honey.” and she’d just puked on him. 

talk about a power move.

“small world,” he said, his tone dry as desert sand. wonderful, he thought. my boss threw up on me. but, hey, the night was still young. 

he took a long sip from his drink, hoping she wouldn’t take this as an excuse to unleash some kind of creative critique.

“i... i didn’t know you’d be here,” she stammered, a shade redder than before, probably realizing what this made her look like — her, the lady behind the “throbbing heat of desire” shtick.

“don’t worry,” he said, giving her a smirk. “i won’t tell anyone the literary mastermind responsible for all that... romance has a weak stomach.”

you probably don’t remember much after you composed yourself following that second round of projectile embarrassment — but don’t worry, toji remembers. the man’s got a steel trap for the kinds of memories you’d prefer stayed buried. once he’d figured out that you weren’t exactly in shape to be left wandering around, he made the executive decision to get you home. yeah, he’d just met you a couple hours ago, but somehow, through the boozy haze and questionable life choices, he’d managed to catch your address. 

impressive detective work, really… or, well, you may have blurted it out mid-ramble about how “the streetlight outside is the only thing lighting up your lonely hallway.” 

a touch dramatic, but, hey, it worked.

so he got you back to your place (no thanks to the cab driver’s judgmental side-eye), got you up the stairs without you faceplanting, and, after propping you up long enough to unlock your door, he even went the extra mile and tucked you under the covers. you, meanwhile, mumbled something about ���tequila being the devil,” blissfully oblivious to the poor guy who’d just witnessed more of your personal life than your closest friends. toji took one last look before heading out, chuckling to himself as you drifted off, probably already dreaming of whatever literary nonsense you’d be writing next.

but what really stuck with him? the damn “dancing queen” chorus ringing in his ears from the bar. maybe it was still playing somewhere out there in the night, or maybe you’d just cursed him with it. because as he walked home, hands shoved in his pockets, there it was, looping over and over in his head. 

“you can dance… you can jive…” 

great, now he’d be humming it for days.

both you and toji were snapped back into the fluorescent-lit reality of the conference room, where gojo was still going on about… royalties? percentages? to be honest, the entire spiel sounded more like corporate white noise to you. 

toji, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, looking as disinterested as humanly possible without actually falling asleep. across the screen, suguru appeared in one of those stiff, all-business modes, nodding along to gojo’s speech. his eyes had that telltale sparkle that only appeared when money was the topic — “stakeholder perks,” as gojo would call it, though it just meant suguru got to rake in extra cash on the side.

“and once the audiobook’s live, the split from the sales will be recalculated quarterly, yadda yadda, yadaaa —” gojo’s voice broke into a sing-song, clearly amusing only himself. “anyway, you guys will see some real sweet checks from this.”

“royalties…” suguru interjected, a bit too smoothly, “remind me what those projected percentages were again, satoru?”

toji suppressed a snort. here they were, with the man himself who could barely be bothered to read a weather report straight, much less your raunchy magnum opus. good luck explaining earnings, gojo.

“oh yeah, royalties!” gojo cleared his throat, launching into a number-laden monologue that seemed to somehow both explain everything and nothing at once. toji barely listened, glancing at the digital clock on the wall. it was only when gojo pivoted, with a suddenly very pointed look, that toji actually tuned back in.

“so, did everyone do their, ah, homework?” gojo grinned as his gaze swept across the room, his eyes landing on you with a bit too much knowing amusement. “read the… material?”

you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, and every other voice actor in the room suddenly found the table, the wall, or their own shoes very interesting.

all except toji, of course, who stretched back with the most obnoxious smirk you’d seen yet.

“homework?” he drawled, deadpan as always. “yeah, got right into it. wouldn’t want to miss a single word of that… fine literature.”

a few of the others exchanged awkward looks, clearly unsure how to respond to the dead-serious way toji said fine literature without a shred of irony. meanwhile, you shrank a little in your seat, not exactly loving the fact that the guy you threw up on was apparently the one voice actor who actually read your work cover-to-cover. not to mention, this was toji fushiguro, the voice actor who’d taken the world by storm with a single, leaked snippet. you'd heard your fans say that he was some kind of god-tier talent — practically a household name. and now? 

he was casually staring you down like he'd just read your diary.

“it’s… it’s not that bad,” you muttered defensively, feeling a prickling heat rise up your neck.

toji raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “oh, didn’t say it was bad. just, uh… thorough.”

you felt the blush intensify, but before you could reply, gojo jumped back in, undeterred. “great! since everyone’s read it now, we’ll dive into scene breakdowns tomorrow, with input from our illustrious author here.” he winked at you in that annoyingly playful way of his, as if he’d just orchestrated the whole thing for kicks. “it’s all about bringing your vision to life, yeah?”

“looking forward to it.” toji’s tone was smooth, with just enough emphasis to hint at the mischief lying behind his calm expression. you could swear there was a glimmer of challenge in his eyes, and the fact that he’d actually read the book — a book that you wrote in a creative haze, no less — was beginning to feel less like a weird coincidence and more like some cosmic joke at your expense.

suguru’s voice broke through, “and let’s hope that translates to success, right, gojo? my dividends would certainly appreciate it.”

“oh, don’t you worry, sugu bear.” gojo leaned in with that shark-like grin of his. “with toji voicing this masterpiece, and the author right here to guide us? we’re printing money already.”

with a dramatic flourish, gojo clapped his hands together, instantly breaking the tension. “alright, dismissed! snacks are out front — help yourselves, or not! more for me, after all,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he clearly envisioned his sugary hoard.

suguru took this moment as his graceful exit cue, giving a short nod before the screen blinked off. gojo sighed theatrically, clasping his chest. “oh, suguru, leaving so soon? you wound me! who’s going to discuss ‘dividends’ and ‘royalties’ with me now?”

nobody had the heart — or possibly the patience — to answer that question, which suited gojo just fine as he spun on his heel, making his way toward the snack table. 

you, meanwhile, considered vanishing altogether, at least until the next segment of the day when you’d actually need to make yourself useful. judging by the energy in the room, none of the other voice actors were in a rush to strike up a conversation with you. 

ouch. apparently, being the creator of their next project wasn’t that much of a social asset.

you edged toward the door, already halfway to freedom when, like clockwork, a deep, familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “leaving so soon?”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. obnoxious didn’t even cover half of it. “just… thought i’d give you guys a break from me,” you muttered, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, hoping it looked casual instead of like an attempt to bolt.

toji’s laugh was low, almost teasing. “a break? i don’t mind the company. in fact, i think the others are just shy.” his words were smooth, but there was a mischievous lilt to them, like he was very aware of just how uncomfortable you probably were.

“right,” you deadpanned, summoning every ounce of sarcasm you had left. “they’re all just shy.”

he chuckled, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the snack table. gojo was already there, unabashedly sampling a tray of tiny cupcakes. he shot you both a grin that was, in all honesty, more threatening than friendly. 

oh god, why is he looking at us like that?

“so!” gojo swiped another cupcake, leaning back against the table as he took in you and toji with an almost too-pleased expression. “getting along, are we? i mean, it’s not every day you get to work so closely with the voice behind your book, right?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if trying to ignite some sort of spark just to make things interesting.

toji, unbothered as ever, shrugged. “she already threw up on me. might as well be friends after that, huh?”

oh my god. 

you felt the flush rise to your face instantly, a mix of embarrassment and horror. he did not just bring that up in front of gojo, of all people.

“aww, how cute!” gojo crooned, looking absolutely delighted as he clapped his hands in that overly-enthusiastic, not-at-all sincere way. “bonding over bodily fluids. you guys are practically soulmates!”

“please, kill me now,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at the snack table like it might provide an escape hatch.

toji leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone. “don’t worry, author. i’ve seen worse.”

“great, that’s… comforting,” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you grabbed a snack at random. at this point, you were ready to make a quick exit, potentially before the day’s work even started if it meant escaping this scene.

“now, don’t run off too fast,” gojo added, wagging a finger at you with a sly grin. “i’m expecting all of us back here in an hour, nice and energized. don’t want any excuses!”

toji shot you one last look, equal parts teasing and unreadable, before he turned to grab a coffee. “guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer,” he murmured, a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes.

wonderful. absolutely wonderful. well, at least there’s cupcakes.

it’s only five minutes into the recording session, and you’re already wondering if there’s a job market for earth-burrowing positions. if there is, you’d gladly take it. anything would be better than this…circus.

the sound booth is packed with voice actors delivering line after line of your book’s carefully crafted (painfully cheesy) smutty dialogue. you bite your lip, both cringing and resisting the urge to laugh out loud as one of the actors, a slender guy with an unfortunate tendency to over-dramatize every vowel, reads his line with a tragic sigh.

“i can’t help it… i just want to devour you.”

devour you? you want to throw yourself into the nearest trash can. before you can stop yourself, you lean forward into the mic, managing a half-apologetic, half-pleading tone. “uh, could you maybe… ease up on the ‘devour’ part? like, less dramatic, more… suave?”

he nods seriously, doing a quick vocal warm-up before trying again. “i can’t help it… i just want to devoooour—”

“nope! nope, nope, nope!” you blurt, a little louder than you intended, the cringe spiraling out of control. you quickly clear your throat, trying to sound as professional as possible. “let’s, uh, maybe just skip to the next line.”

from the corner of the room, you catch sight of gojo, who’s grinning so widely you’re genuinely concerned his face might stay that way forever. he’s watching you with an infectious enthusiasm that’s bordering on manic, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement. you’re half-expecting him to yell, “surprise! this is an snl skit!”

you rub at your temple, wishing the earth would do you a solid and open up beneath you, while the next actor — a petite, sweet-looking woman who’s visibly uncomfortable — takes her turn. she clears her throat, looking down at her script, and delivers the line in a barely-there whisper, “i… i want you to take me… take me as if…”

“um…” you grimace, instantly feeling the heat rise to your face. “maybe a bit louder? but, you know, sensual.”

she blushes, muttering something under her breath before raising her voice, though it’s still trembling. “i… i want you to… take me… as if…”

toji, who’s been watching the whole scene from his seat, chuckles lowly, and his smirk sends a jolt of embarrassment through you. “jeez, author, why don’t you just hop in there and show ’em how it’s done?” he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm, though it’s not unkind.

you throw him a flat look, biting back an eye roll. not like i wanted to be here, you think to yourself. it’s just that somehow, the universe decided that today you’d be responsible for turning lines you’d never want to say out loud into something even remotely palatable.

and it only gets worse. 

another actor — a deep-voiced, well-meaning guy in his mid-40s — leans into his mic and reads out, in a gruff voice you can only describe as a rejected batman impersonation: “you’re driving me… wild.” his tone is so intense it’s like he’s threatening to fight the listener in a parking lot.

“okay… we might want to dial it back a little,” you say carefully, hoping to mask your horror with politeness. “just… a little less ‘supervillain,’ more… warm?”

you hear toji chuckle behind you, low and rumbling, clearly reveling in your suffering. and as you glance over your shoulder, you find gojo, once again, looking like this is the best entertainment he’s had in years. 

at this point, he might actually cry from laughing.

just when you think it can’t get any worse, toji stands, giving you a wink as he heads into the booth for his turn. he takes the mic, his face blank and unreadable as he starts reading the next line.

“i need you… right now,” he purrs, his voice oozing that lazy, sensual charm you’d envisioned for this character. it’s… almost unfair, really. 

there’s not an ounce of irony or overacting. 

toji’s delivery is so smooth, so confident, that it catches you off guard, a flush rising to your cheeks.

gojo lets out a low whistle, giving you a teasing look as if to say, see? was that so hard?

“finally,” you mutter under your breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. gojo raises a brow, clearly enjoying every second of your awkwardness.

you sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the rest of the recording. if nothing else, at least one actor seems to have nailed the tone — much to your embarrassment and gojo’s endless delight.

you clear your throat, attempting to regain some semblance of control over the recording session, which is proving to be harder than herding a pack of caffeinated cats. “right, everyone, let’s, uh, keep moving and go ahead with recording the dragon king’s lines. toji, if you’re ready?”

but you barely finish your sentence before gojo claps toji on the shoulder with that all-too-annoying bromance energy, grinning from ear to ear. “our star is ready, aren’t ya, toji? i mean, look at this guy! look at him! can’t believe i found this gem for gojo-sonic!” gojo’s voice carries that infuriatingly proud tone that practically drips with smug satisfaction.

you stifle an eye roll, and even the other actors exchange glances, half-annoyed, half-amused at gojo’s over-the-top fawning. but before you can jump in to cut gojo off, toji just smirks, sliding comfortably into the mic like he was born to deliver cheesy lines.

“alright, alright,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “let’s see what you’ve got, mr. dragon king.”

toji adjusts the headphones, his lazy smirk already primed. 

and then he begins, voice low and sultry, hitting each cringe-worthy word with the same ridiculous gravitas that has the whole room mesmerized.

“i have waited eons for a beauty like yours to grace my realm. come… be mine, and together we shall rule the heavens.”

you can practically feel everyone holding their breath, transfixed by the sheer sincerity in his tone, despite the line’s absurdity. you, too, can’t help but feel a blush creeping up your neck, which is just unfair given you wrote these lines. 

you knew what they were meant to sound like, but this? 

he’s delivering them like they’re damn poetry.

toji doesn’t stop there, though, his deep voice carrying each line as though he’s serenading the mic. “my heart burns with a fire only you can soothe. take my hand, and i swear to guard your heart with my very life.”

gojo is practically fawning, batting his eyelashes like a proud parent in the corner. “see, people, this is how it’s done! let the dragon king here show you amateurs how it’s really supposed to sound!”

you resist the urge to chuck something at gojo as the other actors’ eyes widen, watching in awe.

one of them mutters under their breath, “no way we’re topping that.”

and then, toji’s voice dips even lower, the next line coming out in a growl that somehow manages to be both dramatic and, disturbingly, kind of… enchanting.

“you are the breath in my lungs, the flame in my veins. without you, i am but a shadow… a beast in the dark.”

the room is dead silent. 

you’re all fawning, gushing messes, and you’re not even sure how it happened. it’s like toji’s somehow turned this trial recording into an absurdly hot moment. you can barely believe you’re hearing the same lines you once labeled “ridiculously cringey” in the draft.

finally, he leans back, looking pleased with himself, as if he hadn’t just left everyone a little breathless. gojo practically beams with pride, nudging you. 

“so… i think you’ve found your dragon king, wouldn’t you say?”

you nod, still stunned, half in disbelief, half in begrudging admiration. if this was just the trial recording, you could only imagine how many blushing, starry-eyed listeners this final audiobook was going to leave in its wake.

the moment the trial recording session wraps up, gojo is the first one on his feet, clapping his hands like he's just watched the performance of a lifetime. “brilliant!” he practically shouts, pulling out his phone faster than you can blink. “suguru needs to hear this,” he mutters, already dialing his business partner like a kid who can’t wait to brag about his latest toy.

sometimes you really do forget that gojo is the ceo of a multi-million dollar company — an erotic audiobook company, no less. 

is he this passionate about the art, or is it just the money? either way, watching him fanboy over his own employee leaves you a mix of amused and exhausted.

there’s a charm to it, though, even if it’s a little baffling to witness in real time.

as the energy in the studio starts to mellow, you find yourself actually breathing a bit easier. for once, things seem to be going smoothly. 

maybe this whole collaboration wouldn’t be a disaster after all. 

you let yourself relax, even if a small part of your brain chides you with a quick reminder: next time, skip the cheap caffeine fix when you’re pulling an all-nighter writing smut. 

or… cheap anything, really. 

yeah, you don’t actually smoke, you remind yourself — except, well, that one time in college, but hey, that was a whole different you. one that should stay buried in the relics of questionable decisions, right next to your spiral-bound notes of embarrassingly bad poetry.

just as you’re praying to the universe that this is all going to wrap up without any extra drama, you hear it. the sound that’s become both your nightmare and… okay, maybe, a little less than that.

“well, princess,” toji’s voice rumbles, his tone as amused as it is teasing, “got anything else you want from your dragon king?”

you close your eyes and will the ground to open up beneath you, but nope, nothing. 

nothing but the sound of your heartbeat doing an awkward little tango in your chest.

of course he’d pick now to resurrect that ridiculous moniker from last night. like it wasn’t humiliating enough when he threw it out there while you were a couple drinks deep and all but glued to your seat at the bar. 

oh, you’re practically begging the universe to put you out of your misery — well, actually, now that you think about it, maybe being wrapped up in those beefy arms wouldn’t be the worst fate…

wow. get a grip, girl. this is the caffeine deprivation talking. 

definitely that.

but then toji smirks at you, an eyebrow raised, as if he’s just dared you to respond. and all you can think is… oh, lord, this man is trouble.

"c’mon, just a drink,” toji insists, flashing that devil-may-care grin that both ruins and improves your day within a matter of seconds. he’s leaning back like he’s got all the time in the world, casually ignoring how you definitely don’t. 

“trust me, princess, it’ll settle your nerves.”

it’s not like you need a reminder of the mess that was last night. every foggy memory swirls in your head, like life’s own cruel version of a mocktail — one garnished with shame, regret, and a generous helping of last night’s tequila. 

if anything, adding more drinks to this equation feels about as smart as walking blindfolded into traffic.

but toji’s already up, stretching like he’s completely unaware of the chaotic memories this whole “outing” is summoning. “just a quick look around gojo-sonic, yeah?” he says, nodding toward the maze of hallways beyond the studio door, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

“you’re new here, and it’s… important to know the lay of the land. work reasons.”

you can practically hear the quotation marks around that “work reasons.”

“you know,” he adds with a wink, “never hurts to see where the magic happens.”

yeah, right. you have a feeling the only magic here is him somehow dragging you deeper into your personal nightmare.

you don’t even get the chance to respond with a yes, no, or a “maybe next century” when toji’s phone lights up and his whole expression darkens. not exactly the look you expect from the guy whose voice practically ruined half the internet last month with that infamous line about... well, yeah, better not go there right now.

“satoru, the brat got into a fight,” he growls into the phone, and suddenly, satoru’s jaw hits the floor with such force you can practically hear it from across the studio. toji doesn’t stick around for a reply, though — he’s already striding toward the door like a man with a purpose, ignoring satoru’s spluttered, “the what did who?”

and somehow — god knows how — you find yourself tagging along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s the thrill of seeing toji in full boss mode, or maybe it’s just because, oh, y’know, “responsible adult and responsibilities” instincts or whatever. 

but the further you walk, the more you realize that toji doesn’t mind you following one bit. in fact, he’s practically matching his pace to yours, as if you’re part of some unofficial escort mission to... whoever this “brat” is.

which, speaking of, who the hell is megumi?

you’re still trying to wrap your head around how this was supposed to be a “quick tour” of the office and not, somehow, an impromptu escort mission to the world’s sleekest car, a porsche 911 turbo — yep, that’s right, the kind of car you’ve only ever seen in movies where the bad guy’s got a mysterious, sexy side. all you can manage is, “you own this?”

toji shrugs, slipping his keys into the ignition with an air of pure, unbothered cool. “you don’t?”

oh. okay. 

you barely have time to process this response before he’s peeling out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding a stray cat, a snail-paced truck, and an old lady who’s almost sacrificed her wig to his driving style. but hey, all part of the thrill, right?

definitely not questioning life choices here.

by the time you pull up to a cutesy primary school — you know, the kind with pastel-colored gates and cartoon murals of bears and rabbits — you’re genuinely confused. 

toji seems like the last guy who’d be here unless it was some undercover op. and “megumi,” whoever he is, sounds like he could be the school’s playground menace.

“wait, this is where we’re headed?” you ask, eyeing the building like it might suddenly make sense.

but toji’s out of the car, moving so fast you practically have to jog to keep up. the school secretary gives you both a wary glance, likely sensing the storm of exasperation radiating off toji, as he strides straight into the principal’s office. there, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl that screams “mini-toji,” is a little boy with spiky hair and an air of quiet defiance.

without missing a beat, toji asks, “megs! did you win?”

the principal, a kindly-looking woman whose expression is rapidly shifting from “calm mediator” to “i don’t get paid enough for this,” clears her throat. 

“mr. fushiguro, your son wasn’t... in the wrong, per se. it appears he was, um, defending his honor.”

defending his honor? you blink. what kind of second grader even knows what that means?

“that true, ‘gumi?” toji says, arms crossed, looking every bit the unbothered, proud dad of the year.

“he said my dad was a... weird voice actor,” megumi mutters, then shrugs. “so i said at least my dad works.”

you nearly choke, partly from stifled laughter, partly from the sheer absurdity of all this. here you were, thinking “honor” meant, like, taking down a playground empire or something. 

but no, megumi’s just a kid with a sharp tongue and a little too much of toji’s attitude.

“damn right, kid,” toji says, patting megumi’s head, then looking over at you with that familiar, annoyingly smug grin. “raised him right, yeah?”

“...sure,” you say, because what else can you even say at this point? it’s like you’ve stumbled into the weirdest sitcom ever, and the laugh track is somehow missing.

the principal’s expression morphs into something almost painfully polite as she addresses you, tiptoeing around the word wife with an impressive mix of caution and curiosity. 

“are you, ah... megumi’s guardian?”

and then, in perfect, unplanned harmony, you, toji, and megumi all blurt out, “no.”

the unity, the instinctual synchronization — it’s like you’re all on the same wavelength, for better or worse. soul-level understanding, or something. 

what the hell is happening right now?

with a polite smile and a “let’s never speak of this again” nod, you three finally leave the principal’s office. megumi, looking more bored than reprimanded, flicks at a speck of lint on his uniform, while you and toji attempt to navigate the hallway swarming with concerned teachers and worried front-desk ladies. and by “concerned” and “worried,” it’s more like they’re curious about toji’s parenting style and, let’s be honest, probably toji himself.

“oh, mr. fushiguro!” one particularly invested teacher coos, “we heard about the incident. is everything all right?”

toji, of course, laps up the attention, chuckling low and throwing in a wink here and there like he’s starring in some kind of action-movie dad role. the ladies are practically falling over themselves to get a response from him, their questions barely veiled as they assess you with raised brows and sideways glances, a classic “who’s she?” written all over their faces.

“and you are...?” one of the front-desk ladies finally asks, voice all sugar-coated and sharp.

toji slides in smoothly, cutting off whatever half-formed, awkward introduction you were about to stammer out. “oh, she’s a colleague,” he says, his tone effortlessly suave, like introducing a perfectly respectable coworker and totally not the author of his last, extremely explicit audiobook project.

you’re almost grateful until it hits you — this is the same guy who made a whole production of calling you “princess” in the recording booth just yesterday. 

as if he hasn’t played one of your absurdly corny dragon kings in all his full-throttle intensity. 

and now he’s here, all casual and cool, giving you a proper, respectable title like he hasn’t spent hours voicing content these people probably keep hidden under their pillows at night.

but at least he didn’t out you as the actual author of those… creative pieces. 

that’s something.

toji is out here, doing his social service to society. and no, it’s not about lending his voice to steamy audiobooks, thank you very much. 

today, he’s serving the community by providing these teachers with a generous five minutes of his attention, which they’ll probably be replaying in their heads until the next parent-teacher meeting. and — oh, what a surprise! — that’s exactly what they’re talking about now, circling back to how he must come to the next one for a “serious discussion” about megumi.

toji’s stance? why bother? if the kid’s acing his tests, staying out of trouble (mostly), and keeping a lid on the whole “honor” thing, why does he need to sit through hours of polite lecturing from the pta?

while he’s busy justifying his lack of parental enthusiasm, you feel a pair of eyes on you. glancing down, you meet megumi’s steady, curious stare. 

it’s oddly intense for a kid his age, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. you narrow your eyes, feigning a critical, assessing look, and he visibly falters, going slightly pink around the ears.

ah, kids.

as you three make your way out of the building — toji still being all socialite with the staff and probably postponing that pta date indefinitely — you suddenly find yourself in a mini interview  with megumi. it’s as if this eight-year-old has appointed himself the gatekeeper of his dad’s life and has decided you’re the latest applicant.

“so… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with an unblinking, serious stare.

“uh…” you pause, realizing the weight of your answer here. “blue. like, uh, light blue.”

he nods, considering. “good answer.”

a pause. “favorite superhero?”

“batman?” you try, glancing at him for a sign of approval.

“hmm. fine. but iron man would’ve been better.”

noted, you think, as he then moves to cereal brand, favorite animal, and even your preferred subject in school. you navigate each question as best as you can, almost feeling the burn of a final exam.

then, in a moment of quiet, just as you think the quiz is over, megumi looks down and asks, voice barely a whisper, “did i… do the right thing? defending my… my hone-er?”

“your… oh, honor?” you say, a smile twitching at the corner of your mouth as you catch his wide-eyed, earnest gaze.

he nods, cheeks tinting a bit as he scuffs his sneaker on the ground.

“megumi,” you say, kneeling a little to get on his level, “defending your honor is important. just… maybe don’t go for all the punches next time? sometimes words work too.” you give him a playful nudge.

he nods, seeming satisfied with that answer, then glances over his shoulder. “and don’t tell daddy i asked.”

“your secret’s safe with me,” you whisper back, giving him a conspiratorial wink.

toji’s arms were crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched the little interaction between you and megumi. 

he was always careful about the people around his kid, fiercely protective to the point that very few in his line of work even knew megumi existed. the only ones who had ever met him were gojo and geto — and that was already a stretch.

but something about how you handled the kid’s questions, actually entertained them with the same patience he’d usually summon up himself, caught him off guard. the way you knelt down to answer him, even kept a straight face through the hard-hitting topics of favorite superheroes and cereal brands... it was surprisingly nice. 

almost… reassuring?

ugh, what was he even thinking? you were still the same girl who’d written, and he mentally cringed as he remembered the line, 

“dragons may have claws, but they’re nothing compared to the grip i have on your…” 

yeah, yeah, he really didn’t need to finish that thought. the memory alone had him chuckling under his breath, shaking his head.

of course, that earned him a suspicious glance from both you and megumi.

“what’s so funny?” you asked, brow raised.

“yeah, daddy, why’re you laughing?” megumi chimed in, clearly puzzled.

toji waved a hand dismissively, realizing he’d just blown his cool for no reason. 

“nothin’, don’t worry about it. just thinkin’,” he mumbled, aware he’d probably looked a little unhinged just then. 

maybe he really needed to work on his awareness — or maybe he just needed to get a grip, period.

toji’s mind was doing somersaults, genuinely debating if he could manage both you and megumi tagging along for the afternoon. megumi’s insistence didn’t help; kid was determined that toji should keep you both company for the rest of the day, despite having school hours left. 

“you’ve got work, right?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious. “aren’t you supposed to be off doing big, important actor things?”

toji only smirked, whipping out his phone with the sort of confidence that made it clear he had a workaround for everything. he tapped open a message to gojo, fingers moving fast.

you [11:31 am]: hey. kid’s dragging me to the arcade. need a few hours off. gojo s. [11:33 am]: need or WANT, toji? ;)) you [11:31 am]: like i said, KID is dragging me. gojo s. [11:33 am]: oh sure, blame megumi. what, does he have you wrapped around his little finger or something? you [11:31 am]: think whatever you want, but you’re handling my schedule for the rest of the day. gojo s. [11:33 am]: wait, are you with...the AUTHOR? ;)) you [11:31 am]: quit smiling through text, it’s creepy. gojo s. [11:33 am]: i’ll allow it. but only cause i’m such a good friend.  gojo s. [11:33 am]: tell megumi uncle gojo says hi  gojo s. [11:34 am]: and he owes me 20 bucks. you [11:35 am]: he doesn’t owe you anything. gojo s. [11:35 am]: fine, but bring me something from the prize counter.

satisfied, toji pocketed his phone and shrugged. 

“all right, kid. we’ll hang out for a bit. but i swear if you drag me into any embarrassing games —”

“arcade!” megumi interrupted, not even giving him a chance to finish. “i can show you both that i’m the best at every game! daddy taught me how to play, so you better watch out!”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the kid’s enthusiasm.

“all right, let’s go. but you better not make me look bad, kid,” toji said, smirking down at his son, who was now practically vibrating with eagerness.

“arcade!” megumi yelled again, nearly bouncing as he grabbed your hand and began to lead the way.

megumi barely lets you settle into the leather of the passenger seat before he’s bouncing in the back, practically vibrating with energy as he plugs toji’s phone into the aux. you’re trying to wrap your head around being in toji fushiguro’s car, the man who not only voices the romantic lead in your steamiest, most dramatic book but also owns a luxury car that could probably pay off your loans twice over.

"so, uh... passenger princess, huh?" toji smirks, catching you in mid-thought.

"i… what?" you stammer, feeling the heat creep up as he settles a hand on the wheel with all the nonchalance in the world. “i, uh —” but you’re cut off by megumi excitedly blasting his choice of artist: korn.

"your son listens to korn?" you blurt out, giving toji a mix of awe and disbelief.

toji just raises an eyebrow, deadpanning, “yours doesn’t?”

ouch. okay, fair point. 

because no, you do not have a kid, or a husband, or even a boyfriend…or any romantic prospects, really. 

toji’s question leaves you fidgeting as you try to muster a dignified response.

meanwhile, megumi is full-on screaming to the lyrics of "freak on a leash," and you catch snippets like “something takes a part of me!” which, yeah, relatable — korn is honestly hitting the mood. but of course, toji catches you staring out the window, attempting to look casual as he throws you a side-eye.

"so, what’s got you without a boyfriend?” he asks, way too casually, as if this was a natural segue from whatever korn-fueled karaoke session is happening in the backseat.

you practically choke on air. "what, me? no, i’m...," you laugh awkwardly, shifting in the passenger seat. “besides, i don’t meet many guys. i'm just… you know… doing my thing.”

megumi, pausing his headbanging just for a moment, turns and looks at you with an exaggerated ‘yikes’ face, as if being single was the worst possible fate in his young, eight-year-old eyes. 

but then he shrugs, clearly uninterested in this adult drama and goes back to screaming, “feeling like a freak on a leash!”

toji, still watching you, smirks, “so, doing your ‘thing’ includes no boyfriend, no husband... what, are you just swearing off men?”

"uh, no!” you say quickly, too quickly, and feel your face heat up. “just haven’t... y’know, met anyone worth dating. been busy.”

toji gives a low chuckle, clearly entertained. “busy doing what, writing your ‘torrid love stories’?”

you make a face, biting your lip. 

“they’re not that torrid.” but even as you say it, you hear the echo of a particularly cheesy line you’d written for his character in your novel, which, mortifyingly enough, involved the phrase “my darling flame, you set my very soul alight.”

toji chuckles, as if reading your thoughts. “maybe i’ll get to hear one of those lines in real life someday, princess.”

“can we not call me that while megumi’s in the car?” you mutter, glancing back, only to find megumi fully engrossed in his self-proclaimed vocal talents.

“noted.” toji snickers, shooting you another mischievous look as korn plays on, megumi happily singing about “breaking down” in the back.

“but hey,” toji says smoothly, hand resting on the gearshift, “just so you know, even my son knows a good band when he hears one.”

you roll your eyes at him, managing to mumble, “at least one of you is a bit mature.”

the porsche pulls up to the arcade with enough fanfare that heads start turning even before the engine purrs to a stop. not that the onlookers were ready for what steps out next: a towering, chiseled man looking like he’s on his way to a modeling photoshoot, a cute kid in full confidence mode, and, well… you.

still feeling a little dizzy from the korn concert that just took place, you barely register megumi bolting out of the car with a grin, leaving you and toji to get your bearings. his energy’s practically crackling by the time toji pays for the play card, and you’re pretty sure if he has to wait even one more minute, he’s about to combust.

“okay, okay, slow down, megumi,” you say, trying to keep up as he yanks you to the nearest neon-lit game. 

but the kid isn’t hearing it. he’s already dragging you to one machine, and then the next, moving faster than you can process where you even are. each one is seemingly more intense and blinding than the last, and you’re hit with a sensory overload of neon lights, retro game sounds, and the feel of the arcade carpet sticking just a little too much to your shoes.

toji’s watching the whole ordeal with a bemused smirk. you and his kid are like a whirlwind of neon and laughter, barely stopping to catch your breaths between games. the sight is somehow… comforting. like a scene from a life he hadn’t planned but couldn’t help finding strangely compelling.

but then he catches himself. seriously? 

he shakes his head. this is not the time to get all sentimental over his kid’s new ‘playdate’ or whatever. 

he’s just here because megumi insisted, and maybe he thought it’d be amusing to watch you get dragged around by an eight-year-old with zero restraint. that’s it. 

nothing more.

yeah, right. his internal grumbling comes to an abrupt stop as he watches megumi take your hand and pull you over to a classic claw machine. the kid’s looking up at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen, all excitement and pure innocence, like winning one of those knockoff plush toys is the pinnacle of existence.

“you got this?” you ask, grinning at him as he lines up the claw with intense concentration.

“of course! my dad showed me,” he declares, like he’s about to go pro in the claw game league.

toji, watching from a distance, feels a twinge in his chest. 

yeah, he’d shown megumi how to play this game ages ago, more to give him an edge over the other kids than anything else. it was a dad-and-son thing, just the two of them. but seeing megumi look up at you with the same pride and excitement makes him feel… something. 

and he doesn’t know if he likes it.

you’re so focused on megumi’s moves that you don’t notice toji’s slight frown, nor do you hear his quiet mutter of, “this is ridiculous.” 

but when he sees the way your eyes light up as megumi successfully nabs a cheap stuffed animal — a lopsided dinosaur, of all things — and the way you celebrate like he’s won an olympic medal, he feels himself relax, just a little.

he chuckles, shaking his head and crossing his arms as you high-five megumi, both of you beaming over a prize that probably cost less than the game itself. but toji doesn’t move. 

he stands there, rooted, as you two bounce from game to game, his thoughts too jumbled to focus on anything else.

but maybe… maybe that’s okay for now.

toji’s phone buzzes just as he’s leaning against the side of a vintage racing game, watching you and megumi practically lighting up the whole arcade with your laughter. he glances down to see satoru’s name pop up on the screen, already feeling a headache brewing.

gojo s. [12:20 pm]: so, arcade? 😏 you [12:20 pm]: yeah, i just told you. gojo s. [12:20 pm]: nah, i mean WHY the arcade? what are we celebrating here, toji? ;)) you [12:21 pm]: why does it matter gojo s. [12:21 pm]: CUZZZZ gojo s. [12:21 pm]: lemme guess, megumi's there with her now, right?  gojo s. [12:22 pm]: bet they’re having the time of their lives, while YOU gojo s. [12:22 pm]: you’re just there all moody on the sidelines😔

toji glances up at you and megumi, who’ve now moved on to a skee-ball machine, both cheering as you score a perfect 50-point throw.

you [12:23 pm]: like i said, work stuff. gojo s. [12:24 pm]: HAHA. work stuff, right.  gojo s. [12:24 pm]: work stuff that has megumi running around grinning like that.  gojo s. [12:25 pm]: bro gojo s. [12:25 pm]: you’re terrible at lying.  gojo s. [12:26 pm]: she’s a keeper if she can deal with YOU you [12:26 pm]: keep dreaming.

he slips his phone back into his pocket, unable to shake off the grin creeping onto his face as he watches you high-five megumi. the kid’s happier than he’s seen in ages, and he…

well, he can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed watching anyone just being with his kid.

toji stands back, taking in the moment — megumi’s laughter echoing through the arcade, your smile as you lift him up with an ease that has the kid giggling uncontrollably — and for some reason, his mind has turned the whole scene into a rom-com montage.

you are the dancing queen…

it’s absurd, really. 

he doesn’t even like abba. but there it is, the stupid song playing in his head, all set to the image of you holding his son, twirling him like he weighs nothing, both of you in fits of laughter.

young and sweet, only seventeen…

and for a split second, his heart does this awkward little stutter. 

he chalks it up to the neon lights. 

or maybe the greasy smell of the arcade food messing with his senses. but as he watches you hold megumi up, almost as if he’s flying, he can’t ignore that ridiculous, cheesy pull in his chest.

feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah...

oh god. 

is he seriously catching himself grinning at the way you’re both trying to get him to join in? megumi’s little hand reaches out, beckoning him over, and you’re giving him that smile, that “come on, get over here, big guy” look.

you can dance, you can jive…

the song hits that soaring note in his head just as he finally gives in and starts to walk over, and his pulse actually picks up, as if he’s not just at some run-down arcade but in the middle of some ridiculously sappy rom-com finale.

having the time of your life…

and then megumi is shrieking again, calling, “dad, hurry up!” like it’s life or death, and you’re beaming at him with that mischievous, encouraging look.

toji sighs, shaking his head at himself. 

just great. 

the two of you have officially dragged him into your world, soundtrack and all.

toji's trying his best to lock in. 

but as he walks out of the arcade — juggling not one, but four oversized plushies, two fancy new lego sets, a slinky, a bouncy ball, some glow-in-the-dark slime, and a rainbow slap bracelet — he can’t help but snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it. 

between his loaded arms and megumi curled up fast asleep in yours, it’s a scene straight out of one of those cheesy family movies.

he shakes his head, trying to push down that weirdly warm feeling creeping up on him. 

stay focused, toji. 

he doesn't need any sappy feelings right now. he's a single dad with a kid and a job, not some washed-up rom-com character, damn it. 

but watching you gently adjust megumi as he drools onto your shoulder, snuggling deeper into the crook of your arm as you carefully slide into the backseat, it’s hard not to feel that tug again.

ugh, he thinks, climbing into the driver’s seat as you buckle up up front, giving him a soft, tired smile. 

“never held a kid before, huh?” he teases, eyes glancing from the road to the rearview mirror, where megumi’s still dozing, soft breaths muffling against your arm.

“nope,” you shrug, but there’s a softness to your voice as you gently rub megumi’s back, “first time for everything, i guess.”

toji’s heart does that weird skip thing again. 

oh god, he thinks, gripping the wheel a little tighter as he tries to ignore the sappy old man vibe overtaking him.

the air in the car feels... charged, but it’s not like either of you are exactly leaning into the tension. instead, you both sit in this weird, awkward silence, save for the quiet hum of the radio, like you’re suddenly too aware of just being there with each other.

and then, as if the universe wanted to toy with you, iris by the goo goo dolls starts playing. 

oh, god. you immediately wish you could just evaporate into the passenger seat.

“...and i’d give up forever to touch you…” the lyrics croon, filling the silence, and you can practically feel the heat crawling up your cheeks.

toji clears his throat, obviously catching it too. “radio’s on a roll, huh?”

“yep,” you say, managing a weak laugh. “i mean, this is classic… everyone listens to goo goo dolls in, uh, total silence in the car with their coworker, right?”

he glances at you, a rare, subtle smile ghosting on his lips. “totally normal.”

“and i don’t want the world to see me… ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

you glance out the window, eyes focused anywhere but on him, biting back a laugh at how the song somehow keeps getting more dramatic. like, who’s writing this scene, seriously?

“just tell me where to turn,” toji says, breaking through your internal monologue, and you do, mentioning a landmark close to home, hoping he’ll take the hint.

but toji only raises an eyebrow. “near it? nah. i’m dropping you at the door.”

“oh, no, that’s really fine —” you start, but he’s already shaking his head.

“don’t worry about it,” he insists, a smirk in his voice. “besides, i remember where you live. from, you know… last time.”

wait. last time? as in… when you were embarrassingly, unapologetically wasted that night?

you want to crawl under the seat as the lyrics continue, “when everything’s made to be broken…”

so when toji pulls up in front of your apartment, there’s this odd feeling hanging in the air. you catch yourself wanting to... linger, just a little longer, even if you’re home. 

and lowkey? 

so does toji. 

it’s like the two of you have hit this weird teenage crush level of awkward — just leaning, leaning, like there’s some invisible string pulling you closer.

he’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him, and you’re both just… stuck there. you can’t even bring yourself to reach for the door handle, and it’s the same for him.

but right as the moment peaks, a tiny, innocent voice cuts through from the backseat. “are you two going to kiss?”

megumi’s question hangs there, blunt and childlike, breaking whatever spell had you both frozen. you both jolt back, blinking as if you just woke up.

“what? no!” you blurt, practically tripping over your own denial. 

your face feels like it’s about to catch fire.

toji coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, just barely suppressing a chuckle.

“kid’s got a helluva imagination,” he mutters, eyes anywhere but on you.

as you finally reach for the door handle, ready to slip out and say your goodbyes, you hear a little sniffle from the backseat.

“wait…” megumi’s voice is tiny, almost shaky. you turn around, and to your surprise, his face is scrunched up, his eyes glistening with tears that he’s trying so hard to hold back.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, twisting around in your seat to face him. “i’ll see you again, kiddo.”

but his lower lip wobbles, and suddenly he bursts into full-on tears, clutching the giant plushie he won at the arcade. “b-but i don’t want you to leave!” he sobs, voice cracking. “can’t you stay just a little longer?”

toji’s eyes widen; he looks genuinely shocked. 

“megumi, you’re fine, she’s not going anywhere forever. what’s gotten into you?” he tries to keep his tone steady, but there’s an undercurrent of surprise. 

megumi doesn’t cry. 

ever. 

this is new territory.

megumi just shakes his head, burying his face into the plushie. “but she’s nice,” he mumbles, muffled but insistent. “and she plays games with me and —” he peeks out from the plushie with red, teary eyes. “and she talks to me like you do.”

you feel something stir in your chest at his words, this overwhelming urge to hug him even though you’d sworn up and down just an hour ago you didn’t know how to handle kids.

“aw, megumi,” you say softly, reaching over and giving his little hand a squeeze. “i’ll still see you, i promise. maybe we can even play again sometime, okay?”

“but you’re leaving now,” he says, his voice quivering, clutching your hand with a desperation that tugs at your heart. 

“and daddy didn’t even kiss you.”

the absolute silence that follows is deafening. 

you feel your face go redder than it’s ever been, and a glance at toji shows he’s equally flustered, mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find some way to steer this conversation back to normal.

“whoa, hey now,” toji says, forcing a laugh as he clears his throat. “that’s, uh — that’s not how it works, kid.” he ruffles megumi’s hair a little too hard, clearly floundering. “and hey, don’t go crying over someone just leaving for the night, you’re stronger than that.”

“i don’t care,” megumi sniffles, clutching your hand tighter. “i like her. and she makes you smile.”

toji freezes, the color draining from his face for just a split second. 

makes him smile. 

he doesn’t even realize he’s been smiling, maybe more in one day than he has in months. he glances at you, brow furrowed like he’s trying to make sense of it himself.

“well…” toji’s voice is softer now, almost cautious, like he’s testing out words he hasn’t said in a long time. “

maybe… maybe she could come around again. if she wants to, that is.”

“i do.” you answer without thinking, your gaze drifting to megumi’s tear-streaked face, which immediately lights up.

“really?” megumi’s eyes shine, practically bouncing in his seat. “you promise?”

“i promise,” you say with a smile, giving him a reassuring nod. “as long as it’s okay with you and your dad, of course.”

“’s fine,” toji grumbles, running a hand over his face to hide his slight grin. “besides, someone’s gotta teach you a lesson or two at the arcade next time.”

“is that a challenge, toji?” you quip, smirking. “because if i remember right, megumi here got more tickets than both of us combined.”

“that’s because i taught him everything he knows,” toji scoffs, rolling his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s even entertaining this.

megumi sniffles one last time, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “then… you’ll come over soon, right?”

“absolutely,” you say, warmth bubbling up in your chest as you meet his hopeful gaze. “but only if you promise to keep practicing at the arcade. gotta keep that winning streak going, right?”

megumi grins, finally letting go of your hand as he settles back with a contented sigh. “deal.”

toji just shakes his head, muttering something about the “drama” gene clearly skipping a generation, though the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.

as you unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to say goodbye, you feel the car click with the unmistakable sound of the child lock. you glance back at megumi, who’s nodding off against his plushie pile, and back at toji, who’s already climbing out to walk you up to your door. 

gentlemanly of him, sure. 

though, the way his eyes linger on you… there’s more to it than that.

“i could’ve walked myself, you know,” you say, falling into step beside him as you head up to your building. “it’s not that far.”

“maybe i just felt like making sure you didn’t trip and embarrass yourself,” he shoots back, smirking as he nudges your shoulder.

“very chivalrous, fushiguro,” you reply, rolling your eyes but grinning anyway. “honestly, you’re like a walking textbook definition of ‘gentleman.’”

“yeah, well,” he clears his throat, looking just a bit smug. “maybe i was raised right. or maybe,” his voice drops a little lower, “i just wanted an excuse to stick around a little longer.”

you blink, caught off guard by the soft rasp in his voice, the way his eyes are just a bit darker under the porch light.

