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alygator77 · 2 months

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 3 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) » 【note, this chapter contains explicit sexual content (m masturbation)】

ꨄ words: 13.3k

ꨄ a/n. oh wowie, here it is. i hope ya'll enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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ch 3 // fractured realities

Streams of light filter in through the drapes of your bedroom, casting a soft glow across the room.

A groan escapes your lips as you feel a dull throb on your temple—a reminder of the countless glasses of wine and champagne you indulged in at the gala. But as fragmented images of the evening flood your mind, your headache doesn’t end there.

You kissed Satoru Gojo.

Correction—you kissed the hell out of Satoru Gojo.

Each detail is more vivid than the last—the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his hold, the taste of him, and his soft groan that you swallowed against your lips.

God, it felt too real, too intense.

You sit up in your bed, rubbing your temples as you try to shake off the lingering effects of last night’s revelry, but you can’t ignore the fluttering sensation that stirs within—your cheeks growing hot from the memory.

Ugh. Being hungover and flushed is not a combination you enjoy.

When did Satoru start having such an intense effect on you?

You want to blame it on a lapse of judgement—perhaps the alcohol lowered your inhibitions? Sure, let’s go with that. That feels better than admitting that maybe you secretly wanted to kiss Satoru Gojo.

He’s insufferable after all—you can’t stand him…right?

Fuck, this is confusing.

Why does it feel like there has been a subtle tension between you and Satoru that has been simmering beneath the surface for a while now, each interaction, each glance, adding fuel to the fire?

Every shared look carries an unspoken promise, every touch lingers a fraction too long, leaving your skin tingling and your heart racing. It’s as if you’re both walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of something profoundly transformative.

Are you imagining things?

Silently cursing yourself, you know these thoughts you’re having will only make things more complicated. This is simply a contract—nothing more.

Transactional. Business.

With a deep sigh, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, hoping to shake off these intrusive throughs with a stretch of your muscles.

If only it were that simple.

Perhaps a shower will help clear your mind—a chance to cleanse yourself from the remnants of last night’s indulgences.

Shuffling towards the bathroom, a yawn escapes your mouth as you rub your eyes tiredly, reaching for the door. But the moment you open it, you freeze in your tracks.

With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, Satoru stands outside the shower, droplets of water glistening on his bare chest, each bead tracing the defined lines of his muscles. You can’t help but notice the way the water trails down his torso, accentuating every ridge and curve. It’s as if he’s been sculpted from marble, each detail painstakingly crafted to perfection.

For a moment, neither of you move—a stunned silence filling the room as your eyes lock.

His damp hair sticks to his forehead in an almost boyish manner, contrasting sharply with his otherwise commanding presence, and your eyes trail downwards…

Oh.

The smooth contours of his abs carve a path down towards the towel hanging precariously low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination.

Your heart races, and you feel a blush rushing to your cheeks. Your eyes flicker back up to Satoru’s and fuck, he caught you—eyes twinkling with amusement as his lips slowly curl into a self-satisfied grin.

“Good morning to you too. Enjoying the view?”

The heat in your cheeks intensifies as your eyes widen, blinking rapidly, trying to snap yourself out of your daze.

“I... I didn’t realize you were in here,” you stammer, voice higher than usual.

Satoru’s smirk widens as he reaches for an extra towel, rubbing it against his head to dry his hair. He then drapes the towel across his shoulders and meets your gaze with an alluring glint.

“Well, if you wanted to see more, you only had to ask.”

Pressing your lips together in protest, you try to regain some semblance of composure. Satoru had always teased you—don’t take it too seriously, you tell yourself.

Clearing your throat, you advert your gaze, though the crimson hue still remains on your cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It was an accident—besides, you’re the one who forgot to lock the door.”

Satoru lets out a contemplative hum, feigning innocence as he walks towards the sink.

“Guess I’m not used to sharing a bathroom,” he leans against the counter and crosses his arms, eyes surveying you with a mischievous glint, “You’re to blame too though, could’ve at least knocked. Unless, you were hoping to join me?” he grins.

Your eyes widen, and you can feel the blush creeping up your neck.

“In your dreams, Satoru.”

A low chuckle escapes him as his stare bores into you—oh how he lives for this. Satoru’s always loved seeing you flustered, but this? This is something else entirely, a new level of satisfaction he hadn’t anticipated.

“Sure, sure,” he pauses, then tilts his head to the side. “But you’re still standing there, aren’t you?”

You swallow hard, eyes flickering between his face and his chest, unable to decide where to look. His satisfaction grows with every falter in your gaze, his knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Each glance is a step deeper into a trap of your own making, an unspoken admission that he holds more sway over you than you care to admit.

“Just... put some clothes on, please. And yes, I’m standing here because I’d like to take a shower. Aren’t you done? Why are you still here.”

“Oh sure, I’m done. You can shower, but aren’t you gonna return the favor? Do I get a show too?”

Your breath catches in your throat at his boldness, the heat in your cheeks spreading down your neck. The intensity of his gaze pins you in place, a silent challenge that sends a shiver through your body.

“Not a chance,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “This isn’t some kind of peep show.”

Satoru gives you an annoyingly innocent pout, rubbing his neck with a sly grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Tch. Too bad. Would’ve been a great way to start the morning.”

You roll your eyes, pushing past him to get to the shower.

“Out,” you command, pointing towards the door.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling as he walks out.

“Alright, alright. Enjoy your shower, princess.”

You lock the door firmly behind him—heart pounding and your thoughts in disarray. As you step into the shower and the warm water cascades over you, you can’t help but replay the scene in your mind, each word and gesture etched vividly in your memory.

He’s just teasing—you remind yourself as you try to push away the fluttering feeling in your chest. Don’t take his words seriously, your relationship is a charade.

You close your eyes, letting the water wash over you, but the confusion remains.

Fuck. This is getting complicated.

ꨄ︎

The moment you close the door firmly behind him, Satoru leans against it for a moment, his smirk fading into a more contemplative expression.

He runs a hand through his hair—the sight of you, wide-eyed and blushing, had done more to him than he cared to admit. Exhaling slowly, he realizes that he’s in deeper than he thought.

As his thoughts drift back to the kiss you had shared at the gala, a familiar heat pools in his lower abdomen. The way your lips had felt against his—soft and inviting—the memory of your taste, the way you fit so perfectly against him…fuck. It stirs something primal within him.

He can’t deny the growing attraction he feels. After seeing you there with your cheeks flushed and your eyes surveying him, he had wanted to pull you closer, to see if your lips were as warm and inviting as he remembered.

Satoru groans as he adjusts his towel, feeling the fabric brush against his growing erection, trying to focus on anything other than the way you looked at him—the way the framework of your sleepwear accentuated your curves, the indent of your nipples peeking through the thin satin of your tank top. God, his desire only intensifies.

The contract was clear—no emotional entanglements. Yet here he was, aroused as his mind is consumed by you. He can’t help but wonder…what would it be like to explore this connection further, to let go, to give in to his curiosity completely.

Would it be so bad to just…fantasize?

He hears the shower turn on from behind the closed door—God, he can just imagine what it would be like to slide his hands all over your bare body.

Reaching down, he unwraps the towel from his waist, his cock slamming against his abdomen as it springs free from confinement. He curses under his breath; this wasn’t supposed to happen. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like this, but he can’t help but reach down and grip the base of his girth—he needs this, he wants this.

He needs you.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he begins to stroke himself, his hand moving slowly as he traces a familiar path over his length. There's a dull thud as Satoru's head hits the door, his eyes fluttering shut as he gives in to his imagination.

He can picture it vividly in his mind, the way the water would slide over your body, the way you'd respond to his touch... fuck, he can practically hear the little gasps and moans that would escape your lips as he touches you, the sounds that would drive him wild.

He bites his bottom lip, his hand moving slowly, trying to be as silent as possible. The thought of you, just on the other side of the door, excites him even more.

His breath comes out in short gasps as he imagines you, wet and wanting under the spray of the shower. The way your body would arch beneath his touch as he slides his digits between your warm walls. The water would run in rivulets down your body and you’d shiver under his touch, whispering his name, begging for more.

His breathing grows heavier as he speeds up his pace, envisioning you on your knees before him, your head bowed in submission, wet and flushed, looking up at him with a half-lidded desire in your eyes.

He wants you so desperately it's painfully evident in every movement—it’s almost too much to bear.

Your name slips from his lips – a desperate plea rather than a simple invocation. Fuck, it feels so good to have your name rolling off his tongue as he does something so indecent.

He can almost feel your hot, wet tongue swirling around his sensitive head, tasting him, savoring him. His free hand trails down to cup his balls, rolling them gently between his fingers as he pumps faster, just as you would while you take every inch of him in your pretty little mouth.

“Fuck…” he hisses through clenched teeth, his pace quickening as he chases the release he so desperately craves.

He shouldn’t be doing this, especially not right outside the bathroom door. But in this moment, he can't bring himself to care. Nothing else matters but you.

He pictures himself taking you right there, pushing you against the tiled wall, claiming your mouth in a fierce kiss as he thrusts himself deep inside you. The image of you quivering in pleasure drives Satoru further into madness. His strokes become erratic, desperate.

Satoru's entire body tenses, muscles coiling tight as he throws his head back. A desperate whine slips past his clenched teeth “Fuck…I’m gonna…”

His hips jerk erratically, pumping his cock in time with the spasms wracking his body. He whimpers as spurt after spurt of hot cum coats his stomach and chest, the sticky fluid painting his skin with evidence of his forbidden desires. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, each syllable punctuated by another forceful stroke as his hand continues to move, milking every last drop.

Panting heavily, he slumps against the door, his heart pounding in his chest while his spent cock twitches with residual pleasure. As he slowly comes back to reality, he realizes what he's done.

This wasn't supposed to happen—he was meant to tease you, not end up teasing himself. But there was no denying the effect you had on him anymore.

Fuck.

What the fuck is he thinking? This can’t happen again.

He needs to take another shower.

ꨄ︎

Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a fluffy towel around your body as the warm steam curls around you. You begin to head back to your room, but the moment you open the bathroom door, you are caught off guard, immediately met by one of the house staff, holding out a freshly laundered robe.

“Good morning, ma’am. Your robe.”

“Thank you,” you hesitate slightly, trying to offer a polite smile.

Taking the robe, you begin to make your way to the walk-in closet, yet another staff member is waiting with a selection of outfits.

"I've picked out a few choices for today's events, Mrs. Gojo."

You take a deep breath, "Thanks, I'll take a look."

It’s barely morning and you already have staff at your beck and call—sure, they mean well, but it’s suffocating. You’re not one for a lot of attention.

As the staff member steps aside, you examine the array of outfits.

Your eyes scan the elegant dresses, tailored suits, and chic ensembles neatly arranged on hangers. It’s not quite as elegant as the gala, but it’s clear that Satoru must have something important planned for the day. Each outfit exudes sophistication and class, far more extravagant than your usual attire.

As you run your fingers over the fabric of a particularly stunning dress, a ball of nerves settles within you. The thrill of wondering what Satoru has in store is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You select the dress, hoping it aligns with whatever he has planned.

After slipping into the elegant dress, you make your way to your vanity. But just as your fingers curl around the handle of your hairbrush, a maid materializes at your side, yet again.

"Good morning, ma'am. Can I assist you with your hair today?"

Is a moment to yourself too much to ask?

Your headache from last night’s wine lingers, and the incessant stream of people is beginning to fray your nerves—it’s really too much.

Offering another polite smile, you try to mask the mild irritation simmering beneath.

"No, thank you. I can manage.”

The maid nods and steps back, only for another staff member to glide in right behind her, almost as if choreographed.

This one carries a gleaming silver tray adorned with an array of high-end skincare products, each bottle and jar meticulously arranged, their labels promising luxury and perfection.

"Your skincare routine, ma'am."

You close your eyes momentarily, trying to remain patient, your voice as calm as you can manage.

"I appreciate it, really, but I have my own products."

The staff member hesitates, her expression a mix of confusion and professionalism.

"Of course, ma'am," she replies, inclining her head respectfully before retreating.

As the door closes behind her, you release a long, weary sigh. The constant attention is smothering, and you long for the simplicity of your old life.

Those quiet mornings, the sweet solitary moments where you could just… be – without the pressure of performing or living up to impossible standards.

But like it or not, this is your reality now. Guess you’ll just need to find a way to navigate it without losing yourself in the process.

ꨄ︎

By the time you make it downstairs, Haru is already seated at the elegant dining table, her small hands fiddling with her silverware. Satoru sits at the head of the table, reading through some documents.

The table is laden with a lavish breakfast spread—perfectly arranged fruits, pastries, and an assortment of gourmet dishes. The scent threatens to overwhelm you as the lingering effects of last night’s indulgence in wine and champagne churn in your stomach.

"Good morning," Satoru says, glancing up with a grin, looking annoyingly refreshed.

Rubbing the temple of your head, you attempt a tired smile.

“Morning.”

Satoru watches you with amusement as you slide into your seat. The rich aroma of the elaborate breakfast instantly greets your nostrils, prompting a groan to escape your lips.

"How are you feeling?" he quirks a brow.

"Like I drank half the wine cellar," you grimace.

Satoru leans back in his chair, his grin widening, and Haru giggles, watching you with wide curious eyes as you bury your face in your hands.

“Mama sleepy,” she declares with the wisdom of a two-year-old.

“Yes, Haru…Mama is very sleepy,” you mutter, peaking at her through your fingers. Despite the hangover, that innocent laugh brings a small smile to your face.

Satoru chuckles, setting his documents aside as he reaches for his mug.

"You should’ve stuck to the champagne, lightweight," he teases, bringing his coffee up to his lips.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare.

"Not helping."

A chef sets down a plate of perfectly arranged eggs benedict directly in front of you with a flourish, each element meticulously placed. The aroma wafts up and you instinctively push the plate away.

"Actually, do you have any toast? With jelly?" your voice tinged with a mix of disgust and desperation.

The chef looks momentarily puzzled, a slight furrow forming on his brow, but he nods politely.

"Of course, ma'am."

You abruptly get up, deciding to find it yourself. Making your way to the nearby pantry, you move with purpose as you begin rummaging through the neatly organized shelves. You feel Satoru’s amused gaze following your every move. Turning, you see him leaning back in his chair, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he watches you with evident curiosity.

“You're like a college student after a party. All this gourmet food and you want toast?"

Your fingers brush past jars of exotic spices and imported oils until you finally find what you’re looking for—a simple loaf of bread and a jar of ruby-red jelly. The familiar, comforting sight of them brings a small, satisfied smile to your lips. You turn to Satoru, holding up the items triumphantly.

“I just want something simple.”

As you set the bread and jelly down on the counter, Haru, perched nearby with wide and curious eyes, giggles at the sight.

"Mama wants toast!" she announces gleefully, her little voice echoing through the kitchen like a bell.

A grin curls up your lips as you unclasp the bread bag.

"Yes, mama wants toast," you say, popping a slice into the toaster. Leaning casually against the marble countertop, you shift your gaze to Satoru. “Anyways Mr. Gourmet, what’s the plan for today?”

Satoru leans back, his eyes narrowing playfully as he studies you.

"Well, I was thinking we could go over some things regarding Gojo Corporation. There are a few upcoming projects I’ve been meaning to discuss with you and I’d like your insight."

You arch an eyebrow, mildly caught off guard by the suggestion.

"Really? You usually handle all that on your own."

He nods, the movement slow and deliberate.

"True," he concedes, "but as my wife, I think it’s time you start coming back to the office with me. I want you to be more involved, and it’s important for everyone to see us working together as a team."

Your eyes widen in surprise.

"You want me to be more involved? I’m just a secretary."

Satoru shrugs with a casual air, but there’s a determined edge to his voice that tells you he’s thought this through.

"I’ve taken on a lot more responsibilities lately, and I could use your help. Besides, your insights have always been valuable to me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sudden pop of the toaster pulls your attention away. Turning your focus to the toast, you carefully spread jelly across the warm slice, but the task does little to settle the fluttering sensation in your chest.

This is a big ask.

You've always been behind the scenes, a secretary who knew the inner workings but never sat at the table where decisions were made. And now, here he is, trusting you with responsibilities that feel like they belong to someone else—someone more experienced, more confident.

It’s strange, surreal even, that Satoru would entrust you with such a significant role. Even if this is just a charade, this role requires more than just understanding the business. It requires being a partner in the truest sense.

“So…you’re serious about this? Gojo Corporation, we’re doing this together now?” you ask, returning to your seat, your voice carrying a hint of uncertainty as you search his eyes for reassurance.

Satoru nods.

“Absolutely. I think it’s time we show everyone what a true power couple looks like,” he replies, punctuating his words with a wink.

Leaning forward, he rests his chin in the cradle of his hand as he props his elbow casually on the table. His gaze locks onto yours, a glint of something more behind his deep blue eyes.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice softening slightly, “the office just isn’t the same without you.”

You take a slow bite of your toast, savoring the buttery warmth as it spreads across your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the unexpected warmth blossoming in your chest at his words.

“Yeah, right,” you murmur, “You just want to make me do all the paperwork."

His grin broadens, the corners of his mouth lifting into that familiar, dangerously charming smile that always seems to disarm you.

"Guilty as charged."

Haru reaches out eagerly, her tiny fingers wiggling with impatience.

“Toast!” she demands with all the confidence and adorable assertiveness of a two-year-old.

You tear off a small piece and place it into her eagerly awaiting hand. She takes it with a giggle, her eyes lighting up as she munches happily.

As you lift your toast back up to your lips, you catch Satoru’s gaze lingering on you. There is a subtle shift in his expression—a depth of emotion, a certain tenderness that makes you wonder what he could be thinking.

"What?" you ask, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone, though you’re not entirely sure why.

He doesn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he finally speaks.

"Nothing," he eventually says with a playful yet genuine edge. “It’s just... interesting to see you choose something so ordinary.”

“Sometimes less is more.” you counter, a hint of challenge in your voice. “Besides, not everyone grew up with chefs and staff at their beck and call. It’s a bit much sometimes.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, the smirk widening as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Oh? Are you saying my lifestyle is too much for you?”

You gesture broadly around the lavish room.

"Look at all this,” you exclaim, your voice tinged with a mix of awe and exasperation. “The staff, the gourmet meals, the constant attention. It's like I'm living in a palace. I can't breathe without someone trying to do something for me, and I can’t even cook for Haru without feeling like I'm stepping on someone's toes."

The words spill out before you can catch them, each one landing with a weight you hadn’t fully anticipated. There’s an undercurrent of something deeper in your tone, a tension that has been simmering just below the surface—an unease that you’ve been trying to push aside, but now, in this moment, it bubbles over, impossible to ignore.

Satoru’s gaze sharpens and he arches an eyebrow as he catches the subtle shift in your demeanor.

"You miss cooking?" his voice softening with genuine interest.

“Yeah, I do,” you confess, your voice tinged with a mix of longing and resignation. “It’s one of the few things that makes me feel grounded, like I’m in control of something. Plus, Haru loves my cooking.”

He regards you with an intensity that catches you off guard.

“I didn’t realize you felt that way. You know… you’re welcome to cook whenever you want. This is your home too, after all.”

There’s a brief pause as he seems to mull something over, his eyes distant before snapping back to yours with a newfound determination. He leans forward slightly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“How about this—you cook dinner tonight? I’ll tell the chef to take the night off.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback by the offer.

“You’d really do that?”

"Why not?" he says with a shrug. "This is your home now, for the next year at least. Besides, it’ll be nice to see you in your element, and I’m curious to taste your cooking."

A spark of excitement flickers within you at the idea, the thought of returning to something familiar and comforting lifting your spirits.

“Alright then,” you agree, a playful challenge in your tone. “But don’t complain if it doesn’t meet your gourmet standards.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect,” he responds, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that sends a ripple of anticipation through you.

He leans in closer, his elbow resting on the table as he tilts his head, his intense gaze locking onto yours. The proximity makes your heart skip a beat, the air between you charged with an unspoken connection.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he adds, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for you.

You hold his gaze, trying to maintain your composure, though you can feel a flutter in your chest.

“Just promise me you won’t hover in the kitchen,” you quip, lifting an eyebrow as you lean back slightly, creating a bit of space to steady your racing heart.

Satoru’s grin only widens, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes as he mirrors your movement, leaning back as well.

“No promises. I might want to learn a thing or two."

You cross your arms, challenging him with a smirk and a pointed look.

“You? Help out in the kitchen?”

The disbelief in your voice is clear, though a small smile tugs at your lips. The idea of him, the polished and ever-confident Satoru, navigating the chaos of a kitchen is almost too absurd to imagine.

He laughs, a rich sound that fills the room, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, I can follow directions,” he protests, his grin broadening. “Just tell me what to do.”

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

“We’ll see about that,” you quip, though there’s a part of you that’s curious—maybe even hopeful—that he might actually surprise you.

Before you can say more, Haru claps her hands together excitedly, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“Mama cooking! Yay!” she exclaims, bouncing in her highchair.

You laugh softly, ruffling her hair with affection.

“Yes, mama’s cooking tonight,” you confirm, the warmth in your voice mirroring the smile on your face.

Satoru watches the exchange with a softening gaze, a rare moment of quiet sincerity passing over his features. But then, with a stretch that seems to shake off the sentiment, he stands up, rolling his shoulders back.

“In the meantime,” he says, tone shifting back to business, “we should probably get ready to head to the office. There’s a lot we need to cover.”

ꨄ︎

As the car pulls up to the grand entrance of Gojo Corporation, you take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

It feels as though an eternity has passed since you last walked through those imposing doors, yet as you gaze up at the sleek, formidable building, a wave of familiarity washes over you, making it seem as if nothing has changed.

The towering glass structure looms above, its mirrored surface catching the early morning sun and casting a dazzling array of shimmering light that dances across the pavement. The reflections create an almost ethereal glow around the building.

As the sleek glass doors of Gojo Corporation glide open with a quiet whoosh, you and Satoru step through together, hand in hand.

The lobby unfolds before you, just as you remembered—spacious, modern, and a testament to impeccable design.

Polished marble floors stretch out beneath your feet, gleaming like a mirror under the bright, strategically placed lights. The air is filled with a soft, steady hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional click of heels against the floor.

Familiar faces turn towards you, their polite smiles masking the flickers of curiosity and speculation that dance in their eyes. You can feel the weight of their gazes, each glance a blend of respect tinged with a subtle undercurrent of skepticism.

The whispers are almost tangible, a low murmur that follows you as you move further into the lobby, their eyes tracking your every step.

Your hand instinctively tightens around Satoru’s, seeking reassurance in his steady presence. Satoru’s grip is firm yet comforting, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand in a silent gesture of support.

He leads you further into the lobby, his posture exuding confidence and ease, as if he’s entirely unbothered by the attention.

Each of your footsteps against the polished floor brings a flood of memories to you. There’s a palpable sense of nostalgia, a bittersweet longing for the simplicity and familiarity of your old workspace.

But everything has changed, hasn’t it?

Now, you’re his wife—at least, that’s the role you must play.

The weight of that title hangs heavy on your shoulders, transforming the once-familiar surroundings into a stage where every glance, every whisper carries a different meaning.

And Satoru—he has changed too.

The carefree son of the CEO you once knew has evolved into a leader in his own right. The transformation is subtle yet profound, etched in the way he carries himself, the way he interacts with the staff, and the way he commands respect without demanding it.

You can see the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, a mantle he has taken up with a quiet determination.

As you approach the elevators, Satoru’s hand slips from yours, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin as he reaches out to press the button.

The elevator doors slide open with a quiet, mechanical whisper, revealing the sleek, mirrored interior. You both step inside, the soft hum of the elevator filling the space with a steady, soothing rhythm.

Satoru glances at you, his eyes catching the soft light reflecting off the polished walls. There’s a small, reassuring smile on his lips, one that carries a hint of warmth and something deeper—perhaps a silent promise that everything will be alright.

“So,” he begins, his voice casual, though you can sense the underlying focus in his tone, “today we have a meeting regarding a potential corporate merger with Mei-Mei's company.”

“Mei-Mei… I remember her,” you say, your brow furrowing slightly as you search your memory. “Isn't she from that high-end tech company?”

Satoru nods and leans casually against the elevator wall, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly working.

“That’s right,” he confirms, his voice steady and assured. “She’s quite influential in her field, a key player in the tech industry. This merger could be a significant step for us, opening doors to new technologies and markets.”

As his words sink in, you feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. You swallow hard, trying to push down the unease that’s bubbling up inside you.

“Alright. What’s our approach for the meeting?”

Satoru’s eyes meet yours, his gaze steady and reassuring. There’s a quiet confidence in his expression, a belief in your abilities that helps to steady your nerves.

“We’ll present our strengths,” he explains. “We’ll show them what we can bring to the table, the value we offer. Your insights will be invaluable, so don’t hesitate to speak up. Just be yourself. That’s more than enough.”

You nod, drawing in a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest.

“Got it,” you reply, your voice more resolute now, bolstered by his confidence in you.

The elevator dings softly, and the doors glide open to reveal the executive floor, a space imbued with quiet power and understated elegance.

Satoru walks ahead, his stride confident and purposeful, and you follow closely, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.

As you enter the conference room, your eyes immediately land on Mei-Mei, already seated at the expansive table. She’s impeccably dressed, exuding an air of effortless elegance and control.

The moment she spots Satoru, her eyes light up with a warmth that feels just a bit too personal. A slow, sultry smile spreads across her lips as she rises gracefully from her chair.

“Satoru, darling,” she purrs, her voice smooth and honeyed as she glides toward him with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what she wants. “It’s been far too long.”

Seeing her in person brings a rush of memories, sharp and unbidden—the sound of her voice, the way she says his name...

Mei-Mei isn’t just any business associate— she’s the woman who was once poised to step into the very role you now occupy.

Satoru’s father had been persistent he consider her for marriage, a match that had been pushed on him relentlessly.

The realization sharpens your senses, and as Mei-Mei continues to hold Satoru’s gaze with practiced ease, you steel yourself, determined not to let old rivalries or lingering doubts shake your confidence.

Satoru smiles politely, his expression composed and unreadable as he extends a hand to her.

“Mei-Mei,” he greets her, his tone smooth and diplomatic. “Always a pleasure.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes flicker with satisfaction as she accepts his hand, her touch light and fleeting, like a whisper of silk.

Her gaze shifts to you as she releases his hand, a spark of curiosity mingling with something more calculated behind her eyes.

“And who might this be?” she inquires, her voice carrying a subtle edge, as if she’s already assessing your worth.

“This is my wife, y/n” Satoru says smoothly, his hand finding yours. “She’ll be joining us for the meeting.”

Mei-Mei’s smile curves at the edges, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which narrow slightly as she studies you more closely.

“Of course,” she says, her tone dripping with courtesy that feels just a shade too polished. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

She pauses, her gaze sharpening with a hint of challenge.

“I must say, I haven’t heard of you before. What family do you come from?”

A twinge of discomfort ripples through you, a reminder of the stark difference in backgrounds. You swallow slightly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I... I don’t come from a well-known family,” you admit, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I’ve worked with Satoru at Gojo Corporation for the past year.”

Mei-Mei’s smile shifts, the corners of her lips lifting just a fraction, but there’s a condescending glint in her eyes now.

“Oh, I see,” she replies, her voice laced with a faint, dismissive amusement. “How quaint.”

You force a smile, though it feels tight on your lips, refusing to let her patronizing attitude get under your skin.

As you move to take your seat at the table, you watch as she leans in closer to Satoru, her fingers grazing his arm in a gesture that seems almost too casual, too familiar.

“I must say, Satoru,” Mei-Mei purrs, her voice smooth and saccharine, like honey with a hint of venom, “you’ve been doing an impressive job with the company. Your father would be proud.”

Satoru nods, keeping his tone professional.

“Thank you, Mei-Mei. We’ve made some significant strides, and I’m optimistic about the potential this merger holds for both of our companies.”

“Of course, Satoru. I’m sure we can work out something that benefits both parties. After all,” she adds, her gaze lingering on him with a knowing smile, “we’ve always made a great team, haven’t we?”

Determined to assert your own presence, you clear your throat softly and lean forward, your gaze steady and unyielding.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how our strengths can complement each other,” you interject smoothly. “There’s a lot we can achieve together.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes flicker to you. She offers a tight smile, the warmth in her expression barely masking the sharpness beneath.

“Indeed,” she concedes, her tone now laced with a hint of challenge. “Let’s make this a success, shall we?”

The meeting begins, and you do your best to focus on the discussion, but Mei-Mei’s constant flirtation with Satoru gnaws at your nerves like a persistent thorn.

You can feel the tension building within you, your hands clenched tightly in your lap as you force yourself to remain composed, every muscle in your body taut with restraint.

Mei-Mei finds every opportunity to brush her fingers against Satoru’s arm, her touch lingering just a second too long. Her laughter rings out, a bit too loud and a touch too sweet, echoing off the walls of the conference room.

Every compliment she directs at Satoru is overly effusive, dripping with a familiarity that sets your teeth on edge.

Satoru, to his credit, remains the picture of professionalism.

His responses are polite but distant, a carefully maintained detachment that you admire even as it does little to quell the irritation bubbling inside you. He’s skilled at sidestepping her advances with an almost practiced ease, deflecting her attempts to draw him into her web of flirtation.

But despite his composed demeanor, each of Mei-Mei’s calculated gestures feels like a test—a deliberate provocation meant to unsettle you, to remind you of the history that lingers between them.

The subtle, unspoken challenge in her eyes whenever she glances your way only fuels the fire simmering within you.

“So, Satoru,” Mei-Mei says, leaning closer to him, “about the merger terms, I believe we should consider revising the profit-sharing ratio. It would be beneficial for both parties.”

Her tone is persuasive, almost coaxing, as she tilts her head slightly, letting her hair fall in a way that draws attention to the graceful curve of her neck.

But before Satoru can respond, you lean forward, your voice calm yet firm, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Actually, if you look at the numbers, the current ratio is fair and balanced, ensuring both companies benefit equally from this partnership.”

For a split second, annoyance flashes in Mei-Mei’s eyes, a subtle tightening at the corners of her mouth betraying her irritation. But she quickly masks it with a polished smile, her expression smoothing over as if the moment of discord never happened.

“I see,” she replies, her voice still honeyed but with a slight edge. “Well, perhaps we can discuss this further in detail later.”

Satoru, ever the diplomat, nods in agreement, his tone steady and measured.

“We can certainly revisit that point,” he says, his gaze shifting between you and Mei-Mei, acknowledging both perspectives. “But for now, let’s proceed with the agenda.”

As the conversation continues, Mei-Mei’s relentless flirtations with Satoru are becoming more and more unbearable.

Each coy glance she throws Satoru’s way chips away at your composure, and you find it harder and harder to maintain the calm facade you’ve been desperately clinging to.

Just when you think you can’t endure it any longer, Satoru glances at his watch and suggests,

“Let’s take a short break. We’ll reconvene in fifteen minutes.”

The words are like a lifeline tossed to a drowning person.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you mutter, barely managing to keep the tremor out of your voice as you slip out of the room.

The moment you’re out of sight, you quicken your pace, your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you make a beeline for the supply room. The small, confined space offers a momentary refuge from the oppressive atmosphere of the conference room.

As you close the door behind you, the faint scent of paper and office supplies envelops you, oddly comforting in its familiarity, like a reminder of simpler times.

You start to rummage through the supplies, your hands moving automatically as you try to distract yourself from the image of Mei-Mei’s hands brushing against Satoru’s arm, her laughter echoing in your ears.

The memory plays on a loop in your mind, fueling the frustration that bubbles just beneath the surface.

You grab a few items—a stack of sticky notes, a box of paperclips—and begin organizing them on the shelf, your movements precise, almost mechanical.

Moments later, the door creaks open, and you look up to see Satoru standing in the doorway, a nostalgic smile on his face.

“Doesn’t look like you’re taking much of a break.”

“I guess old habits die hard,” your voice clipped, betraying the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

“Seeing you in here brings back memories,” he continues, stepping further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the shelves as if he, too, is remembering the countless times you’d both found yourselves in this very spot, buried in work and conversation.

The familiarity of it should be comforting, but today, it only amplifies the growing disarray you feel inside. You huff, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Since I’ve been gone, it’s obvious someone isn’t doing the supply order right,” you gesture sharply to the cluttered shelves. “Everything’s out of place.”

He chuckles softly, closing the distance between you with a few steps.

“You always were meticulous about these things. Guess no one can do it quite like you.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you turn back to the shelves.

“This whole day has been a mess,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him, the words escaping in a rush of pent-up emotion.

Each item you straighten feels like an attempt to impose order on something far more chaotic than these shelves—a futile effort to regain control in a situation that seems increasingly out of your grasp.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against a shelf, his posture relaxed but his eyes attentive.

“Really? I thought things were going well,” he remarks, a hint of confusion in his voice.

You turn to face him, your frustration bubbling over, no longer containable.

“Well, they’re not,” you snap, the sharpness in your voice surprising even yourself. “This merger? It’s a terrible idea. It’s obvious Mei-Mei is just trying to squeeze as much revenue out of this deal as possible, and you’re letting her.”

Satoru’s teasing expression falters, replaced by one of seriousness. He uncrosses his arms, his posture shifting as he takes a step closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that wasn’t there before.

“What makes you say that?”

You cross your arms defensively, glaring at him.

“The terms she’s proposing are ridiculous. She’s pushing for more than her company deserves.”

“Why didn’t you say something during the meeting?” he counters, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

You throw your hands up in exasperation, your emotions spilling over.

“How could I?” you quip, the words escaping in a rush. “Mei-Mei was too busy batting her eyelashes and finding any excuse to touch you. Every time I tried to speak, she’d cut me off or distract you with some flirtatious nonsense.”

Satoru’s eyebrow arches, and for a moment, a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Are you jealous?”

Your cheeks flush involuntarily, and you turn back to the shelves, grabbing a stack of papers and slamming them down with more force than necessary.

“Of course not,” you retort, your voice tinged with frustration. “It’s just... unprofessional.”

He doesn’t back down, the smirk still playing on his lips as he steps closer, closing the distance between you until he’s right in front of you.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know that?” he murmurs, his tone playful, almost affectionate.

That’s the last straw.

Your patience, already worn thin, finally snaps.

“You know what? It's hard enough trying to fit into this world without someone like her treating me like I don’t belong!”

You shove the papers aside, the sound of them scattering across the table punctuating your words, and start to walk past him, needing to escape the confined space.

Satoru’s smirk vanishes as he realizes the depth of your frustration. He grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, and pulls you back to him. His grip is firm but gentle, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice sincere. “I didn’t realize how much this was bothering you.”

You look up at him, your vision blurring slightly as tears threaten to spill over. The vulnerability you’ve been trying to hold back finally breaks through, and the words tumble out before you can stop them.

“It’s just... it’s not easy being here, Satoru,” you confess, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I feel out of place, like I don’t belong and I’m constantly being judged. It’s like everyone’s waiting for me to fail.”

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening as he studies your face, reading the depth of your distress.

“This isn’t just about Mei-Mei, is it?” he asks gently. “Does this have anything to do with that guy at the gala last night? The one that was overly familiar with you at the bar?”

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his perceptiveness.

“What? No, this is different,” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation.

“Is it?” he presses gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your back of your hand. “Because I saw how he looked at you. And how uncomfortable you seemed.”

You shake your head, a mixture of frustration and exasperation bubbling to the surface.

“Naoya was just being his usual self, trying to provoke me,” you say dismissively.

“Naoya, huh?” Satoru’s voice hardens slightly, his expression darkening at the mention of the name. “He didn’t just try to provoke you. He was trying to undermine you in front of everyone. Who is that guy to you?”

The intensity in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat, and you can see that Satoru isn’t just curious—he’s genuinely concerned, and more than a little angry.

The protective edge in his voice tells you that he’s not going to let this go easily, and you realize that he’s picking up on more than you’d like to admit.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you weigh your words carefully.

“He’s... he’s Haru’s father,” you finally admit, the words leaving your lips in a hesitant whisper.

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock, the sudden revelation hitting him like a physical blow.

“What? Haru’s father? Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s a sharpness in his tone now, not out of anger, but out of the raw emotion of being blindsided by something so significant.

You drop your gaze, unable to meet his eyes, the weight of your past suddenly feeling like too much to bear.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my past,” you say quietly, your voice thick with regret.

For a moment, there’s silence, thick and heavy between you, and you can feel the tension radiating off him.

But then, gently, he lifts your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch is tender, his expression softening as he looks into your eyes, searching for the truth in them.

“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt. “And Haru is part of your life. That means she’s part of mine now too.”

You hesitate, the weight of his words settling over you as you struggle to find the right response.

“Satoru, I... I just didn’t know how to bring it up,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly with the vulnerability of the confession. “I didn’t want to complicate things. It’s just… I feel like I’m constantly being tested, like I have to prove myself over and over again.”

The words spill out in a rush, the pent-up emotions you’ve been holding back finally breaking free.

He sighs softly, his expression softening as he reaches out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he says, his voice gentle, but there’s an underlying seriousness in his tone. “But we can’t have any more secrets between us during this arrangement. If we’re going to make this work, we need to be honest with each other.”

The sincerity in his eyes, the warmth in his touch—it all combines to create a sense of safety, a reassurance that you’re not alone in this, even if this is just a charade, it’s the comfort you desperately need.

Tears well up in your eyes again, threatening to spill out as your emotions overwhelm you. You nod, swallowing hard to keep your voice steady.

“I understand,” you whisper, “no more secrets.”

Without a word, Satoru pulls you into a gentle embrace, his arms encircling you with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.

He holds you close, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm against your ear. “You do belong, y/n. And I’m not going to let anyone—Mei-Mei, Naoya, or anyone else—make you feel otherwise.”

As he speaks, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you simply melt into his embrace, letting the warmth and security he provides wash over you.

Your heart races as his hand slowly moves up, fingers gently threading through your hair, his touch so tender it makes your breath hitch. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breath warm against your ear, grounding you in this shared moment of vulnerability.

But then, you pull back slightly, looking up at him, and it’s only then that you truly realize how close you are.

Your faces are mere inches apart, and the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming, drawing your attention to the way his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening as you feel the magnetic pull between you, the tension thick in the air.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, anticipation building as his lips draw nearer.

But just before they brush against yours, a sliver of doubt crosses your mind—the reality of the situation, reminding you of where you are, and what you are to each other.

You pull back slightly, your voice barely a whisper.

“We should probably head back to the meeting.”

Though you say the words, your voice lacks conviction, betraying your true feelings.

Satoru’s eyes search yours for a moment longer, his forehead resting gently against yours as he takes a deep breath, the sound filled with a mix of reluctance and understanding.

He slowly pulls back, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Yeah, we should,” he agrees softly, though his tone carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

His hand slips from your cheek, the absence of his touch leaving you feeling a bit colder.

“Let’s get back to it.”

ꨄ︎

As you re-enter the conference room, Mei-Mei is already seated, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently on the table.

