#really what it was is that I did take about fifteen seconds while she was talking to figure out if knowing this was represented in a book

[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟘

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere, claim them as your own, or use them without my permission. Thank you for your support! ☾.

While Jude and Kate were in hiding, there was a bit of a commotion at the palace.

Ring: ….It’s kind of loud.

Nica: Rumor has it that some important Privy Council member was murdered at a military base..

Ring: By whom?

Nica: Couldn’t say.

Nica shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the book he was holding.

Nica: It’s been a while since I’ve read this.

Nica: Hey, Ring. Do you know the tale of Sleeping Beauty?

Ring: Not really.

Nica: Then I’ll tell you.

Nica turns to the first page and starts to read Sleeping Beauty.

Nica: The thirteenth fairy was angry because she wasn’t invited to the princess’s birthday banquet, so she placed a curse on the princess.

Nica: "In the princess's fifteenth year she shall prick herself with a spindle and fall over dead."

I am directly quoting directly from Grimm Bros. 1857 version of the tale, since Nica is citing the fairytale directly.

Nica: The twelfth fairy who still hadn’t given her gift, quickly used a spell to weaken the curse.

Nica: "It shall not be her death. The princess will only fall into a hundred-year deep sleep.”

Nica’s line is actually written as: "She will not die when she turns fifteen, but will instead fall into a deep sleep." The part about turning 15 is not a part of this version nor any of the available versions of fairytale’s text.

Nica: Now, here’s the question—

Nica: Why did the thirteenth fairy curse the princess?

At the unexpected query, Ring stares back at the same colored eyes and blinks.

Ring: Huh? Umm….because she felt lonely for being left out?

Ring: No, maybe she held a grudge against the princess?

Ring: …..Sorry, I don’t know the answer.

Nica: That’s the right answer.

Ring: Huh?

Nica: The fairytale doesn’t tell us what the thirteenth fairy was really thinking.

Nica: Maybe, the things that are truly important are the ones hidden deep within the forest.

Nica: ….So, what will the robin do?

[Transitions to the train station]

Jude and I somehow managed to get out of the military base through the forest, and ran into the city…..

At any rate, we went to the station to get out of London and lay low.

The city is already waking up and steam from the black train is rising into the sky.

Kate: Jude, let’s get on that one!

We boarded the second-class car as the train was about to depart, and were finally able to catch our breath once we found a seat.

Kate: We aren’t being followed are we?

Jude: Nah, we dodged ‘em all.

Kate: ….Good.

Once the train started moving, and the station disappeared from view, I removed the agreement from my garter belt.

Kate: Jude. This is the contract between the Privy Council and the Army.

Kate: If we reveal this, it’ll clear your name.

Jude looked down at the contract for a moment…..

Jude: Why?

He looked up again and fixed his gaze on me.

Jude: Don’t make no sense why you’d go so far, no matter how good ya are.

Kate: That’s true. Well, there’s lots of reasons, but the main reason’s because…..

I stare back at the amethyst-hued eyes that captivate me.

Kate: I didn’t want your promise to be tarnished that way.

Jude: ………..

Jude didn’t laugh at what I said or make fun of me.

Kate: So, please take this.

I forcefully press the contract against Jude’s chest.

Kate: I’d like to take that back to Victor immediately, but it’s too dangerous to return to London right now.

(If we’re apprehended and the contract’s taken away, then it would all be pointless.)

Jude: We’ll hafta bide our time till the heat dies down.

Kate: Yes. Fortunately, we’re getting further and further from London.

When I look outside the train’s window, the scenery soon transitions to a peaceful rural landscape.

(I don’t think I’ve seen a view like this in a while….)

Kate: ….Haha.

Jude: What’cha laughin’ at?

Kate: It’s know it’s inappropriate, but it’s exciting. It’s like I’m going on a little trip.

There’s tons of things that need to be given thought, and a lot that needs to be resolved.

Even if Jude is found innocent of missile development, the fact remains that he murdered a privy council member.

(….But for now)

Is it selfish of me to want to savor the fact that Jude is in front of me like this?

At that moment, a whistle echoes across the endless sky.

When the train stopped to pick up new passengers, a flower vendor jumped aboard carrying flowers.

Flower Boy: How about some very beautiful flowers?…..Oh!

The flower boy’s purse fell from his waist, and coins scattered on the floor.

(Oh no!)

I quickly got up and helped the boy pick up his money.

Kate: One, two, three….is that all? Oh, there’s one here too.

Kate: Watch your step, and pardon me..…Well, that looks like all of them.

I crawled onto the floor, reached under the seat and handed the money I collected over to the boy….

Jude: …………

Flower Boy: Has anyone ever called you a softie?

Kate: A what? Well, I guess people have called me a damned nobody.

I chuckle wryly as I recall the phrases I’ve heard quite a bit recently, and the boy lets out a small gush of laughter.

Flower Boy: I don’t get it, but ya helped me, so thanks…..

Kate: My pleasure.

When I tried to return to my seat….

Flower Boy: Hey, Miss Damned-Nobody. I’ll tell you something nice as a thanks for helping me.

"Miss Damned-Nobody," while kanji for damn, and nobody are being used, along with "-san." This is a definite creative liberty taken, and she may be called something else in the official.

Kate: Something nice?

As I tilted my head, the boy leaned in and whispered something into my ear. The moment I heard it, my eyes widened.

Kate: Jude!

Jude: ….What is it?

[Transitions to a town at night]

Jude and I get off the train and go to a town whose name I don’t even know.

The flower boy told me that tonight was the harvest festival in this small seaside town.

Kate: Wow, you can see the ocean!

Jude: Ain’t nothin’ new. Ya saw it durin’ the fireworks show.

Kate: Jude, there’s food stalls lined up. Now that I think about it, we haven’t eaten anything since we escaped. Aren’t you hungry?

Jude: Yer not listenin’ t’me.

Kate: Never mind that, let’s go.

And so, I forcefully dragged Jude to the center of town.

The town’s bustling atmosphere from the harvest festival definitely distracts me from my pounding heart.

Kate: Look Jude, they’re playing a game over there where you have to guess the weight of the pumpkin!

Jude: If yer interested, then ya should go do it.

Kate: The prize is that you can eat at any of the food stalls for free. That’ll save money on dinner.

Jude: Whadda greedy princess ya are, jumpin’ at such a cheap reward.

Kate: Hey!

Jude snorted and then headed towards the booths where the games were being held.

Jude: So, ya comin’?

Kate: You’re going too?

Jude: Just tryin’ to test my skills.

Kate: Heehee.

Jude: What’cha gigglin’ fer?

Kate: Jude, are you maybe having fun?

Jude: The hell I am.

But his profile seemed softer than usual in the festival lights, and feeling a warmth run through my chest….I hurried after Jude.

I had so much fun that night, that it felt like a dream.

Jude guessed with the weight of the pumpkin correctly, and we enjoyed some delicious food at the stalls.

When I got tired from walking and sat down on a bench, the man who had been sleeping on the bench next to me suddenly woke up.

Drunk Man: Damn, I was feeling so good that I passed out…..and my wife told me to be home by 8:00 p.m.!

Drunk Man: Does anyone have the time?

Kate: I have a watch.

I take out the pocket watch and tell him the time. The man thanks me and then quickly heads home.

Jude: That…

When I looked up, Jude was looking at the pocket watch in my hand.

Kate: Oh, a soldier had this in their possession, so I quickly took it back.

Kate: This belongs to you, doesn’t it Jude? I’ll give it back to you.

Jude: It’s yers.

Kate: ….What?

I was so surprised that my mouth was gaping.

Jude: What’s with that dumb look?

Jude: Ya were eyein’ my pocket watch like ya aching fer it before.

Jude: Did it ‘cause if ya nicked one from someone else, it’d be pain.

Kate: I wouldn’t steal anything…..

Kate: But….I’m happy, thank you.

(Whatever the reason, it’s the first gift I’ve ever gotten from Jude.)

(….I’ll cherish it forever.)

When I held the watch to my ear, I can hear the seconds hand ticking away.

All around me were the voices of happy couples and friends echoing, but all I could only see Jude, who was next to me.

Standing here in an unfamiliar town, it feels like we're all alone in the world.

(….I want to stay next to Jude like this forever.)

Kate: Jude.

Jude: What?

Kate: We don’t know what will happen to us in the future. I don’t know where we’re headed, or how we’ll end up.

Kate: I don’t know anything, but I can say this for certain….

Kate: ….I’ll always be by your side.

Jude: ……….

(I’ll tell you that again and again.)

(Until you feel it Jude…..)

Kate: There’s no point in trying to leave. I’ve already stolen something, so I’m full-blown bad guy now.

Kate: This pocket watch is proof of my complicity—

Jude: ……….

The eyes staring at me contort with displeasure.

Kate: …..Jude……?

Jude: ……Ya fool.

Jude: Bad guys don’t help flower boys who lost their money.

Jude: If some drunk asks fer the time, they don’t politely tell ‘em.

Jude: Further….

Jude pinches my cheek.

Jude: A bad person wouldn’t smile like this.

Kate: Ju…Jude…

Jude: What complicity. Just how bad are yer tastes.

Jude: …Yer…….

Jude: Too bright fer me…..

As I gazed at him, I felt a tight pain in my chest…..

While staring back at him, unable to say a thing, Jude lifts the one corner of his lips.

Jude: Right, ‘nough ‘o this. This time I’m cancelling the contract.

(What now—)

Jude: Don’t want anythin’ t’do with ya anymore. Don’t care what’cha do, just get outta my sight.

How many times have I been pushed away?

Where did I go wrong, and what did I do wrong?

Kate: Why……this is….you said a unilateral termination of the contract was invalid!

Kate: No, Jude. I’m staying with you—

Jude: …..Kate.

His fingers touch my forehead.

(—Huh.)

My vision was filled with him, and he just smiled sadly.

Jude: Thought it was stupid, tryin’ to find somethin’ to like ‘bout me, but….

Jude: It wasn’t so bad bein’ liked, regardless o’ gains ‘n losses.

I feel a sudden poke on my forehead.

(Oh….)

My consciousness is fading.

His ability envelops me in an unexpected warmth.

It's like falling asleep with a comfortable tiredness……

(I don’t want to……I don’t wa….)

But….Jude’s face became blurry, and I was instantly swallowed up by darkness.

Jude: —Good night, princess.

—That gentle voice was the last thing I heard.

[Transitions to an Inn]

My consciousness crawls out of the darkness and back into the light.

(….Where am…)

Despite my waking up, nothing around me looked a familiar.

In the middle of my bewilderment of the situation, I heard the door of the room open, and a stout red-haired woman entered.

Innkeeper: Oh, you’re finally awake! How do you feel, don’t push yourself now.

Kate: How do I feel? Um…..why am I here?

Kate: Do you know where that mean-looking guy is?

When I asked about the missing Jude, the woman laughed as if she suddenly remembered something.

Innkeeper: Mean-looking…..Your older brother is right intimidating.

Kate: Huh….?

(Older brother?)

I was confused, but the woman who happened to be the owner of the inn explained everything.

Last night, Jude knocked on the inn’s door while carrying me on his back.

“This is my sister. She’s an ill noblewoman.”

“I’ve brought her from London, to take in the clean seaside air and recover.”

And with that, he left me here…..

Innkeeper: I was paid a large sum of money for you to recuperate her for a month.

Innkeeper: It’s a lovely town to convalesce in.

Innkeeper: Take your time and stretch your wings, Lady Kate. Now, I’m going to do some shopping, so call me if you need anything.

Kate: What, uh….um!

Innkeeper: Oh, by the way. That suitcase over there is yours.

After saying this, the proprietress tapped her chest heartily, as if to say, "Leaving everything to me.”

And after she left me alone, I turned my attention to the luggage that was placed against the wall.

Kate: …..A suitcase?

I sat on the beach behind the inn with a suitcase I didn't recognize.

I felt like I could tell what was inside without even opening it.

Kate: ………..

I placed my hand on the latch, gently opened it and found money, a cheque, and—

───

Y’should stay in this town far from London, till things are under control. They know yer face. Idle away there till the heat dies down. Oh, ‘n don’t bother returnin’ to Crown after it’s all squared away. By that time, yer one month contract as fairytale keeper will’ve long past.

I’m officially relievin’ ya of yer duties.

───

It’s nothing more than a list of facts, written in a familiar script.

(That’s all….)

Instantly, a giant tear drop falls onto the note.

(…..Ah, this all over again)

Even though I’m obtuse, I know why he’s pushing me away.

This is my final chance to escape the world of wickedness, and go back to where I came from.

Kate: …..This is the worst.

Kate: THIS IS THE WORST, THE WORST, THE WORST…!

I can’t believe he would ignore my wishes, put me to sleep and do whatever the hell he wants.

He’s an arrogant, ruthless, intolerable scoundrel.

(……But even so)

Jude: It wasn’t so bad bein’ liked, regardless o’ gains ‘n losses.

(I already know how sad you look.)

(And that you’re a compassionate person who believes love is a curse.)

(Therefore—)

I’ll never forgive you for running off after what you said.

[Main Story Master List] [Mad Love End] [Blind Love End]

Chapter 20........I was thinking about Jude's 2nd anniversary story the entire time.

If you wish to be added (and 18+ YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

Tags: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @barellorkilaam @goustmilk @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

[phantomchick]

Just a few more Jason Todd-centric fic recs for the road...

Asymmetrical Warfare by orangesky37

An ~UtRH AU that follows the events of A Death in the Family and diverges from canon at some point during Lost Days (pre that scene, which is most definitely not a part of this AU). Survival Instincts starts out after Jason has been in Gotham for several months. His plans to establish himself in the Gotham underworld have run into some snags and his motivations are in flux. Works are ordered chronologically. If you are new to the series, I'd recommend reading all previously published parts in chronological order and then new parts/chapters in the order they are posted.

A League of Their Own by GoAwayOlivia

He doesn’t know why she’s here, why she chose to come to Gotham, to kill the Joker, or pull him out of the rubble, but she did. She stepped forward and crushed Jason’s most horrifying nightmare under her foot like it was nothing. The Joker is gone. Dead and gone forever. And now Jason will follow Talia to the ends of the earth. “Okay,” he tells her. ***** In the wake of the fallout of his final confrontation with Batman and the Joker, Jason Todd tries to move forward. After careful consideration, Talia decides to help him, and maybe herself while she's at it. Canon divergence post Under the Red Hood.

Celestial Recalibration by HappyWiggleTime

After having a talk with Talia, Jason recalibrates his plans. Kill the Joker? Yes, obviously. Fix Gotham's wealth disparity? What the hell, why not? This new goal combined with his nosy siblings leads him back to the family sooner than he would’ve liked.

The Penny Drops, The Penny Dreads by Batbirdies

Jason’s background as a victim of abuse and childhood homelessness means it’s hard for him to trust, and to ask for things. After only a couple months in the manor, he still isn’t sure about Bruce Wayne. ___ When you come from nothing, it’s hard to adjust to having everything.

the living sea of waking dreams by r_astra

The telepath flips through Jason’s memories like cards in a Rolodex, rooting around for every terrible thing that’s ever happened to him. Jason tries fighting it, tries bolstering his will into mental walls like Bruce taught him. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t do anything. The second that hands press against Jason’s face, he’s gone. He’s wherever he wants him, whether that’s kneeling beside his mom’s cooling corpse or shivering through a cold winter night on the street or cringing away from the jingle of a belt being unbuckled. It’s not like remembering. It’s not like a nightmare. It’s like he’s there. It’s like he’s living it all over again, all the pain and fear and grief just as strong as the day it happened.

The Hellblazer's Apprentice by Blue_lotus

If there are two things Jason knew for a fact that Batman hated, it's magic and John Constantine. Both were unpredictable and often dredged up chaos whenever they were present. So when Jason runs into Constantine while on his murder training world tour, he realized he could kill two birds with one stone. Piss off Batman and learn magic to use against him? He'd be an idiot not to take that opportunity.

When Grownups Fail to Adult by NerdyLibrarian

What happens when Jason's brothers want to know why he's upset with the JLA? Jason's explanation of his side of the story, along with ways the hero community as a whole could make simple changes to protect their kids, might just change everything.

Echoes of Future Past by orangesky37

Jason is fifteen and dying, choking on smoke in a warehouse. Jason is sixteen and buried, clawing his way desperately to freedom. Jason is seventeen and drowning, waking up to green fire. Jason is nineteen and dying for the second time, bleeding out to the sound of laughter in an abandoned apartment building. Jason is sixteen and six feet beneath the earth again. But this time, when he wakes up he’s in a hospital bed, and he’s not alone. Jim Gordon, meanwhile, would really like to know what the hell is going on in his city this time.

[sassysnowperson]

For anyone wondering what it's like to be a therapist who is also a Fan of Things, one of my clients shared that labyrinth walking was a meditative practice for her and I DID have to work very hard not to say, "Oh yes, like my good buddy Thara Celehar from Witness for the Dead, it really did help him!"

I pulled it together and said something professional but whew, close one!

[formulakracing]

"my hero" - m.v.

pairing: social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count: idek tbh (i’m posting this on my lunch break hehe)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, max in bf mode, long distance couple, cursing here and there, mentions of mental health, mentions of mental health disorders, mentions of physical health, yada, yada, yada

a/n: i know i said i was working on requests but this idea would not leave my brain all day. i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to write it. (it's def a little self-indulgent) i hope y'all enjoy!

"ah! there you are. i can see you now!""

a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your lips forming a wide smile, "hi baby, how are you?"

he shrugs, the image distorted for about a millisecond. he comes into frame once again, slightly pixelated. however, you can make out the sleepy grin plastered across his face, and the twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera.

max verstappen, three time world driver’s champion, is on facetime with you, donned in nothing but a black cotton tee and his boxers. you can tell from the background that he’s in his motorhome, settled in his room.

his hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up haphazardly. he more than likely just got out of the shower, as the fabric of the tee clung to his toned frame. underneath his eyes were two faint circles, the skin slightly puffy.

yet, here he was, calling you at god knew what hour just to hear the sound of your voice.

"tired. very fucking tired."

"i can imagine so," you nod, typing along at your laptop, "what time is it there?"

he hums, leaning over his phone, "it's about eleven thirty?"

"max!" your eyes widen, "you need to get some sleep. it's qualifying tomorrow!"

"and?" he counters, arching a brow, "i wanted to hear how your day went. from your messages, it seemed like it was quite eventful."

"i'm just wrapping up my notes now," you exhale, your shoulders slumping slightly, "it was a long day."

"i can imagine my baby," he coos, settling underneath the covers, "tell me all about it."

"i can assure you being a case worker is not nearly as riveting as a formula one driver," you snort, shaking your head, "you go first."

"nope," he was not budging, his attention still fixated solely on you, "tell me about your day, and then i'll share about mine. it's only fair."

"well," you wrinkle your nose, glancing over the open document on your laptop screen, "my day started with one of my clients experiencing a small crisis. she was without food so she called me, asking if i could take her to the nearest pantry. while i was with her, another client of mine called asking if i could transport him to his appointment.

i probably could have, but he reached out to me only fifteen minutes before his appointment time. i received my new staffing form today. i have a couple of clients who are in need of housing so i had to make some calls to some local agencies."

"and how did that go?" you can't help but feel heat flourishing into your cheeks at the intrigue laced in his tone, "were you able to make some progress?"

"not really," you inhale sharply, "housing is really difficult to find right now. it's sort of like when your tires are giving out, but you need them to last a few more laps. you have to remain hopeful so that you can keep pushing."

“i like that analogy,” he fights a yawn, but continues regardless, “that’s a good one. i’m going to use that.”

“as long as you credit me,” you muse, clicking your mousepad as you finalize your note, “how was practice today?”

“so-so,” he chirps, “i missed you a lot today. thought about you nearly every second of the practice session. you’re flying out next week, right?”

you nod, shutting your laptop, “yes. i’ll be leaving wednesday evening and catching a late flight. hopefully when i land, there will be this insanely handsome dutch man waiting for me.”

“is that right?” max’s dimples appear, causing your heart to skip a beat, “i’m hoping that my good luck charm arrives safe and sound. i can’t wait to see her.”

“counting down the minutes are we?”

“you have no idea,” carefully, he plucks his phone from his makeshift stand, bringing you closer into the bed with him, “will you stay on till i fall asleep?”

at his request, there’s a tug at your heart. fuck, if only you were with him. then he would have been able to lay on you until he dozed off. his head would have been snuggled into uour collabone, your hands tangled in his hair, playing with it as his chest steadily rose and fell.

if only you were there. if only you were an influencer or a model. if only you could take work with you, dropping everything to fly all over the world. if only you weren’t separated by time zones, where you had to carefully coordinate facetime calls.

if only you weren’t long distance, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like this.

if only.

“hey,” max’s voice is merely a whisper, “are you okay?”

your lower lip trembles, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. there’s a choking sound, as you attempt to suppress a sob.

yet, it was too late. they were streaming down your cheeks now, your hands instinctively shielding your face.

“baby,” max murmurs, “what’s going on?”

“this shit sucks,” you shake your head, the words strained, “i hate that i’m not with you right now. i hate that we’re long distance. i hate that i have to stay here and—“

“but your clients need you,” his tone is delicate, “you’re the one person they can count on when everything else is going to shit. they need you like i need you. i can tell you had a long day baby, but i’m here. i’m here for you, no matter what.”

“i-i love you,” you manage to sputter out, wiping your cheeks, “i love you, max.”

“and i love you more than you’ll ever know,” in the frame, a pillow is held against his chest, “i’m even cuddling this pillow right now pretending that it’s you.”

“i can’t believe you fell in love with some plain girl from the states,” you sigh, resting your head against the couch cushion, “out of everyone in the world, you happened to fall in love with me.”

“you’re not just any girl from the states,” for a moment, you’re shocked at the firmness in his tone, “you’re my girl. it takes someone special to do what you do. you’re my hero baby. i aspire to be as strong as you.”

“i love you,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile, “am i really your hero?”

“of course,” it doesn’t even take him a second to respond, “like i said, you’re the strongest person i know. you inspire me.”

“i can’t wait to see you,” you murmur, taking note of the way his eyes were drooping, “i’ll stay on till you sleep, my love. it seems like you need it.”

“hey,” one eye opens, barely a slit, “i know this shit sucks right now, but we’ll make it. okay? one day you’ll get to come home to me and tell me all about your day rather than calling. it’ll be worth it. i promise.”

“i hope so. i love you, maxie. sleep well, my love. i’ll be there before you know it.”

“try to have a good evening,” you could barely make out the statement, as he was beginning to doze off, “just end the call when i’m asleep. i’ll message you in the morning.”

“i’ll be here,” opening your laptop, you prop it against the screen, “goodnight, maxie.”

“night, night, baby.”

as sleep takes a hold of the dutch driver, you remain on the call, opening youtube. cautiously, you click on one of your favorite videos. it’s a montage of all of max’s wins, starting from the 2016 spanish grand prix.

the video begins to play, the volume carefully adjusted so that it doesn’t wake him.

as your gaze shifts to your phone once again, you can’t help but hear his words ringing in your ears.

one day this would all be worth it.

and one day, max verstappen would be able to be with his hero.

every single day for the rest of his life.