“oh,” is all you manage, though your heartbeat’s doing a little somersault. “well… uh. here’s my door.”

“guess it is,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he takes a step closer, leaning against the doorframe like he’s meant to be there, like he’s settled in the idea of being right here, with you. 

“y’know… not a bad place to end the night.”

“yeah,” you say, feeling the words catch in your throat as you gaze up at him, taking in every detail, every shadow. “definitely not bad.”

the two of you are just standing there, a little too close, the space between you narrowing with every unspoken word. he glances down at your lips, and your pulse spikes — he’s thinking it too, right? but just as the moment seems to reach its tipping point, toji smirks, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

“you know,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “still can’t believe you’re the same girl who wrote that… what was it again?” he chuckles, clearly remembering. “oh, right — ‘her legs wrapped around him like a vice, his name spilling from her lips like honey’.”

your face goes nuclear. 

that line. 

of all the lines, that one?

“you… you remember that?” you manage, mortified.

“’course i remember,” he says, that smug smirk firmly in place. “you think i just skimmed through your stuff?”

“well — i — ” your words are a mess, barely coherent. “i mean, i just thought —”

“nah, i’ve been reading it all.” his voice is low, almost a whisper as he leans just a little closer, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “you’ve got quite the imagination.”

“s-shut up,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “i was just… doing my job.”

“i know,” he says, voice soft but unyielding. “you’ve got talent.”

there’s a beat, silence stretching between you, the weight of his words settling over the both of you.

“...and you’ve got this whole heartthrob thing going for you,” you blurt out, finally meeting his eyes with a nervous laugh. “kind of makes it hard to believe you’re my colleague.”

“heartthrob, huh?” he smirks, voice dipping lower as his fingers drift to your chin, tilting your face up. 

“so that’s what you think of me?”

“i — i mean…” you stammer, your heart racing as you look into his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. “maybe a little. just… a tiny bit.”

“tiny?” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch away. “could’ve sworn you looked a little more than just ‘tiny’ interested.”

“oh yeah?” your voice is a whisper now, almost breathless as you feel his breath on your skin, his gaze never wavering. “what if i was?”

“then i’d probably do this,” he mutters, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, and before you know it, his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly gentle.

your breath catches, and instinctively, you lean into him, letting his kiss deepen, his hand tracing slow, lazy patterns against your cheek. it’s everything you’d imagined and somehow even better, his presence grounding and electric all at once.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes soft but searching. “so… do i still get to be a heartthrob?”

“only if i still get to be the girl with the cringe smut,” you murmur back, grinning like an idiot.

“deal,” he says, chuckling as he pulls you in for another kiss, his lips brushing yours like a promise.

ah, shit.

as toji slips back into the car, he barely manages to close the door before megumi’s voice hits him like a lightning bolt.

“daddy kissed the pretty lady!” megumi shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger from the backseat. “i saw it! you have that weird face on!”

toji’s eyebrows shoot up. “weird face? what weird face?” he tries to play it cool, adjusting the rearview mirror, but the ghost of that kiss is still painted on his lips, his pulse betraying him with every beat.

“that smile,” megumi says, wrinkling his nose in a perfect mirror of his dad’s usual expression of disdain. “you look like a… like a…” he pauses, searching for the right words. “...like a love puppy!”

toji chokes, stifling a laugh. “a love puppy? where the hell did you get that from?”

“it’s a thing, daddy,” megumi huffs, crossing his arms. “you have that goofy look, and your face is all soft. you only look like that when you’re being weird.”

“me? weird?” toji glances in the mirror, catching megumi’s glare. “kid, i think you’ve got this all wrong.”

“no, i don’t!” megumi insists, practically bouncing in his seat. “you were all ‘goo-goo eyes’ and ‘smoochy-smoochy’ and ‘mwah mwah mwah!’” he makes exaggerated kissing sounds, complete with squished-up lips and hand gestures, utterly scandalized by his dad’s sudden transformation.

“alright, alright, enough with the ‘mwah mwah.’” toji tries to suppress a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’ve been watching too many cartoons.”

megumi shakes his head, his expression serious. “nope. i knew it. i knew you liked her.” he narrows his eyes, as if seeing through toji’s very soul. “so… are you gonna marry her?”

toji’s eyes go wide. 

“whoa, whoa, hold on. nobody said anything about marriage.”

“but if you kiss someone, that means you wanna be with them forever, right?” megumi asks earnestly, looking way too wise for his age.

toji stares ahead, caught off-guard by the kid’s earnestness. 

that kiss… he didn’t plan it. he didn’t even know he was going to do it until he’d leaned in, felt the spark pull him closer. but now? 

yeah, the idea of just walking away feels… wrong. he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his mind racing.

“kid, sometimes people just… feel things, okay?” he says, his voice softer, more introspective. “even if they don’t really know why.”

megumi tilts his head, watching his dad closely. “so you do like her, then?”

toji snorts, pulling the car out onto the road. “alright, detective, settle down back there. no more snooping.”

they drive in a comfortable silence for a moment, but the radio has other plans. 

as if on cue, the familiar, aching chords of iris by the goo goo dolls come through the speakers, and toji swears he could feel the universe laughing at him.

“and i don’t want the world to see me, ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

toji clenches his jaw, feeling the lyrics press into him, each line stirring something restless and warm in his chest. he’s always been a guy with his walls up, always knew the stakes were too high to let anyone in. 

but tonight… tonight, he let his guard down. just for a second. 

he kissed you, tasted the softness of your lips, and the spark left him reeling.

“when everything’s meant to be broken, i just want you to know who i am…”

“daddy?” megumi’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “do you think… maybe you could see her again? so she could come play with us?”

toji blinks, glancing at megumi in the rearview mirror. “you really like her, huh?”

megumi nods vigorously. “yeah! she’s… nice. and fun.” his face softens. “and… she made you look happy.”

toji’s heart gives a strange, unfamiliar twist at that. 

happy, huh? 

he’s been around the block long enough to know that happiness isn’t exactly his best friend. but sitting here, listening to megumi, feeling that residual warmth from your kiss… it makes him wonder. 

wonder what life could look like with you in it.

but he pushes the thought away, focusing on the road. doesn’t change the fact that you’re just his colleague. right?

“and i’d give up forever to touch you…”

ugh.

he shifts uncomfortably, hoping megumi doesn’t notice his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. 

that kiss wasn’t just some fleeting thing — he’d known it the second he felt the warmth of you linger even after pulling away. the idea of letting you go now feels… impossible. something’s tugging him back, making him want more.

“hey, daddy,” megumi pipes up again, breaking toji’s brooding. “you got that look again.”

“what look?” toji mutters, trying to focus on anything but the goofy grin creeping back onto his face.

megumi smirks, mimicking toji’s soft expression. “that ‘i kissed a pretty lady’ look!”

toji laughs, shaking his head as he glances at megumi in the rearview mirror. “alright, alright. i guess you caught me.”

and as he drives home, the final notes of iris playing softly through the car, he can’t shake the feeling that this… whatever this is… isn’t something he’s ready to let go of.

ah, shit.

as soon as toji sets megumi down on his bed, tucking him in amongst the mountain of ridiculous plushies he’d somehow won at the arcade, he heads back to his room. sliding his phone out, he finds himself doing something he never thought he’d do: texting gojo. of all people.

with a reluctant sigh, he taps out a message, feeling a pang of embarrassment he can’t shake.

you [8:47 pm]: how long’s her contract with gojo sonic?

a moment later, he watches the screen, regretting even reaching out. but, of course, gojo wastes no time with a reply.

gojo s. [8:50 pm]: ohohohohooooo her contract???  gojo s. [8:50 pm]: i knew it. you’re smitten. you [8:51 pm]: don’t start. gojo s. [8:51 pm]: too late! c’mon, dish it out, big guy.  gojo s. [8:51 pm]: you guys had a moment, huh? the chemistry finally snapped? what’d ya do, kiss her?

toji clenches his jaw, hesitating before typing back. his thumb hovers, wondering how much grief he’d get for saying yes. finally, he mutters a curse under his breath and just goes for it.

you [8:53 pm]: ...yeah, i kissed her. happy?

he can practically feel gojo’s cackle vibrating through the phone.

gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WHAT???  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WAIT.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: oh, i need details.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: full play-by-play.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: like was it one of those slow, cinematic moments?  gojo s. [8:54 pm]: or was it a grab and smooch kinda deal??

toji rolls his eyes, fighting off a grin he refuses to admit is there. of all the reactions, he’d been prepared for gojo’s nosiness, but it’s still as annoying as ever.

you [8:55 pm]: shut it. i already said too much. gojo s. [8:55 pm]: pfffff as if i’m letting you get away with that tidbit and no context.  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did she look at you all wide-eyed?  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did you do that thing with your voice??  gojo s. [8:56 pm]: or was it just an accidental, “oh no, we tripped into each other’s faces” sorta thing?

toji rubs his temples, trying to block out how much his stupid heart rate picks up just remembering the way you looked up at him, the softness of your lips, the way it all felt so natural. he shakes his head, forcing the memory aside.

you [8:57 pm]: none of your business, and it’s private.  you [8:57 pm]: don’t you dare send any of this to suguru. gojo s. [8:57 pm]: oh relax! suguru’s not that nosy.  gojo s. [8:57 pm]: okay maybe he is.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: but he’s a romantic.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: think of it as getting free relationship coaching!! you [9:00 pm]: i swear to god satoru i’ll leave the company if you spill this.

there’s a pause, and for a second toji hopes that maybe he’s scared gojo off. 

but, predictably, the next message makes his blood pressure spike.

gojo s. [9:05 pm]: ohhhhh no no you’re not getting off that easy.  gojo s. [9:05 pm]: i’m calling dibs on being the flower girl at your wedding. suguru can be the maid of honor.  gojo s. [9:06 pm]: no nvm he’d wanna be the best man gojo s. [9:06 pm]: I’LL GET MEGUMI TO CARRY THE RINGS gojo s. [9:06 pm]: genius.

toji practically growls at his phone, already regretting every second of this conversation.

you [9:07 pm]: i’ll delete this whole damn thread. this never happened, got it? gojo s. [9:09 pm]: aww, toji bear, don’t be like that. i’ll take care of your little love story for you, promise. consider me your personal wingman.  gojo s. [9:10 pm]: now tell me this — when’s round two of smooch central happening? you [9:11 pm]: goodnight, satoru.

and with that, he shoves his phone onto his nightstand, rubbing his face with a hand. he can still feel the lingering warmth of that kiss, the way his heart skipped, the unexpected tenderness that’s lodged itself in his mind. 

stupid.

he shouldn’t have even told gojo.

but as much as he regrets letting it slip, he doesn’t regret the kiss itself. 

not even a bit.

as soon as you slam your door shut, you just… stand there for a minute, heart racing, and press your fingers to your lips like it’ll somehow reverse what just happened. 

you kissed toji fushiguro. 

the toji fushiguro.

colleague extraordinaire, with biceps that could probably benchpress your entire life’s savings, and that smirk… oh god, that smirk that had you in a daze.

but the problem? 

there was a mini him there. 

a little him with matching black hair and a sharp gaze. 

you thought he was, like, the cool uncle? but… he’s a dad? 

and if he’s a dad… does that mean he’s married? are you the other woman?!

you pace around, practically stomping into the carpet. 

“okay, okay, let’s think this through,” you mutter, putting your hands on your hips. 

“he… he could be a single dad, right? it’s 2024, it’s not that weird for people to have kids without, like, commitment commitments. but then again, he does look like the type who’d… i don’t know, maybe be exclusive? probably?”

your brain is racing, and you’re spinning yourself into circles. 

“i mean, i haven’t seen a ring on his finger… but maybe he just doesn’t wear it?” you plop down on your couch, practically sinking into it as you cover your face with both hands.

ugh.

“did i just kiss a married man? or worse… what if he’s, like, engaged? or has a live-in girlfriend? or — oh my god, what if he’s in some high-profile relationship and i just stepped into the middle of it? —”

you groan, flopping back. “but he… he definitely leaned in first. i’m not hallucinating. he did! but then, if he’s that willing to kiss me, does that mean he’s… a cheater?”

you sit up and shake your head, wide-eyed. “okay, no, i refuse to believe that toji fushiguro, mr. brooding and brooding-er with a kid who listens to korn, is a cheater. there’s no way… right?”

your own voice is almost pleading as you try to convince yourself, pacing again. 

“i mean, maybe he’s just… really, really committed to… being mysterious. yeah, that makes sense. he’s keeping everything a secret, so that just leaves me spiraling about him… perfect. just perfect.”

you smack a hand against your forehead. “why couldn’t i have asked literally any of this earlier?” you shake your head. “right, because i was too busy kissing him.”

you throw yourself back onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, the whole thing replaying in your head. 

that look he gave you, the warmth of his hand on your back…

stop.

but it’s too late. your brain keeps running with it.

“what if… what if he has no idea i’m freaking out?” you frown. “oh, he probably doesn’t. and here i am, making a whole drama out of one kiss.” you let out a deep sigh.

you flop onto your bed, heart still pounding, and stare up at the ceiling, fingers absently grazing your lips. 

burning loins, they said. melting from one kiss, they said. 

well, no one exactly said that — except every steamy novel you’ve ever read or written, but that’s beside the point.

you groan, kicking your feet up in frustration. this isn’t one of your own novels! it’s supposed to be real life! but now here you are, in the aftermath of what was arguably the best kiss you’ve ever had, practically combusting at the memory of it.

“if one kiss with toji — no, any man — can get me this hot and bothered, how am i supposed to handle it if i ever… you know…” your voice trails off, and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow as if it’ll smother the absurd train of thought. 

but then, just as you start to get your mind off it, his face pops back up in your head.

“oh god,” you mumble, pulling the pillow over your face. “this is pathetic.” you roll over again, laughing helplessly to yourself. 

if this is what one or two kisses do to me… what’ll happen if we actually have sex?

your eyes snap open. “okay, no. no! i didn’t mean toji, i meant, like… any guy! any guy at all! but, oh god, why is it always him?!”

you stare at the ceiling, huffing as your brain keeps looping back to him. 

his stupidly attractive smirk, the way his hand was firm but gentle on your back, how he looked at you as if you were his next breath. 

girl, get a grip.

“this is ridiculous,” you mutter, swatting at your face like it’ll erase his image from your mind. but it doesn’t work; he’s right there, all hot and smug in your imagination. ugh, this isn’t fair!

it’s like all those countless hours you spent spinning erotic fantasies are coming back to haunt you — and in the most inconvenient, infuriating way possible. you scrunch up your face, realizing with mild horror that maybe… just maybe… you wrote this scenario into existence for yourself.

“oh no… is this karma?” you groan, curling up and swatting the air in helpless embarrassment. “girl, this is not supposed to happen in real life. or with toji.”

but there it is: his face, and your wildly racing heart, and the undeniable, excruciating heat pooling in your belly that refuses to quit.

but even with the spiraling, there’s one thing you can’t deny: as much as it’s driving you crazy, as much as you’re practically scaring yourself into thinking you’ve just made the worst mistake of your life…

you kinda don’t regret it. and that’s the scariest part.

ah, shit.

you step into gojo-sonic, clutching your bag with a little more intensity than usual, and it’s as if you’ve entered an alternate dimension. 

the energy is somehow… different. you expect to be greeted with the usual casual nods and waves, but instead, gojo is practically skipping toward you, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming the new queen of the recording studio.

“there she is! our star of the show, our resident heart-throb wrangler!” he coos, louder than necessary. his grin is blinding, and you’re caught between the urge to backpedal out of the building or dive under the nearest desk.

“uh… good morning?” you reply, more like a question than a statement, glancing around to see if anyone else is picking up on his hyperness. it’s like he’s had twelve cups of coffee or ten bags of skittles. “gojo, you’re… kind of extra today.”

“extra? extra?” he throws a hand over his heart, eyes gleaming. “honey, i’m never just ‘extra.’ i am exactly the right amount of gojo for the occasion.”

“and what occasion is that, exactly?”

“oh, nothing much, just a certain someone having an… enlightening encounter last night,” he says with a wink so exaggerated it looks like he’s trying to shoo a bug off his face.

you stiffen. “wait, how do you…?”

“oh, come on,” he waves it off, laughing. “you think you can keep something like that from me? i mean, i might be blessed with an enormous amount of talent, looks, and charisma, but i also happen to have eyes and ears everywhere.” he taps his temple, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“seriously?” you glance around, your stomach sinking a little, looking for any sign of smirking coworkers or curious eyes, but everyone’s just… normal? going about their business, not sparing you a second glance. relief washes over you, only to be swept away by gojo’s piercing stare.

“oh, don’t worry. i haven’t shared your scandalous rendezvous with the world. only i am privy to this delightful information — for now,” he adds, wagging a finger. “and don’t look so shocked! nothing juicy stays hidden from me for long. i know all the company secrets.”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks, equal parts exasperated and embarrassed. “gojo, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. it’s not like…” you trail off, realizing he’s hanging on to your every word, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“uh-huh,” he drawls, drawing the word out. “not a big deal, you say? then why do you look like you’re about to start sweating bullets?”

“i’m not sweating bullets,” you say through clenched teeth, then give in and sigh. “look, we just… it was just a… i mean, we’re colleagues, and things got a little… friendly. it doesn’t have to mean anything!”

gojo gasps, mock-horrified. “oh, but darling, this is precisely why it’s so interesting! you, of all people, getting caught up with toji fushiguro? and here i thought you’d sworn off office romances.”

“it’s not an office romance,” you insist, voice practically a whisper. “we just… kissed. once. or twice. maybe. but it doesn’t mean anything!”

gojo leans in, conspiratorially. “and yet you look ready to combust from the inside out just talking about it.”

you huff, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “maybe it’s because someone is making this into a bigger deal than it actually is.”

“you wound me!” he presses a hand dramatically to his chest, giving you an exaggerated pout. “but don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me. i only told you so you’d know that i know. and, you know, to make things extra awkward in case mr. heart-throb walks in.”

“oh, so you’re really just out to make my life difficult?”

he grins, all teeth. “precisely.”

just then, as if summoned by some cruel twist of fate, toji strolls in. he’s the absolute picture of normalcy, no hint whatsoever of last night’s… moment. 

in fact, he gives you a polite nod, a polite nod, as if he hadn’t had you pressed against your own door just hours ago.

“morning,” he says casually, voice smooth, tone nonchalant. he doesn’t even so much as smirk.

you nearly choke. polite nod? normal greeting? did he forget the entire thing? 

“oh, morning,” you manage, clearing your throat, feeling like you’re about to combust again.

gojo, however, is having the time of his life. he’s practically vibrating next to you, watching the exchange with glee.

“morninggg, fushiguro,” he greets toji, voice syrupy with unrestrained glee. “any exciting news today?”

toji raises an eyebrow, shooting him a confused look. “uh, no? everything’s pretty normal.” his eyes flick over to you, calm, almost neutral, as if he hadn’t kissed you senseless just last night.

you clench your jaw. is he really going to act like this? you nearly feel like gaslighting yourself into thinking last night never happened. maybe you just dreamed it, right?

toji’s gaze flicks away from you, unperturbed, as he moves over to get his things ready for the day’s recording. and that’s when gojo leans over and mutters under his breath, “you sure you don’t want to just… remind him?”

“i hate you,” you mutter back, trying not to smile, knowing that he’s secretly rooting for you to fall flat on your face with this whole ordeal.

“i live for your misery, my friend,” he replies with a wink.

meanwhile, toji was absolutely in another dimension of romcom chaos himself, feeling like some kind of high school kid who just had his first crush. he woke up grinning, actually giggling as he got dressed. 

giggling. when was the last time he did that? 

he nearly skipped out the door, and on his drive to work, he found himself humming, humming, to his car stereo like some lovestruck fool. and he didn’t stop there. oh no. 

by the time he reached gojo-sonic, he’d already run through a few extra vocal warm-ups in the car — something he never did this early. he cleared his throat and ran through his usual lines twice, even testing his pitch a bit. no, not because he wanted to be extra smooth today, of course not. he was doing it for the… for the paycheck. 

definitely.

but as soon as he walked into the studio, and he saw you standing there beside gojo, looking all kinds of pretty and polished… he practically heard violins. except no, it wasn’t violins. 

it was, somehow, worse.

his mind cued up dancing queen.

“no. nope. nope.” he muttered under his breath, trying to swat the ridiculous soundtrack out of his mind. but it wouldn’t stop. 

“dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine, oh, yeah….”

why, in the name of all things sacred, was his brain doing this to him? he was toji fushiguro, not some idiot falling over his own feet for a girl at work. he gave himself a good shake, squared his shoulders, and tried to keep his composure. yet every time he caught your eye, his chest did a little flip — and dammit if he didn’t want to just pick you up and give you another kiss right then and there.

“morning,” he forced out, nodding as casually as he could.

and there you were, gaping back with that hint of nervousness, looking like you might combust from just a regular “good morning.” 

god, it was almost cute enough to make him actually laugh out loud.

“she’s just a colleague,” he reminded himself, over and over again, as he worked to keep the grin off his face. “a colleague. not some romcom lead you just made out with in front of her apartment.”

yet the way dancing queen kept droning in his head, as if mocking his every move? toji was seriously questioning whether he’d woken up in some kind of alternate reality.

and he just knew gojo was watching the whole thing with a smug look, likely dying to crack a joke, or worse, belt out dancing queen if he somehow figured out what was in toji’s head. 

and knowing gojo? he probably already had.

the studio door clicked shut as gojo swept out with an exaggerated bow, holding up his finger in a silent “one minute” before he launched into his call with suguru in a voice loud enough to be heard two floors down. gojo was probably already going on about the “incredible chemistry” between his favorite team members, or whatever nonsense he’d decided on for today. 

and with him out of the room, it was just you and toji. 

alone. 

in silence.

you shifted on your feet, eyes darting everywhere except directly at him, yet somehow landing right back on him. it was like your brain had a toji magnet switched on, and no matter how hard you tried to look elsewhere, you found yourself glancing back at him.

finally, the quiet got so charged that you both ended up blurting out at the exact same time —

“are you single?”

you both froze, then looked at each other, wide-eyed, like you couldn’t believe you’d just asked that out loud.

“uh,” toji coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “well. yeah, i am. single, that is.

“oh.” you tried to act cool, but it came out as a slightly breathless squeak. “good to know.”

“and you?” he asked, voice low, almost cautious, as if bracing himself for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“also single,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. “which… is also good to know.”

there was a beat of quiet where you both just kind of looked at each other, a half-smile creeping onto his face as you kept shifting on your feet, practically melting under the intensity of his gaze.

“so…” you cleared your throat, your hands fidgeting a little as you gathered the nerve to ask the next thing. “didn’t know you had a kid.”

“oh, yeah.” toji chuckled, a hint of fondness lighting up his expression as he thought of his son. “he’s my kid, alright. handful and a half, that one.”

“he’s adorable.” you smiled, thinking back to the mini toji who had totally stolen your heart. “how old is he?”

“eight.” toji’s voice softened, a rare warmth in his tone that you’d never heard before. “he, uh… he means a lot to me. not that i’d ever tell him that, though. don’t want him thinking he’s got me wrapped around his little finger or anything.”

you laughed, picturing the little boy with his big grin and fearless energy. “something tells me he already knows.”

“yeah, probably.” toji laughed too, and for a moment, there was an ease between you, a shared warmth that made the whole moment feel so… natural.

“so… um, are you, like… a single dad?” you asked, careful with your words, not wanting to pry too deeply.

“yeah.” his answer was simple, but there was a weight to it. “just me and the kid. been that way for a while.”

“that’s…” you bit your lip, not sure what to say without sounding weirdly sentimental. “that’s admirable. megumi’s lucky to have you.

“i don’t know about all that,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise but unable to hide a small smile. “just doing what i can, you know?”

“still,” you said, feeling a swell of admiration you hadn’t expected. “it’s impressive. and honestly… seeing you with him yesterday? it was… kinda heartwarming.”

toji looked at you, eyes softening in a way that made your heart stutter. 

“thanks,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “means a lot, hearing that.”

the two of you stood there, closer than you realized, in this weird bubble where everything felt warm and intense and perfect. just as you felt that strange magnetic pull drawing you closer, like maybe you’d just close the gap and —

the studio door banged open.

“don’t stop on my account!” gojo sing-songed, practically sashaying back into the room, a smirk plastered across his face.

you both leaped back, clearing your throats and suddenly finding the walls, the floor, anything else in the room utterly fascinating.

“alright, lovebirds, let’s get this recording started, shall we?” gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked between the two of you, not even pretending he hadn’t just caught a whole moment.

toji settled into the recording booth, leaning back in the chair with the script in hand, his voice dipping to that low, gravelly tone that made every line sound like an invitation.

“so,” he began, speaking as the dragon king to the main character in the script, his words practically dripping with intensity, “you think you can resist me? i see right through you… even the bravest warriors have trembled at my touch.”

your breath caught as he delivered the line, eyes wide as you watched him through the glass. 

you couldn’t help it — his character was practically staring into your soul, voice thick and slow, practically wrapping around each word.

“do you know what happens to those who challenge me?” toji continued, his eyes narrowing as he held the script in one hand, his gaze piercing. “they are forced to surrender… one way or another.”

outside the booth, you practically felt yourself melting, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you fidgeted with the edge of your shirt. 

toji’s voice, his delivery — it was all too much. how was it possible for him to sound that… that intense? it was like he was actually speaking to you.

“ah, beautiful.” gojo, standing beside you, broke in with a theatrical sigh. “our dragon king sounds magnificent, doesn’t he? i could practically faint!”

you shot him a quick glare, barely masking a smirk. “keep it down, gojo. he’s in the middle of it.”

“oh, i’m just here to appreciate the artistry,” gojo whispered back, feigning innocence as he leaned in to watch, hands clasped together dramatically.

“the choice is yours,” toji went on, his voice softer now, laced with something tender that made it impossible to look away. “join me… or keep pretending this —” he emphasized the word, letting it linger “ — isn’t exactly what you’ve been wanting.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the glass. 

was he delivering that line as the dragon king or as… well, toji?

but then —

“ohhhh!” gojo chimed in loudly, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck by an arrow. “the passion! the romance! our hero’s heart is pounding!”

toji paused, rolling his eyes as he looked at gojo through the glass. “you really gonna keep interrupting, gojo?”

“oh, don’t mind me,” gojo said, waving a hand. “i’m simply enjoying the magic in the air! please, carry on. do go on.” he pretended to dab at his eyes. “so moving.”

toji gave a small sigh but threw you a barely-there smile before settling back into character.

“and when you finally stop running…” his voice softened, a quiet urgency threading through it. 

“i’ll be here, waiting… because you belong to me, whether you admit it or not.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself leaning in, hanging onto every word, caught up in the sheer pull of his voice. 

you didn’t know if it was his talent as a voice actor, the lines he was reading, or him, but every word was drawing you in deeper, bit by bit.

“ah, what is it like to be so passionately claimed by a dragon king? how riveting!” gojo murmured dramatically, as if providing a play-by-play to an audience. “she’s helpless, entranced! they both know she’s falling!”

toji cast a pointed look at gojo, barely concealing a smirk. “you done yet, gojo?”

gojo merely grinned, shrugging. “hey, i’m just here to make sure the romance shines through. and oh, don’t worry — it’s definitely shining.”

toji rolled his eyes but kept going, lowering his voice to a rumbling murmur. “if you don’t know where your heart lies, then i’ll show you.” 

he paused, his words lingering in the air like a promise, like he was speaking directly to you.

by now, the studio felt suffused with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. it didn’t help that every time gojo piped in with another comment, it only made you feel more painfully aware of every detail: the way toji’s gaze kept flickering your way, the way your own pulse raced faster with each line he spoke.

“the truth is right in front of you,” toji continued, his voice dropping low, rough, something smoldering behind each word. “all you have to do is reach out… and claim it.”

“gorgeous! breathtaking!” gojo burst out, clapping his hands loudly. “i can practically see the sparks flying! ah, young love!”

toji finally broke character, raising a brow at gojo with a look of pure exasperation. “you gonna let me finish or not?”

gojo waved a hand. “fine, fine. but for real — if you two don’t kiss after this, i might have to stage a re-shoot.”

both you and toji threw your hands up simultaneously, voices raised in exasperation. 

“gojo, would you please stop interrupting!”

“yeah, seriously, man,” toji added, shaking his head as he glanced over at you with a shared look of pure frustration.

“okay, okay! sheesh!” gojo shrieked, actually shrieked, as he staggered back in mock terror, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “all i wanted was to witness some workplace romance! is that so wrong?”

“yes, gojo, very wrong,” you shot back, rubbing your temples. “this is literally supposed to be professional — you should know that.”

toji snorted, crossing his arms as he smirked at gojo. “for once, i agree. you’ve got all the dramatic flair of a middle-schooler.”

“excuse me,” gojo replied, flipping an imaginary hair strand over his shoulder. “i’ll have you know my artistic eye is very advanced.” he let out a huff, but from the grin on his face, you could tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

you shook your head, exasperated. “look, can we just get this recording done without any more —”

“interruptions,” toji finished for you, raising a brow as he glanced over at gojo.

“fine, fine!” gojo finally backed off, dramatically sliding into a chair in the corner, arms folded in mock offense. “i’ll be silent as a stone. a beautiful, thoughtful stone.”

you exchanged another look with toji, both of you sighing in unison. 

something told you both that it was going to be a very long day, especially with gojo’s creative direction…

toji, after finishing a solid block of recording, had ended up chatting with the sound techs, leaving you flipping through your phone while you waited. 

gojo, in his usual meddling fashion, suddenly brightened up and declared, “oh! why don’t you have a little chat with suguru? i told him you were here. he insisted on saying hello!”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh, sure?”

gojo sent you a link to join the video call, and soon suguru’s face popped up on the screen. his calm expression softened slightly when he saw you. “well, hello there. gojo wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had a new ‘star’ at the studio.”

you laughed, feeling a bit flustered. “thanks, geto! i hear you’re a partner at a... famous wine company?”

suguru gave a modest shrug. “yeah, it’s called persephone. it’s a small project that grew bigger than i expected. i handle a lot of the sourcing and marketing — keeps me away from here most of the time.”

“persephone? i’ve heard great things about it!” you said, genuinely impressed. “the way gojo talks about it, it sounds like a pretty big deal.”

he chuckled, glancing to the side as if recalling memories. “i started it with a... friend, actually. she was passionate about wine and had a vision that i couldn’t help but support. i guess i have a soft spot for her, and i... well, care about her a lot.”

you felt your heart warm a little at his sincerity, and the slight hesitation when he spoke of his partner. “it sounds like you two have something special going on,” you said, offering a supportive smile. “i’m sure she appreciates everything you do, especially with how involved you are. and honestly? best of luck. that kind of partnership sounds really meaningful.”

suguru gave a small nod, a faint, appreciative smile on his face. 

“thank you. i think she’d like you. maybe one day, if you ever make it out here for one of gojo’s wild wine-tasting parties, we can all meet up.”

“i’d love that!” you replied, already imagining how intriguing that partnership might be. and as you finished up the conversation, it struck you that you’d gotten a glimpse of a different side of suguru — one he clearly didn’t reveal often.

toji hadn’t meant to get distracted, but the second he saw you on a video call with suguru, laughing over whatever he was saying, he couldn’t help it. he’d been halfway listening to the sound tech drone on about waveform patterns, but all of that faded when he caught sight of you smiling on-screen. 

who exactly were you talking to like that? why did you look so happy?

the tech was still talking beside him, but toji’s focus was elsewhere. 

suguru. 

that damn calm, collected face of his. 

the same suguru who he’d seen only sparingly around the company, mostly through gojo’s random updates, but who was still one of the few people gojo actually respected.

toji squinted, his jaw tightening as he took a few steps toward you and pretended it was a casual stroll.

why was he doing this? it wasn’t like he had any claim on you, right? 

sure, there was that one kiss — or, well, those two kisses, actually. 

but still. 

he was a grown man, not some jealous kid. yet here he was, feeling like he had to size up suguru over a damn screen.

before he even realized it, toji had closed the distance. without asking, he leaned over your shoulder, practically shoving his face into the camera view as he met suguru’s face.

“hey, suguru,” he drawled, and the way his voice came out a little gruff didn’t escape him. “didn’t know you were interrupting a busy studio day here.”

you blinked, wide-eyed at his sudden closeness, but toji kept his eyes on suguru, ignoring your flustered reaction. suguru looked almost amused, raising an eyebrow at toji’s unannounced intrusion.

“toji. i’m just saying hi to the new talent here,” suguru replied with a smooth smile, clearly unfazed. “i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me meeting one of satoru’s top finds.”

“top find?” toji scoffed, feeling a weird pang at the words. “i’m the one doing all the work here.”

you shot him a look, somewhere between surprised and amused. “toji —”

but he just grunted and kept going, ignoring your attempt to intervene. “so, suguru, been busy with all that wine business, huh?” he went on, as if suguru’s whole life story had suddenly become his priority.

“pretty much,” suguru replied, a slight smirk in his tone. “it’s been keeping me busy, and i have a…close partner who keeps me grounded. speaking of which,” he turned his gaze to you with an amused smile, “she was the one who started persephone. i’m really just there to support her vision.”

“sounds convenient,” toji muttered, but suguru just chuckled.

you nudged him with your elbow, giving him a warning look. “toji, come on,” you whispered, as if he was the one being out of line here.

he let out a low sigh, then pulled back slightly, looking at you as if he’d just remembered himself. “what? ’m just makin’ sure you’re not getting dragged into any fancy wine scams or whatever.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. “geto’s company is doing fine, toji. it’s called persephone.”

toji folded his arms and gave a dismissive shrug. “well, just saying. i know people.” 

the whole room seemed to go a bit quieter, and toji cleared his throat, looking away from suguru's patient amusement.

“nice meeting you, toji,” suguru added, with a slight tilt of his head. “take care of our new ‘top find’ there, alright?”

toji clenched his jaw a little at the words, then nodded, pretending he wasn’t glaring at the camera. “yeah, yeah. we’re all set here.”

as the call ended, you turned to him, eyebrows raised, clearly wanting an explanation. “what was that about?”

toji scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual. “just, y’know…making sure you weren’t getting yourself in with shady people.”

“oh? like, you?”

he let out a bark of laughter, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner. “hey, i’m not shady — i’m just thorough.”

you raised an eyebrow. “thorough? right, that’s the word you’re going with?”

“yeah. and what — you mad at me for caring?”

at that, you went quiet, a faint blush touching your cheeks. 

and toji? well, he could only think of those two kisses again, and how stupidly close he’d just gotten to the camera just to… what? size up suguru? 

he mentally groaned. what was wrong with him?

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[mauvecherie-writes]

duality: l.hamilton

pairing: lewis hamilton x black journalist!reader

summary: it’s two years on since and then a lot about your dynamic has changed. things are official and everyone is still none the wiser …

tags: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, extremely sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, dom/sub elements, spit, choking, some slight edging, aftercare.

w.c: 4.5K

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @emjayewrites @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @angelinaevans @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew

previous part: super soaker.

Your friends loved a good gossip session and tonight’s topic as you sat in the exclusive club ‘Lounge 418’ was who had the best dick game in Hollywood. You had very little input considering you were still reaching the heights of your popularity as a journalist and you barely paid attention to the couple of men who had tried to get some type of access to you and it was going to be denied each time.

“The athletes though.” Marie smirked as the rest of the table hummed in agreement. “The toxicity adds a little sweetness to it.” She added which caused you to giggle. Chanel turned her body to face yours.

“Aren’t they all in your DM’s anyway? A fine ass woman talking about them in detail. I know that gives them an ego boost.”

It does. they messaged you all the time, wanting to quiz your knowledge in person. An arrogance that annoyed the hell out of you so you never replied. The only one who ever caught your eye was Lewis and it worked in his favour because he approached you accordingly. You had posted a podcast episode recapping on the events of his race in Brazil in 2021. As a long time fan of his - that was the race that sparked your love for him all over again.

The way you had spoken so passionately about him and his career, defending his right to the championship. Lewis had sent you a message thanking you for your support. It was short and sweet but your crush on him drove you to give him an answer then everything snow balled from there. That one episode changed your life for the next two and a half years.

When your relationship initially began, it was strictly casual sex but things got intense pretty quickly and the NDA was scrapped when things became more official between you. However, the both of you loved and respected each other’s privacy thus no one, even your closest friends knew.

So lost within your mind, you had forgotten that you were the focus of the conversation until Lewis’s sport was mentioned, your head snapped upwards.

“What about that F1 guy you’re obsessed with?”

Your cheeks warmed as a sense of bashfulness filled you. “What about him?”

“Has he ever slid into your DM’s?”

“I mean…” You shrugged your shoulders as you sipped on your French 75. “He was pretty chill and he was thanking me for my support for him for my podcast episode.”

“And that was it?” Marie raised her eyebrow and a small smirk playing on her face.

“We spoke here and there but that was about it.” You replied, trying to keep it as vague as possible. You remembered how flirty he was and how you had gravitated towards him. Your crush did quite a chunk of heavy lifting but Lewis was a natural charmer and he invoked feelings within you that had thought were gone. He brought them out and they haven’t dissipated since.

“He just looks like an absolute sweetheart. I don’t think he’d be that freaky though - seems like the vanilla type.” Your friend Vanessa commented. “Not that there's anything wrong with Vanilla.” She added.

“Nah, I say it’s the sweethearts you need to be on the lookout for. One minute, they’re feeding your strawberries and the next, they’re eating your pussy from the back and their thumb slipping into your ass.”

“That was oddly specific Marie.” Chanel raised her eyebrow with a grimace which caused all of you to burst out laughing. You hid your face behind your glass with a smile on your face.

As the alcohol flowed so did the topics and Lewis was no longer a focus which caused you to relax. You were beginning to think about him too much even though you had been with him in the morning before he left.

Then your phone buzzed in your bag. You placed your drink down and took your phone out and a message notification was on the screen.

🏎️💨: I see you.

You looked up from your phone and tried to search the crowds in the lounge but it was too dimly lit.

You: Lol okay, Mr Creeper. Where do you see me from?

🏎️💨: I’m a few tables ahead of you to the right. I saw trying to look for me. I’m in the blue cap with the TH tracksuit.

As soon as you read the description of his appearance, you quickly spotted him and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. His attempts at disguising himself in public were always terrible and him dressed top to bottom in a Tommy Hilfiger two piece was certainly not doing him any favours.

You: You are terrible at hiding yourself lol. You’re staring right at me.

You: Also, what are you doing here??? I thought you were having a quiet night until I came to your place.

🏎️💨: The boys dragged me out. They say I haven’t been out in a while. I didn’t know we were on our way here until we were outside.

🏎️💨: Come and say hi.

“Who are you texting that’s making you smile like that?” Marie as she tried to snoop, looking down at your phone. You quickly locked your screen and placed your phone back into your bag.

“Nobody.” You smiled at her as you got up. Smiling at everyone, “I just saw someone, I’m gonna say go say hi and I’ll be back.”

Your friends watched you as you walked away from your table, their eyes widening when they see the men sitting at the table.

As you drew closer, your smile could not be stopped as you saw him sitting there on top of the booth, his legs spread. You could spot his rainbow coloured pearl necklace from the top of the track jacket.

With a small wave to the other men, you made it in front of Lewis, standing in between his legs.

“You look good enough to eat.” He mumbled in your ear as you hugged him.

“You look good too.” You replied with a soft giggle. His head turned slightly into your neck and placed a kiss in the depression of your collarbone through the fabric of your top.

Your sweet spot.

You almost moaned but your will power compelled you to pull away.

“Are you allowed to hug me like that in public?” You softly asked him.

“Anything I say goes and I wanted that hug. I haven’t seen you since this morning.” He licked his lips as he let his eyes fall down to your midriff. It was like he could see himself back in your bed this morning. You tapped his thigh so he could focus on your face instead and once he held your gaze and sighed, you rolled your eyes.

“Always in the gutter.” You commented.

“You’re in there with me.” He threw back at you with a smirk. With his grip on your forearm, he pulled you closer in between his legs. Feeling his warmth had you taking a deep breath as he stared at you without word.

“So what’s on the agenda? Everyone’s looking at us, they’re gonna pick up on it.”

“It’s been two years, let them speculate.”

“You know now that I’ve seen you, I just want to leave now and my girls are gonna ask questions.”

“Tell them what you want.” He said. “In about thirty minutes, you’re gonna meet me out front and we’ll go back to my place.”

“What are we doing at your place?” You asked as you played with his zipper.

“You’ll find out when we get there but make sure you book a hair appointment soon.”

“Jesus Christ.” You breathed out as you let his words sink into your bones.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay … Sir.”

“Good girl.”

God, the urge to kiss him was strong within you but instead you pulled away from him and got back to reality. You patted his chest before you finally withdrew and went back to your table.

“What in the hell was that?!” Chanel exclaimed. “You were trying to play coy with us but you knew that Lewis Hamilton was going to be here?!”

“Yeah, friends my ass.” Vanessa snickered

“First of all, I didn’t know he was going to be here.” You spoke as you reached for the bottle of fresh champagne on the table.

“Was he the one messaging you?” “Is this the first time you’ve seen him in a social setting?” “Girl what the hell was that? Y’all were all up on each other?!” “Yeah, what was that about?”

“What is with all these damn questions?” You tried to laugh them off and focused on drinking. All your friends narrowed their eyes at you.

“This is not over.” Maria pointed at you.

“Whatever.” You playfully smacked her hand away from your direction. And for the next thirty minutes, you had tried to focus back your attention on your friends but since talking to Lewis, your body was riddled with anticipation.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you quickly said your goodbyes, they playfully jeered you as you walked away. You rolled your eyes laughing at their remarks. When you got outside, Lewis’s bodyguard was waiting outside of his truck to open the door for you.

You greeted him softly as you slid into the truck and sat yourself beside your boyfriend, who placed a light kiss on your cheek. You melted into the side of his body as you rode from the lounge to his property.

When you got up to his penthouse, you were in awe of the interior design. You especially loved his floor to ceiling windows that gave you the most perfect view of the New York skyline. Your toes wiggled against the heated floors as you had taken your heels off the moment you entered his home.

You were standing by the window when Lewis came behind you, holding a small glass of wine.

“You always said that you’d wanted to taste one of my wines from my infamous wine fridge.”

“I always found it interesting that you’re not much of a drinker but every home you own has a wine fridge and a small bar.”

“I like the aesthetic of it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean I can’t cater to the people around me who do.”

You took a sip of the beverage and you almost moaned at the richness of the wine hitting your tastebuds. You had always been a wine snob and Lewis indulged in your tastes by buying you expensive wines that you wouldn’t even think of.

“I can’t believe you got me a bottle of Burgundy.”

“You’d been raving about it for a week when you saw that it was being auctioned. Personally I don’t see what the fuss is about.” His last comment caused you to laugh. The bottle was a Chateau Latour from 1984, matured for forty years and you had wanted it since your first big paycheck. The bottle being auctioned was a blessing in disguise but you always talked yourself out actually spending close to £500 for it.

Lewis bought it for you without a blink.

You took another sip, a larger one than the last.

“It has very intense notes. It’s herby but has a lot of fruity notes coming to the top. Black cherries and blackberries is what I taste the most but it leaves an earthy note when it’s done.”

“You sound so hot when you talk like that.” Lewis softly groaned which caused you to blush. You placed the nearly empty wine glass down as he encroached into your personal space. You tried to ignore the way that he was staring you down which was causing your heart to beat incredibly fast. You had always reacted like this to him and you honestly thought that was never going to change.

You licked your lips as he cupped your cheeks in his hands and caressed your skin with his thumbs.

“I just love hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about.” He traced your bottom lip with his thumb as he dropped one of his hands to your waist and pulled you into his body.

“Thank you.” You whispered, admiring his beauty up close. You loved the small beauty spot that sat high on his cheekbone and the double nose piercings with diamonds that caught the light from all angles. His lashes were long and curled and as he looked at you - they seemed to be touching his cheeks.

“Want a taste of the wine?” You asked with a little smirk on your lips as Lewis moved his hand to the back of your head.

“Yeah, give me a taste.” He mumbled before he leaned down and captured your mouth. Lewis moaned softly as he savoured the residue of the wine still on your lips. You couldn’t move your head much as he had moved his hands to cup your face in his palms as he controlled the kiss. You melted into his hold, silently begging for more as you held onto his wrists trying to stabilise yourself.