She looks up as you and Satoru take your seats, a sly, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Ah, there you are,” she says, her tone dripping with faux sweetness, the honeyed edge barely masking the underlying condescension. “Shall we continue?”

Satoru clears his throat, his expression carefully neutral as he regains his composure. There’s a subtle shift in his demeanor, a steely resolve that wasn’t there before.

“Right, let’s continue where we left off.”

Mei-Mei’s smile deepens, saccharine sweet and just as poisonous, as she resumes her position with an air of unshakable confidence.

She leans forward slightly, her fingers stilling as she clasps her hands together, a picture of poised professionalism.

“Of course,” she purrs. “Now, as I was saying, the merger terms we’re proposing are quite favorable, especially considering the current market conditions. I’m confident that with a little cooperation, we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement. Perhaps we can revisit the profit-sharing ratio?”

Her words are delivered with the precision of someone who’s used to getting her way, but you can feel the subtle shift in her gaze as it flickers toward you, her eyes cold and calculating.

You glance at Satoru, seeking the silent reassurance that only he can offer in this moment.

He meets your gaze and gives you a subtle nod, the unspoken signal you’ve been waiting for. Your heart pounds in your chest, the adrenaline surging as you realize that this is your moment.

It’s now or never.

Summoning every ounce of courage within you, you rise from your seat, your voice steady and clear as it cuts through the tension in the room.

“Actually, we’ve reconsidered,” you begin, each word carefully measured. “After reviewing the terms, we’ve decided that moving forward with this merger is not in the best interest of Gojo Corporation.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes widen in surprise, her carefully crafted facade slipping for just a fraction of a second. The shock in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it, the brief crack in her confidence before she quickly regains her composure.

“Excuse me?” she demands, her voice sharp with incredulity. “Are you saying you’re rejecting our proposal?”

You meet her gaze unflinchingly, standing firm with a resolve that surprises even you.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” you reply, your voice steady and unyielding. “The terms you’re proposing are not equitable, and it’s clear that your company stands to gain disproportionately from this deal. We’re not interested in a partnership that doesn’t offer balanced benefits.”

Mei-Mei’s smile tightens, the corners of her lips pulling into a strained curve as she processes your words. Her composure is slipping, the veneer of control cracking as she realizes she’s losing her grip on the situation.

Desperation flickers in her eyes as she glances toward Satoru, clearly hoping to find an ally in him.

“Satoru,” her tone laced with forced sweetness, “surely we can discuss this further—”

“I trust my wife’s judgment completely,” Satoru leans back in his chair with a calm confidence, a proud smile playing on his lips as he watches you take control of the situation. “If she says the deal isn’t right for us, then we won’t proceed.”

The finality in his tone leaves no room for negotiation and the impact of his words is immediate.

Mei-Mei’s expression falters, the last traces of her confident facade slipping away as frustration and disbelief flicker in her eyes. She forces a tight smile, nodding curtly, her eyes hardening.

“I see. Well, it’s your loss. Our offer was quite generous.”

You hold her gaze, unflinching.

“We’ll find another opportunity that aligns better with our goals. Thank you for your time.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes narrow slightly, but she says nothing more. Instead, she gathers her things with an icy precision, each movement deliberate as she rises from her seat.

The tension in the room is palpable as she turns on her heel and strides toward the door, her demeanor frosty, the sting of defeat evident in her rigid posture. The door closes behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the suddenly quiet room.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the tension slowly melting away as a surge of relief and empowerment floods through you.

The adrenaline rush of standing your ground leaves you feeling both exhilarated and slightly shaky, but there’s also a newfound confidence simmering beneath the surface—a realization that you’re more than capable of handling whatever comes your way.

Satoru turns to you, his smile widening with pride as he meets your gaze.

“You handled that perfectly,” the warmth in his voice is like a reassuring embrace.

You return his smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you.

“Thanks. I guess I just needed to find my voice.”

And find it you did.

ꨄ︎

As the sun begins to set, it casts a warm, golden glow through the expansive windows of the Gojo residence kitchen.

The light dances across the sleek, modern space, highlighting the clean lines of stainless-steel appliances and the smooth, cool surface of marble countertops.

You stand at the kitchen island, surrounded by a colorful array of ingredients—vibrant tomatoes, fragrant basil, and glistening cuts of meat, each carefully selected for the evening’s meal.

Satoru walks in, rolling up his sleeves with a playful grin lighting up his face.

“So, Chef,” he says with a teasing lilt in his voice, leaning casually against the counter as he takes in the scene before him. His blue eyes sparkle with excitement, “What’s on the menu tonight?”

You glance up from the cutting board, catching his gaze.

There’s a lightness in his demeanor, a boyish enthusiasm that makes you smile in return. The way he looks at you—like you’re the most interesting part of his day—sends a flutter of warmth through your chest.

“Nothing fancy. Just some homemade pasta and a simple salad. I hope that’s okay with you, Mr. Gourmet.”

“Sounds perfect,” he grins, moving to your side, ready to help. “What can I do?”

You hand him a cutting board and a knife, pointing to a colorful pile of vegetables waiting to be prepped.

“You can start by chopping these for the salad.”

He takes the knife, looking at it a bit awkwardly and glances at you with a sheepish grin.

“Alright, let’s see if I remember how to do this without losing a finger.”

You can’t help but watch with amusement as he makes a few tentative cuts, each slice uneven and clumsy. It’s clear he’s out of practice—or perhaps he never had much to begin with.

The sight of him, usually so confident, struggling with something so simple brings a smile to your face.

“Here, let me show you,” you say, moving to stand beside him.

Sliding closer, you place your hand over his on the knife handle, your touch gentle yet firm.

“You want to keep your fingers tucked in like this,” you instruct, demonstrating with your own hand, ensuring his fingers are safely out of the knife’s path. “And use a rocking motion with the knife, letting the blade do the work.”

You move his hand with yours, the rhythm of the knife creating a soothing pattern.

Satoru watches you intently, the proximity making your heart race. The warmth of his hand beneath yours sends a shiver up your spine.

As you continue to guide him, your hands move together in sync, and you can’t help but notice the way his focus shifts from the vegetables to you, his blue eyes flickering with something deeper than just concentration.

“Got it,” he murmurs softly.

You continue to guide his hand, feeling the rhythm of the chopping become smoother.

“Like this?”

“Exactly,” you reply, meeting his gaze, your heart fluttering at the intensity in his eyes. “See? It’s not so hard once you get the hang of it.”

He chuckles, and his eyes remain locked on yours, a playful spark mingling with the more serious undercurrent in his expression.

“Not hard at all, especially with such a good teacher.”

The moment lingers, the air between you charged with a newfound intimacy. Reluctantly, you step back, breaking the spell as you release your hold on the knife.

“I think you’ve got it from here.”

Satoru nods, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he returns to the vegetables with a newfound determination.

There is a new awareness in the way he handles the knife, as if he’s carrying forward the memory of your touch.

The two of you work in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of garlic in the pan.

It feels oddly domestic, a far cry from the high-stakes world of corporate mergers and charity galas.

The simplicity of this moment, shared in the soft light of the kitchen, is a refreshing contrast to the complexities of your usual lives.

“You know, I never imagined I’d be doing something like this,” Satoru admits after a while, his voice breaking the silence. “But I’m glad I am.”

You glance over at him, catching the sincerity in his eyes, and you can’t help but smile.

“Cooking is kind of therapeutic for me, you know,” you say, your voice thoughtful as you turn your attention back to the task at hand. “It helps me clear my mind, and it’s something I can control, unlike so many other things in life.”

Satoru watches you for a moment, his expression softening as he absorbs your words. There’s a quiet admiration in his gaze, one that you can feel even without looking at him.

“You know, I gotta say, you’re really good at this.”

“Hm? Cooking?” you ask, glancing up at him with a curious tilt of your head.

“No,” his voice softens. “Balancing everything. Being a mother, dealing with me, and now standing up in that meeting. You’re incredible.”

His words catch you off guard, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace.

Your cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the heat of the stove.

For a moment, you’re at a loss for words, the gravity of his praise settling in. You turn your attention back to the stove, stirring the sauce with a renewed focus, using the task to steady yourself.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you finally manage. “That means a lot.”

As you continue to cook, the tension of the day begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm that settles over you like a warm blanket.

The kitchen fills with the rich, mouthwatering aroma of simmering tomatoes, fresh basil, and garlic, the scents mingling together to create an atmosphere that feels both comforting and intimate.

Satoru moves beside you with surprising grace, each motion purposeful and smooth, belying his earlier claims of inexperience.

You find yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the toned muscles of his forearms as he works.

There’s a quiet concentration in his expression, a focus that draws you in, making it impossible not to notice the way he’s completely absorbed in the task at hand.

“Looks like you’re a natural.”

Your words earn you a grin, his usual playfulness shining through.

“Don’t jinx it,” he warns, making a particularly precise cut with the knife, his movements confident and sure.

You laugh, the sound light and carefree as you turn back to the sauce simmering on the stove.

“I think it’s time to taste this,” you say, stirring the rich, fragrant mixture with a wooden spoon. “Want to give it a try?”

Satoru nods, stepping closer, the space between you narrowing as he joins you at the stove.

You scoop a bit of the sauce onto a spoon, blowing on it gently to cool it down before lifting it to your lips for a taste. The rich, tangy flavors explode on your tongue, the perfect balance of sweetness and acidity.

“Mmm, I think it’s almost perfect,” you murmur, savoring the taste, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you let the flavors linger.

“Almost?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of challenge.

You smile, opening your eyes to find his gaze fixed on you, the intensity in his blue eyes sending a shiver down your spine.

“Here, taste,” you say, holding the spoon up to his lips, your hand steady.

He leans in, his movements slow and deliberate, every inch closer making your heart beat a little faster. His eyes remain locked on yours with an unspoken intensity, and as his lips close around the spoon, you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for his reaction.

There’s a brief pause as he savors the sauce, his expression thoughtful.

“Wow, that’s delicious,” his voice low and sincere.

Just as you’re about to smile in response, you feel a light touch on your lip. Before you can react, Satoru reaches out, his thumb gently swiping at the corner of your mouth where a bit of sauce had lingered.

The unexpected contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath catching in your throat.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his own lips, tasting the sauce with a playful smirk that leaves you momentarily speechless.

“Now that’s perfect.”

The simple gesture, so intimate and unassuming, leaves you flustered, warmth spreading through your cheeks.

The kitchen seemed to grow smaller and the air thicker.

You quickly turn your attention back to stirring the pasta, desperately trying to steady your racing heart and regain your composure as you move the spoon in slow, deliberate circles.

“You always know how to make things interesting,” you manage to say, your voice betraying the flutter of nerves that Satoru has stirred up.

He chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through the small space between you, and you feel him step closer until his chest is nearly brushing against your back.

The warmth of his presence wraps around you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and something more—something electric.

“I could say the same about you,” his breath warm against your ear.

You turn slightly, your breath catching as you realize just how close he is. His blue eyes, so focused and intense, lock onto yours, and the world seems to narrow to just the two of you.

Satoru leans in, his voice dropping to a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You have a way of making everything more exciting, y/n.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry as your eyes flicker to his lips and then back to his eyes.

The pull between you is magnetic, undeniable, and you struggle to maintain your composure.

“Maybe it’s just because you’re so easily entertained,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to diffuse the intensity of the moment with a hint of playfulness.

He grins, the expression sending your heart into a wild flutter.

Slowly, his hand moves to rest on the counter beside you, effectively trapping you in place. The gesture is subtle yet commanding, his body language exuding a quiet confidence that leaves you feeling both exhilarated and breathless.

“Or maybe it’s because you’re just that captivating,” he counters, his voice a hushed rumble that sends another wave of warmth through you.

“Okaaay, Mr. Smooth Talker,” you manage to say, your voice tinged with nervous laughter as you attempt to regain some semblance of control. “How about you help me with the garlic bread?”

The suggestion is your lifeline, a way to shift the focus and calm your racing heart before you’re completely lost in the moment.

Satoru’s grin widens, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“Whatever you need, Chef,” he replies, his tone lightening as he pushes away from the counter and moves to the other side of the kitchen.

The distance between you offers a brief reprieve, allowing you to steady your breathing and refocus on the task at hand.

Get it together—this isn’t real.

ꨄ︎

The table is set with a simple elegance that mirrors the meal you’ve prepared—fresh pasta topped with a rich, fragrant tomato sauce, golden garlic bread still warm from the oven, and a crisp, colorful salad that adds a splash of vibrancy to the setting.

Haru, already seated with her eyes wide in anticipation, swings her little legs under the table, her excitement palpable.

“Mama, pasta!” she exclaims, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

Her gaze flickers from the steaming plates to the basket of garlic bread, her small hands already reaching for a slice as if she can hardly wait another moment.

Satoru chuckles as he takes his seat beside her, his smile widening at the sight of her enthusiasm.

“Patience, Haru,” he teases, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Let’s wait for your mama to sit down.”

You join them at the table, a soft smile playing on your lips as you take in the scene.

Carefully, you begin to serve the plates, starting with Haru. You scoop a generous portion of pasta onto her plate, the rich tomato sauce clinging perfectly to the tender strands.

“There you go, sweetie,” you say with a smile, placing the plate in front of her. “But remember, eat slowly, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

Haru nods eagerly, though you can tell she’s barely restraining herself. Her little fingers curl around her fork, her eyes never leaving the plate as she prepares to dive in.

Next, you turn to Satoru, serving him a plate with equal care.

The pasta glistens under the soft light, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting up as you set it before him.

As you place the plate down, his eyes meet yours, and in that brief moment, there’s a silent exchange—one of gratitude, warmth, and something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

You nod in response, your heart warming at the connection between you, simple yet profound.

Meanwhile, Haru’s eyes widen even further as she finally takes her first bite.

The flavors burst in her mouth, her little face lighting up with pure delight. She chews enthusiastically, her expression one of sheer happiness, and you can’t help but smile at her reaction.

“Yummy!” she declares, her mouth full as she grins up at you.

Her words are filled with such genuine enthusiasm and innocence that it makes your heart swell with pride.

Satoru watches Haru with a fond smile before he too takes a bite of the meal you’ve lovingly prepared.

His expression shifts almost immediately to one of pleasant surprise, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors settle on his palate. He chews thoughtfully, savoring the blend of fresh ingredients and the care that went into the preparation.

“She’s right. This is amazing, you really outdid yourself.”

A smile spreads across your face, a warmth blooming in your chest at their praise.

It’s a simple meal, nothing extravagant, but the way they’re enjoying it makes it feel like the most special dinner in the world.

“I’m glad you both like it. It’s nice to be able to cook for you.”

As you begin to eat, the room fills with the sounds of contentment—Haru’s happy chatter as she dives into her meal, Satoru’s occasional hum of approval as he tastes each dish, and the gentle clinking of cutlery against plates.

The meal continues and the three of you fall into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing naturally.

Haru tells stories about her day, her voice animated as she shares every little detail. Satoru listens attentively, his focus on her unwavering, his smile growing with each of her excited exclamations.

At one point, Haru insists on feeding Satoru a bite of her pasta, her giggles bubbling up like a stream as she carefully maneuvers the fork towards his mouth.

Satoru, ever the playful one, exaggerates the motion, opening his mouth wide and making a show of how delicious the bite is. He rolls his eyes in mock ecstasy, his exaggerated reaction sending Haru into a fit of laughter that rings out like the purest music.

The way Satoru looks at Haru, with such genuine affection and warmth, causes a tightness in your chest—a beautiful, almost overwhelming sensation that swells within you.

His eyes are soft, his smile unguarded, and in that moment, you can see just how much he cherishes these little interactions with her.

It’s a sight that tugs at your heartstrings, making you realize just how deeply he’s become entwined in both your lives.

Taking in this moment, you feel a deep sense of contentment, a quiet happiness that fills your heart to the brim.

This scene, so ordinary yet so special, feels like a moment you want to hold onto forever.

It is a culmination of everything you’ve been striving for—a sense of belonging, of family, of home.

Ah, but this isn’t real—just a charade.

Just as this warmth settles in your heart, a pang of bittersweetness follows.

Yet, despite knowing the truth, you can’t help but wish, just for a moment, that it could be.

Haru, now tired from all the excitement, leans against Satoru, her small head resting on his arm. Her eyelids grow heavy, her earlier energy now spent, and she begins to drift off, her breaths becoming slow and rhythmic.

Satoru glances at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and sincere, “I could get used to this. We should cook more often. Sharing meals like this... it’s nice.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a second, the line between reality and pretense blurs. You nod, but your mind races.

This is just a charade… right?

Yet, as you look into Satoru’s eyes, the warmth there makes you question everything. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of him that feels the same way you do—a longing for this to be more than just an act.

ꨄ︎

The late afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains of the Gojo mansion, casting a warm golden grown across the living room.

You sit on the couch as Haru plays on the floor, completely absorbed in her toys, her little hands guiding her dolls through an imagined world of adventure and make-believe.

Her soft giggles and murmured conversations with her toys bring a smile to your face, filling the room with a sense of peace and contentment.

Satoru had business to attend to, and before leaving, he made sure you had the rest of the day to spend with Haru.

It’s a rare and treasured opportunity, these quiet hours spent together, free from the demands of the outside world.

As you watch Haru, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for this time—this simple, unhurried togetherness that feels so rare in your often chaotic lives.

But then, the doorbell rings, cutting through the tranquility like a sharp knife.

You glance toward the door, your heart giving a slight, uneasy flutter.

Pushing aside the apprehension creeping into your chest, you rise from the couch, taking a steadying breath as you approach the door.

When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a stern-looking man in a crisp suit, his expression as unyielding as his posture.

There’s something about his demeanor that instantly puts you on edge. He’s holding an envelope in one hand, his grip firm, almost as if the paper holds some kind of weight beyond its physical presence.

“Mrs. Gojo?” he asks, his voice flat, businesslike.

The formal tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you nod cautiously, a sense of dread unfurling in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, that’s me,” you reply, your voice a little more tentative than you’d like.

Without another word, he thrusts the envelope into your hands, his gaze unwavering as he says,

“You’ve been served.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and ominous. Your fingers tighten around the envelope as confusion and alarm spike within you.

“Served? For what?” you ask, your voice betraying the anxiety that’s quickly rising.

The man’s expression remains unchanged, impassive.

“Custody of Haru. Mr. Naoya Zenin is filing for full custody,” he states matter-of-factly, as if it’s just another routine task for him, another case on a long list.

The shock of his words hits you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat.

For a moment, you stand there frozen, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in as he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving you standing in the doorway, the envelope clutched tightly in your hand.

This can’t be happening.

With trembling hands, you tear open the envelope, your eyes darting across the densely packed lines of legal jargon. Each word seems to blur into the next as your heart pounds furiously in your chest.

This is happening.

A cold wave of dread washes over you, settling deep in your bones as the reality of the situation begins to take hold.

Just a few feet away, Haru is still playing in the living room, her laughter and cheerful babble a stark contrast to the turmoil that’s unraveling in your mind.

She’s completely oblivious to the storm that’s brewing, her innocence a painful reminder of what’s at stake.

As you stand there, frozen in place, your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your daze.

You glance down at the screen, your stomach knotting as you see Naoya’s name flash across it. With a sense of dread, you unlock the phone and read the message.

Naoya Zenin: There, hopefully I finally have your attention. I suggest giving me a call if you want to avoid this all.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, a toxic mix of fear and anger bubbling up inside you.

Your hands shake uncontrollably as you stare at the message, the smugness practically oozing from each word.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume you.

With shaky fingers, you dial Naoya’s number. Each ring feels like an eternity, and when he finally answers, his voice is dripping with satisfaction.

“Y/n, I was wondering when you’d call,” he purrs, his tone as smooth as ever, but laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of smugness.

“What the hell is this, Naoya?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. “You’re filing for full custody of Haru?”

There’s a pause, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he finally responds. He chuckles softly, the sound sending chills down your spine.

“I see you got my notice. Good. It’s time we discussed Haru’s future.”

The casual tone in his voice, as if this is just another business deal, ignites a fire within you. But before you can respond, he continues, his voice turning colder.

“I’m sending you an address. Meet me here tomorrow. Oh, and y/n.” his voice drops, becoming even more sinister, “I strongly suggest you don’t involve Satoru—unless you want this to become a nasty custody battle.”

His words hang in the air, a thinly veiled threat that tightens around your chest like a vice.

You stand there, phone in hand, the weight of his ultimatum pressing down on you.

The line goes dead.

strap in guys we are approaching some angst 🥺 oh if only reader knew how down bad satoru is for her 🥲 i actually really struggled with how i wanted this chapter to be structured, there are a lot of scenes i ended up writing that i opted to move to a later chapter because i just felt it was too rushed. the slow burn of this relationship is really important to me, so ultimately, i think it was for the best. would love to hear your thoughts! thanks for reading my fic 🫶🏻 → onto the next chapter ꨄ

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kenzieluvsnanami · 28 days

Text

kenzieluvssuguru :: ☆*:.｡.o the roommate (18+) o.｡.:*☆

You were sure you hated him. From the crown of his silky, jet black hair to the bottom of his bunny-slipper clad feet. Everything he did pissed you off. Whether it’s finishing your very expensive shampoo or sneaking bites of your carefully hidden sweet treats, one thing was for certain: Geto Suguru knew how to get and STAY on your last nerve. (f!reader x suguru)

cw *:･ﾟ✧ roommate/no curses/college au, reader is overworked and underpaid 😭, auditory voyeurism? (by reader).. readers basically a cuck (unknown to suguru, sooo dubcon kinda), cheeky suguru/slight humour (cant help myself), dirty talk, OF references, description of the devils tango (but not w reader) and mastúrbation *:･ﾟ✧♡ 3.2k words // part 1 , part 2

He had become your roommate at the beginning of second year. Having an egregiously rich grandmother who liked her grandkids to earn their keep had its perks at times, one of those being the inheritance of a beautifully furnished townhouse that was only a half hour commute from your university.

However, the downside was the substantial cost of maintaining the house. Bills pilled up fast and whilst your grandmother was lounging in Turks and Caicos, you were working multiple jobs: the campus coffee shop on off-days, a drum and bass club on the weekend and tutoring whenever time allowed.

It was

Wearing.

You.

Down.

By the end of the second semester you had enough. Physically and emotionally drained, you sat down and pondered over all the possible avenues of making money - ASAP since energy companies were not necessarily known for their patience and generosity. Whilst starting an OF was firmly out of the equation, it did give you an idea. Instead of selling yourself, you could sell your home! Ok, not the whole house - but there was a spare room adjoined to yours, fully furnished with its own small terrace. A charming, spacious place where many students living on campus dorms would love to be. However, who did you know that was willing to move out this late in second year? Most had already settled into their new homes and were already accustomed to the people they lived with. You tried asking around but unfortunately it was all rejection.

Dejected, you slinked into your critical analysis class that evening, eye bags so heavy they were almost pulling your eyes shut. The tiredness must have put you you some sort of delirious state because when you sat in your usual seat as you pondered over your situation... aloud?!

"you want someone move in with you?" echoed the mild-mannered man beside you.

Confused and slightly taken aback, he asked you to repeat yourself, to make sure he heard you clearly. Rather frustrated, you grumbled out the question not even meaning to ask him about your situation and to your surprise - he actually said yes. Eyes widening and back moderately straighter, you exchanged contact information and asked him to meet tomorrow so you can discuss more.

You had left the lecture shaken out of your fatigued stupor and felt a tinge of regret already. You barely know this man. All you knew was that his name was Geto Suguru, he’s in your class and will be your new roommate in the next couple of weeks. From what you had gathered from your brief interactions, he seemed like a normal person… at least you hoped so.

You knew he was well mannered. Remembering from the time you tripped over his foot, limbs flailing awkwardly - and how he’d lunged out, firmly grasping you by the waist to stop you from falling flat onto your face. As soon as you had steadied, he apologised profusely with slightly flushed cheeks and averted eyes.

He seemed well kept, his full, shoulder-length hair was never greasy or out of place. Either in a half-up bun or flowing freely, it was definitely a cause for envy. He dressed neatly, loose jeans or joggers with a plain tee or sweatshirt seemed to be his staples. Fingernails were slender - elegant, your sideways glances during lectures providing a view of his graceful, willowy hands. Long and dainty fingers gently tapping on the laptop in front of him.

All known factors considered, when it comes to roommates you seemed to have won the lottery. A quiet and respectful man seemed like a few in a dozen in this generation. How lucky were you!

The first few weeks were like a sort of honeymoon period. Sharing a space with someone you didn’t know was as awkward as you would think it would be. Small smiles when you ran into each other in the hallway and if you were feeling bold, some small talk over breakfast before your shared class.

The ice was breaking between the two of you as you slowly adapted around each others routines. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. You were getting more sleep due to the fact that you didn’t have to work as hard to pay your bills (thanks to your dual income) and actually felt like a human being for once.

Feeling human meant that a lot of additional needs had been forgone and most importantly your dormant libido had jumped back alive. That itself was nothing to write home about but it was more so how you came to this realisation which was.

It was 3 months prior, when you had left your room for a late night snack. Wrapped in your hello kitty throw, you softly pattered down the hall into the kitchen. Treats successfully acquired, you walked back into the hall and was greeted with a mass of steam flowing out from the bathroom, a tall figure emerging.

It was your room mate (duh) but in a way you had never had seen him before. His raven hair was deliciously tousled - the messiest you had ever seen it and...

it. was. beautiful.

The towel wrapped around his slight waist exposed his athletic build, deceptively slim but a slight flex allowed you to see the unbridled power hidden within. His ab definition was exemplified by the drops of water falling from the light smattering of hair trailing down to his deep cut V line.

He was absolutely stunning.

You were frozen for more than a few seconds, marvelling at the discovery of this new side to your roommate. He was… heavenly. You didn’t even realise Suguru had fully left the bathroom until you felt a warm gust of air as he swished past you, a drop of water splashing onto your face as he teasingly poked you. You sped back into the safety of your room and slammed the door. He had you salivating like a damn dog by just a flash of his upper body?? Yes, he may have looked good (a bit more than good actually) but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before.

Since that night, the dynamics of your relationship had imperceptibly changed. You couldn’t really describe how in a concise manner but Suguru had definitely changed. He was much more bold - seemingly doing everything in his power to make you flustered.

It first started with him wearing less and less clothes in the common areas of the house. You weren't completely unreasonable, leaving his room in just his red plaid PJ bottoms and those god forsaken bright pink bunny slippers could be excused. After all, this was his new home and you did want him to be comfortable. You just had to be mindful of not staring too long into his plump, juicy pectorals that were practically two small pillows that you could just face plant into. Not to mention the absolute dumptruck he was carrying from behind. During your dinners together (you always ended up cooking way more for yourself than needed), you really had to fight to keep your eyes fixed onto his face as he spoke and even then you’d find yourself being drawn further and further into his deep, purple eyes. Even his voice, calm, even and low was akin to a sirens call, causing you to be further and further enraptured with him.

Why couldn’t you just be normal about your roommate. You know plenty of people who houseshare with the opposite sex and it doesn’t seem to be as hard for them as it is for you. Maybe you just need a quick fuck? Something to get it out of your system so you can stop feeling like so…. lustful during the most regular exchanges.

It was hard to stop thinking thoughts like that when you would come home from a study group or be leaving early for a shift at the cafe to find Suguru slumped over the couch casually watching a telenovela or a 2000s sitcom. This normally would not be any kind of issue if for the fact he wasn’t practically naked par a grey set of loose Calvin Klein boxers.

The first time this happened you were almost late for work, your body physically refusing to move at the sight of his thick thighs, corded muscles tensing as he swung his legs down from resting on the cushion next to him and patted the space beside him - gesturing for you to sit. The soft smile on his face, eyes shut, eyebrows relaxed and seemingly in a state of inexplicable bliss for someone with 12 assignments due that week was all a bit too much for you to handle as you snapped out of your daze and rushed out of the door.

Suguru’s next ‘misstep’ was his use of almost all of your things and general disregard for personal space. He seemed to find joy in watching you put two and two together and realise that the reason why the whole house smells like Shea vanilla is because he “accidentally” used your body wash whilst bathing and so “just had to” grab the matching lotion, body oil and spray from your room - so he didn’t “smell confused”.

To think that this was the same man who was so quiet when he first moved in honestly is beyond human comprehension, his eyes crinkling shut as he laughed with genuine glee about how in the process of looking for the spray he tripped over your charging hitachi wand.

“Is my roommate feeling a bit pent up?” he drawled as he fake pouted, the tips of your ears burning at the fact that the object of your current infatuation knew about what you did in your… free time. “I was wondering what all that buzzing was last night.”

Suguru was comfortable at your shared house. Too comfortable. Which leads us to what happened today, what you considered to be the most egregious misstep by your roommate and would have made you so pissed if it hadn’t made you so wet.

It’s a Friday - nothing too crazy about that fact, it was just the week coming to an end. As your professor informs you of the upcoming assignments for the following week, Suguru leans down to tell you that he might be home a bit later than usual as he wanted to go to a friends houseparty. This isn’t anything too out of the ordinary, you knew that he was quite well known amongst the second years and as a result he was always flitting in and out the house midweek. You didn't really understand why he was specifically informing you of his whereabouts this time but you thanked him and made your way straight to coffee shop to start your shift.

Today was by far the hardest shift you’ve ever had, the sheer volume of people you had to serve and the few staff that were booked in to work. You were absolutely exhausted. You definitely were up for an orgasm or two to destress and your.. personal massager would be fully charged by the time you got home.

Clocked out at 7 and you were currently speed walking back to the house. A warm bath, filling meal and rewatching one of the telenovela’s Suguru had introduced to you sounded like an excellent plan. Just the action of running the bath, pouring the salts and soap and stripping off your stiff uniform silenced all the noise in your mind - you could truly feel the tension rolling off your body as you eased into the bathtub.

After an hour long soak, you made a wholesome pasta dish and binge watched TV until you started to feel your eyelids drooping shut as the day begun to catch up with you. You dragged yourself to your room, the silk sheets and quilted comforter lulling your weary body to a sweet, sweet slumber.

That was until… 1.27am according to your bedside clock. The loud bang of the front door shook you awake but it’s what you heard next that kept you up.

A bang on the hallway wall and what sounded like... kissing? Sloppy and heated, you could hear the mewls and whines of a woman coupled by occasional groans from what had to be… your roommate?

Footsteps got louder and louder until you could hear them through the shared wall between your rooms. The bed creaked as it hit the bedroom wall and you could hear the low murmur of your roommate’s voice. Almost instinctually, you carefully raised yourself up from the bed and pressed your ear to the wall to hear better.

“You’re going to take allllll of it, okay?” Suguru said lowly, the woman giggling as he retorted “Don’t get shy with me now. We both know you were begging for it.”

You knew what you were doing was fucked up. How could you keep eavesdropping on your roommate fucking another girl but somehow you were unable to tell your body, warmth pooling in your core.

The soft thud of clothes hitting the ground was accompanied by the rejoining of the pair, the loud kissing and sounds of scattered bedsheets made you ponder. This was the first time you had ever heard Suguru do anything remotely sexual. He made jokes (mainly to your demerit) about the apparent lack of sex and I mean, you appreciated that he respected the space that the two of you shared by not always having people over or at least doing it when you weren’t home but part of you just innately knew that he wasn’t seeing anyone - serious or casual. That’s why this is so unexpected.. but not unwanted.

See, it had interrupted your much needed sleep but you couldn’t deny how horny this was making you. The fact that you could hear what it would be like to fuck your roommate and the added taboo of him not knowing you could hear - you were almost soaked in your own essence, a hand snaking down to your pyjama bottoms so that you could alleviate some of your pent-up tension.

“Open your mouth” Suguru demanded. A slight pause in movements as you heard what must have been a fat, wad of his saliva splash into the woman’s mouth. “Good girl” he cooed, the woman moaning back in pure, unadulterated need.

You stifled your own whine, the delicious pressure of your fingertips on your swollen nub combined with your roommates filthy, sinful words had you so close. The woman gasped at what you can only imagine being Suguru finally pulling down those grey boxers. Another splash and a steady, slick rhythm began - probably Suguru stroking himself, long slender fingers wrapping tight around his base dragging his hand right up to the tip, thumb swirling to collect any pre-cum to lubricate his shaft even more.

“Please..” the woman pleaded. “Please what?” Suguru chided “If you are going to beg at least beg properly”. “Please..please put it in” she mumbled. “You’re still not asking properly but” A loud squelch and the woman’s even louder moan interrupted Suguru’s almost lazy drawl. He seemed so relaxed, responding back as if he himself didn’t want this as bad as she did. “I’m in a good mood so I’ll do as you wish” he punctuated his sentence with a sharp thrust, the already worn bed frame jolting into the wall as he fully buried himself into this woman.

Her mewls seemed to get even higher and higher in pitch as the two established a steady rhythm. Hand firmly placed along your slit, you toyed with oozing entrance and sensitive clit - middle and ring finger prodding into your hole, scissoring and feeling your inner walls. You gathered some more of your essence and spread it onto your thumb, applying more and more pressure as you swirled your bud. It was like you were in a freaked out flow state, your mind purely focused on achieving that high. You tuned out the shrieks of the other woman and honed in on your roommates low grunts, imaging how tense his abs would be from the sheer effort he would be putting, arms caged around you in missionary as he just plowed straight into you until you both came.

The bed creaks became more and more frequent, your hand moving faster and faster as you heard the woman cry out one last time and start sobbing. It seemed your roommate had slowed down slightly, close himself as the thrusts became more slow and tempered not hitting the wall as loudly. You were so so close, focusing on deep breathing to slow it down so that you could come undone at the same time as him.

As he got close himself, you could hear some sort of low rumble… was he.. whining? You could also hear his murmured praises to his partner “You did so good… thank you so much… your so pretty…ngh.. all…urghh….fucked out…mffh.. like this”. He seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth, so close to the edge. Even though you knew he wasn’t talking to you, all the words just melted into your brain adding to your dazed, enraptured state. You couldn’t hold out any longer, fingers moving into overdrive as you reached your peak and fell head first into the mind-numbing pleasure of release as you heard Suguru’s muffled cry as he came.

As the static from your ears started to clear and you were finally able to come back to earth from that earth-shattering orgasm, you could hear a slightly more heated conversation happening in the adjoined room.

“What the fuck was that” the woman whisper shouted while pulling on her clothes. “What the fuck do I know??” puffed your roommate as he seemed to pace around the room. “You just groaned another girls name as you came Suguru. That’s fucked up.. Seriously?” You could practically hear the sheepish look on his face as the door banged for a second that night.

How can he moan another girls name whilst he’s balls deep inside of her? I mean thinking back you may have heard him say your name but that was just because you were in a freaked out flow state, right?… right?

And that’s why at 3.09am you had come to the solid conclusion that you hated Geto Suguru. He was obnoxious, used your stuff AND had the cheek to mock you for what’s in your room but most importantly he fucked a girl and said your name whilst he came. Not only did he hurt this poor girl but he left you even more confused. Where do you even go from here? Did he know you heard the whole thing? Even if he did what does this change? Your hot roommate maybe does want to pipe you? This should be a good thing but for some reason you know it’s going to be more complicated than that...

part 2

a/n *:･ﾟ✧♡ :: credits to @/cafekitsune for the dividers! part 2 shld be done by the 10th (no promises 😭) but i lowk do want to drag it out to a three parter.

likes and reblogs make me squirt!

#kenzieluvssuguru #kenzieluvs #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen suguru

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starlightxsvt · 1 month

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When A Villainess Loves | c.sc

synopsis ➳ four years of obsessing over him. so what if he is taken. you don't mind being the villainess if it means you get to have him in the end. genre ➳ chaebol au, thriller, dark romance. pairing ➳ heir!seungcheol x villainess!f.reader wc ➳ 19.4k warnings ➳ manipulation, blackmail, cheating, guns, blood, destruction of evidence, murder, death of minor characters, cursing, accident, scarring, adoption, heavy make out, fingering, marking, every character is corrupt more or less basically, also for plot purposes reader's last name is kim.

pick your poison babe

i'm poison either way

When you met Choi Seungcheol for the very first time, you were 13 years old.

One sunny afternoon, while making your way to your grandpa’s study with your homework clutched to your chest, you were graced by the sight of him. He was stepping out of the room after meeting with your grandpa when the sound of your footsteps prompted him to stop and regard you with curiosity, head tilted to a side. He was only 18 back then, full of dreams and passion as he prepared to move abroad to finish his degree before returning home to inherit his father’s company.

“Hey,” he had said, unsurely. With a squeak, you ran away and hid in a nearby room, too shy to talk with a stranger. You remember him standing there for a moment, confused by your behaviour before slowly walking away with a shake of his head.

The second time you saw Seungcheol, you were 18 years old, five years after your first meeting. He had come back after finishing his degree and was preparing to take over his father's billion-dollar company. In celebration, Mr Choi threw a party inviting all his family and friends and since your grandfather was one of his oldest business partners, it was natural for you to be invited with him.

It was that fateful winter evening when you fell in love with Seungcheol for the very first time.

In all 18 years of your existence, dating never interested you. You preferred to keep to yourself, read and spend time with your grandpa. You had realized early on that observing and judging people was much more interesting than talking to them. Especially because no one could ever resist asking you about the big scar on your left cheek. It was irritating; the prodding gaze of strangers who stared at your scar with wonder, treating you like a science experiment. So it wasn’t surprising for you to grow up without having many friends. You didn’t need them anyway, you had your grandpa.

Life was mostly uneventful and you did not mind having it that way. But then, at 18, when you caught a glimpse of Seungcheol and the man he had become, you realized, your life would never be the same. The sight of him had thrown your heart into a frenzy, one you could never recover from.

Gone was the lean young boy with bright eyes and messy hair. In his place was a calm but serious man who knew how to command a room with just his presence. Everything about him; the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he brushed his hand through his slick black hair, the way his suit hugged his muscular frame made your stomach dip and heart throb.

That evening, your sole focus was him, following him around the party with your eager eyes but too shy to go and talk to him. You remember uttering one word to him when he was talking to your grandfather and his eyes landed on you.

“Congratulations.” You had said, giving him your best smile while your stomach was tied up in knots.

He gave you a small smile and a nod before looking away but that little interaction was enough for you to fall head first for him and fill your long nights with dreams.

“He has grown up to be a fine man, no? Choi Corporation is in very good hands.” Your grandpa had commented.

You had to agree.

Seungcheol was a fine man, the finest you had ever seen. So fine that the thoughts of him kept you awake at night, the memory of his smile filled your stomach with butterflies and made you want to write poetry about.

You had decided right then and there that you would make friends with him, grow close to him. It would have been easy to do since his father and your grandpa were already close.

Your plan began with you scouring the net, trying to find every possible information about him and the things that you could not find, you would discreetly ask your grandpa. You were going to set your plan in motion by visiting the golf ring where Seungcheol regularly golfed on weekends. On a Friday night in early February, as you were laying your golf outfit out for the next day with childish excitement, your grandpa came into your room to give you the worst news of your life.