[kwilquib]

On the Cliff,

Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

Park Jiwon (Fromis_9) X Male reader

Word Count: 11.7k+

a/n: Few days after the 1st part.

The steady hum of the office barely registers in your mind—the clatter of keyboards, the muffled conversations, the occasional shrill ring of a phone. It’s all just background noise, drowned out by the thoughts you can’t seem to shake.

Jiwon.

You stare at the contract in front of you, the words blurring into meaningless lines of text. Your pen rests idle in your hand, tapping against the desk in an erratic rhythm. It’s been fifteen minutes, and you haven’t flipped a page.

She left.

Slipped away before the sun even rose, without a word, without a trace—except for the crumpled bills she left on the nightstand.

Your jaw tightens at the memory. Did she really think it was just a one-night thing? That she could simply walk away and pay it off like some meaningless transaction? The thought settles in your chest like a dull ache, an irritation you can't quite ignore.

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply.

You’re not the type to dwell on these things. And yet, here you are.

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sir,” comes a familiar voice, laced with just the right amount of exasperation. “If you’re done brooding dramatically, the board meeting is in thirty minutes. You know, the thing that actually pays your bills?”

You glance up to find Jihoon standing in the doorway, a stack of documents in his hands, the usual tired patience in his expression.

“Brooding?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t brood.”

Jihoon snorts, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “Right. And I’m quitting tomorrow.” He drops the files onto your desk with a dull thud. “You’ve been staring at that page like it’s about to confess its undying love for you. Which, by the way, is kind of unsettling.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “I was thinking.”

“Oh, I can tell. Must be exhausting for you.” Jihoon crosses his arms, watching you closely. “Let me guess—woman trouble?”

You don’t answer, which only makes his grin widen.

“Called it. So, what’s her name?”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before muttering, “Park Jiwon.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows for a moment, then his eyes widen slightly in recognition. “Wait... Park Jiwon? As in Park Sangho’s daughter?”

The name sits on your tongue uncomfortably. “Park Sangho?”

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, Park Sangho. CEO of Park Conglomerate. Or what’s left of it. They’ve been struggling for a while now.” He pauses, eyeing you carefully. “And his daughter... well, there’s been talk about her getting married off to Director Kang.”

Your fingers tap against the desk. Kang. You know the name well enough—ruthless in business, worse with women. The kind of man who takes what he wants without a second thought.

Jihoon smirks. “Sounds like she dodged a bullet, running into you instead.”

You don’t laugh. If anything, the thought irritates you more. Jiwon thought she could slip away quietly, disappear before anyone noticed. Too bad she met you instead.

Reaching into your drawer, you pull out the grainy black-and-white photo—the one you got from the paparazzi before they had a chance to release it. You and Jiwon, walking into the hotel together.

You should have deleted it, like you always do. But this time, you didn’t.

You slide the photo across the desk. “Spread it.”

Jihoon blinks. “You serious? This’ll stir up a mess.”

“That’s the point.” Your voice is steady, calculated.

Jihoon gives you a long look before shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You watch him pick up the photo, your mind already working three steps ahead.

Jiwon didn’t know your name when she left.

But soon enough, she’d have no choice but to remember it.

She thought she could run.

But you’re not done with her yet.

A Few Days Later

You sit at your desk, staring at the glossy tablet in front of you. The bold headline screams back at you, accompanied by the grainy photo of you and Jiwon entering the hotel that night.

“Park Jiwon: Desperate Heiress or CEO Yoon’s Latest Fling?”

The article dances around the idea with just enough venom to sting. It paints Jiwon as a woman clinging to survival, her family’s struggling business hanging by a thread, subtly implying that she’s using you to climb her way back up.

You should have seen this coming. Hell, you did see it coming. You were the one who leaked the photo, after all. And yet, something about the way they talk about her—like she’s nothing more than a desperate opportunist—makes your jaw tighten.

Your grip on the tablet hardens before you toss it onto the desk, exhaling sharply.

The intercom buzz “Sir, your grandmother is here to see you—”.

You barely have time to let that information settle before your office door swings open without warning.

"Where are you?!"

You don't need to look up to know who it is. The sharp, authoritative voice—tinged with just enough warmth to remind you she still cares—belongs to only one person.

Your grandmother.

With Jihoon following after her.

"Do you ever knock?" you mutter, running a hand through your hair as she marches in, holding up the same tabloid you were just glaring at.

"I don't need to knock when my dear grandson's face is plastered all over the media with a young woman he's clearly trying to ruin!" she huffs, dropping the magazine onto your desk with a disapproving glare. "Care to explain, dear?"

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. "It’s just a photo. The media exaggerates everything, you know that."

Your grandmother eyes you sternly, lips pursed in that way that makes you feel like you're fifteen again, being scolded for skipping out on family dinners. "Don't play dumb with me, Dear. I taught you better than that."

Before you can offer another half-hearted excuse, her expression softens—just slightly—as she picks up the tablet and runs her fingers over Jiwon’s picture.

"This poor girl," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I remember Park Jiwon. Such a sweet child when I last saw her. Always so polite and thoughtful.” Her eyes flick back to you, sharp once more. “Unlike someone I know.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "I'm sure she’s doing just fine, Grandmother."

"Hmph," she scoffs. "Fine? With her father’s company sinking and now the press tarnishing her name?" She fixes you with a look that could cut through steel. "Tell me, dear. Did you even consider how this might affect her?"

You don't answer right away, which only makes her sigh in disappointment. "Of course you didn't. You're too busy playing your little power games to see what's right in front of you."

Your jaw tightens. "She left me, you know."

Your grandmother raises a delicate brow. "Oh, poor you. A woman left you for once in your life."

You grit your teeth. "That's not the point."

"No," she agrees, settling into the chair across from you. "The point is, you caused a scandal, and now the least you can do is take responsibility."

You arch a brow. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

She gives you a pointed look, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Marry her."

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, dear." Her tone is sweet, but there's steel beneath it. "You've already dragged her name through the mud. The decent thing to do would be to make an honest woman out of her."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "And let me guess, this has nothing to do with your constant nagging about settling down?"

"Of course it does," she says matter-of-factly, offering a saccharine smile. "But more importantly, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. She needs protection from vultures like Director Kang, and you..." She tilts her head. "You need someone who won’t let you get away with this nonsense anymore."

You exhale, pacing toward the window. Marry Jiwon? The idea should be absurd. You don’t do marriage, relationships, or anything that even remotely resembles commitment. And yet…

Your grandmother watches you closely, her voice softer now. "She's a good girl, Seojoon. And I have no doubt she can handle you."

You glance back at the photo on your desk. Jiwon, with her hesitant smile and those guarded eyes.

Maybe she could.

But claiming her—making her yours—wasn’t about saving her. It never was.

It was about something far more selfish.

You turn back to your grandmother, expression unreadable. "And if I refuse?"

She smiles knowingly. "Then I’ll do what I always do—make your life a living hell until you see reason."

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Of course you will."

"Good." She stands, smoothing out her coat with deliberate care. "Call her now. Arrange a meeting."

"Now?" You blink, surprised by her urgency.

Your grandmother gives you a pointed look. "Yes, now. Do you think I don't know you, dear?"

You lean back in your chair, stalling. "I don't even have her number."

She merely lifts a brow, unimpressed. "Then call her family."

Before you can protest, her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who straightens under the silent command. Without hesitation, he pulls out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. Within moments, he steps forward, presenting the device to you with an expectant expression.

The call screen stares back at you, one press away from dialing.

Park Conglomerate.

You glance between the phone and your grandmother, who offers you a sweet yet undeniably stern smile. "Go on, dear. I'm waiting."

You exhale slowly, your fingers hovering over the screen.

Jiwon thought she could leave quietly, slip away without a trace.

She was wrong.

Jiwon let out a tired sigh as she stepped into her bedroom, the weight of the day settling heavily on her shoulders. The soft click of the door behind her sealed her in the quiet sanctuary of her space, a brief moment of solitude she desperately needed.

She walked over to her desk, her movements slow and deliberate, fingers reaching up to remove the delicate earrings that adorned her ears. One by one, she placed them on the glass tray beside her scattered notes and half-empty coffee cups. The cool air brushed against her skin, but her mind was elsewhere.

No matter how much she tried to push it aside, the memories of that night refused to leave her mind. They clung to her like a second skin, vivid and unrelenting, replaying in her thoughts when she least expected it. She could still feel his touch—firm, demanding, yet oddly tender. The way his hands had roamed her body, possessive yet reverent, as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch of her. The heat of his lips tracing along her neck, the scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin, the way his breath had hitched when she shivered under his touch. It had been overwhelming, intoxicating, and she had been powerless to resist.

Her fingertips grazed the side of her neck absently, recalling the ghost of his touch. She could still feel the faint ache where he had marked her, the memory of his mouth on her skin sending a shiver down her spine. She shouldn’t be thinking about it, shouldn’t be replaying every stolen moment, but she was. It was as if he’d left an invisible mark that wouldn’t fade, a brand that lingered long after the night had ended.

She closed her eyes, and the images came flooding back—his body pressing against hers, the weight of him pinning her to the bed, the way his hips had moved with a rhythm that left her breathless. She could still feel the way he had filled her, the stretch and burn giving way to a pleasure so intense it had left her trembling. His voice, low and rough in her ear, murmuring words she could barely comprehend through the haze of desire. “Moan for me, Jiwon… let it all out.”

Her breath hitched as she remembered the way his hands had gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his touch both commanding and gentle. The way he had looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that had both terrified and thrilled her. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet so utterly desired. And when he had finally brought her to the edge, her body arching into his as she fell apart.

Even now, the memory of it made her pulse quicken, her skin flushing with heat. She could still feel the way his lips had claimed hers, the way his tongue had tangled with hers in a kiss that had left her dizzy. The way his hands had explored her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The way he had whispered her name, his voice rough with need, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

She shouldn’t be thinking about it. She shouldn’t be craving the feel of his hands on her skin, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the way he had made her feel so alive, so wanted. But she was. And no matter how hard she tried to push the memories away, they always came back, more vivid, more consuming than before. It was as if he had awakened something in her, something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing over her collarbone, and she could almost feel his lips following the same path, his breath hot against her skin. She bit her lip, her body betraying her as a flush of warmth spread through her. She shouldn’t be thinking about it. But she was. And she couldn’t stop.

It was just one night, she reminded herself, shaking her head as if to dispel the thoughts. A mistake.

She sighed, pulling her hair loose from its clip, letting the strands fall around her shoulders. Maybe some sleep would finally help clear her mind.

But just as she reached for her journal, a sudden, thunderous voice shattered the calm.

"JIWON!"

Her father’s voice, laced with pure, unrestrained rage, echoed through the house. The sound of her name being screamed like that sent a shiver down her spine. She barely had time to react before the heavy, relentless banging on her door followed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Open this door right now!" her father bellowed, his fists hammering against the wood with enough force to rattle it in its frame.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what had set him off this time, but deep down, she had a sinking feeling she already knew.

Swallowing hard, she took a step toward the door, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the handle.

"I said open it!" he roared again, the anger in his voice cutting through her hesitation like a knife.

Jiwon closed her eyes for a brief second, bracing herself for whatever storm was about to come crashing through that door. She inhaled shakily, steadying herself before unlocking it.

Before she could even turn the knob, the door swung open violently, slamming into her and making her stumble back.

“You fucking bitch!” Her father’s voice tore through the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

“Fa—Father…” Jiwon’s voice wavered as she tried to meet his eyes, but before she could—

Slap.

The force of his hand sent her head snapping to the side, a sharp sting blooming across her cheek.

"I raised you, and this is how you repay me?" His voice was a furious snarl. "I should have listened—I should have left you with your mother. Her filthy blood runs through you. Just like her, you're nothing but a disgrace."

Jiwon trembled, her vision blurring as tears welled in her eyes. Her mind struggled to catch up with what was happening, the shock paralyzing her.

“F-Father, wh—what? Wh-why?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear.

"Don't you dare pretend you don't know!" he roared, stepping closer, his grip seizing her wrist with crushing force. "I told you to be obedient, to marry Director Kang, and now you're out there sleeping with another man? Do you have any idea how this makes me look? How it tarnishes my company’s reputation?"

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over. “Father… I—I was mistaken, I—”

“Mistaken?!” He yanked her forward, dragging her across the entryway. “You're not my daughter anymore! You’ve humiliated me for the last time.”

“Please, Father, wait—” she sobbed, struggling against his iron grip, but he ignored her, dragging her toward the front door. The harsh fluorescent lighting above made everything feel even colder, emptier.

From the grand staircase, her stepmother watched with an unsettling calm, her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. She didn’t move, didn’t speak—just observed, as if this was nothing more than an inevitability she had been waiting for.

"You want to act like a whore? Then go and live like one!" he spat, throwing the door open and shoving her out onto the cold pavement outside. Jiwon staggered, barely catching herself before she fell.

Her father turned away without a second glance, already dismissing her existence. But her stepmother lingered.

Her stepmother stands before the gate, arms crossed, a thin smile tugging at her lips. For a moment, she simply observed, as if savoring the sight of Jiwon trembling.

Jiwon swallowed hard, lifting tearful eyes. “Mother, please…”

Her stepmother crouched gracefully, her touch deceptively gentle as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Jiwon’s ear. “Oh, Jiwon,” she sighed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “You always were so naive.”

Jiwon’s lips trembled, guilt pressing down on her chest. “I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Her stepmother smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “Of course you didn’t, dear. You never do, do you?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in mock disapproval. “But intentions don’t erase consequences.”

Jiwon looked down, shame crawling through her. “I just… I thought…”

Her stepmother's fingers tightened slightly on her chin, lifting her face. “You thought you could play in a world that doesn't belong to you,” she said softly, though there was something sharp beneath her words, something cruel. “You thought you could be reckless and not pay the price. But you’re just like your mother, aren’t you? Always chasing things beyond your reach.”

Jiwon blinked rapidly, her stepmother's words slicing through her defenses with precision. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Her stepmother laughed lightly, standing back up. “I know, dear. But mistakes like yours? They leave stains that don’t wash off easily.” She glanced at the looming gates. “You’ve embarrassed your father for the last time. It’s better this way.”

Jiwon nodded slowly, tears falling freely now. Deep down, she believed it too. This was her fault. No one else’s.

Her stepmother turned back toward the house, pausing at the threshold. She tilted her head, watching Jiwon with a smile that didn’t match the satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Jiwon,” she said sweetly, before glancing at the guards. “Close it.”

As the gates groaned shut, sealing her out, her stepmother’s voice drifted through the cold air one last time. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll convince your father to at least continue treating your mother. Someone has to think of her well-being, after all.”

She stood frozen, chest heaving, her hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her dress. The cold night air bit at her skin, her hair falling in disheveled strands around her face. Her cheek still burned from the slap, and the ache in her chest threatened to crush her.

Then, her phone vibrated in her pocket, the sudden buzz cutting through the suffocating silence. With shaking hands, she fumbled it out, her blurred vision struggling to focus on the screen.

A notification.

Breaking News: Heir of Park Conglomerate spotted with chaebol bachelor—scandal unfolds.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded violently as she stared at the photo accompanying the headline—her and him, stepping into the hotel together, the grainy image unmistakably damning.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, the cold metal trembling against her skin.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with relentless force.

She should have known better.

She should have never let herself be so reckless, so desperate for something—anything—that she thought for even a moment he could offer her.

She was the one who let him too close.

She was the one who fell for the way he touched her, the way he looked at her like she was something more than just a pawn in her father’s plans.

She was the one who let a single night ruin everything.

You watch as Jihoon dials the number, his expression calm and professional. The phone rings a few times before someone on the other end picks up.

"Hello, this is Park Group. How may I assist you?" a polite yet detached voice answers.

Jihoon leans slightly forward. "Good evening, this is Jihoon from J Group. We’d like to speak with Chairman Park regarding an important matter."

There’s a brief pause, a faint shuffle on the other end before the voice responds. "Please hold, I'll transfer you to the chairman."

Jihoon meets your eyes, giving you a subtle nod as he waits. A few seconds later, the line clicks.

"This is Chairman Park," the familiar, calculated voice filters through the speaker.

Jihoon quickly hands you the phone, his voice steady but respectful. "Sir, Chairman Park is on the line. I've introduced you as the CEO of J Group."

You take the phone, your grip firm, and bring it to your ear. "Chairman Park," you say evenly.

A brief silence, then his voice, smooth and unreadable, replies, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

“I’d like to discuss a potential marriage arrangement,” you cut straight to the point, feeling the weight of your grandmother’s gaze on you. She’s watching carefully, waiting for every word.

The line falls silent for a moment too long. Then, Chairman Park’s voice, still smooth but with an underlying note of surprise, responds. “A marriage arrangement? Isn’t this... sudden?”

You lean back in your chair, the cool surface of the desk beneath your fingertips grounding you. “Circumstances have changed. I believe it would be in both our interests to resolve this sooner rather than later.”

There’s another silence, as if the man is considering your words carefully. Then, after a pause, he speaks again. “Very well.”

You nod, though he can’t see you. “Perfect. I’ll send you the address, Lets meet there later at 8. ”

But then, you can’t help it — you have to ask. “And Jiwon?”

For a moment, the line is quiet again, and when Chairman Park responds, his tone is careful, almost rehearsed. “She’s... currently unavailable.”

You don’t let it slide. “I’d still like to speak with her.”

There’s a shift in his tone, subtle but noticeable. “She’s resting. This has been... overwhelming for her, as you can imagine.”

Your brow furrows, but you keep your voice steady. “I’d like to hear that from her myself.”

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re persistent, Don’t you think?”

“I have to be,” you reply, your grip on the phone tightening. Something doesn’t feel right.

Another pause, then, “I’m afraid Jiwon isn’t in a position to talk right now. But don’t worry, you’ll see her soon enough.”

Your eyes narrow, your instincts prickling with unease. Something isn’t adding up. You exchange a glance with your grandmother, who’s watching you closely. The unease swirling in your chest tightens.

“Understood,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s an edge to it now. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You hang up, the silence of the room heavy in the wake of the conversation. Your grandmother’s eyes are on you, sharp as ever.

“What is it?” she asks, sensing the shift in you.

You place the phone down, your fingers lingering on the edge as you stare at it. Something is wrong. The way Chairman Park avoided your questions, the way he kept circling around Jiwon’s whereabouts... you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than he’s letting on.

“So… did they agree?” your grandmother asks impatiently, her sharp eyes studying you like a hawk.

"Yeah, later at eight," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jihoon will send you the address."

She nods, satisfied for now, but you can feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on you.

You rise from your chair abruptly, already reaching for your coat. “I have to go somewhere first,” you say, your mind racing ahead.

Jihoon, standing quietly by the door, perks up at your sudden movement. His eyes flick to yours, waiting for instructions.

"Wait for my call," you add, pulling on your coat with a sense of urgency. "Just in case."

Jihoon gives a curt nod, understanding the unspoken tension in your voice. “Understood.”

You don’t wait for another word. With each step out of the office, the uneasy feeling in your chest grows heavier. Something isn’t right—Chairman Park was hiding something, and you weren’t going to sit around and find out what it was the hard way.

As you step outside, the cold air biting against your skin, one thought lingers in your mind.

Where are you, Jiwon?

Jiwon sits hunched over at the bar, her fingers trembling around the glass as she takes another sip. The alcohol burns down her throat, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in her chest. The same dim lighting, the same hushed murmurs of conversation around her—it’s almost comforting. Almost.

Her reflection stares back at her from the glossy surface of the counter, a ghost of the person she used to be. Her cheeks are swollen, a faint imprint of her father’s anger still visible against her skin. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes wrinkled and clinging to her like a bad memory. She swirls the amber liquid in her glass, biting down the sob rising in her throat.

"Rough night?" The bartender’s voice is gentle, but wary. She doesn’t look up, just nods and takes another sip.

"You sure you’re okay, miss?" he presses, his concern deepening. "You've been here a while."

Before she can answer, a voice cuts through the air from behind her. Deep, steady, and far too familiar.

"I’m with her."

Jiwon stiffens, the glass freezing midair. Her pulse quickens, the weight of his presence settling over her like an iron chain. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Of course he would find her.

“You’re here again, drinking, alone.” Your voice is soft, almost too soft—tinged with something that sounds dangerously close to concern. “I thought I told you not to do that.”

Jiwon doesn't turn around right away. She takes another slow sip, staring down into her glass as if it holds all the answers she’s desperately looking for. When she finally speaks, her voice is light, almost joking—but devoid of any real joy.

“Ah... you’re here, Mister CEO.” A dry chuckle escapes her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I should’ve known.”

She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around the glass. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen… I didn’t think someone would take a picture of us.”

Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this scandal.”

She’s blaming herself.

A slow, almost amused smile tugs at the corner of your lips. How easily she takes the fall—so eager to carry the weight of it all on those delicate shoulders. It’s almost endearing, really, how she thinks this is her doing.

She has no idea.

No idea that you’re the one who set this all in motion, that every step she’s taken has been within the palm of your hand. And yet, she looks at you with those trusting, guilt-ridden eyes, as if you’re her only lifeline.

You lean in slightly, watching her crumble, savoring the way she still believes you’re the victim here.

It’s almost too easy.

You notice the swollen redness marring her cheek, a stark contrast against her pale skin. It doesn’t take much to piece it together—who did it, why it happened. A slow, simmering anger coils in your chest, familiar and possessive. It always makes you mad when someone lays a hand on what’s yours. And this time is no different.

Your jaw tightens, but your voice remains smooth, unwavering. “Stop drinking,” you say, reaching for the half-empty glass in front of her and sliding it away. “Tidy yourself up. We have somewhere to go.”

She blinks up at you, confusion flickering through the haze in her eyes. You can tell she wants to protest, but something in your tone leaves no room for argument.

You watch as she swallows hard, her fingers trembling slightly before they reach for a napkin, dabbing at the corner of her mouth as if that alone could erase the evidence of what happened.

Good. She’s learning.

Once again, Jiwon found herself following him without hesitation, as if it were second nature. Despite everything that had happened, despite the turmoil in her heart, she couldn't fight the invisible pull he had on her. It was undeniable—an unspoken force that drew her in, compelling her to trust him when she knew she shouldn’t.

He led her to his car and slid in first without a word, his presence commanding in its quiet intensity. With a simple gesture, he motioned for her to join him. And she did. She settled into the passenger seat, her pulse thrumming in her ears, a heavy silence stretching between them.

As he reached for his phone, his voice cut through the stillness, sharp and composed. “Jihoon, get me a dress for a lady. I’ll wait by the lot behind the office.” His tone was cool, effortless—like he was always in control.

A brief pause followed, then his eyes flickered to her, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. “As for sizes…” he trailed off, clearly expecting her to respond.