You nibbled on his bottom lip which caused him to growl, he walked you backwards until you were pressed into the window behind you. Finally, he moved his hands away from your face and trailed them down your body and gripped you as you wrestled with his tongue. His hands dipped into the hem of your skirt until one of his fingers hooked on your thong.

“Can we move to the bedroom?” You whispered as Lewis kissed down the length of your neck. Your fingers moved to his hair, tugging on his braids as his tongue licked on your pretty brown skin.

“No one can see you from up here.” He said as he licked on your earlobe before sucking on it.

“Maybe next time but I want you to take me on your bed.”

“You want me to fuck you into my mattress is that it?”

“Yes.” You gasped at his words and then he picked you up in his arms and began walking towards the bedroom. You capture his lips again - in a far more frantic manner as you clawed at his clothes, begging him to take them off. He threw you onto his king sized bed and then discarded his jacket and white vest.

“Take it all off.” He commanded you which caused you to whimper. You stripped out of your clothes until you were left in just your thong and before you could pull them down, Lewis pulled you towards him by your ankle, squealing as he dragged you. Your back settled down onto the bed as Lewis positioned himself in between your legs and pulled your thongs away from your cunt.

Lewis felt you tremble as he parted your folds with his fingers, teasing them as he watched you react to his touch.

“I always tell you this but you have such a pretty pussy sweetheart.”

“And you love playing with my pretty pussy.”

“Yeah I do. I’m gonna play with you and make you feel so good until I’ve had enough.” You moaned at his words and thrusted your pussy into his face. Lewis chuckled at your desperation, pressing the pad of his thumb on your clit.

“How bad do you want it?” He asked you as you took off your underwear completely.

“I want it so bad baby.” You replied as he got onto his knees and placed your legs on his shoulders. “Please.” You pleaded.

“Ugh.” Lewis groaned. “I love it when you get like this. So needy before I even touch you.” He turned his head to place kisses on the inner of your thighs.

“Because you love teasing me until I can’t take it.” He smirked at you right before he buried his head in your thighs. The first burst of your small whimpers left you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and softly sucked it into his mouth. Your hands quickly found their way into your hair, tugging on the strands as he sucked on your sensitive bud. His eyes moved upward to meet yours that were already looking down at him. Lewis’s gaze was so intense as he caught your every reaction.

Shaky breaths left you as he flicked his tongue back and forth on your nub. Your sweetness trickled into his mouth, dipping the muscle into your cunt. You squirmed in his arms as he continued giving you slow strokes of his tongue before changing the motion into a suction.

“Oh shit!” You gasped as you jerked up to your elbows and pushed the back of your heels into his muscled, tattooed back. Lewis softly groaned against you as his cock strained in his pants.

“Just like that.” You moaned as you pulled on the covers beneath you as you rolled your hips into his mouth. Just as your orgasm was on the eclipse, he pulled away from you and your sound of despair was music to his ears as he grabbed a strip of condoms from the bedside table and he threw them beside you on the bed.

“I hate it when you stop just as I’m about to cum.” You whined as you watched him cover his dick with the condom.

“I know sweetheart but tonight, I only want to feel you cumming on me.” He told you as he traced your opening with the tip of his cock as he crowded your body from above. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he hiked your legs to his waist. Lewis leaned down and pressed a searing kiss onto your lips, you hummed into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

He slowly slid inside.

“Fuck.” The both of you sighed. You dug your nails into his shoulders as he slid further into your cunt. Your lips brushed against each other as he slowly dragged his cock in and out of you as you continued to adjust to the stretch. Two years on and you still took a little time to accommodate him.

He placed a kiss on your hairline as he whispered sweet words in your ear. “Always tight and sweet for me.” You whimpered at his words as you tried to push your hips up to encourage him to pick up speed but all he did was put his hands in the crook of your knees, pushing them down. From the new position, his chains were dangling down into your face.

“Baby.” You called him.

“Yeah baby?”

“Don’t go sweet on me. I need you.” His strokes were slow, building his momentum but hearing you say that made his jaw clench. He’d always tried to be gentle with you never really letting his mask slip but there were times before where he had given you a taste and you craved for Lewis to let go of his inhibition.

“I’ll ruin you sweetheart. I’ll ruin you for good.” He mumbled as he pecked your lips.

“I’m yours. Do what you want to me.”

Lewis let your words wash over you and they made him buckle. He dropped his forehead onto yours with his eyes closed.

“Do you know the traffic light system?” He asked you and you quickly nodded your head in response.”

“Green means go, amber is slow down and red is stop.”

“Good girl.” He hummed, giving you one more kiss. “I still want a safe word.”

“Burgundy.” You shot out an answer which caused him to smirk.

“That’s my girl.” He sat up but he was still holding you down as he angled his hips and hit your spot at a different angle. Your breath ceased, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he began to focus on that same spot - thrusting into you hard and fast. Your walls tightly clenched around him, strangling his cock as your body was swept in pleasure. Because of the previous build up, your orgasm was quickly rising.

He could feel your warmth and wetness through the sheath of the latex and for the umpteenth time, his mind wandered to how you’d feel without the barrier in between you. His knees were already buckling , he knew without the condom, he’d crumble. However, he had to focus. Your moans were calling out to him, your hand was pressing at his abdomen to try and relieve some of the pressure but he wasn’t going to let up.

He would get you right to the edge, get your legs shaking before he would stop. Edging you over and over until you were begging with tears trailing down the sides of your face.

“Please, please, please, please.” You rambled as you thrashed your head around, completely overwhelmed with your nerves being overshot by his actions and his dick pushing deeper inside of you. Your eyes were closed as you tried to regulate your breathing to focus on not climaxing.

“Open your eyes baby.” Lewis grabbed your cheeks, the pain of his blunt nails digging into your skin forced you to open your eyes. “There you go. I need you to keep looking at me as I fuck you stupid.”

He hiked up your right leg to his shoulder as he picked up his pace, pounding into you harder and faster.

“Lewis!” You exclaimed his name as your back arched off the bed, gasping for air as his hips snapped harshly against your skin. He loved the way his name fell from your lips, the best music to his ears. “Right there baby!”

“Open your mouth.” He demanded and you promptly let your mouth part. He hovered above you and let some spit drop into your mouth. You whimpered as you quickly swallowed and showed him your tongue to show him that you’d done it.

“That’s my good girl.” He smiled at you and then wiped your bottom lip, smudging the last of your lipstick. His fingers were so close and you took them into your mouth, sucking on them causing his rhythm to stutter. He pushed his fingers a little bit further into your mouth which caused you to gag a little bit and you kept sucking on his digits.

You have a thing for choking and he’d picked up on that but hadn’t really done much to play with you until now. Lewis took his fingers out of your mouth and brought them to your neck and applied just enough pressure to make your walls clamp up around him. You squeezed your eyes closed as more tears came - you couldn’t hold back anymore, our body was begging for release and Lewis continued with his teasing.

“Hold your legs up.” He told you and when your arms hooked around your trembling thighs, Lewis bent his body so that his head was closer to your chest and took a nipple into his mouth. He grazed your areola with his teeth before sucking on your nipple causing your walls to quiver around his dick.

Even without words, Lewis could feel your body crying for release. “My dirty, dirty girl. I can feel you milking my dick, just trying to take me for all my worth.” Using his weight to hold you down, one hand still around his neck and the other coming in between your bodies to pinch your clit before moving his fingers in swift and fast circles on your nub.

“This pretty pussy doesn’t want to let me go sweetheart.” He whispered into your ear before placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“I need to come.” Your lips were against his ear, his cold jewellery touching your warm, flushed skin. “Please let me come, Sir. Let me come for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? What if I just want you right on the edge? Hm? What if it brings me pleasure edging you and watching you suffer?”

“Baby…”

“You can stop it now. Just give me the word and I’ll end it all right now.”

You shook your head. “Don’t stop.”

Lewis then shifted your position yet again, this time with your knees now on each side of your head. He began fucking you harder than before which left you incoherent, begging and pleading for any and everything.

Your juices were drenching the both of you and with each thrust, the slapping of wet skin caused an echo to carry across the room.

“I’m gonna come!” You inhaled sharply as your chest heaved for air. Lewis placed a kiss onto the back of your leg.

“Come for me baby. Wanna feel you drench my dick.” His words broke the dam. Your whole body was set ablaze as your orgasm consumed your body as you called out his name in a desperate cry. Lewis dropped his head into the crook of your neck, sucking your skin into his mouth as he fucks you through the climax.

His thrusts became irregular and sloppy until he was moaning against your flesh as he erupted into the condom. You held onto each other as the both of you tried to control your breathing. Your bodies were covered in sweat and the stickiness of your fluids in between your legs.

Your body was still vibrating from the intensity of your orgasm. “I can’t feel my legs.” You mumbled in his ear causing Lewis to chuckle. He turned his head and kissed along your jawline before capturing your lips into a soft kiss.

“Did I hurt you baby?”

“In all of the best ways.” You smiled against his lips. “One of the best orgasms you’ve ever given me.”

“One of many.”

“God, I love you.” You groaned as you wrapped your arms around his neck as he began to move away from the bed and towards the bathroom. He sat you on the counter of the sink as he walked to the bathtub to fill it with water before coming back to you.

He parted your legs and grabbed a wet rag and began wiping you down. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you baby?” The marks of his touch were beginning to show on your skin and the concern in his tone made you swoon. You placed a hand on his cheek and made him look at you.

“I’m fine baby, I swear. I still feel like you’re holding back on me.” You replied.

“It’s our first time venturing into that type of play. I don’t want to overwhelm you just yet. Things tonight were already intense so we need to be careful about that.”

“Hmmm.” You hummed as your walls clenched around nothing and your nipples began to tighten. “God, I love it when you talk to me like that.”

Lewis smirked down at you before leaning forward and kissing you once more. “I take being a dom very seriously. You’re my girl and I love you so I have to be extra cautious.”

“Are you finally going to make me yours completely?”

“You already are, sweetheart, I don’t need to dominate you to prove that.” He licked his lips before picking you up and walking you to the tub.

“No, but it would be nice.” Your answer caused him to laugh as he settled the both of you in the warm water. Your body was sore in all of the right places and here you were in the arms of the same man who brought you the sinful pleasure and now the most tender affection.

The duality of his love.

ru’s letters 💌: I cannot believe that this was sitting in my drafts for two years. I did some adjustments for it to be a sequel and instead of a prequel. Hope you loved it my angels 😘.

edit: thinking of doing a final part for this where we fully explore Lewis in a full Dom mode. Let me know what you think 🫶🏾

[ellecdc]

hey, love! sooo i have a request (and im more than willing to wait for it, absolutely no rush). i'm having surgery in a couple weeks and it's nothing like life threatening or super serious but it's still a little scary and it's something that's going to make my very stubbornly independent self need to be dependent on other people for like two or three months. so i was wondering if you could do stubborn/independent reader in recovery, being taken care of by remus and or regulus cause i know they'd be very sweet and maybe a bit too helpful, like maybe reader even tries to do things that they aren't ready for yet because it's frustrating needing to rely on others but theres reassurance that it's fine to need help and it's better to take the help in order to have a quicker and better recovery. wanted to keep details vague so you can work your magic but i hope at least a little inspiring

lot of love!!! 🫶🫶🫶

best of luck with your surgery, love! hope it all goes well <3

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who is recovering from surgery not at all gracefully

CW: reader is stubbornly independent, discussion of surgery/post-op aftercare/stitches and incisions, fluff and comfort

By some absolute twist of fate, you’d actually been left alone for the first time in nearly five days.

You were unbelievably thankful for your two sweet, sweet boyfriends and the amount of care they treated you with.

But however thankful you were for your two sweet, sweet boyfriends, you were also quite fed up with their coddling. 

You’re not sure what exactly it was that finally got them to leave you alone; it could have been your sharp tone when you told Regulus you didn’t want your pillows fluffed again, or the withering glare you gave Remus when he poked his head in to ask if you needed “anything else at all, sweet girl”, but you were almost certain it was when you finally dissolved into frustrated tears.

And so, five days after your appendectomy, you were finally, blissfully alone. 

You had tissues on the bed beside you, the largest bottle of water Regulus could find on the bedside table, your books, the TV remote, and some crisps at your disposal. 

It was heavenly.

But you know what would be even better? Ice cream. 

In the two days you spent in hospital following your procedure, Regulus had to have spent nearly half your monthly rent on food, snacks, blankets, and other “post-surgery supplies” - which included the largest refillable water bottle you’d ever seen in your entire life. 

It also included ice cream. 

And while the boys had left the majority of your post-surgery supplies within your reach upon their retreat from your bedroom, ice cream could not, for obvious reasons, be left in your bedroom for your easy access.

But what were you going to do? Call them? Ask them to come bring you ice cream? And have to live with their smug ‘haha, see, you do need us’ faces? Well, that certainly wouldn’t do. 

It had been four days since your surgery which left you with perhaps nothing more than a few teeny incisions along your stomach that they slapped a measly piece of tape over to keep shut - like hell that was going to slow you down. 

So, you pushed your blankets off yourself with minimal effort. You took a deep breath and held it as you swiveled your hips so that your legs were hanging off the bed, letting it out as you twisted your torso to realign your body correctly. Not so bad, right?

You braced yourself again as you slid slowly off the bed, once again letting a lung-full of air out as your feet hit the ground.

Feeling quite chuffed at your accomplishment and unjustifiably confident that the hardest part was now over, you started on your task of retrieving ice cream. 

You reminded yourself as you shuffled down the hallway that the doctor had said that walking each day was in fact good for your recovery, though you were certain that supporting yourself along the wall and unsupervised isn’t exactly what she had in mind when she gave you those instructions.

No matter, you were completely capable!

So capable.

The most capable.

And a measly case of stairs wasn’t going to change that. 

You tried to recite the aftercare instructions the doctor had given you prior to being discharged, though you were admittedly still feeling a little drowsy at the time and it had been Remus who took dutiful notes as Regulus packed your bag.

Staring at the case of stairs that threatened your master plan of retrieving your well-deserved ice cream - in your most humble opinion, you did sacrifice an organ for it - you decided that if you couldn’t remember the doctor saying no stairs, that stairs were probably fine.

Likely fine.

Mostly fine.

Except the very first step you took had you flinching at the sensation of the tape tugging uncomfortably at your skin.

But once your other foot joined your first on the step, the feeling went away.

Okay, see? That was fine.

Not so bad.

Now you just have to do that… thirteen more times.

Thirteen…that felt like a lot.

But you weren’t supposed to look at obstacles in terms of wholes; you just needed to look at the next step.

Which was exactly one step.

You had already taken a step! Surely you could take one more!

Except a small whimper escaped your lips as you took your next step, your second foot joining the first rather quickly and clumsily in a hasty attempt to relieve you from the tugging of your taped up abdomen. 

You had managed to wash, rinse, and repeat those steps for exactly six stairs before you started to wonder if the ice cream was really actually worth ripping your stomach back open. 

You were eight steps away from the lower level of your townhouse, and six steps from the upper level where your salvation came in the form of your bedroom. 

You had three options here:

1) Continue in your trek down the rest of the eight steps to your ice cream - dreams of ever returning to your bed be damned 2) Retreat to the safety of your bedroom and figure out how to haul yourself up onto the mattress  3) Ask for help 

Still feeling rather petulant over the fact that you were very close to having to live through Remus and Regulus’ “I told you so” faces, you opted for option two, and pivoted on the stair in an attempt to retreat back to your bedroom. 

Which would have been fine if the action of lifting your leg didn’t actually leave you feeling like the rest of your organs were about to spill out onto the staircase (which was very dramatic considering you weren’t even sure you could fit your own finger into the tiny holes dotting your abdomen if you tried; but that’s how it felt, okay?) 

So, in the face of failure, you opted to choose a secret fourth option:

4) Sit on the staircase in defeat and accept your fate (death, probably) 

“I’ll check, but if she throws a book at my face, you’re in charge of dinner.” You heard Remus call as he rounded the corner and started for the stairs. 

You had your forehead resting on the spindles of the railing and watched as Remus made it up the first section of stairs to the landing before pausing when he turned and noticed you.

“Dovey! Are you okay?” He whispered in abject horror, bending down (causing his knees to crack audibly which made you feel even more wretched for worrying him) as he considered you.

“I’m fine.” You whined, hoping to gain some sympathy in your current state.

“What are you doing here?!” He continued, rubbing his thumb along your shoulder. 

“Wanted ice cream…” You admitted rather reluctantly; shame prickled at your skin as Remus paused in his movements and his expression shifted from worry to one of shock. 

His mouth flattened into a terse smile. “You’re kidding me.”

‘I really, really wish I was’ you thought to yourself.

Apparently, your response read loud and clear on your face as he let out a tired sigh. “Reg!”

You felt your own expression morph from shame to one of betrayal. “Now, why would you do that!?”

Remus barely had a chance to roll his eyes at you as Regulus appeared around the corner. 

“Mon Dieu! Ce qui s’est passé?! Are you okay!?” He exclaimed as he spotted you sitting dejectedly on the stairs. 

“I’m fine.” You answered at the same time Remus replied “She’s stuck.”

“What were you doing?” Regulus asked again, looking between you and Remus in bemusement. 

“Being a brat.” Remus hissed quietly; his tone bordering frustration in a way you weren’t accustomed to being directed at you even as his touch remained loving and dutiful. 

Horrified, you felt your sinus’ fill painfully as you hid your face between the spindles of the railing, blocking both boys from your view. 

“I’m tired of being useless.” You whispered; your voice pinching audibly as your words nearly got stuck in your throat. 

Remus let out a sigh as he let his one hand slide from your shoulder down to your hand, and the other rubbed at your knee affectionately. 

“You’re not useless, mon amour; you’re recovering.”

“From a pretty major surgery, at that.” Remus added, earning him a derisive scoff from you.

“It’s not major surgery! It’s  a very routine procedure and it barely left a mark on me.” You spat; recounting the doctors words from before your surgery nearly word for word. 

“Ça suffit. An entire organ tried to kill you, amour, and it had to be removed.” Regulus offered.

“It was a stupid organ that we don’t even use anymore.” You added petulantly. 

“And it was ripped from you nonetheless, dove. Listen,” Remus continued, taking your chin in his hand and directing your eyes back to him. “I know, I know you hate feeling reliant on us, and I also know that we like letting you rely on us perhaps a bit too much.” He paused to raise his eyebrows at you and you took in a shuddering breath. “But I think right now is one of those times you have to let us.” 

You let an embarrassing sound escape the back of your throat as you tried to avert your gaze, but Remus strengthened his hold on your chin. 

“You have to let us, baby.” He whispered again. 

“My love, if you insist on doing things before you’re ready, you’re only going to hurt yourself which is going to mean you have to rely on us even longer.” Regulus continued as he sat beside you on the step, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and trailing his finger down your neck. 

“You wouldn’t want that now, would you?” Remus asked teasingly; one corner of his lips tilting upwards and pulling at the scar that you loved to watch dance across his face when he was most expressive. 

You lifted your hand to run your finger along it, delighting in the slight blush that flooded Remus’ cheeks as he closed his eyes and relished in your touch. 

“Qu’est-ce que tu voulais?” Regulus asked you then.

You let out a sigh in resignation and tilted your head to rest on Regulus’ shoulder. “Ice cream.”

Your head jostled from the gentle chuckle that left Reg at your admission as Remus beamed at you. 

“Well, why didn’t you just ask?” He teased as he stood quickly - telling yourself that you weren’t jealous at all by his ability to move quickly and freely. “Wanna help our princess back to bed, my love?” Remus asked Regulus who was already standing and offering you his hands. 

They both helped you stand and allowed you a moment to catch your breath and confirm you were alright before Regulus moved two steps below and got into position to give you a piggy-back-ride.

Remus waited until the two of you got to the top of the stairs safely before hurrying to the kitchen to procure your long awaited ice cream. 

What would have likely taken you all day (had you been successful in your venture) took Regulus and Remus perhaps six and a half minutes before the three of you were propped up in your bed, each with a bowl of ice cream as Remus queued up your favourite movie. 

“Merci, amour.” Regulus whispered into your hair before pressing a kiss to your head.

“What for?” You asked.

He smiled softly at you as he examined your face. “For letting us love on you.” 

“It really is our favourite, you know?” Remus added.

And fortunately for you, you did know.

[papaya-twinks]

random request but lando norris x reader where he comes to her undergrad graduation or med school?

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, (i have severe mental issues)

Pairing: Lando Norris x medical!student!reader

A/N - sorry to add a negative message, but to y’all who keep sending me hate coz I’m not able to do your request the same day it’s sent, fuck you bud. I’m trying juggle fucking uni and my own job, so deal with it yourself if you want it written so bad. But anyways, @slytherinholland this is a sick request, sorry it took a while

“This robe is SO unflattering,” you groaned, eyeing the outfit in the mirror as you dropped the fifth belt onto the bed. “It’s just a few hours in it,” your best friend smiled, “and that too, no matter what belt, there’s no fixing that,” she grimaced as you snorted. “Yeah, I can tell,” you laughed. And the graduation went well, you collected your certificates and threw your hats, but it was about to get even better. “Oh my god, I’m so happy!” you clapped your hand as your best friend raised an eyebrow.

“Wha-Lando?!” you shrieked, your boyfriend standing behind you as you turned around, a stupid grin plastered on his face. “Thought I’d miss this?” he asked, seeing if you’d really doubted him. He was wearing a green hoodie and joggers, matching your robe and aesthetic. Wow, he really thought a lot about the details. “Oh god,” you threw your arms round his neck, “sorry this outfits a bit…” you gestured vaguely at yourself. “A bit ugly,” your best friend finished, making Lando laugh.

Saying your goodbyes to your friends, you smiled awkwardly at Lando. “Ya know,” he said, gesturing for you to get into his car, “it’s not terrible,”. You raised an eyebrow. “The fit,” Lando explained, “you know who it’d look better?”. Seriously? He had an idea? You thought there was no fixing it. “I’ll show you,” he said, seeing your disbelieving face. You had a bit of small talk, answering his questions about a few things and asking about races, cracking jokes and making each other laugh. Very different to what he had planned.

“Still revising?” he scoffed, seeing you sat at the desk in his apartment, books laid out. “Yeah, got one final exam. Biggest one yet,” you frowned, trying to memorise the body anatomy. “What you learning?” you knew he wouldn’t understand it, just trying to show some sort of interest in your life. “Anatomy,” you showed him the human body diagram. “God, I don’t get why they won’t just let you take a mannequin home,” you groaned. “I can help,” Lando volunteered, hands in his pockets.

“You gonna steal a mannequin?” you raised an eyebrow. “No, silly, I can be the mannequin,” he shrugged, cheeks dusted with a soft pink blush as you blinked. “Okay,” you said, letting him take your hand before he allowed you to lay him down, his eyes trained on yours. “There’s a reason they don’t make mannequins hot,” you muttered, his gaze unfaltering as your flushed. “What was that?” he smirked, knowing he heard you as you rolled your eyes. “Nothing,” you shrugged.

“Stop, that tickles,” he huffed, your featherlight touches along his neck and shoulders making him wriggle. “Better?” you dug your nail into his chest, making him push you slightly. “You’re a pain. Can I help with anything?” he tried to be helpful. “I can’t really see much,” you shrugged, pulling at his hoodie, letting him read the situation and remove it. “Better?” he asked. “Better,” you nodded. “Out loud,” he commanded, his voice deeper slightly as he watched your finger trail down his chest. “Ventriculus,” you said, cheeks flushed as you trailed over his stomach.

“Ishcium,” your hand reached his hips, his lips parting slightly as his chest lifted up and down quicker. “Mhm, what about lower?” he asked, your eyes closing as you tried to hide your blush. “Lando…” you mumbled, his hands coming to your wrist to press your hand against him, his cock semi-hard against your palm. “What is it, hm?” he looked at you, his lips spread into a smirk. Without hesitation, you pulled his joggers down, his cock springing against you as you gasped, hand coming to throw base of it instinctively.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his eyelashes fluttering at the sensation. You hummer softly and, without asking, you wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around as he groaned. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, his hand coming to the back of your head as he pushed you softly more. “What’s the called, hm?” he said, hand coming to feel the bump in your cheek as your eyes rolled slightly. The words came out as muffles, making him frown slightly.

“Can’t hear you,” he said, pulling you off as you spluttered, his hand on your neck. “What is it?” he asked again, voice more commanding. “Glans,” you coughed, a smirk on his face as your hand wrapped onto his tip again. “Lift,” he said, sliding the robes off of your body as you crawled onto his chest, head on his shoulder and as he sit up, lifting you onto his lap. “Miss this,” he mumbled, lifting you so he could align himself with your entrance.

“Me too, Lan,” you moaned as he pushed in, his eyes on your face, a picture of bliss and ecstasy, as you sunk down onto him. His hands gripped your waist as he slammed upwards into you, your hips rolling back onto him as his teeth sunk into your neck softly. “Fuck, Lan,” you gasped, his cock hitting the perfect spots as he sucked onto your skin, your eyes rolling slightly. “Gonna cum for me, pretty?” he cooed, hands cupping your cheeks as you choked out a small ‘yes’. “Then go on,” he said, slowing down as you felt yourself come undone all over him.

“Orgasm,” you tapped your boyfriend’s stomach as he pulled out of you, an airy laugh ringing vibrating through his chest. “Yeah, know that one,” he cupped your cheek, pressing a kiss to your head. “Unless you wanna test out the reproductive system, I think it’s best we clean up,” he said, staring at his cum pooling between your legs. “Ideally no, but unfortunately, we have to,” you kicked your foot in mock sadness as he laughed. “Alright, Miss ‘I have a PhD,’” he snorted as you flushed. “I’d never pull that card on anyone!” you said, rolling your eyes. And not even ten minutes later, you did.

[i-hate-peas]

The Old Guard Fic Recs

So I've been a long time lurker within the fandom without ever getting particularly involved, but I wanted to show some appreciation for some of the super talented people who go here, because I have read a lot of incredible TOG fic.

Most (probably all) of these authors have loads of other amazing fics, but I've tried to just chose one from each, to keep the list a vaguely reasonable length. Although then I cheated and did some honourable mentions.

** just a note to say I started this list year (s) ago and forgot about it until literally today when I saw fic recs going round. Any of these fics I haven’t put a description for it’s because I didn’t do it at the time, and if I go back to reread them all this would never be posted, not through any lack of affection or enjoyment **

If any writers want tagging/ untagging etc please let me know! (i knew/ could find some blogs more easily than others lol)

Within Canon

Old Olives by aeli_kindara

Garden of Gethsemane mention = instant tears

Death in Her Hands by superblackmarket

Nile's growing relationship with Joe and Nicky. All of their fics are so beautifully written, but I especially love Nile's relationship with the boys and her facing her own immortality.

Honourable mention: Station to Station

Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (@hauntedfalcon)

Andy! Nile!

Ouroboros by CypressSunn (@cypresssunns)

Set after the film, literally just read it.

compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R

A pair of early days Joe Nicky fics that reminds me of 'my wife is a bitch and i love her so much'

let's give them something to talk about by lacecat

When The Cherries White With Blossoms, Be Ready & Be Brave by chapstickaddict

Unearthed by merle_p

I think this is one of the most kudosed fics in the AO3 tag, but it deserves the hype!

Kidnapping for Dummies by Amiril

Similar to above, already very popular, but great and very funny!

The Last Man on Earth by Survivah (@optimismology)

I will admit I don't normally go for Booker/Nile, but this fic sold it to me. Looking at them and their developing relationship as the newer immortals.

Canon Divergent

Retrograde by Pinkninja

I mean this fic is the Big Bitch of the fandom for me, if you haven't already read this, where have you been? But also if you haven't already read this I am so jealous, read it and take your time with it and bawl your eyes out over it and appreciate the joy of reading it for the first time. The level of detail and planning in this fic is indescribable. It follows Nicky trapped in a Time Travellers Wife style life where he jumps back and forth throughout his own timeline, whilst Joe lives his life in chronological order. Exquisitely written.

If Never Again, If Every Day by gallifreyburning and takiki16 (@gallifreyburning, @takiki16)

Another absolute Titan of the genre. I know you’ve already been recommended this 500 times, what more can I say.

though I'm dying to (fall in love with you) by yusufsmoon (@babygirlyusuf)

Travellers from an Antique Land by kaydeefalls (@kaydeefalls)

Andy, not Quỳnh, trapped under the sea. I love all their fics.

AUs

Makes Me Want You More by Sixthlight (@sixth-light)

Perhaps not the typical favourite choice from Sixthlight, one of my absolute favourite TOG authors, but one that is funny and lovely and sweet that I keep coming back to. Shorter than many of theirs but perfectly formed.

pumpkin gnocci verse (series) by Liadan14 (@bewires)

I mean it's got estranged family, suspenseful chronological structure, cooking, spies, intimate and honest sex scenes, hilarious misunderstandings involving keeping halal, lovely found family moments, and the actual recipes used. What more do you want.

The Reality of Everything by Marbletopempire

One of the fics I desperately waited for each instalment for. Very funny, lots of sexual tension, plenty of Cate Blanchette spotting opportunities.

sine qua non by mellyflori (@werebearbearbar)

One of the first of their fics I read, with a very sweet build up of misunderstanding to friends to lovers, involving growing up, discovering sexuality, trying to be nice about your best friend's bad boyfriend, and a long suffering sofa.

The Brooklyn Verse (series) by GayLittleEarring, yusufsmoon, nicelytousled (@marwankenzarisgaylittleearring @babygirlyusuf @nicelytousled)

I saw the creation of this on Tumblr before it was a fic, and it lived up to every expectation. Very sweet and sincere, with lots of great discussions about art, whilst also very funny (Lamp the free loader, Joe sending thirst traps out of irritation) and hot. ItalianAmericanNickyfromBrooklyn and Joe my beloveds.

a good (eighth) impression by deaniker

I love a good hook-up to 'oh shit I have feelings' fic, and this is even more entertaining because Nicky is Lykon's ex, and Joe has very much seen him at his worst.

You do not have to be good by emjee (MerryHeart) (@emjee)

At one point a tumblr post about Joe the Professor and Nicky the Priest got very popular, and I'm not sure if this fic was inspired by that, but is one of the great fics with similar concepts. Such a lovely, gentle fic about love and also identity, featuring also Nile and a very sweet snail.

it's such an almighty sound (series) by raedear (@raedear)

A secret service AU that goes full enemies to lovers, with lots of tension, plotting, betrayal, frustration, and tenderness.

Honourable mention: take my hand (you got me rockin' and rollin')

fight 'til the day that i die 'verse by incurableromancer

Suspenseful, noir, super hero AU that has such a great writing style and is very atmospheric.

if you do take a thief by knoepfchen (@knoepfchen)

Cluedo style AU with lots of fun twists and slow building of backstories, with the whole gang.

Honourable mention: life is not the things that we do (it's who we're doing them with)

[gothcsz]

Dangerous Woman | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~9k wc | Part 2 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Javier does something that warrants a second visit.

Tags: stalking, lots of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (we're taking it raw), some plot snuck into the porn (sorry not sorry), spanking, light slapping, slight breeding kink..., some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, no use of Y/N, reader is a photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, we're altering canon timeline just a bit, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: primas (gn), we're back to being delusional! thanks so so so much for all the lovin the boy is mine got like i'm on my knees for each and every one of u fr 🧎🏽‍♀️ hehe i do plan on posting a final part to wrap this up btw. love the dynamic between these two 🖤 did javi match your freak?! did he match your nasty?!

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

You quit going to his apartment entirely. He expects you to meet him there again, and while the urge to return and take things all the way is enticing as hell; you keep yourself from doing so.

Well, technically, you did go by one time and that visit was the reason why you swore the rest of them off.

You watched from the front seat of your car, further down on the other side of the street, as he rested his forearms against the railing; a lit cigarette between his lips while he stared off into the distance.

Your handsome man who somehow looked sexier under distress. Even from how far away you were you could see those defined, prominent wrinkles between his brows.

He was waiting for you. Looking out into the city and wishing that you were prancing your way back to him.

You wondered then if that was a new ritual of his. If he stood out on his balcony every night in hopes of seeing you again. It made your heart soar and goosebumps to erupt along your skin. 

But you want to drive him crazy with your absence, to have him question if what happened that night in his bedroom was as real as it felt. Gaslighting himself into believing it was all just a dream, something his conscience had made up to relieve him temporarily of the hardships of his job.

Part of the sick enjoyment you get comes from your cat and mouse game, with you being the gamemaster. The one who sets the rules and decides when plays are allowed to be made.

You want him to be vigilant, to shine a light against every shadow that crosses his path in hopes that it’s you, the sexy little thing that’s been preying on him for longer than he knows. 

You want to edge him with the anticipation of your next move.

This move won’t happen until further down the line. Things have been tense in the circumstances that overlap both of your careers. Government distrust grows more and more by the day, the drug traffickers get richer by the second.

You just haven’t had the time to follow him as thoroughly as you have been.

Which is why you sunk your claws into someone in his inner circle, a Neil Stoddard that works directly beneath your agent. It had taken you a few tries, causally bumping into him at the market or during a morning jog, until enough rapport was built and you finally convinced him to feed you information on DEA operations.

He was hesitant at first, but you’ve been told that you can be very persuasive; always knowing exactly what to say, which cadence to use and how to shift your body language to match the conversation. Showcasing your skill, you manage to get just about every little detail that you can from the younger agent before anyone else.

It benefits you both in your career and in your efforts to keep tabs on him.

You wonder if he thinks about you in the same way you do him. Does he constantly replay that rainy night in his head? Does he fuck his fist and close his eyes to think of you, the mysterious woman who broke into his apartment just to get on her knees for him? Swallowed his soul in its entirety and then disappeared off into the night?

Fuck, you hope so, because with each day that passes–– you fall deeper in love with Javier Peña.

You’re walking home from work one day, an extra pep in your step at the good news that one of your projects from graduate school is being looked at by some big name publishers back stateside. The excitement of getting your work published by a well known and reputable paper further inflates your ego and the passion that you have for your career.

So you decide to buy something nice for yourself, a materialized pat on the back for being so good at what you do. You enter a quaint antique store that’s nestled in the small plaza a few blocks from your apartment building, eyeing some of the merchandise they have on display.

You’re contemplating whether you want to purchase a set of stained glass table lamps when a distinct glint catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

You turn to see a beautiful engagement ring on display behind the glass counter, its shimmer immediately drawing you to it. You set the lamps down carefully, walking over to the counter to get a better look at the piece of jewelry.

The ring’s silver band is elegantly slender. Intricate filigree work adorns the outer surface with delicate patterns of vines and tiny flowers that spiral gracefully around it. 

At the center sits a stunning marquise cut diamond, its facets catching the light in a soft, romantic sparkle.

You stare at it in awe, imagining it around your finger after he slips it on, still on one knee, while those captivating brown eyes of his stare up at you in nothing but pure love and adoration.

His fiancée. His wife.

Calling the attendant over, she happily lets you try it on incase it needs to be resized.

It doesn’t. It fits just right, making your hand look very lovely. You wriggle your fingers, giggling as it catches the light.

You purchase it, obviously, having her place it in a small, velvety box that you slide into your bag as you thank her for her help; leaving the shop just to walk a few stores down to where they sell lingerie.

There, you buy a new outfit–– this one much more risque than the leather dress that’s neatly tucked away in your closet.

With a small dent in your account, your career on the path of blossoming, and your delusions for him reaching another peak; you go home and plan your next move.

Stoddard tells you about the raid planned to capture Miguel Rodríguez and the fake out involved, since the last time they had targeted him–– bureaucratic bullshit had gotten in the way and prevented the arrest. Something involving the man hiding in the walls and a DEA agent using a sledgehammer to get him out.

Apparently there’s a mole within the Colombian government that’s making it hard to bring the narcos to justice. What’s new? Amidst all this, he mentions how the boss is going to stay behind while everyone else in the department travels to Cali.

This bit of information piques your interest but you keep your reaction neutral. The velvet box in your bag is burning a hole through the leather, reminding you of its existence. You haven’t worn the ring since you tried it on, saving it for the perfect moment.

Like the one that’s just manifested itself.

You get the details of this operation, specifically paying attention to the times so you know at what pace you’ll have to work with.

If your calculations are correct, he’d be all alone in the office well into the night.

You’re an adrenaline junky, clearly, since the idea of sneaking into a government building just to seek pleasure from the DEA attaché has your entire body crackling with electricity.

You thank him as you go your separate ways. The raid is in two days, which will give you more than enough time to get prepared.

Getting ready mellows you out entirely, the only nerves you feel are those of excitement at the prospect of seeing your agent tonight. You’re currently in the bath, your favorite candle lit and on your second glass of wine.

It’d be a massive win for him if they’re able to follow through with the plan. Two of the head honchos in cuffs and behind bars, even if it was the lax walls of a Colombian prison.

Surely it warrants some kind of reward. You did tell him that he’d see you again whenever he did something that was worth your presence. Worth your body.

It could have come sooner, but between the disappearance of Guillermo Pallomari, Christina Jurado’s kidnapping and then Franklin Jurado’s death; fate had other plans.

He just couldn’t catch a break. For his sake, you hope they’re able to get that motherfucker tonight.

Finishing up in the bath, your skin is smooth like the delicate petals of a flower and you smell like a candy shop, all hydrated and plump and ready to be ravaged.

You go through the motions of doing your hair and makeup, this time aiming for a bolder look.

Sharp cat eye liner, classic red lip, thick lashes. You want to mimic the sultry models you see in the high-end magazines.

Dolling yourself up for him is part of your foreplay. You enjoy watching your own transformation, going from a steadfast journalist to a seductive minx at the wave of a makeup brush.

Would he find you attractive? Not your feline alter ego but the real you. The one that camps out in her car more often than not to stalk him, fast food wrappers littering the seats. The woman who broke into his apartment and masturbated using his pillows. The woman using his subordinate to get information about him and his highly classified work operations.

Would the illusion break after so many encounters? Would the allure of your salacious activities dim until that fire is completely smothered with the reality of what you’ve been doing?

Would he even want you if he knew the truth?

You stare at your reflection in the vanity mirror, not even realizing your eyes have glazed over with tears at these thoughts. Your heart aches at the nonexistent rejection.

No, snap out of it. Now is not the time to be thinking of this shit.

Shaking your head, you swiftly get your act together and change into your outfit for the night.

The lingerie set is the epitome of classic elegance with a sexy edge. It consists of a bra, panties, and a garter belt, each piece meticulously designed to celebrate your natural curves and skin tone.

The bra is a balconette style, the cups a luxurious black lace with intricate floral patterns, sheer enough to tease yet opaque enough to leave some things to the imagination. The underwire provides a gentle lift, enhancing the shape of your breasts, while the straps, adorned with tiny satin bows, add a touch of femininity.

The matching panties are a cheeky bikini cut. The front panel is made from the same black lace as the bra, with a subtle scalloped edge that sits gently against your hips. The back is a sheer mesh, offering a tantalizing glimpse of skin with a small satin bow at the waistband. Your ass looks so good.

The garter belt is the pièce de résistance, tying the entire set together. It sits high on your waist, cinching in to create an hourglass silhouette. Four straps extend down, each finished with satin ribbon accents to hold up your thigh-high stockings securely.

You add the accessories: diamond earrings gifted to you by your grandmother, your simple black stilettos and finally–– the ring you purchased at the antique store.

Now in front of a full length mirror, you can’t help but run your hands all over your body. Fuck looking like the high end models from Vogue–– you resemble a god damn Playboy star; sexy enough to warrant your very own centerfold in the magazine.

Maybe you should invest in some bunny ears. Try and be a conejita for one night.

This is what you’d wear on your wedding night, you think, eyes not leaving your reflection as the ring twinkles beneath your bedroom lights. You wouldn’t even wear it in white, the black lace an homage to the erotic start of your relationship with the DEA agent. Your husband.

Your cat mask sits on the bed, right next to your polaroid camera. After you finish eye fucking yourself, you crawl onto the matress and slip it on; obscuring your face in the sexiest way possible.

With all the fuckery he’s had to deal with as of late, you decided you were going to leave some souvenirs behind. A few visuals for him to look at during lonely nights instead of lolling around on his balcony like a neglected puppy.

You begin taking the photos, contorting your body into different erotic positions, getting the best angles. It all comes to you naturally, you’re good behind and in front of the camera.

After a dozen or so snaps of your tits, your ass, your thighs and some cheeky ones of your pretty cunt, you let them develop and take the mask off, putting on a basic satin slip dress to hide your lingerie. 

You were going to be out in a more public space, you didn’t want to risk something happening and for that to leave you basically naked in the streets of Bogotá.

Tossing your belongings into your bag, you drive to the embassy, parking around the back to keep your vehicle hidden from any prying eyes. How ironic. 

The familiar trench coat sits on your shoulders, tied close to keep your naughty outfit out of sight. Your bag hangs from the curve of the inside of your elbow, the kitten mask nestled at the bottom, just waiting for you to don it once more.

In this moment, you feel like one of those cliché romance tropes: surprising your husband at work with skimpy clothes under a fucking coat.

You snort at the realization, but you’re kind of loving this.

When you push open the door to the building, you notice how quiet and empty it is. At the large front desk, an older officer straightens his posture at your entrance.

“Identificación, por favor.”

You bite your lip, praying to god that this works, and dig into your bag to pull out your press lanyard. It has your name on it, what paper you work for along with a photograph that was taken your first day on the job.

You hand it over and he eyes it then you suspiciously, taking in your done up appearance.

“I’ve got some photographs developing in the lab here. Lost track of time at the office which is why I’m stopping by so late. I’ll just be in and out, no worries.” You explain in English with a gentle lilt, hoping that your status as an American will sway him into letting you up.

He hands you back your lanyard. “I’m not supposed to let anyone who isn't employed here in after a certain time. Lo siento, señorita. Regresa mañana.”

Your eye twitches in annoyance at the denial, your skin prickling with frustration.

You have to see him tonight. No matter what. This senile idiot isn’t going to stop you.

“I didn’t want to do this…” You begin with a sigh, leaning forward against the desk and your coat opens up just enough for him to get a good look down your cleavage, “But I’m also here to visit my fiancé, mi prometido.” You bring your left hand up for him to see the ring that adorns your finger, “He’s been having some tough days and I wanted to surprise him. I’m sure you know him. Javier Peña.”

Now this gets his attention, snapping his gaze from ogling your cleavage to meet your eyes.

“Ah, si, Javier Peña. El jefe de la DEA.”

You nod, seeing his resolve dissipating, and he lazily waves his hand, signaling that you’re good to go up.

“Muchas gracias señor, que tenga buena noche.”

Fuck. Yes. Your nerves morph into excitement as you step into the elevator, hitting the button that goes to his floor.

Pretending to be his to a complete stranger has put you further into a mood, feeling your pulse quickening at the idea of doing it again. Of deceiving the world, warping reality to play into your delusions of being happily engaged to a man who doesn’t even know what you look like.

The elevator comes to a stop, the silver doors opening up to a narrow hallway with various rooms and offices on either side. If you recall correctly, his is further down the hall which is perfect because you need to set your belongings down before making your grand entrance.

You find a place for your things behind the stairwell door, knowing that’s how you’re going to make your escape tonight. You didn’t want to walk past the security guard again and you didn’t want to give him enough time to chase you down into the elevator.

You strip the satin dress, stuffing it into your bag and leaving you just in your undergarments. The polaroids you took are nestled into an envelope and put into the pocket of your trench coat once you have it back on, pulling out your mask and gently bringing it over your face. You apply one final stroke of red lipstick and slip the mesh gloves over your fingers before sneaking your way down the hall.

You press your back against the wall, the tap of your heels muted due to the carpeted floor. Fluttering your eyes close, you force your brain to focus on sound— trying to discern if he is here alone or if he has company.

After a few minutes of listening, you come to the conclusion that he is alone so you just barely poke your head around the corner, eyes scanning the dark room.

It looks like a typical office. Desks sprawled about, a bigger one at the front which you assume to be the secretary’s. The usual fluorescents are dimmed, bathing the room in a transparent darkness.

Across the space is his personal office. It looks like a giant fishbowl at the end of the room, giant windows lining every wall. The blinds are open, giving you a good view of him sitting at the edge of his desk, the phone pressed up to his ear while his large hand nurses a glass of his favorite amber liquor, the familiar cigarette hanging from pointer and middle finger.

You hum diligently. How is he always so fucking handsome?

With catlike suaveness, you move across the room and closer to his office, noticing that the door is ajar, giving you the opportunity to listen in on the call.