Seungcheol was getting engaged that Sunday.

To the only daughter of Lee Media, the country's biggest media company. The holy union was agreed upon by the elders of the family since it was beneficial for both parties and most importantly, the heirs had no objection. They grew up in each other's presence anyway.

Even worse, after the engagement, Seungcheol was moving to Hong Kong to better oversee the company business and when he was to return, the marriage would take place.

That news would have made any normal person give up. It would have brought them back to their senses and forced them to focus on their own life.

You, however, did not.

Overnight, you were a changed woman.

You attended his engagement party with a smile on your face and watched as he put the ring on that disgustingly beautiful woman’s finger. That day too you spoke to him briefly, congratulating him on his engagement and wishing him luck for his work abroad. With his fiancee, Sumin Lee, you talked plenty; initiating the conversation by introducing yourself and carrying it on by complimenting her dress and her ring. You did not miss the way her gaze would repeatedly fall on your scar, judgment and questions flashing in her eyes. Something was unsettling about that woman, something in the look of her eyes that made you want to scream and warn Seungcheol to stay away.

You could not do that, of course.

Instead, you said goodbye to the man you loved and let him leave.

Your game began after that.

You played the first move by getting his number from your grandpa and texting him once he had left.

Hi, it's ____. Hope you have reached safely.

That was the first text you had sent him.

When he replied, you struck up a conversation, asking for recommendations for golf sticks since you wanted to get into golfing. The rest was surprisingly easy. You bonded with him over golf even though in reality you could not give two shits about that boring sport. The conversations flowed naturally and you always made sure it keep things casual, asking for recommendations and advice on anything and everything as if he were a brother to you.

And like that, four years has gone by.

You started living a life completely different from the one you had envisioned for yourself.

Once upon a time, you wanted to be a librarian. You had no interest in overtaking your grandpa’s business and he had accepted that. In the last few years, however, your previous notion changed. You realized that you needed to take over the company and actually get on the field to continue playing the game you were enjoying. Your grandpa was dubious at first but for the last two years, you have been in the position of the vice president of Kim Associations and you must admit, you have been performing beyond what you thought you were capable of. Your grandpa, who has been extremely pleased with your work, resigned a little while ago and assured you of your capabilities to take over.

And finally, today is the day.

Your inauguration ceremony which will officially mark the beginning of your journey as the president of Kim Associations.

“Are you ready, madam? The guests are all here.” Your assistant’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You blink, refocusing your attention on your reflection in the mirror. Combing your fingers through the strands of your hair that have been perfectly styled, you speak, “I’ll be out in a second, Yuna.”

“Yes, madam.” The door shuts quietly behind her.

Sucking in a deep breath, you stand up, carefully scanning your outfit in the mirror one last time. Pleased with how the white blazer and pants look on you, you strut out of the dressing room and into the hallway leading to the grand room where the guests await.

As soon as you can get over with the boring ceremony, you can move on to the bigger tasks. Seungcheol is supposed to return home this month which means your time is running out. As soon as he is here, the preparations for marriage will start and you cannot let that happen. You must act fast.

With the ending of your acceptance speech, you step down from the podium, slightly woozy because of the continuous camera flashes. Yuna holds out a bottle of water for you to take a quick sip. As you screw the lid closed, your eyes wander over the room before stopping.

A small gasp parts your lips.

On the other side of the hall, you see Seungcheol talking to your grandpa.

As if sensing your stare he turns his head and his gaze matches yours. A beautiful smile sits on his lips, his eyes shining as he starts heading towards you with a large bouquet of flowers resting on his arm.

Time slows down, and everything around you fades into background noise. Breathlessly, you watch him, soaking in every minuscule detail and committing them to your memory. And lord, is he a vision. Dressed in a three piece grey suit, his freshly styled hair and his blinding smile, you briefly wonder if he is a fragment of your imagination.

You blink a couple of times to snap yourself back to reality before schooling your expression as he stands in front of you.

“Congratulations, President Kim.” He grins, cheeky and proud as he offers you the comically large bouquet.

A huge smile kisses your lips as you accept the flowers. “Seungcheol, I am very pleasantly surprised.”

“That was the intention.” He laughs and it is then that you notice a figure standing right behind him.

It is Sumin, of course, standing next to him with a plastic smile as she congratulates you.

Your mood sours but you don’t let it show.

“You were supposed to return later this month, no?” You peer inquisitively at your love.

“What can I say, business finished early.” He shrugs.

“Which is good because we have a wedding to plan, no honey?” Sumin slings her arms through his as she throws a flirty smile at him. His hand rests on hers and your blood boils.

“Of course.” Your smile is so fake your cheeks hurt. “It was lovely to see you, Seungcheol. I have some investors waiting over there for me. We will catch up later, okay?”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

You push past Sumin, immediately dropping the fake smile as your fingers grip the stem of the flowers in a chokehold.

One week passes by and you fail to make time to catch up with Seungcheol— one-on-one at least. As the new president, piles of work awaited you every day at the office that you had to get through. With the very little free time you had after work, you would text Seungcheol only to get a reply that he was busy preparing for the wedding or visiting his in-laws.

Tonight you were invited to dinner by Seungcheol’s father as he held a small dinner for his close friends and family. You went with the hopes of seeing Seungcheol which were quickly crushed after your arrival. Turns out he and Sumin were out of town for whatever reason and would be running late. The sight of Sumin’s family making themselves comfortable and their boisterous attitude prompted you to leave as soon as dinner was over.

Another bad day has come to an end.

You lie in your bed, wide awake even though it is well past midnight. The work that waits for you in the day ahead along with another myriad of meetings overwhelms you. Your grandpa has not been feeling well so you need to visit him. Plus, there is this tiny issue of Seungcheol getting married to Sumin. You are not sure how you should approach this issue. Creating a scandal is always a good idea but that would end up harming the man you love. Of course, there is always another option…

One thought leads to another which leads you to sleep. At the crack of dawn, you are jolted out of your sleep by what you first think is your alarm. Then you fathom it is your phone ringing.

The caller is the caretaker who lives with your grandpa.

With your heart suddenly beating like you just ran a marathon, you pick up the phone.

“Miss Kim, your grandfather had a stroke. We are on the way to the hospital.”

The next few hours are a blur.

You have long lost your sense of time. After what feels like ages since you reached the hospital, you find yourself, along with some relatives, sitting in a sterile waiting room, the walls bleak and grey.

The clock on the wall reads ten in the morning. No sunlight peeks through, however, because there are no windows where you sit.

“You should have something to eat,” your secretary quietly suggests standing next to you. Her words reach your ears but you fail to register them, staring blankly at the floor.

Life without your grandpa sounds weird. He is the only person on this planet you love and trust unconditionally, the only person who understands and loves you the same way you love him.

He cannot just die, can he?

A while later, you don’t know how long, the doctor comes to give a briefing about the patient's health. He says a lot of words which can be summarized as this: your grandfather had a stroke that caused him to fall into a sleep-like state. When he will wake up from this coma is unknown, it could be days, it could be months. For now, his condition is stable and you can only pray it stays the same.

And just like that, there is a sudden shift in your life as you fall into a new routine. Working from dawn to dusk and then spending the evenings next to your comatose grandpa, holding his hand and hoping he would wake up. People come to visit, including the Chois. On the first day that Seungcheol visited, you shed a tear in his embrace before returning to your hollow, expressionless self. Soon, days blend into weeks which transform into a month.

You start becoming more accepting of your reality. A part of you wonders if this is how your grandpa is preparing you to live a life without him. He has always been in your life as a protective shadow since he adopted you at the age of ten. A car crash took your parents away from you when you were very young, so you never missed them. Your memories of your early childhood are next to non existent but after being adopted, every day was something worth remembering. A kind stranger welcomed you with open arms and legally became your grandfather. He was so much more than just a grandfather, though. He was akin to your parents, a best friend, a guardian.

How does one cope with losing such a precious person?

Life sure will not be fun without him judging from the rumours that you hear going around your company. The way the board of directors and shareholders keep hinting that you may be an unfit candidate to rule over the company in the absence of an experienced man like your grandpa.

Why? Because you are young and unmarried.

How sensible that sounds.

While you may not be getting married any time soon, Seungcheol definitely is. His wedding with Sumin is set in exactly three months which does not leave you with much time on your hands. Your grandpa’s collapse was a momentary distraction but at the same time, it was a learning experience. People started showing their true colours and it helped you come to a decision.

You will play the long game and you will hit two birds with one stone.

The villa where Sumin’s party is taking place is situated a little outside the city.

She has recently launched her own clothing line with the money given by her in-laws as a pre-wedding gift but that part is a secret to the public.

It is almost dinner time when you arrive and the party is in full swing with the music blasting and people covering almost every place of the villa. The place is mainly littered with influencers and models and you recognize a few familiar faces who approach you first to say hi.

You see Sumin skirting around, talking to people animatedly, posing for pictures and ordering the staff around. She has not noticed you come in but you do not mind. You will be seeing her personally very soon.

Dinner finishes and you start saying your goodbyes, using a headache as your excuse. After ensuring everything is set and your plan is successfully in motion you head for the abandoned factory located about a couple hundred meters behind the villa. The place is quiet and poorly lit but best of all, it is a place without any CCTV cameras. People never bother to come here, one because it is an abandoned, dusty factory and two, it ends in a dead end which is also a junkyard pile.

The watch on your wrist reads five minutes to ten thirty which means Sumin will be here anytime soon.

You wait for her under the only lit lamppost in the area, watching the bugs fly around the light before fixing your wandering gaze on the autumn night sky, the faded echoes of the music from the party your background noise. The sky is glittering with stars tonight, you observe.

“Hello?”

The sudden female voice makes you turn around.

Sumin is standing there with a confused look which quickly morphs into caution when she sees you. “So it was you? You asked me to come here?” She questions with a hint of annoyance as she holds up the note you left for her at the dinner table.

Come to the junkyard at ten thirty. If you tell anyone about this it will be very bad for you.

Your reply is a sweet smile which you know will aggravate her.

“Seriously, I don’t have time for your games. I have a party to get back to.” She huffs, crumpling your note and throwing it down to the ground.

“Of course you do,” you nod, stepping closer to her. She waits for you to elaborate but you deny her the pleasure, instead observing her with a mysterious smile. Her petite, thin frame is drowning in an unbuttoned pink fur jacket. Underneath that, she is dressed in a glittery pastel pink crop top and a matching mini skirt with knee-high boots. As if that wasn’t enough glitter, her eyeshadow and her brown hair are equally shining in glitter.

Life must be so fun for her.

“Hello? Care to explain why you brought me out here?” Sumin snaps two fingers before crossing her hands over her chest, and tapping the tip of her heel on the concrete.

You release a deep sigh before looking her straight in the eye. “Break up with Seungcheol.”

She blinks three times as she processes your words before letting out the biggest scoff of amusement. “Come again?”

“You heard me. Break up with him while I’m asking nicely.”

Sumin appears only more flabbergasted which she expresses with a high-pitched laughter bubbling up from her throat. “The audacity you have! Coming to my party and then calling me here with a threatening note only to tell me to break up with my fiance? Holy shit, you really are crazy!”

You silently watch her with your arms crossed, unamused.

Her expression only grows brighter, lighting up with elation as if she just solved the world’s biggest mystery. “I wasn’t wrong! From the day I first saw you at my engagement party, I knew something was up with you. Your eyes were always following Seungcheol! You are delusional, thinking you can take him from me. Even if I break up with him, do you think he would take you as his wife? He treats you like a sister— no no, I’m being too kind. He tolerates you! You are a pesky little ant that keeps bothering him but he is kind enough not to crush you! You are so fucking unbelievable, ___.”

You warned her, she did not listen. Time to bring out the big guns.

Reaching into your handbag, you pull out a small rectangular envelope before tossing it to the ground in front of her.

“What is it?” Sumin asks, raising an annoyed brow. You remain mute as you wait for her to pick it up. With a huff, she does so as she pries it open and pulls out the photos stacked inside. After flipping through only two of them, the colour drains from her face as she screams and drops them all from her hands.

“You! You bitch! Where did you get them from?” Sumin’s eyes are as wide as saucers accompanied by a look of sheer panic on her face that brings you immense joy.

“Oh sweet Sumin,” You smirk. “You should be careful when having an affair behind your fiancee’s back. You are a chaebol, after all. People are always watching.”

“You psychopath!” She hisses, marching towards you. In a fit of wild rage, she grabs you by the collar and screams. “You think you can get away with blackmailing me! I am the future wife of the Choi Corporation’s president. Everyone will believe me. I can just claim those are fake and you are doing this out of jealousy!”

You cannot stifle a chuckle. Calmly, you grab her hands and hold them tight as you challenge, “Sumin, you are awfully noisy for a cheater. You know I can just send these to the press, right? No matter what your truth is, they are going to eat it up. Your reputation will forever be ruined along with Seungcheol’s. Do you think the Chois would let that happen? They would cut you off immediately.”

“You!” Sumin’s frustrated cry pierces the night silence. “You fucking scarred bitch! I will fucking kill you! Do you think my father would just let you go?”

You smirk. Gripping her hands tightly, you pry them off your collars before shoving her away. “You don’t get to touch me, you scheming cunt.”

Sumin stumbles back a few strides when you start taking slow steps towards her, your hands resting behind your back almost as if you were out on an afternoon stroll. A new look of horror sets on her face when you come closer and whisper in her ear, “I know that your daddy is broke. He has barely been keeping his company together for the last three years. The only reason you are marrying Seungcheol is so you can get half of his money and save yourself.”

A shaky breath comes out of her lips as Sumin steps back from you, her figure trembling. You smile, taking another step closer to her. “I also know the things your daddy did to keep this secret from getting out. But imagine what the Chois would do when they discover that your family— a bunch of thugs, was planning to use them from the very beginning. Partnership? Ha— That was never your intention. You just wanted to take advantage of Seungcheol and his company.”

Sumin keeps looking at you, eyes wide and full of disbelief, panting heavily. Her eyes are the personification of loathing and it creates a sense of achievement so big within you, you feel like bursting.

You have seen enough of her drama.

Stepping even closer to her, you sneer. “Break up with Seungcheol before I ruin you and your entire family to the ground.”

“Never!” She yells, taking you by surprise and shoving you down onto the ground. The hard concrete scrapes your palms which you use to brace yourself, leaving behind a sharp sting.

“I am not going to break up with him! Choi Seungcheol is mine, you beast! My father may be bankrupt now but you don’t know what we are still capable of. We have gotten rid of insects like you many times before. It won’t be hard to shut your mouth forever, you bitch!” She hisses, looking down at you.

You roll your eyes, dusting off the dirt from your palms.

“If I were afraid of dying I never would have joined this game, Sumin.”

She sputters, gritting her teeth, eyes shining with tears of frustration, her hands forming fists. She glares at you for a long moment and you can see the gears shifting in her head through her expression as she gradually composes herself before looking down at the ground, shaking her head and laughing. “That is alright. I will start with your grandfather, then.”

The blood in your veins runs ice cold, making you suddenly grow stiff.

She continues to laugh. “That old man is already on life support. It won’t be abnormal if he dies suddenly, will it? Right now, in fact?’’ She grins, pulling out her mobile and teasingly shaking it in her hand. “What do you say? Should I make a call? Show you how easy it is for me?’’

You breathe in and out sharply, your hands forming fists at your sides. Before you can open your mouth, she continues.

“Oh right! I forgot something important. Before I kill him, you should know a secret, ___.”

You remain rooted to your spot, glaring at her. She grins. “Your grandfather, Kim Han Oh? He is your real grandfather, not a kind old man who happened to see you one day and adopted you.”

What?

A scoff of disbelief falls from your lips. “The fear of being exposed has made you crazy, no? You’re saying anything now.” You sigh, standing up and shaking off the dust from your clothes, almost feeling pity for the girl. There is no way she could be serious right now.

Sumin’s lips break into a larger grin as she slowly moves closer to you, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Oh, poor you! You know nothing, sweetheart. Kim Han Oh is your real grandfather. You are connected by blood. But that is not even the best part.” She stops to let out a giggle. “The best part is, you ended up in that orphanage because of him.”

In the eerie stillness of the night, the only sound is the sharp intake of your breath as your body grows stiff. “You are lying.” Your breath comes out uneven.

You wish your words came out stronger.

“Oh, ___. I wish I were. Your father had you out of wedlock. Your mother was a waitress at a bar when she met your father. When you were 3 years old, he finally decided to confess to your grandfather about his secret family, hoping he would accept you and your mom. He never did. He kicked you three out of his house and while returning from his place, the accident occurred.” Sumin pauses, inspecting your behaviour carefully. She tilts her chin up, pointing to your face, “That scar marring your face? You got it because of him, sweetheart.”

By now, your entire world has collapsed as your body starts shutting down, making your vision blurry as you lose your footing. You choke on your breath, trying to form words of disagreement which comes out as a pathetic whimper. Your hands search pointlessly for something to hold onto and with nothing around you, you fall back down on the ground, panting harshly.

The dim ray of the street light falling over you gets blocked by Sumin as she towers over you with a fiendish smile of victory. Sitting in front of you, she places one knee on the ground and rests her hand on the other.

“It hurts, right? It will hurt more when I tell you that the Choi family is aware of this as well.”

Your eyes fly to her face, wide with alarm and despair.

“That’s right, they know what a filthy, low-born you are. Discarded by your grandfather and then taken back out of pity.” Her words are pure venom, each one hurting more than the last. “You prance around thinking you are the queen of the world, chosen among others because you have something special but in reality, you are a disgusting mutt who does not know her place.”

You cough which morphs into a sob as tears start to blur your vision.

This is not how this was supposed to go.

“How dare you,” Sumin breathes, reaching out her claws to tuck a piece of stray hair behind your ear, “even think of touching Seungcheol, hm? He is mine. Even if I fuck ten guys behind his back, he would choose me any day over someone like you.”

“Shut up!” You cry out.

Sumin chuckles. “You should not have poked your filthy nose in my business, ____. I have ruined you with just my words, now watch as I ruin Seungcheol right in front of you.”

“No!” You hiss, clutching her shoulders. She pries your hands off. “Oh yes. I will marry him and I will destroy him and everything he holds dear. Why? Because I can. Because this is my payback for thinking you can mess with me!”

Pushing you away, she stands up, giving you one last look of victory before marching away, the heels of her boots leaving behind echoes of mockery as you pant harshly.

At the last moment, you call out. “Sumin?’’

She turns around. “Ugh, what now—”

A gun goes off.

If there was no silencer, the haunting echo would ripple through the night air. In its absence, there is a small click followed by an eerie stillness as Sumin drops to the ground, falling on her side with a clean bullet hole sitting on her forehead.

Lowering the gun in your hand, you wipe your tears and stand up. Your handbag lies on the ground haphazardly and you pick it up, putting the gun inside like it was when you came here.

With a heavy sigh, you walk towards where her body lies and watch her remain still, looking at you with the blankest pair of eyes as rivulets of blood flow down her temple.

Surprisingly, you do not feel any remorse. For one second, before pulling the trigger, you hesitated, thinking this decision would come back to haunt you. Now, in the beautiful silence of the night, you do not. Somewhere deep down, you knew this was inevitable, hence you brought the gun.

“You should not have underestimated me if you knew where I came from. Filthy people like me will do filthy things for the people we love. We are villains.” You sigh. “Rest in peace, Sumin.”

You spare one last look at her before walking away from the scene, picking up the photos and the note she dropped earlier on the ground along your way.

Morning comes faster than anticipated.

As soon as you come downstairs after waking up, you find your secretary waiting for you with her tablet in her hands, standing at her usual spot even though it is the weekend. The look, however, on her face immediately tells you that the news of Sumin’s death has spread. Schooling your expression, you cross the stairs, heading straight for the kitchen. “Morning, Yuna. Is today not a Saturday?”

“Yes, madam. But…” She hesitates. “Did you hear the news?’’

“What news?” You pick up a glass of orange juice and sip on it.

“Sumin was murdered. Kim Sumin.”

You widen your eyes, setting down the glass with a loud clank. “What?’’

“Yes,” Yuna fidgets as she steps closer to you, eyes shining with mischief as if she is about to share a big secret. “Last night. Apparently, she was shot in the head. The Lees and Chois have given out special orders. No news outlet knows the details of her murder. It is being kept under wraps.”

“I see. How unfortunate,” You stare at the ground before going back to finish your juice.

“Since she was murdered last night while the party was ongoing, the police will be questioning all the attendees. You will also get a call sometime soon.”

“Hm, I left early so I won’t be much help but sure.” You pretend to be absent-minded. “Anyway, is there anything in my schedule today?’’

Yuna opens her mouth to speak but you get her off with a raise of your hand, “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Cancel it. I need to visit Seungcheol and see how he is doing. He should be at home, no?”

“Yes, madam.”

There is a sort of eerieness in the air when you step inside Seungcheol’s mansion. A mais greets you, announcing that Seungcheol is busy seeing a visitor in his study. You lie, telling her he is already expecting you and march towards his room, your heels clicking against the marble floor. You ponder whether it is your imagination that makes his otherwise magnificent home look dull. Maybe it is because of the dark weather outside along with the empty hallways and the lack of usual decorative lights that cast this entire place with a bleak, grey spell. It feels like you have entered the haunted castle of a prince mourning the death of his lover.

If only he knew she was not a lover but a witch.

The voices inside Seungcheol’s study are loud and frustrated enough that you can hear them from the outside quite clearly. Standing in front of the wooden double doors, you lean closer and easily identify Sumin’s father’s voice as he yells. “I need to know who is behind this as soon as possible!”

“Trust me when I say that I will get to the bottom of this.” Replies Seungcheol. “The one who killed her is also an enemy of the Choi family.”

How dramatic.

You roll your eyes. Would he feel the same if he knew what she was doing behind his back?

“That is why I am telling you to trust me. You cannot make rash decisions now. I have employed a good friend of mine as the leading officer in this case. The truth will be out sooner or later.”

“It should be out soon! The bastard ruined us! He killed my daughter and ruined this entire family!” The old man keeps yelling.

You smirk.

It is a she.

He keeps going on about giving his trust to the Chois and telling Seungcheol that he has his full faith in him. You cannot help shaking your head in mirth. Of course, Mr. Lee will say that. He knows that the less he is involved in the investigation, the better because otherwise, all his dirty secrets will be uncovered. He just needs to act like a devastated father and let his daughter’s fiance take care of it.

As you sense their conversation coming to an end, you walk back a few steps, pretending as if you just arrived and are about to make your way inside. The door to the study opens as Mr. Lee steps out, frustrated, murmuring something under his breath. He does not look to be grieving at all which is not a surprise for you. You knew very well that Sumin was only a tool to get him what he wanted, money.

You greet him with a sad expression but he is too busy thinking to himself that he absentmindedly sends a nod your way before marching away.

Once again, you grin.

The entire situation keeps getting more hilarious.

With a deep breath, you take a moment to compose yourself before pushing the door and stepping inside his study. Seungcheol who was staring out the window with his hands on his hips turns around as he hears you step inside.

“___?” He is surprised.

Your heart skips a beat as his eyes meet yours. He looks beat down, like he did not get any sleep the whole night, his appearance dishevelled. His white shirt is crinkled, folded messily up to his arms, his hair unstyled and the slightest dust of stubble covering his chin. A glass of half-drunk whiskey sits on his desk.

For one horrible moment, you wonder if he loved Sumin. That would not be possible, this marriage was only a business deal.

“Hey,” You give him a sad smile which comes out genuinely. Stepping closer to him, you pull him in a gentle hug. “I heard the news this morning. I am so sorry.”

Seungcheol nods, reaching for the drink and finishing it in one go.

“Does the police have any leads?”

“No.” He grunts. “It is quite almost the perfect crime.”

Oh my.

“What do you mean?”

“There is no CCTV footage. It was a blind spot that remained empty most of the time. Sumin did not receive any text messages and there is nothing on her phone that indicates any threats. The last footage of her is her leaving the party by herself and walking towards the abandoned factory. The crime scene was also clean as hell. There are no signs of struggle and the gun is yet to be found.” He grows more frustrated with each word.

You reach to rub his arm soothingly, “Give them some time, I am sure they will find something.”

“I fucking hope so.” He sighs, rubbing his face with his palms.

A grim pause settles in the air and it slowly becomes unnerving. You promptly ask, “Seungcheol?”

“Hm?’’ You calling his name brings him out of his head and makes him turn around to face you properly.

For a horrible moment, your throat closes up.

As you look into his eyes, flashbacks of the previous night come to you in tsunami waves as you feel yourself slipping into an endless pit.

You have tried your level best to keep the things Sumin revealed yesterday out of your mind but when you look at Seungcheol, a loathsome sense of betrayal overtakes you. At the same time, there is fear. You are terrified that the look in your eyes gives you away, telling him about the crime you committed last night.

It is all-consuming, paralyzing.

Amid the battle of words and thoughts inside your mind, you end up asking, “Did you love her?”

He frowns.

You hold your breath, watching and waiting. A look of offence seems to cover his face and you hate it. He should be saying that he did not love her, they were in an agreement of convenience and she was like a friend to him.

“Why do you ask?’’

You shrug, “No reason. I was just curious. I wonder what it feels like to lose a loved one.” You look away, putting on a face of ponder.

Seungcheol remains silent and you start accepting your defeat, realising he probably fell in love with her.

What a horrible sensation.

“I was not in love with her if that is what you are asking. I was comfortable with her like a friend and I was happy to share my future with her. She was nice and kind and beautiful, so somewhere along the line I saw myself falling for her.”

For some reason, his words hurt more, despite him saying he is not in love with her. You detest that look in his eyes, a look that says he has transported back in time and is remembering her with fondness that you wish he would feel for you.

“I see,” you whisper. “Anyhow, I hope you find her killer. If you need any help, I am here.”

“Thanks,” he nods. “The police will probably drop by sometime to ask general questions.”

“Hm, I am happy to help even though I am not sure how helpful I can be.”

“It is just general procedure, so don't worry about it.”

“I am not.” You smile.

The next afternoon an officer in plain clothes pays a visit to your office. You have been expecting it and you welcome him in your space, offering him a seat on the large couch in the middle of your office room. As you sit down in front of him, an assistant brings two cups of tea before leaving you two alone in a room of silence minus the ticking of the clock.

The officer begins. “I am Sergeant Thomas. You probably know why I am here.”

“Yes, sergeant, I am aware.”

“Right.” He nods before producing a small notebook and a pen from his pocket.

“So this is a basic procedure. Please try to remember as many details as possible.”

“I will try my best,” You nod, crossing one leg over the other.

“Did you talk to the victim on the night of her murder?’’

“No. I arrived late and left early. Besides, she was already very busy talking to everyone.” Truth.

“Did you see anything different about her? Like she was uncomfortable or scared?’’

“No, she seemed to be her normal bubbly self.” Truth.

“Did anything unusual happen at the party?”

“Unusual?”

“Maybe any argument or fight? Between any of the attendees?” He shrugs.

“No, nothing like that.” You shake your head.

He nods. “And when did you leave the party?”

“Around 9.45 pm.” Lie.

“Why did you leave early?’’

“I had a long work day and a headache was creeping up on me.” Lie.

“Right,” he nods, jotting something down in his notebook. “And when you were leaving did you see anyone suspicious around the area?”

“Not that I remember of, no.”

“Did you see the victim outside? Maybe with someone or by herself?”

“No.”

The officer sighs loudly. “I guess that covers it.”

A smile creeps on your lips but you cover it by offering him a sympathetic look. “I suppose you have not found many leads yet.”

“Unfortunately so,” the man nods, sipping his tea. “This will be a tough case to break.”

You shift in your seat, “How did she die, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“She was shot in the head.”

You gasp, covering your mouth. “Oh no.”

He nods. “Thank you for your time, President Kim. If you remember anything else please contact me.” He stands up, holding out his card. You take it with a nod. “I will sergeant, thank you.”

“Good day, then.” He sends a nod your way before walking out of your office.

You watch him leave with a diabolic smile before crumpling his card and throwing it in the trash, heaving out a loud sigh.

Level one completed successfully.

2 months later

Life is mundane.

With your grandpa still being comatose and the investigation of Sumin’s murder coming to a standstill due to the lack of evidence, there is nothing to keep you on your toes.

With the lapse of time, you had grown to be indifferent about everything.

Until now, when debates have sparked about Seungcheol’s capability to lead the Choi Corporation. Finally, the time has come for you to make your second move. They have been facing a hard time, wavering stock prices and a heavy debate over being in favour or against Seungcheol as the company’s head. With Sumin’s murder and the end of the union with Lee Media, things are extremely unstable as the power-hungry board of trustees deems him unsuitable to lead the company. Not to mention rumours have been going around stating that the Choi family was behind Sumin’s murder.

Now is the perfect time to start working on the second half of your plan. You have been helping them secure investments, regularly sitting for meetings with Seungcheol and his dad to plan new projects. Your plan can now be initiated seamlessly.

Today is another one of those days and you, Seungcheol and his dad have come together in his office after work to go over the profits of the latest joint venture.

“This is good but we can do better.” Mr Choi says, setting down the sheets on the coffee table and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Most shareholders are still against Seungcheol and they want quick results.”

At the mention of his name, the man sighs and looks at his father, exasperated. “Dad, we have gone over this. We need to keep working to rebuild what we have lost. And we’re starting to see results. The board will give up sooner or later.”

“We need something more solid, son. We need something right now to prove to everyone that Choi Corporation still has a very bright future.”

You cannot resist this perfect opportunity.

Setting down the spreadsheet you were holding, you lean back on the couch and cross your arms before looking at Seungcheol. “You need to form a union.”

Seungcheol raises a thick brow. Mr Choi shuffles, peering at you inquisitively. You have to stifle a pleased smile. “Choi Corporation needs to form a long-term alliance with another big industry.” You pause. “And what better way to do that than through matrimony.”

There is a stretch of silence followed by your words.

Seungcheol scoffs, “What non—”

“Aha!” His father interrupts with a look of pure elation on his face. “You are so right! Why did I not think of this before…” The light in his face starts to diminish. “But which elite family would agree to ally with us now, unless…” An unmistakable flash of hope sparks in his eyes as he looks at you.

Absolutely delighted, you wait for him to voice the words.

“___, would you… be willing to?” His voice is full of hope.

“Dad!” Seungcheol gasps, standing up and scowling at his father with bafflement.

Oh baby, you are yet to be surprised.

Completely ignoring Seungcheol’s outburst and holding eye contact with his father, you reply. “I would be honored to.”

“What?” Seungcheol whips his head at you.

“Then it is settled,” Mr. Choi stands up with a clap of his hands. “We need to start preparing.”

You finally let your gaze travel to Seungcheol who is looking at you like he cannot believe you just did that. There are unsaid questions in his eyes, mixed with confusion and maybe even suspicion which he does not get to voice because he is going after his father. “Dad, you cannot be serious. Sumin’s case is still unsolved and—”

“You can solve that after the engagement, no? It is important to save the company right now. I understand how you feel but this way we can secure your future. I have known ___’s grandfather for so long and this would be a perfect match.”

Seungcheol looks at his father, distraught. His mouth opens but he fails to form words, raking a frustrated hand through his hair instead.

Watching their interaction you know for sure, you have won this round as well.

The next day you pay Seungcheol a visit on your way home from work. When you step inside his mansion, there is a different air about you which is reflected in the way you walk; like you own the place. You find Seungcheol in his study as you expected, still dressed in work clothes as he sips a cup of coffee with his eyes trained on his laptop. For a moment, you let yourself admire the way he looks in that white shirt folded at the sleeves, the top two buttons undone and his perfectly messy hair that can only be made by continuously running his hands through it.

This man is going to be yours.

Knocking on his open door, you make your presence known and step in, “Hey there.”

Seungcheol looks up and when his eyes lock with yours you see the lack of shine they previously used to have when he saw you. There is also a change in his reaction as he greets you by simply uttering your name.

You had expected resistance from him so it is fine.

“I came to check up on you.” You state in your friendliest voice as you stop in front of his desk. Pointing towards the couch on your left, you ask. “May I?”

He nods, watching you sit down and place your crimson handbag on the mahogany coffee table. Then, he gets up and comes to take a seat on the couch opposite you.

“You don’t look well.” You start.

“Yes,” he watches you carefully. “I’ve been trying to adjust myself to the upcoming changes.”

You heave out a sigh. “Listen, I know you are not up for this change—’’

“That’s an understatement,’’ he remarks drily.

You frown. “I don’t understand why you are mad at me.” You do not hide the indignation in your voice.

Seungcheol regards you silently and you can see that he is trying to hold back questions; questions he has about this sudden partnership, your prompt agreement and your intentions behind them. You see it all in his eyes and you know he does not voice them because they would hurt you, because his suspicion is just a form of his own resistance and he has no proof to back up his theories.

After a long moment, he exhales loudly, letting his head hang low before rubbing his face with his palm.

“This is just…too sudden.” He huffs out a breath before shaking his head. “I still cannot believe you and my dad just fixed my engagement right in front of me without asking me once.”

A small smile graces your lips. “Seungcheol, you know that I will not get engaged to you if you are not fully on board with this idea, right?”

You hold his gaze and notice how his features visibly soften as he nods. You continue. “I understand you are still hooked on what happened and I won’t force you to move on. This will just be a business partnership which will benefit both our companies.”

“You’re right.” Seungcheol murmurs, his eyes cast down as if he is lost in thought.

“Your father wants us to get engaged next week. Are you okay with that?”

Your words make him sit up straight, newfound determination sparkling in his eyes. “That works for me. How about you?”

“Me too.” You give him your most flattering smile.

You get engaged to Seungcheol on a Saturday.

The ceremony is very small— almost nonexistent, taking place only in the presence of Seungcheol’s family, his secretary and yours. Somewhere within you, you sense an emptiness caused by the absence of your grandpa. At the same time, remembering him leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You are still wrapping your head around the information Sumin revealed to you months ago.

Of course, you did some digging and went deeper to find out about your parents, which you never thought you would do. You never thought you would long for them or feel sorry for them, but you do now. Still, the anger does not fade away. It won’t until you get to confront your grandpa, which is why he must wake up. He has to.

Immediately after the short engagement ceremony, an official statement is released from both of your companies, sending the press into a frenzy. They treat it as if it is the biggest happening of the decade, even bigger than Seungcheol’s previous engagement, writing hundreds of articles and gossip tabloids. The general public does not hold back either, coming up with various theories linking you, Seungcheol, and Sumin together. Many say that you will be the next victim of the Choi family— they will get rid of you like Sumin.

Their words make you laugh. If the people knew the truth, what would they say? Would they understand you?

Probably not.

Which is fine, because your lifelong dream has come true.

You are going to marry Choi Seungcheol.

Just one week after your engagement, your grandpa wakes up from his coma.

You are stepping out of the plane after returning from your business trip to Hong Kong when you check the text from your secretary. Your grandpa woke up from his coma two hours ago and is very stable now.

The news has you standing still for a moment. There are mixed feelings but the most prominent feeling you sense is dread. You wonder what he will say. Would anything he say make you love him the way you used to?

Probably not.

When you step into your grandpa’s VIP ward, it is crowded. Your secretary, your grandpa’s caretaker and your future father-in-law are already there, hovering around his bed.

“Look who is here finally!” Mr. Choi grins as he spots you, standing up from his seat that is right by your grandpa’s bed. “Come in, come in.”

Your grandpa is seated on the bed, his back supported by pillows, looking a lot better than the last time you saw him. As soon as he sees you step in, his eyes shine and a large smile spreads on his lips.

A piece of your heart breaks.

“I hope you don’t mind, ____. I have already told him the good news.” Mr Choi says mischievously and you force a smile at him.

“Mr. Choi, could I have a moment with my grandpa, in private?”

“Of course, of course!” He nods and ushers everyone out of the room. When the door closes behind you and the silence settles, you step towards the bed.

“____, come, come! Sit.” Your grandpa motions to the seat by his bed.

Once you are seated, he immediately captures your hand in his, his frail, bony fingers clasping yours tightly as his eyes shine with unshed tears. “Oh ___! So much has happened. How could I miss it all! My little girl got engaged and I missed it!”

You cannot bring yourself to meet his eyes and for some reason, he fails to spot your weird behaviour. He continues, “I have missed you so much. Did you miss me? The nurse told me you have not been visiting regularly.” He looks at you expectantly.

You have to swallow a hard lump in your throat when you finally speak. “Grandpa, we need to talk.”

He lets go of your hands, pinching his brows together. “What is wrong?”

“Is there a secret you are hiding from me?”

“What? What secret?” He scoffs. “What are you—”

“You are my real grandfather, aren’t you?” You snap.

Time stills for a moment. Your grandpa watches you, his eyes slowly widening with alarm as seconds tick by. “I…y-you—” He stammers, looking bewildered.

You bite your lip hard to stop yourself from crying. “For the last two months, I have been waiting. Hoping, praying, that what I learned is not true even though everything pointed out otherwise. Please, tell me I am wrong. Tell me I am misunderstanding, please! Tell me you did not lie to me, grandpa!”

By now tears are rolling down your cheeks as you grab his hands in a desperate hold. He does not meet your gaze, looking down instead as he tries to stifle a sob.

“Why did you do it?” Messy tears blur your vision as you shake him, trying to make him look at you. “Why did you hate my parents so much? Why did you hate me so much, tell me!”

“I did not hate you, please— I…I did not know better.” He pleads, holding your hands. “I…I expected better things from your father. He was never the son I wanted him to be and when I found out he had a hidden family, I…I just lost it. I did not want them to die, you have to believe me.” His eyes are wide, his grip on your hands tightening as the desperation comes off him in waves.

“I felt so guilty that I…I could not look at you. You were so young and the accident left you with that scar and I felt responsible for it. So I sent you to that orphanage but that did not ease my guilt either. I sent you away but I did not forget you. I did not abandon you, I swear! I always had my eyes on you and I made sure you were taken care of. Years went by and as you grew up, I saw what an amazing future you had ahead of you. You— you were good at everything! So I decided to adopt you, give you the opportunity to fill out your potential—

“So I was an investment?” You cut him off with a glare.

“No!” Your grandpa begs. “It wasn’t like that! I…I learned to overlook my guilt. I…I did it out of love, ___. I was miserable without you. You have to believe me.” His eyes hold so much hope and desperation yet every word he says makes him appear more like a stranger to you.

“I don’t care!” You yell, snatching your hands from his grip. The rage flowing through your blood prevents you from remaining seated. You stand on your feet and look down at him, your teeth gritting in anger. “I don’t care if you did it out of love! You lied to me. If you loved me, you would have told me the truth when I was old enough. Did you think I never would have found out? Do you…do you know how awful it made me feel when I heard it from a fucking stranger!” The rage, the betrayal, the frustration you feel is maddening.

“My child, please, I’m sorry. Just listen—” Your grandpa’s pleas to listen fall deaf on your ears as you glower at him. How could he do that to you? How could he do that to your parents? How is it possible that your heart is ripping apart in pain for two people you don’t even remember?