Caught off guard, Jiwon’s cheeks flushed. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Um… I’m a small. My measurements are…” She hesitated before murmuring the numbers, feeling an odd sense of vulnerability under his unwavering gaze.

He listened in silence, his expression giving nothing away. With a curt nod, he relayed the details to Jihoon and ended the call.

The hum of the engine filled the air, the steady rhythm amplifying the tension between them. Jiwon sat stiffly, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her thoughts racing. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting, but she kept her eyes fixed outside the window, watching the blur of city lights pass by.

A quiet sigh escaped him, breaking the stillness. She risked a glance in his direction, anxiety coiling in her chest. Was he disappointed? Angry? The uncertainty gnawed at her, making the silence feel suffocating.

The drive stretched on, each passing moment only deepening the questions swirling in her mind. Her fingers toyed nervously with her coat, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

When they finally pulled into the parking lot, Jiwon held her breath. He parked but didn’t move, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. The silence thickened, settling heavily between them.

Stealing another glance at him, she found him staring into the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable—watching, waiting.

“Why are we here?” she asked, her voice fragile, barely a whisper. Her eyes stayed on the dashboard, afraid of what she might see in his face. “Why did you bring me here?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally turned to her. His gaze was steady, piercing. “You looked like you needed somewhere to go,” he said simply.

Jiwon swallowed, her fingers trembling as she gripped her coat tighter. “I… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she murmured. “I just… didn’t know where else to go.”

His eyes lingered on her, the weight of his silence making her stomach twist. Then, after a moment, he reached out—his fingers grazing the back of her hand, a touch so light it sent a shiver through her. “You’re not trouble,” he said, his voice softer now, laced with something unfamiliar. “But you shouldn’t be out there alone. Not like this.”

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t have anywhere else,” she admitted, voice breaking. “My father… he…”

She couldn’t finish. The memory of his harsh words, the sting of his slap, still clung to her like a shadow. But she didn’t have to say it—he already knew.

His jaw clenched, a dark flicker in his gaze. “Your father’s a fool,” he said flatly, leaving no room for argument. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jiwon blinked, caught off guard by the quiet anger simmering beneath his words. She had expected indifference, maybe even judgment—but not this. Not the fierce protectiveness lurking behind his calm demeanor.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered. “I never thought… I never thought someone would take a picture of us. I didn’t think it would turn into this.”

He studied her intently, as if searching for something beneath the surface. Then, with a slow exhale, he leaned back, his hand still lightly resting against hers. “It’s not your fault,” he said, voice steady but resolute. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. “But I did,” she murmured. “I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have—”

He cut her off with a touch—gentle but firm as his fingers brushed her cheek. The warmth of it burned through the cold she felt inside. “You don’t have to be careful with me,” he said, his tone unwavering. “Not anymore.”

Jiwon’s breath caught. The way he looked at her—dark, possessive, and yet… protective—made her feel things she couldn’t quite name. Things she wasn’t sure she should feel.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, voice trembling. “Why do you care?”

His eyes never wavered from hers, his expression serious. “Because you’re mine,” he said, the words carrying a quiet intensity that left no room for doubt. “And I don’t let anyone take what’s mine.”

A shiver ran down her spine. There was something about the way he said it—calm, certain, as if it was an undeniable truth. She wasn’t sure whether to feel terrified or safe.

Before she could find the words to respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the lot. Jihoon emerged from the shadows, a garment bag draped over his arm and a pair of heels in hand.

He offered a polite, reassuring smile as he handed the items through the open window. “Here you go,” he said, his tone light but professional. “I think you’ll like it.”

Jiwon hesitated before taking the bag, her hands trembling slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Jihoon nodded, his gaze briefly flickering toward the man beside her before stepping back. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, the respect in his voice unmistakable.

As he walked away, Jiwon turned back to him, her heart still racing. “What… what is this for?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

His eyes met hers, unwavering. “Dinner,” he said simply. “With your father.”

Jiwon’s breath stilled, and she clutched the garment bag tightly, the soft fabric crinkling under her trembling fingers. “Dinner?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “With my father?”

He gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable yet strangely reassuring. “Yes,” he said, his tone even. “To discuss our upcoming marriage.”

Jiwon froze, her lips parting in shock. “M-Marriage?” she stammered, her wide eyes searching his face for some hint of a joke. But there was none. His expression remained calm, composed—completely serious.

“Yes,” he repeated smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s the next logical step, don’t you think?”

Jiwon shook her head slowly, disbelief washing over her. “I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why would you—why would we…?”

He leaned back slightly, watching her with that same steady gaze that always made her feel like he was ten steps ahead of her. “Because it’s what’s best for you,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Your father will listen to reason if he knows you’re in good hands.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could barely form the words. “But we’re not… we’re not really…”

His lips curled into a faint smile, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Not yet,” he said, tilting his head as if considering something. “But we could be. It’s a solution to your problems, Jiwon. You’ll have security, protection—everything you need.”

Jiwon’s fingers clenched the garment bag tighter, her mind racing. Everything about this felt overwhelming, too sudden, too unreal. She barely even knew what to say. “But marriage isn’t something you can just—just decide like this.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, laced with quiet persuasion. “I’m not forcing you,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “But think about it. No more running, no more uncertainty. Your father will have no reason to push you away anymore.”

Jiwon swallowed hard, her thoughts swirling in chaos. She had spent so long feeling lost, unwanted—always fighting to prove herself. And here he was, offering a way out, a way to fix everything, even if it felt… too easy. Too perfect.

“I…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away, staring down at the fabric in her lap. “It just feels… so sudden.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Life rarely waits for us to catch up, Jiwon.” He reached out, his fingers grazing the back of her hand, sending a shiver up her spine. “Trust me. This is the right move.”

Her heart fluttered at his touch, her mind screaming at her to think, to question—but all she could feel was the steady pull he had over her, the way his words made everything seem so inevitable.

“I need to think,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

He nodded, as if he had already expected that. “Of course. Take your time,” he said smoothly. “But tonight, just come to dinner. Let your father see that you're not alone.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn't trust herself to argue anymore. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl.” His smile was small but satisfied, and Jiwon couldn’t help but feel like she had just taken a step onto a path she didn’t fully understand.

“Where… where should I change?” she asked hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror as if he were barely paying attention. “Here,” he said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. “You’re not walking through the building like that, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the garment bag as she sat in the passenger seat. The air in the car felt heavy, charged with a tension she couldn’t quite place. He had told her to change right there, in the front seat, and though his tone had been indifferent at first, something about the way he’d said it made her pulse quicken.

“Here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks already burning at the thought.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel, his expression unreadable. “Unless you’d rather walk through the building like that,” he said, his tone calm, almost bored. “Your choice.”

Jiwon hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced down at her wrinkled clothes, the faint scent of alcohol still clinging to her. He was right—she couldn't be seen like this and she couldn’t exactly walk into the dinner looking like this. But the idea of changing in the car, with him just inches away, made her stomach twist with nervousness.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. She unzipped the garment bag, her fingers fumbling as she pulled out the dress. It was a soft pink, simple but elegant, with delicate straps and a fitted silhouette. She glanced at him again, but he wasn’t looking at her his eyes were fixed on the windshield, his expression detached.

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she began to undress. She slipped off her coat first, then her shoes, her movements careful but hurried. She could feel the weight of his presence beside her, calm and steady, but there was something about the way he was sitting his jaw tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel that made her heart race.

When she began to unbutton her blouse, she felt it the shift in the air. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but then she heard it: the faintest intake of breath, the softest rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.

Her heart skipped a beat, her hands freezing mid-motion. She glanced at him, her cheeks burning as she realized his gaze was no longer fixed on the windshield.

His eyes were on her now, dark and intense, and there was something in his expression something heated, almost predatory that made her stomach twist.

“I… I thought you weren’t going to look,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he finally spoke. “I wasn’t,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you make it difficult not to.”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes something possessive, almost hungry that made her stomach twist with a mix of fear and something else she couldn’t quite name. She should protest, should demand he look away, but the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered made it impossible to think clearly.

Her fingers trembled as she finished unbuttoning her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the seat beside her. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and unrelenting, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She reached for the dress, her hands shaking as she pulled it over her head, the soft fabric sliding over her skin. She adjusted the straps, smoothing out the material as it hugged her figure, her cheeks burning under his intense scrutiny.

When she was done, she glanced at him, her breath catching in her throat as she realized he was still watching her, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place. And then she noticed it—the unmistakable tent in his pants, the evidence of his desire impossible to ignore.

Her heart raced, her mind spinning as she stared at him. The words had slipped out before she could cage them—reckless, impulsive, charged with a heat she hadn’t meant to unleash. “I… I could help you with that.”

The moment the words left her lips, her entire body froze. His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and molten, like embers flaring to life. She backtracked immediately, panic fraying her voice.

“I—I just meant… it looks uncomfortable. You’re clearly… struggling. And I—I might’ve caused that, right? Because of the way I… undressed. We’ve already done it before, so it’s not… and if we do get married, we’ll have to… anyway, so—”

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes darkening as they raked over her—the flushed cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of her pink dress. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.

“Caused this?” he repeated, his voice rougher now, thumb brushing the edge of the steering wheel. “You think you did this?” His gaze dropped pointedly to the strained fabric of his slacks, then back to her face. “Are you that confident in what you do to me, Jiwon?”

She swallowed, her pulse thrumming wildly. “N-no! I just—I thought—”

“And if we marry,” he cut in, leaning closer, his breath grazing her ear, “we’ll ‘have to do this anyway’?” His hand settled on her thigh, warm and deliberate. “Define this. What exactly are you volunteering for?”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her skin burning beneath his touch. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“You’re talking in circles,” he murmured, fingers tightening slightly on her leg. “But I’ll admit… your eagerness is… interesting.”

The low, graveled edge to his voice sent a shiver through her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted, his tone shifting to a warning—one layered with barely restrained hunger.

“Careful,” he said, his thumb tracing idle circles on her thigh. “You keep offering things you don’t understand. You might regret it.”

But Jiwon, emboldened by the flicker of heat in his eyes, doubled down. “I’m not wrong,” she insisted, lifting her chin. “You said it yourself—I’m yours. So… so this is part of that, isn’t it?”

For a heartbeat, he stared at her, his composure cracking just enough to reveal the hunger beneath. A rough laugh escaped him, his grip on her thigh tightening as he pulled her closer.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “But since you’re so determined…” He released her, gesturing vaguely toward his lap, his gaze never leaving hers. “Show me what you’re offering.”

Jiwon’s courage wavered. Her earlier bravado dissolved into shaky uncertainty as she stared at the evidence of his arousal, her mouth suddenly dry. “I… I don’t… How do I…?”

He leaned back, his smile sharp and thrillingly dangerous. “You started this,” he said, his voice a velvet command. “Finish it.”

Jiwon’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the waistband of his slacks, her breath shallow and uneven. His gaze never wavered, a silent dare burning in his eyes as she fumbled with the zipper, the sound obscenely loud in the charged silence. When she finally tugged his pants and underwear down just enough to free his length, her throat went dry. He was thick, already fully hard, and the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

She hesitated, her palm hovering inches away, until his voice cut through the tension—low, edged with impatience. “Don’t stop now.”

Her first touch was tentative, her fingers wrapping around him with unsure pressure. A sharp inhale escaped him, his jaw clenching, and she froze. But when his hand slid into her hair, not pushing, just anchoring, she took it as permission. Slowly, she began to stroke him, her movements awkward at first, her thumb brushing clumsily over the head.

His reaction was immediate—a low groan, his hips jerking faintly upward into her grip. Emboldened, she tightened her fingers, finding a rhythm that made his breath hitch. She chanced a glance at his face and nearly faltered at what she saw: his head tilted back against the seat, eyes half-lidded but blazing, lips parted as ragged breaths slipped free.

He’s letting go. The realization sent a thrill through her, her own arousal spiking as she watched him unravel. Her strokes grew bolder, her free hand braced against his thigh for balance, her thumb swiping over the slickness beading at his tip.

“Jiwon.” Her name was a growl, a warning and a plea.

She didn’t stop. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath ghosting over his skin as her lips brushed the hollow of his throat. His hand tightened in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to force her to meet his gaze.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his voice fraying at the edges.

She obeyed, her strokes slowing as she watched him—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when she twisted her wrist, the muscle fluttering in his jaw as he fought to keep still. A dark, unfamiliar pride bloomed in her chest. She did this. She reduced him to this—a man of calculated control, now gripping the steering wheel like it might snap under his restraint.

Her own need coiled tighter, her thighs pressing together as she worked him faster, spurred on by the raw hunger in his eyes. She could feel him thickening in her hand, his hips rolling upward to meet her strokes, his breath coming in sharp, fractured bursts.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his free hand sliding down to grip her wrist, not to stop her, but to guide her, his thumb pressing over hers to adjust her rhythm. “Just like that.”

The praise ignited something reckless in her. She leaned in again, her lips grazing his ear. “Do you… like this?” she whispered, the question trembling with a boldness she didn’t recognize.

His laugh was a dark, shattered sound. “You’ll know when I do.”

“Move”

Your voice cuts through the charged air, rough and strained, and Jiwon freezes. Her wide, innocent eyes blink up at you, her lips parted in that soft, questioning way that makes something dark coil tighter in your gut. You watch the confusion flicker across her face—unsure, hesitant—but she obeys.

Slowly, cautiously, she shifts, her touch lingering a moment too long before she pulls her hand away. The absence of her warmth makes your jaw clench, your control hanging by a thread. She’s always so careful, so sweet, and it drives you fucking insane.

You guide her, hands firm on her waist, positioning her until she’s straddling you. Her knees press into the seat on either side of your thighs, her trembling fingers finding tentative purchase on your shoulders. Her breathing is unsteady, shallow, her cheeks flushed pink under the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the windshield.

“Like this?” she whispers, voice uncertain, a quiet vulnerability lacing her tone.

Your hands tighten on her hips, grounding yourself in the softness of her curves, in the way she feels so small beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you rasp, letting your thumbs stroke slow, lazy circles into her skin. “Just like that.”

You can feel the tension in her muscles, the way she holds herself so carefully, afraid of doing something wrong. But you don’t want careful. You don’t want hesitant.

You want her.

With a slow, deliberate pull, you drag her down, pressing her against the hard, aching length of you. Her breath hitches sharply, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she feels just how much you want this—how much you need her.

“You feel that?” you murmur, voice low, dangerous against the shell of her ear. “This is what you do to me, Jiwon.”

She swallows hard, her body trembling slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts, pressing down tentatively, testing the friction, the heat, and fuck, you feel it in your bones.

“Good girl,” you breathe, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them, and the way she reacts—the way she melts against you—makes your blood run hotter.

Her fingers clutch at your shirt, unsure, unsteady, and you can’t help the way your hands slide up her sides, over her ribs, until you’re cupping her face, forcing her to look at you. “You wanted to help me, don’t you?”

She nods without hesitation, her lips parting in a breathless, “Yes.”

That one word sends something primal surging through you, and your grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who’s in control.

“Then move for me,” you say, the command firm, unrelenting.

Jiwon hesitates for the barest second before she obeys, shifting in your lap, rocking against you with shy, uncertain motions that drive you fucking wild. She’s so soft, so eager, and the way she bites down on her lip, trying to hold back those sweet little noises, makes your restraint slip another inch.

“That’s it,” you murmur, one hand slipping down to guide her, helping her find the right rhythm. “Just like that, baby.”

Her breathing stutters, and she clings to you tighter, her forehead resting against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I— I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admits in a whisper, and the innocence in her voice nearly undoes you.

You smirk, your hands roaming lower, gripping her ass, pulling her closer, grinding her against you until she gasps. “You’re learning,” you murmur, lips brushing against her temple. “And you’re doing so fucking good.”

She shivers, pressing closer, and you can feel the heat pooling between her thighs, the dampness seeping through the thin fabric of her underwear. It takes everything in you not to rip it off, not to flip her over and take everything she’s offering. But you hold back. Barely.

Instead, you let her explore, let her take what she needs. You can feel her pulse racing, feel the anticipation thrumming between you both like a live wire.

“Keep going,” you urge, your hands steady on her hips, guiding, controlling. “I want to feel you.”

And she does. Slowly at first, then with more confidence, grinding against you in slow, teasing rolls that make your grip tighten, your breath grow ragged. She’s needy, desperate in a way she doesn’t quite understand yet, but you do. And you’ll teach her.

You lean in, dragging your lips down the side of her throat, feeling the way she shivers beneath you. “You like this, don’t you?” you whisper, your tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just below her ear. “You like how I feel against you.”

She nods frantically, pressing harder, her soft whimpers filling the small space of the car.

You chuckle darkly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “That’s my girl.”

Her fingers tighten in your hair, and she’s moving faster now, desperate, lost in it, in you. Your grip on her hips turns bruising, guiding her harder, deeper, until the friction becomes unbearable.

“Jiwon,” you groan, your forehead resting against hers, sweat beading at your temples. “You’re gonna drive me fucking crazy.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her lips grazing yours, hesitant, teasing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You grin against her mouth, your hands slipping beneath her dress, fingers teasing along the edge of her panties. “Yeah,” you murmur. “It is.”

Then, without warning, you flip her onto her back against the seat, pinning her beneath you, your weight pressing down until there’s nowhere for her to go—nowhere for her to hide.

Her eyes widen, lips parting in a soft gasp, but there’s no fear. Only trust.

And that’s all the permission you need.

You press her down into the seat, your weight settling over her like a promise. Jiwon's breath comes in soft, shaky pants, her eyes wide, searching yours, but you see it—the need, the anticipation trembling just beneath the surface of her innocence. You slide your hands under her dress, bunching the fabric up to her waist, revealing the soft curves of her thighs, the damp heat pressing against you through the thin scrap of lace she calls underwear.

"You're already soaked," you murmur, dragging a finger along the slickness pooling between her thighs, feeling her shudder. "How long have you been waiting for this, Jiwon?"

She turns her face to the side, cheeks flushed, biting her lip in that way that drives you insane. "I... I don't know," she whispers, but the way she shifts beneath you, pressing up into your touch, tells a different story.

"Liar," you smirk, pushing her panties aside, letting the heat of her bare skin sear into your palm. You slide a finger inside her without warning, feeling her clench around you, tight, warm, perfect. Her sharp intake of breath is loud—too loud.

Your hand clamps over her mouth instantly, fingers digging into her jaw. "Quiet," you warn, your voice low, dark. "Do you want someone to hear us?"

She shakes her head frantically, her wide eyes meeting yours, but you don't miss the way her thighs tighten around your hand, the way her walls flutter around your fingers like she’s excited by the risk.

You chuckle softly, a dark, knowing sound, and you lean in, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You like it, don't you?" you whisper, curling your fingers inside her, teasing that spot that makes her squirm. "The thought of someone catching you like this... spread open, taking my fingers, my cock."

She whimpers against your palm, her hips rocking helplessly against your hand. You remove your hand from her mouth, trailing it down her body, savoring the way she trembles beneath you.

"I— I don't..." she tries to deny it, but the words come out shaky, uncertain. You drag your cock along her slit, coating yourself in her slickness, and her breath catches. "Please..."

"Please what, Jiwon?" you murmur, pressing against her entrance, teasing, not giving her what she wants just yet.

She swallows hard, her hands clutching at your shoulders. "Please... don't tease me," she whispers, voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and something she doesn't quite understand yet.

You smirk, pushing inside her in one slow, relentless thrust, watching her eyes widen, her lips parting on a silent cry. She's so tight, so wet, and you groan, feeling her squeeze around you like she's trying to keep you inside forever.

"God, you're gripping me so tight," you growl, your hands sliding down to her hips, holding her still. "You're lucky it's me and not someone else, Jiwon. Someone who wouldn't be so careful with you."

Her nails dig into your back, her walls fluttering around you in response, and you feel it—that dark thrill, the way her body reacts before her mind can catch up.

Then—headlights.

A sudden beam sweeps through the windshield, cutting across Jiwon's flushed skin, illuminating the scene in stark, undeniable clarity. She freezes beneath you, her body going stiff, and for a moment, neither of you move, the tension thick, suffocating.

But then—then.

You feel it.

Her walls clamp down on you, a strangled moan slipping from her lips before she can stop it. The realization hits you hard, a wicked grin curling at your lips as you lean down, your breath hot against her ear.

"You like this," you whisper, rolling your hips slowly, deliberately, dragging a ragged gasp from her throat. "The idea of being seen... being watched."

"I—" She shakes her head, but her nails scrape against your skin, and her hips move on their own, rocking against you.

"Liar," you murmur again, biting down gently on her neck, feeling the way she squirms beneath you. "Look at you, clenching around me so tight. Are you dripping because you're scared, or because you want them to see what a good little wife you are?"

She whimpers, her face turning away in shame, but you catch her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "Tell me, Jiwon," you demand, thrusting deep, slow, pulling another gasp from her. "Would you let them watch? Let them see how I ruin you?"

She shakes her head frantically, but the way her body tightens, the way her thighs tremble against yours, tells you the truth.

"You would," you chuckle darkly, dragging your cock out slowly before slamming back in, making her arch under you. "You'd let them see how desperate you are for me."

"Stop," she pleads, but there's no real conviction in her voice, just raw, trembling need.

You lean down, your lips brushing hers. "Make me," you challenge, your thrusts growing rougher, deeper, filling her completely.

She doesn't. She can't. She's lost in it now, lost in you, her legs wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you deeper, harder.

"You feel so good," you groan, dragging a hand up her body to cup her breast, teasing the sensitive peak. "You were made for this, Jiwon. Made for me."

Her whimpers grow louder, her grip desperate, and you clamp a hand over her mouth again. "Shh," you murmur, your pace relentless. "Unless you want them to hear you."

She moans against your palm, her body trembling violently beneath you, and you feel it—she's close, right on the edge, teetering.

"Come for me," you rasp, thrusting hard, deep, hitting that spot that makes her eyes roll back. "Show me how much you love this."

Her body tenses, and with a muffled cry, she shatters around you, her walls gripping you like a vice, pulling you deeper into her heat. The tight squeeze, the raw desperation, it's too much—your own release hits you like a freight train, a guttural groan ripping from your throat as you spill inside her, holding her close, buried deep.

For a moment, neither of you move, the only sound filling the car is your ragged breathing, the creak of the leather seat beneath you, and the distant hum of the city.

Jiwon slumps against you, trembling, her body still pulsing around you in the aftershocks. Your hands stay firm on her hips, grounding her, keeping her in place.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," you whisper against her damp skin, smirking when she doesn't respond, just clings to you tighter.

For a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the way she fits against you, the way she’s still trying to catch her breath. But then your eyes flicker to the dashboard, and a low curse slips from your lips.

“Shit.”

Jiwon stirs slightly, dazed and blissed out. “Hmm?”

You run a hand down your face, frustration simmering beneath the lingering heat of your release. “The dinner. Your parents.”

Her entire body stiffens against you, her eyes snapping open in alarm. “Oh my God.”

You grin darkly, smoothing your hands over her hips. “Yeah. We’re very late.”