Your eyes flit up to the analog clock that hangs on the opposite wall. They’re about to move in on Miguel. 

The tension of this moment, the pure suspense does nothing but aid you and your sexual desires. Whatever news he gets, whether it’s good or bad, you’ll be here to console him… with open arms, and open legs, and an open mouth.

Now that you’re closer, you get a better look at him in his typical work outfit. Rolled up white button up, midnight blue slacks and a loose tie. You wonder if he took off the jacket recently or if he’s been walking around like this for a few hours.

Small details like that matter to you. 

You can’t make out the garbling coming from the phone, but you do see the way he exhales and how his shoulders drop. He closes his eyes letting his wispy lashes fan across his skin. Tension rolls off his body in pure relief as he hears that Miguel Rodríguez has finally been arrested and Salcedo was able to get his family safe. 

He returns the phone to the receiver after a few moments, his thick fingers dragging along the plastic and the simple action has a puddle gathering in your panties.

Standing, he makes his way to the large window that overlooks the downtown area of the capitol, the bustling nightlife illuminating the black night sky.

His back is to you, much like the first time you did this dance, smoke from his cigarette curling around him as he takes lengthy drags in self reflection.

You just watch him, once more under his spell while you remain crouched in the shadows.

He’s been through so much, you know this. All the shit with Escobar, getting into bed with drug dealers and murderers just to catch him, only to be taken off right at the end then returning to finish off Cali. 

God that must have been so… depressing. You wish you would have known him then, before the job molded him into more of a cynic.

You just want to comfort and hold him. To love him with every molecule of your existence. 

Don’t worry, mi amor, I’m right here.

With that, you make your appearance, slowly standing and opening the door further.

The shift in the air at your presence has the hairs on the back of his neck standing and he turns his head to the side, catching your silhouette from his peripheral.

“Hola, gatita.”

His voice is smooth and it drips straight to your clit.

“Hey handsome.” 

You close the door behind you, leaning against it as he fully faces you. His brown eyes scan you from head to toe before he moves to sit in the large chair behind his desk, stubbing out his cigarette against the overfilled ashtray.

“You know…” He grunts out, resting his forearm atop of his head lazily as he leans back, “I prayed tonight’s operation would play out as planned. Not because of the metaphorical nail in Cali’s coffin, but in hopes that the win would lure you out.”

“Is that so?” Your heart is racing at his words and his evident craving for you. You try not falter as you slowly make your way around his office, shutting the blinds as you go.

There’s six windows. You’ve got five more to go.

“Mhm,” he hums, glossy eyes following you around the small space, “I just got confirmation that Miguel is in cuffs. On his way to Bogotá. And not even a few minutes later… well, here you are.”

“Here I am…” you flirt, moving on to the next window.

Then the fourth… third…

“How did you know?”

Only two more until you’re secluded in a little bubble of privacy.

“Call it a woman's intuition.”

His jaw ticks, not liking the answer but also not making a fuss out of it. Yet. He wants to enjoy you tonight, to become the keeper of time so he can drag out the hours and devote himself wholly to you. 

He’s missed you entirely too much. It’s a different feeling, this yearning that nips at him. Hardly ever does he think twice about the women he sleeps with.

But there’s something about you and how you popped up in his life so suddenly. How you turned his world on its head.

A kitten size hole has been left in his heart since you left him on his bedroom floor like a toy you weren’t interested in playing with anymore. 

You finish shutting the blinds, turning to face him as he manspreads himself out on his leather chair, rubbing his palm along his clothed thigh. It makes you want to pounce on it, to rub your wet pussy all over him in the same way you had gotten yourself off on his pillow.

You can practically feel his muscles contracting, the slight flex snapping a sharp orgasm out of you. 

“How are you going to thank me tonight, gatita?” His demeanor is vastly different than last time; he’s exuberating some of that dominance you know he possesses.

You remain silent, your gloved hand digging in the pocket of your coat as you pull out the envelope with your pictures in it, bringing it up to teasingly wave around.

His name is neatly written in cursive against the paper and his brows raise in surprise. He hadn’t expected an actual, tangible token of appreciation.

“This is for all your troubles. I know how hard it’s been in your world recently.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. Granted, anyone can observe that his job is fucking difficult without knowing the specifics.

But it’s the way you said it, as if you know more than what you should.

You place the envelope in between your teeth, some of your red lipstick smudging against it as your gaze remains locked on his. Your hands make work of the belt that’s kept your trench coat closed, tugging at it until it’s undone. 

The air is charged in pure lustful electricity as the fabric falls from your shoulders and pools around your feet.

“Congratulations on your arrest, agente.”

The grip on his whiskey glass tightens, golden eyes turning an onyx color as he drinks in your scandalous appearance like a man who’s been denied the basic necessity of water his entire life.

“You’re killing me here, bebita.”

You giggle, scrunching your nose beneath the mask and the sound of your flirty laugh has his lips pulling up into a small smile. 

“Come closer. Let me get a better look at you.”

You comply obediently, placing one foot in front of the other before he abruptly stops you.

“Gatea como lo hiciste la última vez.”

Oh shit, your legs turn into jello at the command and immediately you fall to your knees, feeling the scratchy carpet through your stockings. 

“Good girl. Me encanta cuando haces caso.” He praises and you moan softly, crawling towards him on your hands and knees, the envelope still between your teeth.

He takes a sip of his drink, still lounging and keeping a cool demeanor, yet not relenting with the heavy stare he’s laying on you.

His eyes make out every curve of your body, how the shimmer from your lotion makes you glimmer like a shooting star. If he could close his eyes and make a wish right now, he’d wish to know who you really are.

You stop once you’re in between his legs and he stares at you for a good long minute before leaning forward, finishing off whatever was left of his whiskey and setting the empty glass aside.

His thumb and index fingers pinch your chin, moving your jaw to tilt upward so he can look down into your lovely eyes. The pair he sees every time he closes his own.

“Let’s see what you’ve brought me.”

He pulls the envelope from your mouth, your saliva leaving it damp but he doesn’t give a damn.

He opens it up, eyebrows quirking at the sight of the polaroid photos as he carefully analyzes each and every single one.

You’re hanging on to every reaction he gives, the way his eyes map every inch of your figure and how you photographed yourself for him.

It’s there, in the pictures, that he sees it. The ring. His brows pull together in confusion, his gaze flickering down to your hands that are resting on your thighs.

“Let me see your left hand, baby.”

The statement has a warmth blossoming in your stomach. You’re certain he can see your heartbeat pounding against your chest.

Tentatively you bring your hand up, resting it on his knee. 

He sets the photos on his desk then delicately removes the glove, calloused fingers taking your hand in his as he eyes the beautiful ring.

“This wasn’t here last time… ¿te comprometiste, gatita? Been giving that dirty mouth and pussy to someone else, hmm?” He places a kiss on the diamond, his dark eyes now boring into you.

Your thighs clench together at the intensity of the moment and you shake your head earnestly, wanting to dispel those thoughts from his mind entirely.

There is no one else. Just you.

“No. It’s all for you Javi. I just—” Your words get jumbled up, lost on your tongue as the sexy facade slips for a moment while you try and find the right words to explain your possessive, matrimonial fantasy to him.

“All for me, huh?” He’s getting a kick out of your nervous state, dropping your hand and motioning for you to give him the other as he takes the glove off of it too.

“All for you. I’m yours.” You say in a shaky breath, “This ring… it’s my way of pretending that it’s all real… that you’re mine too.” That you want me the same way I want you.

Silence cloaks the both of you, his face set in an unreadable expression.

“You don’t have to pretend, gatita. It can be real. Just let me see you.” He goes to unmask you again but you turn your head to the side to keep him from doing so.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It won’t be fun anymore.” Translation: I’m fucking scared that you’re not going to want the real me.

“So? We could have so much more fun without all this.” His pointer finger traces the lacey cat ears, “Not that I mind this. It’s sexy as hell.”

You look at him again, seeing the sincerity in his stare but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

“No,” you repeat, a little harsher, “And if you try to take it off again I will disappear and you will never see me again.” 

You rise from the floor, trying to regain some of the control that’s slipped from your grasp. His jaw sets, hands coming up to grip your waist, pulling your body to him until his curved nose runs along your belly.

You gasp softly.

“Tan mala mi gatita bella. Luckily for you I like to work for it.”

He begins to place open mouthed kisses all over your midriff, biting the garter belt and pulling on it so it snaps back onto your skin with a delicious sting.

Your head falls onto your shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his lips. You bring your fingers down to run through his hair, enjoying how silken it is.

His strong hands move from your waist around to your ass, digging his nails into the supple skin while he kneads it, groaning at how soft you are. 

“Didn’t get to touch on this pretty body last time. M’not gonna make that mistake again. Bend over the desk, muñequita. Ahora.” He slaps your ass harshly and you squeal, feeling a fresh wave of wetness soaking your folds.

He relinquishes his hold on you, rolling his chair back to give you room to situate yourself in the position he wants to see you in.

You bend at the waist, your heels making the posture look extra sensual as your breasts press against the wooden surface. 

You hold your breath, anticipating what he does next. 

He gets up from the chair, his touch light as a feather as he traces from the top of your spine down to where the arch in your back is. His hands then go to grip your wrists, moving them so they’re pinned at your lower back.

“Gonna have to keep those pretty pictures on me at all times, gatita. Can’t risk someone else seeing what’s mine. I’d have to kill them.”

His possessiveness further turns you on, and now you want for those pictures to fall in the wrong hands. Just to see how he’d react.

He leans over you, placing kisses on the back of your shoulders, moving your hair to the side to expose more of your flushed skin to him. You turn your head, resting your cheek against the desk as you briefly make eye contact with him.

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” You reply and he smirks, kissing the corner of your mouth.

His lips trail down the same path he just traced, working his way down until he’s kneeled behind you, his breath fanning over your sopping pussy.

Your hips twitch instinctively, the pressure between your legs becoming unbearable. You need to feel him on you, whether it’s that sinful mouth of his or those deliciously thick fingers. Something, anything.

As if reading your mind, he brings his hand up to grope your backside enticingly, running his fingers beneath the band of your stockings, your skin feeling like melting butter beneath his touch.

“Been thinking about this since you left me last time. I should have kept you from leaving, should have buried myself in between your pretty legs instead.”

You lick your lips, “Then stop talking and do it.”

He wastes no time in landing a harsh slap against your ass, the skin rippling beneath the touch and you yelp out in both surprise and excitement.

“Eres una gatita tan traviesa. Voy a tener que domesticarté nena.”

Another harsh slap, then another, then another. With each sting you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm which is a bit pathetic since he hasn’t even touched you like that and you’re already a buzzing, dripping fucking mess.

Each mewl that falls from your lips urges him to continue until he’s satisfied with the flush on each of your cheeks.

His fingers then move to fist the flimsy material of your panties, harshly tugging it until the thin fabric disappears in between your folds and the slight burn from it digging into your sensitive flesh does wonders for the throbbing at your core.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, bebita, just like I knew it’d be. Look at her, all wet for me. You like getting spanked, don’t you?”

You moan loudly, completely at a loss for words as you nod your head, cheek still pressed to the desk.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Had so much to say last time.” His palm connects with your ass again, coaxing a verbal reply from you.

“Yes Javi, fuck I love being spanked. Love feeling your hands all over me.”

He hums in content, slowly pulling down the ruined underwear off your legs until you’re fully exposed to him. “Since you won’t let me see your gorgeous face, I want you to show off this sweet cunt of yours. Spread her open for me, gatita.”

Exhaling shakily, you move your hands from your lower back until you've got a good grip on your own body, spreading your pussy open so he can see all of you.

For a split second you feel self conscious, not being able to see his reaction as you lay open and vulnerable to him.

That dissipates quickly, however, when you hear his satisfied keen then feel his nose skimming against the plush skin of the back of your thighs, kissing your wrist.

“Now I’m going to taste you.” He repeats your own words back to you, his voice low and deep and fuck are you in love with this man.

His hot, wet tongue licks the length of your slit and you can’t control the noise that you make, sighing his name out. Your skin erupts in chills when he does it again, the coarse hairs of his mustache prickling against your swollen cunt.

“Tan dulce. Dunno how you’re going to pull me off of her.”

And with that, he fully immerses himself in your pussy. He’s desperate, licking every inch of you that he can, savoring the tangy taste of your sex. He sucks onto your folds before hardening his tongue and rapidly flicking the tip against your clit. This has you struggling to keep yourself spread open for him, writhing at his ministrations.

“Oh my fucking god Javier your tongue, holy shit…” You babble, absolutely blissed out as his strong nose nuzzles against your entrance, the tip of it inside of you.

He groans, absolutely pussy drunk, rendering him a scrambled mess as he further buries his face into you, his big strong hands working your thighs, this time actually ripping your stockings.

Making out with your pussy passionately, your arousal drips from his mouth and down his jaw. He pulls back, a stringy glob of your fluids following like a cut open aloe vera plant. His thumb brushes against your clit as he spits onto your cunt, smearing his saliva all over before he slips two fingers inside you.

You clench immediately, crying out his name as his digits stretch you open. “So fucking tight gatita. You gonna squeeze my dick like this?”

Your knees just about give out at the promise of feeling his impressive girth inside of you. You hadn’t planned to actually fuck him tonight, not wanting to spoil the erotic nature of your visits by just giving him your pussy.

But now, as he’s ravishing and fingering you with such vigor and your vision beginning to blur as a sign of your incoming orgasm, you’re back tracking on that decision entirely.

You need him to fuck you. You might just die if he doesn’t.

He curls his fingers at your lack of response, the tips of them brushing up against that spot that makes you jolt, your chest rising from the desk while your thighs tighten.

“Stay put and answer the fucking question,” His free hand moves to roughly push you back down, his mouth joining his fingers on your pussy.

“Fuck yes baby. Gonna squeeze you til I milk every single drop out of that fat fucking cock.” You whimper like you’re in an X rated film, rocking your hips back against him as your stomach tightens. You’re so close.

Content with your answer, he slips in a third finger and harshly sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth, moving his head side to side. That’s enough to have you spill all over him, your body trembling while a mixture of moans and sobs and cries of his name echo out of you like a cock-obsessed woman that needs to be sedated.

Your acrylics dig into the skin of your ass, leaving crescent shaped marks on the flesh.

He continues his relentless assault on your cunt, eating you out through your orgasm. The blood rushing in your ears keeps you from hearing all the filthy things he’s chanting against your skin.

The ring looks so beautiful next to your spent pussy, querida. All mine.

Pulling his fingers from you once you’ve come down from your high, he places a final, more gentle kiss against your clit and you twitch from the oversensitivity.

“Did so good muñeca.” He rises from his kneeled position, the soft sounds of his joints popping having you blink away some of the haziness from your eyes, your body completely limp against his desk.

His hands run along the length of your body before he’s tenderly flipping you over so you’re on your back, the edge of the desk uncomfortably digging into your waist.

Noticing this, he clears some space to make room then lifts you until you’re fully sprawled out on his desk looking absolutely wrecked.

His mustache is damp with your release, lips swollen from him losing himself in the taste of you and drinking all that you have to offer him. Brown eyes remain dark, gaze swimming with longing.

“So handsome…” you mutter dreamily as he hovers over you, his thumb gently caressing the part of your cheek that isn’t covered by the mask.

“I wish you would let me get a good look at you, gatita.” He leans in, kissing your chin then your jaw until he’s trailing down onto the soft skin of your neck.

“Javi…” you sigh out, not only because his lips feel fucking divine but also because you don’t want to have this conversation again.

“I know, I know. You’ll disappear and I’ll never see you again. I got it the first time.”

He cups your breasts in his hands, gently kneading them as he licks down your sternum. He snakes a hand behind you and you arch your back, letting him expertly undo your bra.

The straps are delicately pulled down your shoulder until the garment is completely off, your nipples pebbling as the cool air of his office nips at them.

He wastes no time in wrapping his pouty lips around the sensitive peak and suckling softly. His tongue traces around your areola, grazing his teeth against your nipple which causes you to whine and bring your fingers to entangle in his hair, pressing your chest deeper onto his face.

Repeating the action on the other, he lavishes your breasts with attention from his skilled muscle. His facial hair is an added stimulant to your pleasure and your clit pulsates, body ready to have him inside of you.

You roll your hips, feeling his erection brush up against your naked pussy and your breath hitches in your throat.

It’s then that you realize that he’s still fully clothed while you’re practically naked. The only things that adorn your body are your ripped stockings and the garter belt along with your heels.

Tugging him away from your tits, you bring his face up to yours, noses brushing against each other. You can smell your sex on his lips, so you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself and moaning.

“I need you to fuck me, agent.” Your lips brush against his as you speak, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer to you.

His chest rumbles at your request, hands antsy as he caresses and gropes; memorizing all your curves and the feel of your body.

“S’that what my gatita wants? For me to fuck her sweet little pussy?” 

Your answer comes in the form of another passionate kiss with a nod, your tongue intertwining with his then sucking on it softly.  He’s such a good fucking kisser, you could make out with him until your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

He pulls back, quickly beginning to unbutton his shirt in which you assist him, your french tipped nails taking over while he makes work of getting his pants undone and off.

Sliding his shirt off his broad shoulders, you pull him back down to you, lips quickly kissing all over the freshly exposed skin, savoring the warmth radiating off him.

You feel his naked cock pressing against your wet slit and your head cants back, a breathless whimper pushing past your lips while he lets out a deep groan.

“You make such pretty noises, muñeca. Wanna hear them all the time.”

He rubs his plush head against the length of your sopping pussy, collecting the wetness of your arousal.

“Gonna let me fuck this pussy raw, gatita? For all I know you’ve been spreading your legs for half the fuckin’ city.”

Your head spins, body overstimulated by his touch and the words that leave him. 

“Need to feel all of you, Javi. I think about it all the time. No one else. Just you.” You whisper out, once more clenching your thighs around his hips and rolling your own to entice him into slipping inside your tight and needy heat.

He curses, his teasing finally getting to him as he slowly sinks his thick, hard cock inside of you.

You both sigh out in pleasure in unison, your fleshy walls contracting around his length and swallowing him in, almost in the same manner in which your throat had all those nights ago. 

Every part of your body is eager to feel him somehow, your obsession and insatiable craving convoluting your being into nothing more than just something to bring him pleasure.

“Goddamn nena te sientes tan rica. Este cuerpecito está hecho para mí.”

He still hasn’t bottomed out and you feel so incredibly full. Your wet dreams have nothing against the real thing. 

“Javiiii, I need you to move. To fuck me hard and fast.” While you know having him rock into you slowly and sensually would feel better than winning the fucking lottery, you need to drop your own self respect and have him take you like the whores he’s so fond of.

He bares his teeth, straightening his posture so he’s no longer hovering over you. He readjusts your legs to sit higher on his waist.

“Was goin’ slow to give you the chance to get used to me baby pero la gatita quiere mas and I can’t help but spoil you, hermosa.”

Without warning, he snaps his hips into yours and you gasp loudly, the burn of him stretching you out adds vicious heat to your already hot cunt.

“Oh just like that Javi please…” you sob as he begins to fuck you just as you asked. Hard and fast. 

“Pobrecita. Can’t even take what she’s asking for.” He fucking pouts, mocking you and you’re certain that you’ve died and gone straight to horny heaven.

The desk moves with every thrust; pens, papers and other items hitting the floor. 

He roughly takes ahold of your bouncing tits, using them as leverage to keep splitting you open on his cock, your arousal leaving a creamy ring against his flesh and the sight has him going feral.

“Fuck this is the best pussy I’ve ever fucked, querida. So tight and fucking perfect. Bet you’ve never been fucked like this before, huh? S’probably why you came to me. Knew I would take good care of you.”

Your hands grip the edge of the desk, knuckles flushed, to keep you from falling off. The scratchy hairs on the base of his cock brush against your sensitive clit, having you shut your eyes out of pure ecstasy.

You never want this to end.

“Abre esos ojos gatita, you’re already denying me so much by not letting me see your lovely face. At least let me look into those beautiful eyes while I fuck you.” One of his hands leaves your breast, lightly slapping you to get your attention back on him.

As if it ever wavered.

Your eyes blink open, the slight sting across your cheek only bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“D-Do that again.” You plead with a small smirk, squeezing your walls around him and he grunts, slapping your face again.

You moan and he matches your smirk, basking in your reaction.

“Ay nena, eres mi dream girl. Where the fuck have you been all my life?”

His praise paired with the harsh snap of his hips driving his cock deeper is enough to have stars blinding your eyesight as your pussy tightens and your orgasm begins to shoot up your spine.

“Aqui, Javi. I’m right here baby.” Your words slur, absolutely cock drunk.

His torso looks perfectly fucking sculpted, like a god walking amongst men. Different muscles tense and jolt at his movements; you want to bite into his triceps and lick all over his prominent collarbone.

He shifts again, this time throwing your legs over his shoulders and the change in angle has you moaning out like a seasoned pornstar. He places gentle kisses against the inside of your knee, trailing his tongue against the nylon of your stockings before doing the same on the other leg.

This has your pussy feeling tighter and you watch as his own orgasm begins to overtake him.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

Your left hand trails down the length of your torso until it’s at your pulsating clit, the tips of your fingers beginning to rub small circles against the pearl.

His dark eyes fall onto your movements, his tongue running along his teeth slowly.

“Tan hermosa, nena. Look at how that ring looks against your pussy. Do you touch yourself pretending it’s me, tu esposo, gatita?”

You nod, no longer feeling shy about your perverse delusion of belonging to him in a matrimonial sense. “Si, all the time. Think about you coming home to our house and fucking me on our bed. Ay, Javi I’m about to cum.”

His balls clench, jaw ticking as he too begins to slip into this fantasy of yours. “I’d take such good care of you baby. Make sure all of your needs are, fucking christ,” his thrusts stutter, “met. I’d do anything for you.”

And just like that, your orgasm topples over and your back archs off the desk at the intensity of it. Your vision spots, ears ringing as you douse his cock with your cum.

He fucks you through it, muffled words of praise not reaching you since you’re trying to focus on not passing out from pure bliss.

His cock twitches inside of you, feeling you come undone pulling euphoria out of him too.

“Where do you want it, gatita. You better tell me before I cum in this pussy and make you a mamita.”

Oh fuck, while the offer sounds enticing as hell, you know you need to think with a somewhat clear head so you just say, “Cum all over my clit, please.”

You don’t need to tell him twice, he pulls out just enough for the hot ribbons of his spend to messily land on your exposed clit, some of it getting on your knuckles and ring as you lazily rub it in.

He’s cursing up a storm, a tight grip on your thigh as he empties his balls all over your flesh. 

You both are left panting, his cum dripping down your fingers and pussy onto his desk. Blinking slowly, you meet his gaze and bring your digits up to your mouth, sucking them in and humming in content at the taste of your mixed release.

“Sucia,” he spits out before falling to his knees again, giving you no time to fucking react as he buries his face in your freshly used cunt.

“Javier!” You shout, literally shout, as he eats your cum and his out of your sweet pussy. Your fingers shoot down to tangle in his mussed hair, yanking on it without caring if it pains him or not. 

You don’t even realize it but you’re actually crying. The tears falling from the corners of your eyes beneath the mask and onto your cheek.

You’ve never felt this good. Never had a man, or anyone else for that manner, make you feel as sexy and wanted as the agent that’s currently in between your legs. 

When he finally stands, you’re left an incoherent mess and all he does is smirk.

“We taste good, muñeca.”

You whimper, not knowing how the fuck you’re going to recover from this and if you’ll even make it down the flight of stairs that awaits you for your departure.

Javier’s after care consists of placing soft kisses all over you, whispering sweet words to help bring you back to him. He caresses you again, this time being mindful of your over sensitivity.

He kisses along your thighs and tummy then moves up to each breast. His fingers graze along your skin and when he’s finally at your mouth, your lips meet in a kiss that surpasses any of the other ones you’ve shared with him.

Your mask makes it a little awkward at first but neither of you seem to care, too lost in the feeling of the other. It’s sensual and slow, all the unspoken things felt between the two of you being relayed during this interlock.

He pulls back, resting his forehead against the lace and plastic of your kitten mask. Your red lipstick is smeared all over his handsome face.

The lust in his brown eyes has now been replaced with something else that you can’t quite put your finger on, and that’s enough to snap you out of your trance and you gently push at his chest.

“I have to go.”

He scoffs, not moving from over you, “You don’t.”

“I do, Javi.” You say, a little more forcefully, which gets him to pull away.

Your panties and bra are on the other side of the room and you slide from the desk to retrieve them, wobbling as you go.

You’re going to be feeling him for days.

“How many more times are we going to do this? What’s the endgame here?”

You pull your underwear up your legs, cringing at how uncomfortable the damp material feels against your swollen core.

“There is no endgame. We’re just messing around.”

With your bra back on, you move to retrieve your trench coat which means you have to face him now.

He’s leaning against his desk like he had been when you first arrived, pants undone but up on his hips again.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to sneak in whenever you need a good fuck?”

You laugh dryly, crossing the room to get your coat but he grabs you by the forearm once you pass him; halting you in your spot.

“Javier,” You warn.

“You’re breaking my fucking heart, baby.”

You stare at him, wanting nothing more than to rip the mask off and confess to him how much he means to you despite this being anything but a conventional relationship.

As delusional as you’ve tended to be as of late, you know he’s way out of your league. He doesn’t go after girls like you.

Girls that are easy to dismiss and forget in the pouring rain.

“Same rules as last time: you’re not going to follow me out or stop me. Are we clear?”

He tightens his grip on your arm and you narrow your eyes.

“Are we clear?”

He’s silent but finally lets go and you don’t hesitate to grab and put on your coat.

You’re so eager to leave that you don’t notice your press lanyard has slipped out of your pocket as you’re making your way to the door.

He stands from his seated position and you brace yourself for yet another attempt at him trying to change your mind.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, you hear the flick of a lighter and that’s enough to get you to turn the doorknob and leave without another word. 

Javier smokes the entire cigarette to calm his racing heart before he lazily begins to clean up the mess you two made in his office.

He’s lost in his thoughts, all consisting of you, until he spots the lanyard in the corner.

Picking it up, he looks at it quizzically before flipping it over. His jaw tightens once he sees your face, the familiarity of your lips and eyes luring him in.

He’s got a clear view now and it strikes him entirely, heart fluttering as he takes in your appearance. 

He reads your name, as if tasting it on his tongue, and the outlet you work for out loud. He recognizes you from somewhere but he just can’t remember where.

This is going to pick at him like an unhealed scab. But at least Javier knows who you are now.

Of course she’s a reporter. Things are starting to make more sense.

Translations:

Identificación, por favor - Identification please

Lo siento, señorita. Regresa mañana - I'm sorry ma’am. Come back tomorrow

El jefe de la DEA - The head of the DEA

Muchas gracias señor, que tenga buena noche - Thank you very much sir, have a good night

Gatea como lo hiciste la última vez - Crawl like you did last time

bebita - baby girl

agente - agent

muñeca - doll

Me encanta cuando haces caso.

¿te comprometiste, gatita? - Are you engaged, kitten?

Tan mala mi gatita bella. - My beautiful kitten is so bad

Eres una gatita tan traviesa. Voy a tener que domesticarté nena. - You are such a naughty kitten. I'm going to have to tame you baby.

Tan dulce. - So sweet

Goddamn nena te sientes tan rica. Este cuerpecito está hecho para mí. - Goddamn baby you feel so good. This little body is made for me.

pero la gatita quiere mas - but the kitten wants more

Abre esos ojos gatita - open those eyes

esposo - husband

sucia - dirty

[yoonieper]

For the Birds— Part 3 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri) 

♡ Genre: angst, smut

♡ Rated: T for Treachery 

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation! 

♡ Chapter Warnings: Jungkook is really repressed, su*cidal thoughts (somewhat vague), cheating, masturbation (m), edging, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol), horny thoughts, public sex (kinda), lots of making out, dry humping, thigh fucking kinda (m), premature ejaculation(ish?), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (nope!)

♡ Word Count: 34.5k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Low by SZA— see masterlist for playlist! 

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover @teawithhoneyandlemon and @mellowladyanchor for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! Betas get early access to chapters, so if you're free to help out and can't wait for next chapter, consider joining the team!!!

♡ Author’s Note: This chapter was such a pain to get done 😭, but please enjoy this behemoth of a chapter! Nice and spicy with a side of tears! My specialty~ This is like the true part 1 of the series so ;)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Jungkook yawned and tried to blink away the tears that had formed to soothe his stinging, dry eyes. A sigh escaped his lips before he turned his head to face the clock that sat ticking away on his nightstand. 

6:58am.

Nearly a whole hour until his phone would begin buzzing and the drum solo he set as his alarm would go off. He still had some time to get the sleep he needed, yet no matter what he did, Jungkook couldn’t drift off like he wanted to. He had a long day ahead of him, normally he would never wake up this early, but today of all days, this had to happen.

Jungkook had gone to bed thinking about you. It started off simple, it was like a routine. He would usually take some time to establish a checklist for his next day, especially during times like these where he was normally so busy. Yuri had rested peacefully beside him while he stared at the ceiling trying to remember everything he had planned for tomorrow. It was just meant to be a reminder to himself that he couldn’t go home early, that he couldn’t forget to meet you after work, that he needed to make sure to text the chef not to wait on him to make it home, and that he had to tell Yuri he wasn’t going to be back ‘till late, not that she really even cared. But the second you entered his train of thought, that was enough to keep you in his head, and in consequence, the moments with you the day before started replaying in his mind as he tried to finally close his eyes and go to sleep.

He thought about how impressive you were during your presentation. You were settling into your new role so well; it was astounding to witness. You were always so poised, confident, and everyone admired you, he did too. Later that day, you both would be working alone together. Maybe it was the time he could ask you how you do it.

Then his mind drifted to his brief moment he spent talking to you. Why was he so awkward? The embarrassment made him bury his head in the pillow, a sad attempt to shield himself from the memory of your confused gaze meeting his eyes while his panicked brain tried to find the words he wanted to say. Why did he always find it hard to speak to you like a normal person? It was about work and he’d even practiced what to say during the meeting. However, like always, the minute he tapped your shoulder and you turned around to look at him, his brain just went blank.

That made him think about you even more, your expression as he stumbled over his words while he asked you to stay late with him. He didn’t know when it happened, but his attention had drifted from your face and zoomed in on the purple blouse you wore yesterday— you had looked really good. 

With thoughts of you on his mind, finally Jungkook was able to turn his brain off to the point he could sleep for a few hours. However, even in his slumber, he wasn’t safe from being bombarded with thoughts of you and your meeting. His tired mind thought about your blouse and running the silk between his fingers. He imagined your face, your red-tinted lips, and he thought about how confident you were during the presentation. You had led the meeting so well despite how quickly he knew you had to prepare for it. 

He had no idea how it happened, but instead of him sitting back and watching you from the head of the table like he remembered, suddenly he was facing the board room; you were now in front of him, on the table, and in his arms. Your skirt was bunched around your waist— he hadn’t seen it happen, but he knew it was because of him. Your lips were hastily chasing his and your arms were wrapped around his neck, clutching on to him for dear life as he pounded into you right there on the meeting table.

You made such pretty sounds for him— he wished he could recall them better when he woke up, all his hazy mind could remember in good detail was how nice it felt to be inside you. You felt so good, every move he made inside your warmth had him feeling like he was on the verge of losing his mind. Tears filled his eyes quicker than he thought possible— but then, he was actually crying.

Jungkook had pulled away. He didn’t know when, but suddenly he was staring at the blurred faces of all the executives that were in the meeting room.

“He’s pathetic.”

“I can’t believe he’s cheating on his wife.”

“He’s just like his parents.”

“Bastard.”

“Why would we trust someone like him to run the company?”

He couldn’t pick apart the voices, but the prosecution was distinct, and he heard every word so clearly. They never moved, he couldn’t even see their faces, but their words had tears rolling down his cheeks like a riverbank after a summer storm. They wouldn’t stop, but neither could he because you just felt so fucking good he could care less about what they say at this point. Jungkook was so desperate, it wouldn’t have mattered if they were in the middle of the most devastating, earth-shattering, cosmic event where the walls were crumbling around him and the floor was ready to swallow him whole; nothing was going to stop him from feeling you.

Nevertheless, the voices were all so loud in the background, it was mind numbing. He just wanted to enjoy this, but he knew he didn’t deserve to. They were right after all, what was he doing?! His body wanted it more than words could describe, but his mind was constantly telling him he shouldn’t do this, that he needed to listen and remember his wife, to remember Yuri, except he couldn’t. The fact that the judgmental remarks of the executives weren’t enough to stop him in his quest to have you, spoke volumes, and it just made the ache in his heart even worse.

Jungkook yearned to remember more of you instead of the accusations, like how it felt to have you that close. He wished he took in every detail— your expression as he pushed inside you, your lips against his, or recalled if he got the chance to kiss the exposed skin revealed by your off-the-shoulder, purple blouse like he had wanted to all day.

When he woke up, his room was still dark, his face was wet with sweat and tears, and he was painfully hard. It hurt so much, Jungkook panicked at first as he reached under the cover hoping his sinful dream hadn’t resulted in a mess— Yuri would hate him so much if it did. That happened once and she’d screamed at him all day about how disgusting he was. But no, this wasn’t that type of dream, but a dream nonetheless that created a horrible problem.

In desperation, Jungkook looked over to Yuri, who was still sleeping next to him, and considered waking her up to help him. Would she? He’s tried his best to do everything she asked, but he knew it would only make her hate him further.

Everything Jungkook did made her hate him even more.

And fixing this himself was off the table— he couldn’t stoop to a level that low. He’d done well for so long, he wouldn’t give up now; it’s what he kept telling himself, but everything inside his body was screaming for him to run to the bathroom and fix this. But how pitiful would that be?

He couldn’t, he just fucking couldn’t. It’s just been so long, too long…

Jungkook both wished and dreaded for Yuri to wake up. He didn’t want her to see him like this, he knew he looked pitiful right now, but he knew she’d make him forget about his dream in no time.

There was no excuse, the only person who he should be fantasizing about is his wife; but you, you just won’t leave him alone. With your short skirts, pretty red lips, and unwavering confidence. It’s only gotten worse as the months have passed— so much worse, he could hardly look at you without remembering what his sinful imagination had pictured of you. He was so disgusting, so fucking disgusting.

Every day he hoped Yuri would put him out his misery— in his most desperate moments, he’d thought about telling her what’s filled his imagination, wishing that it would make her fuck the thoughts of his coworker out of him.

His frustration has affected his marriage, he knew that. He’d been so irritable these days, how in the world could he be the perfect husband if he really couldn’t stop thinking with his dick for five seconds? But he was trying, he really was, but not hard enough.

That’s why he’d been laying here for the last twenty minutes. He had to be on his best behavior, he had to show Yuri he really was trying— no matter how much it hurt, he wouldn’t give into such deplorable urges. He wanted to be good for her. 

At first, Jungkook tried to go back to sleep. The minute he opened his eyes and felt his problem, he’d just hope going back to bed would be the solution. He’d tried to get comfortable, pulling up the covers again, but the minute he shut his eyes all he could see was you and your bunched up skirt while he pounded you into the table.

Jungkook hated sleeping on his stomach, he never knew why he ended up like that when he’d fallen asleep lying on his back or his side sometimes— but the position had his hips hastily chasing into the mattress searching for some type of friction. And it only got worse as he imagined you laying right underneath him.

He flipped over so he was on his back, but his pajama pants and even the covers caused enough friction for his mind to go back to the dream. Your red lips against his, bodies hot and heavy, panting and pleading for—

He’s spent the last twenty minutes tossing and turning, trying to force himself to go back to sleep. He had a long day ahead of him, he needed to sleep, but it just hurt so fucking much. He wanted to cum— he couldn’t even remember the last time he did that. Has it really been that long since Yuri came back from that New Years Party?

Fuck, he wanted to be good, he’d wait, he’d wait until she wanted him again, but—

Tears pricked Jungkook’s eyes as his hand slid underneath his shirt, feeling his hot skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

But it just hurt so much. He really shouldn’t be doing this.

Jungkook thought about Yuri, how much he wished she was awake. She was wearing those tiny shorts again, the ones she knew drove him crazy. If things were different, if he was a better husband, how nice it would have been to just push her shorts slightly to the side— feel her warmth, Yuri always felt so good.

Jungkook wouldn’t even have the patience to get on top, his neediness only allowed for him to swiftly pull his pants down, get one hand under her tank top, and use the other to push her shorts slightly to the side as he’d take her.

“Fuck.” He couldn’t stop his mouth or his hand as it started playing with the waistband of his pants. But you and your damn purple blouse. The one that showed off your shoulders and collarbones. Jungkook imagined in his dream that he’d kissed, sucked, and painted them with small bruises. Maybe you would have made more of those pretty sounds—

Jungkook stared wide eyed at the ceiling as he felt his hand slip past his waistband and grasp onto his throbbing length.

Oh no.

The tears quickly started welling up in his eyes again.

He didn’t even have the decency to commit such an act in private. The bathroom was just right there, but in the moment it felt so far away as he slowly started moving his hand. Jungkook tried his best to choke back the moan as his fingers made it to the tip, he was so sensitive— it felt so wrong, but all he could picture as they came back down was you on that table.

Your blouse, your skirt bunched up, your lips on his, your warmth— fuck, why did something so wrong feel so good? Jungkook tried to tell himself this was just to relieve the pain, but you just wouldn’t let him go.

“Oh no…” He tried to sob quietly as his hand started speeding up. He was so fucking pathetic. Apparently he wasn’t quiet enough, or maybe Yuri was just waking up, she’d normally be in the shower before his alarm even went off. Yuri steadily lifted her head and turned to face him.

“Jungkook, what the hell?” She grumbled. She sounded tired, maybe he really had been too loud.

He looked at her, but his vision became blurry as the tears in his eyes grew heavier. He still was able to see her eyes dart down to the tent under the comforter. He probably looked like a deer trapped in headlights as his whole body froze.

“What are you doing?!” She looked distraught.

He hurriedly tried to blink away the tears. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe that dream had actually made him lose his mind, but that burn, that need, just wasn’t subsiding like he knew it should.

“Yuri, please…” His voice was soft, but he was begging.

Yuri pulled back the covers and was able to see in as much glory as the sunrise would allow, his hand that had slipped into his pajama pants, and the hand that was still underneath his shirt. Jungkook had never felt more pathetic, but his body pleaded, no, begged for more.

Yuri just continued to stare at him.

“I had a dream and— I tried so hard to go back to sleep— so hard, I promise I really did.” He was trying his best not to cry but he could feel the hatred brewing behind her dark gaze. He knew she was disappointed. How does he always fuck everything up?

He probably would have crumbled into pieces and started bawling right then and there if her hands didn’t come up and grab his wrists. He was so confused, but she didn’t give him much time to process as she pinned his hands over his head and climbed into his lap— sitting right where he needed her.

He probably could have come by that action alone if only he wasn’t so ashamed.

“Yuri!” He gasped. She was so close, he could feel her so well, those fucking shorts not doing much at all, it was taking everything in him to not rip them off.

“You’re such a mess.” She mumbled, looking down at him.

“I know… I’m sorry…” He wanted her to forgive him just this once. 

Jungkook almost screamed when he felt her hips rock slowly, making him hurriedly chase into hers. 

“Please, please, please!” He moaned. His whole body burned, ached, pleaded— he wanted so much more.

“Mmmm, you know how pathetic you look like this?” Yuri chuckled as she ground down a little harder. He couldn’t even imagine how he looked right now.

“I’m so sorry.” He cried, because he genuinely was. He was so sorry she had to be married to him.

“What is it that you want anyway?” She asked like it wasn’t obvious with how hard he was underneath her. He was going to go crazy at this point.

“It’s been so long since we— I— please— I want to fuck you so badly— it hurts so much.” Jungkook normally wasn’t so blunt, but his lust-filled mind only allowed for the equivalent of getting on his knees and begging her to forgive him just this once and put him out of his misery.

It’s been ten months.

Yuri laughed but sped up her pace.

“Fuck!” Jungkook whined, his eyes welling up all over again. He wished he could touch her; his hands running under her tank top or grabbing onto her waist as he pushed her shorts to the side so he could finally feel her. What he would have given to do that.

“Whose fault is that? It was your dick that wouldn’t work the last time.” She was laughing at him. His eyes burned from the tears that continued to fill his eyes, but he needed more.

She was right. It was his fault. Why couldn’t he just get his shit together that day? He knew he wouldn’t get another chance like that again, yet he still couldn’t do it. It was embarrassing.

Jungkook looked intently at where their bodies connected. His erection was so obvious, he wasn’t wearing any underwear so he could clearly see it as she ran over his length. Every time she’d rock forward the tip would almost push past the waistband, red, angry, and staring back at him with shame. He whined at the sight. He couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like if he could take off his pants and she wasn’t wearing those shorts.

She really would feel so good… how the hell did he pass this up back in April?

“I’m sorry.” That’s the only thing he could do, apologize. He felt so bad.

“And you’re crying, again?” She laughed in disbelief. Yes, yes he was; both in the fact he was ashamed, but she’d also been working him far longer than his deprived mind could take, and he wanted to finish. He only needed a little more.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Her voice was laced with honey, yet reeked of poison. She was so upset at him. Jungkook couldn’t even look at her anymore, he just hurriedly nodded, hoping she’d understand.

“You could cum just from this?” Yuri asked like she was actually curious.

“I will, soon.” There was no point in hiding it.  “I wish I could be inside you though— but I’ll take anything if you’ll let me finish.” How badly he wished she’d let him push her shorts to the side, but that didn’t matter anymore. All he needed was to be done with this pent-up frustration, maybe then he could get himself together again. 

This seemed to interest Yuri in some way, because she finally picked up the pace and started grinding on top of him. The tears spilled from Jungkook’s eyes as his whole body prepared for the release he craved more than anything right now. 

“Yuri please, please, please, please!” Jungkook cried and he couldn’t repeat it enough times for her to get it. He was close and all he could ask for was her forgiveness just this once. He knew this was his fault and he’d try and make it up to her in any way he could. 

He was so close, so fucking close— so hot, this position was so hot. He desperately wanted to touch her, but he liked being underneath her like this.

He only tried to hold back for a second, hoping at the last minute she’d hurl those stupid shorts across the room, get a condom, and he’d finally feel her like he’d been wanting for months. However, that only lasted for a second before he was sure he was about to spiral off the edge he craved. But it didn’t matter how much Jungkook pleaded, because right when his cries couldn’t get any more mangled and desperate, she stopped. She stopped and was off his lap before he could hardly comprehend his orgasm was snatched away. 

Yuri didn’t say much for once. She just hopped off the bed and looked at him for a little while.

“Somehow you keep getting more pitiful. Get your shit together, Jeon. This will never work if you don’t.” Was all she said with a dramatic eye roll, before she was marching out of the bedroom and leaving Jungkook alone.

Again.

Jungkook just sat there for a second, trying to comprehend what just happened. But his body didn’t allow for much because he still felt like he was five seconds away from exploding.

He hurriedly scurried over to the bathroom and set the shower to the coldest setting possible, he didn’t even bother to take off his clothes before jumping in.

As the cold water soaked his hair, his clothes, and finally started to cool his burning skin, that’s when the real tears began to flow. Because no cold water could stop how much he wanted to reach down and finish himself off. It would be so easy now that he was alone, but Jungkook couldn’t allow himself to stoop so low. 

He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He’s already disappointed her so much. 

Jungkook let himself sink to the floor.

He felt as if he was incapable of being a good husband; really, a good person. He was awful. Jungkook was such a disappointment, a failure, a pathetic human being who only brought agony to the people he cared about the most. He was making everyone’s lives so fucking miserable…

Yuri deserved a good husband, it shouldn’t be that hard to at least be decent, yet he couldn’t even do just that. He got hard while imagining fucking his coworker and he had expected his wife to fix the problem?! It was hilarious, he deserved the punishment, worse really. When would he learn to be good? That’s all Yuri expected of him, but—

Jungkook tried to be as quiet as possible while the freezing water poured over his head and washed away the tears that just wouldn’t stop. He wanted to disappear. That would make everything so much easier. All he did was cause pain.

•────•──────────•────•

Jungkook stared at the coffee maker as the dark liquid slowly dripped into the cup. He wondered how he was going to make it through the day only running on three hours of sleep. It would be horrible if he passed out in front of you later.

His whole body felt heavy, just standing up was hard as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Coffee should help— at least it should give him enough energy to make it to work before he could make another cup to push him through the day.