Absentmindedly, your hand reaches to touch the faded scar on your left cheek, the surface still slightly bumpy to the touch.

Your grandpa grabs your hand once more, breaking the train of your thoughts. As soon as he touches you, you step back, snatching your hand away from his grip.

“___, please, listen to me.” He begs.

“No,” you shake your head. “I loved you. You were my rock, grandpa. And this is how you repay me?”

The longer you look at him, the crueler you find yourself becoming. The man you have known your entire life starts to appear more and more unfamiliar. Wiping all the tears from your face, you take a deep, shuddering breath. Your hands curl into fists as you look him straight in the eye and announce. “You are not invited to the wedding.”

“What?” He gasps, his mouth hanging agape as one of his hands reaches out to try to grab onto you.

“You heard me. Don’t try to contact me. If I want to see you again, I will come find you.”

You don’t look back as you storm out of the room.

The old man’s pitiful sobs do not make you turn around as you block the noises by loudly shutting the door behind you.

The first thing you do when you get back home is open a bottle of wine. Chugging a quarter of it, you plop down on the cold living room floor.

Your phone vibrates with a new message inside your pocket and with an annoyed grunt, you fish it out. There is a missed call from Seungcheol followed by a message from him saying how happy he is that your grandpa woke up. Along with it, there are a bunch of texts from different people in your company and other firms, telling you how glad they are for you and what gifts they have sent for your grandpa.

It is aggravating. In a fit of rage, you hurl your phone away as it hits the couch first before dropping face-down on the floor.

Fuck them all.

You down more of the red liquid, finding the bitter taste oddly addictive. The more you drink the sweeter it tastes as a soothing haziness settles in your brain that numbs every feeling, every thought you had.

With the bottle almost empty and clutched to your chest, you soon fall asleep on the floor.

Next thing you know, you are violently being shaken awake from your slumber.

The first thing you feel is a raging headache that leaves your vision blurry for a few solid seconds. When you regain it, you find Yuna hovering over you, grabbing your shoulders. Behind her, you spot the worried face of your housekeeper, Mrs. Min.

Your secretary keeps saying something but the throbbing headache prevents you from hearing any of it as you struggle to sit up straight. Taking a deep, staggering breath, you squeeze your eyes shut before opening them again.

“Madam, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

You finally manage to look at her straight. “Fuck— what is it Yuna? What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“It is 2 am, madam. We have been trying to reach you for the past two hours. Your fiancee is on his way. You were not opening the door so I called your housekeeper to let me in.”

Right, Mrs. Min knows your code.

“I don’t understand, what is the emergency?” You sigh, irately rubbing your temples to ease the headache.

“Madam,” your secretary pauses and you have to force yourself to lift your head again and look at her. “Your grandfather passed away two hours ago.”

Suddenly, your mind is clear.

Your body stiffens, and the headache instantly fades into thin air. You are more alert than you have ever been before.

Wide-eyed, you stare at her, waiting for something you don’t know. Maybe she will say that it is a prank, maybe you will wake up any moment from this nightmare, maybe she will repeat herself and you will realise you heard wrong.

None of that happens.

Yuna continues. “I am really sorry. He was in his sleep when his heart rate suddenly spiked before stopping. They could not bring him back.”

You pick yourself up from the ground before gently sitting down on the couch, your eyes trained on the blank wall ahead of you. An agonizing wave of anguish swallows your whole being as a gaping hole of numbness spreads within you with the passing of each second.

You don’t blink. You don’t move. You don’t cry.

You sit and stare at the wall until your secretary offers. “Should I drive you to the hospital?”

You nod.

“Would you like me to call Mr Choi and tell him to meet you there?”

You nod again.

At noon, the funeral ceremony comes to an end.

You get a glimpse of the fruitful life your grandpa lived by the number of guests who come to give you their condolences.

Thankfully, Seungcheol and his dad took over early on as they ran the ceremony and managed the guests while you sat in a corner in silence.

The entire ceremony finishes without you shedding a single tear. Neither do you cry in the car as Seungcheol drives you home.

However, the minute you step into your penthouse and tread sluggishly to your bedroom, you spot the photo of you and your grandpa on your nightstand and finally break down.

Holding the photo frame tightly against your chest, you curl into a ball on the floor and howl like a dying creature. Tremors wrack your body as your sob intensifies along with the soul-crushing remorse and pain for what you have lost.

Perhaps it is your ruinous crying that makes Seungcheol knock on your door as he steps in with a mug of hot tea and finds you curled up and wailing on the floor.

He looks distressed and unsure for a moment, debating whether to give you some privacy before going against it. Instead, he comes closer and sets the mug down on the nightstand before gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

You continue weeping and Seungcheol slowly maneuvers your feeble body into a sitting position before he scoops you up and sets you down on the bed. But he doesn’t let you go. His arm remains a firm hold around your body and without thinking you wrap your arms around his neck as tightly as humanly possible, trying to bury yourself and your sorrows in his body. Your action makes him only embrace you tighter as he uses one hand to stroke your hair repeatedly in an attempt to comfort you.

“I fought with him the last time I saw him,” you yawl between sobs, face mushed in Seungcheol’s shoulder. “I fought with him, Cheol! He hates me…he will never forgive me.”

“Hush, hush now.” Seungcheol soothes, holding you tighter if that is even possible. “It is alright. He knows how much you love him, ___. He could never be mad at you.”

“I should have told him how much I loved him!” You howl, digging your fingernails into his back. “What have I done, Cheol? How could I do that?”

“It is alright. Everything will be okay.” Seungcheol chants repeatedly while tenderly rocking your limp frame, allowing you to cry your heart out. The tears that had not flowed in the last ten hours pour out ceaselessly, making a mess on Seungcheol’s jacket.

Time ticks by. The tea grows cold. The sun starts to lower in the sky.

When you have finally calmed down and can breathe without choking from tears, Seungcheol lets you go.

He sits in silence next to you as you wipe your tears and snot using his handkerchief.

“You should eat something.” He whispers. You shake your head, crumpling the piece of cloth in your hands as you gaze at it in a blank stare.

Next to you, Seungcheol sighs. “Would you like to lie down for a bit? I will give you some privacy.” He stands up but you immediately pull him back down before wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his chest. His arms snake around your body once more as you listen to his heartbeat.

You realize how glad you are to have him next to you. How could you ever go through a day like today without him holding you in his arms?

“Thank you,” your voice is the faintest whisper of gratitude. For a moment, you think he did not hear you but then he shifts, cupping your cheek as you look up at him.

“You don’t have to thank me. I am sorry this is all I can do.” He tenderly brushes a thumb over the scar on your cheek, making your heart soar.

You immediately shake your head. “You are doing so much.” You whisper, eyes trailing down to his lips. Mirroring your gaze, Seungcheol’s eyes also travel to your lips and unconsciously, you find yourself leaning a tad bit closer to him. Once again, he mirrors your actions.

Your eyes fall closed and a moment later, you feel Seungcheol’s soft lips against yours. The kiss is tender and shy as if the waters are being tested. You lean in, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to bring him closer. Against your touch, his body relaxes as the kiss deepens, drawing out a soft moan from you. You taste peppermint on his tongue, a sigh of pleasure escaping your lips when he returns your kiss with equal fervent, exploring your mouth.

The kiss is beautifully breathtaking. It is everything you imagined and more, your late night fantasies gift-wrapped in a pink bow.

Seungcheol is the first one to pull back as the two of you pant for air, still holding on to each other. His eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes as your thumb strokes his cheek and you lean in for another kiss.

This time, it is more passionate as Seungcheol envelops you with his body, gently pushing you behind so that your back meets the mattress. He lays on top of you, one hand holding on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, moving from your waist down to your legs. His warm hand traces down your leg under your skirt before coming back up as he squeezes your thigh.

A moan falls from your lips, breaking the kiss and he uses the opportunity to bite your lip softly.

His eyes lock with yours for a moment, his hand hovering near your inner thigh as he silently waits for your permission. You comply, reattaching his mouth on yours and opening your legs wider as he gives the flesh of your thigh a particularly harsh squeeze, the pad of his thumb stroking your inner thigh, so close to where you want him to touch you.

Then, you feel the warmth of his fingers over your core before he cups your pussy over your panties.

You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips.

“Touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

Seungcheol obeys you, his fingers slipping underneath your panties and brushing against your pussy. The sensation, the touch you have craved for so long makes you jolt in pleasure, a shaky breath falling from your lips. His biceps become your anchor as you grip them firmly to ground yourself.

Seungcheol’s lips trace your jaw before trailing down your neck while his fingers rub your pussy. Your hips writhe, chasing his touch while he peppers your neck with kisses before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he pushes one finger in, dark eyes trained on you as your pleasure amplifies.

“Yes,” you shut your eyes closed, revelling the feeling of his finger inside you. Soon, one finger becomes two and he slowly moves them in and out of you. One of your legs wraps around his waist while you pull him closer to smash your lips against his. Your tongue meets his with a fiery passion, an urgency to claim his as yours. Inside you, his fingers pick up the pace, making your body taught as you start climbing your high.

“C-Cheol…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes even though you are unsure if you want to come right now or draw it out.

“Hm?” He hums, eyes hazy with a film of lust. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“Please,” you heave, clutching his shoulder with one hand and wrapping the other around the broad expanse of his back. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly.

“Oh fuck, yes,” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you clutch him tighter. “I’m gonna come.”

“Do it then,” his voice is a quiet order.

He curls his fingers inside you and flicks your clit hard which does the job for you. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure.

The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss.

When your mind has regained some clarity, you see Seungchol still lying on top of you, his eyes locked in on your lips which he is touching with the fingers that were inside of you mere moments ago. Without breaking eye contact with him, you gently hold his hand and push his index and middle finger inside your mouth, sucking them. Seungcheol’s adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flickering with impure intentions that are clearly expressed from his hard-on digging into your belly.

Sucking his fingers clean, you pop them off your mouth, your hand still holding his. Your fingers trace over his knuckles and veins, your eyes never daring to stray from his. It is as if a sudden spell has been cast on the two of you that has locked you in a trance of breathless admiration. It is a shame all good moments must come to an end.

As if zapped by electricity, Seungcheol suddenly pulls his hand out of yours as he gets off your body. The air in the room suddenly shifts to slight awkwardness as Seungcheol blinks furiously, adjusting his pants.

“I…I am sorry.” He mutters, not looking at you as you sit up on the bed. “You were mourning. I should not have done that.”

“I asked you to.” You state with a frown. Does he regret it? “I needed to forget…things for a moment.”

Seungcheol’s eyes finally meet yours as a sigh escapes from his lips and he nods, looking unsure. “Right…”

“I liked it a lot.” You find yourself saying. The look in your eyes is heated, mirroring a newfound fire of desire he has lit within you. Seungcheol swallows, gaze transfixed on you before he clears his throat, the look in his eyes shifting.

“Get some rest.” He whispers, walking out of the room and gently shutting the door behind him.

Turns out one can live with soul-crushing guilt.

It has been a week since your grandpa’s death and you find yourself slowly falling back into your old routine. As the days pass by slowly, the pain somewhat lessens but your guilt remains the same, your conscience constantly reminding you of what could have been if you behaved differently with him that day.

That is an answer you will never receive because what is gone is gone, and you are forcing yourself to learn to live with it.

Things with Seungcheol are slightly tense as well. After that particular moment you two shared last week, he has been avoidant. Since that day there has not been any one-on-one interaction between the two of you as he has been checking up on you from time to time with brief text messages. His aloofness has bothered you of course but you have decided not to let it get to you, happy with the fading mark he left on your neck and the memories of that afternoon.

That is why, on a Tuesday afternoon at your office, Seungcheol’s sudden visit surprises you because it is the last place you would expect him to show up.

You straighten up in your chair, palms resting on the armrest as he marches into your office, dressed in his regular office wear that is covered underneath a long black trenchcoat, an odd sort of hurry in his steps.

Your silly assumption that he is here to take you on a surprise date quickly changes when you notice the expression on his face. His jaw is clenched, brows knitted in a frown as he regards you with an accusatory glare.

“Seungcheol?” You stand up behind your desk. “Hey, what brings you here?”

Seungcheol’s brisk steps eat up the rest of the distance as he stands in front of your desk, sparing little space between the two of you. Instead of replying, his eyes remain fixed on you for a moment too long, making you hold your breath.

Your gut senses severe doom from how he regards you, an unfathomable look in his eyes. Finally, he interrogates. “Is there something you are hiding from me, ___?”

“What?” You blink, stumped. “Why would you ask that?”

Seungcheol falls into silence once again as your mind starts running rampant. No matter how desperately you try to convince yourself that he could not possibly be talking about that thing, your mind ends up going there. The silence and the foreign look in his eyes make your fear unimaginably real with each passing second.

“I need you to be honest with me.” He says as he inhales deeply, as if trying to hold his emotions at bay, his eyes never straying from yours. “Please. I am giving you a chance.”

Your heart runs a mile a minute as you suddenly find yourself at a loss for words. The entirety of your body grows as stiff as a board while you find yourself falling into a bottomless pit of ruination. Seungcheol remains unmoving, watching you with a pointed gaze as you struggle to read him, struggle to find the right words. You feel so naked, so transparent right now as if he can read everything fleeting through your mind.

Damn it, how did he find out?

“Madam, the board meeting started five minutes ago.”

A sharp inhale transports you out of your spiralling mind as you whip your head away from Seungcheol when your secretary peers into the room with the reminder.

Like you have been struck by lightning, your body jolts. “Y-yes, I am coming. Give me a minute.” You give her a look of dismissal before focusing on your fiance. In your most composed voice, you say, “I don’t know what this is about, Cheol but we can continue this conversation—”

“I will send you an address.” He cuts you off with a seething glare, stepping away from your desk as if he is about to leave. “You will be there at 9 pm, ___.” There is no room for arguments.

He leaves before you can form an answer and you stand rooted in your spot with tremors in your hands and a parched throat, your feet suddenly too heavy to move.

You deep down knew this would happen one day, didn’t you?

You would be found sooner or later but you never wished to be caught by Seungcheol. You would have much preferred to be caught by the police and given a life sentence. At least that way, you did not have to face him.

“Madam?” There is a knock on your door once again, making you jump.

“Damn it, Yuna! I said give me a minute!”

It is one minute to nine pm when you arrive at the location Seungcheol had sent you earlier in the day. You realized karma had gotten you when you clicked on the location and realised it was the exact place where Sumin died.

The world stopped spinning for a moment too long.

Out of pure shock, you dropped your phone from your hands as your knees gave out and you fell to the ground, the realization that everything is coming to an end too much for you to fathom.

Surprisingly, though, it has been easy for you after the initial shock wore off. You had accepted your fate.

Gladly, in fact.

No more pretending now. It is a relief. He knows the real you and whatever decision he makes now, you will accept it gladly. You do not feel remorse for what you have done and you do not see a point in hiding anymore.

And so, you sit in your car, parked a few meters away from the place where he called you. Seungcheol is already here, his car parked a few feet ahead of yours. When you glance at the dashboard clock, you see it is two minutes past nine.

With a loud sigh, you pop the muscles in your neck before stepping out of the car. A gust of chilly air flows by, making you shiver slightly. With your hands fisted in the pockets of your trench coat, you walk ahead, the sound of your heels against the granite your only company.

All too soon, you find yourself in front of that abandoned factory and when you look left, it feels like deja vu. Seungcheol stands there, underneath that yellow street lamp, right where Sumin stood that night.

Your eyes meet his, cold and unblinking and if you did not know any better, you would think he was a statue. A very mesmerising one.

You inhale a lungful of the cold night air before turning left and walking towards him, trying your best to ignore the subtle tremble in your legs. With a few feet of distance left between the two of you, you come to a stop and breathe. “Good evening, Cheol.”

He keeps looking at you impassively but you start noticing the minute changes in his eyes. They shift from disappointment to betrayal to anger and you know very well what lies ahead of you.

Yet, you are unreasonably calm; so calm that you surprise yourself.

Just when you are preparing to start the conversation since he is immobile, Seungcheol reaches into his coat pocket to fish out his phone. His brows tangle in a soft furrow as he scrolls through it before lowering his hand and gently tossing it on the ground, a few steps away from your feet. The device remains face-up on the ground as a video plays.

A dash cam footage from the night of Sumin’s death. You can tell from the angle that the car was parked on the cliff right after the empty field behind where you stand, at an angle that is looking straight at the side wall of the factory, just a couple of meters before the left turn to the front of it. The video keeps running, grainy and slightly blurry due to the distance and the darkness of the night except for a faint hue of yellow light from this very street lamp. You know very well what the next footage will be.

As you imagined, the video plays on and a few seconds later, it shows you coming from the direction of the warehouse before marching away, out of the view.

“There were two cars parked on that cliff that night,” Seunghcheol points upwards, to the cliff behind you. “This is the dash cam footage of one of the cars. Care to explain, ___?” The fury in his eyes is unmistakable.

You breathe out a soft sigh. What does he want? He knows very well what this footage implies so why did he not just hand this over to the police? Standing here in front of him while he demands an explanation feels nothing short of torture to you.

“Go ahead,” He hisses, taking a step towards you. “Claim that it is not you. Tell me I am getting this wrong. Fucking say something!”

“You know very well, Cheol. What do you want me to say?” You finally find your voice which is as soft as a feather.

Furious, he marches towards you, grabbing you by the collars and it is truly a deja vu of that night. “Why did you do it?” He screams, shaking you, his pupils wide with bristling resentment. “Why did you kill her?” He hollers again.

His face is a mere inch or so away from you, so close that you can feel his warm breath puffing out in the cold night air, so close that you can feel the blizzard of emotions radiating off him.

He really cared for her. He might have loved her without even knowing.

Fuck, that thought burns like acid down your throat.

“She had everything I wanted.” You finally find yourself whispering. Seungcheol grows still upon hearing your words as you see the storm in his eyes die down. The entire world seems to quiten for a second as you only hear the two of you breathing. His brows remain furrowed as he regards you with confusion, his grip on your collar faltering. You breathe out, repeating. “Sumin had everything I ever wanted, Cheol.”

“And what was it?” He snaps.

You swallow a lump in your throat but never lose eye contact with him. “You.”

Like he has been electrocuted, Seungcheol lets go of you and takes an immediate step back. His pupils dilate as his mouth opens just slightly in bafflement. You find his reaction almost funny. Overdramatic as well.

Is it really that shocking?

“Stop playing fucking games, ___.’’ He scoffs after the shock has worn off.

“It is true.” You take a step towards him with a new surge of energy in your blood. “I have wanted you since forever…since I was 18. Since the day of your father’s party after you returned from abroad I have longed for you.”

With each word you speak, his jaw hardens and a look of disbelief and something akin to disgust graces his face.

“I have loved you for so long, Seungcheol and then Sumin appeared one day and took you away.” Your pitch loudens as your desperation grows.

He needs to understand you, he needs to see you.

You are not some cold-blooded monster. You are just someone madly in love with him.

“So you killed her!” He seethes.

“She was not right for you!” You cry, eyes blown out, teeth gritting. “She did not love you, Seungcheol! She was using you!”

He closes the gap between the two of you as he roughly grabs the side of your neck, tilting your head upwards. “Shut. Up.” He seethes, his eyes so dark, his gaze so fierce you almost feel like you have been burned down to a pile of ashes. “You are not only a murderer but also a fucking liar.”

A mirthless laughter escapes your lips as you take a step back from his grip and shake your head. You had expected this. You understand he will not believe you this instant but now that he knows what you have done, it will not take too long for him to find out what Sumin and her family was up to. He will believe your words then.

It is a shame you will most likely be behind bars by then.

“Stop laughing!” He shouts, frustrated. Raking a hand through his hair, he stares at the ground before looking back at you, his eyes shining in a look of desperation and betrayal. “I trusted you. You were like my family, ___. How could you do this?”

You cannot bear how disgusted he appears with you.

Why cannot he just shoot you like you shot Sumin?

“You are my family too, Cheol.” You blink back tears. “The feelings I have for you are beyond something anyone can ever comprehend and…it is fine. I prefer it that way. I would burn the world for you, Choi Seungcheol so please don’t look at me with so much hatred.”

“You—” Seungcheol shakes his head with a frustrated grunt. “Just tell me where the fucking gun is.”

There is a faint smile you cannot hold back. “I got rid of it long ago.” You pause. “But don’t worry, this dashcam footage will be enough along with my confession.”

He looks at you with disbelief.

You give him a sad smile.

“Don’t act noble, ___. I know what you are capable of.” He hisses. “I will not trust a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“I am not lying. I won’t run away, Cheol. I promise. Just don’t call the police to my office. I would rather be arrested at home.”

Seungcheol is perplexed with your attitude and after a long moment of silence, when you realize he has nothing more to say, you start walking backwards.

“Goodbye, Cheol. It was really nice knowing you.” With your vision blurry due to unshed tears, you flash him a smile before quickly turning around and heading for your car, not looking back.

You drive all the way home in silence before finally parking your car in the parking lot of your apartment. As the engine dies down, leaving you without its gentle hum, you sit in silence and let the reality of your life wash over you.

You have had a good life. You wonder what it will be like behind the bars. You will plead guilty no matter what your lawyer says and you have no intention of lying and claiming you feel remorse for your actions. A life sentence awaits you for sure, maybe with no parole.

Shaking your head at the absurdity of your future, you rest your hands over the steering wheel, putting your head on them and closing your eyes. Your engagement ring digs into your forehead and you look up to see the small diamond glinting softly. It suddenly feels foreign on your skin and the longer you look at it, the worse it appears. Prying it off your fingers you fist it in your palm, half tempted to break it.

“I hope we can have a good life.” You remember Seungcheol’s words when he slipped that ring on your finger.

And finally, the dam breaks. You clutch the little trinket to your chest as you curl your body into a small ball and weep with your head hanging low. Soon, you cannot stop stifling the noise as your sobs turn into violent cries and in a fit of rage, hopelessness and longing, you punch your dashboard hard enough for your knuckles to bleed.

At some point, the blood seeping from your knuckles dries but your tears don’t.

You do not go to your office the next day for obvious reasons.

Instead, you spend the day cleaning your apartment and setting everything in its place one last time while waiting for uniformed officers to knock on your door.

Hours tick by and it never happens, puzzling you.

When the remnants of colour start fading from the dusk sky, someone rings your doorbell. You open it to find Seungcheol’s driver.

“Mr Choi has asked you to come to his house.”

Baffled even further, you quickly change your clothes and follow him out. The man drives you to Seungcheol’s mansion and you hesitantly step outside of the car when you reach your destination all too quickly. The lady who is Seungcheol’s head of staff comes to greet you as she escorts you to his study, holding the door open for you to step in and then closing it softly behind you.

In the dimly lit room, Seungcheol sits at his desk with a glass of whiskey in his hand, his chair turned around so that he faces the window behind him. Tentatively, you walk closer to him and he slightly turns his head to look at you. His eyes are barren, devoid of any emotion, almost inhumane.

A breath catches in your throat but you do not break your eye contact.

“Why did you bring me here?” You whisper, for some reason too scared to speak out loud.

“To have a serious discussion about our futures.” His tone is flat as he swivels his chair to face you.

What is that supposed to mean?

Swallowing, you wait for him to elaborate.

“Does anyone else know what you did?” He asks.

His question throws you off slightly. “Just you. Though…in a way, my driver knows. I asked him to leave early with the empty car and told him to lie and say I was in the car if anyone asked.”

“So basically he knows.”

“Yes, but he is probably the only employee I trust. He has been extremely loyal to my grandfather and me.”

“This is a murder we are talking about.”

“If he wanted to rat me out, he would have done it by now. Besides, he did not witness it.” You frown, pausing. “Wait, I don't understand where this is going. Why are you asking me this?”

Seungcheol sighs, standing up. Pressing his hands flat on his desk, he looks directly into your eyes and leans closer. “Because I am going to cover it up.”

“What?” You had to have heard that wrong. There is no way—

“I am going to bury what you did.” He grunts, appearing disgusted with himself as he speaks the words. “I already got rid of the CCTV footage.”

Your jaw drops, as you subconsciously step back, gripping the back of the couch behind you. “I- I don’t understand…”

“I am not doing this for you.” He spits, scowling at you. “I am doing this for my family.”

You are still at a loss for words, trying to process everything coming out of his lips.

Seungcheol exhales a sigh of defeat, “I have thought about this long and hard. I cannot do this to my family, especially to my father. He was so excited about my marriage to Sumin and now he is ten times more excited to see us getting married. If he found out his ex daughter-in-law was murdered by you, his future daughter-in-law, someone he has always been fond of,” he shakes his head. “It would kill him. Plus, the company would suffer. The board wants to see me married and if my second engagement is ruined as well, I will not be running the company any time soon. My father would be devastated.”

You inhale a lungful of air. “So… you are saying you will still marry me.”

“That is the only way left is it not? Marrying a murderer.” He grits his teeth, his eyes shooting invisible arrows of fire at you.

“No.” Suddenly, your brain clears up. “No, it is not.” Your voice is determined. “This is not what I want!”

“Excuse me?” Seungcheol scoffs.

“I do not want to trap you in this marriage. You are marrying me against your will. I do not accept this. We will come up with an excuse. You can say I cheated on you or something.”

Seungcheol watches you in silence for a long moment before rounding his desk and coming close to you. Making you jerk in surprise, he grabs your arms and holds them tightly, his eyes flashing dangerously in the dimly lit room. “Listen to me very carefully, ____. You have ruined me enough to last a lifetime. Do not ruin my family and my company now. From now on, you will do as I say and play the part of the happiest bride-to-be. Is that fucking clear?’’

You stare at him in defiance.

“Is that clear?” His tone drops as his gaze darkens, giving you goosebumps. “You have done enough for me. No need to act noble and say that you don’t want to trap me when this was your plan all along.”

No, no. That is not true at all. You wanted him to love you. You wanted to be there when he needed help and you wanted him to come to you voluntarily. You were protecting him. He was never supposed to find out all this.

“Seungcheol, you are mistundertsanding me—”

“Are we clear?” He yells, shaking you by the arms.

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Good.” He releases you. “Get out of my sight.”

You blink back tears and swallow a lump in your throat, slowly stepping towards the door with unsteady feet. Just as your fingertips touch the knob, you come to a stop. “Seungcheol?”

You hear a sigh of annoyance. “What?”

You turn around and ask, “Is there anything that you have been hiding from me?”

He raises a brow. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

There is a slight shrug of your shoulders. “Nothing, I just… You know, something like the fact that you knew that me and my grandfather were in fact, related by blood and he adopted me not because I was the one who caught his eye among all the others at the orphanage but due to his guilt for killing my parents.”

With each word that leaves your lips, Seungcheol’s pupils dilate and, ironically, he looks more astounded now than when you confessed to killing Sumin.

For an achingly long moment, heavy silence hangs in the air and you never let your eyes stray from his, patiently waiting for what he has to say.

“How did you find out?” His tone is low.

“Sumin told me.”

You really did not think it was possible for him to look even more bewildered but he does. He abruptly marches towards you and leans forward, asking. “Sumin?”

“Yes,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at his shock.

“I don’t understand—”

“You know,” You cut him off. “I don’t remember my parents so I have never missed them and to some extent, I now understand why my grandfather did what he did. What I don’t understand is why he lied to me, why you all lied to me. And why I had to hear the truth from someone like Sumin. It doesn’t make sense, does it? You all were in the joke and no one once thought how I would feel if I found out.”

“You were not supposed to find out.” His tone is flat and the look he is giving you is enraging; like you have no right to be mad.

“And you were not supposed to find out that I killed your ex-fiance!” You scream.

Seungcheol exhales loudly, rubbing a hand over his face as he looks down at the ground. “Why did Sumin tell you this, ___?” His tone is sharp as if you are being investigated at a police station.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” He hisses, frustrated. “Why would she go out of her way to tell you that?”

“I found out some of her secrets and I threatened her with them.” You don’t let your eyes stray from his.

“What secrets?” His eyes darken.

You rub a frustrated hand over your forehead while resting the other on your hip. Not this again.

“It's better that you don’t know, Seungcheol.”

“Answer me, ___.” He inhales a sharp breath and grits his teeth, his patience is running thin.

So is yours.

From the pocket of your trousers, you fish out a recorder and toss it over to his table. “Since you want to know so bad, here you go. It has all the answers, the last conversation I had with her and her final moments.”

You see apprehension in his eyes as he watches the little black device sitting on his desk. “After listening to that, you might go back on your word.” You warn. Because the sound of you unlocking the safety of your gun is in there. Because the sound of Sumin’s lifeless body hitting the ground is in there.

“And if you decide to hand me over to the police after this,” You give a nonchalant shrug. “I completely understand. Just don’t destroy the record. There is only one copy and it is the best evidence you will have of this case.”

Seungcheol stands rooted to his spot, looking at you impassively as you close the door behind you.

Three days go by and the police do not come and you realize, once again Seungcheol has decided to brush what you did under the rug. It is a fixed feeling, mostly bitter if you are being honest with yourself. What lies ahead of you now is a bleak future where you and Seungcheol will live under one roof with stifling disgust. His friends and family will visit and you will have to pretend to be the happiest couple in front of them.

As you are returning home from work on Tuesday with all these thoughts bridling in your head, you receive a text from an unknown number.

Someone has texted you a location along with a message.

I have your man. If you want him to live, bring me 10 million dollars in this location within the next hour. Come alone or I will slice his head off.

For one moment you think— no, try to convince yourself that you are seeing things wrong and this is only a prank. However, you start to break into a cold sweat when you dial Seungcheol’s number with shaky hands and it goes unanswered. Petrified, you call his secretary next and he picks up on the fifth ring.

“Madam-”

“Where is Seungcheol? I cannot reach him.” You try to keep your voice as stable as possible yet a tremor slips through. Your gut prepares you for the worst when you hear a commotion in the background as his secretary takes a second too long to reply.

“Madam, I am really sorry. We were leaving work when two vans surrounded us on the highway and threw smoke bombs at us. They hit me in the head and took away Mr Choi after knocking him out. But don’t worry madam, the police have been informed—”

You hang up.

Fucking hell.

The first thing you do is dial your secretary, throwing her into a furor as you order her to arrange the money and have it ready in half an hour at your place.

When you reach home, you quickly discard your work clothes and put on a hoodie and sweatpants along with some good running shoes as a disguise. Your next task is to hurry down to your basement where you have stored your grandfather's collection of antic guns. You had it moved here after his death and thank god for that. Picking a long-barreled revolver, you check the chamber before tucking it in your waistband.

Upstairs, your secretary waits with a duffel bag in her hands, struggling to hold the weight. Her face is littered with unsaid questions as you snatch the bag from her hands and storm past her. The weight of the cash hi nders your mobility, making you slower.

“If you say a word about this to anyone else I will gut you. And if you keep your mouth shut and go home like nothing happened, I will triple your salary.” You hiss at Yuna who’s eyes widen hearing the reward.

Firing your Hennessey to life, you press the accelerator hard as you pull your car out of the basement and zoom down the street. The clock on the dashboard says you have exactly twenty-five minutes till your one hour is over and you whisper a silent prayer to whoever is up there for a traffic-free road.

As you near your destination, you realize the location that was sent to you is a small, old two-storeyed storehouse near the seaport, once used to store cargo. Located a little further from the main port, it is a dingy building with cracked walls and missing windows and a backdrop of thick, dense forest, appearing haunted in the darkness of the night.

With a deep inhale, you step out of your car and lock it. A slight shiver runs down your spine as you calculate your odds of rescuing Seungcheol safely. You don’t know who is waiting for you in there and if they even have him with them. Of course, you have a suspect in your mind and if they are alone, it should be easy to tackle them. Still, you make a risky decision.

You call the police.

“Hello, I have a tip about the kidnapping of Choi Seungcheol of the Choi Corporation. I am sending you my location. How long will it take you to get here?

“It will take about 12 minutes for the officers to reach the scene. Are you alone ma'am? Please do not go inside if you—”

You hang up the call and march towards the building carrying the duffel bag. With the reassurance that the police will be here soon, you step inside.

The ground floor is eerily quiet and almost shrouded in complete darkness.

Somewhere nearby, the wolves howl.

The utter lack of light and noise tells you that the first floor is empty so you follow the stairs up to the second floor, illuminated by tube lights hanging very low from the ceiling.

Your cautious steps lead you to a wide, poorly lit hallway on the second floor. However, as you step into the corridor, you see a faint glow of orange hue on your right.

This is it.

Feet moving automatically, your whole body tenses up as you grip the duffel with one hand and keep the other free, hovering over the back of your waist. Unlike the first floor, the construction of the second was left incomplete so at the end of the hallway there are no individual rooms but instead a big one.

And there is Seungcheol.

With his hands and legs tied to a chair, he sits with his head hanging low, his tired frame illuminated by the small fire lit in front of him.

Best of all, there is no one else in the room.

“Seungcheol!” You cry, running straight to him.

He is baffled, gaping at you as you rush over to him, scrambling to untie his hands and legs as fast as possible.

“___? I- I don’t understand…How did you—”

“Hush.” You whisper, untying the last knot to free his leg before standing up to take a look at his face. There is a wound on his head, half-dried blood soaking his hair as your stomach forms knots, worried.

“We need to get you to a hospital.” You whisper, throat dry as you reach behind him to undo his hands.

“What a sweet reunion it is, no?” A familiar voice echoes, halting your action.

You whip your head around and there he stands, the man you suspected.

Sumin’s father, Lee Ryunwoo. You should have taken care of him long ago.

The blood in your veins runs cold as you immediately step in front of Seungcheol to cover him. The man emerges from the shadows, waving a gun in his hand as he orders, “Try to play smart with me and I’ll blow your head off.”

“Why did you kidnap him?” You ask, watching his movements warily as you cover Seungcheol with your frame. “Do you think you can get out of this so easily?”

From behind you, Seungcheol’s quiet voice echoes. “He knows, ___.”

You freeze, immediately understanding what he is referring to.

What? How?

“You are awfully mouthy for a bitch who shot my daughter,” Ryunwoo smirks, stepping closer to you. He presses the barrel of the gun to your throat before pulling it away, flashing you a cruel smirk. You swallow the lump in your throat as your brain frantically thinks of the next move. Maybe calling the police was not the best idea.

“Imagine my surprise when I find that recorder.” You watch cautiously as he walks past you and kneels in front of the duffel back, his gun aimed at you. Using one hand, he opens the zipper, shuffling the cash around as he checks it. “Yes, I had someone break into his office after he started acting dodgy. I knew something was going on.” He pauses to look at Seungcheol. “Everything was going so wonderfully. You were so confident about a lead and then you suddenly claim it was nothing? You should have been more careful, son.” He chuckles with a shake of his head.

You assess the situation, carefully watching his body language. Despite the gun in his hand pointing at you, his eyes are cast downwards, focused on the money.

You realize this might be your only chance.

Ever so carefully, you pull your revolver from your waistband, pointing it just slightly over his arm and pull the trigger.

Your sudden action has both the men confused as the bullet flies a mere half an inch above Ryunwoo’s hand, making him drop his gun and fall on his ass.

“___! Stop!’’ Seungcheol yells from behind you, struggling to free himself from the chair while you step towards Ryunwoo, pointing the gun at his head.

“Where is the recorder?” You ask.

He has the balls to chuckle. “This little thing?” From the breast pocket of his jacket, he slowly pulls out the little black device.

“Hand it over.” You order, stepping closer.

His cackle echoes through the barren room, overpowering Seungcheol’s yells of protest.

“Come and take it.” It is a challenge.

You grit your teeth, popping a vein in your neck. “I could just shoot you right now.”

“Like you shot Sumin?” The smirk does not wipe off his face.

“___, for fucks sake! Don’t!” Seungcheol yells.

You would have gladly taken the shot had the police not already been on their way. Against your will, you decide to play his game. Pointing your gun with one hand, you extend the other, holding your palm open. “Give it. Now.”

The tip of your fingers brush against the device when the police siren is heard. Ryunwoo immediately pulls the device back as he bellows, “You called the cops, you bitch!”

Using his momentary distraction to your advantage, you lunge at him, knocking him down hard on his head and snatching the recorder from his hand.

The next moment someone grabs your arm to pull you off of him and you look up to see Seungcheol. “Cheol! You—”

“The police will be here any second. They will investigate you if you hurt him.” He warns, pulling you towards him. On the floor, Ryunwoo groans, cupping his head and spewing curses at you. Outside, the sirens grow louder as you hear the commotion and the footsteps of the officers entering the building.

“Come,” Seungcheol attempts to guide you away by your shoulders when suddenly, you are dragged down. Ryunwoo’s abrupt pull on your leg makes you fall face down on the ground as the gun slips through your fingers upon impact. Seungcheol tries and fails to grab onto you in time as you are pulled backward by a rough grip. His entire body comes to a complete halt with his eyes widening in fear when he looks behind you, slowly raising his arms in surrender.

At the entrance of the room, the officers crowd, yelling at Ryunwoo to drop his weapon.

That is when you actually feel the cold barrel of his gun pressed to your temple.

Oh fuck.

Exhaling a shaky breath, you turn your head ever so slightly to look at him.

“I am going to blow your brains out and then go to jail, you cunt. How dare you trick me?” he sneers, venom dripping from his tone. His eyes are akin to a madman’s as the warnings of the officers fall deaf to his ears.

He really is going to shoot.

Your eyes wander over to Seungcheol one last time before they fall closed the moment a gun goes off.

There is a ringing in your ears and you realise the right side of your face feels wet.

A couple of seconds pass by before you open your eyes to find Ryunwoo lying on the ground behind you with a bullet hole in his head. The police rush in as Seungcheol tugs you towards him, wrapping his arms around you as you stare at the dead body.

You feel like you are stuck in a trance as everything around you moves in slow motion, your eyesight getting slightly blurry as your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You do not know whether it is relief or trauma but your legs suddenly feel like jelly.

Seungcheol has to call your name multiple times to make you look at him. “___? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

You shake your head, blinking a few times to focus your vision. You are still lost in your own head, thinking about how close you were to getting exposed and how you managed to save yourself by a hairsbreadth. “The recorder?’’ You question quietly.

“Don’t worry, I have it.” He wraps his arms around you tighter.

A faint smile of relief comes to your face and you dare to rest your face on Seungcheol’s chest. To your utter relief, he does not oppose you but gently cradles your head.

“Thank you.” You hear him say. Surprised, you look up at his face to be greeted by a shocking sight. There is a beautiful smile on his lips that makes his eyes shine.

“For what?” You croak, suddenly emotional.

“For saving me.”

10 days later

Seungcheol’s best friend Jihoon is getting engaged today.

Clad in a pastel pink blouse and a matching skirt, you silently sit next to your fiance in the car, your eyes trained outside the window. Seungcheol, like most times, does not attempt to break the delicate silence.

It is frustrating, especially because this is how he has been for the past ten days. Silent. As if his ex-father-in-law did not hold a gun to your head and then got killed by the police. As if you did not murder his ex-fiance and the proof of it is in his hands.