The drive to the dinner is quiet, the hum of the engine a dull counterpoint to the chaos in your head. You keep your eyes on the road, grip tight on the steering wheel, but you feel her. Always her.

Jiwon sits beside you, radiating a warmth that’s annoying in its persistence. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch it—the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers trace idle patterns on her thigh, the faint, stupid smile she’s trying to hide. It makes your jaw clench. She’s glowing, soft and satisfied, like she’s just been given something precious instead of fucked raw in a parking lot.

Pathetic.

But then her hand drifts toward yours, tentative, brushing your knuckles. You stiffen. “What?” you snap, sharper than intended.

She flinches, but doesn’t retreat. “Can I… hold your hand?”

The question is so absurd, so ordinary, you nearly laugh. But her eyes—wide, hopeful, still hazy with whatever delusion she’s spinning—stop you. You should refuse. Should remind her this isn’t a romance. But the memory of her body clenching around you, desperate and yours, lingers like a brand.

“Fine,” you mutter, relenting. “If you need to cling.”

Her fingers slip into yours, soft and trusting, and you hate how your pulse jumps. You tell yourself it’s a reward. A leash. Let her have this small comfort, if it keeps her pliant for what’s coming.

She squeezes gently, and you squeeze back—harder, a warning. Mine.

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head against the window, that damned smile still playing on her lips.

You don’t answer. Instead, you focus on the road, on the cold calculus of the dinner ahead. Let her dream. Let her think this changes anything.

But when you pull up to the restaurant, her hand still in yours, you don’t let go. Not yet.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant, Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers still entwined with his. The steady warmth of his hand had been her anchor throughout the drive, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. But as the valet opened her door, reality crashed back in, sharp and unforgiving. She pulled her hand away instinctively, smoothing the fabric of her dress in a futile attempt to steady herself.

Stepping out, the towering entrance of the restaurant loomed before her, an imposing reminder of what awaited inside. The mere thought of facing her father—her stepmother—sent an uneasy twist through her stomach.

She lingered by the car, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. He noticed.

With a quiet sigh, he reached out, his palm open in silent reassurance.

“Jiwon,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady. “Come here.”

Her eyes flickered to his hand, uncertainty clouding her expression. “I—”

“You’ll be fine.” His tone softened, but there was an undeniable firmness beneath it. “I’m right here.”

After a beat, she swallowed hard and placed her hand back in his. His fingers curled around hers, firm and unwavering, and the tension coiled in her chest loosened—just a little.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, leading her forward with the quiet confidence she envied. “Just stay close to me,” he said smoothly, as if his presence alone could shield her from everything that lay ahead.

Jiwon nodded, clutching his hand tighter as they stepped through the grand entrance. Inside, the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses faded into the background, overshadowed by the looming confrontation she could feel brewing.

The hostess greeted them with a polite nod before guiding them toward the private dining room. As the door swung open, Jiwon’s heart faltered.

The room was elegant, the chandelier above casting a warm glow over the meticulously arranged table. His grandmother sat at the head, a pillar of quiet authority. At the sight of them entering together, her lips curved ever so slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing her face.

Her father and stepmother, however, were not so welcoming.

Jiwon’s father’s expression shifted—shock flickering across his usually impassive features before his gaze hardened into something sharper, more calculating. Her stepmother, ever composed, maintained a careful smile, but Jiwon didn’t miss the way her fingers tensed against the table’s edge.

They hadn’t expected her to come. More importantly, they hadn’t expected him.

A fleeting sense of satisfaction sparked in her chest, only to be replaced by the crushing weight of their stares.

Jiwon’s grip on his hand faltered, uncertainty creeping in. Had this been a mistake?

As they stepped further inside, the atmosphere thickened with unspoken expectations. Conversations stilled, glasses set down mid-motion.

Jiwon forced a nervous smile, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Ah, um…” she started, her voice catching in her throat. “Father, Mother, I—” She glanced toward him, as if drawing strength. “This is—”

And then it happened.

The shift.

His demeanor changed in an instant. The warmth that had reassured her moments ago disappeared, replaced by a cold, unrelenting presence.

His gaze fixed on her stepmother with a sharp, unwavering intensity, and the sudden chill in the air made Jiwon’s pulse stutter. The hand that had held hers so gently now felt like a distant memory.

Without thinking, she withdrew her fingers, instinctively retreating from the invisible force radiating from him.

Her throat tightened as she stole a glance at him. Gone was the composed man who had whispered reassurances in the car; in his place stood someone far colder, far more dangerous.

Her father’s voice sliced through the silence. “You’re late.”

Jiwon stiffened at the weight of his disapproval, but beside her, he remained unmoved, his gaze locked on her stepmother with a simmering fury that made her insides twist.

He didn’t need to say a word—his presence alone sent a message clear enough.

Jiwon swallowed, suddenly feeling like an outsider in her own family’s presence.

Maybe… maybe she shouldn’t have come.

The steady hum of the office barely registers in your mind—the clatter of keyboards, the muffled conversations, the occasional shrill ring of a phone. It’s all just background noise, drowned out by the thoughts you can’t seem to shake.

Jiwon.

You stare at the contract in front of you, the words blurring into meaningless lines of text. Your pen rests idle in your hand, tapping against the desk in an erratic rhythm. It’s been fifteen minutes, and you haven’t flipped a page.

She left.

Slipped away before the sun even rose, without a word, without a trace—except for the crumpled bills she left on the nightstand.

Your jaw tightens at the memory. Did she really think it was just a one-night thing? That she could simply walk away and pay it off like some meaningless transaction? The thought settles in your chest like a dull ache, an irritation you can't quite ignore.

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply.

You’re not the type to dwell on these things. And yet, here you are.

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sir,” comes a familiar voice, laced with just the right amount of exasperation. “If you’re done brooding dramatically, the board meeting is in thirty minutes. You know, the thing that actually pays your bills?”

You glance up to find Jihoon standing in the doorway, a stack of documents in his hands, the usual tired patience in his expression.

“Brooding?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t brood.”

Jihoon snorts, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “Right. And I’m quitting tomorrow.” He drops the files onto your desk with a dull thud. “You’ve been staring at that page like it’s about to confess its undying love for you. Which, by the way, is kind of unsettling.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “I was thinking.”

“Oh, I can tell. Must be exhausting for you.” Jihoon crosses his arms, watching you closely. “Let me guess—woman trouble?”

You don’t answer, which only makes his grin widen.

“Called it. So, what’s her name?”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before muttering, “Park Jiwon.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows for a moment, then his eyes widen slightly in recognition. “Wait... Park Jiwon? As in Park Sangho’s daughter?”

The name sits on your tongue uncomfortably. “Park Sangho?”

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, Park Sangho. CEO of Park Conglomerate. Or what’s left of it. They’ve been struggling for a while now.” He pauses, eyeing you carefully. “And his daughter... well, there’s been talk about her getting married off to Director Kang.”

Your fingers tap against the desk. Kang. You know the name well enough—ruthless in business, worse with women. The kind of man who takes what he wants without a second thought.

Jihoon smirks. “Sounds like she dodged a bullet, running into you instead.”

You don’t laugh. If anything, the thought irritates you more. Jiwon thought she could slip away quietly, disappear before anyone noticed. Too bad she met you instead.

Reaching into your drawer, you pull out the grainy black-and-white photo—the one you got from the paparazzi before they had a chance to release it. You and Jiwon, walking into the hotel together.

You should have deleted it, like you always do. But this time, you didn’t.

You slide the photo across the desk. “Spread it.”

Jihoon blinks. “You serious? This’ll stir up a mess.”

“That’s the point.” Your voice is steady, calculated.

Jihoon gives you a long look before shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You watch him pick up the photo, your mind already working three steps ahead.

Jiwon didn’t know your name when she left.

But soon enough, she’d have no choice but to remember it.

She thought she could run.

But you’re not done with her yet.

~~~

A Few Days Later

You sit at your desk, staring at the glossy tablet in front of you. The bold headline screams back at you, accompanied by the grainy photo of you and Jiwon entering the hotel that night.

“Park Jiwon: Desperate Heiress or CEO Yoon’s Latest Fling?”

The article dances around the idea with just enough venom to sting. It paints Jiwon as a woman clinging to survival, her family’s struggling business hanging by a thread, subtly implying that she’s using you to climb her way back up.

You should have seen this coming. Hell, you did see it coming. You were the one who leaked the photo, after all. And yet, something about the way they talk about her—like she’s nothing more than a desperate opportunist—makes your jaw tighten.

Your grip on the tablet hardens before you toss it onto the desk, exhaling sharply.

The intercom buzz “Sir, your grandmother is here to see you—”.

You barely have time to let that information settle before your office door swings open without warning.

"Where are you?!"

You don't need to look up to know who it is. The sharp, authoritative voice—tinged with just enough warmth to remind you she still cares—belongs to only one person.

Your grandmother.

With Jihoon following after her.

"Do you ever knock?" you mutter, running a hand through your hair as she marches in, holding up the same tabloid you were just glaring at.

"I don't need to knock when my dear grandson's face is plastered all over the media with a young woman he's clearly trying to ruin!" she huffs, dropping the magazine onto your desk with a disapproving glare. "Care to explain, dear?"

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. "It’s just a photo. The media exaggerates everything, you know that."

Your grandmother eyes you sternly, lips pursed in that way that makes you feel like you're fifteen again, being scolded for skipping out on family dinners. "Don't play dumb with me, Dear. I taught you better than that."

Before you can offer another half-hearted excuse, her expression softens—just slightly—as she picks up the tablet and runs her fingers over Jiwon’s picture.

"This poor girl," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I remember Park Jiwon. Such a sweet child when I last saw her. Always so polite and thoughtful.” Her eyes flick back to you, sharp once more. “Unlike someone I know.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "I'm sure she’s doing just fine, Grandmother."

"Hmph," she scoffs. "Fine? With her father’s company sinking and now the press tarnishing her name?" She fixes you with a look that could cut through steel. "Tell me, dear. Did you even consider how this might affect her?"

You don't answer right away, which only makes her sigh in disappointment. "Of course you didn't. You're too busy playing your little power games to see what's right in front of you."

Your jaw tightens. "She left me, you know."

Your grandmother raises a delicate brow. "Oh, poor you. A woman left you for once in your life."

You grit your teeth. "That's not the point."

"No," she agrees, settling into the chair across from you. "The point is, you caused a scandal, and now the least you can do is take responsibility."

You arch a brow. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

She gives you a pointed look, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Marry her."

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, dear." Her tone is sweet, but there's steel beneath it. "You've already dragged her name through the mud. The decent thing to do would be to make an honest woman out of her."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "And let me guess, this has nothing to do with your constant nagging about settling down?"

"Of course it does," she says matter-of-factly, offering a saccharine smile. "But more importantly, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. She needs protection from vultures like Director Kang, and you..." She tilts her head. "You need someone who won’t let you get away with this nonsense anymore."

You exhale, pacing toward the window. Marry Jiwon? The idea should be absurd. You don’t do marriage, relationships, or anything that even remotely resembles commitment. And yet…

Your grandmother watches you closely, her voice softer now. "She's a good girl, Seojoon. And I have no doubt she can handle you."

You glance back at the photo on your desk. Jiwon, with her hesitant smile and those guarded eyes.

Maybe she could.

But claiming her—making her yours—wasn’t about saving her. It never was.

It was about something far more selfish.

You turn back to your grandmother, expression unreadable. "And if I refuse?"

She smiles knowingly. "Then I’ll do what I always do—make your life a living hell until you see reason."

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Of course you will."

"Good." She stands, smoothing out her coat with deliberate care. "Call her now. Arrange a meeting."

"Now?" You blink, surprised by her urgency.

Your grandmother gives you a pointed look. "Yes, now. Do you think I don't know you, dear?"

You lean back in your chair, stalling. "I don't even have her number."

She merely lifts a brow, unimpressed. "Then call her family."

Before you can protest, her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who straightens under the silent command. Without hesitation, he pulls out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. Within moments, he steps forward, presenting the device to you with an expectant expression.

The call screen stares back at you, one press away from dialing.

Park Conglomerate.

You glance between the phone and your grandmother, who offers you a sweet yet undeniably stern smile. "Go on, dear. I'm waiting."

You exhale slowly, your fingers hovering over the screen.

Jiwon thought she could leave quietly, slip away without a trace.

She was wrong.

~~~

Jiwon let out a tired sigh as she stepped into her bedroom, the weight of the day settling heavily on her shoulders. The soft click of the door behind her sealed her in the quiet sanctuary of her space, a brief moment of solitude she desperately needed.

She walked over to her desk, her movements slow and deliberate, fingers reaching up to remove the delicate earrings that adorned her ears. One by one, she placed them on the glass tray beside her scattered notes and half-empty coffee cups. The cool air brushed against her skin, but her mind was elsewhere.

No matter how much she tried to push it aside, the memories of that night refused to leave her mind. They clung to her like a second skin, vivid and unrelenting, replaying in her thoughts when she least expected it. She could still feel his touch—firm, demanding, yet oddly tender. The way his hands had roamed her body, possessive yet reverent, as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch of her. The heat of his lips tracing along her neck, the scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin, the way his breath had hitched when she shivered under his touch. It had been overwhelming, intoxicating, and she had been powerless to resist.

Her fingertips grazed the side of her neck absently, recalling the ghost of his touch. She could still feel the faint ache where he had marked her, the memory of his mouth on her skin sending a shiver down her spine. She shouldn’t be thinking about it, shouldn’t be replaying every stolen moment, but she was. It was as if he’d left an invisible mark that wouldn’t fade, a brand that lingered long after the night had ended.

She closed her eyes, and the images came flooding back—his body pressing against hers, the weight of him pinning her to the bed, the way his hips had moved with a rhythm that left her breathless. She could still feel the way he had filled her, the stretch and burn giving way to a pleasure so intense it had left her trembling. His voice, low and rough in her ear, murmuring words she could barely comprehend through the haze of desire. “Moan for me, Jiwon… let it all out.”

Her breath hitched as she remembered the way his hands had gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his touch both commanding and gentle. The way he had looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that had both terrified and thrilled her. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet so utterly desired. And when he had finally brought her to the edge, her body arching into his as she fell apart.

Even now, the memory of it made her pulse quicken, her skin flushing with heat. She could still feel the way his lips had claimed hers, the way his tongue had tangled with hers in a kiss that had left her dizzy. The way his hands had explored her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The way he had whispered her name, his voice rough with need, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

She shouldn’t be thinking about it. She shouldn’t be craving the feel of his hands on her skin, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the way he had made her feel so alive, so wanted. But she was. And no matter how hard she tried to push the memories away, they always came back, more vivid, more consuming than before. It was as if he had awakened something in her, something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing over her collarbone, and she could almost feel his lips following the same path, his breath hot against her skin. She bit her lip, her body betraying her as a flush of warmth spread through her. She shouldn’t be thinking about it. But she was. And she couldn’t stop.

It was just one night, she reminded herself, shaking her head as if to dispel the thoughts. A mistake.

She sighed, pulling her hair loose from its clip, letting the strands fall around her shoulders. Maybe some sleep would finally help clear her mind.

But just as she reached for her journal, a sudden, thunderous voice shattered the calm.

"JIWON!"

Her father’s voice, laced with pure, unrestrained rage, echoed through the house. The sound of her name being screamed like that sent a shiver down her spine. She barely had time to react before the heavy, relentless banging on her door followed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Open this door right now!" her father bellowed, his fists hammering against the wood with enough force to rattle it in its frame.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what had set him off this time, but deep down, she had a sinking feeling she already knew.

Swallowing hard, she took a step toward the door, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the handle.

"I said open it!" he roared again, the anger in his voice cutting through her hesitation like a knife.

Jiwon closed her eyes for a brief second, bracing herself for whatever storm was about to come crashing through that door. She inhaled shakily, steadying herself before unlocking it.

Before she could even turn the knob, the door swung open violently, slamming into her and making her stumble back.

“You fucking bitch!” Her father’s voice tore through the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

“Fa—Father…” Jiwon’s voice wavered as she tried to meet his eyes, but before she could—

Slap.

The force of his hand sent her head snapping to the side, a sharp sting blooming across her cheek.

"I raised you, and this is how you repay me?" His voice was a furious snarl. "I should have listened—I should have left you with your mother. Her filthy blood runs through you. Just like her, you're nothing but a disgrace."

Jiwon trembled, her vision blurring as tears welled in her eyes. Her mind struggled to catch up with what was happening, the shock paralyzing her.

“F-Father, wh—what? Wh-why?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear.

"Don't you dare pretend you don't know!" he roared, stepping closer, his grip seizing her wrist with crushing force. "I told you to be obedient, to marry Director Kang, and now you're out there sleeping with another man? Do you have any idea how this makes me look? How it tarnishes my company’s reputation?"

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over. “Father… I—I was mistaken, I—”

“Mistaken?!” He yanked her forward, dragging her across the entryway. “You're not my daughter anymore! You’ve humiliated me for the last time.”

“Please, Father, wait—” she sobbed, struggling against his iron grip, but he ignored her, dragging her toward the front door. The harsh fluorescent lighting above made everything feel even colder, emptier.

From the grand staircase, her stepmother watched with an unsettling calm, her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. She didn’t move, didn’t speak—just observed, as if this was nothing more than an inevitability she had been waiting for.

"You want to act like a whore? Then go and live like one!" he spat, throwing the door open and shoving her out onto the cold pavement outside. Jiwon staggered, barely catching herself before she fell.

Her father turned away without a second glance, already dismissing her existence. But her stepmother lingered.

Her stepmother stands before the gate, arms crossed, a thin smile tugging at her lips. For a moment, she simply observed, as if savoring the sight of Jiwon trembling.

Jiwon swallowed hard, lifting tearful eyes. “Mother, please…”

Her stepmother crouched gracefully, her touch deceptively gentle as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Jiwon’s ear. “Oh, Jiwon,” she sighed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “You always were so naive.”

Jiwon’s lips trembled, guilt pressing down on her chest. “I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Her stepmother smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “Of course you didn’t, dear. You never do, do you?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in mock disapproval. “But intentions don’t erase consequences.”

Jiwon looked down, shame crawling through her. “I just… I thought…”

Her stepmother's fingers tightened slightly on her chin, lifting her face. “You thought you could play in a world that doesn't belong to you,” she said softly, though there was something sharp beneath her words, something cruel. “You thought you could be reckless and not pay the price. But you’re just like your mother, aren’t you? Always chasing things beyond your reach.”

Jiwon blinked rapidly, her stepmother's words slicing through her defenses with precision. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Her stepmother laughed lightly, standing back up. “I know, dear. But mistakes like yours? They leave stains that don’t wash off easily.” She glanced at the looming gates. “You’ve embarrassed your father for the last time. It’s better this way.”

Jiwon nodded slowly, tears falling freely now. Deep down, she believed it too. This was her fault. No one else’s.

Her stepmother turned back toward the house, pausing at the threshold. She tilted her head, watching Jiwon with a smile that didn’t match the satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Jiwon,” she said sweetly, before glancing at the guards. “Close it.”

As the gates groaned shut, sealing her out, her stepmother’s voice drifted through the cold air one last time. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll convince your father to at least continue treating your mother. Someone has to think of her well-being, after all.”

She stood frozen, chest heaving, her hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her dress. The cold night air bit at her skin, her hair falling in disheveled strands around her face. Her cheek still burned from the slap, and the ache in her chest threatened to crush her.

Then, her phone vibrated in her pocket, the sudden buzz cutting through the suffocating silence. With shaking hands, she fumbled it out, her blurred vision struggling to focus on the screen.

A notification.

Breaking News: Heir of Park Conglomerate spotted with chaebol bachelor—scandal unfolds.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded violently as she stared at the photo accompanying the headline—her and him, stepping into the hotel together, the grainy image unmistakably damning.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, the cold metal trembling against her skin.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with relentless force.

She should have known better.

She should have never let herself be so reckless, so desperate for something—anything—that she thought for even a moment he could offer her.

She was the one who let him too close.

She was the one who fell for the way he touched her, the way he looked at her like she was something more than just a pawn in her father’s plans.

She was the one who let a single night ruin everything.

~~~

You watch as Jihoon dials the number, his expression calm and professional. The phone rings a few times before someone on the other end picks up.

"Hello, this is Park Group. How may I assist you?" a polite yet detached voice answers.

Jihoon leans slightly forward. "Good evening, this is Jihoon from J Group. We’d like to speak with Chairman Park regarding an important matter."

There’s a brief pause, a faint shuffle on the other end before the voice responds. "Please hold, I'll transfer you to the chairman."

Jihoon meets your eyes, giving you a subtle nod as he waits. A few seconds later, the line clicks.

"This is Chairman Park," the familiar, calculated voice filters through the speaker.

Jihoon quickly hands you the phone, his voice steady but respectful. "Sir, Chairman Park is on the line. I've introduced you as the CEO of J Group."

You take the phone, your grip firm, and bring it to your ear. "Chairman Park," you say evenly.

A brief silence, then his voice, smooth and unreadable, replies, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

“I’d like to discuss a potential marriage arrangement,” you cut straight to the point, feeling the weight of your grandmother’s gaze on you. She’s watching carefully, waiting for every word.

The line falls silent for a moment too long. Then, Chairman Park’s voice, still smooth but with an underlying note of surprise, responds. “A marriage arrangement? Isn’t this... sudden?”

You lean back in your chair, the cool surface of the desk beneath your fingertips grounding you. “Circumstances have changed. I believe it would be in both our interests to resolve this sooner rather than later.”

There’s another silence, as if the man is considering your words carefully. Then, after a pause, he speaks again. “Very well.”

You nod, though he can’t see you. “Perfect. I’ll send you the address, Lets meet there later at 8. ”

But then, you can’t help it — you have to ask. “And Jiwon?”

For a moment, the line is quiet again, and when Chairman Park responds, his tone is careful, almost rehearsed. “She’s... currently unavailable.”

You don’t let it slide. “I’d still like to speak with her.”

There’s a shift in his tone, subtle but noticeable. “She’s resting. This has been... overwhelming for her, as you can imagine.”

Your brow furrows, but you keep your voice steady. “I’d like to hear that from her myself.”

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re persistent, Don’t you think?”

“I have to be,” you reply, your grip on the phone tightening. Something doesn’t feel right.

Another pause, then, “I’m afraid Jiwon isn’t in a position to talk right now. But don’t worry, you’ll see her soon enough.”

Your eyes narrow, your instincts prickling with unease. Something isn’t adding up. You exchange a glance with your grandmother, who’s watching you closely. The unease swirling in your chest tightens.

“Understood,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s an edge to it now. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You hang up, the silence of the room heavy in the wake of the conversation. Your grandmother’s eyes are on you, sharp as ever.

“What is it?” she asks, sensing the shift in you.

You place the phone down, your fingers lingering on the edge as you stare at it. Something is wrong. The way Chairman Park avoided your questions, the way he kept circling around Jiwon’s whereabouts... you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than he’s letting on.

“So… did they agree?” your grandmother asks impatiently, her sharp eyes studying you like a hawk.

"Yeah, later at eight," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jihoon will send you the address."

She nods, satisfied for now, but you can feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on you.

You rise from your chair abruptly, already reaching for your coat. “I have to go somewhere first,” you say, your mind racing ahead.

Jihoon, standing quietly by the door, perks up at your sudden movement. His eyes flick to yours, waiting for instructions.

"Wait for my call," you add, pulling on your coat with a sense of urgency. "Just in case."

Jihoon gives a curt nod, understanding the unspoken tension in your voice. “Understood.”

You don’t wait for another word. With each step out of the office, the uneasy feeling in your chest grows heavier. Something isn’t right—Chairman Park was hiding something, and you weren’t going to sit around and find out what it was the hard way.

As you step outside, the cold air biting against your skin, one thought lingers in your mind.

Where are you, Jiwon?