He couldn’t embarrass himself in front of you.

You.

Jungkook scoffed as he suddenly thought back to his dream— nightmare really. Oddly enough, he was used to it at this point. This wasn’t the first time you’d taken over his dreams, you had a terrible habit of filling his mind even when he was fast asleep. You seem to love being in his head.

It was a little more recently that the dreams started, but his mind loved making up scenarios anytime he’d see you in the office.

He couldn’t even remember when it began anymore.

Had it been since you’d spilled coffee all over him? Was it then? All he knew was that you pissed him off for a reason he didn’t even know, not then, not now. 

Why were you so pretty? Why did he think you were pretty? He had a wife!

Maybe if you had met any other day he would have had no problem with you, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed you at all, but you met at the wrong time on the wrong day. At first, there was a bit of resentment— he had never hated you, but your first impression left a mark where a wound already existed. Seeing you reminded him of that terrible day and, for a little while, he made it his mission to give you a hard time.

It was petty, he knew that. You literally did nothing wrong. He knew it was only an accident, but there was something about you… at first you just made him upset. The reasons now have morphed into something more complex, something he’s desperately been trying to figure out to get you out of his head. It didn’t make any sense why every time he’d look at you he wanted to pull you so close that your atoms would defy physics and meet at the quantum level. He wanted you, badly, so fucking badly that he was honestly a little worried about later’s meeting.

Jungkook would never act on anything, but he wasn’t sure if he could be alone with you and not lose his mind. How could he not? Everything about you was like candy handed out by a guy in a white van. Enticing, but dangerous, far worse than what his naive brain could comprehend.

His own anger made things worse. He should have known just seeing what you were like on your very first day. No matter what Jungkook seemed to throw at you, you never once faltered, never complained, you absolutely crushed the assignments he’d give you. He was so amazed. You were so self-assured, confident, and meticulous. 

Everything he wasn’t.

Jungkook would be in meetings trying to stop himself from fawning anytime you’d speak. You were amazing, and everything about you just aroused him in a way that shouldn’t be possible. It frustrated him so much, he was fucking married.

He was a husband. He had a wife. He couldn’t forget that.

Jungkook tried to shake himself out of it and focus back on the task at hand— coffee, something he desperately needed before he passed out on the floor. He'd taken up the job of making coffee for him and Yuri. She hadn’t asked him to, but he was hoping this would be a nice peace offering for earlier.

He’d worked part time as a barista throughout his first two years of college. How he managed school, gigs, part time jobs, and Golden Tech, was something he couldn’t even comprehend anymore. But while he was there, he did get the opportunity to learn how to make those cute drinks most people would only be able to get at coffee shops.

However, he went for the classics today. 

Yuri loved Americanos, iced when it was hotter, but the chill November weather begged for a warmer drink. Jungkook couldn’t handle bitter drinks, he didn’t even like coffee until his schedule forced him to develop a need for it before he even attempted to go outside. Still, he preferred sweeter drinks with milk, sugar, or so much creamer you couldn’t even taste the coffee anymore. Today though, he needed something a little more intense to make sure he wouldn’t pass out at his desk. 

He didn’t have time to nap, things were so hectic as they neared the end of the quarter and tried to prepare for next year. He was the overseer of all of this for their department and was more needed than ever.

A latte is what he settled with. He made it fancy too, using the milk to draw a heart over the shots of espresso because why the fuck not? He didn’t have much to smile about these days, why not add a heart to his coffee?

Americanos didn't offer the chance for a cute design, so instead he focused on trying to get the ratios right so it’d be perfect for his wife. 

Jungkook had just finished pouring the hot water into her mug, when he heard Yuri’s clicking heels as she made her way into the room. She was wearing a short, black, sweater dress, with her shoulders exposed just like your blouse had been yesterday.

His cheeks flushed the longer he looked. It was like she was trying to kill him. That shower had not worked like he’d hoped.

He coughed to keep himself from staring. “You won’t be cold?” He asked, hoping to keep his mind busy.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“What?” Yuri scowled. He could sense her irritation immediately.

“I— I just saw it was going to be really cold today— 5 degrees actually, and it’s going to rain. I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He fretted as he saw Yuri roll her eyes before taking a seat on one of the barstools. 

“Don’t boss me around.” She grumbled. 

Jungkook froze as the guilt washed over him. He didn’t mean it to sound that way, but of course he couldn’t effectively communicate that he was just worried about her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, still clearly disgruntled as she rested her head on her hand. Jungkook suddenly remembered the coffee and hastily went to grab her mug.

“I made you coffee…” He attempted to smile as he placed it in front of her. He hurriedly grabbed his own before taking a seat, making sure he was far away enough to leave a chair in between them.

For a second, she just stared down at the mug, but then her eyes moved to his briefly. He probably looked desperate as he waited to see if she’d accept the offering. He felt like he was waiting for an eternity, but eventually Yuri just sighed before she picked it up.

Jungkook tried to subtly watch her face as she took her first sip. He made a silent prayer to whomever would listen that she would enjoy it, but her expression was unreadable as she set the cup down. Yuri didn’t say anything that gave him any type of clue into her thoughts. It wasn’t good or bad… but it was better than her spitting it out, throwing her cup on the floor, and saying she was better off without him.

Instead of worrying about it too much, he took a sip of his latte, and his brows furrowed as the taste relished in his mouth. It was pretty good for an espresso. He gave himself a mental pat on the back knowing at least he did a nice job on his own.

A few minutes passed by, the steady silence started filling the room and grew more unbearable.

“Are you going to the gym today?” Yuri asked, not bothering to look at him. He didn’t mind, he couldn’t handle meeting her eyes right now.

Jungkook sadly laughed at the mention of it. “No. Things are hectic right now and I have a lot of work today. I’m trying to get there a little early.” He said, taking another sip of his latte. Normally, the first thing Jungkook would do in the morning was head to the gym after he had a bit of caffeine in his system. He always found it a great way to wake himself up. However, the hecticness of his schedule has fucked up his gym routine so much that he’d barely had time to go lately.

Yuri didn’t respond to that.

“What about your plans today?” Jungkook tried inquiring.

Yuri sipped her coffee lightly before setting it down. “I’m going to Busan for a shoot. I’ll be back late— probably not till early morning.”

Jungkook couldn’t stop the way his heart sank knowing she wouldn’t be home later. He had wanted to talk after giving her some time to cool off and properly apologize for what happened this morning.  

“Hopefully they won’t make you work too late.” Jungkook tried to smile at her, but instead he was met with the sight of her blank gaze focused more on the kitchen rather than her own husband who was beside her. He resisted every urge in him to pull her close— a hug, an arm over her shoulder, anything to make this better. But he fought it, knowing that it would only dig himself deeper into the hole he created.

Silence, not even a chuckle.

“I’ll be home late too by the way. I have to work overtime with a coworker, so…” His words were drowned in his latte as he brought it up to his lips.

Yuri, once again, didn’t say anything. As the seconds continued to tick by, Jungkook couldn’t easily brush it off this time around. He wished she would plead for him to come home as soon as he could, and then complain about work always getting in the way of their relationship. Maybe she could even question him entirely about the coworker he had mentioned. Anything, he just wanted his wife to speak to him. Yuri was upset. He hated the silence. Why couldn’t he just be better?

“Yuri, I’m sorry for earlier.” Jungkook’s voice was shaky as he finally broke the awkward tension. 

“I don’t know what came over me. I just— Yuri, I miss you.” Jungkook turned to face her. He reached out and grabbed her hand that was sitting on the countertop.

“I miss you so much, I’m sorry if I woke you up earlier, sorry you had to see that.” He probably would never recover from the embarrassment, but then he thought about her on his lap and how he nearly blew his load right there. He missed her, why did things always need to be like this?

She still didn’t say anything. 

“I’m trying, I promise— I’ll be better…” His eyes started to sting, he knew he was moments away from crying again.

“How long have you been giving that excuse?” Yuri finally said as she let out a dark chuckle. As soon as the words hit his ears, he instantly felt bad for even saying anything. She was right— she was always right.

“Yuri—“ Before he could say anything else, she abruptly hopped off the barstool.

“Jungkook, I'm not in the mood today.” Yuri grumbled as she grabbed her mug.

She was never in the mood to talk about anything. Jungkook knew he should be focused on trying to apologize for his despicable actions this morning, but her words quickly lit a flame he couldn’t extinguish. She was never in the mood to deal with him, to deal with anything that involved them as a couple.  

“So that’s it then?” Jungkook huffed, but his face was wet. Embarrassing. 

Yuri stopped in her tracks.

“You’re not going to stay? We’re never here together in the mornings— you don’t want to sit here and talk with me, nothing?!” He was upset because he was coming face to face with the reality that his wife hated spending time with him. He knew that already, but seeing her walking away so easily from the one time they were up together in the morning, was enough to make him snap.

“Why is it such a crime that I want to spend time with you?” He cried as he stared at her when she still hadn’t said anything. He usually never got to talk this long before she had something to say. 

It was finally then that Yuri turned around.

“And why would I want to do that?” She said with the same dark laugh as before.

“I’m trying Yuri, so fucking hard. I—I—“ And he had nothing to say. Why would she want to be with him? Just look at what happened this morning. 

“Jungkook, I told you I’m not in the mood for this— I have places to be.” She sighed and turned away again.

Jungkook watched as she dumped her coffee into the sink.

“It was shit by the way!” She made sure he knew this. That was the last thing she said before heading back to their bedroom.

Jungkook tried his best to quickly wipe away the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling. Her words weren’t surprising, and he deserved them more than ever. He really was out of line. He was pathetic, so, so, so pathetic— why would she ever want to be with him?

However, for some reason, the thing that kept replaying in his mind was how easily she chucked the coffee he had worked so hard on trying to make perfect. The one thing he thought he could do right for her, and of course he failed. He was just one big fucking failure.

Jungkook attempted to take another sip of his own drink, but the taste was completely different than what he had remembered. The bitterness made him nearly gag and it took everything in him not to scream. Instead, the tears ran harder down his face as he quickly got up to throw his latte away too.

He couldn’t do anything right.

•────•──────────•────•

Things have been hectic these days. You were managing and making sure all of the numbers were being met for the holiday promotions, and also working hard to prepare for the next quarter with the teams.

This was the first time you’ve been managing by yourself this long. Director Son would take a day off occasionally when he had to leave the office for meetings at other companies— twice since you had been promoted, but handling an entire week on your own was a challenge you honestly weren’t sure you were qualified for. But there was no way you’d let anyone else know that. Instead, you put on a brave face and did your absolute best.

Today was hectic, and workwise, not really that interesting. Some meetings, assignments you needed to do, tasks you had to handle, it all mainly consisted of what you would typically do every day. However, there was an uneasiness in the air from the minute you woke up and thought about the fact that you were going to be working overtime with Jungkook. It was strange, but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous.

Maybe it was simply the fact that you were going to be alone with your boss for the first time— you’ve never really hung out with the guy before, and any brief conversation you’ve shared has always been so awkward. You wondered if he genuinely might not like you or something, that it might go beyond pettiness over an incident that happened over two years ago at this point. You’d never been rude to him (at least not to his face), so you had no idea where that would have come from. You figured it had to be the coffee incident still biting you in the ass. Director Son had told you prior to his absence that your workload was still abnormally high in comparison to what had been expected of the last associate director. 

Things hadn’t changed besides your feelings being a bit more complicated. Did you like Jeon Jungkook? No, he was still a major dickhead for singling you out over an accident. But were you worried about him? All the time lately.

As much as you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs every time you’d get assigned more work, you kept your cool because maybe— maybe things weren’t as they seemed.

Even though it was always awkward, Jungkook was never mean to you whenever you talked to each other. He would smile sometimes, and you’d joke around with each other occasionally. He was pretty shy— you noticed that almost immediately, he blushed a lot which always made you feel a little funny. 

It was when you wouldn’t see each other when he’d get back to being unreasonably petty. Maybe the sad boy act was a trap to make you accept his cruelness out of pity. Maybe, or maybe not. The chance was enough for you, so you settled with— you still didn’t like him, but with more caution. You needed more evidence, and today was a great day to collect findings and investigate further— with you both spending hours alone with each other, it would hopefully give you enough time to see his true colors. 

Just leading up to your meeting, things were already starting to get a little weird to say the least. You both worked more closely than usual, and anytime you’d talk with another executive, or you worked on the mountain that was your workload, you always felt stared at.

You liked to think you had a secret pair of eyes in the back of your head because you could always tell when someone was looking at you. Your senses were going off like crazy today, and every time you’d turn to check, you’d see him staring at you.

It could’ve been because you both had plans later. You never once found yourself creeped out by his staring. He reminded you of Bambi at the way his eyes sparkled in the light, and just how bewildered he looked by your mere existence.

You hated to admit it, but it was almost cute?

You had no issue meeting his gaze— at first, because you were a little confused by what was happening, but then you noticed the way his face would light up before he quickly turned away, visibly flustered, so you just kept doing it for fun.

Then, there was the incident on the roof…

You needed to find him to get him to sign some papers. You had gone to his office first— he wasn’t there, so you asked Secretary Yu— she didn’t know where he was, so you were left wandering the floor, asking around, trying to see if anyone had seen him. Luckily, Hoseok came to the rescue as you wandered through marketing trying to find him— he told you he had seen him in the elevator when he went to deliver something upstairs. 

“He said he was on his lunch break. I think he was heading to the roof, maybe?” Hoseok shrugged.

The roof?

You tried to ignore the way you felt your stomach drop. There could be a perfectly reasonable excuse for why he would be up there. The actual rooftop of the building was reachable only by maintenance, but there was a terrace a few stories down that everyone at the office referred to as ‘the roof.’ It didn’t have much up there— a few tables and chairs where people could lounge around, and it also had these beautiful trees and greenery that somehow managed to grow that high up on a building.

It was a popular spot during the warmer months, and maybe if today were a nice day, you wouldn’t be as worried, but it was freezing outside. Just walking from your bus stop, which was just down the street, to the building’s entrance, you swore your nose would fall off before you even reached the door.

What business would he have on the roof in November?

That’s why you said a hurried goodbye to Hoseok and nearly ran to the elevator. Maybe this was all in your head, and maybe you had a bad habit of thinking the worst— but your worry had saved someone before. Propelled by your belief that there was even the slightest chance of something bad happening, you never once slowed down as you made your way to the elevators. You hurriedly pressed the floor button, believing it would somehow make it go faster, and you nearly tripped over your heels trying to rush down the short hallway to the door.

As soon as you opened it, the chill air almost blew you away. Your stockings and your white button-up didn’t do much to protect you from the cold, but you persevered anyway. 

You didn’t immediately see him out there, so you hastily made your way further around the terrace. Your panic only grew worse with each step you took until you rounded the corner and a silhouette began appearing. It was Jungkook. You took a second to let out a sigh of relief, because at least things weren’t as bad as you thought or certainly could have been, but as you stood there, you noticed his hand come up to wipe his eyes.

He wasn’t crying… was he?

“Director Jeon!” You didn’t hesitate to make your presence known, feeling weird just watching him like this.

At your voice, he turned around, and for a split second you saw it, you saw his sad eyes and the way his face glistened with tears. However, it wasn’t long, and he hurriedly used his sleeve to wipe his face.

“What are you doing out here?! It’s freezing!” You exclaimed as you started making your way towards him. You tried to hold up the papers you were carrying to block the wind, but they merely fluttered before folding over in your hand.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” He tried to say over the sound of the wind rushing past. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed to see you or not.

“I had papers I needed—” Before you could finish, he was approaching you and grabbing your wrist to lead you both back to the door.

You looked at him, then his hand on your wrist, then back at him, and then your wrist again. The more you looked, the more you felt your face grow hotter. Part of you wanted to scream and tell him to let go, but you never did, honestly too stunned to do anything but let him lead you away. He yanked the door open, pulling you back into the short hallway.

As soon as the door closed behind you, he finally let go, and you had to take a second to remind yourself to breathe, because what the fuck was that?

“Sorry, it’s freezing out there— I didn’t want you catching a cold.” He laughed shyly, and it was then that you realized how close he was standing. 

The hallway was short and not very wide. It was maybe big enough for two people to stand side by side with a little room left so they wouldn’t be scraping against the wall. But you and Jungkook were facing each other, so there was no need to be this close. You wondered if there was even a foot in between you.

You took a second to look at the way Jungkook was leaning against the door. A slight smile was on his face, but standing this close, you could see the way his eyes were a little red.

“I should be saying that to you. What were you doing out there?” You asked, hoping there was some reasonable answer to this. His smile slowly faded, and it’s like in an instant you saw the dark cloud that had managed to form above his head materialize right in front of your eyes. It rained and stormed down on him with a concerning ferocity, yet he never seemed to acknowledge the way the mood had shifted. 

“I— just needed some fresh air.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, almost like his mind was elsewhere.

“Fresh air without a coat?” You questioned after noticing he was only wearing his suit jacket.

“You got me there…” He chuckled sadly. You looked at him worriedly. It was on the tip of your tongue to ask if he was ok, but once again you found yourself lost for words.

“Um, you said you needed me for something?” Jungkook said, breaking the growing silence.

You almost completely forgot why you came up here. You looked down at the papers in your hand and waved them around. “Right, I just needed you to sign the proposal we talked about in the meeting earlier.”

“Ah right, I see— do you have a—“ he didn’t even need to finish before you were whipping out the pen you kept in the pocket of your shirt.

He smiled at your eagerness before taking your pen and the papers. You watched as he scanned over them, making sure everything was just as discussed, before putting the papers against the door and signing them.

For some reason as you watched him sign his name, it almost made you think about a celebrity signing autographs in the fancy way he wrote the characters. But that only led your eyes to his face, and then you were staring at him, observing him.

You noticed he was still a little pink, you weren’t sure if it was from crying or the cold outside. At some point he flicked his hair out of his face so you could finally see his eyes a little better and you were quick to notice the tinge of red, and his face seemed a little wet around his eyes. It instantly confirmed he had been crying earlier, worrying you further. 

His hair had gotten so long now, his bangs brushing softly against his cheeks, and the rest of his dark locks sat prettily just over his shoulders. It was probably long enough that he could very easily tie it up if he wanted. As he concentrated on the documents, you could even see that little mole make an appearance once again as he bit his lip.

It seems you weren’t the only one with eyes in the back of your head, because he turned to meet your gaze.

“I’m almost done.” He hurriedly reassured, and it was only then that you realized your staring might be rushing him.

You turned away so you were looking at the golden doors of the elevator, your face on fire again. It felt like a century as the silence painfully lingered in the air, but eventually he handed back the papers.

“I’m sorry you had to come looking for me. I wouldn’t have taken a break if I knew.” He genuinely seemed sorry. How could this be the same man who's been petty towards you since day one? How?! The Jungkook you had constructed in your mind over the years would never apologize, let alone for something he didn’t need to. 

“It’s not a problem. Things have been so hectic, it’s nice to have a break. It was only for a signature anyway.” He laughed at this, but then the silence started filling the air again.

You realized this was probably the time you should be saying your goodbyes.

“Do you want to come down with me?” You asked.

For a second, he pointed toward the door, like he really wanted to head back outside to that freezing tornado of no. But it’s like he realized that it didn’t make any sense, so he was just standing there, confused about what to say.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going back out there?” You looked at him worriedly.

If his fumbling earlier didn’t confirm anything, his silence now sure did. 

You had no idea what came over you, and honestly it probably wasn’t the most professional thing to do, but you flipped your hand over, brushed his bangs back, and rested your hand on his forehead.

You noticed his immediate shock with the way his eyes widened, but you pushed on. You then moved your hand to his cheeks and as you feared, he was still absolutely freezing.

“Sir, you’re freezing…” You let him know, hoping this would mean something.

You followed his gaze as it went from your hand, up your arm, and finally met your eyes once again. You nearly shivered as you stared into his eyes, his dark orbs felt weighted. Was it sadness, exhaustion, something else entirely?

You tried to shake yourself out of it and dropped your hand. “Going back out is just asking to get sick, and we really need you here.” You smiled up at him.

He didn’t say anything, and that confused look in his eyes still remained.

The awkward silence returned.

“Um, anyway, you should come down with me. I heard you were on your lunch break, yet I see no lunch.” You pointed out.

It seemed that was what it took to finally get him to snap out of it, as he looked down at his empty hands.

“Right…”

“Don’t tell me you forgot…?” And you just knew he did. 

“It’s a bad habit.” He chuckled shyly, but that just made you concerned all over again. What did he mean it was a habit? 

“Maybe we could eat together? I just have to drop these papers off and then we could head to the cafeteria.” You said so abruptly, it shocked yourself just as much as it seemed to shock him. 

What were you saying?! 

…

The silence that lingered had you ready to apologize for even putting out the idea.

“I’m a bit busy and my break is almost over…” You thought this was his way of rejecting your offer. “But… we can get food together.”

Jungkook looked back up at you with a smile on his face. For a second you saw it, that way his eyes crinkled and you found it hard not to fawn at the sight. You felt good that you were able to make him smile like that— for some reason you had the idea that it doesn’t happen too often.

With that, you were heading down the elevator and walking through the halls to your office. On the way, you sensed the questioning eyes of everyone as soon as they saw Jungkook trailing behind you.

Everyone around the office still thought that you hated him.

You eventually got to your office and you were a little shocked to find Solmi and Taehyung standing outside the door. They were just talking, probably waiting for you to go to the cafeteria, but then they finally saw you making your way over.

You noticed their smiles drop as soon as they saw Jungkook behind you.

“Hey guys…” You gave them a warning glare. “I was going to head down with Jungkook— meet me down there later~” You smiled a bit too hard as you set the papers down and turned back to Jungkook, who looked more than a little awkward.

You realized he probably didn’t come out here too often.

You didn’t give your friends any time to ask questions before you were whisking the both of you back to the elevator to finally head downstairs.

You honestly didn’t consider until later how… strange this might look to people. Not only because they thought you still hated him, but you were hanging around a married man like this. You sometimes forgot he was married, but the more looks you received, the more apparent it became how your colleagues might interpret your actions. But you had good intentions. All you wanted to do was make sure he actually ate something, fearing​​ that if you left him upstairs, he’d go back outside again and forget to eat lunch entirely. 

No one seemed to be worried, and you doubted anyone else would remind him to eat lunch. It’s not like you were this amazing person, but despite your mixed feelings toward Jeon Jungkook, you still didn’t want to just leave him like this. You wanted to help him even if it was just a little bit. He reminded you of Mi-Sun so much…

Besides that, it also gave you an opportunity to work on the awkwardness between you two before your long night together. Maybe he’d even give you bonus points for taking the initiative and being the first to try and extend the olive branch. 

However, neither of you talked too much as you waited in line, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. You’d sometimes try to ask him questions, but it didn’t lead anywhere besides a simple back and forth. The glaring awkwardness and the growing murmur of the crowd in the cafeteria filled the space between the two of you. Rome wasn’t built in a day; you knew creating any type of amicable relationship with Jungkook was going to take some time, especially considering you both didn’t start on the best foot, so you didn’t dwell on it too much. 

In between your short conversations, many people offered to let Jungkook go in front of them as soon as they noticed the CEO’s son was there, but he declined every time. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t surprised. That side of you who still thought the worst of him had you thinking he would use his position to nudge his way into any door he possibly could, even something as insignificant as skipping through the lunch line. But no, he didn’t even think about it any time someone would come up to him. Maybe you were wrong once again. 

Eventually, you were able to make it through the line.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? Maybe you could spare a few minutes to eat? My friends will be down soon if you want to sit with us, or maybe Director Park—“ 

“No, it’s alright. I’ve been gone long enough. Thank you, though.” Jungkook smiled.

You looked at him hesitantly. “Alright, just make sure you actually eat.”

“Don’t worry. I’m the king of multitasking~” He laughed, but you still were in fact still worried. For some reason you didn’t believe him, but you didn’t want to fight him on this.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, okay?” He smiled at you before turning around and heading back to the elevators.

That was the last time you saw each other before your meeting. The rest of the day, you found yourself feeling even more nervous.  

•────•──────────•────•

As your colleagues began packing up all their belongings and saying their goodbyes, you tried not to think about the fact that you had to meet with Jungkook soon, because you either found your nerves returning or you wanted to cry because you couldn’t go home. 

When the time finally arrived, you passed Secretary Yu’s empty desk and stood outside the door. You took a second to just breathe and try to calm your beating heart. There was no reason to be this nervous, you can handle Jeon Jungkook just like you do everything. Get in, be done, and then get out. Home was your finish line. 

Before they left, Taehyung and Solmi performed a ritual to wish you luck for tonight by surrounding your chair with pens, highlighters, bottles of white-out, and basically all the office supplies they could find. 

“By the power of this printer paper, Y/n is going to make it home alive.” Solmi said dramatically, holding a pack of printer paper— you had just asked her to fill the printer tray before they started doing this. Taehyung was standing behind her playing spooky music. They both told you that the ambiance was the last ingredient to reassure you that the ritual would work. 

You called them dramatic, but they said it was necessary to ensure you made it out of the “demon’s lair” unscathed. It was entirely too much, maybe even a little rude, but you let them have their fun.

There was absolutely no reason to be scared, but you couldn’t help the way your heart sped up in your chest as you knocked you pushed open the door.

Once again, you weren’t greeted with a demon’s lair, but well— no, maybe you couldn’t say that exactly. Taehyung and Solmi, during their ritual, had put the thought into your head that his bright office was merely a façade maintained during work hours, that he and the room revealed their true colors the minute most people were out of the building. You thought it was silly, but as you grasped your laptop tightly and saw that his office was dark apart from the faint glow of a couple of candles placed around the tables, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had entered the right room. This certainly wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Y/n—” You heard, but suddenly there was a loud thud making you nearly jump out of your skin as you snapped your head towards the commotion. “Shit!” You realized Jungkook groaned, as he clutched onto his desk. “I knew that was there…” He tried to laugh, but you could still hear the pain in his voice. 

You shook yourself out of your shock, before you hurriedly made your way over to him, trying your best to dodge past the faint outline of furniture on the way.

“Are you ok?” You asked looking down to see if you could notice any damage, but the room was just so dark. You helped him sit back down in his chair.

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize my desk was there…” He sighed, his brows furrowed as he leaned back.

“How could you? Why do you have all the lights off?” You looked around now that you were fully inside the room, and your eyes had adjusted a little more. The candles created a nice mood lighting, and the sparkling city lights outside provided that last little touch of magic. It was pretty, very different from what you’d see during the day. If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was preparing for a date considering how romantic this almost seemed.

“I always turn them off when I stay here late— the lights are way too bright for this time of night, in my opinion. I don’t mind it being completely dark, but I lit some candles so you could see.” You were tempted to ask where he got so many since you had never seen them around before, but you kept quiet and just accepted the gesture. It was really sweet.

Jungkook suddenly swiveled around in his chair to reveal a minifridge you didn’t realize he had in here. He opened it, and you peeped a variety of drinks, mainly beer it seemed, but he pulled out a wine bottle before shutting it.

“Only if you want to.” He looked down at the bottle and then back at you. 

You were shocked. 

It was just then that you realized you never had a picture of what Jungkook was like outside of work. You couldn’t even imagine him stepping outside of this office building, but if you ever subconsciously had any impression, you never expected that he would be so… loose? You honestly thought it would be quite boring staying late with him, where you would be stuck fighting all forces of nature to keep your eyes open. You thought he would be the stone-cold, boring, business type, where you were here for work only. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Jungkook instructed you to grab Secretary Yu’s chair and roll it in so you could sit next to him, since all of the seats in his office were too heavy to move. As you left, he popped open the cork and took out wine glasses he also brought out of thin air.  

Once you got back, he even told you that the wine was yours to keep (a gift for staying late with him). You looked at the bottle, but you had no idea what it was. You squinted, trying to read the label, and eventually figured out it was entirely written in French. That’s when Jungkook explained that he had first tried this wine when his father had given him a bottle after a business trip to France.

“I had been having a terrible day, and then I remembered I had this white wine my dad gave me. I poured just a little to taste— next thing I knew, the whole bottle was gone.” He chuckled at the memory as he filled both of your glasses about halfway.

“I bought a few more bottles when I went this summer. I hope you like it~” He smiled at you. 

You figured this bottle was expensive, and you didn’t need to recognize the brand to understand that. Just as Jungkook described, one sip was all it took for you to understand precisely what he meant. It was probably the best wine you’d ever had; the sweetness danced nicely across your tongue before you couldn’t resist and had to swallow. You weren’t even that big of a wine drinker, but with this one, you could see yourself turning into one of those people who have a glass after coming home from work every day.

You seriously had to resist downing your drink because you were trying to hurriedly settle your nerves, but it was also that delicious. It was then that you both agreed not to go overboard. You were here to work after all, and you both still had to get home one way or another. One glass, two at most.

As the tension eased slightly, you opened your laptop, Jungkook turned back to his computer, and finally you both got to work.

Most of the time, it went as planned. You were able to fly through work relatively smoothly. You hated to admit that you two worked pretty well together. Your flow was like a perfect machine, two functions working independently, but eventually coming together to create the final product. Sometimes, you’d both be sitting in silence as the candles flickered around you, typing away at the keys, but then you’d always reconvene and spend most of the time talking about ideas, plans for next year’s Q1, and making the last bit of confirmations needed for the end of Q4.

As you both approached the end of the workload, you started to slow down, the last little bit is the hardest to finish as they say.

The whole evening was peaceful. It wasn’t anything at all like the second shift you’d pictured. Jungkook was… pretty chill. You sipped wine, and lightly chatted about work. How could this be the same guy you hated since your first day here? How the hell was he the guy who had rumors about people going into his office only to come out crying? 

It didn’t make any sense, and suddenly you found yourself upset at whoever spread that nasty rumor. Jungkook, with his sparkling eyes, looked like he couldn’t even hurt a fly, how did that even become a thing?

Then again, it’s not like you were any better… you were practically president of the Jungkook hate club before your promotion. You found yourself tempted to ask him why things had been so weird between you, if it really was all about the coffee you spilled on him, or if there was something else you did that you were entirely unaware of.

Your thoughts were interrupted all of a sudden when you heard ruffling. You looked over to find Jungkook taking off his suit jacket.

Oh?

•────•──────────•────•

He hadn’t thought much about it.

It was a little stuffy in his office, so he finally had to take his jacket off, roll up the sleeves of his white button-up, and undo just one more button. He didn’t even think you’d notice, but then he felt your gaze bearing down on him with enough weight to make him turn to face you.

Jungkook met your eyes briefly, and he had to take a second to recollect himself after seeing the way you were staring at him. Your eyes were dark and hooded, and you had the pen you had been twirling around your fingers teased between your lips. His mind was in all the wrong places. He knew that was his fault— but the longer he looked at you, the more his body burned with a horrible need. You looked so pretty; the city’s bright lights framed you nicely, and the faint candle glow made you look ethereal. 

“I didn’t know you had tattoos?” You used the pen you were holding to point at his arm. It finally dawned on him that that’s what you were looking at. He suddenly felt his cheeks grow warm, both embarrassed that he let his mind go there, and that you noticed something he’d been wanting to hide.

“Oh yeah… right, I sometimes forget they’re there.” Jungkook chuckled, trying to calm himself down. 

“When did you get them?” You asked, leaning a little closer to see them a bit better.

“Four— five years ago? I think I got them all during my last year of college.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help but notice the shock in your voice. “How did I never notice?”

“It’s not like I have too many. I originally planned to do a whole sleeve, but then I got busy, married, and overall things just changed. Unless I wear short sleeves, you can’t really see them.” Jungkook explained, his smile fading the longer he spoke.

“Does your wife not like tattoos?” You pondered, and he tried to ignore the weird feeling he got from hearing you mention her. 

“They’re not her favorite.” Jungkook was putting that a little nicely.

It wasn’t even like it was a big secret that he had tattoos before they got married. On their second date, Jungkook had to rush to meet Yuri after an appointment; his arm was still wrapped up and everything. This turned out to be the last tattoo he’d end up getting— the floral pattern he had on his elbow. 

Jungkook got so busy afterward dealing with the end of the semester and his job at Golden Tech, that he never could find the time for any more appointments before he got married. He planned to finish what he started when he got back from their honeymoon, he even had an appointment booked. But while they were lounging at the pool at their resort, basking under the sun in the Maldives, this one guy who had both arms done walked by. Jungkook had eagerly mentioned how cool they looked, but Yuri grimaced and said they weren’t really her thing.

At the time, she’d tried to recover and say she didn’t mind the couple that he'd managed to get, but Jungkook got the message; that was all she could tolerate.

Truthfully, she didn’t like them at all, and Yuri made sure he knew. In the heat of an argument, she’d called his tattoos ridiculous, silly, and even childish. Jungkook didn’t even fight back because he couldn’t deny that they didn’t look right. He’d planned to fill the space more when he got more time. The ones he had managed to brave before getting married individually he still thought were pretty cool, but all together, they were weirdly placed, spaced out, and generally just looked awkward since he never got to finish what he had planned.

He couldn’t say he liked them as much anymore. 

Jungkook had thought about getting them removed a couple of times; he’d even made an appointment once, but ultimately never followed through with it. He didn’t know if it was because of the pain he dreaded or the fact that when he tried to picture his arm bare again, he almost had a full-on breakdown. So he decided to keep them. They were his ridiculous, silly, and maybe even childish history.

Instead, he tried to be content with the fact his sleeve wouldn’t get finished, and just reminisced whenever he looked down at his right arm about the time when the thought of turning his body into a canvas was more than alluring.

He wanted to make Yuri happy.

“I think they’re pretty.” You suddenly mentioned, and one compliment was enough to make him feel funny all over. “Maybe you might change your mind one day about finishing it.” You continued.

Jungkook just stared at you as you spoke, his face felt like it was on fire. “I—I don’t know—“

“I’m sure your wife would grow to love them!” You exclaimed, turning your attention to the photo he kept on his desk. You leaned a little closer looking at his big smile as she kissed his cheek. They seemed so happy.

Jungkook noticed your gaze on the picture, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache at the sight. Something about it felt so wrong, almost like the two biggest problems in his life were coming face to face.

“How did you two meet?” You suddenly asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. At first, he was a little confused about who you were talking about, but in one of your hands was the picture you were looking at.

“Um— our parents introduced us to each other.” 

You cooed and turned to look at the picture, then back at Jungkook, and then back at the picture again. 

“You found love so early. We’re nearly the same age, right? It’s crazy to imagine being married right now.” You chuckled at the thought.

Jungkook stared at the candle in front of him as he soaked up your words. You were right; you would never see someone in this day and age married at twenty-six, at least not here. All of his friends from college were posting about going to the latest clubs. Not a single proposal announcement had crossed his timeline, yet he was about to celebrate his fourth anniversary in only a few months.

It really was crazy.

When Jungkook didn’t say anything, you took it upon yourself to fill in the silence. “Were you just so in love that you couldn’t wait?” You questioned dreamily as you batted your eyelashes. You watched as Jungkook continued to stare at the candle that sat between you, seemingly lost in thought.

“Jungkook?” You questioned.

“I heard you… it’s just… I mean, yes, we were, it’s just—”

“...trouble in paradise?” You asked hesitantly, worrying you were starting to pry too much.

Jungkook didn’t say anything for a while, his heart pounding at how easily you seemed to notice. “You could say that.” He chuckled, his voice was soft, you barely heard him.

“Don’t worry. Every couple goes through difficulties, I’m sure you both will make it through this.” You tried to bring the mood back up, sensing you must have hit a touchy subject.

Jungkook resisted the urge to say it was all his fault, that he was the bomb in their relationship— the one who was wreaking havoc and causing the mass destruction. It was all him. 

“You guys look so happy here. When did you take this?” You pointed back to the picture on his desk. 

“That was our honeymoon.” His voice was slightly pained, as he thought back to a time when everything was still so promising; when he still seemed promising. You didn’t seem to notice, though.

“Where did you guys go? The background looks so pretty.” You pointed out the sparkling water that sat behind them. It was the clearest blue you’d ever seen.

“The Maldives.” He answered, and your eyes widened. You instantly felt a little jealous.

“If you ever have a business trip that takes you back to some beautiful island, you should take me with you. I could even try to squeeze into your suitcase if you’ll let me.” This finally got Jungkook to laugh.

“I’m serious— I’m sure I could fit inside!” You were already working out your plan in your head on how you’d somehow make the journey. He laughed even harder, like it was the funniest thing in the world. You quickly settled on the fact you liked it when Jungkook laughed, it was cute, this was the first time you heard it go beyond just a simple chuckle. It didn’t match him at all, but at the same time, it did. It was a distinct sound that made you unable to stop yourself from joining in, because you would have never guessed that was his laugh, but you found it oddly… endearing? It felt very Jungkook, even though you weren’t sure what that really meant yet. 

You decided to keep the joke going because you wanted to hear him laugh more. You told him you were sure you could somehow do it; if anyone could figure out how to travel by suitcase from Korea all the way to The Maldives, it would be you.

“What! I’ve never even left the country before, and I want to travel so badly. You seriously have to bring me on your next business trip!” You were both joking and incredibly serious at the same time. You had always wanted to travel.

Jungkook sensed this and calmed down a little. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes widened. “Is this a promise I’m hearing, Director Jeon?” Your excitement made Jungkook feel strange— fluttery almost. 

“Promise.” He smiled at you. You beamed and held out your pinkie. Jungkook looked down and then back up at your eyes, a little confused.

You got the message and grabbed his wrist so you could lock pinkies. You took it a step further, and your hand so your thumbs touched. “Look, it’s official now~” 

Jungkook stared down at your interwoven hands, his heart nearly beating out of his chest at all the thoughts racing through his head. The clearest one being the feeling of your hand in his— so small, warm, and the urge to pull you into his arms was dangerous. He remembered his dream from this morning, that stupid fucking dream he had of fucking you on that meeting table. What would your hands feel like elsewhere? He wanted to touch you too. He was aware of how alone you both were in the building; no one was in the office, no one would barge in and see if you— 

But then he was brought back to reality, and suddenly it was painfully hot in this room. Jungkook quickly let go of your hand as his face continued to warm.

“You ok?” Your red lips formed the words, but he had a hard time listening.

That cold shower didn’t help at all. If he took another one once he got back home, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. At this point, Jungkook doubted that if he sat in a bath of ice water for an hour it would be enough to calm the way his body burned and pleaded for help.

If he tried once again and begged Yuri, would she say yes? The idea was laughable, considering the stunt he pulled this morning. He was pathetic; why would she help him?

“Jungkook?” You tried calling out to him once again after seeing him get lost in thought. 

That was finally enough to get him to snap out of it. 

“I–I’m so sorry. I’m fine, you’re fine.” He tried his best to laugh it off. Jungkook couldn’t even look at you as he spoke.

“Was it the promise? I’m sorry if that was inappropriate. I know you’re married. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable…” You trailed off worriedly.

“Don’t worry, I promise! I just got a lot on my mind.” You, he had a whole lot of you in his head.

You still looked at him with concern, but you hoped you didn’t make things weird… or rather, weirder than they already were. You tried to get back to work once again, but it was hard to make any progress after what happened. 

You battled the thoughts clouding your mind.

What was even happening? Maybe the wine was stronger than you thought, or you had suddenly become a lightweight, the possibility making more sense than understanding just how much you weren’t thinking straight anymore. That had to be it, right? 

Your face grew more flushed as you stared at your computer trying to comprehend what just occurred. Was that weird? It was just supposed to be a cute promise. You didn’t think that was crossing a line, but the way he looked at you…

Your whole body shivered at the thought and where your mind led you. You had to get it together. 

•────•──────────•────•

This was bad.

His wandering mind had led him down a dangerous path that he was desperately trying to save himself from. The only thing Jungkook could think about while he tried to focus on the spreadsheets in front of him was you who was sitting next to him: your hand in his, your red lips you’d occasionally pull between your teeth as you concentrated on your work, and your skirt that he swore got shorter each time he glanced over at you. But then his mind drifted to his wife, Yuri. 

He missed her. Was there any chance she’d be back at their place, ready willing to help him fix this? Clothes nowhere in sight, her legs spread, just waiting for him to come home and—

If he was just better… 

It only made him think back to their honeymoon, when she still had hope in him. 

Things had been a bit awkward at first, but as they partook in more activities around the island, they started loosening up. The pleasant moments eventually led them to the hot tub right outside their room. 

They had a beautiful view of the Indian Ocean, the sun was just starting to go under the horizon, and the sky was lit up beautifully with a symphony of vibrant colors that had painted the water below. It was breathtaking. 

It was Yuri’s idea for them to get in the hot tub that overlooked the sight to finally get the chance to just sit and talk. They did, that evening had been so magical as they spoke with each other about their lives and even spilled a lot of personal thoughts and fears, all while they sipped a bottle of amazing champagne. The awkwardness finally seemed to dissipate, and it was just the two of them getting to know each other after the chaos of the wedding. The moment had made his heart feel so warm, knowing that they were in a place where they could open up to each other. 

Jungkook didn’t know how it happened. Maybe Yuri had started to feel the same sparks flying in the air that he did. He was just so happy and in the moment, he didn’t remember how things got to that point, but suddenly she was crawling into his lap and kissing him. 

Things escalated very quickly after that. One moment Jungkook was kissing her sweetly, just happy to be having an intimate moment with his wife, but things changed before he could even process what was going on. The pace all of a sudden started picking up, her hands were running across his burning skin, her lips hastily moving against his. Then he was throwing her red bikini top off, and suddenly they were rushing out the hot tub back inside to the bed. It was there where they fucked with their bathing suits still clinging to their bodies— He thought it was romantic, the type of sex he had only dreamed of, so passionate and lost in the moment that no one could even find time to take off their clothes. 

If he got an opportunity like that again with Yuri...       

…

He wanted to ruin her.

He tried his best not to get emotional again. Not with you here. He didn’t want you to know how pathetic he was, how disgusting his thoughts were— because, with you he wanted to do worse. With you, he entertained the deepest, darkest desires he’d tried his best to keep buried for the sake of his relationship. But when it came to you—

Jungkook looked over in your direction, your red lips, short skirt, and long legs… he didn’t want to just ruin you, he wanted to absolutely destroy you. At least that’s what he felt would happen— this horrible desire to have you, when he had someone to go home to, was a breeding ground for his imagination to run wild. You were a fantasy, a fantasy that should be burned in the hottest flames imaginable.

It was just so fucking wrong, and the more he looked at you, the more his blood boiled. Why did you have to work here? Why were you so pretty? Why did he have to want you so badly? Why did he have to be married? Why did his brother have to leave? Why couldn’t he be a better husband so Yuri would want him and this whole situation could have been avoided?

In another world, he could have dreaded needing to stay with you after work. His wife could have been sitting back at home waiting for him, missing him. If he was just better, Yuri would have texted him throughout the day. It would have been about random stuff she wanted to tell him, and when she would have made it home, she would have sent him something cheesy like the apartment feels so empty without you here ㅠㅠ. He would have apologized, but fawned every time she’d text him because she was so cute. He’d respond each time and reassure her that he would be home as soon as he could.

But unfortunately, the reality was everything but that. He was the fucking problem. He could have had it all if he was better… he was always the fucking problem.

Instead, he was here with you, trying his best to ignore the way his pants were starting to feel tighter because he couldn’t get it together. He was thinking about those three buttons undone on that white button-up you have tucked into that short fucking skirt— so close to seeing more, how easy it would be to undo one more if you’d let him. That dream too— right there on the meeting table. Sitting here at his desk, it was so easy to imagine you sprawled right on top, waiting for him to touch you. You would look so pretty, and he would do anything you asked. He just wanted to make you feel good, to make someone feel good—

“Shit—“ It left his lips before he could stop it as he lifted his hips subtly, desperately wishing to meet something. That’s when you finally turned back to him, noticing how flushed he was.

“Sir, are you sure you’re ok?” You asked, concerned at the way he jumped at your voice. The candlelight was enough to show the pink dusting his cheeks.

To be honest, he’d nearly forgotten you were actually in the room with him. 

“Uhh— I’m just a little warm is all…” He tried to play it off.

You awed and started to fan him lightly with your hands, hoping that would help.

It didn’t, but he smiled at the gesture nonetheless.

Looking around the room, you noticed the fan that was sitting in the corner. You quickly stood up and went to grab it, hoping that would help him cool down. 

As soon as you got up, Jungkook let out a sigh of relief and rolled over to the minifridge that sat beside him. Past all the alcohol were a few water bottles he mainly kept as a means of sobering up, or to put a dent in the iron wall of a hangover he’d often wake up with. 