The morning after that fateful night, both of you were asked at the police station for your statements. It was a basic procedure before they started uncovering the skeletons in Ryunwoo’s closet; the murders he committed right after he became the CEO of Lee Media to hide his corruption and the money he embezzled. His bankruptcy also came to light along with the millions of dollars of debt he was in and the shady works he did to earn money for it.

Soon after that, the news of Sumin cheating on Seungcheol also came out. Someone anonymously leaked pictures of her and the model she was dating and the public was ruthless with their comments even though Sumin was dead.

After all the news broke, they were the talk of the town. A group of reporters even tried to swarm you at every chance, hoping to get some details from you.

When you met Seungcheol later in the week, he did not bring up the issues at all and instead went about his day as normal, bewildering you. One might think that the news never reached him. He never addressed them and you were too anxious to bring them up, afraid to lose the minimum attention you were getting from him.

Still, your worries have not vanished into thin air. It has been a weird few days and the more time passes, you cannot help but think things will go awry any second and you will fall face down into a nightmare all over again.

The car comes to a halt in front of Jihoon’s house and a valet holds open your door, helping you step out. Seungcheol rounds the car to come next to you. “Come on,” he says, buttoning his suit and stepping forward. Your hands reach for him mindlessly as you stop him by grabbing his hand.

He turns back, a brow raised in confusion.

“Seungcheol.” You state, looking him in the eye.

“What?”

You have a lot to say; so much that the thoughts tangle into intricate knots in your head and provide your lips with nothing. He waits for you to speak and you finally whisper, “Do you still have the recorder?”

The look in his eyes changes as he steps closer to you, holding eye contact. “Why? Do you think I handed it over to the police?” He sounds amused.

“I—” You pause, unsure what to say. It is undeniable that a small part of you has been worrying about that.

A short laughter of amusement comes from his lips before he becomes serious. “I burned it, ___.”

Your eyes widen in astonishment. Parting your lips, you let out a breath of surprise.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” You whisper. “I was scared. You have been so quiet the last few days and—”

“I am trying to put what happened behind me.’’ He states, something foreign flashing in his eyes.

You remain silent, watching his face intently, hoping he can see the gratefulness in your eyes. His gaze is soft, brimming with an emotion you can’t put a name to but constricts your throat and makes your heart soar with hope. “Seungcheol, I—” You are cut off as he presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss that makes your toes curl. You lose your balance, your body falling against his as you melt in his arms.

A heated look of mischief and desire swims in his eyes when he pulls back to look at you.

“Call me Cheol,” he smirks, gripping your hand tightly by weaving his fingers with yours. With long steps he heads for the entrance, tugging you with him who is now sporting a love-struck grin.

When a villainess loves, she makes sure to get the guy no matter what it takes.

Want more of them? Click here for a bonus scene of 2k words that is only available on my Patreon! It is not only smutty but there is also a part from Seungcheol's pov!

A/N: okay, so that was that. how was it? do lmk your feedback. also, if you have any questions about the characters or anything you are curious about, send me an ask, I'll fill in the blanks for you. what did you think about the ending? i purposefully left it a bit open because i don't see them being all head over heels for e/o (i mean oc is a simp ofc but not cheol). in fact, i imagine a very different ending for them in the long run, lol. and who knows, maybe i will write a part 2 someday, no promises tho. and if you noticed (im sure you did) this one does not have almost any smut. the reason for that was one, i find it extremely hard to write and two, i might write a small smutty epilogue in my patreon depending on how well this fic is received. we'll see. anyways, i'll stop the rant now. stay healthy and happy!

#seventeen smut #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups imagines #seungcheol smut #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen angst #svt smut #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol fluff

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captainamericasmotercycle · 2 months

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Hi I was wondering if you could do a fic with Jacaerys x sister! Reader where they are at a gala/feast and ppl keep flirting with reader so Jave gets jealous and stuff. So when they go to their room at the end of the feast Jace makes her ride his face and makes sure she’s loud enough for everyone to hear that she’s his.

warnings: typical canon incest, jace x sister!reader (father is not specified), no dance of the dragons au, 18+ minors DNI, jace hates aemond in every universe, everyone lives au!!!, jace eating u out like a man starved, nyra and daemon giving kris jenner vibes???, cursing, the targtowers and targaryens are besties (kind of)

For your younger brother Lucerys’s name day of ten and five, your family decided it would be best to throw a feast for him.

He was becoming older and would soon inherit Driftmark, he needed a celebration to show that he is becoming a man and no longer a mere child.

Since your mother became Queen and your older half-brother became her heir, many people were interested in the lives of the royal family, so Luke’s name day was flooded with people from all over Westeros.

You were all dolled up in a fancy gown, you hair was braided so elegantly and intricately, and you moved with such grace that most eyes were on you throughout the night.

Luke joked to Jace that you may be able to find a lord husband tonight, but at his suggestion, Jace tensed up and his face hardened.

You sat with your family at the elevated table, you mother was in the middle, Daemon next to her, his daughters on his side of the table, you sat between Jace and your mother, and then sat Luke, Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon.

You watched in awe at the celebration, only imagining how grand a wedding could be.

People danced, wore lavish clothing, gorged themselves in the food, and occasionally approached the table to offer up gifts to your brother for his name day.

It was about halfway through the night when highborn men started to approach you, which was uncommon up until recent.

Every since you had turned ten and eight, and became more developed in certain places, you were consistently approached for your hand.

Lord Oscar Tully was the first to approach your table, you smiled gently at him, knowing his new situation.

“Hello, Princess. You look lovely tonight.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, a dark color dusting your cheeks, he was quite the charmer, and not bad looking either, “Thank you, Lord Tully. I heard about your grandsire, I offer my deepest condolences.”

He nods solemnly, “Thank you, Princess. I may have lost my grandsire, but I have gained a deep power and a great kingdom… one I hope you will consider in your future.”

You smiled gently, “I heard the Riverlands are beautiful, I would most definitely love to see them someday. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I just wanted to come and offer you some company, if you’ll have me?”

You looked to your mother who smiled at you, knowingly. You looked back to the young lord and nodded, “I’d love to.”

You came around the table, taking his arm in yours as he led you to the floor to dance.

Jace’s gaze hardened and he downed his cup of wine, slamming it down on the table harsher than intended. Luke and Joffrey giggled at him, Viserys and Aegon following their older brothers’ actions.

Luke leaned over to his brother, “Careful, your face might get stuck like that.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

“I’m just saying…”

“He’s not good enough for her—”

“You say that about every man and I could hardly agree with you, most of the Riverlands looks to House Tully for direction and leadership; she would be in a great position there as their lady.”

“Do you want me to leave the table and kill myself?”

“All I am saying is that maybe you should focus on yourself instead of our sister… you need to wed as well, create heirs for the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jace rolled his eyes, “You sound like Mother.”

Rhaenyra whipped her head to her sons, “I think he is right, Jace.”

“Of course you do.”

“You are too invested in something that does not concern you Jacaerys. Perhaps you need to start looking for your own Lady Wife.”

“I do not wish to wed.”

“I hate to tell you, but your wishes do not matter to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jace sighed, moving his gaze back to you and Lord Tully. You smiled as the two of you danced. Jace’s jealously only grew as he watched.

Oscar Tully was not good enough for you, no one is good enough for you… except Jace himself.

As the song ended, a new one started. Luke left the table with Rhaena, Joffrey and the twins were led to their chambers to be put to bed, your mother was in an intent conversation with Corlys and Rhaenys, and you had just been approached by Gwyane Hightower.

From the look on Gwyane’s face, Jace knew Gwyane was being smug with you, he scoffed, thinking that you would never be charmed by him, but when he saw you smiling, standing too close for comfort to him, he almost puked his supper all over the floor.

You danced and flirted with Gwyane Hightower for a bit of the night, making Jace more and more jealous.

As you finished with Gwyane, you returned to your seat, a big smile on your face.

“Enjoy your dance?” Jace asked, venom lacing his tongue.

“I did, as a matter of fact, Gwyane is… such a lovely knight. He’s a knight… did you know?”

Before Jace could respond, you were hugged lightly from behind by Helaena. She kissed you gently on the cheek, “Quite the collection of suitors you have assembled tonight.”

You giggled lightly, “I know! Quite fun, to be honest.”

Jace grunted from beside you, making you and Helaena both turn to him, “Are you alright?”

“Just fine,” he held his lips in a thin tight line.

You went back to your conversation with Helaena about her uncle, Gwayne and Lord Tully, when you were finally met by another suitor.

“Sister. Niece. Nephew,” Aemond stood in front of you, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Uncle,” you looked at him with raised brows.

“I was just wondering if you would join me for a dance. I’ve seen all of these useless men that call themselves suitors and figured you needed a more distinguished partner, such as a prince.”

You blinked slowly at him, Helaena nudged you with a smile. You quickly glanced at Jace and thought he looked like he was about to roll over and die.

You stood and came around the table to meet him, you took his offered hand, “Let’s see how well you dance, Uncle.”

Helaena watched the two of you walk away, “A great pair, the two of them, they’ll be fantastic together,” she took a grape off your plate, popping it in her mouth and walking off.

This was Jace’s last straw, seeing you dance with Aemond might have been the most painful thing he’s ever done in his entire life. After watching for just a couple moments, he could not stand it any longer.

His mother rolled her eyes, watching him seethe, “Jace.”

“What?”

“Go get her.”

“What?”

“Go. I can see it in your eyes.”

Jace stood, rushing down to you and grabbing your arm, stealing you away from Aemond.

You followed him, shocked at the sudden behavior. He yanked you to his chambers, leaving the doors open.

Once in his room, you pulled away from him, “Jacaerys! What is the meaning of this?”

“You! You are the meaning of this!” His yelling made you take a step back, he stalked up, putting his hand on either side of your face, holding on tightly, “You think you can tease me like that? Taking any man who offered his hand?”

“Jace-”

“You know they are no good for you. They may be nobles, but are they heir to the Iron Throne? You are simply doing this to upset me.”

Your voice became small, “I did not mean to upset you.”

You could feel wetness pooling in your small clothes beneath your gown. He shoved his face into yours, harshly smashing his lips on yours.

You stumbled back at the forced, you pushed him back to take a breath and think about what you are doing. After a couple deep breaths, you rushed at him, nearly mounting him.

He groped and grasped at every part of you, you doing the same to him. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking lightly at it.

You threw your head back as his teeth grazed the sensitive area of your neck. The two of your shuffled your way to his bed.

“Jace… the doors, someone might see or hear.”

“I hope they do.”

“But—”

He pushed you on his bed, “I want them to hear how good your brother can make you feel, how they will never be me, how they will never taste you.”

He spread your legs, pulling off your underclothes. He grabbed your thighs, flipping you to straddle his face.

You fell forward, steadying yourself up with your hands. You pushed yourself up back in a sitting position.

Jace yanked at your legs, pulling you further down onto his face. You felt his nose buried into your cunt, rubbing against your sensitive bud.

You were about to voice your concerns about suffocating him, but you suddenly gasped out as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe down your maidenhood.

He thrusted his tongue in and out of you roughly, you screamed out for everyone in the hall to hear, “Gods! Jace!”

Visceral animalistic sounds came from the back of your throat, sounds you had never heard before.

In the hall, the attention of the crowds was taken by your yells, guards grabbed at their swords, you mother rose suddenly at your scream, Daemon was on his feet and ready for an oncoming attack.

One of Jace’s personal guards came rushing into the room to promise that no one was in danger and that the two of you were… together in his chambers.

Your mother and Daemon’s faces instantly reddened. They shared a look of embarrassment and pride. On one hand, as your parents, they wanted to kill you both, but as the Queen and King Consort, they knew the realm would be in their children’s hands at their demise.

Tears rolled down your face as Jace fucked you with his tongue. You had never felt such pleasures in your entire life. It made you understand why lowborn men seek out such endeavors at the disloyalty of their wives.

Jace couldn’t get enough of you. You tasted sweeter than anything that’s ever touched his tongue. His tongue moved faster as you panted, moaned, and groaned above him.

As his pace quickened, you felt a tight coiling in your lower stomach.

“Jace… fuck!”

At your vulgarity, he quickened his pace. You came fast and harder than you ever thought you could. Jace took all of your juices into his mouth, not leaving a drop of your sweet release.

You collapsed next to him, panting outrageously. He lay next to you, breathless, laughing to himself. You grabbed a pillow, hitting him the face with it. He took it from you, tossing it on the ground.

He came to hover over you, trapping you beneath his figure. You leaned down and kissed your lips gently, you could still taste your arousal on his lips.

You stared at him with a smile, “I suppose you think making the entire Keep believe we were under attack is funny?”

“It was not I that made them think we were under attack. If I am not mistaken, it was you screaming your head off.”

“You were the one who yanked me away from the celebration.”

“Yes, but you were the one who made me.”

You scoffed, sitting up against the headboard, “Made you?”

“Yes, dancing with that Tully, the fucking Hightower knight, and worse of all, Aemond.”

“Mmm, sounds like you are jealous?” You taunted him sarcastically.

“They are not deserving of you.”

“And you are?”

“I am the heir to the Iron Throne and your blood. I am the most deserving.”

“So are you suggesting I should become Queen one day?”

“Hmm, I do not remember offering my hand to you to wed…”

You hit him in the stomach with the back of your hand, “You just had the entire Seven Kingdoms hear my screams while you were buried up my dress. I would slaughter you and become the heir myself if you did not ask for my hand after that.”

He took your hand in his, kissing the back of your palm, “I shall talk to Mother in the morn.”

You stared at your intertwined hands, “We should return…”

“You think we are able to return after the little show we put on?”

“I suppose you are right,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He got up, leaving you on his bed. He walked to his chamber doors, locking them.

He returned to you, laying on his back, “Perhaps we should just rest now, we shall deal with our consequences tomorrow.”

You lay with him, resting your head on his chest, he brought his hand to rub your arm, coaxing you to sleep.

He pressed a couple kiss to your hairline, “You will be my wife soon enough, dōna tala.”

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd season 2 #hotd

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

Text

every rose and its 'twin prickles'

Or: you and the two fearsome monsters, your knightly husband must wage a war against everyday, for the sake of a glimpse of you.

▸ dad!gojo satoru x mom!reader; 1.45 wc; fluff, fluff, gallons and gallons of fluff; a pair of cute, possessive and too-wise-for-their-age babies who love their mama wayyy too much; poor miserable deprived 'toru; sprinkles of humor too added in there; implied no curses!au

▸ i dump the blame of this on @afortoru's shoulders. A, look what you made me do ▸ writing this genre for the 1st time! characters, image or divider used aren't mine. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Do you know what’s the best thing about work?

Every evening it ends early.

Do you know what’s the best thing about home?

Every evening you’re there.

Walking into the barely-lit flat, a soft smile lights up the expanse of Satoru’s face as the quiet sounds of snoring float over from the bedroom. Dumping the bag on the sofa and shrugging off the coat, the man moves silently further into the apartment – weary mind conjuring images of you in an oversized black tee [of his], curled into yourself in the king-sized bed, the cutest little pout on your lips as you babble in your sleep – then pauses, a hand on the doorknob.

Two pairs of blue eyes sparkle at him from the almost-darkness of the room.

Satoru closes the door behind and slumps against it.

Two matching grins aim at his heart from the human blanket over your form.

Sharp. Shrewd. Cruel.

You wrap an arm round each of those two monkeys – the latter back here from their grandparents', two days before schedule.

Ten years ago, were anyone to tell Satoru there would be a day in the future when he would have to fight for you, only to taste defeat, again and again and again, the man would have emptied his glass of champagne on their clothes, then kicked them out of the reception party.

Yet, now... as he trudges closer to the door and extends a hand to brush a few wily wisps of hair away from your forehead – only to have it slapped away harshly by a little palm – he can’t help but wonder what sin he committed in his previous birth, to have received an angel like you as his wife, but two demons like them for his children.

Sachiko, the older of the twins, glares up at her father. “Papa, no!! Mama’s sleeping,” She whisper-yells, eyes darting from him to you than back to him, lips tugged down in a scowl, the likes of which he has only seen in a mirror. On your other side, a mop of white hair nods, albeit not without a tiny yawn – Sachiro’s definitely inherited your sleepiness in a rainy weather.

Satoru lifts an eyebrow in return. “I can see that, you two. Now go, play with your toys or something. I wanna cuddle with my wife.”

“But we too wanna cuddle with Mama,” Sachiko retorts as she slips out from under your arm and sits up on the bed. The tiny ponytail on her white head stays in a complete disarray; your husband watches your daughter tug at it a couple of times, frowning, before she gives up, returning her glower to him as she continues, “So, you can’t cuddle with her. Mama is ours now.”

Your son again gives a small “yes” at her words, followed by a yawn – a reaction which Sachiko doesn’t deem to be enough, apparently, given how she throws a glare his way next. “Hey, whose team are you on, dumbo? Mine or Papa’s?”

The answer arrives in an instant, in the most matter-of-factly voice possible from a five-year-old. “Yours, obviously. I don’t want Papa to steal Mama away. She’s ours.”

The smug grin directed his way next makes Satoru want to flick two foreheads pretty hard – but he doesn’t. Any rash or impulsive action can only do him more harm now, driving him further away from his goal.

So, cogs whirring in his brain, he crouches down to his kids’ eye level and smiles.

“What do you think of a compromise, kids? Why don’t you make a deal with me?”

Two pairs of blue clash with the original pair of blue for a while, suspicion in one, suspicious curiosity in the other, while challenge swirls in the last; before a huff breaks the staring contest and your daughter folds her arms across her chest. Exchanging a glance and a nod with her, your son too sits up and announces, “Okay, we’re interested. What’s the deal?”

Your husband lets out an internal whoop of victory.

“Belgian chocolates in exchange for a cuddling session with my wife.”

“Bleh!” Sachiko makes a disgusted face – something which takes him back to his younger days when Suguru and Shoko used to imitate his expressions – and whines, “They are so bitter, yuck! Suggest something better.”

“A doll house for you and a car for Sachiro, if that’s the case.”

The latter is the one to turn down this time. Tone brimmed with disappointment – something he can only ever learn from you – he says, “But you just bought us one last month, Papa! Mama always asks you to save money... why don’t you ever listen to her?”

A knife of guilt lodges itself into his heart and twists. Satoru sighs. “I do... I try to, always, but you two make it so difficult for me to! Why are you like this? Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her? She is as much my wife as much she’s your mom.”

“We know,” The addressed two answer in unison with sage little nods of their head. The girl continues with a grave expression matching her brother’s, “But we can also ask you the same, Papa. She is as much our mom as she’s your wife. Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?”

“Besides, you spent five extra years with her, before we were born. We just want to make up for the time lost,” Sachiro chimes in with a pout. “Tell us, Papa,” The two again speak in a heart-wrenching chorus, “Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?”

“The kids are right, y’know?” A mumble pops the gravity of the situation at hand, and Satoru looks down to find you awake, cracking an amused smile at them. He huffs, rising from the floor and plopping on the bed next to you, arms folded against chest.

“Can’t believe I am so unloved and unwanted in this world. My kids don’t love me. They don’t listen to me. My wife too doesn’t love me. She never supports me. Welp, got to be the unluckiest to be in my shoes right now, I guess.”

Your husband pauses, giving a small break for the words to sink into everyone, before you let out a long exhale and send him a minor twitch of your lips. Sachiko moves to pat his head, the same moment Sachiro reaches over to clasp his small arms around his neck. You too rise and embrace him from behind, placing a small kiss in between his shoulder blades.

“Y’know, it’s not like that,” You say, placing your ear on his back, “Just ’cause the kids love me more doesn’t mean they don’t love you. And it’s not even your fault – my personality is so awesome, everyone can’t help but adore me the moment they see me – isn't that right, babies?”

“Right, Mama,” A pair of wonderstruck voices ring out in reply to your jocular question – you continue in the same note, with another kiss, this time on the nape of his neck.

“And because your awesome Mama’s asking you now, will you two be good babies and let Papa too sleep here with us? Look at him: he’s so tired and sad. You don’t want your dearest Papa to be sad and tired, right? You will let him cuddle with us, won't you?”

Satoru watches the twins look at each other for a second, then the younger acquiesce, “Papa can cuddle with us. That’s okay, maybe.” The two then proceed to shoot a particularly sharp look at him; one he responds to with a cheeky smirk, which disappears into a soft smile when he feels you manoeuvre his face towards yourself, a light grasp on his chin.

“See, the kids agreed. Now, are you feeling loved and wanted?”

“Infinitely more,” He replies with a peck on your lips – however, before he can deepen the kiss a tad more, you bring him into a sleeping posture beside you, the kids immediately piling on top of the two of you. You offer him something between a cute pout and a sorry smile, which earns a wink from your husband.

Turning to one side, Satoru drags you, Sachiko lying on top of you and Sachiro lying in between him and you, into himself, letting him be lulled to sleep by the melody of your laughs and your kids’ half-hearted harrumphs.

Do you know what’s the best thing about life?

Every tiniest bit of it he gets to spend beside you, the light of his life, and the two imps, your and his love brought into this world – even if he knows he’s going to get kicked out of bed the very microsecond you fall asleep again.

▸ masterlist

#dad!gojo x mom!reader #dad!gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo fic #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

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gojoluvs · 4 months

Text

J'adore

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

summary, “her world turned upside down when her boss announced that he was the father of her unborn child. As she navigates her new life as a wife and mother, she finds herself falling for her husband's best friend, Suguru Geto. But is it love she feels? or just a desperate attempt to be noticed by someone other than her husband..”

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, violence.

Genre; angst, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader, modern au!, business au!

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message.

7k words

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"Welcome Mrs. Gojou, will you take a seat please?" The brown-haired woman gestured towards the chair in front of her desk.

You followed her instructions and sat down, taking in the sterile, white room around you.

The woman, who you assumed was the ultrasound technician, grabbed her gloves and a bottle of hand sanitizer, making sure to clean her hands before beginning the procedure.

As she prepared the ultrasound machine, you couldn't help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. This was your first ultrasound, and you couldn't wait to see your baby for the first time.

The technician, sensing your anxiousness, smiled and said, "Don't worry, everything will be just fine."

You nodded and took a deep breath as you slowly laid down on the ultrasound table. The technician applied some gel to your stomach and began moving the wand around, searching for a clear image of your baby. As she did so, she asked, "How have you been feeling, Y/N?"

You smiled and replied, "A little tired and nauseous, but overall, I'm doing well.”

As you settled into Satoru's lavish house, the only person you could really call a friend was his maid. She was kind and always made sure you were well taken care of. However, Satoru had a different idea of taking care of you.

He insisted that you stop working because, for him, he made over 7 figures as the CEO of one of the most well-known stock markets. He wanted you to focus on being a housewife and living a life of luxury.

You had never been one to rely on a man for financial stability, but Satoru's charm and wealth was hard to resist. Plus, he seemed genuinely caring and attentive towards you. However, as you spent more time in his house, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness and lack of purpose.

As she squeezed the cold gel onto your stomach, you couldn't help but think about your old job and the satisfaction it gave you.

You missed the feeling of being independent and working towards your own goals. But for now, you were stuck in this luxurious prison, under the control of a man who inherited his wealth and business from his father.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was the life you truly wanted, or if you were just settling for the convenience and comfort that Satoru provided. As the cold gel seeped into your skin, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was missing.

Although you were excited about your upcoming marriage, there was also a sense of unease and disappointment. You couldn't help but wish that your fiancee, Satoru, could be with you during this time.

But the reality was that he was always busy with work, his success as the youngest CEO in Japan consuming his every waking moment.

You often found yourself alone in bed at night, the emptiness and coldness a constant reminder of his absence. Despite the lavish and extravagant lifestyle that came with being engaged to such a successful man, you couldn't help but feel like you were missing out on something more important - quality time and genuine love.

After all, your relationship with Satoru was an arranged marriage, forced upon you after you became pregnant with his child. And as much as you tried to please his family and win their acceptance, there were always those who looked down upon you and your situation.

But deep down, you couldn't help but resent Satoru for his lack of affection and attention towards you, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were truly happy in this arrangement.

“If you can see here,” She grabbed her monitor turning it to face you. You knew her as one of Satoru’s friends. “Your baby is barely a tiny embryo, about the size of a pea.”

You smiled, seeing the small fetus on the monitor. You wished that Satoru could be here with you. Holding your hand and caressing your head but instead here you were. By yourself watching as the screen showed the small heartbeat of your baby.

After what felt like both the longest and shortest 20 minutes of your life, the technician turned off the machine and smiled at you. "Everything looks great, Y/N. Your baby is healthy and growing right on track."

As you stared at the screen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt and insecurity. Would your fiancee ever truly see you as his partner, or would you always just be a means to an end? The ultrasound picture in your hand seemed to mock you, a reminder of the life growing inside you that would bind you to this man forever.

But deep down, you knew the truth. Satoru was still in love with Asami, his beautiful and practical secretary. You had never been properly introduced to her, always feeling like an outsider in your own relationship. You couldn't even go back to work, as Utahime would constantly update you on everything happening in the office - including Asami's constant presence and the expensive gifts she received from Satoru.

The constant flowers and expensive gifts Satoru's lover received from your fiancée only added insult to injury. While you never expected extravagant gifts, you never even received a simple gesture of affection from Satoru. He never touched you, never kissed you goodbye, and never gave you a hug. Whenever you would try to connect with him by asking about his work or if he was hungry, he would give you the cold shoulder.

Despite not being a great cook, you made an effort to prepare breakfast for Satoru like a professional. You whipped up pancakes and served them on a platter, hoping he would enjoy them. But time and time again, he would make an excuse about being "late" for work and leave without even taking a bite.

It seemed like all your efforts to connect with Satoru were overlooked and unappreciated. The only person who seemed to enjoy your company was his maid, who was kind and always treated you with respect. It was clear that your fiancée was not only mean and an asshole, but also had no interest in building a loving and fulfilling relationship with you.

“Would you like me to print the picture for you?” She asked her soft brown eyes boring into you. She was absolutely gorgeous aswell, her noticable eyebags bringing her features out.

“Yes please,” Wiping off the gel she got up, throwinf away the piece of paper before leaving the room.

You sat there, the ac blowing. Placing a hand on your stomach you couldn’t believe you were actually having a baby with your boss.

You never really had a serious relationship with anyone, always having flings. Yet you found yourself making out with your boss after his promotion party.

There was something about the way his eyes stared hungrily at you, maybe it was the liquor that made you two sleep together but now here you were. Sitting down awaiting for a picture of your baby.

Fidgeting with the button of your jeans you waited nervously. Hoping that maybe this would mean a new opportunity to be with Satoru.

"Alright, everything seems to be good, here you go," said the doctor entering the room with a small picture of your ultrasound. She handed it to you with a warm smile, and you eagerly grabbed it, feeling a sense of joy and excitement wash over you.

"Thank you so much," you said, beaming with happiness. You grabbed your purse and quickly made your way out of the room, eager to share the news with your fiancee. As you hurried down the stairs and out of the building, you could feel your heart racing with anticipation.

Your fiancee was waiting for you in his black range rover, looking as handsome as ever. You opened the car door and climbed inside, a bit out of breath from the stairs. "What took you so long?" he asked, side eying you with a hint of annoyance.

"I'm sorry, I just had to grab something," you replied, handing him the picture of your ultrasound. But instead of sharing in your excitement, he just scoffed and spat out, "I'm not looking at that." He carelessly threw the picture back at you, his words stinging like a slap in the face.

You felt your heart sink as you looked down at the picture, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't believe the callousness and lack of empathy in his words. But you knew deep down that this was just a glimpse of the kind of person he truly was.

"Listen, I'm going to take you back home," your fiancé said, his voice cold and condescending. "Mina has a dress ready for you. There's going to be a business party and I want you to be on your best behavior." He licked his lips suggestively and pressed the button to roll down the car window.

You felt a knot form in your stomach as you nervously played with the picture of your ultrasound. You knew your husband's business parties were nothing more than excuses for him to flirt with his colleagues and show off his trophy wife.

"A business party? Will everyone from the office be there?" you asked, forcing yourself to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the road, not bothering to spare a glance at you.

"Of course they will," he replied, his tone condescending. "And I expect you to make a good impression. We don't want anyone knowing our personal business, do we?"

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to argue. You knew it would be pointless. Your fiancé always got what he wanted, and you were just a pawn in his game. But as he continued to talk about the party, you couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that had settled in your chest.

“There will be an after party as well, but you won't be attending since,” he paused for a moment, his eyes flickering down to your stomach before returning to the road. “You're pregnant.”

"Just because I'm carrying your child doesn't mean anything, Satoru." You spat back, angrily putting your picture inside your purse.

"I'm taking Asami with me instead. You can stay home and rest." You glared at him, feeling hurt and furious at his insensitivity. How dare he take his assistant and ex-lover to the after party instead of you? Your blood boiled with anger and resentment towards your fiancee.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Why would you need your assistant there and not me? I'm your fucking fiancee, Satoru," you snapped, unable to contain your frustration.

"She's not just an assistant, Y/N," Satoru replied sharply. "And what did I say about talking back to me?" He gave you a warning look, his gaze boring into you. You wanted to scream and punch him for the nerve of not taking you, but you knew it would only make things worse.

"You know what? I don't even want to go to the stupid after party," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'll stay here and enjoy some peace and quiet while you go gallivanting with your little plaything." You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, hurt and anger mixing together to form a bitter concoction.

The more you thought about it, the more resentful you became. It was bad enough that Asami was his assistant, but the fact that they used to be lovers only added salt to the wound. You couldn't believe he would choose her over you. It felt like a slap in the face.

Satoru's face hardened and he clenched his jaw. "Don't you dare talk about Asami like that. She's just my assistant."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Just like how she was just your lover, right?"

Satoru's expression turned dark as he glared at you. "Watch your tone, she is a professional and a valuable member of our team."

"Valuable in more ways than one, I'm sure," you retorted, your jealousy and anger fueling your words.

"Stop with your baseless accusations and insecurities," Satoru shot back, his voice dripping with irritation. "Asami and I have a strictly professional relationship, unlike you and your constant mood swings."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaimed, struggling to contain your anger. "You have no respect for me, even though I am pregnant with your child."

Satoru rolled his eyes and slammed the car door shut as he pulled into the driveway. You followed suit, opening the car door and slamming it with a loud thud. This man had no regard for your feelings or well-being, constantly belittling and disrespecting you.

As you entered the house, you could feel the tension in the air. You placed your things on the counter and grabbed the ultrasound picture, placing it on the fridge with a small magnet. You couldn't help but smile at the small embryo growing inside you, a glimmer of hope in the midst of your tumultuous relationship.

"Ms. Y/N," your maid appeared behind you, her gentle hands taking your coat and bag from you before leading you to your bedroom. You followed her, grateful for the brief respite from Satoru's intense gaze.

Satoru entered after you, his confident steps echoing in the hallway. He placed a hand on his tie before undoing it, his eyes never leaving yours. You closed the bedroom door, letting out a shaky breath as you leaned against it. Unbuttoning your jeans, you let them fall to the floor before walking to your bathroom. The cold marble floor felt refreshing against your bare feet.

"Um, Mina, can you please have my things out? We'll be leaving soon," you said, forcing a smile as you silently closed the door behind you.

Being away from Satoru's presence for a few minutes felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. You began undressing the rest of yourself, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were drawn to the tiny bump on your stomach, only six weeks along but already noticeable.

You open the glass door, feeling a cool breeze hit your skin as you step into the shower. You test the water temperature with your hand and adjust it to your liking before stepping fully under the stream. Grabbing the shampoo bottle, you slowly pour some onto your hand and massage it into your hair, relishing the feeling of cleanliness and freshness.

But as the water runs down your body, you can't help but feel a sense of unease. This whole thing feels wrong. You place both of your hands on your face, the water washing away any traces of tears. You hate this. You hate being away from home, from your family. Even though the only family you have left is your father.

The shower is quick, scrubbing your body with a loofah and doing all your essentials before stepping out. You wrap your body in a fluffy towel and slip on your slippers, walking out of the restroom and into your bedroom. The familiar scent of your own room comforts you, but it also serves as a reminder of how far away you are from home. You long for the familiarity and warmth of your family, but for now, this temporary living situation will have to do.

Your eyes were drawn to the beautiful dark red gown laid out on your bed. Walking towards it, you couldn't resist the urge to touch the fabric and feel the soft silk through the fingertips of your fingers. "Mina!" You yelled, quickly grabbing your underwear and putting it on before your maid came in.

Mina's face was slightly flushed as she entered your room and bowed, closing the door behind her. You could tell she was a bit flustered from seeing your body half-naked, but she remained professional as she awaited your command. "Do you think you can help me get into the dress?" You asked kindly, picking up the gown and passing it to her.

With a nod, Mina approached you and carefully helped you into the dress. She adjusted the straps and made sure it fit you perfectly, like it was made for you. You couldn't help but feel like a princess as you admired yourself in the mirror. "Thank you, Mina," you said with a smile.

Mina then handed you a pair of white gloves and you slid them onto your arms. Mina bowed once again, ready to leave and let you finish getting ready.

But before she could, you stopped her and said, “Please Mina, Help me with my hair will you?” You asked kindly, watching as she made you sit on your vanity, excusing herself for a moment to get the tools and supplies she needed you stared at yourself in the mirror.

As you sat in front of your vanity, Mina carefully brushed out your hair and began styling it into an elegant updo. You couldn't believe how kind she was being, helping you with something as simple as your hair. You were used to doing everything on your own, but Mina's presence made you feel cared for and pampered.

She applied makeup and added finishing touches to your hair, you couldn't help but stare at your reflection. You looked like a completely different person, someone who belonged in a fairytale or a fancy ball. This was all so new to you, as you were used to wearing work clothes or comfortable sweats.

But you had to admit, you looked stunning. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to feel like a princess, basking in the luxury of it all. But deep down, you knew this wasn't really you. You were just a simple person, and all of this was foreign to you.

Mina's hands moved quickly, expertly adorning you with various pieces of jewelry. "We have this pearl necklace, it brings out your collarbones more, and this one," she said, holding up a red jeweled necklace, "it brings out your facial features, especially your eye color."

As she placed the necklace around your neck, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Her short bobbed hair and dark green eyes were mesmerizing. You couldn't resist smiling at her as she finished her task.

"Which one do you think is better, Mina?" you asked, admiring yourself in the mirror.

Mina seemed taken aback by your question, stuttering slightly before recomposing herself. She carefully chose the red necklace and placed it back on you, clipping the clasp in place. "The red jewel really makes you look like a princess, Miss Gojo," she said with a smile as you turned to face her.

You couldn't help but feel grateful for Mina's help. Her attention to detail and eye for beauty made you feel like royalty. "Thank you, Mina," you said, genuinely touched by her kindness.

Mina smiled back and gave you a small nod before stepping back to admire her work. "You look stunning," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel confident and beautiful, thanks to Mina's expert styling. You were lucky to have her as your friend and maid.

The whole time you spent gossiping and getting to learn about Mina's life, you couldn't help but admire her. She was truly a sweet soul, always kind and hardworking despite being in a low-paying job as your maid. Her resilience and positive attitude were something you looked up to. As you walked through your luxurious home, you couldn't help but feel guilty.

Mina deserved a better life, one with more opportunities and less back-breaking labor. Your heels clicked on the marble floor, a reminder of the stark contrast between your lives. As you grabbed your designer purse and said your goodbyes to Mina, you couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility towards her.

"Please, take this time off and get some rest," you insisted, knowing how hard she worked every day. You watched as she reluctantly agreed, and as you walked out of your home, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you wished you could do more for her.

Closing the door behind you as you walked out of your house, you felt a sense of tension in the air. Satoru was standing on the driveway, his arms pushed into the pockets of his black suit, his back leaning against his sleek Mercedes Benz. As you approached him, his gaze was fixed on you, his eyes scanning every inch of your body. You could feel his intense stare, making you self-conscious about how you looked.

You were wearing a stunning dress that hugged your body perfectly, accentuating your curves in all the right places. Your face was glowing, and your collarbones were prominently displayed, making you feel both beautiful and vulnerable under his gaze.

But Satoru's reaction is what surprises you. His mouth slightly agape, he looks like he's seeing you for the first time. You pass by him, unable to resist a small smile as you hear him let out a soft sigh.

"Don't look at me like that," you say, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

You reach for the passenger door and open it, climbing into the car and trying to ignore the intensity of Satoru's gaze. "Like what?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Like you've never seen me before," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Satoru doesn't respond, but you can feel the tension between you. It's been building up since you walked out of the house, and now it's almost palpable in the air. You can't help but wonder what he's thinking, what he wants to say.

Finally, he opens the car door and gets in, his eyes never leaving yours. The drive to your destination is filled with a charged silence, the tension between you growing with each passing minute. But for now, you just sit in the car, the only sound the quiet hum of the engine and the beating of your heart.

Ignoring his presence, your gaze shifted to the window, taking in the familiar scenery outside. The trees rustled in the gentle breeze, and the sun was just starting to set, casting a warm glow over the quiet neighborhood. You watched as he backed the car out of the driveway and onto the road, his expression unreadable.

The car ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the occasional glance exchanged between the two of you. His hair was slicked back, accentuating his sharp jawline, and you couldn't help but notice the engagement ring on his finger as he turned the wheel to take a sharp turn. Your own ring felt heavy on your finger, and you couldn't stop fidgeting with it nervously.

Sitting in the luxurious car, dressed in a designer gown and adorned with expensive jewelry, you couldn't believe that this was your life now. Just a few weeks ago, you were a struggling employee, barely making ends meet and working for a difficult boss. You didn't know that he would be the man you would be engaged to, or that you would end up pregnant with his child. And now, you were about to marry him in an arranged marriage, all because of that one night of passion.

Looking out the window, you couldn't help but think about the life you could have had if you didn't get pregnant. Maybe you would have met someone else, someone who you could have married and had a family with. But instead, you were now a part of one of the most powerful and influential families in the country. The Gojo family was treated like royalty, and you were now going to become a part of it.

This was the man you would spend the rest of your life with, and it all started with one unexpected pregnancy.

Stepping out of the car, the bustling sounds of the city surrounded you. Gojo, your fiancé, opened the door for you and grabbed your hand, placing it gently on his forearm. The luxurious car door closed with a satisfying thud and Gojo handed the keys to the parking attendant who quickly took his car to the reserved section of the party.

Outside of the building, a sea of paparazzi awaited your arrival, their cameras flashing and voices yelling. You held onto your elegant dress, carefully making your way up the stairs as Gojo led the way. As soon as the paparazzi spotted your fiancé, they erupted into a frenzy, shouting his name and begging for him to look at their cameras. You held onto Gojo's arm tightly, feeling slightly overwhelmed by all the attention.

"Gojo! Over here!" they yelled, their voices competing for his attention. He pulled you closer, shielding you from the flashes and noise before finally stopping to pose for a photo, much to the delight of the paparazzi.