~~~

Jiwon sits hunched over at the bar, her fingers trembling around the glass as she takes another sip. The alcohol burns down her throat, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in her chest. The same dim lighting, the same hushed murmurs of conversation around her—it’s almost comforting. Almost.

Her reflection stares back at her from the glossy surface of the counter, a ghost of the person she used to be. Her cheeks are swollen, a faint imprint of her father’s anger still visible against her skin. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes wrinkled and clinging to her like a bad memory. She swirls the amber liquid in her glass, biting down the sob rising in her throat.

"Rough night?" The bartender’s voice is gentle, but wary. She doesn’t look up, just nods and takes another sip.

"You sure you’re okay, miss?" he presses, his concern deepening. "You've been here a while."

Before she can answer, a voice cuts through the air from behind her. Deep, steady, and far too familiar.

"I’m with her."

Jiwon stiffens, the glass freezing midair. Her pulse quickens, the weight of his presence settling over her like an iron chain. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Of course he would find her.

“You’re here again, drinking, alone.” Your voice is soft, almost too soft—tinged with something that sounds dangerously close to concern. “I thought I told you not to do that.”

Jiwon doesn't turn around right away. She takes another slow sip, staring down into her glass as if it holds all the answers she’s desperately looking for. When she finally speaks, her voice is light, almost joking—but devoid of any real joy.

“Ah... you’re here, Mister CEO.” A dry chuckle escapes her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I should’ve known.”

She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around the glass. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen… I didn’t think someone would take a picture of us.”

Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this scandal.”

She’s blaming herself.

A slow, almost amused smile tugs at the corner of your lips. How easily she takes the fall—so eager to carry the weight of it all on those delicate shoulders. It’s almost endearing, really, how she thinks this is her doing.

She has no idea.

No idea that you’re the one who set this all in motion, that every step she’s taken has been within the palm of your hand. And yet, she looks at you with those trusting, guilt-ridden eyes, as if you’re her only lifeline.

You lean in slightly, watching her crumble, savoring the way she still believes you’re the victim here.

It’s almost too easy.

You notice the swollen redness marring her cheek, a stark contrast against her pale skin. It doesn’t take much to piece it together—who did it, why it happened. A slow, simmering anger coils in your chest, familiar and possessive. It always makes you mad when someone lays a hand on what’s yours. And this time is no different.

Your jaw tightens, but your voice remains smooth, unwavering. “Stop drinking,” you say, reaching for the half-empty glass in front of her and sliding it away. “Tidy yourself up. We have somewhere to go.”

She blinks up at you, confusion flickering through the haze in her eyes. You can tell she wants to protest, but something in your tone leaves no room for argument.

You watch as she swallows hard, her fingers trembling slightly before they reach for a napkin, dabbing at the corner of her mouth as if that alone could erase the evidence of what happened.

Good. She’s learning.

~~~

Once again, Jiwon found herself following him without hesitation, as if it were second nature. Despite everything that had happened, despite the turmoil in her heart, she couldn't fight the invisible pull he had on her. It was undeniable—an unspoken force that drew her in, compelling her to trust him when she knew she shouldn’t.

He led her to his car and slid in first without a word, his presence commanding in its quiet intensity. With a simple gesture, he motioned for her to join him. And she did. She settled into the passenger seat, her pulse thrumming in her ears, a heavy silence stretching between them.

As he reached for his phone, his voice cut through the stillness, sharp and composed. “Jihoon, get me a dress for a lady. I’ll wait by the lot behind the office.” His tone was cool, effortless—like he was always in control.

A brief pause followed, then his eyes flickered to her, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. “As for sizes…” he trailed off, clearly expecting her to respond.

Caught off guard, Jiwon’s cheeks flushed. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Um… I’m a small. My measurements are…” She hesitated before murmuring the numbers, feeling an odd sense of vulnerability under his unwavering gaze.

He listened in silence, his expression giving nothing away. With a curt nod, he relayed the details to Jihoon and ended the call.

The hum of the engine filled the air, the steady rhythm amplifying the tension between them. Jiwon sat stiffly, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her thoughts racing. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting, but she kept her eyes fixed outside the window, watching the blur of city lights pass by.

A quiet sigh escaped him, breaking the stillness. She risked a glance in his direction, anxiety coiling in her chest. Was he disappointed? Angry? The uncertainty gnawed at her, making the silence feel suffocating.

The drive stretched on, each passing moment only deepening the questions swirling in her mind. Her fingers toyed nervously with her coat, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

When they finally pulled into the parking lot, Jiwon held her breath. He parked but didn’t move, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. The silence thickened, settling heavily between them.

Stealing another glance at him, she found him staring into the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable—watching, waiting.

“Why are we here?” she asked, her voice fragile, barely a whisper. Her eyes stayed on the dashboard, afraid of what she might see in his face. “Why did you bring me here?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally turned to her. His gaze was steady, piercing. “You looked like you needed somewhere to go,” he said simply.

Jiwon swallowed, her fingers trembling as she gripped her coat tighter. “I… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she murmured. “I just… didn’t know where else to go.”

His eyes lingered on her, the weight of his silence making her stomach twist. Then, after a moment, he reached out—his fingers grazing the back of her hand, a touch so light it sent a shiver through her. “You’re not trouble,” he said, his voice softer now, laced with something unfamiliar. “But you shouldn’t be out there alone. Not like this.”

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t have anywhere else,” she admitted, voice breaking. “My father… he…”

She couldn’t finish. The memory of his harsh words, the sting of his slap, still clung to her like a shadow. But she didn’t have to say it—he already knew.

His jaw clenched, a dark flicker in his gaze. “Your father’s a fool,” he said flatly, leaving no room for argument. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jiwon blinked, caught off guard by the quiet anger simmering beneath his words. She had expected indifference, maybe even judgment—but not this. Not the fierce protectiveness lurking behind his calm demeanor.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered. “I never thought… I never thought someone would take a picture of us. I didn’t think it would turn into this.”

He studied her intently, as if searching for something beneath the surface. Then, with a slow exhale, he leaned back, his hand still lightly resting against hers. “It’s not your fault,” he said, voice steady but resolute. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. “But I did,” she murmured. “I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have—”

He cut her off with a touch—gentle but firm as his fingers brushed her cheek. The warmth of it burned through the cold she felt inside. “You don’t have to be careful with me,” he said, his tone unwavering. “Not anymore.”

Jiwon’s breath caught. The way he looked at her—dark, possessive, and yet… protective—made her feel things she couldn’t quite name. Things she wasn’t sure she should feel.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, voice trembling. “Why do you care?”

His eyes never wavered from hers, his expression serious. “Because you’re mine,” he said, the words carrying a quiet intensity that left no room for doubt. “And I don’t let anyone take what’s mine.”

A shiver ran down her spine. There was something about the way he said it—calm, certain, as if it was an undeniable truth. She wasn’t sure whether to feel terrified or safe.

Before she could find the words to respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the lot. Jihoon emerged from the shadows, a garment bag draped over his arm and a pair of heels in hand.

He offered a polite, reassuring smile as he handed the items through the open window. “Here you go,” he said, his tone light but professional. “I think you’ll like it.”

Jiwon hesitated before taking the bag, her hands trembling slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Jihoon nodded, his gaze briefly flickering toward the man beside her before stepping back. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, the respect in his voice unmistakable.

As he walked away, Jiwon turned back to him, her heart still racing. “What… what is this for?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

His eyes met hers, unwavering. “Dinner,” he said simply. “With your father.”

Jiwon’s breath stilled, and she clutched the garment bag tightly, the soft fabric crinkling under her trembling fingers. “Dinner?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “With my father?”

He gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable yet strangely reassuring. “Yes,” he said, his tone even. “To discuss our upcoming marriage.”

Jiwon froze, her lips parting in shock. “M-Marriage?” she stammered, her wide eyes searching his face for some hint of a joke. But there was none. His expression remained calm, composed—completely serious.

“Yes,” he repeated smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s the next logical step, don’t you think?”

Jiwon shook her head slowly, disbelief washing over her. “I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why would you—why would we…?”

He leaned back slightly, watching her with that same steady gaze that always made her feel like he was ten steps ahead of her. “Because it’s what’s best for you,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Your father will listen to reason if he knows you’re in good hands.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could barely form the words. “But we’re not… we’re not really…”

His lips curled into a faint smile, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Not yet,” he said, tilting his head as if considering something. “But we could be. It’s a solution to your problems, Jiwon. You’ll have security, protection—everything you need.”

Jiwon’s fingers clenched the garment bag tighter, her mind racing. Everything about this felt overwhelming, too sudden, too unreal. She barely even knew what to say. “But marriage isn’t something you can just—just decide like this.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, laced with quiet persuasion. “I’m not forcing you,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “But think about it. No more running, no more uncertainty. Your father will have no reason to push you away anymore.”

Jiwon swallowed hard, her thoughts swirling in chaos. She had spent so long feeling lost, unwanted—always fighting to prove herself. And here he was, offering a way out, a way to fix everything, even if it felt… too easy. Too perfect.

“I…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away, staring down at the fabric in her lap. “It just feels… so sudden.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Life rarely waits for us to catch up, Jiwon.” He reached out, his fingers grazing the back of her hand, sending a shiver up her spine. “Trust me. This is the right move.”

Her heart fluttered at his touch, her mind screaming at her to think, to question—but all she could feel was the steady pull he had over her, the way his words made everything seem so inevitable.

“I need to think,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

He nodded, as if he had already expected that. “Of course. Take your time,” he said smoothly. “But tonight, just come to dinner. Let your father see that you're not alone.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn't trust herself to argue anymore. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl.” His smile was small but satisfied, and Jiwon couldn’t help but feel like she had just taken a step onto a path she didn’t fully understand.

“Where… where should I change?” she asked hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror as if he were barely paying attention. “Here,” he said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. “You’re not walking through the building like that, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the garment bag as she sat in the passenger seat. The air in the car felt heavy, charged with a tension she couldn’t quite place. He had told her to change right there, in the front seat, and though his tone had been indifferent at first, something about the way he’d said it made her pulse quicken.

“Here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks already burning at the thought.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel, his expression unreadable. “Unless you’d rather walk through the building like that,” he said, his tone calm, almost bored. “Your choice.”

Jiwon hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced down at her wrinkled clothes, the faint scent of alcohol still clinging to her. He was right—she couldn't be seen like this and she couldn’t exactly walk into the dinner looking like this. But the idea of changing in the car, with him just inches away, made her stomach twist with nervousness.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. She unzipped the garment bag, her fingers fumbling as she pulled out the dress. It was a soft pink, simple but elegant, with delicate straps and a fitted silhouette. She glanced at him again, but he wasn’t looking at her his eyes were fixed on the windshield, his expression detached.

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she began to undress. She slipped off her coat first, then her shoes, her movements careful but hurried. She could feel the weight of his presence beside her, calm and steady, but there was something about the way he was sitting his jaw tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel that made her heart race.

When she began to unbutton her blouse, she felt it the shift in the air. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but then she heard it: the faintest intake of breath, the softest rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.

Her heart skipped a beat, her hands freezing mid-motion. She glanced at him, her cheeks burning as she realized his gaze was no longer fixed on the windshield.

His eyes were on her now, dark and intense, and there was something in his expression something heated, almost predatory that made her stomach twist.

“I… I thought you weren’t going to look,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he finally spoke. “I wasn’t,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you make it difficult not to.”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes something possessive, almost hungry that made her stomach twist with a mix of fear and something else she couldn’t quite name. She should protest, should demand he look away, but the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered made it impossible to think clearly.

Her fingers trembled as she finished unbuttoning her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the seat beside her. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and unrelenting, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She reached for the dress, her hands shaking as she pulled it over her head, the soft fabric sliding over her skin. She adjusted the straps, smoothing out the material as it hugged her figure, her cheeks burning under his intense scrutiny.

When she was done, she glanced at him, her breath catching in her throat as she realized he was still watching her, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place. And then she noticed it—the unmistakable tent in his pants, the evidence of his desire impossible to ignore.

Her heart raced, her mind spinning as she stared at him. The words had slipped out before she could cage them—reckless, impulsive, charged with a heat she hadn’t meant to unleash. “I… I could help you with that.”

The moment the words left her lips, her entire body froze. His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and molten, like embers flaring to life. She backtracked immediately, panic fraying her voice.

“I—I just meant… it looks uncomfortable. You’re clearly… struggling. And I—I might’ve caused that, right? Because of the way I… undressed. We’ve already done it before, so it’s not… and if we do get married, we’ll have to… anyway, so—”

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes darkening as they raked over her—the flushed cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of her pink dress. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.

“Caused this?” he repeated, his voice rougher now, thumb brushing the edge of the steering wheel. “You think you did this?” His gaze dropped pointedly to the strained fabric of his slacks, then back to her face. “Are you that confident in what you do to me, Jiwon?”

She swallowed, her pulse thrumming wildly. “N-no! I just—I thought—”

“And if we marry,” he cut in, leaning closer, his breath grazing her ear, “we’ll ‘have to do this anyway’?” His hand settled on her thigh, warm and deliberate. “Define this. What exactly are you volunteering for?”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her skin burning beneath his touch. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“You’re talking in circles,” he murmured, fingers tightening slightly on her leg. “But I’ll admit… your eagerness is… interesting.”

The low, graveled edge to his voice sent a shiver through her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted, his tone shifting to a warning—one layered with barely restrained hunger.

“Careful,” he said, his thumb tracing idle circles on her thigh. “You keep offering things you don’t understand. You might regret it.”

But Jiwon, emboldened by the flicker of heat in his eyes, doubled down. “I’m not wrong,” she insisted, lifting her chin. “You said it yourself—I’m yours. So… so this is part of that, isn’t it?”

For a heartbeat, he stared at her, his composure cracking just enough to reveal the hunger beneath. A rough laugh escaped him, his grip on her thigh tightening as he pulled her closer.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “But since you’re so determined…” He released her, gesturing vaguely toward his lap, his gaze never leaving hers. “Show me what you’re offering.”

Jiwon’s courage wavered. Her earlier bravado dissolved into shaky uncertainty as she stared at the evidence of his arousal, her mouth suddenly dry. “I… I don’t… How do I…?”

He leaned back, his smile sharp and thrillingly dangerous. “You started this,” he said, his voice a velvet command. “Finish it.”

Jiwon’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the waistband of his slacks, her breath shallow and uneven. His gaze never wavered, a silent dare burning in his eyes as she fumbled with the zipper, the sound obscenely loud in the charged silence. When she finally tugged his pants and underwear down just enough to free his length, her throat went dry. He was thick, already fully hard, and the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

She hesitated, her palm hovering inches away, until his voice cut through the tension—low, edged with impatience. “Don’t stop now.”

Her first touch was tentative, her fingers wrapping around him with unsure pressure. A sharp inhale escaped him, his jaw clenching, and she froze. But when his hand slid into her hair, not pushing, just anchoring, she took it as permission. Slowly, she began to stroke him, her movements awkward at first, her thumb brushing clumsily over the head.

His reaction was immediate—a low groan, his hips jerking faintly upward into her grip. Emboldened, she tightened her fingers, finding a rhythm that made his breath hitch. She chanced a glance at his face and nearly faltered at what she saw: his head tilted back against the seat, eyes half-lidded but blazing, lips parted as ragged breaths slipped free.

He’s letting go. The realization sent a thrill through her, her own arousal spiking as she watched him unravel. Her strokes grew bolder, her free hand braced against his thigh for balance, her thumb swiping over the slickness beading at his tip.

“Jiwon.” Her name was a growl, a warning and a plea.

She didn’t stop. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath ghosting over his skin as her lips brushed the hollow of his throat. His hand tightened in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to force her to meet his gaze.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his voice fraying at the edges.

She obeyed, her strokes slowing as she watched him—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when she twisted her wrist, the muscle fluttering in his jaw as he fought to keep still. A dark, unfamiliar pride bloomed in her chest. She did this. She reduced him to this—a man of calculated control, now gripping the steering wheel like it might snap under his restraint.

Her own need coiled tighter, her thighs pressing together as she worked him faster, spurred on by the raw hunger in his eyes. She could feel him thickening in her hand, his hips rolling upward to meet her strokes, his breath coming in sharp, fractured bursts.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his free hand sliding down to grip her wrist, not to stop her, but to guide her, his thumb pressing over hers to adjust her rhythm. “Just like that.”

The praise ignited something reckless in her. She leaned in again, her lips grazing his ear. “Do you… like this?” she whispered, the question trembling with a boldness she didn’t recognize.

His laugh was a dark, shattered sound. “You’ll know when I do.”

“Move”

~~~

Your voice cuts through the charged air, rough and strained, and Jiwon freezes. Her wide, innocent eyes blink up at you, her lips parted in that soft, questioning way that makes something dark coil tighter in your gut. You watch the confusion flicker across her face—unsure, hesitant—but she obeys.

Slowly, cautiously, she shifts, her touch lingering a moment too long before she pulls her hand away. The absence of her warmth makes your jaw clench, your control hanging by a thread. She’s always so careful, so sweet, and it drives you fucking insane.

You guide her, hands firm on her waist, positioning her until she’s straddling you. Her knees press into the seat on either side of your thighs, her trembling fingers finding tentative purchase on your shoulders. Her breathing is unsteady, shallow, her cheeks flushed pink under the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the windshield.

“Like this?” she whispers, voice uncertain, a quiet vulnerability lacing her tone.

Your hands tighten on her hips, grounding yourself in the softness of her curves, in the way she feels so small beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you rasp, letting your thumbs stroke slow, lazy circles into her skin. “Just like that.”

You can feel the tension in her muscles, the way she holds herself so carefully, afraid of doing something wrong. But you don’t want careful. You don’t want hesitant.

You want her.

With a slow, deliberate pull, you drag her down, pressing her against the hard, aching length of you. Her breath hitches sharply, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she feels just how much you want this—how much you need her.

“You feel that?” you murmur, voice low, dangerous against the shell of her ear. “This is what you do to me, Jiwon.”

She swallows hard, her body trembling slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts, pressing down tentatively, testing the friction, the heat, and fuck, you feel it in your bones.

“Good girl,” you breathe, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them, and the way she reacts—the way she melts against you—makes your blood run hotter.

Her fingers clutch at your shirt, unsure, unsteady, and you can’t help the way your hands slide up her sides, over her ribs, until you’re cupping her face, forcing her to look at you. “You wanted to help me, don’t you?”

She nods without hesitation, her lips parting in a breathless, “Yes.”

That one word sends something primal surging through you, and your grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who’s in control.

“Then move for me,” you say, the command firm, unrelenting.

Jiwon hesitates for the barest second before she obeys, shifting in your lap, rocking against you with shy, uncertain motions that drive you fucking wild. She’s so soft, so eager, and the way she bites down on her lip, trying to hold back those sweet little noises, makes your restraint slip another inch.

“That’s it,” you murmur, one hand slipping down to guide her, helping her find the right rhythm. “Just like that, baby.”

Her breathing stutters, and she clings to you tighter, her forehead resting against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I— I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admits in a whisper, and the innocence in her voice nearly undoes you.

You smirk, your hands roaming lower, gripping her ass, pulling her closer, grinding her against you until she gasps. “You’re learning,” you murmur, lips brushing against her temple. “And you’re doing so fucking good.”

She shivers, pressing closer, and you can feel the heat pooling between her thighs, the dampness seeping through the thin fabric of her underwear. It takes everything in you not to rip it off, not to flip her over and take everything she’s offering. But you hold back. Barely.

Instead, you let her explore, let her take what she needs. You can feel her pulse racing, feel the anticipation thrumming between you both like a live wire.

“Keep going,” you urge, your hands steady on her hips, guiding, controlling. “I want to feel you.”

And she does. Slowly at first, then with more confidence, grinding against you in slow, teasing rolls that make your grip tighten, your breath grow ragged. She’s needy, desperate in a way she doesn’t quite understand yet, but you do. And you’ll teach her.

You lean in, dragging your lips down the side of her throat, feeling the way she shivers beneath you. “You like this, don’t you?” you whisper, your tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just below her ear. “You like how I feel against you.”

She nods frantically, pressing harder, her soft whimpers filling the small space of the car.

You chuckle darkly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “That’s my girl.”

Her fingers tighten in your hair, and she’s moving faster now, desperate, lost in it, in you. Your grip on her hips turns bruising, guiding her harder, deeper, until the friction becomes unbearable.

“Jiwon,” you groan, your forehead resting against hers, sweat beading at your temples. “You’re gonna drive me fucking crazy.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her lips grazing yours, hesitant, teasing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You grin against her mouth, your hands slipping beneath her dress, fingers teasing along the edge of her panties. “Yeah,” you murmur. “It is.”

Then, without warning, you flip her onto her back against the seat, pinning her beneath you, your weight pressing down until there’s nowhere for her to go—nowhere for her to hide.

Her eyes widen, lips parting in a soft gasp, but there’s no fear. Only trust.

And that’s all the permission you need.

You press her down into the seat, your weight settling over her like a promise. Jiwon's breath comes in soft, shaky pants, her eyes wide, searching yours, but you see it—the need, the anticipation trembling just beneath the surface of her innocence. You slide your hands under her dress, bunching the fabric up to her waist, revealing the soft curves of her thighs, the damp heat pressing against you through the thin scrap of lace she calls underwear.

"You're already soaked," you murmur, dragging a finger along the slickness pooling between her thighs, feeling her shudder. "How long have you been waiting for this, Jiwon?"

She turns her face to the side, cheeks flushed, biting her lip in that way that drives you insane. "I... I don't know," she whispers, but the way she shifts beneath you, pressing up into your touch, tells a different story.

"Liar," you smirk, pushing her panties aside, letting the heat of her bare skin sear into your palm. You slide a finger inside her without warning, feeling her clench around you, tight, warm, perfect. Her sharp intake of breath is loud—too loud.

Your hand clamps over her mouth instantly, fingers digging into her jaw. "Quiet," you warn, your voice low, dark. "Do you want someone to hear us?"

She shakes her head frantically, her wide eyes meeting yours, but you don't miss the way her thighs tighten around your hand, the way her walls flutter around your fingers like she’s excited by the risk.