He grabbed one, and hurriedly opened it up and chugged it down, hoping it would help him relax.

You were supposed to chase a drink down with water, the tip saving him so many times when he was in college, but lately, he never remembered. Most times, all he cared about was silencing the thoughts that had grown so loud at this point it was almost deafening; it would always make his head hurt, and his heart ache. These days he could care less about the consequences whenever he’d be reaching into his fridge and pulling out a drink. No matter how bad the aftermath was, it was never more painful than how he felt sober. But today, Jungkook wasn’t drunk, not even tipsy. You were enough to occupy his mind, you and the image of you naked on his desk. While it did pose a great problem, it was enough to ignore the biggest one temporarily. 

You were back soon after and set the fan in between you both. You were a little shocked to see the candles illuminate the sheen across his skin— you didn’t think it was that hot in here.

“Sir, are you—“

Jungkook set down his water and shook his head. “You don’t need to call me that— please don’t call me that, especially when we’re alone.”

You stood there, a little confused. 

“We’re the same age right— I don’t know, every time you call me sir it feels like I aged 50 years all of a sudden. Please just call me Jungkook.” He laughed. It was true, it was always weird anytime you’d call him sir, but he needed any distraction he could get so he could finish his work.

“Are you sure?” You questioned, a little surprised he didn’t want to keep the honorifics in place. 

Jungkook nodded. 

You smiled. This was progress.

“Alright… Jungkook, how’s that?” You asked as you plugged in the fan. It instantly came to life and the blades quickly picked up enough speed to have a cool breeze blowing in between you both.

Jungkook tried to ignore the way he flushed at the fact that he instantly knew how much he liked hearing his name come out of your mouth. 

“Better, thank you so much.” He was lying straight through his teeth. It really didn’t do much. Jungkook doubted even a staycation to Alaska could solve his issues, but his heart still warmed at the gesture. You were always so sweet.

•────•──────────•────•

You sat back down on your chair and took another sip from your wine glass. It was almost empty at this point. You had kept drinking as your mind continued to travel back to Jungkook, his newfound tattoos, that extra button he undid— two now it seems, that bottle of wine you were sharing, but most of all, you were questioning where you stood. 

You had been debating whether to ask him if he likes you or not. This was probably the worst time to ask, but the dim candlelight and just how… nice, things for the most part have been tonight made you want to get to the bottom of it.

But Jungkook was quicker at filling the silence.

“Y/n, if you don’t mind me asking, why’d you start working at Golden Tech?” His voice was so gentle, sitting right above the sounds of the crackling candles.

The question had you stunned for a second, not at all expecting it, nor did you immediately have an answer.

“I don’t know, why does anyone start working anywhere?” You laughed, but realized who you were speaking to. Maybe not the best joke. You quickly cleared your throat. “But Golden Tech is a really good company— I heard a lot about it when I was still in college about how well they treat their employees. It aligned well with many of my ambitions, so once I finished grad school I thought I’d apply and see what would happen.” 

It was still crazy that you were sitting with the CEO’s son. A few years ago you thought maybe you were being a little too ambitious with trying to aim for Golden Tech, yet not even two years later, you got the job, and you were already the Associate Director of the Seoul division’s financial team. Who knows where you might be in another two years?

“Do you regret your decision? Honestly, I think you could have gotten a notable position at Samsung if you had applied.” Jungkook wondered. 

You laughed at his comment. “Me? At Samsung? Never in a million years would that happen. I thought I was being too ambitious by applying here!” You giggled, the entire idea oddly amusing.

“I don’t think it’s ambitious at all; you would have done well there,” Jungkook said quite seriously. He wasn’t used to this side of you. You were normally so confident, it was strange seeing you doubt yourself. 

“Yah, is this your way of trying to get me to leave?” You were teasing slightly, but you weren’t prepared for the panic to appear all over his face.

“No— no— never! I just— you’re amazing— I was just saying that—” If he weren’t so flustered, you would have probably heard the part where he mentioned you were amazing.

“I know what you meant~” You chuckled lightly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. You saw this wave of relief wash over him, more than you expected, considering this was the guy who you feared didn’t like you.

Silence went on for a moment until Jungkook spoke up again. “You never answered my question, though. Do you regret coming here?” 

You thought about it for a second, before shaking your head. “Things have been kinda hectic, but I expected it; I mean, it’s a big company, I figured it wouldn’t be easy.” You decided to put it simply. Saying you did initially regret it to your boss probably wasn’t the best idea.

You thought that was the end of that, but when you finally turned back to Jungkook, you saw this weird somber gaze beginning to settle on his features. 

“I’ve been overworking everyone too much, haven’t I?” Jungkook suddenly said after your words finally settled in the air. 

You couldn’t hide the look of confusion on your face as you turned to him. His eyes were staring at the blinding computer screen before him, but you knew he wasn’t paying attention.

“What do you mean? Quarter fours are always busy—”

“That’s not what I mean… I know what they say sometimes. Everyone always speaks so highly of my dad, and he’s done so much for the company as CEO. The way things have gone so far makes me doubt I can meet their expectations when I take over…” That was an understatement. He couldn’t even make one woman happy. 

“The team I manage is already suffering.” He fretted. 

You found yourself at a bit of a loss on what to say. Where was this coming from? You were just joking a second ago but now… that look in his eyes. As he spoke, they grew more weary, tired, and sad. It was that same look you saw when you spilled coffee all over him on your first day here, it was the same look you saw earlier on the roof.

It was a peek into what was running through his head as he looked at you with those sad eyes. If you needed a bigger sign that something was seriously wrong, he couldn’t have given you a more obvious one. What made it even more concerning was that you didn’t know how big of a crack this was. What more could be lying behind those sad eyes?

“Jungkook, people understand you have a lot on your shoulders, it’s alright.” You tried to reassure, but you doubted he heard you. For a second, as he continued to stare down the spreadsheet he had up, you swore you saw his eyes get shiny.

“Ahh— sorry, this sometimes happens when I drink.” Jungkook finally snapped out of it, and hurriedly reached for his wine glass.

You watched concerningly as he chugged down the rest of the clear wine all in one go. 

“What happened to sipping lightly?” You tried to remind him jokingly about what he said as he poured your glasses earlier.

The wine glass clinked against the desk as he set it down.

“I’m fine— I’m making things weird. Tell me about yourself instead? Anything interesting happening in your life?” You could tell he was quickly trying to change the subject. You debated probing further, but you figured maybe a distraction might be what’s best to get him out of his train of thought.

“I was promoted not too long ago.” You smiled, and he actually laughed. It felt good seeing him smile again.

“I’m serious! You’ve nearly been here for two years, but I feel like this is the first time we’ve ever actually just talked.” Jungkook pointed out.

“I don’t think it’s normal to just walk up to your boss and talk about the weather or something.” You pointed out, but again it made your mind travel to the elephant in the room. Despite everything, had this entire time he wanted to be friendly with you? 

“I wouldn’t mind—“ He said it like he was serious, but sensing the sarcasm, you lightly swatted his shoulder— it was out of habit, but you regretted it immediately as soon as it happened.

Jungkook looked shocked for a second, before he smiled, that same smile that would make his eyes crinkle. “Exactly what I was saying, especially when we’re alone like this; treat me like we’re just coworkers.”

“Sir— Jungkook, I’m so sorry.” You felt like you were caught doing the worst crime imaginable— similar to how you felt after discovering you spilled coffee on the CEO’s son on your first day.

“Don’t worry, I really don’t—”

“I’m so so so sorry!” You panicked. Even though you really didn’t hit him hard, this might warrant him to hate you for an actual reason besides an accident.

Jungkook softly grabbed your shoulders to get you to calm down.

“Y/n, I told you it’s ok, really—” He suddenly stopped in his tracks because it seemed he realized how close in proximity you both had become now. Your chairs were a lot closer than you remembered and Jungkook pulling you a bit had somehow created a space between you that only had to be a few centimeters at most. From here, you could see the cute little scar he had on his left cheek.

He was staring directly into your eyes and you were staring back into his. Both of you seemingly shocked at the position you were in and stuck in place. It reminded you of what happened on the roof earlier, another precarious position, but as the seconds ticked by, you could have sworn his eyes darted down to your lips. Time seemed to slow down as you felt the gentle caress of his thumb on your shoulder, and… for a split second, you saw him bite down on his lower lip, only lightly teasing the flesh between his teeth— maybe it was the embarrassment, but it was so, so subtle, before you thought he started to lean a little closer. For a moment, you thought he was about to kiss you.

As quickly as that second came, he suddenly let go of you and tried to smile. “Uh— It seriously wasn’t a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

The moment of normalcy made you snap out of it. You honestly would have believed you blacked out for a second, but the way your face kept getting warmer was a sign something must have happened. 

As you turned away from him, you were greeted once again with the picture of him and his wife on their honeymoon. Right, he was married, you definitely imagined that.

Things grew awkward again as the silence settled into the room. You reached for your wine, wishing now it was a little stronger.

…

Saving the day from the growing discomfort being in this room was your phone buzzing on the desk. You sighed and set your glass down before you reached for it, not really thinking too much of it until you opened it to see a message from Solmi. 

You eagerly unlocked your phone, already having a feeling about what it was. Your smile erupted when you clicked on the picture she sent you. 

It was blurry, but you saw Solmi had quickly snapped a picture of her and Taehyung, who you heard earlier had decided to join her since you couldn’t make it. He had already been contemplating joining you both, but the fact that you definitely weren’t going with her, made him feel like he had to “be the responsible person there.” 

You had laughed at that considering they both were a handful, especially when alcohol was involved, but Taehyung could be worse if he got enough in his system. They matched each other’s energies so well, they had a sibling-like connection you had always found cute. Solmi was a year younger than you, and ever since she first introduced herself to your team when you used to be a manager, Taehyung had always taken on this big brother role to her, and it only got stronger as you all got closer to each other. Their bond created moments like this, Tae somehow getting dragged out to parties on a Tuesday. 

He’d left work a little early to go look for a last-minute costume, and you couldn’t help but laugh seeing what he’d somehow managed to get together. He was dressed as Mario— he had the hat, mustache, and you could just barely see the red shirt and straps that suggested he’d even managed to get overalls. Solmi was smiling beside him, and she had gone for another classic. She had already shown you a picture of her costume a few weeks ago, but she had thrown on some cat ears, drawn on a few whiskers, and you could also see a hint of the leather bodysuit she had on. 

It was a few seconds later that you got another text. 

Sweet Baby Solmi [11:48pm]: you should be here >:O 

Followed by more pictures and even some videos. Then additional texts came at the end of the spam. 

Sweet Baby Solmi [11:52pm]: taehyung’s drunk and keeps whining that he misses you 🙄 

Sweet Baby Solmi [11:52pm]: i miss you too friend 🥺

Sweet Baby Solmi [11:53pm]: tell director jeon we hate him for stealing you from us 😘

You couldn’t help but laugh at this one. However, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungkook’s eyes on you again, so you quickly scrolled back up to look at the pictures she sent you earlier. 

They were mainly the same, just a few different angles. It looked like Solmi kept clicking the button to get as many pictures as she could. There were some with them holding up glasses of beer and clinking them together. Solmi must have also gotten someone to take their picture because she sent you a full-body one where you could see their entire costumes. You could see a few more details you didn’t get to at first. Taehyung had on these thick white gloves and boots. Solmi had left her bodysuit unzipped a little extra than what they advertised in the picture she’d shown you. You knew her goal was to try and get laid tonight, you silently saluted her, hoping she could succeed. She had even decided to brave wearing high-heeled boots to add that extra level of sexy to her outfit. There were also some pictures that showed they had moved into whatever club or bar they ended up in, and were busy enjoying themselves on the dance floor. 

You were so caught up in the sadness steadily filling your heart seeing your friends out having a great time while you were stuck at work, that you really forgot Jungkook was in the room with you. It was something you had gone through all your life, your friends out having fun and always needing to leave you behind… at least you could have been home enjoying yourself, but—

You scrolled back up and clicked on the first video she sent you. The sound of music filled the silence, and you were quickly greeted with Solmi’s smiling face as she danced along. She then brought the phone close. 

“You should be here Y/n! You left me with this idiot—” She then turned the camera around to reveal Taehyung who was dancing intensely beside her. It took him a second to notice the camera, but then he smiled as she brought it close. 

“Miss you Y/n!” He tried to say over the music before the video cut off. 

Awwww… you missed them too. But your attention tore away from your phone when you suddenly noticed Jungkook leaning over. 

“They’re at a club on a Tuesday?” He asked curiously. 

You smiled. “Mmmm, someone’s nosy.” You chuckled and that immediately had Jungkook leaning back. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude. I didn’t—” He quickly tried to defend, but you just laughed and leaned over yourself. 

“You’re fine, look.” You held out your phone to him so he could see a little better. At first you contemplated showing your boss these pictures, but you figured there was no harm, they were honestly cute. 

“It's Halloween?” He suddenly said, taking a better look to see they were dressed up.

“Yeah, did you forget?” You laughed, making him chuckle too.

“My memory is horrible these days.” Jungkook shied, running his hands through his hair.

“Understandable. Things have been really busy these days, it’s hard to keep track of what’s happening anymore.”

Jungkook nodded along as you spoke, but he couldn’t help but sigh. It felt like the world was moving without him, that he was just an observer in the background until moments like these where he was brought back down to realize time had in fact passed, and it was always more than expected. He could have sworn it was Chuseok just the other week. 

“Solmi had wanted to go bar hopping after she heard about all the stuff that they’re doing in Itaewon this year. She wanted me to come, but I was busy, so Taehyung decided to tag along and make sure she doesn’t do anything too crazy.” You smiled as you scrolled through the pictures and videos, and you landed on a particularly funny one where Taehyung managed to find a random pole and Solmi captured him hanging and swinging around it.   

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was a special occasion. If I would’ve known, I could've worked on this by my—” But you stopped him. 

“It’s fine, two people make the work go faster, and I had been contemplating going anyway. Who wants to go out on a Tuesday besides Solmi?” You cringed, in all likelihood you probably would have spent your evening cozied up under your blankets, enjoying any free time you could manage and catching up on sleep when you got too tired. “I know they’re going to be struggling trying to get to work tomorrow.” You laughed at your words and at another video where someone had joined Taehyung on the pole, a guy in one of those full-body suits people use for greenscreen stuff. 

But despite your words, Jungkook’s silence told you he still was thinking about it. 

“Jungkook, I promise it’s fine. The wine alone makes up for it.” You smiled. You were definitely going to brag to them that you were gifted expensive wine from the Jeon Jungkook. They probably wouldn’t believe it until they came over and saw the bottle. You also had plans to look it up afterward, check the price, and confirm your sneaking suspicion that this really would make up for it.

Another video. Without pressing play, you could see Taehyung had the phone. What was going on? 

“Y/n, baby, I miss you so much. Solmi keeps trying to—” But the video cuts off before he could finish. 

You laughed and kept going with a smile on your face. You didn’t even notice Jungkook’s eyes or the fact that you didn’t question the nickname.

Hmmm.

“Yah… I don’t think I could do this anymore.” You suddenly said, as more and more hectic documentation came from Solmi.

Jungkook turned to you a little confused about what you meant. You showed him your phone again and revealed the crowd Solmi and Taehyung had found themselves in in their latest pictures. 

“Partying like this. I mean, I didn’t even do all this when I was in college, but now…”  You laughed. “Maybe I’m just getting old.”

“I don’t think we’re old,” Jungkook interjected, making you laugh.

“Oooo, is this when Jeon Jungkook reveals that he actually enjoys going to parties?” The thought was hilarious for some reason. He didn't seem like the party type, at all. You couldn’t imagine him doing anything else but work. 

“No— I just don’t think our age is a factor in us being able to go out and have fun at events like this…” 

You hummed at his answer. “I don’t know, the older I get, the more staying home and doing absolutely nothing becomes more and more appealing.” 

He laughed at that. “For me, that has nothing to do with getting older. But I somewhat see your point, college me was a very different person.” 

Was he?

You peered at him. Now that the thought was in your head, trying to imagine college-aged Jungkook. Hmmm…

You turned around over to where Jungkook had hung up his degrees. You had seen them before, but being this close actually gave you the chance to really look at them. 

You found yourself both shocked and not shocked at all to find out he graduated from SNU. It was the top university in the country, and of course the golden boy probably easily got accepted. No, that wasn't surprising, what was more interesting was the fact he didn’t have one but two bachelor's degrees, one in business and the other in computer science, you quickly read. It wasn’t the most outrageous thing to imagine because he was going to be the CEO of a tech company, but you knew that jaded perception you had of Jungkook still lingered because you couldn’t picture him actually managing to do all that work to get two very different degrees. 

“Did you even have time to go to parties?” You couldn’t help but ask. For all you knew he paid his way to get these degrees, but the more you talked with him, the more you couldn’t picture him doing that.

Jungkook laughed as he leaned back in his chair. “No, but Jimin hyung made me get out sometimes.”

His words reminded you that Jimin had mentioned that he and Jungkook had gone to the same college. As it sunk in though, you found that information a little easier to digest. Jimin had always seemed really smart. 

“Were you always the guy standing in the corner, brooding, clearly upset because his friend dragged him out of the house?” You giggled, and Jungkook joined in.

“You really think I’m that boring?” He laughed and you only just now realized how much closer you both were to each other once again as you looked into his sparkling eyes.  

“You tell me.” You smirked. 

He laughed again.

“Where did you go? Did you go to school in Seoul? I'm surprised we never ran into each other.” You suddenly heard Jungkook ask. 

“Korea University.” You answered quickly, but then your face grew flushed. You should be confident; it was really a notable achievement and most people would be in awe anytime you mentioned it, but for some reason everything about Jungkook made you a little self-conscious. 

“Ooo, so we were pretty much in the same boat then.” He said, and you looked at him with questioning eyes. 

“Did you even have time to go to parties?” He chuckled, repeating your original question. You playfully rolled your eyes at that. 

“I would make time, as much as I could, but I was often in situations like these where I’d be the one left behind so I could work.” You were proclaimed the most fun, non-fun person by your friend group in college.

“Were you the person in the corner?” His low voice had you feeling a little funny.

“Jungkook I’m a lot of things. I’ve been called a workaholic, understandable, but a wallflower is not one of them. You will find me on the dance floor at any given opportunity,” you boasted. 

Jungkook laughed again, the pinkness to his cheeks making you fawn. “I would like to see that.” 

Oh… you hated the way your body tingled at the thought of him watching you.

“Get me alone like this on a Friday or something, bring more wine like this one, and I’ll dance for you.” You smirked. 

His eyes quickly glanced over you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Noted.” 

You nodded, but it was mainly to shake the thoughts running through your mind out of your head. Fuck, Jeon Jungkook.     

“So you haven’t changed much then?” He inquired further. 

You shook your head. “I’ve always been this way. I put work before anything else, but I try to make a little time for fun sometimes.” You smiled. You turned back to Jungkook who had rested his arm on his desk and his head in his hand, with this smile on his face you couldn’t quite recognize.

“How do you do it?” He said softly. 

“What?” You laughed, but you were already getting choked up. He had no reason to look at you like that.

“I don’t know how to make time for anything else besides going home and to work. You’re amazing~” He chuckled nervously.

You were too busy however trained on the fact that he called you amazing. “A-Amazing?” You stumbled, your face was burned the more you thought about it.

Jungkook turned to you again when he realized what he had said. “It’s something I’ve always admired about you. You do so much, and you’re always so great with everyone here. Your meeting yesterday for example—” He gushed, and the more he spoke, the faster your heart started pounding in your chest.

“You did so well, and then there’s me. I’m supposed to be the head, yet—” Jungkook sighed and stopped himself knowing where this would go if he kept going. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

You sighed before picking up your wine and motioning over to his empty glass. He chuckled lightly before picking it up and clinking it against your own. You took one for the team and took a sip for you both.       

“Don’t sweat it too much. You’re not so bad yourself.” You smiled at him as you set the glass down. 

He really wasn’t. He still got on your nerves sometimes, but the Jungkook you’ve gotten to know over the last few weeks was almost entirely different from what you expected before you came into your position. He was cute, in a way that made you want to pinch his cheeks, no… that completely wasn’t right. He was cute in a way that made it hard for you to tear your gaze away from him. He was hot if you were being honest, but you didn’t want to admit that, he was married, and you still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room as to why he was always so weird with you.

As the candle flickered, you took a moment to admire him, and how his white button-up stretched across his toned body nicely. You’d been trying to be on your best behavior all night, forcing yourself not to peer too closely at the way it fitted across his arms, or how he undid that button, and you could only picture how nice his chest might look the way the buttons seemed to be struggling to keep all that contained. Then there were the newly found tattoos that decorated his arm. You’d always liked tattoos, and you never pictured a big-corpa guy like Jungkook to be tatted. It just made you wonder how many more you couldn’t see… His hands were nice, fingers enhanced with his pretty gold and silver jewelry. Then his face, you might have drank too much, it was only one glass, but you had always loved how he looked at you. He was handsome, his pretty eyes, nose, jawline, and lips that you knew his wife probably went crazy over. Jungkook was hot and maybe in a different timeline… In a different timeline… It was starting to make a little more sense why he was already married.    

Jungkook’s face burned the longer your eyes peered over him. His brain was malfunctioning as he felt your gaze. It just made his already scrambled thoughts drift more to a place he knew they shouldn’t.

He wished he could kiss you.

Interrupting the moment was the sound of your phone buzzing on the desk again. You finally tore your eyes away again to look at your phone. Lo and behold, it was another text, however, it wasn't from Solmi this time; it was Taehyung.    

You opened it and it was a video. You once again didn’t think too much about it as you clicked play.

“Y/n!” Taehyung had tried to yell over the music. It seemed he had made his way to a table and was taking a little break. “You should be here getting drunk with us.” He sighed.

“Solmi abandoned me for this random guy who came up to her while we were dancing.” You giggled at the pout on his face. “You should be here, I’m just going to be third-wheeling the rest of the night.” He sighed. 

You laughed at that. Anytime you all have gone out together, you and Taehyung were usually left behind, while Solmi abandoned you both for her person of interest for the night. You always had fun together, making the most of the fact that a member of your friend group left you for some rando for the rest of the night.  

“I miss youuuuuu. Fuck Jeon Jungkook for making you stay.” He whined, and you could tell the alcohol had really started to have an effect on him. You panicked, feeling Jungkook’s eyes burning into your phone.  

Oh, this really was a bad idea. 

“I might head home soon. We’ve been to I don’t know how many bars, and I’m drunk as shit. If I’m late or you don’t see me at work tomorrow, you know why. Anyway, I miss you and if I’m not there tomorrow, I’ll try and come over if you’re free.” You were hardly processing his words as Jungkook’s gaze burned into you.

“Byeeee…” He waved at the camera. “Solmi says bye too even though she’s not here. I’ll text you later.” The video then clicked off and you were left with the mortifying silence.

You worriedly glanced over at Jungkook. “I’m sorry, he didn’t mean it like—”

Jungkook weakly smiled at you. “It’s fine. I still feel bad for keeping you here.” 

“And I told you it was fine.” You both smiled at each other, but you hurriedly reached for your wine once again, feeling that awkward silence return all too quickly.     

“So, um… how are things going for you dating-wise?” Jungkook suddenly asked out of the blue.

You nearly spit out your wine. “What?!”

He suddenly looked panicked. “I just mean— well, I told you about my marriage, I don’t know, I thought— you know, I wondered how things were going for people my age who aren’t married. I mean— well, no, I was really curious about you too—“ He was rambling.

“Uh, it’s fine.” You were still flustered, but you understood what he was trying to say.

“Are you and Taehyung…?” Jungkook stopped himself, worrying he overstepped with the suggestion.

“Mmm, that’s what everyone around the office seems to think.” You sighed as you leaned back in your chair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“Jungkook, do you think you can keep a secret?” You asked, before he could finish.

“Yeah, I guess so.” But that alone was enough to give Jungkook a bad feeling about your answer. The endearing nickname he heard from Taehyung in the video was pretty much the nail in the coffin. It’s not like it mattered. It wasn’t his business, he really didn’t know why he was asking. However, he couldn’t lie and say it hadn’t been on his mind for a while as he watched you from afar over the years. There had always been this suspicion that there had been more going on between you two than just being friends. 

You waited a second, the suspense killing him even though he felt like he knew the answer already. 

“We actually did date.” You answered bluntly.  

The words seemed to linger in the air for a second. You watched as Jungkook’s eyes widened as he seemed to take that in.

“Really?” He sounded surprised, but there was a trembling in his voice that made it seem like the news of the century. The shock hadn’t been real, but he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling that spread throughout his entire body as the words processed in his mind. So, he hadn’t been crazy. He suddenly had the very violent urge to throw up the lunch you had so kindly insisted for him to eat; that, or he could send you away and attempt to water down this feeling with anything he could find in his fridge.

You nodded.

“It was only for a few months, and we never really put a label on it at the time. It was dating in the most casual sense.”

Jungkook was too busy trying his best to ignore the way his heart squeezed, he didn’t even bother paying attention to your use of past tense.

“Again, it was only for a few months— we decided we were better off as friends than anything more at the end of it.”

Did you? Jungkook still saw the way Taehyung looked at you. He wondered how that conversation went. Was it you who made the decision and Taehyung just agreed? Maybe it was him, and Jungkook was wrong. He still didn’t like him.

“We didn’t tell anyone at work, not even Solmi officially; you know how office romances can go. Plus, we knew what people were saying, we didn’t want them to get excited and things didn't work out. But I guess we didn’t do a good job of hiding it.”

Turned out for the better.

“If it’s not too personal, can I ask what made you come to that conclusion?” He really was curious.

You looked around for a second, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to say too much; it’s mainly Taehyung’s business, and I don’t want to reveal anything he wouldn’t want me to, but Taehyung had a lot going on in his life when we started dating. Despite our connection, what he was going through made it hard for us to take things to the next level. It’s kinda hard to describe unless you’ve been in that situation. We had all the basics: we were attracted to each other, he was great company, and we really did mesh well. But the more we crossed into that territory, the more we realized something was missing at that time. It’s like we had all the right ingredients, but never the spark to actually turn it into anything.”

Jungkook didn’t really get the picture. What more did you need in a relationship? What was the “spark?”

He still nodded his head.

“When did this happen?”

“End of last year, slightly going into this one.” You recounted.

Again, that strange feeling of his heart tightening returned. He tried his best to ignore it. However, it wasn’t enough to stop him from asking his next question.

“Would you guys ever get back together? You mentioned he was going through something at the time… would you ever try again?” Jungkook felt his face flush as soon as the words left his mouth. This was probably way too personal. 

You looked noticeably shocked by his question, but maybe you wrote it off as the wine making him a little loose, or perhaps a slightly awkward attempt to keep this conversation going. Part of you considered whether you wanted to answer this question or not, but there was no harm in it really. 

“Um— I guess it’s not impossible. We ended things pretty open ended. Taehyung suggested that maybe we should try again when things finally got better for him, but it’s been months since then. We haven’t spoken about getting together, so I’m not sure. I just assumed he figured we’re better off as friends.” Your words trailed off at the end. 

Jungkook was tempted to ask if you wanted to get back together, but he stopped himself, not really wanting to hear the answer. You probably already thought he was weird.

Some much-needed silence passed for a little while. 

…

Jungkook shifted around in his chair awkwardly, desperately wanting to get the picture of you and Taehyung together out of his mind. He asked the first thing that he could think of, even though it really wasn’t much better. 

“Anything else exciting in the romance department?”

“Not really. Taehyung was probably the most recent. Things have been kinda dry since.” Suddenly, you seemed flustered. “Wait! Not in that way! Well… you know what I mean, right?” 

Now it was Jungkook’s turn to get warm, and he did a horrible job at brushing past the image you put in his head.

“Yeah— oh yeah, I know what you mean.” He spluttered, but he couldn’t stop himself from imagining being buried between your thighs. All of a sudden, his mind was back to that dream again and your pretty sounds as he slid through your warmth. Would you let him make you feel good? What he would give just for the chance to bring you some type of relief… All he wanted to do was make someone feel good.

But he was Jeon Jungkook. Even if he was in a position where he could, he doubted he would be able to do anything for you. Jeon Jungkook couldn’t do anything right. Nothing.

“What about you?” You suddenly asked to ease the tension in the air. “Has it always been your wife?” You were honestly expecting a sob story that would melt your heart as soon as it began, a nice transition to hopefully get away from the weirdness that had settled into the room.

“I guess you could say that— Yuri and I got married right after I graduated. Besides her, I never really dated anyone. I was so busy throughout high school trying to work on getting into a good college once it was decided I was going to be taking over the company— I thought I would wait and try the whole dating thing in college, but then I got there… things were even worse…” Jungkook trailed off.

“Until you met Yuri?” You piped in, wondering when she came into the story.

The mention of Yuri visibly shocked him. Right, because you and everyone else thought they met while in college— a silly suggestion by their parents that turned into a fiery romance that burned so hard they couldn’t wait to get married. If Jungkook were a better husband, that illusion would be so simple to keep up— it’d be so easy when speaking to people to forget about the contract that was signed along with their marriage license. 

But Jungkook wasn’t a good husband, he was a husband who made his wife feel miserable just by being in his presence, no matter how hard he tried. He was always a failure.

“Jungkook?” You questioned when he wasn’t answering, seemingly lost in thought again.

“Oh yeah! Yeah, then Yuri came into my life. Things were hard, but you know what they say, the worst storms always bloom the best flowers afterward.” Jungkook was lying through his teeth, and he wondered if you could tell. 

Going from college to being married was one shitstorm to the next, and it was all his fault. Everything was his fault.

He knew he must have looked strange at the way you continued to stare at him. But instead of pressing any further, you let the silence fill the air until you both finally got back to work. 

Jungkook typed away on his keyboard, but steadily his mind continued to fill with thoughts that felt like bombs going off in his mind— loud and destructive, the ones he knew would end him one day.

If you weren’t here, he would have downed that wine bottle, maybe a couple of beers too to try and bring the eye of the storm closer. But nothing he did was ever enough. It was never enough, just like he would never be. He was so tired, so tired of every single day being the same. He wanted peace, he wanted a happy marriage, he wanted to be a confident boss who assured everyone that Golden Tech was being handed over to a capable person.

Will the storm ever be over? Would he ever get to see the sunshine again? He was so fed up, and so, so tired. It would be so much easier that way. Nothing was helping anymore, no matter how much he’d drink, no matter how much he’d tell himself to get better, to make things better, that everything wrong with his life was his fault— nothing ever changed, nothing ever helped.

In the middle of the sea with no land in sight, sometimes drowning was your only option. His limbs hurt, he was exhausted from swimming too long, he was so tired, he couldn’t keep his head above the water. The sea underneath him no longer seemed like an angry beast trying to pull him down with all its might, he didn’t want to fight against it anymore, he wanted to relax, to let it embrace him, let it comfort him in a way that no earthly distraction could ever grant him. He wanted peace.

Peace. The quiet. He wanted it, needed it, he—

“Jungkook, do you like me?” Once again, you were here to cut through the darkness. At first, he didn’t even register your question until you quickly tried to backtrack. 

“That’s not what I meant— I… sorry I speak without thinking sometimes.” It seems like it happened all the time tonight, and that was all it took for Jungkook to remember he was here alone with you, and he wanted you bent over his desk.

Jungkook tried his best to ignore the way his cock pleaded for you and let you elaborate. 

“I was nearly finished with my work, and I had wanted to ask you this before I left… this might be a bit inappropriate, but I thought that maybe since we’ve been pretty casual with each other you wouldn’t mind if I asked whether you hated me or not.” You worriedly peered over at him.

Jungkook just stared at you, a little confused, wondering where this was coming from. It was right before you were about to elaborate that he understood. 

“Again, this might be out of line, but ever since my first day here, when I spilled coffee all over your suit, I’ve felt like I had a target on my back.” You were still trying to be professional, so you dumbed it down a little. If you said what you actually thought, you were sure you wouldn’t walk out of here with a job.

“I—I don’t hate you!” He rushed out.

He really didn’t, but you did piss him off, you still did. You pissed him off so much it didn’t make sense. It was confusing to him as well, but what happened with the coffee he knew was at the bottom of the list for his reasons— whatever they were.

“Are you sure? I mean, I’m not oblivious; I can see how you treat everyone else on the team versus how you treat me. It’s been like that since my first day.”

It wasn’t a good look.

“I don’t hate you.” He stated a little more firmly this time; he really didn’t. “I will admit we didn’t meet on the best day or under the best circumstances— that just made things awkward from the get-go. But I don’t hate you, Y/n.”

By the look on your face— you still weren’t buying it.

“It’s not you, it’s me, I’m sorry. I have a lot going on in my life, and it seems like you’re often on the receiving end of it. Maybe it was the coffee at first, but I can assure you it’s not because of that.” Jungkook was scrambling, and you were still listening to him.

You already felt a little bad asking him this. Jungkook had a lot going on in his life, that much was obvious. The fact he let you drop the honorifics and gifted you an expensive bottle of wine should be enough proof that he couldn’t possibly hate you.

Unless the clear liquid turned out to be poison, but the fact you were sharing the bottle assured you that shouldn’t be the case. If Jungkook really did hate you, he had a weird way of showing it. But still, even if he didn’t mind your company, he manifested it in the strangest way possible.

“You always complete your work so well too, I can understand that it might be frustrating to you.” Jungkook was still rambling, but that much was true. You were a great employee and someone he could always rely on to get the work done well and on time.

“I’m so sorry.” He finally just pleaded.

You were truly amazing. Everything that he wasn’t.

His anger and frustration were misplaced, he knew that, and it wasn’t fair to you. An actual good boss wouldn't take out his frustrations on his employees, no matter what was going on in his personal life.

It just goes to show how good of a person he is.

“Jungkook, it’s fine. I just wanted to be sure there wasn’t any bad blood between us, especially if we’re going to work a lot more closely from here on out—“  It was then when you finally turned back to him. 

His breath had quickened slightly, he had leaned over his desk, and his hands had tangled into his hair. The long strands blocked his face, but you could tell something was wrong.

You reached a hand out and rested it on his forearm. The minute you did, he finally turned back to face you. Just like on the roof, you saw his eyes, and despite only having the city lights outside and the faint flicker of the candles, you could see the shininess.

It was terrifying, because you were close this time; you could perfectly see the despair that painted his features.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine— we’re almost done, let’s get through this, okay?” He quickly said, returning to typing on his keyboard.

“Jungkook—“ You tried, but he seemed adamant about finishing and getting the work done.

You sighed and followed his lead. You couldn’t ignore the guilt that coursed through your body. Once again, you missed the opportunity.

•────•──────────•────•

The bombs were back once again, and louder than ever it seemed. This happened every time his mind would wander in that direction, and it was almost impossible to turn it off once it started. With you here, it made his usual method of drinking until it stopped impossible unless he wanted to make a fool of himself in front of you. Instead, in order to ensure he wouldn’t lose it, he turned to the only thing he knew would drown the noise in his mind. You— you and that dream he had this morning.

His fingers were fast on the keyboard, but all he could picture as he stared at his screen was the fleeting memory of what it felt like to pound into you.

You on that meeting table, that purple blouse exposing your shoulders, your skirt around your waist, and in, out, in, out, his hips would move into your sopping heat. The drean was so fuzzy, and he hardly had a memory to draw from. It’s been ten months since he last had sex. Ten months of unbearable torture, much like what he experienced this morning.

He’s tried his best to be good to Yuri, assuring her that she was beautiful and telling her he wanted her now and always. Just last week, he had her clinging to their countertop as he was on his knees, pleasing her between her thighs.

It had nearly sent him over the edge untouched. Tears had filled his eyes because he was so sure he’d make another mistake, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her upset. 

He had tried to plead then, but he was too eager and said she had enough for the night. A cold shower had barely stopped him from giving into such disgusting urges, just like earlier today. Now he feared next time he wouldn’t be strong enough. 

If you weren’t right beside him, his hands would probably be in his pants right now. It was horrible, wasn’t it? He couldn’t be an adult and control himself. But that’s what the last ten months of his life had been like— Yuri testing him any chance she could, doing anything and everything to get under his skin. 

Yuri loved to tease him. He loved it too, it was only in those moments when he felt wanted. Didn’t she see how much he wanted her?

As childish as it was, Jungkook wanted to blame her for all this. Why couldn’t she listen? He had told her he wanted a break, a break from anything sexual for a while once he had recovered from pneumonia. It would offer the chance for them to work on and prioritize their relationship— just as he’d discussed with Dr. Min. He begged her to listen, that he would put in the effort so they could spend more quality time together to fill the void. He promised, but that short time she listened was absolutely miserable.

Yuri would wear those tiny shorts more often, and did everything she possibly could to get under his skin. He’d even walked into their room one day to see her using her fingers to do his job. She had forced him to just sit and watch, because it was his dumb idea and he had to pay for it.

It’s just been so long…

You sitting next to him was enough to send him over the edge. You and your short skirt, long legs, and that red lipstick. 

It’s been so long, he wished he could make his dream a reality; he wanted you bent over his desk right now, with your skirt pushed so far up he could watch your ass as he hurriedly pushed into you from behind. You would look so pretty, you always did.

He was desperate at this point, he needed something, anything… 

He had to get out of here. Jungkook wished he could count on Yuri being at the apartment, that she would see what she'd done to him and all would be well again, but he knew she wouldn’t. It’s not like he deserved it either. 

This was his rightful punishment. 

The fact things were so bad, the thought of an affair crossing his mind was sufficient proof that he deserved everything that was happening to him.

Jungkook was hardly paying attention to what he was typing, too focused on trying to stop the tears that were quickly welling up in his eyes and ignoring the way his cock throbbed. 

He was hard, painfully so— in public, and he was right next to you. 

He felt it happen, budget numbers being replaced in his mind with despondency, and how in a haste to escape his darker thoughts, his brain tried to go somewhere a little more buoyant, and instead fixated on the lewdness of what you did to him. That need to feel you, just the thought of feeling you, touching you— for you to need him, he wanted so badly for someone to need him.

This was so embarrassing…

“Alright! I think I’m done on my side~” You celebrated, and it was horrible how when he looked over and saw your bright smile, it just made things worse.

He wanted you. 

It was then that Jungkook realized he’d just been staring at his monitor for a while. It seems he’d been done as well. 

You picked up immediately that something was still off in the look you gave him.

“Uh— uh yeah, me too. We can be done here for tonight. We can meet in the morning and review everything before the meeting later.” Jungkook rushed as he hurriedly shut his computer off.

He needed to get out of here.

He knew his haste shocked you a bit. With his monitor off, a newfound darkness had filled the room, and his speed hurried you to shut off your laptop as well.

Jungkook recorked the wine he was giving you before he tried to get up inconspicuously, turning away from you as much as he could. Even with the darkness in his office, he felt it would be hard to hide what his dirty mind had done to him. 

He couldn’t let you see, he was already so ashamed. 

If you saw this…

His eyes were watery as he shakily got up from his chair. This was so embarrassing…

After you turned your laptop off, you got up too, noticing Jungkook was trying to hurry this up. You didn’t blame him; it was already near one in the morning, but you could still sense something was wrong.

“Jungkook?” You called out as you rested a hand on his shoulder, completely stopping him in his tracks. His eyes glanced down at your hand and then back up at you. You weren’t prepared for the look in his eyes the longer you stared into them. You couldn’t exactly read it; it was similar to what you saw on the roof. 

It made you hot in an instant as you got lost in his dark gaze. You knew you weren’t mistaken this time as you watched him scan over you. The candlelight flickered in between you, illuminating his shiny eyes and how obvious they settled on your lips. It just made you aware how nice his arm felt under your touch, and how alone you both were in the office. This was bad. 

What were you doing? 

“Is everything alright?” You questioned, your voice so meek you wanted to slap yourself. You needed to get it together. 

This causedJungkook to snap out of it as well, finally tearing his eyes away from you. “I— um, I’m fine.” It didn’t sound confident at all, and you noticed. 

You might have questioned it, but you knew you needed to get out of here. 

“Si— Jungkook, I’ll be right back!” You hurried as you started wheeling the chair you stole from Secretary Yu’s desk out the room.

“Alright.” He said weakly as you quickly passed by. 

As soon as the door closed behind you, the tears he had been holding back finally fell down his cheeks. This was just so embarrassing, it hurt so much. He just needed a minute or two alone, that’s all, and he could ease the ache. But that also means giving in, disappointing Yuri more than he already has.

Jungkook quickly wiped his face, scared you might come in any second now, and instead worked on blowing out the candles that were still burning around the room.

The darker it was, the less likely you’d see his shame.

Jungkook made quick work of blowing the candles out around the room, first going to the ones on the little tables, then he came back to where he had placed the most, on his desk.

As much as he wished this was a sufficient distraction, it wasn’t. He was still thinking about you and how much he wished you would be the one to help him, he would take anything at this point.

He was blowing out the last candle when he heard the door open again.

“Woah, you did a lot without me.” You remarked, seeing the room darkened by the candles being out already. And he was glad he worked so fast. One candle and he feared that would have been enough for you to notice what he was hiding.

It was disgusting how badly he wanted you.

“Y-yeah, I don’t want to keep you here later than necessary.” He stuttered and shakily turned around to face you.

Jungkook was nearly blown away seeing how gorgeous you were. The window bathed you in a beautiful glow that was only achievable by the moonlight. You were absolutely stunning, a goddess, a temptress pulling him in to commit the most horrible acts; and it was working.

Your heels steadily clicked as you walked, your red-stained lips that were turned up into a warm smile lured him even further into temptation, all the while your twinkling eyes peered over his quivering body.

He wanted you so badly…

The sweet perfume you were wearing just made the tears in his eyes grow even heavier, you smelled really good. He would do anything to relieve this ache. The desire was mind numbing at this point.

Jungkook hardly noticed both of your jackets and the scarf he’d worn were in your hands.

You handed him his jacket with a weak smile. It took him a minute to realize what you were doing, too busy staring into your shimmering orbs that would always have him choked up anytime he tried to speak to you.

“Jungkook?” You called out worriedly.

“U-uh I-I’m sorry.” He tried to laugh it off as he grabbed it, but he failed miserably, and it sounded more like a choked sob. He was hoping you’d brush it off as he quickly put on his black, fuzzy trench coat, but he knew it was too late in the way his vision grew blurry from tears. The dam had been broken and he just couldn’t stop it anymore.

You were still holding his scarf when he finally looked back up at you, and the look of concern in your face was unmistakable. You could see his despair.

“Jungkook…” Your voice was so soft and warm, like a flame lit in the dead of night. You reached up to drape the scarf across his shoulders, but your eyes were still locked into his, like you were staring right through his soul and could easily see everything.

Standing so close, you could see the pain hidden behind the starry way his eyes would shine, you could feel the hurt— they were just like Mi-Sun’s. Your hand lingered on his shoulders, before you finally found the confidence to reach your hand up and ever so gently cup his cheek.

Like on instinct, he couldn’t stop himself from nuzzling further into your warmth, a flicker of light in the frozen tundra he had become. It was an overwhelming affection he had never known, and while you may have just done it because of how pathetic he looked, it was something. He closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the taste of the haven he’d been craving for years.

“Jungkook, are you ok?” You finally asked earnestly because he genuinely looked like he was about to break. 

Jimin had been the only person to ever ask him that. He thought he’d been doing well at hiding from everyone the storm that raged on in his mind, but hearing you could clearly see something was wrong…

It felt real, too real.

You looked so worried, and as he felt your hand on his cheek, he just broke down.

Jungkook shook his head as tears easily slipped past his eyes and trickled down your hand. 

He wasn’t fine, he was the furthest from fine. Sometimes he wished the earth would swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to wake up and feel like this every single day. He hadn’t been fine in years, and the weight of it all came crashing down at that very moment. He could tell you were about to question him further, but he didn’t give you the chance as his hand slowly came up and snaked around your waist to pull you close.

Jungkook didn’t know what he was doing, this was wrong on so many levels and went against everything he stood for, but in the moment he didn’t think, he just wanted to stop the pain. 

That warmth, he needed you.

Jungkook pulled you so close, closer than you both stood earlier in the hallway on the roof, you could probably feel the shame he was trying to hide.

Time stood still for a second as he stared down at your red-stained lips, the bright color like a lighthouse for a desperate sailor in the middle of a storm. You were the refuge he needed, and right now, he didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted you.

Jungkook leaned forward so he could rest his head in the crook of your neck and bathed in the sweet scent of your perfume. He was so worthless that even just that seemed to make the ache worse.