Satisfied with your appearance, you confidently walked over to the entrance of the grand building. As you stepped inside, you were met with the grandeur of the foyer - a large chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm and inviting glow over the space.

The sound of lively conversations and laughter filled the air as you made your way through the crowded hallway, passing clusters of elegantly dressed men and women. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as you walked further into the party, the energy and sophistication of the room enveloping you. Everywhere you looked, there were people engaged in lively conversations, sipping on glasses of champagne or wine, and admiring each other's luxurious gowns and suits.

Satoru cleared his throat once he spotted Asami, wearing a tight long black dress. She scurried towards you, glancing at you before smiling for a split second. Her smile seemed fake, as if she was trying too hard to appear friendly. You could feel your blood boiling as she placed her hand on his bicep and turned to look at you.

You could see the tension in her eyes as she tried to maintain her composed facade. "Do you mind if I take him for a moment?" she asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Your eyes narrowed at her before turning to look at your fiancé's expression. He seemed uncomfortable, almost avoiding eye contact with you. "I don't give a fuck what you do," you spat back, your anger and frustration rising.

You couldn't believe this woman had the audacity to try and take your fiancé away from you, even just for a moment. You walked away from the ex lovers, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor echoing in the hallway.

You walked away, Feeling Asami's eyes on you, almost like she was waiting for you to lash out at her. But you didn't want to give her the satisfaction. You didn't want to stoop to her level and engage in her petty games. You rolled your eyes at them, walking away and distancing yourself from the drama. You didn't want to deal with her bullshit, especially not while you were pregnant and already dealing with enough emotions. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just the fact that you couldn't stand her, but you were glad to have walked away from that toxic situation.

You were standing next to a table in the corner of the room, watching the crowd of people mingling and laughing. You let out a sigh, feeling a bit left out. You really did wish you could drink right now, but you knew you couldn't. Not with the baby growing inside of you. Suddenly, a girl approached your table, placing a cup of champagne on it before turning to look at you. She was wearing a beautiful white dress, her long brown hair cascading down her back.

"Are you the new fiancée of Satoru?" she asked, watching as you turned to face her. You were a bit taken aback by her sudden question. How did she know who you were? And why was she approaching you?

"Yes, who may you be?" you asked politely, trying to hide your confusion. The girl smiled at you, her eyes showing slight signs of exhaustion.

"Sorry, we met earlier," she explained. She extended her hand out, waiting for you to grab it and shake it. You smiled back and shook her hand, trying to place where you might have met her before.

"I was the ultrasound technician who did your appointment earlier today," she said, taking a sip of the champagne. It all clicked in your mind now. This was the kind woman who had performed your ultrasound and showed you the image of your little bundle of joy.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Ieiri," you said, grateful for her introduction. You couldn't help but notice the slight bags under her eyes, a sign of her long and tiring day.

"Please, call me Shoko," she said with a warm smile, retreating her hand and taking another sip of champagne. You couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity with her, and you were grateful for her presence in this unfamiliar gathering.

Thats when it happened, completely star struck. You instantly recognized him, Suguru Geto. The man who partnered up with your fiancee for one of the most known stock exchange in Japans history.

He walked into the room with confidence, his tall frame and sharp features immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He wore a sleek black suit, his hair styled in a neat bun with a few strands of hair falling out to frame his face. His dark eyes scanned the room, his presence commanding attention and respect.

As he approached your table, he had a warm and gentle smile on his face. He placed his glass of champagne down and turned to look at you. His eyes scanned over your body, taking in every detail. You could feel his gaze on you, causing your heartbeat to quicken. His eyes stopped at your face, lingering on your lips before looking back up to meet your gaze.

"Absolutely gorgeous," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. He reached for your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. Your heart fluttered at his touch, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of electricity between the two of you. He placed your hand back down with a smile, his eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn't believe it. This had to be a dream, a cruel trick your brain was playing on you. But as the music filled your ears and Suguru's hand gently rested on the small of your back, you couldn't help but feel like you were in a fairytale.

"I- Uhm," you stuttered, feeling your heart race as you tried to recompose yourself. "Thank you."

Suguru's gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on yours as he introduced himself. "I'm Suguru Geto," he said, his voice low and smooth.

"I'm Y/N. Y/N L/N," you replied, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks as he looked at you with a smile. You couldn't believe you were standing next to him, the man you've admired from afar for so long.

"Would you like to dance Y/N?" Suguru asked, his voice low and filled with admiration as he looked at you. His dark hair fell over his intense gaze, making you feel like the only person in the room.

"Me?" You stuttered, taken aback by his request. The Suguru Geto, known for his aloofness and cold demeanor, was asking you to dance with him at this fancy party. And to make it even more surprising, no one else was dancing.

With a nod, Suguru stepped closer to you. "Of course you, who else?" His hand reached out to gently rest on your back as he led you towards the dance floor.

As the music continued to play, Suguru's hand moved from your back to intertwine with yours. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as he led you to the dance floor, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The steamy tension between the two of you was palpable as you swayed to the music, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

He turned you to face him, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, making your heart race even faster. His hand clasped yours tightly, his fingers entwined with yours as he put his other hand on your back, pulling you close to him. You couldn't help but inhale sharply as you felt his cold palms touch your skin, the contrast between his cool touch and the warmth of his body sending your senses into overdrive.

As you looked away, you noticed people beginning to stare at the two of you, their eyes filled with curiosity and perhaps a hint of envy. But you were too lost in the moment, too entranced by Suguru's touch and the way his eyes seemed to burn into yours, to care about anyone else. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you became acutely aware of the intense gaze he had fixed on you.

And then, as if he could sense your discomfort, he spinned you around, his hand on your back guiding your movements as he pulled you even closer. Your dress flowed slightly as he moved, his eyes never leaving yours. And then, with a mischievous smile on his face, he leaned in close and whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Ignore them," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded as you continued to dance in a slow pace, others beginning to join you aswell. Before you knew it most of the people at the party where dancing along with their partners. Smiles and giggles filled the room.

You were smiling at Suguru, your heart beating with excitement as he spun you around on the dance floor. Suddenly, you felt yourself being snatched away from his grasp, and your eyes landed on your fiancée’s face that was full of anger.

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at Suguru, who was standing there staring at you and Satoru. Raising his eyebrows, Satoru cocked his head towards his best friend and said, “So we’re letting other men touch you now?”

You scoffed at his possessiveness as he placed his hand on your back, his nails scratching your skin as he pulled you close. You could feel his muscles tense as you danced with him, maintaining eye contact in defiance. “So now you want to start paying attention to me after I’m seen dancing with another guy?” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. As you spun around, your hands extended outwards, and he did a half turn, pulling you back against his chest as you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

Even though you were dancing with his best friend, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your fiancée's touch. His strong arms wrapped around you, his breath on your neck, and the way he effortlessly moved with you made it hard to resist.

"Your my fiancée," he said, his voice low and filled with desire. As he leaned in closer, you could feel his hot breath on the back of your head, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. "And he's my best friend," he added, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes.

"And? You were off with Asami doing god knows what," you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned away from him. But he quickly grabbed your arm and spun you back around to face him. His hands trailed over your body, causing shivers to run down your spine as you fought to keep your composure. But the music and the buzz of the party seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the middle of the dance floor.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes scanned over your dress and back to your eyes.

"No, disgusted," you spat back, narrowing your eyes at him. But he didn't seem fazed, his smirk only growing wider.

"After all, you are just a man," you added, pushing yourself away from him and walking towards the restroom. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away, and you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder to see him standing there, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

But your eyes quickly landed on Suguru, who was standing off to the side, watching you with a mixture of longing. You gave him a small smile before turning back to the hallway.

Sighing, you walked towards the ladies room and to the sink, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. You turned on the faucet, the sound of the rushing water a soothing background noise. As you washed your hands, you couldn't help but glance up at your reflection in the mirror.

But as you turned around to leave, you bumped into someone, causing their purse to fall to the ground. Immediately, you bent down to pick it up, dusting it off gently before handing it back to the person.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-" you began to apologize, but quickly stopped as you saw the familiar smile on Asami's face. Your annoyance with her grew as you realized she was probably enjoying this encounter. She scanned her eyes all over you, making you feel exposed and uncomfortable.

"It's okay," she said, her voice almost sing-song as she watched you with a pout. You couldn't help but narrow your eyes at her, your annoyance evident in the way your eyebrows twitched. But before you could say anything, she smiled again and turned to you, tilting her head slightly.

"Y/n?" She called out, her voice almost teasing. You turned to her, your expression still showing your irritation. But she didn't seem to care as she continued to smile at you, her head tilted to the side in a playful manner. It was clear that she was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you couldn't help but feel annoyed at her childish behavior.

"I'm so happy you don't mind that Satoru promoted me to take over your spot in the office," Her lips curled into a smile almost sadistic. Your expression went from annoyed to disbelief as you realized that she was reveling in your misery.

"Y'know, I really did like being his Assistant but now that he promoted me, I can be with him more often..." she paused, stepping closer and tilting her head, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "And maybe be even promoted as an associate!" she chirped, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

Clasping her hands together, she waited for you to speak up. But instead, you chuckled, licking your lips as you stared at her, the anger and disgust rising in your throat. "So this is what gets you off?" you said, lowering your eyes and looking at her with disgust.

"Huh?" she replied, stunned at what you were saying.

"Do you enjoy seeing me annoyed? Do you get pleasure from making me mad?" You scoffed, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms. The music of the party was muffled and the sounds of people talking outside could be heard, but all you could focus on was Asami's twisted enjoyment at your expense.

"Asami, you're nothing but a burden to me," You sneered your eyes cold and calculating. Asami's smile faltered for a split second before she began to laugh at you. The sound was shrill and mocking, causing a chill to run down your spine.

But then, Asami's laughter stopped abruptly and she stepped closer to you. "Is that what you really think?" she asked, her lips twitching into a sly smile. "That I'm a burden to you?" Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and you could see the anger burning in her eyes. "Well, Y/N, let me tell you something. I am not a burden. In fact, I am your worst fucking nightmare."

"You're just another weak and pathetic girl who thinks she can take my place in Satoru's life." She took another step closer, until your faces were only inches apart. "But let me make one thing clear, Y/N. Satoru will never love you like he loved me. And I will make sure that you suffer for trying to take him away from me."

Asami's breath was hot and putrid, and you couldn't help but gag at the smell. But she seemed to revel in your discomfort, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "And now, with you carrying his child, you are even more of a burden to him. He will never be able to fully commit to you because of that," she sneered, her words like daggers in your heart.

"Really, Asami?" You said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you were just a pathetic ex who couldn't move on." Asami's eyes narrowed at the insult. "But I see now that you're not just pathetic, you're also delusional." Your words were like daggers, and you could see them hitting their mark as Asami's expression twisted in anger.

"You know what, Y/N?" Asami said through gritted teeth. "You may think you have some sort of power over me because you're pregnant with Satoru's baby, but you're wrong." Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of her pregnancy, but she refused to show any reaction.

You couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. "Honey, you couldn't even handle a day in my shoes," you said confidently. "But hey, if you want to try and make my life a living hell, go ahead. I could use a good laugh." Asami's face turned red with rage, but she couldn't come up with a response.

Before she could say anything someone else walked in, breaking the small argument between you and Asami, smiling you walked passed her and out of the restroom just to be met with the face of Suguru. You looked stunned, he followed you all the way here?

Pushing past him he grabbed your arm, stopping you from walking away, “Y/N, wait,”

“I want you to work by my side,” he said taking the card out and handing it to you.

“Just call me,” He said before smiling at you and excusing himself.

You fidgeted with the card, feeling the rough material before turning and watching Suguru go back into the party.

taglist: @ryumurin @h0neysiba @satoruontopofme @nerdiellers @iaminyourfloors @aleigant @stariiesz

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askcursedcharles · 3 months

Note

*an option menu appears with the choices "add butterfinger to Orlando" or "add orlando to butterfinger".*

🎧: "I don't get the logic of these buttons sometimes bro."

#henry stickmin #ask blog #ask inherited curse charles #askblog #ask charles #thsc #askcursedcharles #askinheritedcurse #inherited curse au #art

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goldleaf-blog · 9 months

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World Gone Mad - The Fold

#cursed inheritance au #evil lloyd #evil! lloyd au #lloyd garmadon #ninjago #art

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queers-gambit · 11 months

Text

Not All That Glitters is Gold

prompt: during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you. or finding out he calls you clingy behind your back.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: cursing, draaaama, mild angst, AU timeline technically, hurt and comfort (reader don't play those games i guess), relationship angst, half edited.

His cloak was a shimmering beacon of golden glimmer even in the dark of night. It promoted an air of confidence and swagger, something independent from his usual cockiness. No, with that gold cloak, he walked as if the very air you all breathed was produced by him; being silent and domineering in his presence. It had been something you were initially attracted to, his alluring mystery and overwhelming stoic self-awareness.

He moved around the Throne Room like wings were gifted to his feet, carrying him with lithe movements to look as if gliding. All eyes were on him, whether out of admiration, jealousy, confusion, or lust - eyes followed him no matter where he went, no matter what he did, who he interacted with. You lifted the heavy gold goblet to your lips, taking a careful mouthful of wine before setting it down, swallowing, and standing from your seat at the banquet table.

You wanted your lover, so, you got up to satisfy your craving.

You approached him as he spoke to a pair of noblemen, slowing your gait to ease your arrival and not cause a surprise. Your dress was something a little more alluring, more revealing than you'd usually wear, and as you approached the men, the eyes not belonging to your new fiancé nearly bulged from their skulls.

Daemon turned his head and saw you, smirking as his arm opened and he welcomed you into his side. "I was beginning to wonder where you got off to," you told him softly, one arm around his hips as the other planted your hand against his chest. "The Aunties have descended and are becoming insufferable, I fear I needed reprieve."

Daemon grinned, sounding amused, "It was a matter of time before they found you. Stick with us, darling, the Aunties will stay away."

"They're about to serve dinner," you told him, "perhaps we should find our seats?"

He nodded, looking at the men he had been speaking to before you showed up. Daemon bid politely, offering no other explanation besides, "Excuse us, gentlemen."

They bowed out of their Prince's way, letting Daemon lead you toward the head banquet table (again) where his brother, King Viserys, was sitting with other prominent members of court. The night had been pleasant, everyone rejoicing in the upcoming nuptials between you and the Rogue Prince. For years, he'd been something chaotic and shunned; and after the passing of his first wife, Rhea Royce, he was like a kite cut from string. Loose and set adrift. Wild and out-of-reach. And then you came back into Daemon's life after not seeing one another since you were ten-and-six, and all of a sudden, the Rogue Prince was something more domesticated.

It was a refreshing change, albeit totally uncharacteristic for Daemon.

Viserys was the most shocked of them all, constantly praising you for whatever you had done to his brother to reel him into a controllable pace. He thought you and Daemon were perfect for one another, likened you two to fit-together puzzle pieces. The King had been more than happy to host the celebrations, starting with tonight, an engagement party! You had to play part of dutiful fiancé and upstanding citizen since you were to inherit a royal title; being poised and collected at all times with either a calm, passive expression or one of bright entertainment.

"Here, love," Daemon whispered, pulling your chair out for you. He waited until you were sat before taking his own seat, sighing when he glanced around the table only to settle his gaze on you.

"What's wrong, my Dragon?" You asked softly, leaning in to place your hand over his on his lap; pressed into his side despite the wooden chair arms between you.

"Just amusing," he mused, "most of these Lords and Ladies had much to say about my first marriage, and now, they break our bread to celebrate us."

"Cannot be the first time someone's tried to suck up to you," you chuckled, moving your conjoined hands in your lap. "The dragon does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep," you advised smartly, "they only tolerate the sheep because one day, the dragon will need to feast - hmm?"

Daemon smirked, "When did you become so insightful, darling?"

"I've always been, you're just pussy-whipped now that I make a lot more sense."

He laughed, letting a servant pour your wine. In your ear, he mused, "Jest all you want, but you were meant to be a Targaryen. Once we are wed, I will plant my seed, and bind us together for eternity."

"Our marriage wouldn't doing exactly that already?"

"A child is more tangible - it's a bloodline."

You shrugged as a plate of blood-red lobster was set in front of you. Viserys truly went all out - giving a wide variety of foods to taste. "A marriage is for life, though," you countered.

"So is a child."

"Until they are married off."

Conversation continued, flowing easily between the family members and patrons of court. Viserys looked pleased, enjoying the celebration as his ailment often caused him grave pain and he could not attend events. He hardly had reason to smile, but when he watched you feed a bite to Daemon, he let his lips spread without thought. Queen Alicent clocked the King's expression, glancing at you and Daemon, then smiled fondly before reaching for her husband's hand.

Throughout the dinner, Rhaenyra watched you and Daemon with a bitter glare on her face; jaw locked and lips pursed. You ignored her obvious displeasure in favor of your husband, both too enraptured with one another to ever pay attention to the Princess' distain. When the meal was over, the dancing, mingling, drinking, and musical portion of the evening commenced.

And cake. Cake was to be served.

Daemon's golden cloak swept around guests as you both played dutiful host for your party, and mingled with those who arrived tonight to celebrate your upcoming nuptials. You did your best to keep up with the plethora of Lords and Ladies, like Daemon did so effortlessly, but it was a lot. You still held your own, but by Gods, there was a lot of people in attendance tonight and there was noway you could remember any names.

Thankfully, while Daemon was caught in a conversation with Ser Gerold Royce, you eventually made it to a small group of familiar faces: Princess Rhaenyra, Ser Harwin Strong, his brother, Larys, Lady Laena Velaryon, and her twin, Ser Laenor.

You graciously received the compliments, well-wishes, and joyful greetings of them all, but acutely noted the Princess did not offer even so much as a polite greeting. "This dress was made for you, it's just darling," Laena complimented, petting the bodice. "It must've cost a fortune."

"It was a gift from Daemon," you told her with a soft smile. "And the necklace, too! See?" You showed her, "He had it custom made, it's Valyrian Steel with embedded jewels."

"The perfect combination of your Houses, and a gorgeous piece of art to hang on such a gorgeous neck," she praised, but it was Princess Rhaenyra's scoff of annoyance that peaked your interest.

You thanked Laena Velaryon before eyeing Rhaenyra. "Princess?" You questioned. "If I may ask you something, plainly?"

"By all means."

"Have I... Upset you in anyway?"

"You mean beside my uncle spending the Crown's coin to buy you something exquisitely made; being a fleeting, lady interest of the Princes'? No, no, nothing's wrong," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"What is this distain you hold towards me - towards my relationship with Daemon?" You demanded, the alcohol in your system spurring you on despite knowing the looming consequences of offering a member of the Royal family sharpened words.

"Truly? You wish to know why I do not fawn over you as others?"

"They do not fawn, oh - " You stopped yourself, sighing deeply and correcting yourself, "Of course I wish to know what the issue at hand here is, Princess, I do not wish for ill-will between us. I wish to resolve this."

"In truth, I simply do not understand it, this - this sham of a wedding," she snapped. "Daemon might buy you pretty things, but it's only out of guilt."

"What guilt could he possibly - "

"He finds you overwhelming, overbearing, suffocatingly clingy. So, with his distain, he, too, felt fleeting guilt - being why he showers you with gifts, it's for his own conscious. But if you ask me why I host such distain towards this union, it is because I know my uncle is not happy with your overwhelmingly clingy behavior. He's voiced his displeasure many-a-time. Not just to me, but to the King and Queen, as well."

You felt shell-shocked, acutely aware of the lingering eyes of the audience around you. You worried: how many of them had heard this rumor, how many secretly pitied you? Finding your voice, you managed to squeak out, "I beg your pardon?"

Rhaenyra only shrugged, "You asked, I answered."

"I see," you cleared your throat. "And your answer is that my betrothed has, what, started to slander my name behind my back?"

"Indeed. His chief complaint is how you seem to cling to him more and more, and he doesn't have the heart to push you away more than he already has. You're the one daft enough to not take a hint."

"And where do you get your information from?"

"Daemon, himself."

Your mind raced with all the little things: how Daemon would release your person during public events, avoid physical touch, ignore you sometimes, shut down your woes (call that gaslighting), how he stiffened at times you took his arm, how he seemed to shut down and only offer bored 'mmhms' when you spoke to him about your life. Your heart sank to your feet as you realized there were some truths to Rhaenyra's words.

You nodded slowly as Daemon chose that moment to approach your awkward group. His arm slithered around your waist, but you were silent as the grave and stiff as the corpse in said grave. Your mind raced with the idea that Rhaenyra could just be fucking with you, but the also with the idea that all she said was true.

"I'm going to retire for the evening, I've a headache," you told Daemon, finding an easy way out of his grip, "but you stay, enjoy the celebration. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am just tired."

He agreed and gently kissed you - sure to remain modest but still affectionate. "I'll visit you tonight," he muttered in your ear.

"No, I am truly tired," you told him softly but sternly. "We'll see each other tomorrow."

He hummed, "Then I shall walk you out - "

"No, you're needed here to save face. Go, mingle, play nice," you dismissed him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You bid whoever you came across a good and safe night; thanking them for their attendance tonight. After thanking the King for hosting the party, you disappeared, taking a few secret passages to avoid the main hustle-and-bustle of the feast. When you arrived in your room, you slammed the door, bolted it, and leaned against it for a good long moment. Your mind was reeling with all kinds of thoughts regarding your intended, his niece, all of it suddenly feeling very overwhelming.

You were exhausted, so, you swiftly stripped, unpinned your hair, refused your maid's help, and soaked in a long, hot bath. After, you settled into bed with a book, and tried not to overwhelm yourself with the anxiety tomorrow would bring.

About an hour later, you heard Daemon knocking at your passage door. You paused, not making a sound, hearing his muffled voice, "Love? My love, are you awake?"

You didn't answer.

"Please, sweet girl, let me in," he begged quietly.

When you wrenched the door open, you seethed, "NO!"

"What - ?"

"I heard plenty tonight from your niece. In your moments of frustration, you know what? Sure, complain about your woes - but to find out you call me clingy when in regard to my affection - that's not something I'm going to be happy hearing, Daemon!"

"I know, but let me explain - "

"What? What will you say? That you just needed someone to talk to? To vent your feelings? I get that - I really do. But you fully offered slander to my name, to our relationship; to who I am as a partner. Your poisoned words of your irritation is soaked into your family, in the courts. And now, I must endure the pity those will offer knowing my husband truly holds distain for me!"

"No, you've got it wrong, I don't - "

"Then why!?" You demanded, voice cracking. "Why say those things? Why not come to me and communicate you're not comfortable with this and that behavior!? I won't know unless you tell me, so, instead of talking your shit to the courts and your family, why not just speak to me!?"

"I should have!" He admitted quickly. "I should have, I know that, and it was my mistake, my love. But I regret it, I regret feeling so, so - I don't know! Sure, let's call it frustrated, irritated, I don't care, I just needed it off my chest!"

"I understand that fully, but being as we're to marry one another, I should be the one listening to you when you need something off your chest. You should talk to me. And if I'm the one you need to speak about, choose more trustworthy confidants that do not need further reason to despise me!"

"What're you...? What? What does that mean?"

"Rhaenyra, Daemon! Your niece, Rhaenyra! Every-fucking-thing you've said to her, she remembers, and holds it against me! You forget, when you speak to family about the woes of your relationship, that's all they remember. You get to make up with me, we get to move on, but because you needed t'vent to them, that's what they can hold against me. Do you even wish to marry me, still!?"

"Of course, I do!"

"Then something needs to change," you deadpanned, exhausted by this. "I refuse to be belittled, spat on, and disrespected by your niece any longer."

"I will speak to her."

"Yes, you will! This is far too out of hand! She has weaponized your frustration to drive a wedge between us, and she chose a public event with an audience to lob it all at me!"

"What truly happened with Rhaenyra? What was so bad?"

"Daemon, she called me out for 'being clingy' in front of an audience! At our engagement celebration! Do you know how humiliating that was!? I'm more embarrassed than angry!"

He nodded, "I'll handle this. I swear, my darling, this will be resolved."

"You know what?" You breathed. "Do whatever you please because I've realized something. Not only did Rhaenyra spew our business to others, but you... You said it in the first place. You said those words..."

"Out of anger - "

"But you still spoke them!"

"I was foolish to do so!"

"You are a fool for many reasons, Daemon, but this is one act I am not willing to forgive so blindly. Wear your jester hat all you'd like, but it will take more than pretty words to make this up to me."

"I'll do what it takes to fix this." He tried to step into the room with you, but you held your ground in the doorway. "My love, please, how can I make it up to you if you do not let me in?"

"You must find any other way to do this because there's no chance in any of the Seven Hells that you share my bed again - married or not." You offered him a look of distain, musing, "You know what, I've decided: I simply don't care what you or your family thinks. I am extremely proud of who I am, and there's not a soul alive that can make me feel lesser than. Your words hurt, they cut deeper hearing it from the Princess, but that's simply your opinion," you eased. "I refuse to modify myself, but it's good to know you don't like my affection - I can always reserve it for whoever I choose to warm my bed. What was it you said?" You quipped venomously, "Marriages are political arrangements?"

"Not ours," he snapped.

"Oh? We're so different, are we?" You laughed.

"Of course we are, there's nothing I'd change. Hear me? Nothing," he sounded angry. "I was a fool to speak out of term, but you're right, I should talk to you about it - I am simply unequipped to having a wife I've chosen."

"Oh, spare me - "

"It's true," he insisted, "what woman in my life has loved me as you do? Has encouraged me to be so - so - loving and safe?"

"Apparently, I've been clingy and not as encouraging as I thought."

"I spoke out of turn," he insisted. "You're right - I can't go and take back what I've said. But I will do all I can to ensure I change their opinions on you, to mop up whatever verbal mess I've made."

You laughed without humor.

"And I will set Rhaenyra straight about all of this, I will ensure she knows that there's no room for such tension, jealousy, hatred."

"You swear to clean up all your messes?" You wondered earnestly.

"I swear."

"Good," you mused, "after that, how do you intend on rebuilding my trust?"

Daemon blinked, "You do not trust me anymore?"

"Of course not," you assured, "not since finding out how you speak of me so hatefully without my knowledge. That's where trust comes in, Daemon, but you proved me wrong, and now, that trust is gone."

Daemon looked confused, mouth opening and closing rapidly, shaking his head, "No, no, no, love, don't do this. We're okay, all right? We're fine, things with us - we're fine. We're okay."

"Saying it doesn't make it true."

"Do not tell me," He snapped. "H-Have I lost you?"

"Mhm. Not saying you can't fix things between us, but as of now, there's nothing about you I can trust."

"And if you cannot trust me, can you love me?"

You paused, considering his words. Honestly, his betrayal was something that hurt worse than anything you've endured before. "I'll have to think about that one," you whispered. With a saddened look, you hugged the door, sighing, and bid, "Goodnight, my Prince."

"My sweet - don't shut me out. Don't do this."

"Find a way to make this all up to me," you demanded, "because I'd hate for either of us to eventually resent this marriage, too."

He tried to argue but you shut the door on him forcefully; loudly locking it from the inside to prevent him from following you. You felt yourself brimming with anger, but nothing was like the betrayal coursing through your heart and veins. There was no sleep that night, there was a lot of tears, a lot of pacing, and a lot of grumbling to yourself.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

Clingy Baby collection

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astayinwonderland · 11 months

Text

"After all, you're my wife." | Choi San

pairings: san x f.reader

genre: smut | fluff (if you squint)| +18 minors DNI

this is a mix between a poll and a request by @elfemi

summary: you marry san to make an alliance, and the agreement includes to live separate lives, but both of you seem to want each other (mafia!au)

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, san calls you his little pet, cursing, degrading, praising, unprotected sex (pls no), cum play, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, mentions of violence (not towards reader) and drugs -- lmk if I forgot anything

Enjoy! (;

There are two things you have very clear. Your dad is dead and you fucking hate Choi San. Inheriting the position of mafia leader was your birthright, your dad raised you to be that woman. However, not everyone wants to see a woman in such a powerful position, to their misfortune, you were the late mafia boss’s only child.

When your father fell ill, you knew it was time to get your position as leader and boss secure. That meant allying with someone rich and powerful. You were surprised that all eligible bachelors were too old, too young, or not powerful enough.

Theo was standing behind you as your eyes scanned the guests your dad’s most trusted assistant invited for a ‘get-together and mingle with the corrupt elite of the country. He had become like an uncle to you, a genuine part of the family. With his kind eyes, but cold demeanor, he is the perfect person to have your back.

“What about him?” Theo said.

“Ugh no…”

“You can’t keep saying no to everyone. Choose or I will choose for you tonight,” your dad finally spoke. Eyes not looking at you. This is not his favourite idea ever, but it was necessary.

You couldn’t picture yourself with any of these men, but it was your duty. So you tried your best to be somewhat amicable and get to like at least one of them. With your wine glass in hand, you decided to talk to your pursuers. They would throw themselves at your feet, showering with compliments, showing off their riches, and to be honest being completely obnoxious. This is not what you needed. You needed someone who you could make a deal with and live separate lives while keeping the façade of a marriage.

Shit, this was going to be hard.

The door opened and at that moment you knew something was off. The entire room fell silent when the man with broad shoulders and shiny black hair walked in. His face was expressionless, with high cheekbones, and not a trace of sympathy. You would think he would come to greet you, that’s the reason why he is there, but he just bows in your direction and walks over to the bar.

The conversation around you resumed, whispers commented on the politician’s son. His father was a powerful drug lord who controlled one of the borders. No wonder he has so much influence. Your brain made a quick list of pros and cons, and so it seemed Choi San would be the right choice for you.

___________________________________

San was aware his father was a criminal but when he was pushed to marry you, he did everything he could think of to change his father’s mind. He begged he asked to be sent away, hell, he even asked for physical punishment. But Mr. Choi was a greedy, greedy man, and he saw in you an opportunity to be even greedier, richer, and more powerful. This was truly the perfect alliance.

Your dad’s body wasn’t ever cold yet when San got the call and the whole marriage circus began to play. At least the ceremony would be short and he would get to move into his room in your mansion and get it over with. San only met you that one time, but he remembered very well how you looked. In one word, terrifying. You would make the perfect fake wife.

San watched you walk toward him dressed in black, a dress that covered your legs right above the knees but left little to his imagination from the way the cleavage showed off your round and soft breasts. He just politely nodded at you. At the end of the day, there was nothing to celebrate, your dad was dead and he had to pretend to be your loving husband for the rest of his life or until something or someone killed him.

With no kiss to seal the deal, San just signed the papers and tried to give you a smile, which was awkward.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said.

You returned the smile, less awkwardly, and patted his shoulder. For a split second, San saw something in you, maybe kindness, but that was all forgotten when you two started living together.

_____________________________________

“Yeah… fuck, don’t fucking stop, don't fucking—” your voice bounces on the walls, you are so close.

“Ah.. ah!” the deep voice behind you moans as he cums way too soon.

San closes his eyes across the hallway. Why do you have to be so fucking loud? To be honest, he wishes he could shut you up once and for all. Moving in with you was necessary, he understands that, part of the arranged marriage and your agreement. However, San never imagined how opinionated and bossy you could be. One thing was your role as the new mafia leader, another thing was you ordering him around the house like some unloved pet.

Tonight, nonetheless, San wouldn’t take that anymore, so he did something unexpected. He left his bedroom and went looking for you. Was he out of his mind? Probably, you specifically instructed to ‘stay the fuck away’ and since your marriage was fake, you could find carnal pleasure with anyone you wanted.

San walked out of his bedroom. His pajama pants hanging low, his shirt forgotten somewhere in his room. He still wore his reading glasses and his black hair was wet, and slicked back. Your bedroom door abruptly opens and an unfortunate man flies out of your room. He is in his underwear trying to flee the scene grabbing his clothes as your upset persona watches not too far from the door. San’s curious eyes find your figure, and my oh my, what on earth are you wearing?

If San didn’t know any better he would be jealous of the thin piece of clothing that gets to touch your soft skin. You have no shame as you stand there in front of your husband. The peach, sheer dress dances loosely on your body, however, it shows off your beautiful body. San can see your nipples hardening under such a provocative piece of clothing as his eyes scan even further south to find the core of your intimacy unclothed.

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask.

“N-no, I was just… taking a break from reading. I couldn't focus,” he crosses his arms across his chest and something in you wonders how you never paid any close attention to those broad shoulders and itty bitty tiny waist.

“Was I being too loud? Apologies.”

“Not at all, I believe you can be louder… with the right encouragement.”

The audacity. He can’t speak to you like this… he has never done something so daring. Your heart races and a familiar heat travels from your chest down to your legs.

“Go to your room, San,” you scold him and close the door.

San rolls his eyes. He has had enough of you bossing him around as if he was your puppy or servant. So on this night, Choi San decided something. He will make you see him for what he is, an important part of your alliance, a capable, fierce man, and your husband.

______________________________

The days pass and you haven’t seen much of San. You haven’t seen him at all. Is not a surprise not to see him or know of him for a day or two, however, it’s been 9 days since you had your little after-hours encounter. You sit in front of various members of the cartel and trusted members of the mafia your father once led. Theo, your father’s favourite and now your confidant, continues to sit to the right of the boss, you.

“We are losing territory, it’s like we don’t have enough people from our side…” one protests.

“The matter is getting resolved. I suspect there is someone infiltrated in one of our negotiations or maybe lines have been tapped–”

You are cut mid-sentence when the doors are almost torn from their hinges and your husband enters the room. He is agitated, pulling a beaten man by the collar of his crimson-stained shirt, the same crimson colour that decorates San’s knuckles and hands. The stranger is pushed and kicked to your feet, and you almost feel pity for his bruised face.

“Sorry to drop in unannounced, love,” San starts, leaving that last word resonating in your head. “This little rat here has something to tell us, don’t you?” San walks over to him and pulls him by the root of his hair making his eyes meet yours. “Look at my wife when you speak, scum, or do I need to break the rest of your fingers one by one?”

And now you see it, his left hand, disfigured, broken bones making his muscles swell under his skin.

“Speak,” you command.

“I– I know who’s been feeding information to Viggiano.”

As soon as you hear the name you stand from your chair and grab his face.

“You better start talking before you lose your tongue as well,” you look at the disheveled man, then back at San. His eyes have such an intense glare, you’ve never seen him like this. It makes the hairs on your back rise.

“Pl-please no, I–” as the man stutters he keeps looking past you, which makes you turn to see Theo standing right there. The kindness in his eyes was now replaced by threat and fear.

“No…” a small gasp leaves your lips.

“You are never going to be the right person to lead, everyone knows–” Theo starts.

Slap! You can’t believe the speed at which your body moved to hit your so-called uncle across the face. Two of your guards grab him by the arms, waiting for your command, but San is quicker. He bumps the disheveled man’s head with the table, knocking him unconscious. Like a predator to its prey, he walks towards Theo. You don’t see it coming but one punch from San and Theo is coughing blood.

“That’s enough, San. You can go now.”

San is in disbelief, but he lets out a deep chuckle that makes you and your company know he is indeed annoyed by your decision.

“I want his nose and ears cut off, for being a liar and an eavesdrop, send them to Viggiano,” you walk towards the door. “Sleeping beauty over there loses his tongue. I want them both dead by midnight… oh and let this be an example of what happens if you betray your boss,” you finally exit the room, listening to the ‘yes ma’ams’ behind you.

The night seems to be the longest one you’ve ever lived. This is not the first tough decision you make, but this is the first time someone close betrays you, and it hurts. It hurts bad, so you cry in the loneliness of your room. You curse. You throw things around and you scream. Everyone has been instructed not to bother you, except for one person.

“May I come in?” San’s voice is soft outside the door.

“Leave me alone!”

San enters your room regardless and nothing stops him from getting to you. He holds your wrists.

“You need to stop bossing me around, I know you are upset but I am not your puppy or your slave.”

“You disappeared for 9 days and came home with a big surprise. Great! But you mean nothing to me, Choi San, and I mean nothing to you! Just get out before I call the guards.”

“Nothing to you? Nothing to me!?” he is even more shocked than before and you see in his eyes that look he gave you when you got married but now it is enhanced. It is sympathy. It is agony. It is lust, pain, and love. Deep down you know he means something to you or you would have him dragged out of your room in this very minute.

You don’t get to answer when San’s lips are already on yours and you find yourself kissing this handsome man back. This handsome man is legally your husband, but you have never kissed before. His lips are hungry and wanting, making you thirst for him as your tongues collide and his needy hands cup your ass.

“See how lovely it can be when you don’t boss me around and you shut up.”

Fuck.

The wetness between your legs just grows and you have no words to answer back. His mouth is on your delicate neck, oh he needs to make a work of art here, your skin looks like it could bruise easily. San sucks on various points, his tongue lapping over the marks he leaves behind. Your moaning goes from soft to breathy and impatient. One of your hands reaches under your nightgown and San slaps it away.

“No, love, you don’t get to relieve yourself until I fucking say so. Now be a good pet and strip for me, would ya?”

You take off your clothes as fast as you can, pathetic. A week ago, San was just the most annoying housemate, a convenient inconvenience, but now you’re here naked in front of him. His eyes are dark scanning your body, planning how he is going to ruin you, and you are going to let him do as he pleases.

“On your knees.”

And you drop to your knees looking up at his adoring face with a wicked smile. He lowers his pants just enough for you to see his cock already leaking for you.

“Such a good pet, would you help me out?”

You continuously nod and pull his pants further down. His cock is beautiful, perfect, just like him. Slightly curved, just the right thickness, and a bit longer than average. You spit on it and start with your hand, jerking him off, up and down, up and down. Without interrupting the pace you lick his balls and earn the most sensual moan from San’s lips. So you put your mouth to work. You put him between your wet needy lips and push him in, sucking, tasting all of him. San’s breath is heavier when you start bopping your head up and down. He suddenly grabs your hair and takes control, fucking your face and watching you take it. To his eyes, you were already so beautiful, but this is something else.

“See how beautiful you look with your mouth shut, so obedient, now be a good wife and take this cock.”

You moan at his words, how can they make you so horny when you had no plan of sleeping with him. The vibrations in your throat send San spinning and he is too close to cuming, but not yet. He pulls out of your mouth and helps you up, and with a slap to your ass, he takes you to bed. He signals you to straddle him. You normally don’t like eye contact with your sexual partners but there is something about San that makes it different.

“Fuck yourself on my cock and I only want to hear how good it feels, okay?”

You sit on his cock slowly, letting yourself adjust to his length and girth. When you start to bounce on top of him, San has to use all of his willpower not to drill into you like some kind of wild animal, he can do that any other time if you let him. The way you are making him feel is ecstatic. Your tits moving up and down so close to his face he has to suck on them. The feeling of his tongue on your nipples makes you want to cry for pleasure. You let out a high-pitched moan.

“Words, little pet, I wanna hear them– fuck,” San throws his head back as your pace becomes quicker. He slaps your ass, once, twice.