You chuckle softly, a dark, knowing sound, and you lean in, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You like it, don't you?" you whisper, curling your fingers inside her, teasing that spot that makes her squirm. "The thought of someone catching you like this... spread open, taking my fingers, my cock."

She whimpers against your palm, her hips rocking helplessly against your hand. You remove your hand from her mouth, trailing it down her body, savoring the way she trembles beneath you.

"I— I don't..." she tries to deny it, but the words come out shaky, uncertain. You drag your cock along her slit, coating yourself in her slickness, and her breath catches. "Please..."

"Please what, Jiwon?" you murmur, pressing against her entrance, teasing, not giving her what she wants just yet.

She swallows hard, her hands clutching at your shoulders. "Please... don't tease me," she whispers, voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and something she doesn't quite understand yet.

You smirk, pushing inside her in one slow, relentless thrust, watching her eyes widen, her lips parting on a silent cry. She's so tight, so wet, and you groan, feeling her squeeze around you like she's trying to keep you inside forever.

"God, you're gripping me so tight," you growl, your hands sliding down to her hips, holding her still. "You're lucky it's me and not someone else, Jiwon. Someone who wouldn't be so careful with you."

Her nails dig into your back, her walls fluttering around you in response, and you feel it—that dark thrill, the way her body reacts before her mind can catch up.

Then—headlights.

A sudden beam sweeps through the windshield, cutting across Jiwon's flushed skin, illuminating the scene in stark, undeniable clarity. She freezes beneath you, her body going stiff, and for a moment, neither of you move, the tension thick, suffocating.

But then—then.

You feel it.

Her walls clamp down on you, a strangled moan slipping from her lips before she can stop it. The realization hits you hard, a wicked grin curling at your lips as you lean down, your breath hot against her ear.

"You like this," you whisper, rolling your hips slowly, deliberately, dragging a ragged gasp from her throat. "The idea of being seen... being watched."

"I—" She shakes her head, but her nails scrape against your skin, and her hips move on their own, rocking against you.

"Liar," you murmur again, biting down gently on her neck, feeling the way she squirms beneath you. "Look at you, clenching around me so tight. Are you dripping because you're scared, or because you want them to see what a good little wife you are?"

She whimpers, her face turning away in shame, but you catch her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "Tell me, Jiwon," you demand, thrusting deep, slow, pulling another gasp from her. "Would you let them watch? Let them see how I ruin you?"

She shakes her head frantically, but the way her body tightens, the way her thighs tremble against yours, tells you the truth.

"You would," you chuckle darkly, dragging your cock out slowly before slamming back in, making her arch under you. "You'd let them see how desperate you are for me."

"Stop," she pleads, but there's no real conviction in her voice, just raw, trembling need.

You lean down, your lips brushing hers. "Make me," you challenge, your thrusts growing rougher, deeper, filling her completely.

She doesn't. She can't. She's lost in it now, lost in you, her legs wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you deeper, harder.

"You feel so good," you groan, dragging a hand up her body to cup her breast, teasing the sensitive peak. "You were made for this, Jiwon. Made for me."

Her whimpers grow louder, her grip desperate, and you clamp a hand over her mouth again. "Shh," you murmur, your pace relentless. "Unless you want them to hear you."

She moans against your palm, her body trembling violently beneath you, and you feel it—she's close, right on the edge, teetering.

"Come for me," you rasp, thrusting hard, deep, hitting that spot that makes her eyes roll back. "Show me how much you love this."

Her body tenses, and with a muffled cry, she shatters around you, her walls gripping you like a vice, pulling you deeper into her heat. The tight squeeze, the raw desperation, it's too much—your own release hits you like a freight train, a guttural groan ripping from your throat as you spill inside her, holding her close, buried deep.

For a moment, neither of you move, the only sound filling the car is your ragged breathing, the creak of the leather seat beneath you, and the distant hum of the city.

Jiwon slumps against you, trembling, her body still pulsing around you in the aftershocks. Your hands stay firm on her hips, grounding her, keeping her in place.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," you whisper against her damp skin, smirking when she doesn't respond, just clings to you tighter.

For a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the way she fits against you, the way she’s still trying to catch her breath. But then your eyes flicker to the dashboard, and a low curse slips from your lips.

“Shit.”

Jiwon stirs slightly, dazed and blissed out. “Hmm?”

You run a hand down your face, frustration simmering beneath the lingering heat of your release. “The dinner. Your parents.”

Her entire body stiffens against you, her eyes snapping open in alarm. “Oh my God.”

You grin darkly, smoothing your hands over her hips. “Yeah. We’re very late.”

The drive to the dinner is quiet, the hum of the engine a dull counterpoint to the chaos in your head. You keep your eyes on the road, grip tight on the steering wheel, but you feel her. Always her.

Jiwon sits beside you, radiating a warmth that’s annoying in its persistence. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch it—the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers trace idle patterns on her thigh, the faint, stupid smile she’s trying to hide. It makes your jaw clench. She’s glowing, soft and satisfied, like she’s just been given something precious instead of fucked raw in a parking lot.

Pathetic.

But then her hand drifts toward yours, tentative, brushing your knuckles. You stiffen. “What?” you snap, sharper than intended.

She flinches, but doesn’t retreat. “Can I… hold your hand?”

The question is so absurd, so ordinary, you nearly laugh. But her eyes—wide, hopeful, still hazy with whatever delusion she’s spinning—stop you. You should refuse. Should remind her this isn’t a romance. But the memory of her body clenching around you, desperate and yours, lingers like a brand.

“Fine,” you mutter, relenting. “If you need to cling.”

Her fingers slip into yours, soft and trusting, and you hate how your pulse jumps. You tell yourself it’s a reward. A leash. Let her have this small comfort, if it keeps her pliant for what’s coming.

She squeezes gently, and you squeeze back—harder, a warning. Mine.

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head against the window, that damned smile still playing on her lips.

You don’t answer. Instead, you focus on the road, on the cold calculus of the dinner ahead. Let her dream. Let her think this changes anything.