He felt your arms wrap around his waist and you pulled him a little closer. The movement was slight, but it created just enough friction for a soft, unmistakable moan to escape his lips.

You could certainly feel it now.  

Jungkook felt like his skin was on fire, only moments away from boiling over, and you were the only one who could fix this. 

He lifted his head slowly, his face still wet with the tears that continuously spilled from his sad eyes. The hand that had been on your waist quickly trailed up your side to settle on your jawline, his thumb so gently grazed across your cheek.

You were dangerously close, he’d never experienced a need to this degree. He needed you, he wanted you so badly he wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

“Please— I need— can we…” You probably could barely hear him, his voice hoarse from the strain and he was shaking so much. 

But it seemed he didn’t need to elaborate; you knew what he wanted. Your hand came up from his waist to grab his shoulders to pull him closer, making his lips not even centimeters from yours.

Jungkook lost it. He couldn’t stop himself as he finally closed the distance. His lips were on yours in a haste, but he was slow and gentle as you both tried to process the fact this was happening. 

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he tasted the sweetness of the wine you both drank only moments before. Your lips were so soft, pillowy, and inviting. He could feel the soft tickle of your breath beneath his nose, gently pulling you close, as you breathed each other in.

The world around him seemed to disappear at that moment. He forgot about Yuri, he forgot about his marriage, he forgot how shitty he’s been feeling, he forgot about the contract, he forgot who he was. Right now, he wasn’t the future CEO of the second-biggest tech provider in the country— he was just Jeon Jungkook.

Nothing else mattered in the moment. It was just you, him, and ten months' worth of bottled-up lust.

His touch was hesitant at first, like he was so sure any moment you might change your mind. He thought you would, he was sure you would, that you would realize what he was doing, and your appalled reaction would be enough to finally wake him up and make him register what he’d just done. His brain was shot, but he remembered what this was usually like, waiting for the moment when you would say something, yell, scream, complain that he wasn’t good enough. He didn’t think he was, but that just made him more desperate. He wanted to prove himself.

But you never stopped him as his hands steadily grew more fervent, tugging at your white button-up and traveling down your sides to grab and touch as much as he could, settling just above the curve of your ass. The kiss quickly grew more heated, from slow, sensual pecks, to you both were practically trying to eat each other, building the ever-growing heat that settled between you two. It wasn’t a slow flame that steadily spread, but an explosion of lust that violently consumed everything in its path. 

Your hands grew curious, playing with the button-up he had tucked into his black slacks, and occasionally pressing down into the belt wrapped around his waist.

The sensation made Jungkook’s knees almost give out entirely. He fell back slightly onto his desk that sat behind him, breaking the kiss for just a second.

The moment was brief, but Jungkook used it as the perfect opportunity to finally let his hands slip under your skirt. He gripped your ass, enjoying the way the soft skin felt in his grasp way too much.

Fuck.

Jungkook didn’t know how it happened; all he could remember was hearing you gasp as he suddenly flipped you both around and had you pinned against his desk. He didn’t give you any time to process what was happening, because his lips were back on yours with even more ferocity. He just had to feel you. 

It hurt so much.

Jungkook could hardly help you up, the kiss grew more intense, and all he heard was the sound of anything in the way being forcefully pushed back— some things clattering to the ground, your heels even falling off in the commotion. But he couldn’t care less, not with the way you were clinging onto him as desperately as he needed to feel you.

It was messy, so fucking messy as he kissed you with all the pent-up lust that’s been building since you walked into him with your coffee. Your teeth clinked together more often than not. Jungkook was kissing you so hard, at some point he was so sure he was going to actually climb inside you.

But it felt so good.

Your legs hastily came up to wrap around his waist, pulling his needy self to where he wanted to be so fucking badly. The moan he let out was embarrassing; it was more like a whimper in all honesty, but he couldn’t stop thinking about this morning and all the dreams he had of being in this exact position.

His hips eagerly chased yours, desperate, so fucking embarrassingly desperate for any type of friction.

Everything was happening so fast, and still, the tears didn’t stop pouring out of his eyes. It was so sad, Jungkook couldn’t even kiss you anymore. The moment his aching cock felt your clothed heat against his, kissing you proved impossible. 

His mind felt like the most chaotic storm; he felt drunk not off the wine you shared, but of you, and he wanted so much more.

“Oh—“ You cried.

Just a few glides of his hips and he had you making such pretty sounds, even better than what he remembered from his dream. He only got greedier, and his pace increased too much.

He was going to cum.

“F-fuuu-uck” he tried to hold it back, but it just came out as something in between a moan and a sob. 

“It’s ok…” Your voice was soft and gentle as you tried to get him to look at you again. His eyes were so pretty, you wanted to see them again.

“I need you so bad.” Jungkook cried into the crook of your neck.

It hurt so much. He wanted to cum, any longer, and he was sure this was going to turn into a horrible disaster. He was so tempted to keep going just like this, to rock into you until he came in his pants like he was sure to at any moment.

“You can— have me— it’s alright.” Your voice was so soothing, but hicked when his hips came to meet yours in a haste. Your hand came up to run through his long hair. 

The affection was new, something he hadn’t experienced before, which made things so much worse.

It physically pained him to pull away, even for just a second, as he moved over and straddled your thigh— that wasn’t his intention, but your thigh was right there as he worked to change the position, and he needed to feel anything to ease the ache.

On instinct, your thigh raised up, and he could have cried— he was crying. He hadn’t stopped crying since you walked in— it just felt so good. His brain was scrambled, but he couldn’t— he wouldn’t allow himself to cum until he was inside you. He wanted to be selfish. He needed you.

Jungkook grabbed your chin so you would look up at him. He took a second to admire your delicate features; you were absolutely stunning, and he hated it. To drown out the agony, he kissed you lightly before moving to your cheek and he trailed down to your neck.

“Jungkook…” His name fell so prettily from your lips as your arm wrapped around his neck.

For a split second, Jungkook thought about Taehyung— he wondered if while you were together he got to see you like this, if you moaned his name so beautifully. It was only for a second, but it was enough to get him to suck a little harder on your skin, so that it would leave a mark.

He hoped it would.

“Don’t stop—” You whined. 

Jungkook let his hand travel down your body, stopping when he felt the buttons of your shirt. He needed this shit off now.

Using what very little brain power he had left, he tried to focus on getting the buttons undone, but it proved to be an impossible task. He was only using one hand, and Jungkook was more than distracted with painting your neck and enjoying the subtle pleasure of rubbing himself along your thigh.

Frustrated, Jungkook did the only thing his horny brain could think of at that moment, and pulled the fabric until the buttons snapped. For a second, he hoped he didn’t break any of them, but the worry quickly went away as he noticed the newly exposed skin and the pretty black bra you were wearing. His hands were eager and massaged your mounds with need. He was almost hypnotized as the moonlight outside painted your body and the feel of your soft skin in his hands.

The ache just got worse when he heard the soft sighs of pleasure fall from your red-stained lips. It delighted him too much seeing how it was smeared across your face. 

He hoped you weren’t too disappointed when he pulled away, but he hastily pulled up your skirt so it was bunched around your waist, just like it had been in his dream. The sight was even more bewitching than he imagined when he noticed what you were wearing.

Jungkook had too many fantasies where he would rip your stockings off to fuck you, but unlike what he’d pictured, you weren’t wearing stockings like he had expected, but the black sheer that covered your legs were thigh highs.

He just stared for a second because the wave of need that washed over him, didn’t make any sense at all. 

He whimpered as the picture started to become clearer, the sheer fabric coming up your legs to the lacy ends, your skirt bunched around your waist, and the black panties he could now see covering your core. It was hot; you were so hot, and he wanted to ruin you.

Suddenly, you grabbed his hand that was resting on your thigh. He looked into your eyes and could see the concern behind your gaze.

“You’re shaking…” You whispered so gently.

Jungkook looked down at his hand, and indeed he was.

Why? He didn’t know, and he didn’t really care at that moment. Jungkook did what he wanted to for so long, instead of answering, he shut you up with a kiss. Sometimes, you really did talk too much. No more talking; he couldn’t even think straight anymore to form an actual sentence. Instead, he used what little brain power he had left and let his hand slide up your thigh to hover right over your panties.

Jungkook barely touched you, but you were already bucking into his hand, like you were just begging for more. The arm you had wrapped around his neck tightened to pull him closer.

“Jungkook, please, please touch me.” You looked him directly in the eyes as you broke the kiss. 

He’d never heard those words before, and he knew from that point on that they should be illegal in how much they affected him. He wanted to please you—

Jungkook didn’t waste anymore time, and let his fingers brush over your clothed heat. He nearly lost his mind feeling the fabric damp already.

Did he do that?

“Please…” You whined, and Jungkook nearly broke after seeing the look on your face seemingly growing more frustrated.

He loved it too much.

Jungkook pressed into you a little harder, the fabric growing wetter by the second, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you. You clung onto him tighter when he pushed your panties to the side, finally letting his fingers run through your soaked folds. You cried out, and he almost did too when your pretty whines grew more desperate.

His fingers stopped once they reached your clit, rubbing tiny circles across the bud. Jungkook’s heart nearly beat out of his chest at your reaction, the way you shook and moaned underneath him, and he reveled in your pleas for more.

It just made him more eager once his fingers came down to your pleading hole, slowly pushing the digits inside you. 

The ache was unbearable now.

You cried out for him, it was his name that fell from your lips, and he couldn’t stop imagining it was his cock instead as he pushed in further. 

He wished it was.

You felt so good, so warm, so tight, and he still couldn’t get over how wet you were. He could hear the slick sounds of his fingers as they pumped inside you, just imagining this was his cock alone could have made him cum.

And so could you, the suddenness of everything had your body on high alert, every new sensation, so unexpected you couldn’t keep up. It was all too much, his body on yours, his fingers inside of you, his pained whimpers as he steadily rubbed himself along your thigh.

Too much, yet you wanted more, you wanted so much more. You wanted to make him feel good too, so good that he wouldn’t hurt anymore.

“Jungkook, please.” You cried, pulling him close. You didn’t expect him to kiss you, but you relished in the sensation, enjoying the way his lips felt against yours. Even in that moment, you couldn’t stop focusing on how wet his cheeks were and the feeling of more tears trickling down onto you.

You wanted him to be ok.

Jungkook groaned into the kiss, pulling away slightly; he sped up his pace, enjoying the slick sounds of his fingers moving inside you and your pleading reaction way too much.

You cried and moaned so easily for him, like you both weren’t in his office right now, like you weren’t getting fingerfucked on his desk. It was dirty, and he hated how much he loved this.

“Does this feel good?” His raspy whisper right into your ear just made it all worse.

And it was all too much, he wanted to be inside you so badly, and he knew that if he waited any longer, he wouldn’t make it. 

“Yes, yes— fuck, yes!” You answered, clinging onto him just a little tighter.

He was already so close. Pathetic, so fucking pathetic.

As much as he didn’t want to, Jungkook finally found the strength to pull his fingers out of you. What he would have given to see you fall apart on his fingers, but not when he felt like he was seconds away from combusting. He had to hurry this up.

You whined at how empty you felt all of a sudden and were about to question it, maybe even scream because you were getting so close, but the moment of clarity let you feel his shaky hand on your thigh as he sank to his knees.

You looked at him confused as to what he was doing, but it didn’t take long for you to get the picture as he started spreading your thighs once again.

You pulled on his hair lightly, making him look up at you with his big, bright, bewildered, round eyes. You felt your body light a blaze at the sight, so innocent in such a dirty position.

“No time. Want you inside me.” It was blunt, but the moment didn’t allow for anything more. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to still seem confused. 

“You— you don’t need me to—“ His voice was just as shaky as his hands were. He genuinely seemed confused.

“Just fuck me, please.” You whined, your hand coming down to rest under his chin. His eyes were red and watery, and you just hated it. You’d do anything to see him better.

Jungkook steadily rose to his feet once again, but that brief moment of pause was short-lived, as he was on you in a haste, lips on lips, needing, chasing, he had to feel you.

Jungkook had been so worried, so worried he’d disappoint you, he’d nearly burst into tears when he got on his knees knowing he couldn’t eat you out without making a mistake. Then you said it, just like Yuri did after she came back from that New Year’s party. You wanted him, needing him to make you feel good. “Just fuck me, please.” He’d never forget it, to the point it was replaying in his head even now, as he tried his best to make that one thing happen.

He just had to last a little longer. 

Jungkook scrambled, trying to feel you, kiss you, and get his belt loose. It was all too much, why he ever decided to wear belts in the first place was beyond him at the moment. So little was in the way, he had your permission, and all that stood in between what he wanted were a few thin layers of fabric.

He desperately rubbed himself against you, needing the friction as he kissed you, fuck, why wasn’t he inside you yet?!

Then your hands eagerly raked across his back, trying to pull him close. Yuri had never done that to him, and it was too much, too much when he’s not inside you yet. Jungkook tried again to get his belt off, but he couldn’t think anymore and was growing more desperate by the second, your hands, fuck he was so close. 

Tears spilled out of his eyes, so worried he was about to embarrass himself when he was so close, but then you swooped in to save the day.

You broke the kiss when you noticed he was struggling a bit, and decided to help.  

He looked so pretty like this, the moonlight highlighting all of his delicate features, his eyes sparkling so sadly in the light. He looked sad, so sad that if you made one wrong move, he’d burst into tears. What could possibly be making him feel this way?

Your hands ran up his back, over his shoulders, and down to the buttons of his shirt. You didn’t miss the way he shivered, his eyes fluttered closed, and his grip on your thigh grew tighter as you went past his neck. 

Your hands were a little shaky, but you managed to undo them all. As more was revealed, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of Jungkook being absolutely built. You had a feeling he worked out, but the sight of his firm chest, then his defined abs was one shock after another. 

It was bad how much you needed him.

It was lucky you were so distracted that you entirely missed how red Jungkook’s face had become under your gaze. He was scared, scared of you seeing him like this and thinking he was just as pathetic as Yuri says. What if you hated—

With his shirt undone, you slowly ran your hands over his warm skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. Down his nape, chest, abs, and then eventually settling on his belt. 

Jungkook tried his best not to rut into you like some animal, but he had never been touched like this before, and he feared he was seconds away from exploding because of how good it felt. 

Taking him out of his spiraling thoughts, you hurriedly tugged on his belt, finally getting it undone so you could unfasten his pants.

His eyes were watery once again, feeling your hands graze past the prominent outline in his slacks. 

“P-Please!” He cried because it hurt so much, and he just wanted to feel you. His voice was hoarse, sounding more like a pained sob than anything coherent, but he needed anything at this point. 

“Don’t worry, I got you.” You whispered right in his ear as you finally freed his aching length. 

Jungkook didn’t know what he was expecting, just enough help so he could finally push himself inside you, but then you didn’t let go. It didn’t fully register until you stared directly into his watery eyes and started dragging your hand slowly up his length. Jungkook could have screamed, he really wanted to, and would have if his voice wasn’t so hoarse. Maybe he was and he didn’t even realize it.

As you reached the tip, you focused all your attention on massaging the head, wanting to get a reaction out of him. You were pleasantly surprised as your thumb ran over the tip, the amount of pre-cum that seemed to just leak onto your fingers…

“Oh god.” He groaned, his voice was so shaky as he writhed in your grasp. He quickly had to shut his eyes, the pleasure was too much.

“Does this feel good?” Your voice was gentle once again, and Jungkook felt like he was moments away from blowing it. A strangled moan he couldn’t hold back left his lips.  

He couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening. Your hand was…? You were touching him? It was strange, horrible even, that for a moment he thought about Yuri, back in April when he practically begged her to touch him, just like this. He had begged her, but with you, he didn’t even need to ask. 

It was awful, so fucking horrific, but your hand was too much to handle as you went from running your fingers over the tip to steadily pumping his cock. Jungkook immediately knew he should have said something; each glide of your hand sent him closer to an edge he was practically hanging off of already, but fuck. This was pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

Jungkook whined as he buried himself into your shoulder and pushed you further into the desk. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something, to stop you. It would have been so easy. He knew deep down he didn’t want to. He moaned as he subtly rocked his hips into your grasp, he thought of this morning, how easily Yuri stopped, and the thought of having that taken away again.

He should have said something, he didn’t need to see your face to know you weren’t expecting this to go as far as it did. 

You’d only wanted to tease him a little before he finally filled you up, but maybe you should have realized how close he was. You certainly weren’t expecting his hoarse moans to grow louder and pained. 

His grip on your thighs quickly tightened, and suddenly, with a very pained cry, you felt wetness across your fingers. 

A colossal wave of pleasure hit him all at once with a strangled cry, a feeling he hadn’t felt after nearly a year. It was more than ecstasy, a high he never wanted to end, the most he’d felt in months. For a second, his life wasn’t a mess. He was happy, and everything was fine. It was overwhelming, and his knees nearly gave out entirely as you started gently pumping his length to help work his way through his high. 

It was a terrible mix of the pleasure he’d craved for months, and the guilt of being the failure he knew he was. Months of waiting, and he couldn’t at least make it inside you. It was embarrassing, pathetic, and not to mention as the ropes continued to come with each flick of your wrist, deep down he knew he truly had made a loathsome mistake because it just wouldn’t stop.

But it felt so good, it seemed never ending as each glide from your hand brought more euphoria than his brain ever thought was possible to experience. Yet the searing guilt that simmered behind the pleasure made his mangled moans turn into sobs. He was bawling in your arms, his tears soaking the fabric of your shirt. 

Your free hand gently rubbed his back to try and soothe him. He was shaking.

“I—I’m so sorry— so sorry.” Jungkook choked out. He clung to you a little tighter and buried himself further into your neck. He didn’t want to see the disappointed look on your face, he wouldn’t be able to bare it—

“Jungkook, it’s ok…” You tried to comfort him, feeling yourself getting a little emotional.

Your reassurance meant nothing, if anything it just made him more upset; he hated pity. This was a mistake, he was so disappointing, that’s all he ever did was make people disappointed. 

You seemed to notice your words didn’t do anything, so you pulled him out of your neck so he could look at you.

But instead of meeting your eyes, he immediately moved far back enough to see the scene of the crime. You were practically covered in his cum, your hand that had been grasping his length was coated in it, and your shirt and skirt were ruined with his mess. Ten months of shame and he’d covered you in it. 

Jungkook’s face burned at the sight.

His gaze finally pulled away to look into your eyes. Even in the darkness, you could see how wet and red his face was, but the tears never stopped as the guilt and embarrassment continued to take over him.

“I’m sorry— I didn’t—“ He tried to feign, but he was lying right through his teeth. He could have told you to stop sooner, but he didn’t want to; he had just been so close. 

Your sympathetic eyes just made things worse as you continued to look at him. 

“I wanted to—“ He wanted to fuck you, that much was true. As nice as your hand felt, he wanted more, so much more. To think he could have been buried deep inside you if he hadn't given in so quickly. 

“Jungkook, it’s ok, don’t worry about it.” You tried to reassure him, but with the haze of his orgasm fading, reality began to hit him at full force. 

He ruined your clothes, and he literally came all over you like a fucking teenager. How much more embarrassing could he be?!

“I can replace them if you want.” He sniffled out, but he felr like could barely understand him through his sobs. 

“It’s ok, I’m serious.” Your slight smile gave him more sympathy than he deserved. 

You turned around and noticed the tissue box beside you. You let him go, making a slight whine escape his lips as you did so, and you grabbed a tissue to start cleaning yourself up. 

…

To make matters worse, if he couldn’t get any more despicable, the lack of contact made a horrible realization dawn upon him. 

He still wanted more. Instead of the guilt from his actions, the burn raged on, a little tamer this time, but it was still there sizzling, waiting to erupt once again at any moment.

You finally looked up, noticing his apologies had become too quiet and his hands had begun to steadily run over your waist again. You hoped this meant Jungkook realized everything was alright and that there were no hard feelings, but you were a little shocked to see his dazed gaze staring directly down at your opened-up shirt that had your black bra still exposed. 

There was a hunger in his eyes you recognized from earlier. Hmmmm…

You put the tissue down before you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him close. You were delighted at the sound of his gasp as he was tugged flush against your chest. You kissed his neck, before you moved back up to trail kisses along his jaw up to his ear. His grip on your thigh grew tighter with each move you made.

“Did you want to keep going?” Your voice was soft as you felt him shiver in your grasp.

“We—we don’t have to!” His voice was a lot louder than yours, like he was trying to defend himself from being led into a trap, but you felt his grip tighten around your waist.

The number of times he’d begged Yuri for a second chance anytime he came too quickly, he couldn’t believe this was real. This had to be a trap, you were trying to embarrass him, weren’t you? You wanted to ruin him. 

“You think you’re up for it?” You asked once again, your tone dropping to an octave that made his whole body shiver. 

If only you knew he could keep it up the whole night. Jungkook couldn’t say anything, he almost didn’t want to; at any moment, he thought you would take it back.

“You don’t know what you’re doing…” He whispered, lightly rubbing his cheek against yours. You were unlocking a part of himself he was scared to face. He didn’t think he could come back from this.

“I do… don’t worry.” Your tone was low as your teeth grazed across his ear. A moan fell from his lips before he could stop it. He felt like an animal as his mind thought about all the things he wanted to do to you. Instead of the degradation he’d expect from Yuri, his silence was rewarded with you wrapping your hand around his semi-hard length and pumping him once again ever so gently, careful not to overstimulate him too much. 

Jungkook could have screamed; his voice was too hoarse, but a guttural moan escaped his lips before he could even realize it. He couldn’t believe it; he had to be dreaming. But dream or not, that didn’t stop his softening length from beginning to grow hard once again in your grasp. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you.

“Please…” It was a sad, desperate plea. He just had to feel you once tonight.

This time, you didn’t hesitate to spread your legs for him, using one hand to pull your panties to the side and the other to rub him through your folds. You were absolutely soaked. A whine fell from both your lips as Jungkook resisted every urge to fuck into you. 

He could probably cum just from this again if you kept this up.

You didn’t tease him for long, seeing his expression growing increasingly impatient. You couldn’t wait any longer either, as you took it upon yourself to guide his tip to your dripping hole. 

You sighed in relief as Jungkook finally took control and slowly sank himself further into you. The more you took, the more you could have screamed, the fit filling you up in all the right places.

How much you wanted him to just destroy you…

Jungkook wanted to do just that, but the sweet sting of overstimulation made his worked-up length that much more sensitive to a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. His eyes stung from the tears, and he felt drunk off the warmth of your walls wrapping around him, almost pleading to milk him of anything he had left. 

Too fast, and he knew you’d do just that.

He waited, as much as his body didn’t want to, but he wanted to try and make things right this time. He wanted to make you feel good too.

Soft sighs of pleasure escaped you, but you still tried to focus your mouth on his neck— gently sucking on a spot where he quickly found out was surprisingly sensitive. 

“Fuck…” He groaned. This was all new to him, and he wanted more.

“Y/n… can I move?” Jungkook rushed out. He felt like he was seconds away from losing his mind.

“Please…” You begged, just as desperate. 

Your plea was all he needed for him to slowly pull his hips out before shakily pushing back in. An embarrassing series of whines left his mouth in the process, not at all thinking about how loud he was anymore.

Tears spilled out of his eyes as the slick sounds started to fill his office. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. This was worse than his first time, he felt like a virgin all over again as he moved through your sopping heat, he wasn’t going to last long at all. 

Jungkook immediately had to focus on not cumming again, feeling the edge approaching so quickly, but he had to make you feel good this time.

His pace was a little awkward at first; he was too eager at times to feel you, making him fumble his rhythm, but he was quick at getting back in the groove of things. 

“Jungkook—“ You moaned out, your legs wrapping around his waist so he wouldn’t go far. You just needed him close, as close as he could get.

Fuck, how long has it been? Were you really this desperate? 

You clung onto him tightly, hearing his pretty whines with each glide of his hips. 

If you thought about it too much right now, you might come back down to the reality of the consequences of your actions. Weren’t you both about to leave just moments ago? But you didn’t think about it, you honestly couldn’t think about it as his cock glided past that spot that made you see stars. 

Fuck.

You both reveled in the pornographic sounds of skin slapping against skin and the subtle sounds of the creaking of his desk anytime he’d push inside you. Random objects would get knocked off occasionally as he pushed you further onto the desk, but neither of you cared, too focused on chasing a high that was quickly approaching.

Your hand ran through his hair, tugging at the strands in desperation, while the other was down his back, your manicured nails dragging across the white fabric that you knew would probably leave a mark. 

Your moans nearly drowned out his own,, but you both seemingly didn’t care about the fact that you were in public. 

Jungkook’s mind was filled with nothing but white-hot need, your hands on his body, it had never been like this, it had never felt like this. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself except fuck into you as quickly as his body would let him, any second spent apart was too long, needing to stay buried in your warmth.

You were fucking touching him— someone— touch— fuck.

“C-c-close!” Jungkook rushed out suddenly. He hurriedly wrapped his arm around your back and lifted your thigh so he could fuck into you even deeper. He just couldn’t get enough. Why did this feel so good?!

Jungkook wanted to delay it as much as he could so you would feel good too, but then your lips were on his neck and suddenly he had no self-control.

Still so sensitive from his last orgasm, fresh tears spilled from his eyes as he felt himself speeding toward the edge.

“Can I—“ He wanted to ask for permission, but at this point, he feared a no wouldn’t even be enough. 

“It’s okay… let go for me.” Your voice, always so sweet as you focused on running your fingers through his hair. It felt so good, so good that he wanted to cry right there in your arms. He could have, if that feeling hadn’t finally spilled over into another embarrassing whine.

“I’m sorry— so sorry, sorry, I’m—“

His rhythm turned frantic, then got sloppy, chasing, and chasing, till he buried his face in your shoulder as he came again, ropes and ropes of cum filling you up. It was hard to believe he came just minutes ago.

He sounded like he was crying again, maybe he was, but the pleasure overtook any realization of his surroundings. Jungkook’s moans turned silent, his voice too hoarse for anything louder. He wanted to scream, just wave after wave of pleasure hit him as he steadily thrusted into you. You were so nice, you always were, as you gently kissed his neck and rubbed his back.

You knew he needed it, you could feel the tears across your neck and the way he lightly shook in your arms. 

It had never been that intense before; a full minute passed and he was still getting hit with the shakes as another wave would hit. 

It was so good, so good, but he wasn’t satisfied just yet. 

Jungkook eventually found the strength to pull himself slightly away from your shoulder. Your kind eyes looked at him with so much concern, that he hardly gave you any time to process before he was kissing you again. It was a slow, sensual kiss, and his hand came up to cup your cheek so that he could have you just a little closer. A brief moment of calm, a second to settle your beating hearts.

It was at that moment, without you noticing, Jungkook slid his hand in between your bodies. You didn’t realize it until you felt his fingers on your clit, earning an immediate gasp out of you. Jungkook hummed lightly before kissing down your neck. 

You were so sensitive and so close already… 

“Cum for me…” Jungkook whispered across your skin. 

You will, you wanted to so badly.

“Jungkook—“

His fingers quickly picked up the pace, and you cried out for him. Jungkook could feel you tightening around his cock, spent, but greedy for more, as he started slowly thrusting into you once more. 

He groaned. You felt so good— it just didn’t make sense.

This was about you though, and he had to make you feel just as good as you had made him. Jungkook relished in the way you clung onto him as your orgasm grew nearer. You were so close, he could feel it. 

His fingers were skilled, so skilled you hardly had time to process before you came face to face with the edge you craved more than anything at that moment. 

“Please— please, fuck, fuck, please!” You cried, and Jungkook nearly did too at how tightly you were squeezing him. Overstimulation, two orgasms, and the pain mixed with pleasure, had him speeding to his third. But this was all about you, and he pulled away to watch your expression as you fell apart.

Jungkook almost didn’t feel worthy as he watched your eyes roll back, and your moans and pleas turned into one big sigh of relief as your orgasm washed over you. You gripped him hard, and you had him crying out with you, cumming for the third time today.

It probably was a little over a minute since his last one, and he didn’t have much to give, but you made sure to milk him of everything he had left, and he loved it.

You, this, everything, it was so good. 

Jungkook, through the haziness of it all, helped you both through it, his hips steadily rocking into you, and his fingers still at work until you whined at the overstimulation.

Jungkook quickly pulled you in for another kiss. It was lazy, you both were exhausted at this point, but Jungkook craved the affection more than ever as the rush, the heat, burn, and desire started to settle down. All that was left in its wake was the startling realization of what you both had just done. 

The wetness began to pool in between you, his body ached, the guilt was beginning to wash over him, and the treacherous reality he ran from was back.

As much as he didn’t want to, Jungkook eventually found the strength to pull out of you. It hurt physically speaking, but it was even worse mentally. He didn’t want to leave, not with how warm and wet you were around him. It took everything in him to slowly but surely leave your warm embrace, a pained whine falling from his lips, before he took a step back. 

Your hooded eyes stared at him as you breathed heavily. He was probably doing the same, but he could hardly pay attention as he stared at his mess: 

Your lipstick was heavily smeared, your hair disheveled, your legs still spread with your skirt bunched up around your waist, your stockings had runs all over them, and your panties he’d pulled to the side were back in place but soaked with a mix of both of your juices.

Jungkook wanted to feel ashamed; he should, he had ruined you, but your fucked out expression only made a startling realization come over him. He liked seeing you like this, and it made the flame that had started to quell, spark once again.

This wasn’t right. None of this was right. 

Jungkook should feel guilty right now. Not only had he ruined his marriage, you were also now caught up in his mess. Instead, all that resided as you both calmed down, was a startling numbness. 

He should feel guilty, but it was so fucking horrible how much he enjoyed it. This was a relief Jungkook had never known could come from sex. He was spent, exhausted, yet craved more all at the same time. 

But he really did feel bad, seeing you like this, and Yuri… however, that’s not what his mind could focus on. As horrible as it was, he felt… good.

Jungkook gently helped you off his desk. Your knees were a little wobbly, but he held onto you tightly as he guided you over to the couch. 

You silently thanked him and watched as he went to grab your coat and shoes, which had dropped to the floor during the commotion. As soon as he handed it to you, he then kindly went over to pack up your laptop for you and grab the bottle of wine.

It was sweet, too sweet almost, considering what the fuck just happened.

You and Jungkook… you and Jungkook?

This was the same Jungkook you hated until about a month ago. This was the same Jungkook who had made your life at work hell for nearly two years. This was the same Jungkook that was married. 

You started to put on your stuff, Jungkook picked up all things that had fallen off his desk, before he had his own coat and scarf in hand, and he took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. You were quickly reminded how you found yourself in this situation as he practically collapsed. A pained sigh left his lips and his hands were tangled in his hair once again. 

You quickly scooted over. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!” Jungkook cried, his sad eyes only looking at you for a second before his hair was in the way again. 

This… this is precisely why. Something about the look in his eyes, the pain in his voice, it was too much, and you wanted to do anything to fix that. 

You let your arm wrap around him. “You want to talk about it?” Your voice, soft and gentle as always. 

Jungkook didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly do at this point? It was really hitting him. He had done it, he truly had lost it.

His panic started getting to you as well, and you were realizing the mess you had just got yourself into. As concerned as you felt for Jungkook, you now were involved in an affair. His wife’s pictures that sat around his office felt like they were bearing into you, judging you for sleeping with her husband. How could you? Not only that, but this happened with your boss, at your job, who was fucking married.

The reason this happened in the first place was unknown, but what justification could there be for both of you? 

Jungkook tried his best to pull himself together as you both got up to begin your journey downstairs, but how could he go home now?

You both made a quick stop to the bathroom to clean yourselves up. 

You could hardly believe the sight you saw in the mirror. You finally saw the glorious mess Jungkook had made of you, your cheeks warmed at the sight the fluorescent lights granted you. You were a mess…

You tried to quickly cover up the evidence of your misdeed. You wiped your shirt and skirt so the stains wouldn’t be so noticeable, and with the brush you kept in your purse, you tried to smooth your hair down and style it so that it covered the marks across your neck. You then tried to make your clothes sit the way they did before you walked into his office earlier, tucking your top in and smoothing out your skirt.

You wiped down your face, and with a quick reapplication of your makeup, you were as good as new again— well, as new as you needed to be at nearly 1:30 in the morning.

Despite having more to do, you were left waiting outside the bathrooms on Jungkook for a little while. 

He’d walked in and the sight he saw in the mirror was equally as alluring as it was horrendous. His face was red and puffy, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. But the way your lipstick covered his face… his lips were smeared with it, just like yours had been. It was all over his cheeks, even his neck had red stains, and seeing that had him feeling funny all over again.

Jungkook was ashamed that he looked past it all, and enjoyed the way your lipstick painted his skin.

He nearly had another breakdown at the realization, and he had to give himself a pep talk to come out of the bathroom and face you again. His thoughts were quickly spiraling, and he felt himself getting jittery again. It was the same way he felt in Dr. Min’s office, the same way that would plague him occasionally, and he was stuck alone for hours trying to get himself together to face the world again. He probably would have collapsed and locked himself in the bathroom if you weren’t waiting on him.

He likely came out looking worse than he did coming in. Your lipstick was gone, but he had been stuck inside trying to wipe the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling from his eyes.

Eventually, you both made your way to the elevators.

Jungkook had offered to drive you home considering how late it was. You probably would have said no considering the situation, but you didn’t really think about how you would get home beforehand. You honestly didn’t think you’d be here this long, but you also knew Taehyung would have no issue coming to pick you up. 

He lived close by, and he’d been there many times before when the buses and subways were closed. Even at the oddest times of night, he always knew when you were out and would be there to get you. You would have called him, but considering you looked like a mess, surely Taehyung was bound to ask questions about what happened during your evening with the boss. That was the last thing you needed, keeping as few people involved as possible was the better option. Plus, he had spent the night partying, and you doubted if he was available or even sober enough to drive you.

Jungkook it was then.

Things were noticeably awkward between you two. As you both waited for the elevator, a notable distance separated you two, and a painful silence settled in the air.

“You never answered my question earlier…” Things felt different now. The further you walked from the sanctuary of his office, the more real it became. You honestly wanted nothing more than to get away from him.

The elevator dinged before the doors opened. You both stepped inside and Jungkook hit the button down to the garage. 

What could he say?

“What excuse could I give?” Jungkook sounded distraught and you started feeling bad once again. 

“I mean… I don’t mean to impose, but considering what happened… you just don’t seem fine.” You spoke sincerely, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Jungkook leaned against the elevator wall, and with the lights shining down on his face, you could clearly see the wetness staining his cheeks. 

There was a moment of silence as your statement lingered in the air, but eventually Jungkook worked up the courage to say something, anything really, he owed you that much at least. 

“It's an arranged marriage.” Jungkook's voice was still hoarse, and a tear rolled down his cheek as the words left his mouth. He really hated telling people.

You were visibly shocked at this, eyes widening as his words processed in your mind. You thought it was weird he was married, but you didn’t think arranged marriages happened anymore, especially here. Even if they did, that didn’t matter, he was still so young. 

“It’s been hard over the years… really, really hard, but that doesn’t excuse anything.” Jungkook was vague, however it was still something. 

As you both stepped out of the elevator, into the short hallway, and out the parking garage, Jungkook offered once again to get your clothes professionally cleaned or replaced if that’s what you preferred, when he still noticed the stain on your skirt under the light. 

You thanked him, but you didn’t want to be indebted to him. Instead, you said you’d handle it yourself.

Plus, now you can call it even.

It was awkward again as he pushed open the door and you both walked to his car. It was one of the only ones down here, but who else would own a Mercedes?

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t… I’m sorry…” Jungkook was lying through his teeth. He wished he wasn’t, but as bad as he felt, no one had ever made him feel that good before.

“Look.” You stopped in your tracks, making him stop with you.

“You obviously seem to be going through a lot, I get that. But Jungkook, I don't want to be involved in this.” You were serious as you spoke. 

“That’s your business. Tonight did not happen. Tomorrow we’ll come into work like none of this happened. You won’t ever need to worry about me telling anyone. This was a fluke, a mistake, something that shouldn’t have happened. I trust you’ll do the same. That’s as simple as it needs to be.” You seemed mad, and as much as you were right, Jungkook couldn’t stop the way his chest tightened at your words.

A fluke, a mistake, something that shouldn’t have happened. It hurt so much for some reason, but you were right in the end.

Jungkook just nodded, knowing he would have a breakdown if he tried to say anything. But what could he say anyway? You were right.

You both steadily made it to his car, a sleek, black, 2022 Mercedes AMG GT 53 4-door Coupe. This was his personal car, not the fancy SUV his driver would always take him around in, but whenever Jungkook worked late nights like this, he’d normally drive himself to work and give Dae-Jung the day off.

You tried not to show how impressed you were as you got in. It really was a nice car with the pretty LED lights dimly illuminating the matching black interior. Then the sound it made as he started it up, and with one hand on the wheel, he pulled out of the underground garage…

If things were different, this definitely would have easily made you fold— a good looking guy driving a sexy car was a thing you knew you had, but this was a married man who you just had an affair with.

Now was certainly not the time.

The ride was silent, aside from when Jungkook asked for your apartment’s address. What else was there to say really?

You were mad. You wanted to put all the blame on Jungkook for getting you involved with this mess, but it takes two to tango as they say. You never stopped him when he pulled you close and you didn’t want to. You were just as mad at him as you were at yourself.

You knew he was married, yet you kept going, you wanted more, and relished when he finally filled you up. And his eyes, he seemed so sad, you wanted to do anything to make him feel better. 

As Jungkook drove you home, a new look seemed to settle behind his gaze. Before he seemed like he was constantly at the point of breaking, but now it was nothingness, lifelessness, a void contained in his dark orbs. 

Were you too harsh earlier? That’s the way it had to be though, this had to be a mistake you would never acknowledge at any point going forward. But maybe there was a better way to say it. Something clearly wasn’t right, and you were still concerned at the end of the day.

The late hour offered minimal traffic so you were pulling up to your apartment building just a little over twenty minutes later.

You were quick to grab your stuff and push open the door to get out, but not without a glance at the man beside you whose hair almost entirely shielded his gaze. His hands on the steering wheel were tight and he never once looked at you. 

“Jungkook…” That gentle tone was back and he finally looked at you.

He seemed dazed almost. 

“You should probably talk to someone. You seem to be going through a lot, and even though you were vague with me, someone out there will listen to you. Not going to lie, I’m a little worried… you remind me so much of a friend who went through a lot and… It might really help talking to a professional.” You held that same look of concern you had right before he kissed you.

It was so bad, he wanted to do it again.

Jungkook felt his cheeks warm at the thought, remembering how it felt to have your lips against his.

He weakly tried to laugh it off. “You aren’t the first person who’s said that.” 

“You might really benefit from it. I suggest trying it out.” 

Jungkook nodded. The last time he attempted therapy it didn’t go so well, but then again, he had only gone twice. 

You gave him a weak smile before you swung your bag over your shoulder and started walking toward the entrance. Jungkook stayed until he made sure you made it inside, and then he was driving off. 

His head was empty as he drove down the road, no tears, no pain, no anything. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about what happened earlier, it had never felt like that before, not once had it felt like that before.

Your hands, your lips, your body, your our skirt bunched up around your waist, your thigh-highs, that lacy black bra you had on underneath, your smeared lipstick. It replayed in his head over and over again. By the time Jungkook made it home it was going on three. He was tired, his body ached, his mind spent, but there was only one thing he could focus on as he punched in the code to the door. 

He wasn’t entirely surprised when he opened the door to find the apartment, dark, empty, and he was alone, like always. Yuri had texted him right before you walked in his office that the shoot was in fact running long and she wouldn’t be home until early in the morning. It was almost a relief that she wasn’t here. He didn’t know what he would have done if she was, but the silence was painful. Silence let his mind wander off too much, and in the silence the realization of his actions hit him once again. 

Jungkook’s eyes started to blur as he looked at the pictures that were sprinkled around the apartment of the two of them. He felt terrible, but not like how he should have.

This was actually his worst nightmare, he had turned his marriage from one that could have posed as real as any other, into that fake shit his parents put up with. Jungkook had turned into the person he detested the most, and there was nothing he could do to come back from it. He should feel terrible, so fucking terrible. He should prepare to get on his knees and beg for Yuri’s forgiveness, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. He had been such a terrible husband over the years and the one thing he thought he’d never betray was the fact he was faithful and he’d always try his best to make their relationship work.

What now? Had he just given up? Jungkook wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to do worse, he wanted to make it hurt, but instead, he just sank down against the door.

All he could think about was you and how good it felt. Was it just because he was so sensitive? It really had been so long, but it had never been like that before. Never, not even in the memory he held so closely— Yuri and him in the hot tub at the Maldives. It had never felt like that.

Jungkook should feel guilty, and he did, but only because he didn’t feel bad. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, your hands, your lips, you, you, you.

Despite the fiasco in his office, the ride over with him and his stupid fucking mind that wouldn’t shut up, had his cock aching all over again. He was hard, and he wished so much you would have invited him upstairs so he could have stayed in your arms all night long. He would have said yes if you offered.

He wanted you so badly, but this wasn’t right. 

Jungkook wanted to fix this, he easily could have, the memories were vivid and he so badly wanted to feel good again. But the tears finally fell on his cheeks when he remembered Yuri and how disappointed she would be. He couldn't do that, he couldn't, he fucking couldn’t.

He was a disappointment, Yuri was right about everything. He was pathetic, his life couldn’t get any worse.

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[deanscherrypie420]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

A/N: Hi! This was third most requested on the poll! I hope you guys enjoy, it took me forever to think of a story OMG!

Characters: BAU Team, Reader Y/N

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X Reader

Warnings: Soft!Dom Aaron, description of crime scenes, antagonizing, sensitive neck area, implied smut but no actual, teasing, lots of kissing towards the end, pretty cute ending, praise kink, spitting (spits into her mouth once), getting interrupted (they were just kissing, don't worry), (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: After getting on your new boss's bad-side, you face his irritation throughout your case. When you get back, however, it seems he's a better profiler than you thought.

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It was her first official day at the Bureau. She had been training alongside a different team for a few weeks before being sent to work with the BAU.

When she entered the conference room, she was greeted by a woman in a dashingly bright outfit. "Hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, technical analyst for the BAU. You're the new agent, right?"

Y/N nodded and shook her hand, a faint smile on her lips. "Hi, yeah. I'm Y/N Y/L/N." She stated simply, pulling out a chair to sit down. Penelope stepped out of the room for a moment, calling the rest of the team in.

One by one, they all piled in. Two other women came to shake her hand and she declined, passing it off with a joke. They didn't seem to mind, sitting down beside her and engaging in small talk.

The last person to come in was an older man dressed in a nice suit, clean cut black hair and dark brown eyes. She perked up, recognizing him immediately.

SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit chief.

"Y/L/N, good to finally meet you. We've heard great things." He complimented, reaching out to shake her hand. She gave a sharp smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Thanks, unfortunately I can't say the same about you." She set her hand on top of his, gently pushing it down to decline his offer. He noticeably stiffened, and the room filled with tension. "Excuse me?" He questioned, brows knitted tight together.

"I mean, you're practically a rogue agent. You're constantly under the microscope," She shook her head with a quiet laugh, "And from what I hear, you've always been off the rails, even with a stick up your ass."

Before Aaron could respond, Garcia interrupted, getting into the grimy details of a murder in Colorado. After the brief, everyone exited the room, leaving Y/N and Hotchner in the room alone.

His hand clamped down on her shoulder, squeezing tight as he leaned in behind her. "I advise you to stay in your lane. Keep that dirty little mouth of yours shut." He whispered in her ear.

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, heat rising to her cheeks. He patted her on the back before stepping out, returning to his office to collect his to-go bag.

She stood up and grabbed her bag from beneath her, already prepared for her first day. When she made it to the jet, she claimed a seat next to the blonde woman, who she vaguely remembered as Jennifer.

"Rogue agent, huh?" The older man in front of her asked. She studied him, his fingers in a triangle shape resting on the table, grey hair blooming within his black strands.

She grinned and nodded, leaning back into her chair. "I can't repeat what I've heard?" She prodded, tapping her foot on the ground. She knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but she didn't care.

As if he read her mind, he hunched forward and reciprocated her smirk. "Not if you want to last longer than day one. You may have heard some interesting things about Aaron, but I'm sure you've also heard that he doesn't take bullshit from anyone. Especially not from beginners."

She swallowed hard, feeling everyone's eyes on her. She tried to think of a witty response, something to drag her out of the pit she was in. Her brain paused when the same hand from before ruffled her hair, a stiff smile on Aaron's face. "I'm sure it was a mistake on her part. Right, Y/N?"