“I love it, I fucking love it, San… fuck. I like it right there, so fucking perfect. I want you to fucking split me in half,” you just let words out, words derived from the ecstasy of having his cock buried deep inside you.

And that was the queue for San to let go and fuck you like he wanted. Like you wanted. He now fucks you faster than the pace you set earlier. His hands bruising your hips, the skin-to-skin contact adding even more passion, and his eyes… His eyes on yours making you feel his, making you feel safe, making you feel you can let go and–

“Fucking shit, I’m gonna cum… fuckfuckfuck!”

And San holds you while your body trembles and your high makes your brain explode into a thousand little particles of pure lust and sin. Fuck the way your heart races, you can hear it in your ears. He puts you on the bed and your reaction time doesn’t catch up with your brain when your legs are wrapped around his waist and he is entering you.

“San…” you whisper.

He stops. He is unsure if this is too much and he is willing to stop.

“San, San, San…” you keep saying his name like a plead, a prayer to the heavens as your hips move forward. You want more.

“Bet. No one. Ever. Fucked you. Like. This.” San says between thrusts so deep you can feel him in your cervix. “Look at you all fucked out, my obedient pet, taking my cock so well, wanting to cum again. Is that what you want?”

You nod desperately, anything for another intense orgasm with him. You only want this with him. His hands touching you, his moans on your ears, his voice commanding you to cum again and again.

This time San fucks you slower, you can feel every inch of him inside you as you clench around his erection encouraging him to keep going. He grabs your thighs to pull you even closer to him, angling your hips higher making you not say his name, but scream it.

“Yes, fuck, keep saying my name just like that.”

So you did as he entered you, ruining you for any other man who dared match him. You were his, the man who saved your life and fucks you into oblivion. Now you were close, so close to your climax and you needed to cum like oxygen itself.

“You don’t get to cum without me, hold it like the good pet that you are,” he says struggling to make a coherent sentence, he was very close too.

You try hard not to cum before he does, but looking at him sweaty, chasing his high, fucking you as no one has done before does something to you. Your hands squeeze your tits together while your eyes close, trying to last longer. San could have combusted with that sight alone.

“Cum– cum now… fuck!”

The tightness in your belly is now free as you both cum. It is so fucking loud that your head hurts. His seed spills deep inside you and if you felt full before, now it’s even better, your legs feel like gelatin. San gently places them down. You are thinking he will probably leave you to go back to his room but he does the unexpected.

His thumb is over your extremely sensitive clit and two of his slender fingers push his cum back inside you. You scream closing your legs. He smiles.

“You need to take it all, love,” that’s it… the dom session is over and he uses that word that makes your heart flutter.

“I can’t.”

San licks your clit, tasting the mix of both of your releases. His fingers thrust in slowly, slightly angling up until you squirm under his touch.

“Ah, right there? You like it there, love?”

“Mmmm-ugh yesfuck…ah–” you babble.

San continues his tortuous pace until he latches once again his mouth to your clit. You see stars, you don’t know how your body is taking this, it is so fucking good, he is so fucking good. The way he keeps you on edge and makes you want more and more. Fuck, you can’t even think and you feel your body about to orgasm but something is different.

“San, San… stop. I’m gonna–” and you squirt, drenching him in your juices.

“That’s a good girl.” He licks your entrance once last time before collapsing beside you, his arms open inviting you to rest on his broad and hard chest.

“You are not allowed to sleep in the other room anymore. From now on you sleep here, okay?”

“You’re ordering me around, but I will follow your command. After all, you are my wife,” he hugs you tightly.

__________________________________

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ —this took me forever but I am in love with this san! reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated and let me know if you would like to be part of the taglist.

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fushitoru · 2 months

Text

chapter 1: the debutante a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you begin to get ready for your presentation for your debut this season, and satoru steels himself to find a wife. you don't get the reception you'd wanted from some, and satoru will soon curse himself for letting his tongue loose (6.3k)

a/n tired of keeping this in the vault lol so I’ll just post it even if my perfectionist tendencies are screaming at me. thank you so much to @/sinn-clair for beta reading and lexi (@/ayyy-pee) for helping me brainstorm 💗

next. the aftermath

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest reader,

Another season comes as the ton descends to London yet again from the countryside. Young ladies and their mamas flock to the modiste in an effort to fluff their feathers to find a match.

The Itadoris are by far one of the most prolific families in the upper echelons of society. The sight of all the children at once⸺Miss Itadori, Lord Choso Itadori, and Mister Yuji Itadori⸺is enough to catch the attention of mamas and young suitors alike. Miss Itadori, making her debut this season, has much to be desired. The debutante is a meek and demure girl, but with many talents indeed. The oldest, Lord Itadori, has a quiet countenance that has ladies and mamas on their toes, counting the days until he finally joins the marriage market. Mister Yuji Itadori is quite the opposite; his physical prowess on horseback riding has had quite a few ladies swooning after.

Furthermore, the heir to the Duke of Gojo is a most interesting character. Although he has not deigned to find a wife during any season yet, This Author has heard whispers that he will be looking for a bride during this one.

Lady Mei Mei can certainly be expected to be on the prowl, waiting to sink her teeth into the wealthiest….

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

“Seriously?” Choso scrunched his nose in displeasure. “Why would ladies want someone who’s quiet? I use it to convey my displeasure, not to be charming.”

On the other hand, the other brother relaxed on the opposite couch, proud. “I knew I looked good on horseback,” Yuji remarked smugly. “You and my dear sister are clearly jealous of how appealing my muscles look while I’m grabbing the reins.”

“Those ladies clearly hadn’t seen you drop yourself in dung when you were younger. Or the face you make when you are so oddly concentrated. As if you just stepped into a chamber pot.”

Before Yuji could come up with a snide remark to his older brother, the two heard an incessant pacing leading up to the doors of the drawing room they sat in. The door slammed opened to reveal their mother⸺Lady Itadori⸺with a hand to her face in clear distress.

Choso and Yuji exchanged glances before Choso calmly set down the single-page newspaper he was reading. “What is the matter, mother?”

Lady Itadori moaned and sat down on a chair raggedly. “Your sister is the matter. I fear the queen will have reviewed every person in London before your sister leaves her room.”

Before Choso could get a word in, Yuji suddenly stood up. “This is a serious matter, mother. After all, she should be punctual to her debut. I will go fetch her.”

“Wait, Yuji!” Choso and Lady Itadori followed Yuji to the grand staircase of the Itadori manor. Hurriedly, they reached the foot of the stairs to see Yuji tilting his head back to take a deep breath.

“SISTER!” Yuji had his palms up to his face, as if to amplify his already booming scream. “YOU! MUST! MAKE! HASTE!” After the quite of bit noise he'd made, he cleared his throat, looking to the side to see his dumbfounded mother and brother, and shrugged. “Well, someone’s got to the job.”

Then, the brothers and their mother look up to see a peek of white and a “Miss, be careful with the hem!” You, at the top of the staircase, grab the front of your ivory dress, with your maids helping you with the train, as you start stepping down the staircase with an irritated frown. “Must you always be such a nuisance, brother?” Traversing down the stairs until your family members were visible, all you saw were dumbfounded and tense expressions. After enduring hours of painting your face and dealing with your maid Nobara’s fussing over your coiffure, you wished for a more fond reaction. Annoyed, you stomped your way past them to the exit, where the carriage was waiting for you four.

“Dear!” your mother exclaimed, rushing to your side and taking your hand as you reached the door. Her eyes, filled with concern, met yours as she nervously asked, “How are you feeling? I know this is a momentous day for you, but remember, you’ve always excelled in your lessons. It’s only natural that you’ll win the queen’s approval, dear.”

“Yes, Mother, of course,” you sighed. “It is just such a hectic day.”

“But you shall dazzle them.” Choso comes behind you, patting your back gently in his reassuring, elderly brother ways. With a proud smile, he says, “The gentlemen are not prepared for your entrance this season.”

“Indeed! They will be none the wiser to your snark, sister.” You see Yuji coming up on your other side, offering his elbow. You tentatively take it, eyeing him sourly as he continues, “I am simply elated that Mama’s attention will be on you, rather me.”

You reach to smack him on the head, eliciting an "Ow!" from Yuji just as your mother approaches next to him, frowning. "Of course, Yuji. But it won’t be long before I have to chase after you for your tutor’s complaints about your lack of proficiency⸺"

Yuji interjects hastily. "Well! Would you look at the time? The Queen is waiting!"

"I'm surprised the gossip pamphlet didn't mention how much of a rake you are," Lord Geto mused, taking a sip of brandy. At his right, Duke Nanami was stoic as always, focusing on the tastes the gin was bringing to his mouth rather than the two older men beside him.

"I'm severely offended you would even imply such a thing," Mister Satoru Gojo put a hand on his chest, feigning offense. Rather than a gin in his hand, Satoru preferred drinking water lest his mouth spilled something even more notorious than his signature calculative icy blue eyes.

He continued. "Honestly, I don't understand this whole Whistledown business. Some might even say the ton holds her words more in regards than the Holy Bible!"

"You're diverting the matter at hand, Gojo," Nanami took his tired eyes off of his drink to look at Satoru. "As the heir and first son, have your parents not urged you to cease your foolishness? There is a limit to the rakish behavior one can exhibit in your position.”

"Yes," Satoru sighed, "They have. That's precisely why I'm looking for a bride."

There was a silence in which Satoru looked up from his glass to see Kento and Suguru’s mouths agape. "What?"

Suguru leaned closer to Satoru, as if to inspect his countenance unsure if he was jesting or not. "So, is it actually true? You're going to get tied down?"

Nanami wrinkled his nose in disapproval. "Must you say it like that? Marriage isn't imprisonment, you know."

Gojo sighed. "Nanami, Nanami. It's clear that one year that separates us in age has also left a gap in experience." Nanami felt a vein pop as Satoru irritatedly continued in his know-it-all voice. "Marriage is an end. The dead end, in fact. It is when you are abroad in Paris, basking in all the fine entertainment and wooing ladies until you realize you are out of funds. Out of money. Marriage is coming home not to go out and drink, but to a wife that has endless needs of you and children that will have frustrating phases of life. An end to pleasure and an end of all jest."

Kento and Suguru exchanged a glance before Suguru asked, "So why are you looking for a wife?"

Satoru looked dejectedly at them, crossing his arms. "My parents insisted. Said they would freeze my funds and kick me out if I didn't get serious about my future." He continued on his desperate rambling, leaning back in his chair. "I don't understand. Must I have a wife to "get serious" in life? I’m serious about all the fucking mergers and dubious finances my father invests in! Look how well I managed his bets!"

"You know, Satoru, your outlook on marriage is awfully pessimistic," Suguru put down his glass to lean back as well, crossing his arms in seriousness. "Don't you wish for a love match?"

"That sounds ridiculous. Love matches are just a passing fancy young ladies have when reading their ridiculous romance novels."

"Well, of course you think that." Kento deadpanned. "No respectable lady in their right mind would fall for you and your attitude."

"Nanami, you wound me."

Suguru glanced at Satoru with concern. "My dear friend, you are making this harder for yourself than it ought to be."

Satoru groaned. "I came here for jest, not to receive words of so-called wisdom. I assure you both, all is well." He looked at both of his friends. "I do not need to be assured. I simply am looking for a woman fine enough to be my wife to appease my parents and their concerns of continuing on the line and handling the dukedom but for a woman so reserved that she'd respect my wishes and isn't so miserable. Or needy." Satoru shrugged. "I would believe these to be respectable requirements for a wife."

Suguru looked at him with mild displeasure. "It sounds like you are looking for a horse to ride, not a woman you would spend the rest of your life with."

Standing up, Satoru moved behind Kento and Suguru to give them a hearty slap on the back. "Trust me, my dear, dear friends. I will find what I am looking for and drink myself silly for the rest of my life!"

"You don't drink." Kento sighed.

"Never mind, you! Sir, more drinks!" Satoru grinned. "Here's to the bachelor life!"

The three men raised their glasses for the toast. Yet, only one of them contained thin water.

You restlessly arranged the feathers in your coiffure and adjusted the fabric essentially squeezing the breath out of your lungs to accentuate your bust. The palace waiting room was stuffy as ever as debutantes and their mamas fluttered across the room in an effort to catch the smallest of flaws on their person.

Before the Queen did, that is.

"Your feathers are fine, dear. Take deep breaths for me." Your mother raised her hands, prompting you to take a breath in and out as her hands lowered.

You gave her your practiced smile and curtsy to which your mother laid a hand on the small of your back in both approval and reassurance. With the other, she grabbed your own and rubbed comforting circles in the junction of your index finger and your thumb. "You have always excelled in your lessons, my dear. I could not be prouder of the woman you are becoming." She sniffed, and you smiled in appreciation. "The Queen will love you, I am sure of it."

You laughed. "Mama, that is what all these ladies think."

“But none of these ladies have poured in the determination you have, my dear.” Your mother holds your head gently by the cheeks. “Your character and proficiency⸺I am sure the Queen will see the promising young lady that I am proud to call my daughter.”

You felt a lump in your throat. While you appreciated your mother’s words, you could not help but think of the significance of this day. You almost felt dizzy thinking about messing up in front of the Queen; if you didn't find a suitable match as a result, what would become of you?

Suddenly, there was some fanfare from the main room. "Now, presenting Miss Itadori and the Right Honourable Lady Itadori." Your heart jumped out of your throat as you heard the call for you and your mother to walk up.

"Let's go, my dear." With a fond kiss to your temple, your mother led you by the hand to the center of the tall and ornate doors that opened to reveal the Queen and her audience. You couldn't help but notice that your mother's hand held a reassuring, yet tight vice.

When the doors opened, your vision blurred. Your heartbeat got faster, and all you could register was the stares. What felt like a million pairs of eyes blinking upon you, scanning your coiffure, garments, and carefully painted face. While the gossiping widows and mamas whispered amongst themselves, some gentlemen scanned you up and down in clear assessment of your constitution. A distinct smell of tobacco and vanilla wafted through the air, and you took an imperceptible breath in as you steeled yourself before putting your practiced, signature smile.

A memory from your childhood flashed before you.

"She is excelling in her studies," your tutor had said, discussing your performance with your mother in the drawing room. You, sitting beside them, had fidgeted nervously with your small hands clasped in your lap, sitting as straight as you could manage.

"What must she do to improve?" your mother inquired, her eyes sharp with concern.

"Madame," your tutor had said, turning his gaze towards you with a knowing look. "Your daughter is quite nearly flawless. She is of my most exceptional students; her obedience and composure are unparalleled, even at such a tender age." He then fixed his eyes back on your mother with an authoritative intensity. "But there is one element that will truly distinguish her as a diamond."

Your mother had leaned forward, abandoning her tea in anticipation. "What is it?"

"Her smile."

As you flash your smile to the room, you could feel the people in the room going silent. Your smile was what helped you focus and keep your eyes on the prize: impressing the queen. Smiling in the most innocent and demure way you could possibly muster, you straighten your posture as you advance towards the queen, your eyes serene and your expression a masterful display of delicate charm.

The stares of the ton were on your back, but all you focused on was the harmony of your countenance. Chin up, you reminded yourself. Everyone in this room is my prey, and I am the predator.

When you and your mother reached the foot of the Queen's throne, you dipped into the deepest curtsy you had to offer, keeping your eyes on the ground as you minimized your smile to a more polite and respectful one. You stayed there for as long as the Queen was silent.

Then, a rustling of fabric as the room silently gasped. The Queen was stepping towards you, and you felt a gloved hand take your chin. Not daring to breathe or rise from your genuflection by even an inch, you forced your body to stay in position as your face was raised to look at the Queen’s.

Her booming, yet regal, voice echoed throughout the room. “You, my dear. Perfect.” She then addressed the room. “I have found my diamond!”

The declaration sent a wave of murmurs through the gathered crowd. You could feel hundreds of eyes on you as you slowly rose from your curtsy, your heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes instinctively sought your mother’s, who looked at you with pride and a hint of warning.

“Keep smiling, my dear,” she whispers into your ear. “They are staring now, more than ever.”

Your mother was right, upon reflection. There were eyes observing you far more diligently than they had before. In particular, a pair of icy and brilliant blue ones.

“Choso, not today.” Your mother sighed. “I am not ignorant of your overprotective tendencies, especially towards your younger sister and brother.”

Choso was fully frowning in displeasure, arms crossed as he observed your mother, Yuji, and yourself board the carriage. “Mother. Sister is the diamond of the season. The men will be after her like hungry vultures!”

“Well, vultures have a tendency to eat freshly decayed carrion. When you get rid of those dark circles and don’t look like dead meat, you can join us.”

Choso protested further, stopping the doorman from closing the carriage door. “But, Mother⸺”

“Yuji, close the door. Your brother will join us when learns to get sleep and not work on those ledgers overnight.” As per your mother’s instructions, Yuji closes the door on him. As the carriage rolls out of your manor and into the London streets, you blow a mocking kiss to your brother, who is now brewing at the doorstep.

“Phew! Good riddance,” Your mother fanned herself. “I need this night with you, alone. God knows how many suitors will be warded off with that horrid glare of his.”

You laughed softly, leaning back against the plush cushions of the carriage. “I suppose it’s a small price to pay for a bit of peace.”

You and your mother were wrong; your brother should have been there.

Upon your arrival, you were followed by stares, whispers, and men. Bachelors appeared in droves, eager to engage in conversation, each drawn by your newly anointed title as the diamond of the season. After paying your respects to the Queen, you found yourself swept into a whirlwind of attention, each dance and conversation a testament to the allure your status had brought.

As you navigated the crowd with practiced grace, Yuji, ever the observant and cheeky sibling, leaned in close to you and murmured, “I must say, you’ve outdone yourself. They’re practically circling like hawks. Do you think we’ll need to hire a guard just to keep them at bay?”

You gave him a wry smile, barely concealing your exasperation. “Oh, Yuji, you’re so dramatic. They’re just eager to make their introductions.”

Yuji snickered and nodded towards a particularly earnest-looking gentleman who seemed to be making a concerted effort to catch your attention. “Well, if this is what the season looks like, I might have to prepare myself for a front-row seat to a parade of besotted suitors. Just don’t let them all think you’re here to catch them; we wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea.”

Your mother, overhearing Yuji’s jest, gave a light laugh and shook her head. “Oh, Yuji, you and your theatrics. Just make sure you’re ready to fend off any advances that come your way.”

“What?” You’ve never seen Yuji’s smile drop so fast. As if on cue, there were mamas and maidens closer to Yuji’s age that were approaching, as if a pack, and he looked at you in panic. “Are they coming towards us? Sister, you’ve got to⸺”

“Mister Itadori,” It appeared it was too late. A pack of young ladies were right next to you, fluttering their fans and lashes and giggling. “Whistledown has praised you quite well in this last issue.”

Help, Yuji mouthed, but you merely winked in response. The young ladies had effectively formed a barrier around you, offering a temporary reprieve from the throng of eager suitors. Sensing an opportunity, you decided to seize the moment and discreetly made your way towards the punch table.

The cool, refreshing scent of the punch greeted you as you approached, offering a welcome contrast to the bustling, heated atmosphere of the ballroom. You filled a glass with the fruity, aromatic beverage and took a moment to savor the brief solitude.As soon as you took a deep breath in, savoring your newfound freedom, you felt a presence next to you at the punch table. “Miss Itadori.”

Upon turning, you were met with the infallible smirk of Naoya Zen’in. You had indeed heard⸺and read, in Whistledown⸺that his family adopted nontraditional ways of determining the winner of the family inheritance and leadership. While Lord Zen’in wasn’t guaranteed to be the heir, he definitely was one of the top contenders. You assessed him further, taking in his arrogant demeanor as he reached down to give you a kiss on your hand. Rather wet, you thought in disgust.

But you hid it well, fluttering your lashes up at him. “Mister Zen’in! I am flattered to be acquainted with you today. How do you find today’s ball?”

“Rather well, of course.” He reached to scoop some punch for himself. “I enjoy meeting all the young ladies and dancing with them, of course. Ever in search of my perfect bride.”

You forced an artificial giggle. “Of course. I’m sure all the ladies that have talked to you have been charmed, as am I.”

He swelled, exactly you expected, as you stroked his ego. “But none of these ladies are as valuable as you, my diamond.” To your displeasure, he took a step closer to you, discreetly tracing his finger from your upper arm to where your dance card resided. “May I have your next dance? I have been perfecting my dance skill to the point all my brothers are envious of my prowess!” He barked out a laugh. “In fact, I beat them in horse riding years ago, and…”

While Naoya kept talking, you merely fluttered your fan over your face in mock interest. You were really starting to mourn your short-founded freedom, wanting a respite from the self obsessed young man. For some reason, you could smell the same distinctive perfume of expensive tobacco and painfully sweet vanilla you had smelled in your presentation, like a warning. Realizing you were drifting off into space with the heady fragrance, you made sure to tune into his ramblings once more.

For some reason⸺that you were growing to find uncomfortable⸺he still had his hand on your dance card. You felt the previously faint aroma growing stronger by the second. “Of course, I am soon to be the heir of the Zen’in name⸺”

A flamboyant and mischievous laugh cut through the air. “Naoya, you amuse me.” To your alarm, a young man steps to the right of you. From what you can see on the side of his face, his head sports brilliant white hair and his eyes are focused on the bachelor in front of you, who is now displeased and openly glaring at the man beside you.

“Gojo, I⸺”

“Funny that you talk about the Zen’in inheritance, Naoya.” The man⸺Gojo⸺scratched his chin in faux puzzlement while cockily smiling. “Last time I checked, Naobito was discussing handing it over to Megumi over pall-mall!”

Naoya was clearly growing more and more distressed. “Father wouldn’t dare to hand that child with a whore of a mother⸺”

Gojo clicked his tongue, outwardly showing a nonchalant smile, but you could noticeably see his eyes darken. “That’s no way to talk in front of a lady, Naoya, and certainly not of a mother. Besides, Mister Zen’in, didn’t Megumi save your family from the edge of poverty?”

Naoya’s nostrils flared. Clearly at the end of his wit, he did a small bow towards you as he swiftly exited your proximity. You blinked, partially processing the conversation that happened as well as the fact that you were now alone with this Gojo. Turning, you prepared your signature smile, the act you had been presenting for countless of young bachelors today. However, what made you stop in your tracks was his eyes.

Even the pure Englishmen you had met in London didn’t possess eyes like his. They were intense and vividly blue, flashing with judgment and calculation. His face, though strikingly pretty and slightly more feminine than others, seemed carefully constructed to mask his true thoughts. His white lashes contrasted sharply with his hair as he blinked.

And then it hit you. This was the heir of the Gojo dukedom, Satoru Gojo. Known as a capital R Rake for reasons unknown to you (Nobara just insisted he was), you could see elegance and arrogance exuding off of him, yet another noble with an ego as big as his wallet. You recall, then, what Whistledown had wrote about him⸺that he has never shown interest in marriage before today.

It was only after he blinked once more that you realized he was waiting for some response to an introuction you didn't catch. In a panicked flurry, you curtsied and said, “My apologies, Mister Gojo. I fear I haven’t had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Miss Itadori, pleased to meet you.”

Gojo’s smile widened, his blue eyes twinkling with an almost imperceptible amusement. “A pleasure indeed, Miss Itadori.” He returned your curtsy with an elegant nod, his voice smooth and teasing. “I must say, you handle yourself with admirable grace amidst such a tumultuous crowd, my diamond.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gojo,” you replied, attempting to regain your composure as you took a sip of your punch. “I do try my best to navigate these social minefields.”

He chuckled softly, the sound light and charming. “Indeed. Though it seems you’ve had quite the evening already, judging by your rapid responses to Lord Zen’in’s advances.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to draw a hint of a smile on your lips. “It appears you’ve been observing closely. Are you always so keenly aware of your surroundings, Mister Gojo?”

“Only when I find the scene particularly entertaining,” he said, his gaze shifting to watch the guests around the ballroom. “And tonight, the spectacle is quite extraordinary. I must admit, you are a refreshing change from the usual parade of predictable manners.”

“Predictable?” you asked, your curiosity somewhat piqued. “Do you find most of the guests here lacking in originality?”

“Perhaps not lacking, but certainly not as intriguing,” he replied with a playful grin. “Take, for instance, Mister Zen’in. A man of considerable ambition, no doubt, but with a flair for the dramatic that grows tiresome rather quickly.”

You nodded in agreement. “Yes, he certainly has a penchant for self-promotion. But then, one could argue that every gentleman here has his own brand of theatrics.”

“True,” Gojo said, tilting his head slightly. “But what I find most fascinating is how you’ve managed to stand out amidst this display of pomp and circumstance. It’s not every day one encounters someone who seems so effortlessly poised, even in the face of such overt competition.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister Gojo,” you said with a light laugh. “But I assure you, my composure is a carefully cultivated skill, not merely a natural state.”

“Ah, then I must commend your efforts,” Gojo said, his eyes gleaming. “It is a rare talent to maintain such grace under pressure. If I may be so bold, might I request the honor of a dance with you this evening? I promise to provide a diversion from the usual pretenses.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the potential benefits of engaging further with this intriguing man against the immediate demands of the evening. Finally, you offered him a meek smile. "Of course. I shall be delighted to dance this waltz with you."

Pleased, he guided you to the center of the ballroom, your hand elegantly placed in his. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph as you noticed Lady Mei Mei’s envious glances and the heated stares from other young ladies.

Gojo positioned his hand on your waist as you both assumed the proper stance for the dance. “So, how are you enjoying your night? I trust you’re finding pleasure amidst the horde of suitors the Queen has so graciously provided.”

You smiled demurely, carefully maneuvering around him. “Well, my lord, I am very grateful to the Queen for her blessing this season.” You took a delicate step, noting Gojo’s amused smile. “However, it is quite tiring to meet so many people. Repeating my preferences for the countryside or the city can become rather exhausting.”

Gojo’s smile widened as he guided you through a graceful turn. “And which do you prefer?”

“I would argue that the city is preferable when I feel lonely,” you said, gliding with him. “Yet the countryside is ideal for moments of solitude and reflection. Naturally, it also serves as a lovely setting for fond memories with a future husband.”

“What do you enjoy doing in nature?”.

“Embroidering or practicing the pianoforte,” you replied, making sure to display a wistful smile. “There is something particularly enchanting about playing the piano with the door open, letting nature's melody blend with the music.”

“Do you have any other talents or skills?” Gojo inquired as you both continued your dance.

“Yes,” you said, “I am fond of reading and immersing myself in literature. I also have a passion for the arts and languages.”

“Which languages do you speak?” he asked, guiding you through a series of intricate steps.

“I am well-versed in the classics⸺Latin and Greek. I’ve also picked up some French and Spanish, when I was yearning to follow my older brother through Europe for years.”

“What about literature? What do you enjoy reading?” Gojo pressed, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your smile grew slightly strained as you felt the conversation veer towards an uncomfortable territory. You felt as if the duke was interviewing you for review of your admission into an academic institution rather than holding conversation. “I enjoy Byron, sir,” you said carefully.

Gojo hummed in approval. “And here I was, thinking all ladies were engrossed in Whistledown.”

“Ah, well,” you feigned a sigh, your smile tight. “Gossip has its charm for a lady, sometimes.”

“For men, too, I must admit,” Gojo said, tilting his head towards his group of friends. “But I must confess, it is rather unpleasant when the gossip circulates that I am a rake.”

That's because they're true, you whore. "I guess it's up to the smarter individuals in society to discern the truth from the slander."

Gojo’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he guided you through the final steps of the dance. “Indeed, it seems wisdom and discernment are valuable traits in navigating the labyrinth of society’s gossip.”

You nodded. “Quite so. It is the discerning few who see beyond the surface and recognize the true character of a person.”

As the music swelled to its concluding notes, Gojo drew you closer, his gaze fixed on you with a calculative expression. “And what is it that you seek to convey through your own character, Miss Itadori? In a world full of pretense, what do you wish to be known for?”

You maintained your practiced smile. "Mister Gojo, in a world where appearances often speak louder than words, I find it best to embody grace and humility. I hope to be seen as a gentle and devoted companion, one who supports and uplifts those around her.”

Gojo’s smile only sharpened, and you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of somehow being calculated, observed, even hunted as he offered, “A noble aspiration. It is refreshing to encounter someone who values authenticity amidst the artifice.”

As the final strains of the waltz came to an end, Gojo escorted you back to your starting position. He bowed deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Itadori. It has been an evening of unexpected delights.”

You curtsied in return, your eyes meeting his with a demure and sincere expression. “The pleasure was mine, my lord. I am honored to have had this opportunity.”

With a final, charming smile, Gojo stepped back, giving you a nod. “Until we meet again, Miss Itadori. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

After Gojo had taken his leave, you found yourself once again surrounded by a steady stream of suitors eager to engage you in conversation. You indulged a few with polite discourse, your smile unwavering as you navigated the well-trodden paths of societal pleasantries. Despite your best efforts, fatigue began to set in, and you soon reached your limit.

Deciding to take a brief respite, you excused yourself with practiced grace. You made your way discreetly to the veranda, seeking solace and a breath of fresh air away from the relentless din of the ballroom. As you stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of the revelry faded to a distant murmur, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint scent of blooming flowers.

With your mind fresh and clear from the suffocating revelry, you couldn't help but reflect back on the night. With the Queen deeming you as the diamond of the season, you knew your mother and Choso had been appeased. Of course, tomorrow was going to be a long morning; judging by the sheer number of young men approaching you today, you knew many of them would be visiting your drawing room to converse with you and gain the approval of your brother.

There were some suitors that stood out. Lord Ino seemed to take genuine interest in what you had to say, but Mister Fushiguro had both interest and quiet respect that you couldn't help but think was ideal for a marriage. After all, you just wanted a peaceful life after securing yourself and your family. While brief, you had conversed a bit with both Duke Nanami and Lord Geto, but it had been interrupted by some of their friends inviting them onto the terrace. You were sure Naoya wouldn't bother showing his face tomorrow.

That left him. Blue eyes. You couldn't help but think you had heard about him somewhere.

Gojo.

Even though you couldn't recall much other than his rakish tendencies, the future title of Duke was certainly attractive and respectable. He wasn't so bad; with dashing looks, you couldn't help but simply think that a pretty face wouldn't be bad to look at for all those years. You snickered to yourself at your sheer display of vanity in your thoughts.

If you had to think of the most vain reasons to justify your suitors, Mister Gojo would definitely top your list of the most handsome of men. With a sturdy and healthy build, you could notice the years of dedication he must put in to maintain his athleticism. Perhaps archery, you thought. Those shoulders were definitely wide for days. Or maybe horse riding. He definitely seemed to fill in his pants with his thighs.

However, it was impossible to ignore his mischievous nature. You couldn't imagine a man such as the future Duke showing any outward display of affection, and all your interactions⸺from him outwitting Naoya, to interviewing you under the pretense of dancing⸺have always had him either besting or calculating the other converser. He definitely had a superiority complex, you rolled your eyes. Clearly, your display of the simple and stupid maiden pleased him. You wondered if he treated all the other ladies with the same level of disrespect and evaluation.

Deciding you were too far into the gardens, you turned the opposite direction to join the revelry once more in fear of attracting strange rumors about your presence in the gardens late at night. As soon as you got closer and closer to the ballroom, you heard voices.

"Ah, but there is the diamond, of course."

You perked up, interested in knowing who was talking about you. The voices seemed to be coming from the entrance between the terrace and the ballroom. "Of course, I understand why the Queen has deemed her so." Crouching, you aimed to discreetly hide behind a large trimmed bush in such a manner that if someone were to be passing by, you wouldn’t appear suspicious.

Another voice chimed in. “She is beautiful. Not in the salacious way Lady Mei Mei is, but in a more authentic and innocent way.”

“I fear the ladies nowadays are salacious⸺hungry for suitors with money and power⸺so it only makes sense that the ladies appear that way. But the diamond; she is different.”

A slap, as if someone was affectionately patted on the back for attention. “Yes, yes. But let the man of the night give us his assessment. After all, he is the one who is here tonight with us, finding a wife, when no one who had ever talked to him would ever think he would be doing such a thing.”

“Well, of course. It wouldn’t take a fool to know that marriage is basically imprisonment.” You could discern the speaker’s wry tone. “The goal here is to appease my parents, and my ticket to that is the diamond.”

“Well, get on with it,” a voice pressed, rather impatiently. “What’s your assessment?”

“A bit simpleminded.” Some feeling struck your lungs, as you recognized that it was Gojo’s voice that was speaking. You swallowed, your heart pounding as you waited for more harsh words to torrent upon you. “Has no opinions of substance that should cause conflict. She’s perfectly fine for a wife. I shall begin courting her and will soon propose⸺"

You didn’t hear the rest because you soon found yourself dashing in the opposite direction, towards an alternate entrance to the ballroom. You couldn’t bear to hear any of the more degrading and embarrassing things Gojo had to say about you as you slowed your pace to a fast walk.

With the main entrance to the ballroom in sight, you thought about the other gentlemen⸺if you could even call them that⸺that must be present, conversing with Gojo. How widespread are these assessments of you? Do all gentlemen think you stupid? However, your thoughts are interrupted when you bump into someone, rather hard.

“Are you alright?”

You look up, putting a hand to your bosom as you try to catch your breath. You see Duke Nanami’s face in close proximity, as he furrows his brow in light worry. You’re clutching your forearms as you are heaving, trying to get oriented. “Yes,” you heave. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Nanami clearly didn’t accept your assurance as he helped you stand to your full height. “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, no, I assure you; I am quite alri⸺”

“Sister! There you are!” Yuji comes up from behind Nanami, and both of you turn to look at him. “I’ve been looking for you! The punch here is terrible, some of the mamas here are horribly intoxicated. Do you know Mei Mei’s mother just admit⸺” he cuts himself off as he observes Nanami, who’s still touching your arms, with wide eyes. “Di⸺Did I interrupt something?”

“NO, you didn’t.” You burst out, not wanting yet another man leaving with an unfavorable expression of you tonight. You and Nanami both take a step back to distance yourselves, and he clears his throat.

“Good night, Miss Itadori. Mister Itadori.” He gives you both curt bows as he makes his way past to his carriage.

Yuji blinks. “Oookay. Anyways. Mei Mei’s mother just barfed on top of Naoya as she was buttering him up. I must admit, Mei Mei and Naoya make a formidable match in being intolera⸺”

You could feel yourself filtering Yuji out as you thought about the gentlemen’s gossip from earlier. While you weren’t exactly surprised that Gojo appraised you as a pawn, you couldn’t help but be a little offended that he could talk behind your back. Who’s to predict the other naive ladies that would be subject to his callous and calculative behavior?

There was only one conclusion to be drawn that you swear to remember for the rest of the season: Gojo was not a man of honor, and you were not going to be one of his victims.

next. the aftermath

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risuola · 5 months

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ENTRY #4 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // Your fingertips brought me back from the death.

contents: arranged marriage!au, slight hurt-comfort — wc. 921

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„It hurts, Satoru.”

Pain. Agonizing, paralyzing pain was something Gojo had to teach himself to live with. He wouldn’t tell anyone, he’s the strongest, the honored one, he’s… a human. No matter how trained he was, how much control over his own body he had, how efficiently he managed his cursed energy, he never learned how to deal with the side effects of the cursed blessing he inherited.

It felt like he’s dying. Every time his six eyes were put to work for more than enough, a part of him was begging for an end to the suffering he had to endure. He felt like his head was splitting open from the inside out, like his brain was bleeding, his eyes were burning. He could feel the pounding of his heartbeat, fast and uneven, in his temples, ears and neck; he was sweating and frowning. He was miserable. Vulnerable. He couldn’t focus on anything and every move he made only made the anguish worse. It was a misery. Excruciation. But then–

“What do you think you’re doing?”

–then your soft, warm palms planted themselves on top of his closed lids oh so gently and Satoru realized that he held your wrist in an iron grip – a defense mechanism he couldn’t control whenever anyone got too close to his eyes. With his infinity turned off, he felt helpless against your touch, but submitted himself to your mercy and it tingled. An odd sensation that seemed to envelop his head in a protective hood of something he couldn’t understand slowly soothed the torment inside his skull. The pounding mellowed and the muscles between his brows and in his shoulders began to relax underneath the calming influence of your doing.

Satoru let out a shaky breath, one that he just noticed he was holding in, and his fingers that once wrapped around the fragile bones of your forearm now shifted to the top of your knuckles, greedy to hold your hands there longer. His senses were calming, coming to the sharpness he’s used to have and slowly he started registering more than just the balm of your hands. Slowly he became aware of you. The subtle, sweet scent of your perfume mixed with equally pleasant, slightly flowery note of washing detergent you bought recently – the one he had to carry for you the other day because you had enough bags in your hands and texted him for help. He felt the softness of your stomach against the top of his hair as you stood behind the couch on top of which he was sitting, with his head tilted back.

“You’re hurting. I’m helping you,” and the melody of your voice, quieted and gentle that now he was finally able to hear clearly once the echo of his own heartbeat stopped deafening his eardrums.

Satoru couldn’t tell what you were doing. He felt the very distinct signature of your cursed energy flowing through your palms but it wasn’t something he could recognize. He also couldn’t tell what gave away his suffering – was it the way he entered the house that day? After a week-long job outside the city, he dropped his coat and kicked off the shoes and then, without acknowledging you he nearly collapsed onto the couch. It wasn’t the first time he ignored you and surely it wasn’t the first time he was in pain in your presence. Maybe the grunt he let out when dropping his weight onto the cushions made it too obvious that he was in agony?

“How do you know I’m hurting?” He asked, too curious, too unsure to let the question go.

“You’re always hurting after those longer jobs,” you replied and he hummed, perplexed to realize that you’ve been seeing his misery before. “It’s the six eyes, right? Your head hurts when you overuse it.” Your words made him speechless; the tone you used – full of care and concern, it got him frozen for a moment or two. “You saved me many times, so I learned this to save you.”

“You learned this for me?”

“I did,” you let out a soft chuckle, the kind that flows on top of a breath without much sound to it. You moved your hands a little, resting your thumbs on top of his skin and moving them in little circles, rubbing the tension away from his forehead and temples. It felt intimate in a way and Satoru wasn’t used to stripping his infinity off to connect with other humans in such private level. “I wasn’t sure if it’s even going to work. I couldn’t test it before because it only applies to you.”

“A technique that works only on me?” He repeated the words that didn’t make sense in his mind. Why would you go so far for him? He wasn’t a man you chose to spend your life with, he wasn’t even good to you. “How?”

“Well, it’s a little mix of my cursed technique and yours and subconsciously you allowed my energy to enter your head and release the tension that built up after you overused your eyes. It’s not really reversed cursed technique, I don’t know how to explain this… but all that matter is that it works,” you concluded with a soft sigh of relief.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your wife, Satoru. Because you carry enough weight on your shoulders to pay the price of saving the world. Because you don’t have to be the strongest all the time and you don’t have to do this alone.”