But when you pull up to the restaurant, her hand still in yours, you don’t let go. Not yet.

~~~

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant, Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers still entwined with his. The steady warmth of his hand had been her anchor throughout the drive, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. But as the valet opened her door, reality crashed back in, sharp and unforgiving. She pulled her hand away instinctively, smoothing the fabric of her dress in a futile attempt to steady herself.

Stepping out, the towering entrance of the restaurant loomed before her, an imposing reminder of what awaited inside. The mere thought of facing her father—her stepmother—sent an uneasy twist through her stomach.

She lingered by the car, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. He noticed.

With a quiet sigh, he reached out, his palm open in silent reassurance.

“Jiwon,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady. “Come here.”

Her eyes flickered to his hand, uncertainty clouding her expression. “I—”

“You’ll be fine.” His tone softened, but there was an undeniable firmness beneath it. “I’m right here.”

After a beat, she swallowed hard and placed her hand back in his. His fingers curled around hers, firm and unwavering, and the tension coiled in her chest loosened—just a little.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, leading her forward with the quiet confidence she envied. “Just stay close to me,” he said smoothly, as if his presence alone could shield her from everything that lay ahead.

Jiwon nodded, clutching his hand tighter as they stepped through the grand entrance. Inside, the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses faded into the background, overshadowed by the looming confrontation she could feel brewing.

The hostess greeted them with a polite nod before guiding them toward the private dining room. As the door swung open, Jiwon’s heart faltered.

The room was elegant, the chandelier above casting a warm glow over the meticulously arranged table. His grandmother sat at the head, a pillar of quiet authority. At the sight of them entering together, her lips curved ever so slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing her face.

Her father and stepmother, however, were not so welcoming.

Jiwon’s father’s expression shifted—shock flickering across his usually impassive features before his gaze hardened into something sharper, more calculating. Her stepmother, ever composed, maintained a careful smile, but Jiwon didn’t miss the way her fingers tensed against the table’s edge.

They hadn’t expected her to come. More importantly, they hadn’t expected for her to come with him.

A fleeting sense of satisfaction sparked in her chest, only to be replaced by the crushing weight of their stares.

Jiwon’s grip on his hand faltered, uncertainty creeping in. Had this been a mistake?

As they stepped further inside, the atmosphere thickened with unspoken expectations. Conversations stilled, glasses set down mid-motion.

Jiwon forced a nervous smile, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Ah, um…” she started, her voice catching in her throat. “Father, Mother, I—” She glanced toward him, as if drawing strength. “This is—”

And then it happened.

The shift.

His demeanor changed in an instant. The warmth that had reassured her moments ago disappeared, replaced by a cold, unrelenting presence.

His gaze fixed on her stepmother with a sharp, unwavering intensity, and the sudden chill in the air made Jiwon’s pulse stutter. The hand that had held hers so gently now felt like a distant memory.

Without thinking, she withdrew her fingers, instinctively retreating from the invisible force radiating from him.

Her throat tightened as she stole a glance at him. Gone was the composed man who had whispered reassurances in the car; in his place stood someone far colder, far more dangerous.

Her father’s voice sliced through the silence. “You’re late.”

Jiwon stiffened at the weight of his disapproval, but beside her, he remained unmoved, his gaze locked on her stepmother with a simmering fury that made her insides twist.

He didn’t need to say a word—his presence alone sent a message clear enough.

Jiwon swallowed, suddenly feeling like an outsider in her own family’s presence.

Maybe… maybe she shouldn’t have come.

Part 3 -->

[itneverendshere]

Could you please write btchy!pogue where shes the one whos jealous this time and rafe savors the moment.

don't like the way she's looking - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x raf

the cut had a party tonight, like most summer nights.

the music was loud enough to shake the ground, beer kegs were getting drained faster than anyone could fill them, and people packed into the yard like sardines. 

it wasn’t fancy, but that was the point, pogue parties weren’t about appearances, you showed up, you drank, you made some bad decisions under the string lights, and you went home.

it wasn’t your favorite kind of night, but rafe had convinced you to come out, promising it’d just be a chill hangout. he lied.

instead of spending the night with you, he’s currently perched by his truck, surrounded by a rotating cast of pogues. you’re leaning against a beat-up picnic table, a half-warm beer in your hand, keeping one eye on rafe while he did his thing. 

by “his thing,” you mean selling weed to every pogue with a crumpled-up twenty and a dream.

to his credit, this is probably his best hustle yet.

rafe cameron, reformed asshole, and your probationary boyfriend, has somehow turned himself into the cut’s go-to dealer. it’s a whole thing, people like him now, which is fine. 

good for him, whatever, but some people like him a little too much. 

case in point? the girl currently throwing herself at him like a damn frisbee. you clocked her the second she strutted over. 

she wasn’t subtle about it, either—crop top hanging so low she might as well not have bothered, denim shorts so short they were illegal in some states. she’s leaning against his truck, like she’s in some fuck ass music video, her body language loud and clear. it’s the hand on his arm that does it for you. 

that, and her laugh. 

jesus, her laugh. high-pitched and fake, like a dying bird trying to flirt.

you’ve been rolling your eyes from the second she started talking, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. 

“you’re really good at this whole business thing, huh? bet you’re good at lots of things.”

you gag audibly from your spot, but of course, she doesn’t hear you. 

rafe, for his part, looks mildly amused but doesn’t say anything. still, you stay put, you’re not here to play babysitter. he’s not that stupid—he’ll shut her down. 

he better.

her next move is placing her hand on his arm. on. his. arm.

like she isn’t aware that his girlfriend is sitting fifteen feet away, the audacity. she’s batting her lashes and laughing at something he says like he’s the funniest guy alive, and you can see his shoulders stiffen, the slight step back he takes when she puts her hands on him.

“so, like,” she giggles, twirling a piece of hair around her finger, “what if i can’t, you know... pay in cash? ’m sure we could work something else out?”

rafe’s reaction is immediate, “i have a girlfriend.”

“oh,” her pout deepens. “that’s fine. she doesn’t have to know.”

at that, he laughs—an incredulous, slightly panicked laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “yeah, see, that’s not gonna work for me.”

she doesn’t take the hint. 

instead, she tilts her head, giving him what you’re sure she thinks it’s a seductive look. “c'mon, rafe. it’s just a little fun, bet she wouldn’t even care.”

you freeze mid-sip of your beer, brain short-circuiting.

you slam it down on the table so hard it splashes everywhere, your vision zeroing in on her like a predator spotting prey. you’re halfway across the yard before you realize you’re moving.

oh, you care, you care a lot.

rafe’s already holding his hands up like he’s trying to ward her off. “don’t know what you think is happening here, but it’s not. i’m not interested.”

“not interested in me?” she asks, like the idea is physically painful.

“correct,” you announce loudly, “he’s not interested. crazy, right?”

she squares her shoulders and glares at you. “who are you?”

“hi, i’m the girlfriend” you shoot back, “just wondering if you’re planning on embarrassing yourself any more tonight or if that’s it?”

rafe rubs the back of his neck, looking between amused and mildly terrified, “baby—”

“don’t ‘baby’ me, cameron,” you snap, shooting him a glare before turning your attention back to the girl. she’s still standing there, trying to figure out if she should fight or flight.

smart money would’ve been on flight, but apparently, she’s the stubborn type.

she smirks, seemingly not the least bit fazed by you. “pogues share.”

“how about i share this fist with your face? that sound good to you?”

she whips around, her fake-confident expression faltering “uh, excuse me?”

“you heard me,” you only stop a foot from her. your hands are on your hips, ready to pounce if she even thinks about mouthing off one more time. “can’t you take a fucking hint, or are you just dumb?”

“i didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” she rolls her eyes.

“everyone here knows he’s with me, you just thought you’d try it anyway, didn’t you?”

“it’s not that deep,” she shrugs, her voice going fake casual. “it’s just rafe. pogues share—what’s the big deal? you’re overreacting.”

rafe winces, stepping back as if to give you space to handle it. good, he knew better than to get in your way.

“you wanna find out how much more i can react? i’m feeling real generous tonight.”

her mouth opens to say something even dumber, but you’re already pouncing , not even thinking—your body just reacts.

“whoa, whoa, whoa!” rafe’s arms are suddenly around you, yanking you before you can do any real damage “okay, we’re going home.”

“i’ll punch you too,” you hiss, squirming in his grip. “let me hit her.”

he only holds you tighter against his chest when you try to kick out at her. “baby, come on.”

“this bitch said pogues share!’” you cram your neck to glare at her over rafe’s shoulder. “i just wanna share some sense with her.”

she’s already backing away, her hands up in surrender, “okay, whatever, no dick is worth dealing with a crazy bitch. ’m leaving!” she snaps, turning on her heel.

rafe’s grip lightens up slightly, thinking this is enough to calm you down, but unfortunately for him, you take it as a chance to get what you want. as soon as he lets you lose, you take one giant step forward and grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her back just as she tries to escape.

"get your ass back here," you growl, tugging her head back.

“jesus christ,” rafe’s eyes widen and he’s there, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind once again, pulling you back. “baby, let her go!”

she lets out a surprised squeal, trying to pull away, but you’ve got a grip on her so tight she can’t. “what the hell is wrong with you?!” she screeches, hands desperately trying to pry your fingers from her hair.

“okay, you’ve made your point,” he chuckles despite the situation, “let go of her hair.”

you release her, but not without one last, satisfying shove to her back. she stumbles, glaring at you over her shoulder with her hand pressed to her scalp.

“keep your hands to yourself next time,” you warn with a sneer.

she glares at you, and opens her mouth like she’s about to start some more shit—but then she seems to think better of it. with a huff, she turns on her heel and stalks off, her footsteps retreating into the crowd.

rafe stands there, rubbing his neck nervously as he watches her go. “you’re gonna get arrested one day, y’know that, right?”

you look up at him, eyebrow raised, a smirk curling at the corner of your lips. “and you’re gonna get your balls ripped off and be single for the rest of your life. how’s that sound?”

his mouth falls open as he stares at you.

“what? i’m innocent! i didn’t do shit. you just went wwe smackdown on her. i was standing there, minding my business.”

“minding your business while she was all over you?” you challenge, “she was practically trying to crawl inside your skin.”

“told her i wasn’t interested!” he defends, throwing his hands up. “even used the line— i have a girlfriend! that’s...the ultimate force field!”

you snort, crossing your arms. “she walked right through it like it wasn’t even there.”

rafe sighs dramatically, stepping closer, his voice dropping, that little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “gotta admit, that was kinda hot.”

you narrow your eyes at him, trying not to let his charm sway you. “hot?”

“yeah,” he grins, “watching you go full psycho really does something for me.”

you can feel your lips twitching upward despite yourself. “you’re such a fuckin’ loser.”

“am i wrong, though?” he teases, slipping his arms around you, his lips tickling your ear as he adds, “never felt more horny—or scared—in my life.”

you huff a laugh, shoving at his chest playfully, “stop trying to make me laugh, i’m mad at you.”

“you’re mad at me?” he leans in impossibly closer, pulling you flush against him.

“rafe—” you start, but he’s already tilting his head, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

“mm, y’know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “i like you mad. all fired up, it’s sexy.”

“don’t even,” you warn, hoping you sound firm, but it’s hard to when he’s trailing slow kisses down your neck, the press of his mouth sending shivers straight to your toes.

he doesn’t stop, of course. his kisses get sloppier, his lips parting so his tongue can flick against the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

“can’t help it,” he groans in between his work, nipping at your skin. “my girl’s too fucking hot.”

your hands come up to push at his chest, but they end up curling into his shirt instead. “i’m so fucking serious. you can’t sweet-talk your way out of this.”

“m’not sweet-talking,” he slurs, teeth grazing your skin, followed by the soothing heat of his tongue, and you gasp despite yourself. “just... appreciating you. can’t a guy admire his girlfriend after she defended his honor?” he bites down and then sucks at the spot until you’re squirming in his arms. “got me so gone for you, shit, it’s embarrassing.”

“good,” you mutter stubbornly, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

he practically purrs at the contact, his lips dragging down to your collarbone. “you’ve ruined me, y’know that? can’t even look at another girl.”

you laugh, your grip tightening in his hair. “keep talking, cameron. see how far that gets you.”

he grins against your skin, his teeth scraping lightly before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. his hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you up like you weigh nothing and setting you on the edge of the picnic table.

“guess i’ll just have to show you instead.”

"rafe cameron," you start, intending to scold him, but your words stop in your throat as he steps between your legs.

“now you’re quiet,” he’s leaning in so close his nose brushes against yours. “where’d all that fire go, mm?”

your glare is half-hearted at best. “don’t push your luck, you’re still on probation, asshole.”

he hums thoughtfully, his hands sliding up your legs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “not luck, baby. skill.”

“you’re so fucking insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, slipping under the hem of his shirt to splay across his warm skin.

his abs tense under your touch, and you relish the reaction, how his breath hitches as you dig your nails in just a little.

“irresistible,” he counters, his voice rough. his lips hover over yours, daring you to close the gap, but he doesn’t make the first move.

he waits, his eyes locked on yours, the faintest flicker of a challenge in his pretty blue eyes. two can play that game, matter of fact, you know you’ll win.

you pull back, smirking as you trace your fingers over the waistband of his jeans, “that’s pushing it, don’t you think?”

he exhales a chuckle through his nose, his hands moving to your waist, tugging you closer. “you’re so fucking stubborn.”

“me?” you scoff, your fingers dipping beneath the fabric of his jeans, making his tighten, his smirk faltering enough to make you feel victorious.

“yeah,” he repeats, though his voice is strained now. “practically begging me to fuck you here.”

“please.” you tilt your head, your lips grazing his jaw, “you’re the one begging.”

rafe’s laugh is low and throaty, a sound that sends a thrill to your core. his control visibly slips as you trail your lips down the line of his jaw, peppering kisses that grow increasingly slower, more deliberate.

his sharp exhale and the way his grip on your hips drops for half a second tell you everything you need to know.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, his forehead dropping against your shoulder for a moment.

you grin, pleased with yourself, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

“don’t sound too surprised.”

he shakes his head slightly, trying to clear it, but he can’t seem to stop staring at you. “god, i hate you sometimes,” he breathes out, his lips quirking up into a smirk that betrays his words.

“funny,” you retort, fingers sliding back into his hair to tug lightly. “don’t believe you.”

his jaw tightens at the sensation, a groan slipping past his lips before he catches it.

 “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says again, but his mouth is already back on you, a bruising kiss that steals every smart-ass remark you had locked and loaded.

your mouths move together with instinct, and when his tongue flicks against your lower lip, you don’t hesitate, opening up for him. he groans low in his throat as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, curling against yours, slick and overwhelming in the best way.

it’s messy and unrestrained, the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy and drenched. 

rafe’s lips leave yours only for a second, his teeth tugging lightly at your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to let it drag between his teeth, his eyes locked on yours, all dark with something feral.

you don’t let him stay in control for long, your hands tighten in his hair, tugging him back to you, and this time it’s your tongue that takes over, sliding against his in a way that has him moaning like a bitch in heat into your mouth. he sucks on it lightly, the sensation only making your panties stick harder to you, and you press closer to him, your legs tightening around his waist, looking for some kind of friction.

when he pulls back, both of you gasping for air, his lips are swollen and glistening, his eyes glazed over with that unmistakable lust.

a string of spit still connects your mouths, and you watch, entranced, as he swipes his tongue across his lips, catching it before smirking at you.

“you kiss me like that again,” he murmurs, “’m not responsible for what happens next.”

[jordiemeow]

Hi jo sorry if this isn’t what you normally write and you can ignore it if you want. I would just love a sort of comfort fic of reader losing their virginity to art but she’s uncomfortable and wants to stop and he’s sweet about it

No pressure I love everything you put out ♡

don't apologise pookie this is sweet :) <3

warnings: 18+ sex (p in v), insecure/uncomfortable reader, loss of virginity, very quickly (+ poorly) written apologies x

This is decidedly not how you expected losing your virginity to go.

Art was a gentleman. Waiting patiently for months, never pressuring you into anything despite the fact he'd spent countless nights leaving your dorm blue-balled and in dire need of a cold shower. Even when you suggested taking that next step, he made you insist several times that it was really what you wanted.

No, he wasn't the problem.

It took fifteen minutes with his head between your thighs for you to cum. That part was great. It was what came next that made things awkward: Art perched above you, one hand entwined with our own while the other guided him into you. The stretch was overwhelming, enough to render you breathless for the next few seconds as he eased in slowly. Each thick, solid inch has your toes curling and your lungs desperately gathering air.

An affirmative nod of your head to confirm that you were okay (you weren't) and he was rocking into you, groaning about how tight and good you felt. Everyone always said it gets better. But it's been two minutes of him thrusting into you, jaw slack with pleasure and eyes screwed shut while he babbles praises senselessly about how well you're taking it, and things are decidedly not better.

You can't take it anymore. The discomfort of having another person so deep inside you, the stretch, the burning pain...

"Art, stop."

He doesn't hear you at first. You're quiet, drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin and his ragged sounds of pleasure.

"Art." Your free hand finds his shoulder. Fingers curling into the sweat-slick skin, face strained in displeasure. "Stop, please."

Now you've got his attention. His eyes snap onto yours again, hips slowing to a halt. "What?" He blinks lamely. Despite his initial obliviousness, at least he's stopped moving.

"I just... I can't," you explain weakly, choking on a hitched breath.

It's not the most eloquent reply ever, but what are you supposed to say? This is awful. It's nothing like I expected. I'm having a terrible time. It hurts, it's uncomfortable, it's—

You could say all of that, actually. You just don't want to hurt his feelings.

"Okay," he says, brows furrowing. "Are you, um... are you okay? I'm sorry, was I going too fast?"

His hand moves to push your hair gently out of your face. Sweet boy. You can't find it in yourself to be upset.

"No, you're fine," you reply, trying for a smile. It falls terribly flat.

"Are you—" A pause, hand squeezing yours as he braces himself up on his other one. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you reply, embarrassed by the way his eyes are searching your face with such genuine concern. You wish you could just melt into the mattress and pretend this never happened. "Can you just... can you get off, please?"

"Oh!" He blinks, glancing down. "Right. Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry."

The process of him pulling out is far less agonising, and you breathe a sigh of relief, body relaxing beneath him. He's still watching you with that same worried look as he lays down next to you, fingers twitching by his sides uncertainly.

"Too much?" He asks tentatively. You nod sheepishly, eyes averted. "I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't—did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

It feels like the hundredth time he's posed the question, but he's panicking inwardly about your apparent state of discomfort as you shift restlessly, eyes fixated on some point over his shoulder. You feel embarrassed. Guilty. Like a failure.

What's the point in him dating you if you can't even handle sex?

You don't voice any of that out loud, but he can see it in your eyes; the way your bottom lip quivers slightly as the all of the emotions cross plainly across your face. Or how your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, voice cracking.

"No, no, no. Why are you apologising?" He replies instantly. He lifts a hand, pausing before he makes contact. "Is this okay?" When you nod your head, his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. It's okay."

Your head shakes insistently. "No, I should be able to do it. I mean, what's the point if I can't?"

His knuckles linger against your cheek, and then he laughs. Just a soft huff of amusement, but enough to have you knitting your brows at him.

"What's the point?" He repeats softly, eyes crinkling down at you. "It's just sex, babe."

"Sex is a very integral part of a relationship!" You argue, wiping feebly at your eyes.

"Maybe," Art says, shrugging noncommittally as he watches your aborted attempt sympathetically. "Doesn't mean we have to have sex right now. There's always room to try again in the future, right?"

You hate that he makes sense. It's hard to wallow in your own self-pity when he's looking at you so tenderly, still caressing your cheek. "Right," you mumble reluctantly. "And if the future is never?"

"We'll tackle that hurdle when we get there," he says, dipping his head to kiss the tip of your nose. "Stop stressing. Let's just put a movie on and relax, 'kay?"

You pout at him for a second longer before relenting. Your head falls back into the pillow with a sigh as he settles back beside you, an arm draped across your middle to reach for the remote. A few more sniffles can be heard as you settle down.

"Thank you."

It's quiet, but he hears it. He sends you a soft smile. "You don't need to thank me."

"Well, I am," you reply, shifting to rest your head against his shoulder. All you get in reply is a light chuckle.

A few moments pass as he flicks through the channels before you speak up again. "Can you maybe put your boxers back on? I don't want to see your dick."

He snorts, tilting his head to press a kiss into the top of your hair. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One phone call was never going to be enough for Bradley. Another opportunity falls into his lap, and he emails you right away to see if you can make a little time for him. When he shares a bit more with you than he bargained for, he's pleasantly surprised once again by how open and authentic you are.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being vulnerable

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley was never usually one to get lost in a daydream. He was exceptionally good at focusing on flying when he was in the air. If he had a task to complete on the ground, he always got it done. But when he spent the rest of his day after talking on the phone with you in his bunk, he wasn't focused on much except the sound of your voice. Then he dug out the pictures you'd mailed to him so he could see your face as well. The combination of everything about you was almost too much, and he didn't know how he'd manage in person.

He still had weeks of his deployment left, and he'd never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That first date was already set. He was annoyed he couldn't give you a firm idea on when it could happen, but you didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, you told him you'd be ready whenever he got back. And that you'd take him any way you could get him. Well, as long as you still wanted him next month, you could have him.

With a smile on his face, Bradley reached for the stack of letters from your class and took the time to judge the drawing contest. All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

He wrote on the back of each picture, chuckling the whole time. Then he got to the one you drew, and he noticed something he'd missed when he first opened the newest box from your class. Next to his name written on the side of the F/A-18, you'd drawn a little heart. He was all smiles as he flipped it over and started writing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

After he packaged everything up and dropped it off to be sent back to the states, he made his way to dinner. He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over. You'd be asleep now back in California, but maybe there was a chance you had in fact emailed him that selfie before you went to bed. And that is what once again lured him back to the lounge. You had a vise-like grip on every part of him, and he was itching to know exactly what you looked like tonight while he was talking to you.

Unsurprisingly, he had to wait a bit until there was a computer free that he could use. Sundays always seemed to be when the lounge was swamped, but he didn't mind. He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

"Shit," he grunted, hopping up when it was finally his turn, and he logged into his email account to find that you wrote to him approximately fifteen minutes after the phone call ended. And when he opened your message, he leaned in a little closer to make sure nobody else around him could catch even a glimpse of the photos you attached.

His heart started beating in that same erratic way it had when he listened to you telling him you thought about kissing his scars. Not only had you emailed him a sweet looking selfie of you in bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt, you sent a second, decidedly spicier one, too. 

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth and mustache, trying not to groan as he quickly memorized every detail of that second photo. You'd removed that oversized sweatshirt and snuggled down under the soft looking sheet, and there was not a scrap of shirt fabric covering your arms or chest. Inch after glorious inch of the soft swell of your breasts was visible before the sheet forced him to imagine what the rest would look like. And he had a very vivid imagination.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo. The little smirk you wore in it let him know you were absolutely intentional about this, and that was such a huge turn on for him. This is how you wanted him to see you. Fuck. He scrolled back up to the first photo where you were wearing your sweatshirt and a much more innocent smile, and he whispered, "Okay, Gorgeous. You've ruined me."

He realized as he scrolled all the way back up to your actual message that there were probably a lot of guys who got sent straight up pornography from their wives or girlfriends when they were deployed, but this had to be the hottest looking thing that ever graced his inbox. And you were still completely covered up. He shook his head to clear his mind as he started reading.

Bradley,

Thank you for the phone call. I'm sitting here kind of regrouping while the butterflies are still going crazy in my belly. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is with you that sets them off, but hearing your voice for twenty minutes straight has turned me into a boneless heap on my bed. I'm almost afraid of what might happen to me if you touch me.

It's gone. I deleted my profile and the entire dating app. I'm no longer looking for single guys with jobs who are between 30 and 40 years old. I'm just looking for a 36-year old Naval aviator who wants to take me to the beach in Coronado to watch the sunset with Thai food and Prosecco.

I hope you come home soon. Do you have any idea how much longer you'll be gone? Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on? I'd just really like to see your face in person as soon as possible.

I'm attaching two photos, probably against my better judgement. Maybe it's just my excuse to get you to call me Gorgeous again. I can't wait to see you.

Your favorite pen pal

He wanted to wait until he had some gym selfies to send, but he couldn't leave you hanging. Not when those two, flawless photos caught his eye again. So he started typing up a response, and soon he found that he wanted to talk to you on the phone again badly enough that he was going to go back to one of the admirals to see if there was any way he could.

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

You had such a hard time falling asleep on Saturday night after talking to Bradley. It was like your body had accepted the inevitable before your brain had. You were completely enchanted by him, and the call made it so much worse. Hearing him call you Gorgeous through your phone speaker was almost more than you could handle. You were turned on and too warm, even without your sweatshirt. You couldn't believe you sent him that photo. You couldn't believe you trusted him enough to keep it private.

He probably dated women in the past who sent him things that were way more explicit than a selfie where they were covered up, but you were still a teacher who wanted to keep her job. You loved your class, and you knew nobody else could handle your kids as well as you could. But you wanted to give Bradley what you could for now.

It was the description of the perfect date and the promise that he'd kiss you as soon as he saw you that kept playing in your mind. And you let it keep playing on loop, because he lived in Coronado. And that's how you finally dozed off. When you woke up on Sunday morning, you had a brand new email in response to your selfies.

Gorgeous,

I'm thrilled to hear the app is gone. All of the other single guys aged thirty to forty are probably at home crying right now, and I can't blame them. I'll just sit here with a smug look on my face.

That phone call was one of the best of my life. The way you say my name is somehow better than I imagined it would sound, and I'd been spending a lot of my free time thinking about it. Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You don't need an excuse to get me to call you Gorgeous. Hopefully by next month, you'll be hearing it so much in person that you'll be sick of it. And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when.

As soon as I have a better idea of when I'll be back in San Diego, that information will be in your inbox immediately.

I can't wait to see you,

Bradley

You couldn't wait that long. You would never make it. Your sheets were brushing your bare skin as you thought about him calling you Gorgeous so many times that you got sick of it, but you knew that would never happen. You were going to need another hobby or maybe five to help you pass the time, but for now, you decided to work on your lesson plans for the coming week.

Your kids would probably be happy to learn that you were planning on extending your aviation lessons to the end of the school year. Or at least until Bradley got back. What you wouldn't give to have him visit your classroom. Just the idea of him standing in front of the board, maybe in his flight suit, left you light headed. You already knew your kids would be absolutely delighted to meet him after writing back and forth so many times.

After you managed to distract yourself for a full day, you were just getting into bed when you heard your phone ping with a notification. "Oh god," you groaned in pleasure. When you opened the new email from Bradley, you were met with the promised gym selfies. One was of his reflection which was taken in a long mirror that seemed to cover most of a wall. You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

And then you read the short message.

Two gym selfies, as promised. You asked for a nice closeup of my face, and that's as good as it gets. Talk soon, Gorgeous.

You were still looking at the photos when you fell asleep.

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

Bradley shouldn't have been surprised that another mission was in the works. He'd been so caught up in you, he almost expected smooth sailing and a direct path back to San Diego so he could get on with his personal life. But no such luck. After several days holed up in planning sessions, the only real happiness he found was in each new email from you.

There was another class photo in one. There was a selfie of you at a Thai restaurant in another. And there were always a lot of fun details about your day, too. But it was the bits where you let him know you were thinking about him that made him a little weaker for you with every passing day. His favorite was when you told him you donated all of your DVDs of movies with spiders in them. He also loved it when you told him that your students wanted to meet him.

If he could just get back, you and he would be watching all the spider-less movies together, and he'd be more than happy to visit your classroom. But, fuck, this deployment was dragging. He was tired, but he wasn't sleeping well. And there seemed to be cabbage rolls every evening in the cafeteria. When he finally made it out on deck a few days before he was supposed to fly the mission, he ended up talking to Marty.

"You need a hand with that?" Bradley asked the mechanic as he worked on taking apart an engine.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Marty replied, handing Bradley some very greasy bolts and a wrench. "Just hang onto those for me."

Two minutes of watching him work, and Bradley wished he'd brought his phone with him to record a video for your class. "The kids would love this," he muttered, and Marty chuckled.

"You still sending stuff to that elementary class back in San Diego? The pen pals?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "I think I've kind of adopted them. Or maybe they've adopted me? Either way, I've been writing to them this entire deployment. And... you know how you asked me if I was dating a teacher a few months ago?"

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?"

He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home."

"Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Bradley was ready to jump at the chance to see your face and hear your voice at the same time, but instead he said, "I can't take that from you, but thanks, man."

Marty shrugged. "I'll just end up talking to my sister again. You can have it."

Bradley stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"All yours."

Bradley stayed long enough to get the details and help Marty unload everything else he needed to finish his project, and then he got cleaned up and went to the lounge to email you. If you were able to talk to him over FaceTime, it would be everything he needed to get through this last flight mission and end his deployment on a high note.

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

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said my drawing is the funniest one!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw likes the rooster beak I put on my jet!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said mine is the least realistic in a good way!"

You were trying not to laugh as you looked at each of the little messages Bradley wrote on the backs of the F/A-18 drawings. They were all somehow well thought out and personalized. It was as if he actually knew these kids. But you supposed that in a way, he did. You kept going back to your desk to look at the note on the back of your drawing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

Seeing him was all you could think about now. You were almost completely convinced that your feelings would translate well from virtual to personal interaction. How could they not? He was as sweet and sincere over the phone as he was through his writing.

When you checked your phone after your kids were dismissed for the day, you tapped on a new email from Bradley before you started packing your bag to head home.

Gorgeous, any chance you have ten minutes you're willing to spend on a FaceTime call? Tomorrow night around 8:00 for you?

You squeaked in delight at the mere thought of it. His face and his voice and his words and his attention all at the same time? Ten minutes of it?

Yes! I'll be ready!

Now you had to wait. You also had to get your friends to bump up the Friday night dinner reservation to 5:00. And you needed to make sure you looked nicer than you did when you were usually lounging at home in your oversized sweatshirt. 

So when Friday evening rolled around, and you barely made it home from dinner by 8:00, you were a little frazzled. You wanted to take the time to fix your makeup, and you wanted to change into a cuter shirt that your friends would have definitely called you out on if they saw you wearing it to dinner, but there was no time. Your phone was already ringing at 8:01.

This time, the butterflies erupted as soon as you accepted the call and saw Bradley sitting there in his flight suit with a hesitant smile on his face. He didn't even have to say a word to make you feel like you were going to float up to the ceiling even as you tried to sit down on your bed.

"Bradley," you breathed softly, and his smile grew exponentially. 

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip as you took in all the details of his face on your tiny phone screen. His brown eyes were wide as he did the same to you, and you couldn't stop yourself before you said, "Hey, Handsome."

His cheeks immediately flushed with a pink tint, and he looked down at the table in front of him with a bashful smile. You wanted to climb through your phone to get to him, settle yourself down on his lap, and feel how rough his flight suit was against your hands. You wanted to tip his face up so he was looking at you again, and when he did that on his own, you almost screamed in delight at what he said next.

"Damn, Baby. You didn't need to get all dressed up just to talk to me. You look beautiful right now, but I'm also partial to your sweatshirt."

You looked down at yourself and then back at him with a little laugh. He was staring at you in awe as you said, "I always look like this."

"You always look like this? You always look this hot?" he asked, that little grin you liked so much dancing around his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't do anything special. I wanted to, but I ran out of time, and I definitely didn't want to miss your call."