She nearly choked, reaching up to fix her hair. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." She croaked out, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Rossi just shook his head and 'tsked' in disapproval.

After another quick conversation about the case, Aaron paired everyone up. "Morgan, JJ, you check out the body. Rossi, Prentiss and Reid, set up with local PD."

After not addressing her, she raised a brow. She turned to face him, an annoyed look on her features. "What about me?" She questioned, and he gave her a smug grin.

"You're with me. We'll examine the crime scene." Was all he said, turning his attention back to the file. She slumped in her chair, glaring at Morgan when she heard him chuckle.

Dammit.

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"So what do you see?" He quizzed her, motioning towards the crimson stained kitchen. She studied it for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thought.

"Rage fueled kill. Blood painted on the walls, clearly over-kill. He doesn't like authority figures, this is the third he's killed this week." She explained and he scoffed.

"You aren't projecting, are you?" He asked her, and she froze. "What do you mean?" Her fists balled up, biting her lip to withhold any rude remarks she might let slip.

"You have issues with figures of authority. You tried to embarrass me in front of my team, and the whole drive here you ignored everything I've had to tell you." He stepped closer to her, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"If I had to guess I'd assume parental issues. You have a sharp tongue, a defense mechanism to keep people at arms reach. Should I keep going?" He had a stern, yet calm look in his eyes. She bit her cheek and pondered, unsure how to respond.

"You're uncomfortable." He noted and she raised a brow. "Am not. You're not as intimidating as you think, Aaron." She snapped back, and he stepped even closer, his face mere inches away.

"I didn't say intimidated, but thank you for letting me know that's how I make you feel." He smiled down at her, making her stomach churn. She turned on her heel and hurried out, slamming the front door behind her.

He chuckled and shook his head, walking out behind her. "Where are you going?" He asked and she crossed her arms, stopping at the end of the road. "Away from you." She muttered and he stopped a few feet in front of her.

"You're acting like a child. Get in the car, now." She huffed and brushed past him, ramming her shoulder into his as she went. He had to hold back from grabbing her and slamming her onto the car.

She slid into the passenger seat, throwing her feet up on the dash and sinking her teeth into their spot in her cheek. Aaron got into the driver seat and stared at her.

"I understand this is your way of defiance, but it's not amusing. Legs down." He ordered and she unwillingly obeyed. "Sorry." She spat, sarcasm creeping in her tone.

"Being a brat isn't gonna work for you, not with me at least." He warned her and she barely nodded, glancing over at him. She didn't know why, but she kind of liked it when he talked to her like this.

However, she couldn't help but want the softer side of him too. He felt her staring as he drove to the local police department, finding it cute when he looked at he and she turned away.

"You're a lot more shy than I expected." He told her, making her look away again. "Pardon?" She croaked, heat rushing up her neck. He set his hand down on her knee and his thumb rubbed circles against it.

"Nothing, just keep your act together."

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After the case, Y/N was waiting in Aarons office. They had tension all throughout the trip, getting her in trouble and now having to have a mandatory "behavioral conversation."

When he entered the office, he closed the door quietly and turned to face her. His face was stone cold, unreadable and harsh. She bit her lip and fidgeted in her lap, picking at her nailbeds.

He sat down in front of her and cleared his throat. "Is this what you wanted?" He questioned her, catching her off guard. "I don't understand?" She responded, her tone rising at the end a bit too high for her liking.

"I'm a profiler, Y/N. It's my job to study behavior. What did you think you would get by throwing tantrums?" His words made her squirm, understanding what he was referring to.

She didn't respond, looking down at her legs and trying not to drown in humiliation. He chuckled and stood up, making his way behind her. He slowly started to knead her shoulders, earning a quiet gasp from her lips.

"I know, Sweetheart. You just want to be a good girl, yeah?" He cooed, adding more pressure and making her moan. She nodded and squeezed her thighs together. "Th-this is inappropriate." She mumbled between quiet groans and he smiled down at her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"You don't seem to care about what's appropriate or not, don't start pretending now." He whispered and she melted, her hands clawing at her knees.

His thumbs pressed into her neck, pressing nerves within and making her recoil, an unexpected moan bellowing out of her. He quirked a brow and raised one of his hands around the back of her neck.

"Well, that was interesting." He remarked before squeezing down on the pressure points, forcing her to curl up, such an intense reaction from such a little gesture.

Incoherent whimpers and whines escaped her lips, her hand buried between thighs as she tried to gain friction. He chuckled and shook his head. "Needy girl."

He jerked her head back, forcing another moan out of her. Her mouth hung open, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed. He loomed over her, spitting into her mouth.

He took his hand away from her neck and spun her chair around, crouching down in front of her with a small smile. "Swallow, pretty girl."

She obeyed, nodding mindlessly as she did. He kissed the top of her knee and then stood up, gesturing for her to do the same. He cupped her cheek and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Go to your office, get all your paperwork done, and then come meet me back here." He looked so comforting, and he felt that way too. "Okay.. I can do that." She spoke barely above a whisper, still flustered from the situation.

He smiled and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. She wanted more, but didn't say anything, just carefully pulled away and walked towards the door.

He grabbed her arm and brought her back to him, her chest flushed with his. "Use your words." He prompted her, and she bit her lip, a small smile of her own growing.

"Kiss me, please."

He leaned down and their lips met, a slow but passionate kiss. His hands slid around her waist and he crossed his wrists above her hips, bringing her impossibly closer.

Her hands cupped his cheeks and he smiled, the warm feeling of her palms making his shoulders relax.

Suddenly, Penelope and Emily barged through the door, David, JJ and Morgan not far behind them. "Dinner at Rossi's-" Penelope started in a cheery voice, but froze when she saw them.

Quickly, Y/N broke away from Hotch, her back to him as she smiled awkwardly. Emily's jaw was practically on the floor, and Garcia gasped.

"Oh my," She whispered, and Morgan glanced over her shoulder, quickly catching on to the situation. "Aaron. Hotchner. Gettin' some lovin' from the newbie is not something I expected." He teased and Y/N felt her face warming, something she was getting used to now at the BAU.

"Guys, it's not-" Aaron started but was quickly cut off by JJ. "This was not something I had on my bingo card this year." She joked as she sped away with Reid, who was quickly mumbling some facts about business hook-ups.

Following in suit, Penelope grabbed the door handle and apologized repeatedly. "Just come find us when you two are done." She said quickly as she slammed the door.

Aaron leaned down and snaked an arm around her, pulling her closer once more. "We'll catch up on this later." He said as he kissed her temple.

"Do I still have to do my paperwork?" She asked in a fake-innocent voice. "Absolutely," He said before leaving soft, bruising kisses down her neck. "But you can wait until tomorrow."

She rested her head back on his chest, breathy moans parting her lips. "That's not fair. I should get special privileges now." She pleaded and he sunk his teeth into her neck, making her gasp.

"You're a smart girl, you can do a little bit of work. I'll even reward you if you do a good job." He teased, squeezing her hip with his free hand. She giggled and moved his face up to kiss him, their lips easily melting together.

"Hurry up you two! This is Y/N's first cooking lesson!" Garcia yelled through the door. Hotch let out a quiet groan as he finally pulled away, placing a few more quick kisses all over the side of her face.

She giggled and hollered back, "We're coming!" He gave a playful tap to her ass and she waited for him to grab his coat before leaving. "I didn't expect that sleeping with my boss would make my co-workers like me so much." She joked and he raised his brows suggestively, collecting his stuff from beside the desk.

"We haven't slept together yet, but that's a great idea for dessert."

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A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! I finished this at three AM so I'm sorry if its a bit rushed or messy. This is my first Hotch fic so it took me a bit longer to get a decent idea.

Feel free to send in requests! <3 Like, comment, and follow :)

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Two- The Deal

Summary- After the disastrous bedding, the new couple tries to improve their situation.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Lots of arguing. Angst. Homegirl’s having a difficult week. Mirrors. Masturbation. Fingering. Coming in pants. Idk how else to tag that one I’m sorry. Aemond’s just helping.

Author’s Note- I promised sexier so I delivered besties. But also it’s still sad oop.

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She manages to remain hidden in her chambers for three days following the consummation. Though she doesn't go as far as barring the door, she may as well have, only allowing two maid servants into the room and no one else save her grandsire. She allows him in the morning after the wedding, knowing that he is too persistent to keep out. The pleasantries only last so long, with him informing her of Baela and Rhaena's plan to return to court in time for her coronation before he begins inquiring as to whether or not the consummation was successful. She keeps the details as vague as possible before managing to kick him out with complaints of sickness. It keeps him away, him and everyone else who could possibly want to see her. And she is glad for it. Though it is not fair, she blames Corlys for her humiliation and refuses to speak with him further until this shame dissipates, unsure as to how she will ever be able to look at anyone within that damned council without thinking of how they had all put her in this situation. How they had watched them, her, while she and Aemond had done their duty.

It is foolish, she knows, to remain upset. A thousand women have endured such a fate before her and she does not doubt a thousand have yet to bear it, but she is the queen now. Should she wish to sulk in her shame, there is no one in the realm who can pull her from her rooms now.

Or, at least, not many.

He gives her time, keeping his distance for nearly four nights, but she knew he would come to her eventually. Duty is the pillar Aemond has built his life upon and he would not allow it to go unattended for long. Though she had thought he would come to her during the day, that he would find the time in his rigorous schedule to knock on her door and berate her for her lack of attention, for attempting to skate her duty. It was so expected that she had prepared herself for it, steeling herself whenever she heard footsteps sound too close to the door.

She hadn’t expected him to come in through the passageways during the hour of ghosts, appearing in the mirror behind her as suddenly as a wraith.

She is forced to stifle a shriek when she catches sight of him, turning quickly to face him. It feels almost like having your back on a predator, the discomfort only growing when she catches the look on his face. Jaw set, lips pursed, looking around the room in disdain. It takes more effort than it should, to attempt to appear unaffected, but there is only one thought coursing through her mind now. That he is here to claim his rights, to do his husbandly duty. He had given her respite, likely longer than he had any reason to, and now he is here to begin what must be started.

The very thought makes her stomach sink, the consummation replaying in her head like a terrible dream, but she forces herself to steel her spine and appear unbothered, reprimanding him through the mirror.

"By the gods, Aemond, there is a door for a reason, you know. You cannot just sneak into my rooms like a thief in the night."

His mouth twitches at that, his irritation evident. "You are not answering your door. Nor are you leaving your chambers. I had almost begun to believe that you are ill."

"I am ill."

He simply hums, making his way toward her. She stiffens, whole body going rigid, but he does not touch her. Instead, his hand goes to the line of ornate bottles that sit below her vanity, each one lined meticulously. He picks up one of the bottles, uncorking it before holding it under his nose. It's a perfume, one that she had been gifted before the war by one of the lords vying for her affection. She had always liked it- a pretty thing that smelt of peaches and honey- and had used it sparingly, but his face remains unchanged as he pushes the cork back in and sets it back in the line.

"My mother has yet to leave me alone," he announces into the silence. She goes still again, not needing him to continue, but he pays her no heed. With his eye still locked on her, he continues. "She is determined to ensure that I understand the importance of conceiving an heir. Corlys as well, though I imagine he has come to visit you despite your illness."

It is her turn to clench her jaw, biting her tongue as she leans forward to fetch her hairbrush. "He has."

"Then you know why I've come?"

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[bonefall]

how much of Stormpaw’s demon are Maple’s curse vs just things that happen (cause in canon it’s really vague about whether Maple causes all those tragedies or has the ability to see his future for some reason)

EVERYTHING that happens in Stormpaw's Demon involves her. It's not being so dramatically renamed for nothing, she's a major driver and cause of the plot! Crookedstar's young name is in the title; but really, his demon is driving the misfortune.

That said... It's been a while and I'm heavily considering retooling the narrative.

Since I last REALLY worked on it, BB has changed in the sense that I'm a lot more willing to alter canon than I used to be. While my driving mindset used to be "telling a better version of the original story," and that IS a value I still hold... I've lost patience with the misogyny within the original work.

I've spoken at length about the way Crookedstar's Promise grinds my gears (PLEASE follow this link for a full breakdown of why), but in summary; it desperately tries to keep every male character likeable when they shouldn't be, saying nothing about the fact they are complicit in or even enabling abuse, while giving Crookedstar TWO flatly evil maternal figures. Even Brambleberry, who's heavily praised for being "like a mom instead," has a weird moment where she starts giving Crookedjaw the cold shoulder because she finds out he's chatting with a demon.

So like... I'm not sure if I want to make the "better version" of that story. That was the one that I already had, which had Mapleshade be acting entirely out of just the malice of wanting to hurt a child, while Hailstar and Shellheart are the excellent people canon wanted to see them as.

(not that it's even a BAD super edition, it's actually a really good one, but if it's my kitchen that's not what we cook here. Man I really do always massively overhaul my favorite SEs LMAO)

I think, specifically, I want to make Mapleshade slightly more morally gray and Hailstar more of an enabler. Shellheart is getting significantly retooled to make him more of the heartwarming parental figure I think he should be; someone loving to help balance out a very heavy rework.

And of course Brambleberry, I'm going to tweak her some. Try to make her flaws more consistent, get rid of that odd cold shoulder moment.

Old regulars will remember an old AU which is also still a massive favorite of mine; it was called Better Call Mapleshade, and it was kind of a commentary on how an environment can shape a person. Mapleshade, as a demon in heaven, was essentially their best prosecutor and defense attorney.

You can actually see how a lot of ideas from that AU ended up in Better Bones with the expanded trial system! I'm thinking of taking another page out of it, by making Mapleshade more aware of "the game" of Clan culture's structural unfairness, while also using it like a weapon against people she wants to hurt. A powerful demon of revenge.

Under the cut, what won't be changing, the way it was, and Draft 2 of Stormpaw's Demon.

(MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING FOR MENTAL AND PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE including ableism. BB!Rainflower is WORSE than canon.)

WHAT WON'T BE CHANGING;

These are major details of Stormpaw's Demon that are different from canon. I'm working with these as givens and won't be changing between drafts.

Mapleshade does have a bone to pick with Appledusk's lineage specifically. One option might make her more discerning when it comes to her targets, but no matter what, she is going to have her eyes on this bloodline. She Haunts Applekin.

Rainflower is Hailstar's deputy. And I will make her downfall spectacular. If you were worried I was going to make her more sympathetic then you have no idea who I am LMAO

Shellheart is not Crookedstar's biofather While I want Hailstar to maybe be worse; I do want to fix Shellheart by making him a good parent. I've decided a good way to do this is to make it that Shellheart adopts Storm AFTER he's been abused by Rainflower. He didn't have authority over him before then. In general, I do want him to have a bigger positive role in this narrative. DEPENDING ON WHICH VERSION: Oakheart might also not be his bio-brother.

Crookedjaw is not a cruel name; it's an Honor Title. I've ALWAYS been frustrated by how canon treats scars and injuries as bad things. It's a BATTLE culture. Surviving brushes with death is their WHOLE THING. There is no "crookedkit" or "crookedpaw," he was Stormpaw until he earned his warrior name, with "Crookedjaw" commending the massive lengths he's gone to in order to survive, adapt, and honor StarClan.

Mentor change: Goodbye Cedarpelt, hello Magpiesky! I decided to repurpose one of the Barn Cats! Magpie from the books is a daughter of Perchshine-- the cat who killed Mapleshade. She joined RiverClan long ago. She's actually the one who points him in the way of the barn, and has to train him "as a punishment for teaching him disobedience" when he comes back. I actually have a couple of minor reasons for making this change but I'll spare them for now. He might start with Cedarpelt, but then run to the barn when Cedarpelt is basically refusing to train him properly.

Some family tree shuffles I need to update this tree to show Crookedstar's new situation with Shellheart (and also reflect some other changes I made like confirming Hallowflight fully being Lizardtail's honor title and Robinpaw being the apprentice who gets eaten by Ripwater), BUT, overall this tree is solid.

The ableism Storm faces is going to have a different flavor I have built BB in a way where him surviving his injury would be very respected, but he'd get badly coddled and pushed into early retirement. Him running to the barn is because he suspects he wouldn't have gotten training otherwise.

He kills a fox there because it's Cool. I might give him the tail to wear as a trophy of the kill because that's also Cool. The fox was very old and feeble at that point, which was why it was attacking chickens, but shhh

The Way It Was (Very Evil Mapleshade)

Darkstar's Commandment creating the Queen's Rights, that no queen would ever have to reveal the other parent of their kittens, wasn't enough to appease Mapleshade.

Nor was the damning of everyone that Mapleshade killed. In a fit of irrational fury at all the death, StarClan sent all her victims into the Dark Forest.

But she can't chase them. In the Dark Forest, you don't see someone unless you WANT to see them, not unless you're hanging out in a "land mar" (a sort of personal hell that all demons get).

on the off-chance she does see them, Frecklewish usually rips her to shreds...

Which is the next problem.

You can't DIE in the Dark Forest if you're a demon. You poof back into existence the next day, no injuries, no scars, nothing.

she's bored.

And vengeful. In spite of the wrong being righted, she still thinks she deserves MORE revenge, because what she wanted was really Appledusk.

She finds it unfair that HER legacy is snuffed out, that it's Darkstar's Commandment and not hers, that her babies were destined for greatness and by extension SHE should have been great.

So she takes up a hobby in tormenting Appledusk's descendants. She wants to eradicate them completely, but is spiteful enough that she'll just settle with hurting them.

The first one she managed to kill was Applefrost, Reedshine's son. Just by accident. She didn't know she had such power over the mortal plane.

After that, she managed to drown Duskwater. The daughter.

But she couldn't wipe out HER daughter in that storm... and she brought two more Applekin children into the world.

Stormkit and Oakkit.

So, naturally, Mapleshade turned her sight on the little fuzzball.

He would be an easy kill, in theory. She smashed Stormkit's jaw on the rock, but Oakkit pulled him out.

From there, it's similar to canon for a bit. His recovery is long and painful.

Rainflower is disgusted, and wants absolutely no part of helping him through this process.

That wasn't an injury gained in battle-- it's because he's careless and didn't listen to her. He's going through all this suffering, and for what?

To never become a warrior?

She's cruel to him, begins to neglect and distance herself from him. Discourages him from suckling.

Mapleshade LOVES this. It's worse than she could have imagined. Rainflower is horrible.

Gleefully, she realizes that Stormkit dying now is what Rainflower wants.

So, she kills two other kits in the nursery.

Fallowtail's only survivor is Willowkit, so she has plenty of milk. She starts suckling Stormkit.

(Graypool is now an older sibling! She's actually an apprentice at this time! Later, she encourages Willowkit to visit their father, who decides to just kidnap them completely)

Eventually, being the deputy, Rainflower had some kind of conversation with Hailstar.

During that conversation, she asked him to do something very cruel to Crookedkit.

And Hailstar LOST IT

He's the successor of Volestar, who was appointed by Darkstar herself to uphold the Queen's Rights and protect children.

How DARE you try to turn RiverClan into a place of disrespect?? To use my power this way?!

So, her power was stripped, and Oakkit and Stormkit were taken from her.

From there, Storm eventually goes to the barn as discussed, and Mapleshade continues to do things to hurt him.

This was my first draft, and now having thought about it a lot, I feel like it's not super cohesive. A demonic Mapleshade who's entirely malicious is neat, but I feel like this makes her flat. Shellheart's not tied in super well either, and Hailstar's stand feels kind of hollow because Rainflower hasn't actually used or leveraged the new authority I've given her.

But most egregiously? Rainflower's abuse being so close to canon tastes kind of bland. I feel like I can make it sooo much more intense, complicated, and painful.

Draft 2 of Stormpaw's Demon (Demon of Revenge Update) Essentially an outline for the first few chapters establishing Mapleshade by dealing with Rainflower and then fragments for the rest.

Mapleshade's still malicious, but this time, there's more to it.

Darkstar's Commandment, and the damning of her victims, DID appease this Mapleshade.

But is she satisfied? No.

She doesn't feel like she was wrong at all, actually. Without her killing those three in revenge for her kittens, StarClan's anger probably would have subsided.

She can't hunt her victims down again though, because, they don't want to see her. She fights Frecklewish every now and then but what's the point?

She WON already. She already GOT the euphoria of dragging them all down with her.

Punishing everyone who had ever wronged her was the highlight of her existence... but now it's done.

She's in Hell and she's bored. Her punishment is never seeing her kits again, but more importantly, her punishment is eternal shuffling through the leaf litter when she's SO GOOD at getting revenge.

Problem with revenge is, when you get it, it's gone.

She probably messed with Duskwater and Applefrost a bit, but if she killed one of them, it was accidental. It made her realize that revenge without a motive is just boring.

The prologue would probably open up with establishing her as a character. Who she is, what she wants.

Because the first chapter would dive RIGHT IN to Stormkit. The only child of Rainflower, the deputy.

Right along with Stormkit, you only learn in hindsight that he was born in a storm that killed his grandmother. It's clear that Rainflower reminds him of this often.

And that she's nasty to him. Giving him unclear instruction and finding things to critique, telling him to jump and then barking at him that he didn't ask how high.

She has great expectations for him, and reminds him of their family lineage often. Of who killed his great-grandfather, of what a fantastic pair of warriors Applefrost and Duskwater were

"I lost everything the night you were born. You'd better be able to make up for it."

Unfortunately, Stormkit is not the sort of child who's good at listening to those sorts of orders. He's stubborn and defiant; angry and oppositional.

When he doesn't understand why you do something, he doesn't want to do it

He "embarrasses" her a lot, and gets hurt for it.

In public, these are swats and whacks. The things you're "allowed" to do to discipline your child. In private these are a lot more severe.

So when Stormkit is given an order or a command, he obeys completely out of fear rather than respect. And sometimes he forgets his fear.

The other cats in RiverClan? Well... Stormkit is a problem child, and Rainflower is a fantastic, organized, respected deputy.

Hailstar especially, unfortunately. He feels bad... for Rainflower.

"It must be so hard for her to have such a little brat as a son. He never seems to learn his lesson. When will he stop wandering off? What's wrong with him? He certainly didn't get that from her."

His best friend, Oakkit, gets in the SAME trouble he does.

He's mischievous, fearless, and outgoing, and... never gets punished for it.

There's times where Oakkit does something and Stormkit physically recoils, just imagining what Rainflower would do if HE did something like that. Especially in how Oakkit talks to his dad, Shellheart.

For example, Shellheart will come to get his son for suckling time and Oakkit will tell him to his face things like, "I don't want to! I'm HAVING FUN!"

and shellheart doesn't flip out. He just. explains why it's important to eat on time.

"I know. But Fallowtail wants to go have fun too! She's waiting for you to come and suckle so she can go play."

"Well why can't she just play now and I suckle later?"

"When a suckler is full of milk, it makes their belly very itchy. She's uncomfortable when you don't come and eat on time."

"nnnh"

"Tough sell? How about I sweeten the pile with a badger ride back?"

"Hm. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Dad."

Stormkit doesn't know why he hates it. He's all angry inside when he sees them acting friendly. He's polite because Oakkit's his best friend and Mr. Shellheart is really nice, but he just...

He's too young at the time to know he's envious. He wants what Oakkit has so badly it hurts.

Sometime after an exchange like that, Stormkit is visited by Mapleshade for the first time.

And they talk about Stormkit's anger and resentment. Stormkit lets it slip that he HATES his Mi.

Waits for Mapleshade to stop him and tell him, like everyone else does, that "she's still your mother."

...but she doesn't.

Besides Oakkit and Shellheart, she's the first person who doesn't tell him that.

She just lets him talk. Lets him go on. Starts making nasty jabs, which make him laugh.

"She says she lost everything the day I was born!!"

"What?! That's crazy! She got you that day!"

"Right?! It's like she's saying I'm nothing! Maybe she SHOULD lose everything, then she'd know what she's got!"

And then she asks, "Do you want her to die?"

Suddenly, there's a chill in the air. He's really shocked by the suggestion of that. He didn't... he didn't mean it to go THAT far. That's not what he meant... is it?

But she's fading back into the shadows, just her eyes visible in the dark. Tells him that she can see he's unsure. That's ok.

Holds up a budding sprig of sycamore, the maple she's named for. Its buds grow in a "deer hoof," with one large bud in the middle and two "toes" sprouting on its sides.

Teaches him that if he needs someone in his corner, all he has to do is call.

(to summon her, a bud is plucked off the sprig and thrown in the river.)

He wakes up with the sprig in his paw, panics, and shoves it under the nest he shares with his mother.

The experience shakes him. He probably ran to Brambleberry for the first time, who explains very seriously that he was contacted by a demon.

From the description... Mapleshade. The cat who killed his great-grandfather.

He BEGS her not to tell Rainflower. PLEADS with her. He can barely hear her already saying yes under the throbbing sound of his heart in his ears.

When he calms down, he hears her saying yes. On the condition she will need to smoke the nursery with sage and cedar, and that he will be needing a bath as well.

When he's still concerned that Rainflower will question him, she makes a plan to distract her for a day, long enough for him to do his cleanse and the smell to fade.

And, of course, that he will not follow any instructions that Mapleshade left him. He agrees. But does not tell Brambleberry about the sprig.

For a while he's very "well behaved." But it's not about him, never has been.

It really doesn't take long at all for Rainflower to get worse. Kids who are defiant like that are usually exercising a defense mechanism-- if they're not aggressive about their boundaries, their limits are pushed to a breaking point.

And after a big blowout like this, which was probably a public spectacle, Stormkit runs back to his nest and digs out the sprig, runs to the river, and throws a bud in the river.

Having calmed down from his shuddering fury, the dread begins to set in as a dead-smelling wind ruffles his fur. He can't help but feel like he just did something very stupid out of anger.

Looking at his reflection, he sees no cuts or swelling. The blows weren't "bad enough." He doesn't have the kind of injuries that anyone would do anything about. Equal parts guilt and frustration swell in him like a tide at full moon. How could he be sitting here wishing she hurt him worse?

So he tries to soften it, "I don't want her to die, I just, I... I just want her to lose everything like she says. Please..."

The wind whispers in his ear, "it will get worse before it gets better."

"I can handle that," he sobs, "I can do anything. Please. Make it stop."

After that, Oakkit probably runs to come find him. Stormkit doesn't want to be found. He makes up a childish plan, on the spot, to run away and join ThunderClan.

Oak says that's mousebrained, but Storm has DEVOTED himself to this plan he made just now.

And is crossing the stones.

Oak sighs, but if Storm's going to ThunderClan, he should really go with him because then they could totally fight off a small fox (Childish hubris)

Unfortunately, Rainflower found them. asks Exactly What He's Doing.

The kids freeze. Stormkit in particular has that horrible, twisting anxiety that you get when you hear The Tone that means you're in for an absolute wallop when you get home.

He's about to start running, but then the voice tickles his ear-fur again. Mapleshade tells him to go back. It'll be ok. She's on his side. She'll make her pay.

Oakkit is still frozen in place when, as if possessed, Storm's body stiffly returns to his mother.

There's a silence. The river trickling through the stepping stones. Storm looking with fear and anger up at her.

She's waiting for an apology, groveling. He doesn't give her one.

So she raises her paw and gives him an awful, hard blow.

His little body twists, flung off balance, trying to correct himself, and he can swear he felt paws pushing him a second time, whipping him downwards.

The feeling of falling fills his stomach, the water sloshes into his ears before there's a ring of a sound like CLUNK-CRUNCH, and then the river floods his nose and mouth.

It all goes dark.

When he wakes up, it's with a throbbing pain in the side of his jaw so intense that he can feel it all the way down in the tip of his tail. He learns from Brambleberry that Oakkit rescued him-- jumped right into the water to pull him out. And then Rainflower pulled him out. That was when Shellheart came and found them.

There's a LOT of arguing outside, but Storm can't ask what it is because it hurts to move his mouth at all. Brambleberry hushes and soothes him, telling him it's nothing he needs to know about.

(MEDICAL INFODUMPING: i do actually have a medical reason I want his injury to come from someone hitting him which causes him to fall. The injury he'd get in canon would actually be a really simple and common split in the front of the mandible, which wouldn't cause his mouth to have a dramatic twist and would heal very easily. He needs to come down on the rock at an angle to shatter the joint like that.)

From here, the tune about Stormkit starts to change.

Oakkit was distraught when they got back, telling everyone that Rainflower smashed him against a rock.

Rainflower's story is that he was running, and she chased after him. EVERYONE knows that he has a habit of doing this.

Then HE slipped and fell and hit his face on the rocks. His fault.

Oakkit was running away with him, he's lying.

Shellheart is FEROCIOUSLY taking the side of his son, furious that she would imply he raised a liar.

Hailstar is taking the side of Rainflower. It's two troublemaking kits against his deputy.

Yes, Rainflower's disciplined him before, but that's no indication she'd do something like this on purpose.

Brambleberry weighs in that the injury that Stormkit has isn't the sort of injury a kitten gets from hitting his jaw. The bone is shattered.

probably does some kind of visual to go along with it, using a stick and a stone

"The bones of a kitten are like the young shoots of a tree. When they fracture," she takes a young twig and snaps it in her paws. The fibers in the center are bent but unbroken, with the bark splintered around them, "they flay but don't snap."

She places the stick on the ground, "So for the injury that Stormkit has," and violently smashes the rock down onto it. It's shattered and pulped, the fibers flattened, "there would need to be a great force."

Shellheart hisses, saying that THIS is the evidence. Oakkit's story is consistent but Rainflower HAS to have lied.

Several cats are now on his side.

...But more are on Rainflower's.

"She's his mother. She loves him. Oakkit has to be mistaken."

"Why would she chase down her own son just to smash his face on a stone?"

"She wouldn't pull them out of the river if she really wanted to hurt him!"

Hailstar prompts if there's ANYTHING else that could explain this?

It comes up that Brambleberry cleansed the dens the other day.

She says that it's possible there is a demon's influence at work. She can't know for sure which one it is-- but it may have a grudge against Rainflower.

She allows them to reach the conclusion that it's probably Mapleshade on their own. She will be talking to Crookedkit when he's able, but she's not about to tell anyone about his dream yet.

She doesn't want him to have the extra scrutiny when he needs to rest and heal, but if she'd shared that an unnamed cat had a demonic dream, it would set off panic as cats accused each other of dark magic.

Rainflower manages to escape consequences by pointing out that it was likely Mapleshade that injured her son.

Oakkit is still trying to tell everyone SHE did it, he SAW it, Stormkit walked back and she hit him and smashed his jaw on the rock

But he's hushed. It's decided there's not enough evidence. And not enough reason to doubt the noble deputy.

She's never done something like this before, after all. It's more likely it was an accident.

There is a group of cats that are dissatisfied about this, though, and it only grows when Brambleberry explains that Stormkit's prognosis is not good.

There is a very high chance he will die. Even adult warriors can wither slowly from this sort of injury.

Recovery will be slow and it will be painful.

...but after that incident? Rainflower gets bolder. She got away with it in public. She got a taste of the leverage she has, how much they trust her.

Stormkit spends a lot of time floating in between his dreams and his living-world pain. There's at least one interaction where he speaks to Mapleshade, screaming at her that he TRUSTED her, he KNOWS she's the one who hurt him! How could she?!

She can't say much, kept at bay by a hazy smokescreen of sage. "You must live! You must survive!"

Her old words echo in his head; It Will Get Worse Before It Gets Better.

Throughout the recovery, Rainflower grows more cruel and more distant.

In public she likes to talk about how difficult this is for her, but he's strong, he will survive.

In private, she'll do things that hurt him, like repositioning his head in a way that "his jaw will heal better in." When he cries, she's unsympathetic.

"You brought this on yourself. This is for your own good."

Her definition of "private" is also changing. She's getting more comfortable with snapping at him in front of limited groups of people.

Since she's deputy, the other two parents in the nursery, Shellheart and Fallowtail, do their best to care for Stormkit while she's away. He's pulled away from them when she gets back, any ideas or suggestions they have vetoed.

When they try to go to Brambleberry about this, she shakes her head with frustration and tries to make them understand she knows... and she's just as unhappy with it as they are.

She tells them she keeps going to Hailstar, but he's still hesitant. Even though she's trying to tell him that Stormkit's recovery is being undermined.

"Rainflower's son has always needed tough love. She's his Mi and knows him best... she's still taking care of him. Give her a warning before suggesting anything drastic."

In the other draft, I had Mapleshade kill two of Fallowtail's kits to free up milk for Stormkit. I'm not sure I need that anymore honestly, plus, this rework's heavy enough! She can just have Willowkit without any deaths, while Graypaw remains an older sibling.

When Brambleberry informs Rainflower and Stormkit that the jaw isn't healing straight and it will probably be at an angle forever, Rainflower reacts with disdain.

"His first scar and it's nothing he earned?!"

She's reminded he might not even survive. He's lost weight. He's eating less. Stormkit curls up quietly. He hates how they talk about him like he can't hear them.

"Surviving is the bare minimum," she scoffs reflexively. There's a silence so thick you can cut it with a claw. After an uncomfortable heartbeat, she continues, "What kind of a life will he live if he-"

"a life," Brambleberry cuts in, "he'd live a life. And it can be a good one"

Rainflower growls, spitting that the twisted jaw is a disfigurement. He'll never be able to open his mouth all the way. He can't chew and he can't suckle forever. Stormkit will never become a warrior if he can't even dispatch a fish with a killing bite.

"Scars are the sign that StarClan has mended our bodies after fighting a good fight, making any Clanborn cat worthy of being an elder" Brambleberry preaches, "Names are what mark us, calling upon our ancestors to look down at us and witness our actions, Rainflower. Don't say anything you wouldn't want them to see."

Rainflower flicks her ear, seething, a rumble in her throat, "was that some kind of threat? As if I've said something wrong?"

"If you feel threatened, look within."

Stormkit resents all of this talk. He can feel his mother tensing up next to him, hears the low rumble progressing into a growl. When adults play stupid games with his mom, he's always the one who ends up dealing it. Why don't they get that?

It's only Shellheart who seems to have it click, "Hey, this is the nursery. Can you take it outside, please?"

As Brambleberry and Rainflower leave, Stormkit lays curled up in his nest, cold and alone. Oakkit leaves Shellheart's paws to curl up around his best friend.

Shellheart stares at them, shifting, but ultimately stays where he is.

There's a lot of words I could write there, between Storm and Oak. Ones where Storm speaks about how he just wants the pain to be done with. Others where Oak comforts him, tells him how much he means to him. More where they end up running into the wall that they're just two little kids and they've both learned the truth that they have no control over what happens when Rainflower comes back into that den.

But I think it would be good to end there, at the lowest point. Because it gets better.

Pissed off by being gently confronted, after her warning from Brambleberry, this is the moment where Rainflower goes too far.

Hailstar is gradually losing his patience. Every time this issue comes up, he's making some kind of new excuse for her.

She's still a competent deputy who holds the Clan together, but this has taken a toll on her reputation.

Her biggest mistake was becoming more open with her abuse after being emboldened. And I think Hailstar is beginning to feel like he's got "egg on his face."

After standing up for Rainflower several times, getting heat from Brambleberry, and now the Clan also starting to murmur...

It's getting very difficult to justify why he's sticking his neck out.

and maybe, part of him is starting to feel a little self-conscious about the way that his deputy is acting about her injured child.

When she comes storming up on this fateful day, interrupting whatever he was doing to make a proposition, it's the breaking point.

Her suggestion: "I've realized that there's only one way to ensure my son survives his injury. He's being haunted by our demon, which only started threatening him when he disobeyed me for the last time. WE need to teach him a lesson, and make sure StarClan gazes down upon him to acknowledge his mistakes."

"...how do you intend to do that?"

"Stormkit must be given a Dishonor Title."

A Dishonor Title, one of the greatest shames that a leader can put onto one of their warriors. A punishment that ranks just below exile in terms of severity.

"you want to put a dishonor title... on your child? one with a life-threatening injury?"

"One that acknowledges his carelessness. To protect him from the demon."

Protect him from the demon. "I see now what must be done."

Previously, I'd thought of Hailstar as someone who would be loud and merciless when he does this. Now I'm thinking it was something he put a lot of thought into. He stands up, brushes past her, and goes to talk to some of his most trusted cats. Brambleberry, his mate Echomist, an experienced warrior such as Piketooth or Ottersplash, and lastly, Shellheart.

So it's not a surprise to anyone but Rainflower herself. He doesn't want this to be dramatic. He doesn't want it to be another big scene. Stormkit has gone through enough.

When he eventually has this Clan meeting, he calls it quietly. In his address to the gathered cats, a crowd that Shellheart and his family are missing from at his request, he says that his greatest regret is that he didn't do this sooner. He even doubts that Mapleshade is haunting her at all-- now having seen her behavior, he says it's more likely that Rainflower bashed her own child against a rock and simply lied.

First, he announces that Stormkit will be removed from her care. He will no longer be of the Applekin bloodline.

She is banned from the nursery at the request of Fallowtail, and will only see Stormkit when supervised by his new Mi, Shellheart.

Brambleberry has already agreed to this necessity, and is performing a ritual so that StarClan may approve of this choice.

He also strips her of her deputyship, and appoints Ottersplash instead. (I might change this to a different deputy eventually)

Not everyone agrees with Hailstar. There's an uproar from Rainflower's supporters.

She was a VERY popular deputy.

More that are just uneasy, feeling that this was a BRUTAL punishment that she didn't deserve.

Lots are happy and optimistic, though. But the mixed reception is exactly why Hailstar asked Shellheart not to be here.

This isn't something Stormkit has to deal with right now.

When Darkstar herself, who created the Queen's Rights, was on her last life, she appointed Volestar to uphold the law as her legacy knowing that Oakstar might try to break it again.

Volestar appointed Hailstar, in the hopes that he would uphold her legacy in turn, to protect kittens and those who can't protect themselves.

He was late, and can only hope he was not too late. He hopes that Volestar can forgive him for that.

Meanwhile in the nursery, Shellheart, Oakkit, and Stormkit are alone, far in the back, where the padded moss keeps out arguing voices.

Oakkit, bless his little heart, is babbling with excitement because his best friend is his BROTHER now. And it's gonna be THE BEST.

He's talking about how it's fine he can't chew because now they can have soup, and they're going to make the nest bigger, and they can stay up later because they can whisper quieter if they're this close together

But Storm doesn't really hear him. His head's swimming, thinking about the dull ache in his jaw, how MAD his mom's going to be because he can't imagine her not finding a way to hurt him, how this is all his fault because he called Mapleshade.

He can't stop it anymore and starts sniffling, which turns into weeping. Still, he's TRYING not to bawl, knowing, knowing he looks stupid when he does that

Shellheart just pulls him in close, so he can bury his face in his fluffy chest. Tells him it's going to be ok. He's safe now. No one can hurt him there.

Not on his watch.

Unfortunately, it's not the last he sees of Mapleshade. After this...

Mapleshade shows him everything she did for him. Yes, she did smash his jaw-- but it was to get him away from his mother.

And she planted an idea here and there, just little whispers into Rainflower's ear. Nothing she wouldn't do all on her own.

And now... Mapleshade believes she's earned some respect.

Stormkit can't disagree... she did exactly what she told him she'd do.

And now that he's not Applekin anymore, they can be Real Friends. They could even strike up a partnership, of sorts. After all, what did StarClan do to help him?

It wasn't StarClan that answered his prayers.

I'm still figuring out what, exactly, she's going to want from him. I have a scintilla that she wants to give him a life, maybe as some kind of bridge to StarClan to see her kits?

Some strange "attempt" at redemption, perhaps? Which she ultimately doesn't get.

Not that she didn't enjoy doing all that for love of the game, mind you. She's very good at getting revenge and it's fun and exciting to pull it off.

But hey, if you're good at something, never do it for free.

What causes Mapleshade to ultimately turn, and begin haunting the bloodline again + Oakheart, is Crookedstar rejecting her in some way.

She comes to collect on her end of the bargain and he refuses, breaking their partnership. He chooses StarClan.

And then from there, it's ON again. Now she has another EXCUSE to do what she wanted to do, and take out her boredom and malice on his family.

This time, it includes Oakheart as well-- because he was Crookedstar's brother.

It was also her curse that harmed Willowbreeze and eventually Silverstream. She's on the warpath.

Maybe she actually helped make him leader on purpose. Like he explicitly asked so she helped him by making the squirrel omen, instead of just doing it for him unprompted. Still figuring it out.

Shortly after the scene where Stormkit cries, he needs to have a confrontation with Brambleberry about Mapleshade I think. She needs to explain why Dark Forest demons are seen as bad.

She's biased, of course, but it's not like she's TOTALLY wrong either. Cats like Mapleshade ARE vengeful, in ways many other spirits are not.

If you're curious, Crookedstar's dishonor title from Rainflower would have been something comparing him to a parasite and referencing his ""accident"" like Fleaskip or Midgefall.

The point she's trying to make with the Dishonor Title is that her son is an annoying bug who didn't listen, as well as subtly erase she fact she knocked him off that rock.

She wanted his name to say "everything that happened was my fault and my mom did nothing wrong"

Not that Hailstar got as far as even asking lmao

[grandline-fics]

Ohhhh i really really really like your writing, it’s so very good!! Could i request some fluff with zoro? I was thinking about the reader being an artist, and he finds her sketchbook and is impressed by her art, and then he finds drawings of the crew and him. Or something like that, you can definitely change the idea. Thank you very much, i hope you have a good day/night!

DESCRIPTION: You’re an artist and he asks to see your sketchbook

WARNINGS:  none

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 680

A/N: Thank you for the request! I've been feeling a bit of writer's block creeping up but hopefully you like what I came up with.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

“You’re going to hurt your back if you keep hunching over like that.” Zoro told you as he looked over his shoulder to fix you with a meaningful look, amused to see you snap out of your trance to look up in surprise. It didn’t matter how many times he reminded you to sit up properly, you still ended up in this kind of position when you were intensely set on drawing in the sketchbook that was rarely far from your reach. He didn’t miss how your hand instinctively curled over the pages currently being worked on, protecting them from view but also using practiced care to avoid smudging the drawings. 

Zoro couldn’t help but note you were more protective of your sketchbook around him than you would be with the rest of the crew. Yes, you still would shield it initially from view but if asked you would reveal what you were currently working on. With him? You never showed it unless it was finished products on a canvas. Silently he wondered why he was different. Though he supposed he wasn’t one to ask outright compared to the likes of Luffy who was impulsive and excitable, Sanji, who gushed over the slightest thing, and even Robin who was naturally curious about art and anything intellectual. Compared to them, Zoro never felt the need to ask even when he did want to see your talent. “Can I see?” he asked.

You tensed in surprise and quickly let your gaze flicker to the sketchbook and back to his face. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to see, it was just you weren’t sure how he would react. Hesitantly you pulled your hand away and let the pages be revealed to him. Zoro stepped closer and lifted the book into his hands, he’d seen how you held it enough times to know the proper way to treat it without ruining any of your hard work. Slowly he started at the beginning, taking in scenes you’d drawn from previous adventures on different islands. 

Some pages held detailed studies of plants and landscapes, each bringing out a memory for him, whether it of a vague feeling of relaxation or a stronger emotion as he recalled the hard won fights they’d engaged on. Most of the pages however he knew had been taken from some place on the Sunny, the focus being some, if not all of the crew. It didn’t take him long to notice that he seemed to feature more heavily than the others. He would be lying if he didn’t feel some sort of satisfaction at that. 

For the first time since you’d let him look at the very thing you were most precious about he lifted his gaze to see you were purposely looking away from him. “It’s not like you to be insecure, you’re talented. Why are you so nervous?” He asked, pretending to be oblivious. Part of him hoped you’d give him an answer he’d been hoping on. Zoro watched you lightly chew on your bottom lip as you tried to form an answer. Finally you cleared your throat.

“I’m not insecure about my skill…” You began simply, slowly building the nerve to look at the swordsman while also trying to stop the growing blush on your face. “It’s just I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you or anything, I know I’ve drawn you a lot.”

“You have?” Zoro couldn’t help the teasing tone creeping into his voice as he looked down at one page in particular that was a study of him training with his swords. “Hadn’t noticed.”

”Oh shut up!” You grumbled lightly, taking the sketchbook back into your hold. “It’s not my fault I can only draw things that interest me. It’s just how I am.” Quickly you clamped your mouth shut, the blush burning on your skin stronger now as Zoro grinned down at you, looking even more pleased with himself. He only wished he’d asked to see your sketchbook sooner had he known this was what he was going to get.