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cupidkenji · 6 months

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the warm spot at the bottom of the stairs

Pairing: Ghost!Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!Reader CW: Fluff, Mild Angst, Soulmate AU, reader has dreams, mentions of sex/masturbation, mentions of death, cursing, reader feels like she knows him but they've never met, let me know if I missed anything please! Summary: After inheriting your grandfather's estate, you fall in love with the man from your dreams. He just so happens to be in your house, too. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but in this she's literally not described aside from the fact that she has hips, a stomach, and legs on her body. WC: 9k (this is what happens when you let a man cook) This fic is genuinely my baby. I love soulmate aus with all my heart and soul and also love the dynamic of falling in love with a ghost. Enjoy this please, I tried <3

You swore the heat radiating off the sidewalk was enough to melt the soles of your shoes down to liquid. The sun was unforgivably angry today, glaring down at the world like it had a score to settle. You were less than thankful, as the death of your grandfather had stolen any desire you once held for warmth. The brutal dichotomy of the cold pit sitting in your stomach and the burning heat of the day only added to the sour taste in your mouth.

This house was fucking huge.

You had no idea how your grandfather managed to hide such an enormous investment from everyone in his life but he’d managed the task seamlessly. Nobody even knew what he was giving you at first. The reading of the will and testimony left nothing but confused relatives until they had found the address that marked the estate. Some were jealous of you, some were confused, some even asked if they could come live with you once you got settled in. You had been absolutely floored when you learned he’d given you a house. Being fresh out of university, you were moving on to grad school while simultaneously preparing yourself to live with your mother until you could afford anything besides student debt payments.

Now though, you had a castle, with no clue why a house this big was given to you of all people. You were your grandpa’s only grandchild and were by far one of the least deserving of such a generosity. Sure, you were close, but never abnormally close. You talked once a week on the phone and were glued to his side at family gatherings - but he saw your aunt everyday, and spoke with your mother much more than he ever did you. Was it pity? Maybe he saw this as the only plausible way of you escaping the fate of leeching off your mother. Hopefully he didn’t think of you so lowly.

You mentally cursed at the dull ache in your legs that persisted even after stretching. You had been driving all day with a car packed full of stuff that needed to be hauled into the house, and only yourself to move said stuff. You said a short plea in your head to not let the pain hinder your speed and began walking into the house to view the inside. The estate was isolated, huge fences of greenery surrounded the place, adding to the pleasant sight of budding flowers throughout the front yard. Even without the towering hedges, though, the nearest neighbor was miles away. Great, you thought. Any concerns of your car being robbed while you were gone were extinguished as quick as they came, but you locked the car regardless. Force of habit.

The heat was only lessened slightly when you reached the interior. You made a mental note to get the A.C. turned on, no way a temperature like this was a liveable one. You’re sure the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows were the culprit. They were excessive. Beautiful - of course - and you were thrilled at the amount of light they let in, but you could basically see the heatwaves permeating through the stained glass. Your eyes caught on the odd choice. The slightly colored glass making the mansion feel mildly like a church, the thought coming to you quickly and stripping any of the minimal comfort you held moments prior. That’s weird, you thought. Your grandpa had never been particularly religious. He was a man of faith - said grace before dinner and thanked Jesus for every day he lived, but never to this extent. He was rather progressive for a man his age.

The kitchen could have easily fit a team of 12 and you wondered if there had been staff at one point. There was no sign of any employees, and you prayed there weren’t any left working. The last thing you wanted was more responsibility in your life. You took your time walking the house, marveling at every painting and polished chandelier that was now an asset of yours. The house was gorgeous, you’d give at least that much to the old man. The centerpiece, of course, was the large spiral staircase leading to the second floor. As large as the house was, it held only two stories. Getting it’s square footage from length, rather than width. It was equally as glamorous as the house it resided in, however it filled you with a certain devastation you couldn’t place. As though your most primal self rejected the idea of it. That’s silly, you thought. You wanted to go upstairs, you were definitely not avoiding half of your house because a couple of your neck hairs stood at attention. The only real peculiarity was the heat pooling at the very bottom of the staircase. The kind of heat that seemed to thread itself into you, intertwine itself with your very being. The rest of the house was cold and accusatory, if your grandfather ever did live here, any of his warmth was flushed out by his death. This was the only spot in the whole house you felt calm, cared for. You could bask in it, weirdly fascinated with the little pocket of humanity that sat there.

It was more difficult than you’d expected to pull yourself out of it, and you could have sworn you felt arms trying to pull you back in. Ten minutes into your new life and you were already on edge. Negative feelings didn’t seem to penetrate the spot at the bottom of the stairs, so you physically felt the wave of unease when it struck you upon exiting. The upstairs was creepy. The abundance of windows was apparently only a trend on the first floor, as the second floor held dark, dim hallways. The whole thing, it seemed, was lit up by ancient lamps that lined the walls. It reminded you of the Shining, and you wondered briefly if maybe your mother would let you move back in. There was a bedroom right near the staircase, and you decided it would be yours. It could have been the smallest one for all you knew, the only thing you cared about was a quick escape if such a thing was needed. Something about the house put thoughts like that at the front of your mind.

You don’t recall ever being a paranoid person, nor a believer in the supernatural, but this house was watching you. The feeling of eyes on you was simply too strong to write off. What a warm welcome.

—

It had been a week, but the nights so far had been sleepless ones. The people you called on day one were just now getting around to starting the A.C. so you were hoping for a decent rest tonight. The fridge was stocked, your things mainly unpacked, and the house started feeling a little more like you with each day. Although, your friends were more or less convinced there was a ghost living with you. You spoke of the feelings you had, plus the fact it was an old and mildly creepy house, and they were off and running with theories. One of the tamer ones consisted of the house being an old church - given the windows - and that the eyes you were feeling were perhaps an old priest who died here. You were less than fond of that idea, but you would take it any day to the other propositions of old mental hospitals and certain death. You made a mental note to never again let your friends speculate on situations you couldn’t get out of.

You argued that a malevolent spirit wouldn’t invoke such a comforting sense within you. You felt watched - yes - but it wasn’t as though you felt stalked. It was much worse, actually, you felt lonely. Loneliness was never a battle you fought very hard in. You had hobbies, and you had friends. The desire for a romantic companion usually took the back burner if it was even a thought at all. People questioned the topic - you were pretty, smart, capable - what more could somebody want? They asked if you were insecure, if you liked girls, told you that you were wasting your “prime years” and needed to find someone - but it was never that simple. You just didn’t get it. The feelings others spoke of were unfamiliar ones to you. You held your breath for a long time before realizing that it probably just wasn’t for you, that you were built a little differently.

Needless to say, you were uncomfortable with the sudden sensation. It felt like seeing the moon in a glass jar - something unfathomably beautiful but something you were unable to hold. Lord knows it wasn’t from a lack of desire, though. You’re sure you reeked of longing, able to suppress the lot of it but unable to stop some from slipping through the cracks of your fingers. And with no obvious direction to cast it, it just clung to you and seeped back into your skin.

–

“No, dude, I’m telling you shit’s fucking weird.” You shoveled popcorn into your mouth as you spoke with your friend. This was the third call since you moved in. “Every night I wake up at like two in the morning and just for a split second I feel it. It’s like I'm lying on someone’s shoulder or something. And - oh my god - the amount of times I get stuck in that fucking warm spot on the stairs is gonna drive me crazy.”

You could hear her laughing at your frustration on the other end. “What do you mean you get stuck? Y/n I'm getting worried about your mental state.”

“No I’m telling you, I walk in this one - like - warm spot and I enter some kind of trance. Like I want to leave but I can’t - Jesus!”

“Are you alright?” Your friend was quick to ask, hearing you cut yourself off mid sentence.

“No! This shit is haunted I swear. My kitchen lights just turned off for no reason. If I die here I’m blaming you and Kelly for not getting me out.” You were being dramatic, you knew that, but it was starting to feel justified. You don’t remember a time in the last week you felt truly by yourself.

“Hey don’t blame us for your own choi-” She started speaking, but you lost her.

“Hello? You there?” You tried calling her again but the usual buzz of the dial tone was dead silent, the lamps that were illuminating the house followed soon after. Phone lines were the first to go in a power outing. No fucking way the power just went out. You felt around in the dark for the drawer of the end table. There had been a flashlight on the counter when you’d first arrived. You threw it in the end table because you had no clue why it was there - you were thanking God you’d done so while also praying the thing had batteries in it. You wrapped your hand around the object and said one more plea to the stars you wouldn’t have to be without light until tomorrow. Somebody must have been listening, as the room lit up when you hit the ‘on’ switch of the flashlight.

You’d seen the fuse box towards the south end of the upstairs hallway, sitting between a Da Vinci replica and a mirror taken straight from a movie star's wet dream. I’m gonna die was the only thing you could think at a moment like this. You were for sure going to see glowing red eyes at the end of the hall and die a horrific and bloody death. Thanks grandpa. The warm spot was a welcome refuge from your journey to certain death, and you embraced the sense of peace it brought you at a time when your heart was surely beating too fast. You held the light in front of you as you ventured up the stairs. The top of them seemed cartoonishly haunting, you thought momentarily that you would fit perfectly into a Scooby Doo episode. It was vast and dark, having multiple pathways you could walk down, but you set your sights on the south hall and did your best to disable your peripheral vision. It was right there. You just had to reset the power and you’d have your precious light back. Who puts a fucking mirror above a fuse box?

You held the flashlight between your teeth as you focused on your task. Open and reset. Open and reset. It was truly as simple as that and then you could be done. Go watch a midnight rerun on TV and pray that the spirits would leave you alone. Open and reset. The switches were flipped off - you didn’t think that was normal but what did you know - so you flipped them back on and heard the hum of life returning to the house. Thank God. Your nerves dissipated almost immediately. You were alright, no ghost had it out for you. It’s an old house, and would probably experience things like this a lot. You could do that again if you had to. You looked up, though, and ate your words. There was definitely a man behind you. If you had been trying to look at him, you would have seen he was young, tall. You probably would have thought he was attractive, but you had no time for that. You whirled around, yelping at the sight of him and mentally preparing to defend your life. It proved futile though, he was gone as quickly as he came. There was nowhere he could have gone that fast, so as much as you were certain he was there, you settled for him being imaginary. It was dark upstairs, and you were scared out of your mind. Surely your eyes were overcompensating for the paranoia that was racing through you. You walked back to the couch on guard and decided to call your friend back tomorrow. It was nearly twelve, and you knew she had work tomorrow. You could cope using TV and proper lighting to comfort you until sunrise. What’s one more sleepless night?

“You boys let me know if you need anything.” You heard the words in your own voice as if listening to a stranger.

“Sure thing, doll.” All the men were in uniform. Gray fabric covered their bodies, adorned with hats of the same color. Soldiers.

You walked back behind the front counter as the bell above the door continuously chimed at the arrival of new guests. Orders were being shouted to the cooks. You stared at the bold letters painted on the large graffiti piece decorating the wall, “Cathy’s Cooking.” A greasy apron covered the light blue dress beneath it - waitress attire. The smell of fried eggs clashed hard with the scent of sanitizer you were using to wipe down the counter. Bells rang to signal orders were ready to be taken out to guests, and you discarded the rag you used to mop up spilled coffee.

“Thanks, Benny.” You nodded to the chef as you took the food plates to table two. He nodded back at you before returning to flipping bacon.

“L/N!” Your manager barked at you. “Take your break. Be back in thirty.” He was a friendly man, though he got a bit hostile under pressure.

You couldn’t be more thankful for the break. It was hour 6 of your shift and you were beginning to think he might never let you off. You removed the apron as quick as possible and excused yourself out the back entrance to cool off in the alley way. It got hot as hell during rush hour, so the way the slight breeze nipped your cheeks felt like heaven.

“Tough shift?”

“Jesus!”

He started laughing as you startled, turning to face him. “‘Fraid it’s just me, honey.” He walked towards you as you grinned at him.

“You scared me, Spence.”

He shook his head, mocking you. “I’m so sorry.” Drama queen. “How ever will I make it up to you?”

You giggled at that, and wrapped your arms around his neck as he got closer. He put his hands on your hips, leaning you against the brick wall of the alley. You could feel your lungs open up when he kissed you, always feeling like you could breathe better when his lips were on yours. He was your God given destresser. He still donned his uniform but had opted for taking the hat off, he knew you hated when his hair was hidden.

“That’s not very nice, Reid. I thought you were a gentleman. What would your boys think of you being so mean to a lady?”

He smiled a bit at that. “You like when I’m a little mean, Y/N.”

Fuck. He had you there.

You looked to the side for a second to snuff out some of the tension. “How long are you here for?”

“We’re in town for two weeks. Gotta catch a boat up to base 14 on the 20th. Supposedly they’re preparing for a big fight.”

You frowned as you made eye contact with him.“I get so worried about you. About all of you. I don’t know what I’d do if - you know if something happened.” He’d been a soldier for a little while now, joining when he turned 18. He’d kept his hands on your hips, and you started to run your hands through his hair, a nervous habit you picked up when the two of you first got together.

“I know, honey. But by the time it’s done I’ll be off my leash. I do this and we can run away together.”

You looked at him the way you always did - with such admiration and love that he often had to look away before it went to his head. He swore he looked at you the same, but you knew deep down nobody could love anyone as much as you loved him. You laughed a bit at the elation you got from just his presence.

“I got lucky with you, Reid.”

He just shook his head. “Give yourself more credit, L/n.”

Your consciousness hit you like a truck and you realized before long that sun was shining through the windows. You’d fallen asleep sometime between ultimate terror and fleeting hope of your survival. And that dream - dear lord what the fuck was that dream. It was more vivid than you thought possible. You always forget most of your dreams when you wake up, but this time it felt like forgetting would be a betrayal. You could recall word for word every single thing about that dream. It was as though you saw a movie of your own life. A feeling so familiar you could taste it but just far enough to escape your grasp - and boy were you reaching. Not to mention the man. You didn’t know if this was some sort of coping mechanism you were inventing in your head but that was definitely the same man from the mirror last night. An imaginary friend. You had an imaginary friend as a grown woman. Terrific.

–

“You’re never going to attract a suiter with such a tragic expression, my dear.” This had to be the third time your mother had roused this point in the past hour.

“These dances are dreadful, idiotic nights of captivity that do nothing but mock the existence of genuine companionship.” The irony of you saying this while patting your cheeks with rose pigment was not lost on you. “Let me scrub myself raw and willingly restrain myself in hopes a man will see me and fall in love.” You spat out the last word with enough vitriol to hopefully drown yourself in. “Maybe he’ll like me so much he’ll lay claim and I can live on to be his housewife and half a person. How I've always dreamed of letting a man decide how much value I have.” You were flustered by the end of your spiel, looking at your mother through the large vanity with the tentative hope of a child asking for sweets.

“You read too much, darling. Those little romance books of yours are nothing but nonsense.” She was a professional at writing you off by now. “You know plenty of women who are perfectly satisfied with their lives. This is how we do things, Y/n. I don’t understand why you insist on fighting it so intently.”

She was never truly angry at your defiance, only tired. You could never tell if she was tired of you complaining or if she, like you, was tired of living this way. Your mother had married young - even for the times - and you knew your father left much to be desired in her life. They were basically repulsed by each other, only joining in union to produce a child. Your mother had been thrilled to have a daughter. Your father would trade you if he could, but he made do. The ultimate lack of affection between the two of them made you ill. You weren’t much older than your mother had been, you could very well end up trapped and child-bound in a loveless marriage.

“I would rather die alone than end up with my father.” You spoke, she sighed.

“I know.”

You stared at her through the mirror for a moment longer, then you rose from your chair. Your makeup was done, your look now complete. You noticed your mother’s eyes start to well up at the sight of you and she started to walk closer.

“My beautiful girl.” She smiled, forbidding the tears to venture down her cheeks, and held your shoulders. “You deserve a man who will worship you. Your future husband will be the luckiest man on planet Earth.” A gentle prompt, but a prompt nonetheless. You knew she loved you, but she carried more shame as you got older. Having only a daughter was something frowned upon, but having only a daughter hellbent on avoiding marriage was something that weighed on her.

“I’ll see you in the carriage.” Then she was gone, kissing your cheek and taking her exit to go talk with the director of the communal ride. Carriage was being generous, it was more like a one-way wagon to the local suiter’s ball. You watched her leave with a sense of grief so intense it nearly toppled you. She deserved a man like that too.

This was your third ball of the month. The pool of potential partners diminished with each one. People would often take whatever they could get, meaning less and less people even needed these nights anymore. You walked in with your mother, hand resting gently in the crook of her extended elbow. Your father stopped attending with the two of you a while ago. You believed he’d given up hope of a man ever choosing you - Lord knows he wouldn’t. Scanning the crowd, you saw little to look forward to. The music was pleasant, you would dance with a couple men who seemed bearable at best and criminal at worst, indulge in some of the enticing pastries and teas, and then you would leave. Back home until your mother dragged you out the following week for another one. With your current rate, you assumed you would end up marrying the vagabond that perused your neighboring streets. Taking another look around, you thought you might prefer that.

You made your temporary home in a corner chair, letting your mother excitedly drag prospects up to you and watch dejectedly as they ruled you out as an option. You felt bad for her, considered caving in and finding a man to give you a child, but you remember swiftly how long the years take to pass when you’re miserable. The chair gave you a good view of the room, you could see the entrance and the dancefloor filled with enticing women waiting for men to notice them. You could feel the sweat start slicking your skin beneath the corset you wore. It was too hot in here.

If you hadn’t been so determined to ignore the occasional advances of bored men, you would have missed the small group entering the area. Two women and two men, you wondered briefly if it was two couples, but discarded that thought. This wasn’t a place for couples. You felt your heart physically lurch at the sight of the last man in the row of four, as though your heart was running to greet an old friend. Had you seen him before? Surely you would have remembered such a visceral reaction. You averted your eyes before he could notice you. You don’t remember ever wanting to be noticed by a man - especially not this badly. You allowed yourself the escape of your own thoughts, getting lost in your head to pass the time and focus on anything other than what was probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

You looked up, he was standing above you. The chair next to you had been taken all night, the same woman had been sulking in her seat, and you found comfort in the fact someone else was unhappy to be here. She was gone now. Someone was definitely messing with you.

“Not at all.”

Your mouth was drier than it had ever been. You wondered if your lips remained stained from the color you applied earlier. You’d done nothing but sit all night and yet you were praying nothing had happened to your makeup.

“Why are you alone in a corner?”

“Men tend to be repulsed by my pessimism. I also happen to hate it here. Serves for a less than desirable combination.” You refused to let your sudden attraction diminish your stubbornness. You hated the self-consciousness racing through you, no man had the right to take your assurance in yourself.

“Why do you hate it here?” He wasn’t being mocking. He seemed - genuinely - a little sad at the thought of you being unhappy.

“Well, sir, I am of the belief that these dances are nothing but congregations of people settling for lives that won’t make them happy. They trade excitement for safety as though the presence of security has to mean the presence of misery. I don’t think anyone can know the true meaning of love in our current state as a society.” You didn’t look at him as you spoke, instead staring out at the people dancing. “I hold no desire to settle. I am capable of making happiness on my own. Most men don’t like the thought of me not needing them.”

You were almost positive you lost him. You were betting on him not being there when you looked, preparing yourself to bite the bullet and cope with tonight’s losses. Maybe your mother would agree to leave early.

You heard him chuckle softly. “Sir.” He repeated your words, finding humor in the formality. “My name’s Spencer.” He added. “And I also happen to hate the purpose of these events. I’ve never actually been to one before, but I’m new to the city, and something about tonight was begging me to come out.”

You were absolutely bewitched by him. “I’m Y/n.”

“Fitting.” He smiled, a smile directed at his own thoughts, as though something in his mind had clicked. “Will you dance with me?”

The music had slowed severely. You scoffed at his proposal, but you were taking his hand as if you’d been waiting on this. Maybe you had been. You were grateful for the ballad that was playing, never having been one for upbeat dancing. He led you gracefully, and for once you felt yourself relinquish power. With a mind like yours, a man’s company was almost never wanted. With this one, though, you laid your heart at his feet as if you’d done so a dozen times before. The heat of his hands was seeping through your dress, and his eyes were locked with yours.

“I feel like I know you.” A confession. He had an effect like that.

“Maybe you do.”

–

Two in the morning. Everyday you’d woken up at two in the morning from a different dream involving the mysterious ‘Spencer Reid’. You friends had kindly dubbed him the “Man of your dreams” following the stories you told them. You’d been a housewife, trying to welcome him home from work before he laid you down and made an altar of your dining table.You’d been the daughter of a king, at one point, falling in love with his favored knight. Shamefully, that one haunted you. Reappearing in your mind during intimate times when you needed a spark. You’d never been one for desire either. When your friends started preaching the wonders of sex to you during your highschool days, you felt no pull towards the act. Just another it you didn’t understand. Now, though, this house served as an aphrodisiac. You lost count of your streak by day 13, and were now just begging whoever put this apparition in your home for the strength to keep your hand out of your pants.

Spencer had become more like a roommate rather than an unwanted guest. You saw him in most reflective surfaces around the house. You felt him everywhere. He sat at the table with you, watched TV with you, he would wait by the door when you got home from work. Sometimes, your hand or your shoulder would run hot. Physically hot, like he was putting his hands on you. You wondered if he was around during those times, but if he was there he made sure you didn’t know it. You were gaining a sort of intuition for him. The thought Spencer would like that struck you numerous times when you were window shopping or when you tried on an outfit. You were starting to think maybe you were just crazy. Perhaps a ghost who seemed to be your soulmate and made you incredibly horny was how all psychotic breaks started.

Weirdly, through your bizarre dreams and inconsistent sleeping patterns, this was the most well rested you’d felt in a while. Waking up at two am was routine now, sometimes you managed to fall back asleep afterwards but most times you were up dwelling on the images your mind had shown you that night. You thought maybe your body was just adjusting - surely it was nothing supernatural giving you energy - just the adaptivity of the human brain. One persistent thing you couldn’t adapt to, though, was how much you missed him. The increasing number of times you woke up to being the only occupant of your bed was starting to wear you down. You feel like you’d spent lifetimes with this man and yet he was someone you never knew. You'd seen the two of you fall in love countless different ways except the one that actually counted - the present.

“I genuinely don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Another phone call, another conversation about your rapidly declining mental state. “I have fallen in love with a figment of my own imagination. Surely this is some demented form of narcissism.”

“I don’t think it works like that, Y/n.” Your friend was terrible at comforting people. It probably didn’t help that you hadn’t been fully honest with her about the severity of your situation. From where she was standing, you had learned to lucid dream and now that was bleeding mildly into your real life. Not the biggest deal, maybe you were just lonely.

“It’s a ghost, dude, I’m fucking telling you. There’s no way I’m imaginative enough to conjure all this shit up.”

“You know his name right? Go down to the library and look him up. If he’s a ghost then surely there’ll be something to find.”

Holy shit. She was a genius. “Oh my God you’re so smart. I love you. You just saved my life. You’re God’s gift to the planet. Who would I be witho-”

“Jesus Christ will you just go? Stop kissing my ass and start driving. I want details when you get back.”

You don’t know if you’ve ever been so eager to get to the library of all places. If you could snag a computer spot then you could put an end to all of this. He wasn’t real, realistically you knew that, but you had a fool-proof way to check. If he was real you were going to have to come to terms with the fact you could see dead people. Well, a dead person. You had never seen any before Spencer. You’d never seen Spencer either, not before the house at least. They say you can’t make up faces, that if you see someone in a dream then you’ve seen them in real life but you were incredibly doubtful of that by now.

Spencer Reid. Thankfully the man didn’t have a particularly common name. You hoped there would be limited matches, less to look through. Pretty soon you could accept your own mental insanity and maybe ask your mother to spot you for some therapy. Well, moment of truth. You watched each letter be typed in with baited breath until his full name was in the search bar. Even just looking at his name brought that sense of calm. You were hopeless. Until, apparently, you weren’t.

Brilliant Dr. Reid dead at 26

Former FBI agent Spencer Reid found dead in his home

Spencer Reid co-workers speak out on his legacy. Where to go from here?

You scoured every article you could find, analyzing every pixel of every image available. This was your guy. Same Spencer Reid from your dreams. Same Spencer Reid that stands behind you in every mirror of the house. Holy shit who was this guy? He was a little older than you, died last year in the summertime. Each article painted a brutal picture of his death, speculating on how the doctor died but never comfirming anything. Only that he was dead when paramedics got there, the sight of his covered body being extracted from his home was one that would stick with you. His home. It was the same house you were living in. It’s possible your grandfather was renting it out. That’s probably why nobody ever knew about it - he wasn’t living there. You didn’t know when water started pooling in your eyes, you only realized them as they started falling down your cheeks. You didn’t even know him. You didn’t even know him but you felt like someone just sucker punched you and were about 60% sure your lunch was coming back up. Jesus.

There was no way you could tell your friends about this. The majority of your brain was pleading with you to rationalize this. Maybe you’d seen one of the articles before. Maybe your grandpa talked about him. Holy shit he had known your grandpa. Every individual thought you had was identifiable and that was far too overwhelming for your brain to handle. You signed out of the computer and went to go sit in your car. Could you even drive like this? Your hands were shaking so bad there was a good chance you’d crash the car before you got home. It’s twenty minutes, you thought. You had to go back. Staying away from the house any longer felt like a punishment. You can make it twenty minutes.

–

“No, no. Like I said it was just some old guy who wrote a book. No sign of my Spencer.” You were lying straight through your teeth. You figured it didn’t truly matter. If you sat here and told the entire story of finding exactly who you were looking for online, you think she’d have checked you into a facility.

“Maybe if you believe hard enough you can manifest him.”

“Wow you’re hilarious. Remind me again how I ever lived my life without such a humorous presence.”

“I question that same thing everyday, Y/n.” You could hear the smile embedded in her words.

“I’ll let you go. I know Dylan is probably waiting on you. Thanks for checking up on the Spencer chronicles.” You felt slightly bad. She was on her honeymoon currently, and instead of spending time with her new husband, she was listening to your stories of fraternizing with a ghost.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sure it’s weird as hell. Call me up if you need to, yeah? Hotel has unlimited calls so I can talk all night if you need to.” She was an angel in this world.

“Thanks, same goes here. If you get sick of your husband you know where to find me. Remember to use protection.”

“Alright, nevermind. You may suffer by yourself for all I care.” She laughed while she threatened you.

“Bye, honey. Love you.” You should have felt alone, but you never did. He was most likely here with you.

The exhaustion had well and truly crept up on you. You planned on getting home and calling your friend immediately, but you ended up needing a good few hours to cry and pace around the house. You weren’t scared - it was essentially the opposite. The complete lack of fear bred so much confusion that you didn’t know how to cope with the amount of frustration on your shoulders. You paced the house hoping to find him. You wanted to be near him. You harbored the immature hope that knowing who he was would grant you the ability to see him. Did you even know who he was? He was a doctor, an agent, but who was he to you? Is that what you needed to know in order to see him?

Now, sitting on your bed, you felt like you’d been through the ringer. The mental gymnastics of the day weighing heavily on your body. You needed to go to sleep. You wanted to go to sleep. In the last week or so you’d noticed a certain excitement regarding the promise of another tale, another dream. They were so extravagant, not even in the details of them, just in the consistency of pure emotion. You could have been fighting dragons or sitting on the porch in rocking chairs. If he was by your side, there was always this certain euphoria surrounding the two of you. A feeling reserved just for you and him. God you missed him.

–

You woke up slowly to a familiar bed beneath you, this was your house. The window was open, curtains blowing cautiously as the mild chill of the Fall breeze wafted in and dusted over your collarbones. It wasn’t this cold last night. You felt the breeze again on your whole body, and realized you were lying naked on top of the ruffled comforter. Had he pulled the blanket off you?

“Are you cold? I didn’t think to shut the window when I got up. I was kind of rushing to get my stuff.” You noticed then that he was sat behind a canvas, angled so he could glance between you and the task at hand with ease. He noticed you furrow your eyebrows, and even managed to catch the minuscule tense of your muscles as you prepared to sit up.

“Stay still for me, honey. I’m almost done.” He was adding feather-light brushstrokes to the piece, a finishing touch of his you now recognized from watching him paint so much.

“This isn’t a very good pose, Spence. You know I’m not the most photogenic.” You referred to the fact you had been sleeping as he painted, limbs not organized and environment chaotic. Notoriously unfavored things by the man. Maybe he was hoping to capture a candid version of you.

He exhaled a laugh. “How rich coming from you.” His lips quirked upward as he continued adding touch-ups to his art. “Something about you this morning…I don’t know.” He shook his head like he was talking to himself rather than you. “You just looked…mesmerizing.” He shrugged, brushing off the sentiment. “Felt wrong to just look at you.”

Dumbfounded was the only word you could think to describe yourself. He’d painted you before, mainly from the neck up for practice with faces, but this was different terrain. You were nervous to see the piece. You thought of your hips, your stomach, your legs. A silhouette he’d sworn time and time again was worthy of worship. One he wanted to treasure. You hoped you’d see a glimpse of yourself through his lens, hoped all that adoration would show on the canvas. Once he was finished with it, he turned it so you could see. It was breathtaking. His talent never failed to leave you speechless.

“I feel like I should be paying for this.” You joked, but still felt as though something should be given in return. He stood from his stool and joined you on the bed.

“I assure you, I’m well compensated.” Your face ran hot. “Can I hang it?”

“Spence, I’m naked-”

“Not downstairs, Y/n.” He chuckled. “I’d put it there.” He nodded to a vacant wall space on the right side of the room, entirely visible from his side of the bed.

“You want me watching you sleep, Reid?”

He grinned at you, shaking his head slightly at your remark. “Just wanna be able to see you.” He held your eyes. “I’m hoping looking at you before I go to sleep will give me good dreams.” You hummed in sarcastic agreement, your gaze falling soft a moment later.

“You can if you want to.” He looked relieved.

“Thanks, honey.” He looked stunning in the morning light. The sun hadn’t risen too long ago, and he was only covered partially by a pair of joggers. He was practically luminous, the bare skin of his chest looking golden in the sunlight. You stuck your hands out to feel him, and you felt as though you were trying to touch heaven itself. He leaned down to be closer to you, he always said you felt magnetic.

“You should let me paint you like this more often.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm”

And, just like before, you could breathe again when he kissed you. Truly breathe. It was times like these when he felt like your oxygen, like pulling away should be sin. Lord knows you would suffer any version of Hell for him.

–

Your frustration seemed to have doubled in your sleep. Two am. You were gonna find that fucking painting. It wasn’t in the spot he left it - you would have noticed a giant painting of yourself naked on the walls, but you double checked to be sure. You threw up every light switch you came across and started scavenging through the upstairs. There was a certain tug in your body - when you didn’t find it in a room, you knew it wasn’t there, something internal telling you to look elsewhere. It was only when you were halfway done with the downstairs raid that you remembered the storage room. You’d found it when you first moved in, a room full of dust and white tarps covering furniture and other indecipherable shapes. It had to be in there.

You wrecked havoc on the tiny room. Tearing off layers of fabric quickly, leaving little thought to where you were throwing them, completely tunnel visioned on finding the painting. You came across a covered square the same size as the canvas had been. It was coated in so much dust that the covering looked ancient, and you were begging any conceivable being to be merciful, to let you have at least this if you couldn’t have him. You unveiled the shape to find the same vibrant pigments you’d seen just hours before. It was you, draped over the comforter and basking in the hue of the morning. This was it, you thought. Holy shit this is real. You had no grounds to deny this anymore. Spencer was a real guy, clearly he’d died in this house and clearly the two of you had lived enough lives together to fill months of sleepless nights with.

What did this mean for you? Were you a clone? Were you and Spencer both clones? Were you living in a simulated reality and all of this was actually a ruse calculated to induce reactions in the brain that could then be studied? Oh my god - were you a ghost too? Had you died and were now stuck in some form of purgatory?

You felt sick with it. You didn’t know you were capable of bearing such intense metaphorical weight. You needed to see him. Maybe if you went to sleep, you would realize you were having a dream and could figure some things out. That’s so stupid. You mentally scolded yourself for even thinking of such a dumb idea. You needed to speak with him. You needed him to tell you what was going on. Of course him and everyone in your life who could have known him were six feet deep. A seance, maybe? Perhaps just buy a ouija board and wing it. You’d seen the most of him when you were asleep, that had to be the key to figuring this out. Please dear god let it be the key to figuring this out. You took the painting and headed back upstairs. Maybe it could serve as a medium, you thought. That’s a thing, right?

You don’t think your bed had ever seemed so uninviting. You remember how grateful you’d been to finally sleep on your first day here. It was a pain in the ass hauling a mattress up a spiral staircase and the moment you realized you were done was a relief to say the least. Now you stared at it and your mouth ran dry. What if this didn’t work? What did you even want to happen? Were you going to rummage through your dreams and play detective to piece together what might have happened in your past? No degree of mental antagonizing could push you off course by now. He was real. You know he’d been a real man, and surely the painting of you meant you’d known him as something other than a ghost. You were simply praying this would work out how you wanted. You needed a semblance of closure, even just a small one.

–

The room was dark, making you double check if you opened your eyes in the first place. You hadn’t had a dream. This was the first time in months you had fallen asleep and woken up without having lived a different life. You felt tears forming in your eyes. The disappointment you felt was so immeasurable that your brain practically short circuited trying to find a way to process it. You knew it was a long shot for everything to be fixed overnight, but you’d expected something. Like he was reading your mind, the bed dipped down, him now occupying the space next to you in bed.

You were worried your head might fall off your neck with how quickly you turned to look at him. The moonlight came beaming in through the window, like she was your secret ally, giving you enough light to finish your battle. It lit him up, practically shining through him like it would a crystal. He was ethereal. You stared into the same brown eyes you’d been looking into for months and felt your resolve give way from within you. You could have looked at him forever, you wanted to look at him forever, but you crashed hard into him. You would have fused your soul to his at that very moment if you were able to. Nobody had ever drawn out such a reaction - you needed to feel him. It was the proof you had been begging for, he was here, he was tangible. You could finally know what it all meant.

You felt his chest jolt as he chuckled at you. “I missed you.” You could hear the smile in his words.

Choking on a sob, you spoke your response so quietly you could barely hear yourself. “What the fuck is going on?” You knew tears were probably soaking through his shirt but he just held you against him. “Please tell me you know what’s happening.” You were muttering your words quickly, sharply inhaling between your sentences as air refused to stay in your lungs.

He ran his hand up and down the length of your forearm, a motion so familiar and so comforting you’re sure your knees would have buckled if you weren’t lying down. “Just relax, honey. I can explain everything, ok? I just need you to breathe right now.”

It was hard to maintain your oxygen through the sobs begging to get out of your chest but you were nothing if not stubborn. You needed an explanation. If that was his condition then so be it. You took a deep breath, regaining your ability to inhale and exhale at a regular pace. You could see the room better now having been awake in the dark for a while, so you tried to focus on anything that might help. The painting. You stared holes into that thing and forced your breathing to even out.

“I was really proud of that one.” His words held an instinctual twinge of fondness, still smiling as he spoke. Like now that he had you, he could describe any horror of the world and still be happy with you in his arms. He looked back at you, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “You seem to get prettier with every lifetime.”

Even as the overwhelming confusion wrecked your brain, your body was completely in tune with him. Warmth seemed to spring to life in your stomach, his words bypassing any guards you had to root themselves within you. He regarded the situation so lightly, so casually. He wasn’t worried about slipping away, or running out of time. He would have given you a decade to calm down if you needed it. He seemed content with just calling you pretty, as though he’d waited a century to touch you again.

“My dreams, were they -” You paused. You didn’t even know what to ask him. “What were my dreams?” Were they real?

He took a moment to just stare at you. The smallest, knowing smile on his face and a look of pure adoration in his eyes. He knew what you were asking. “They were us.” Fucking obviously. If you were any more on the edge of your seat you would fall off. “All the lives we’ve lived together.” Jesus.

“How long ago-”

“Two thousand years, 5 months, 27 days, and-” he leaned up slightly to check the clock “14 hours.” Giving you the cutest tight-lipped smile when he finished talking like he didn’t just say you’d been in love for two millennia.

“So we’re soul mates?”

“Essentially.” He nodded. ‘Soulmates’ was close enough.

“But - is everyone like this, then?” Did all your friends have this too? Everyone in the world? “Everyone has a soulmate?” Your friend’s on her honeymoon right now.

He laughed a little and shook his head. “No, no. It’s just us.” What was so special about the two of you? “For all I know of at least. Your uh…your husband-” He hesitated for just a second, fingers digging into your skin just a fraction harder. “He found out about us. Had his mother cast a spell. He thought he was punishing us, I think. Figured we’d get sick of it after a while. Poor guy, all he did was condemn us to eternity together.” He held no genuine pity for the guy, more amusement at the thought of his plan actually succeeding.

“How long have you been here?” You hadn’t bothered to check when the articles were from, too busy trying to keep your head on straight to look for the publication date.

“A year.” A year of him alone in this house. God, you couldn’t even imagine. “I started having dreams of you. Everyday I just felt, like, something pulling me away from where I was. I knew your grandfather from an old case I worked and everything just seemed to happen.” He reminisced fondly, like the memory didn’t hurt him. “I don’t even really know how I died. I just remember having a party one night, and how the hallway looked from the bottom of the stairs.” Oh my God the warm spot.

“When you moved in I was thrilled but - fuck, honey, it was torture.” He delivered the line like it was a joke but his eyes were watering. “I couldn’t talk to you, I couldn’t help you - I couldn’t fucking touch you and it was unbearable.” His hands hadn’t left you since you woke up. Making up for lost time, you guessed. There was one question you were brutally aware of, something that persisted in your head even as you tried to enjoy the moment.

“Why can I see you now, then?”

He sighed, so full of devastation that it was clear he’d been preparing for this. “You can’t.”

“What?”

“You’ve seen all our lives, Y/n. This is the only one left.” He was so delicate in his explanations. His palms soothing over your face as if trying to physically soothe the sting of his words.

“Wait what does that-” What was he talking about? “I don’t understand.”

“To be honest, I don’t really understand it either.” He exhaled at his own ignorance, the words unfamiliar in his mouth. “For the first time, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when you wake up.”

“Wake up? What do you mean wake up - Spence I’m awake.” You held onto his wrist that was near your face for emphasis, his hand still caressing your face. “I’m awake.”

His eyes were definitely watering. “No, Y/n, you’re not.”

“Spencer.” You’d never said it so sadly before. Tears were in your eyes for the second time that night. You would have done anything to carve this moment into stone. Sit here in his arms until time forced you into your next life.

“It’s ok, honey.” He was always reassuring, always safe. “We’ve done this for two thousand years, Y/n. You’re bound to get a little unlucky sometimes.” His optimism in the face of such a crushing development almost made you sick. Some things never change. “I finally have you back, alright? Just lay with me for a while. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ve got plenty more lives to live.”

You halted the tears in your eyes, sniffling once to reign yourself in. “Ok.” You laughed, a little tearfully, and kissed him with all the love you had to give.

Plenty more lives to live.

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