Your heart was thudding as he really scanned your face and let out a low whistle. "I guess I'll find out for myself soon enough. About two more weeks to go, and then I'll be home. I just got that information today."

"Two weeks!" you exclaimed, nearly dropping your phone. Images of beach sunsets and Bradley's big hand holding yours filled your mind. "That's better than I was hoping for!"

You watched him run his hand through his hair, almost like he was nervous now. "Same. So what do you say? Two Saturdays from now, as long as everything goes as planned, you want to go on that first date with me?"

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do."

His voice was deep and raspy as he said, "Then it's a date." But his eyes still seemed uncertain, and you knew instinctively that there was more going on as he asked, "You think... maybe we could talk about date number two for a minute? I was thinking we would go out to a restaurant so I can prove to you that I clean up okay."

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you said, "I have no doubt in my mind that you'd look just as good in a tee shirt as you would in a tuxedo."

That made him laugh as he scratched along the stubble on his jaw. "Humor me, Gorgeous? We would end up going out on a second date, right?" he asked, and somehow you could tell that something else was on his mind. "Maybe we would even go on a third?"

"Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?"

He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. "We only have a few minutes on here, and I'm fucking it up because I'm nervous." You noticed he was rubbing his palms along his thighs, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "I really like you. All I can think about is getting home and doing all the things I promised. I don't usually feel like I have anything special to look forward to in San Diego. Or at least I didn't before we started talking." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm flying a final mission here in a few hours. It's a sensitive one, and... I just wanted you to know that I'll be thinking about you until I have to put my head down and get to work."

"Oh," you gasped, suddenly more aware than ever that he had the kind of anxiety inducing, adrenaline spiking job you could only ever dream of. Your fourth grade classroom was tame by comparison. Your students were nothing compared to opposing fighter jets. His career was dangerous.

Tears filled your eyes as he groaned a little bit and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baby. I kind of killed the vibe."

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes they close off communication as we get closer to port. Of course I'll email you if I can, otherwise I'll let you know when I'm back in San Diego." His brown eyes flicked to the side and then back to you. "I'm going to have to go in a minute here."

There were a lot of things you knew would have to be left unsaid for now, so you told him what you could. "I really like you, too," you promised him, and some of the worry melted away from his face. "And I'm thinking dinner at an Italian restaurant for our second date. That way you can get cleaned up nice, and I can wear a dress that I'll be stressing out about all night long. And you can tell me that I look gorgeous while my foot keeps intentionally bumping yours under the table." He was smiling now, so you decided to go for broke. "And you kind of promised me takeout on your couch with a spider-free movie. I was hoping you'd play a song on the piano for me. I was hoping to cover both of us with a blanket and kiss you senseless. How does that sound?" You were gripping your phone a little tighter, hoping you'd be able to hear his response before he said he had to go.

"That sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he said, looking a lot calmer now. "Let's do that."

"Please, be careful."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

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

Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else. If he never got to meet you in person... well he couldn't even think about that right now. He was supposed to report to his jet on the main runway in an hour, but you kept popping up in every corner of his mind. You were more emotionally open with him over a ten minute call than Vanessa ever was.

"Bradshaw!" He turned to see a petty officer coming toward him with a box. "Last mail call."

"Thank you," he replied, already smiling as he recognized your handwriting. His nineteen pen pals were here to keep him company once again, and his heart swelled with something he didn't even want to try to identify at the moment. All he could do was drop the box off in his bunk and tell himself he'd open it when he got back after nightfall.

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

Vulnerable Bradley is nervous just thinking about what might happen. He's starting to feel like Gorgeous could be be the one waiting on the San Diego end of all of his deployments from now on, but he needs to get through the rest of this one first. Maybe they can meet in the next part? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[adalindofcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies (I)

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: even though she lives in the usa, my main character, barbara, is brazilian. i added terms and expressions that we use in our country, as well as cultural elements, to this fanfic. the words that appear in portuguese are highlighted and you can contact me if you have any questions.

masterlist

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[pathologicalreid]

the archer | S.R.

in which a trip to your hometown leads to an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angst

content warnings: normal cm violence/death. mentions of sexual assault and physical assault. mentions of miscarriage and dv. arson/fires. please take care of yourself while reading <3.

word count: 5.96k

a/n: if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, the US hotline is 800-799-7233. be well and be safe.

can you see right through me?

Emily had called you into her office fifteen minutes before the briefing began to let you know that the case was in your hometown. “There are some things that may come to light in a small town, and I wanted to let you know that you can stay behind if you need to,” she told you, having shut the blinds to her office to give you the most privacy she could.

Giving it a moment, you thought about it before you met her eyes, “if someone tries to say something, I’d rather be there to clear things up than let them say anything.” You wiped your clammy palms on your plants before standing up, “and besides, who better to work on victimology than someone who knows the town.”

You stepped out of the office, holding the door open for Emily before the two of you made your way to the roundtable room.

The two victims had been killed a week apart, they were both women who you had gone to school with. The first was in your graduating class, Victoria Reynolds, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The second was a year ahead of you, Melanie Baylor, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The team had been called in by the lead detective on the case, Charlie Platten, and he had likely made the call without telling the police chief.

It had already been three days since the second body was recovered, and Emily didn’t want to waste any more time. You left the roundtable room to grab your go-bag, smiling when you felt a familiar presence next to you. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, leaning against your desk while you reached underneath it for your bag.

Stepping in front of him, you looked up at him, “I’m okay, Spence.” You plopped your go bag on top of your desk, “it’ll be okay,” you whisper.

“And if at any point it’s not,” he prompted, placing a hand on your waist.

You simpered up at him, “You’ll be the first person I go to, love.”

He reached over and grabbed your bag off of your desk, carrying it to where the rest of the team is waiting for the elevator. “I’ll admit, I am interested in seeing your hometown,” he told you, letting you step into the elevator before him.

“Yeah, Y/N, maybe you can show us some of your old haunts once we solve the case,” Luke chimed in from the back of the elevator.

Laughing breathily, you turned your head to face Luke, “Do I really strike you as the kind of person to have ‘old haunts’, Alvez?”

A few of your team members chuckle. You faced forward, wondering how long it would be before one of them saw through you. When working with profilers, it was always a risk.

'cause all of my enemies started out friends

Emily sent you and Luke to the latest crime scene while she and Spencer set up at the precinct. JJ and Matt met with the latest victim's family while Tara and Rossi met with the medical examiner. Your stomach felt unsettled as soon as the plane landed, you had a bad feeling about this case. Spencer tried to ask you what was going on with you, but you just brushed him off.

You would tell him. After this case was over and you went home, you would tell Spencer everything. He deserved that.

“Did you know her?” Luke asked, using a gloved hand to inspect a shard of glass he found on the concrete.

Blinking rapidly, you snapped out of your stupor, “Melanie? Yeah, she was a year ahead of me in school. I graduated with Victoria though.” You used the toe of your boot to clear some dirt off of what looked like some sort of plaque. “I wasn’t all that close with either of them, but in a town this small, you kind of know everyone,” you explained.

Standing back up and walking back over to Luke, you looked at the building, it’s an abandoned factory on the edge of town. “Is there any significance to this building?”

“It was a functioning factory in the eighties,” you explained, looking at the vines growing up the side of it. “This business was the entire economy of the town, when the factory went down, so did the town.”

Luke nodded, taking a step back and eyeing the entire decrepit building. “And the church? Where the first body was found.”

You pursed your lips, “Only church in town, I was baptized there, when it burned down people had nowhere else to go, so they stopped believing.”

“How did the fire start?” He asked, turning the knob on the factory door, and looking surprised when it opened.

You shrugged, “lightning strike, I thought. I wasn’t much of a believer, especially once my mom died.”

Alvez nodded in understanding, “Would you say that both of these locations are important to the town and its history?”

Nodding, you followed Luke back to the SUV, leaning back in the passenger seat as you mentally prepared yourself for the scene your arrival at the precinct was about to cause.

When you got there, you immediately spotted the police chief ripping the lead detective, Charlie, a new one outside the front door. He saw you and did a double take, “And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Sir, we’re members of the BAU, our-“ Luke started explaining, obviously confused at the chief’s combative nature.

He held up a hand, “I wasn’t talking to you, agent.” Turning to face you, “You don’t show your face at home, leaving in the middle of the night ten years ago and now you’re what? A big bad FBI agent?”

You stiffened, pushing your shoulders back as you faced him. Stand tall, stay strong. “It wasn’t the middle of the night, and the FBI is only big and bad to the people who deserve it, Frank.”

The man in front of you scoffed, “I’m talking to your supervisor, you’re not working on this case.” He pushes past you, causing you to stumble back against the wall.

“What was that about? Who was that guy?” Luke asked, looking at you as you got your bearings back before walking into the precinct.

Bowing your head, you grumbled, “You just met my father.” At that moment, you were glad to be facing away from him, because you weren’t sure you could face any of it.

You’re still the newest member of the BAU, technically being a profiler but Emily pulled you in to help with public communications, since the old unit chief had been handling it along with Garcia, Emily did the same. When Spencer went to prison, she found she needed extra help, so you were snagged from your cozy office in sex crimes and sent to the BAU.

You fit in well with everyone, and you never really felt the need to prove yourself. Even taking the initiative to write letters to Spencer, because you didn’t want to be a stranger to him when he came back. So, when you met face-to-face last year, he thanked you. When you kissed him eight months ago, you both agreed to move slowly.

Seven months ago, he showed up at your door and told you he loved you.

Emily gave you an understanding look when she saw you walk into the police station, she, of course, knew everything about your situation.

“We don’t have enough for any sort of geographic profile yet,” Spencer said, standing in front of a whiteboard with a map over it, along with pictures of the two victims. He turned as soon as he saw you, smiling in a silent greeting. You winked in response, sitting down in the office chair next to him.

Luke stood in front of you, blocking your view of the whiteboard, “What do you mean that was your father? Why wouldn’t you say that your dad was the chief of police here?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “I may share DNA with the man, but I haven’t seen Frank Burris since I was twenty years old.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? Did she tell you?” Luke asked Spencer, who was still looking at the whiteboard, entirely unbothered.

“What did you find at the crime scene?” Emily asked, effectively ending Luke’s questioning. You had no idea if she had heard any of the previous conversation, but either way, you were grateful for the change in subject.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and faced her, “The dump sites are all places that are former symbols of the town, maybe the unsub wants to further desecrate these locations.” Emily nodded, prompting you to continue. “These kills are angry, the overkill and sexual assault definitely lean toward a male offender, I think the unsub is angry,” you said.

“Angry that his town is no longer what it once was,” Spencer suggested, taking his eyes off the whiteboard. “Are there any other locations that could fit that general description?”

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Probably, I haven’t been here in ten years, it might help to talk to a local. Charlie could probably help.”

“Charlie can’t help with anything; the chief took him off the case. It belongs to me now,” a voice behind you said. Immediately, you straightened up in your chair, earning a strange look from Spencer. “Y/N, I’m looking forward to working with you,” the male voice said.

Swallowing thickly, you turned and faced him, “I wish I could say the same, Johnny.” You stood up, needing as much ground as you could get. “Do you know any places that would fit the description? Somewhere that used to be a symbol in the down, but is abandoned now?”

“The school burnt down about eight days ago, but you’d know that if you gave a damn about us,” he said indignantly, looking down at you.

You felt Spencer stand behind you, “do you have some kind of problem?”

Johnny eyed your boyfriend and you hoped he didn’t catch on to your relationship, “If I’m being totally honest, I’m not completely comfortable working with Y/N.”

“Our team was called in to help solve these murders and Agent Y/L/N is a part of that team,” Emily defended you. “If you have a problem, I suggest you suck it up until this case is solved.”

Angrily, Johnny stalked off. You turned around and grabbed a file off of the desk, glancing over at Emily and silently thanking her.

help me hold on to you

Later in your shared hotel room, Spencer looked at you curiously, “Was he an ex-boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the bed, it wasn’t the worst bed you’ve slept in since joining the BAU, but it certainly wasn’t going to be winning any awards any time soon. “Don’t be jealous, Spence, it’s unbecoming," you deflected.

Spencer climbed on top of the bed and kissed your forehead, “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned.”

That made your heart clench, you sat up in the bed and cupped his face with your hands, “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” You studied his face, the small crease in his forehead that told you he was overthinking the situation made you sigh. Gently, you leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “If I think you need to be concerned, I’ll tell you,” you whispered, allowing him to gather you in his arms.

“Okay, angel,” he whispered back.

You sighed and laid back against the pillows, “I have a bad feeling about this case,” you told him softly. Spencer doesn’t believe in intuition the way you do, but he’d never discredit your feelings.

He reached over and swept your hair behind your ear, “Me too.”

Pulling away from him, you looked at him curiously, “Why?”

He shrugged, “Both of them look like you. You’re the same age as them.” The victims, he was saying the victims were too similar to you for his own comfort. You hadn’t really given it much thought. If you start comparing yourself to the victims, you’d freeze up. That was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” you comforted, curling up next to him.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey

The call came at five in the morning, only four hours after you had gone to sleep. Splitting up into two SUVs, half of you went to the precinct while the other half of you went to the crime scene.

“Katherine Meadows was dumped in front of the school,” Emily said, leading you, Tara, and Rossi into the precinct. You were still pulling your blazer on over your tank top, having been given approximately five minutes between waking up and getting out the door.

You stopped in your tracks; your mouth went dry. You knew of the other victims, but you were friends with Katherine. She helped you pay for your plane ticket out of here. You owed her your life, and now you’d never be able to repay her.

“What kind of school is it? Elementary? High school?” Rossi asked, flipping through a file that had been left on a desk.

Snapping out of your daze, you shook your head, “It’s K-12 all in the same building, that’s why it’s such a big deal that it’s gone.” You looked at the whiteboard, there weren’t any pictures of Katherine up yet, but you could imagine it. She looked more like you than the other victims, and you silently cursed Spencer for putting those thoughts in your head.

“Agent Y/L/N,” you heard Johnny call from behind you, he and your father were charging toward you at an alarming pace. “Are you armed?”

Your head snapped up, “yes,” you answered, putting your hand on your holstered weapon, watching as Johnny and Frank pulled their guns out.

“Please hand over your firearm to Detective Klein and put your hands up,” Frank commanded.

Taking a deep breath, you handed the weapon over to Johnny, facing him directly. It gave you tunnel vision, and you couldn’t even hear the protests of your team as you raised your hands level with your head.

Johnny grabbed your wrists, and you hissed as he cuffed you, the metal cutting into your skin when he made the handcuffs too tight. “Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murders of Victoria Reynolds, Melanie Baylor, and Katherine Meadows. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” He shoved you in the direction of the interrogation room, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

An officer opened the door, and he pushed you down into a metal chair, hooking your handcuffs to the table in front of you.He continued reading your rights, “If you decide to answer questions without an attorney present, you will still have the right to cease answering at any time until you are able to talk to an attorney.” Johnny said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Do you understand your rights?”

You glared up at him, “What the hell are you doing, Johnny?”

He slammed a palm on the table, “Do you understand your rights?”

Pursing your lips, you looked away and peered right at the glass window ahead of you, “Yes, I understand my rights.”

“With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” He asked, leaning far too close to you, you could smell the cigarette smoke on his uniform. That smell was on you for years after you left, you were convinced you’d never be able to fully wash it off. Maybe you hadn’t.

You seethed up at him, “fuck no.”

Johnny nodded assuredly, opening the door to the interrogation room, and slamming it shut.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to pull the handcuffs away from where it was pinching your skin, you winced when it tore your skin. You set your head down on the cold table and sigh, knowing you should’ve taken Emily’s offer to stay behind when you had the chance.

Another officer came in later and told you they wanted your jacket and shoes for evidence, you didn’t fight them, numbly watching as he unlocked the handcuffs and took your jacket before putting the cuffs back on, just as tight. You kicked off your shoes for the officer and sat back down. Before he left, another officer came in and dropped an evidence box on the table.

It was an FBI scare tactic to leave an empty evidence box on an interrogation room table, but your box wasn’t empty.

They wanted to humiliate you in front of your team, and it was working. 

all the king's horses, all the kings men, couldn't put me together again

The next people to open the door were Charlie and Tara, they sat down across from you. “I’m really sorry about all of this Y/N,” he muttered to you, pulling some files out of the evidence box.

You shrugged and shook your head, “Nothing Johnathan Klein does to me anymore really surprises me.” You looked at the files.

Charlie was hesitant to open the files, “there’s some rough stuff in here if you’re okay with going over some of it with us.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked at the file, “I don’t really have a ton of choice, do I?”

You hated both of them for pitying you, but more than anything you hated your father and Johnny for doing this to you and wasting time while there was a serial killer on the loose. He opened the file and placed pictures of the three victims in front of you.

For a couple of minutes, he asked general questions. Do you know them? How did you know them?

Then Tara finally asked a question, “Y/N, how old were you when your mother died?” She asked you, placing a photo of you and your mom in front of you. You were probably seven in the picture.

“Ten,” you answered, looking at the picture. You wondered if you could keep it once this was all over.

“When you were ten, you started a string of hospital visits that lasted until you were twenty years old. Broken ribs, concussions, fractures, and… a miscarriage,” Tara said, your eyes snapped up to look at her.

Your mouth went dry “You had Garcia unseal my files?” You couldn’t help the hurt in your voice.

The way Tara looked at you, you could tell she understood you in a whole new light now, “we had to. She felt horrible doing it.” That you didn’t doubt, the whole team had a mostly unspoken rule on inter-team profiling. You nodded understandingly.

“Y/N, do you have an alibi for the murders? We already cleared up that you weren’t working, but can anyone account for your whereabouts?” Charlie asked impatiently, he knew you didn’t do this, and it might not be his case anymore, but you could still tell he wanted it solved.

Looking directly at Tara, you answered the question, “No, I wasn’t with anyone.”

Your coworker set her jaw as Charlie got up and left.

“How did you get those injuries, Y/N?” Tara continued her line of questioning, setting a packet of medical records in front of you. You were still cuffed, so all you could do was touch the papers with your fingertips.

The paper read of chromosomes and a D&C, you couldn’t help the tears that flooded your eyes, “I- uh. I don’t want to look at that, please.”

Quickly, Tara pulled the papers away, “who hurt you?”

You bit your lip to stifle a cry, “Tara, please.” You knew what was going on, the only person who knew everything was retaliating against the precinct. They humiliated you, so she was going to humiliate them. She repeated the question and this time you answered, “My father.”

“Was your father also the father of your baby?” She asked, looking down at the papers. Honestly, she looked just about as uncomfortable as you were.

Solemnly, you shook your head, “That was Johnny. We were together from when I was fifteen until I was twenty. My dad-“ Your voice broke off, “Frank never touched me like that.”

“Can you tell me more about Frank?” She asked softly, the way she spoke to victims. The one thing you had tried to avoid.

Blearily, you looked up at your friend, “Can we take a break?”

Nodding, Tara stood up. When she opened the door, you heard shouting. People asking if your cuffs could be taken off. You just let your tears fall for a moment. Charlie came back and unlocked your cuffs, looking at the dried blood on them and the still bleeding wounds on your wrists, “I- I think we have a first aid kit somewhere.”

You brushed him off, waiting for him to leave and for Tara to come back. She did, draping a sweater over the table, and you tentatively grabbed it. Sighing when you recognized it as Spencer’s, “Has everyone seen the paperwork?”

She nodded slowly, “are you alright to talk to me about Frank now?”

You used your newly freed hands to wipe under your eyes before pulling the cardigan on. “It was my mom, she took everything he threw at her to protect me,” you whispered. “He hit me when I was ten, I had gotten a bad grade in social studies. So, my mom and I planned to leave, but he figured it out,” you said, furrowing your brows at the memory. “He strangled her, and she died. He told everyone she hung herself. The whole town believed him because he was the chief of police.”

Tara wrote something down, “he killed her in front of you?”

You nodded, “He needed someone else to take his aggression out on after that, so he beat me.” You told her, fiddling with the hem of Spencer’s sweater. “So, when I was fifteen and I met a boy, I thought I had found the answers to all of my problems, but I really had just discovered more.”

“The boy was Johnathan Klein?”

Affirming her question again, you continued your story, “he was a horny fifteen-year-old boy, and he had sex with me even when I begged him not to. He told me he had to because he loved me, and I believed him.”

Tara leaned over and looked you in the eyes, “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” You asked meekly, tilting your head to the side. “He proposed to me the day we graduated from high school. I had already accepted the fact that I was never getting out of the town, but what I didn’t know was by getting engaged to him I was very nearly signing my own death certificate.” You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in your chest, “I found out I was pregnant when I was nineteen, and looking back at it now, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Tara didn’t speak, she just listened. You supposed that was the psychologist in her, letting you take the lead in your own story.

You furrowed your brows as you tried to bring memories that you had spent so long burying to the surface. “I knew I couldn’t make my baby go through the same thing I went through, so I tried to run, but I didn’t get far. He found me, he beat me, he brought me to the hospital, and he told me I killed our baby.” You could see the story was bothering Tara. When you told Emily, you told her in pieces over the span of a month. “The only people I was allowed to see after that were my dad, Johnny, and Katherine.” You wiped tears from your face, “the judge wouldn’t grant me a restraining order, my only option was to run. So, when Kath showed up with a plane ticket and an envelope of cash, I took the opportunity and left.”

“Y/N, do you think these murders could be somehow connected to your upbringing here?” Tara asked, flipping through another file.

You looked back at the glass that separates the observation room, having no idea who was on the other side listening. “I didn’t until Reid said the victims looked like me,” you confessed. It felt too convenient, victims looking like you, you being framed for their murders. Yet, you still made sure not to call Spencer by his first name, afraid of giving yourself away. “Do they have any evidence?”

“They found soil from the factory crime scene on your shoes, but your jacket is still being processed. Without an alibi, we can’t get them to release you,” Tara said.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in the chair, “Of course, they found soil from the factory crime scene on my shoes, I was at the scene yesterday.”

The door opened and Frank stepped inside, “Your alibi spoke up.” He sounded irritated, but not as irritated as he’s going to be once the BAU is through with him.

i see right through me

Spencer had settled you down on a desk in the corner of the precinct, disinfecting the cuts on your wrists made by Johnny’s handcuffs. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, watching as he cleaned the debris from your torn skin.

He didn’t respond, he just shook his head. You could tell he was thinking, as clearly as if you could see gears physically turning in his head.

“Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, bending your neck to try to catch his eyes.

He shook his head again, “I’m not upset, not with you at least.”

You raised your eyebrows in suspicion, “Then stop getting so lost in thought. What’s bothering you?”

He clasped both of your hands in his own, setting them in your lap, “Does it feel like a coincidence to you that the same night Johnny told us about the school the woman who helped you escape an abusive relationship was found dead at that school?” Spencer dropped your hands, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out bandages before gingerly wrapping your wrists. At work, you tried to keep the public displays to a minimum, but you felt like these were extenuating circumstances, which was why you had secluded yourselves in the corner.

“I need to look at the crime scene photos again,” you said, trying to get off of the desk.

Spencer firmly placed both of his hands on your hips, effectively keeping you in place. “Once I’m done,” he whispered, securing the bandages on your wrists. “Are you alright?”

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sadly, “Everyone learned a lot about me today. Some of it I had never intended on telling them. I just feel… exposed? Raw?” You searched desperately for the right word to use to describe exactly how you feel.

Hanging your head low, your eyes traced patterns in the carpet when Spencer hooked a finger gently under your chin and lifted your head, so you were looking at him. His honey-colored eyes searched your face, and you felt like he was looking right through you. “You know nothing that happened today makes any of us see you differently, right? I don’t think of you as any less of a person because of what I learned today.”

You shook your head, “You don’t learn those things about your girlfriend and look at her the same.”

“You’re right. I don’t look at you the same, I’m even more in awe of you now than I was before. The fact that you’ve been through what you’ve been through and you’re this bright, shiny person sitting in front of me is astounding, but…” His voice trailed off.

Here it was, he couldn’t want who you were. He didn’t want the heavy history that comes with you. You shut your eyes.

He cupped your face with his hands, “it makes me worry that maybe I haven’t been there for you enough. Not in the same way you’re there for me.”

“Spence,” you whispered, swallowing back your emotions, and looking up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “I love you, and I have to make sure that you know that I’m always going to be there when you need me.”

Nodding rapidly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around him, “I know.” Your voice was little more than a rasp, “I know, I love you too.”

After assuring Emily and Tara that your friendship was intact, you turned to the team. “I think I play a bigger part in this case than I realize.”

“We were just coming to a similar conclusion, once we saw what Katherine Meadows looked like, it just confirmed our suspicions,” JJ said, looking at the whiteboard, which now had Kath’s picture on it, as well as yours. “The whole town seems to have it out for you, though. How do we narrow down the suspect pool?”

You stepped up to the whiteboard, “Because it’s not about the locations and their relation to the town, it’s about the locations and their relation to me.” You pointed to the factory, “When I was fifteen, this was the first place Johnny ever assaulted me.”

“You said he proposed to you at your high school graduation, right?” Tara said, “That’s the connection to the school.”

Nodding, you continued, “And we were going to get married at the church.”

Spencer wrote this all down on the whiteboard as you fit the pieces of this puzzle together. “Is there anywhere else that would fit in with these other locations?”

Flipping through a file, you set papers down on the desk in front of your team. “That’s our house, it was set on fire not long after I left,” you pointed out. “That’s where he’s going next.”

“But who will his victim be? If we can get to her before he can, then we can stop him before he gets to her,” Matt mentioned.

Slowly, you turned around and faced your team, “I don’t intend on letting anyone else get hurt. This is between me and Johnny.”

who could stay?

You sat yourself down at the dining room table. Nothing in the house had been moved, its charred remains were left defenseless against Mother Nature. You knew this table, there was blood ground into the wood grain. It was your blood.

You wished they had torn the rest of the structure down.

Spencer didn’t like the idea of you going alone, but you were armed, and you had an earpiece in. You weren’t alone, the team was nearby in case things went wrong.

“Incoming, blue pick-up pulling into the driveway,” Luke said through the radio. “Suspect’s getting out, it doesn’t look like anyone’s with him.”

Realistically, you knew nothing was going to happen to you, but there was some small voice in the back of your head that told you something was going to go awry.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the floral-patterned chair. Part of you was grateful that the team had enough faith in you to send you to get a confession on your own, but another part of you wished someone would’ve asked you if this is really what you want to do. Sure, you wanted Johnathan Klein to be put away for a long time, but you didn’t want to be in this house. When you left, you had hoped you’d never have to set foot in this godforsaken town ever again.

Sitting up straight, the front door opened. You’re not sure why he opens the door when there’s a hole in the wall leading right to you. “I thought you might come looking for me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I always knew you’d come back to me, baby,” Johnny spoke to you in a low voice, but you knew the team could hear.

“I didn’t come here for you, Johnny,” you whispered, keeping your voice steady. “I came for the girls who were murdered. I knew them, we both did,” you told him. That was the truth, you felt like you owed them because they died while you got to live.

He sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee. It was all you could do to not flinch away from him. “Then why did you bring that guy? If not to make me jealous, then why?”

“Johnny, if I go with you, will it stop?” You asked, turning to him, reaching out your hand, and placing it on his arm.

Humming, he reached out and brushed your hair behind your ear, luckily not the side where you had your earbud in. “I don’t know what you mean, babe. You’ll have to spell it out for me,” he said, pulling you to your feet abruptly. You didn’t see the knife when he first walked in, you didn’t even know he had it until it was to your throat.

But you weren’t twenty years old anymore. You had grown up. You had learned self-defense.

So, you caught him off guard when you hit him, causing the knife to clatter to the ground. “You bitch!” He growled, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You won’t kill me,” you said, planting your feet on the ground. “You had five years to kill me, Johnny.”

He stood up, “No, but I killed a part of you. Didn’t I? When I killed your baby?”

After all these years, he knew how to get under your skin. He got one hit off, across your cheek, the strike so hard that your earbud went flying across the room. “You killed the part of me that you created, that’s not who I am. I recreated myself, a version of myself without this godforsaken town.”

“But I got you here, back home. I killed all those girls for you to come back to me,” he said, running straight at you.

You hit him with your gun, you physically struck him with the butt of the gun. You could’ve shot him, it would’ve been clean, but you didn’t. That would’ve been easy for him. He dropped like a ragdoll and the rest of your team came rushing in. Someone was calling your name, but you couldn’t hear.

Matt ended up being the one who cuffed him, you slowly walked away from them. Backing yourself into a wall, you watched it all happen.

When you left your hometown, you never quite felt like it was over. He was always still going to be around. But this? This felt final.

It made your chest ache.

Gently, Spencer took your hand and led you outside. “It’s done?”

He nodded rapidly, “It’s over, angel. Emily and Luke are at the precinct taking Frank into custody. They’ll both go away for a long time.”

“Spence, I want to go home,” you whispered, looking down the road and seeing houses that you recognize from your childhood. This whole town was filled with your own ghosts. “Can we go home?”

Spencer didn't answer, he just pulled you into him and held you tightly. You let him inspect the wound on your cheek before you went back to the hotel and put everyone’s belongings in an SUV.

On the jet, the two of you sequestered yourselves in the back where it’s darker. He offered to let you lie down, so you rested your head in his lap. He used one hand to hold his book and the other to smooth your hair back. Your eyes were shut, but you were vaguely aware of the rest of the team as they took turns peeking back at the both of you.

you could stay

please remember to like, reblog, and comment

[radawaycunt]

Saw you were taking Lucius Verus requests 👀

Perhaps something along the lines of Lucius rescuing reader from trouble. Hurt/comfort? I just know those biceps could hold me all day…

(if you write this can you tag me pls)

Oooooh thanks for requesting!!

(For the sake of this scenario, let’s say Lucius was allowed to walk the streets of Rome. Tw // mild violence)

————

“Fifteen denarii? For this?” You raised your eyebrows at the textile merchant, pointing at the swath of fabric you’d been sampling. “You must take me for a fool."

He frowned, his screwed up face uglier and even less friendly than before. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"For the quality, this is ten at best! And that’s being generous!”

"How dare you!" He spat, causing the stall's guard to take a menacing step forward. "This is genuine Tarentum wool!"

"I own such wool, and it doesn't feel nearly as coarse as this," you scoffed, tossing the fabric back at him. "You are scamming people with fakes."

"You forget yourself, woman," the guard said, his voice gruff.

He raised a large, meaty hand with the intent to strike you across the face and you flinched, trying to cover yourself with your hands. You grit your teeth in anticipation...

But the startling pain never came. You dared to look up as you heard the guard's confused grunt, and you saw that another man had caught his wrist.

"I would really advise against that," the man said, a dangerous edge to his tone.

"And who are you!? This does not concern you!" The merchant said, turning his glare away from you. "She was trying to tarnish my business!"

"Not without good reason, I suspect."

The guard tried to shove him off, but the man swiftly spun away from from his reach and punched him square in the face. You clambered backward as a full on brawl broke out between them, breaking the table where all the different pieces of textile were displayed. Your first instinct was to flee, but as you turned to run, a hand caught your arm.

"And just where do you think you're going?" the merchant sneered, his grip tight enough to bruise. "Look what you have caused!"

He backhanded you harshly, and at your cry, your savior knocked the guard unconscious and whirled around. There was fury in his gaze as he saw you cradling one side of your face with your free hand, and he took up the fallen guard's sword.

"Let go of her," he said slowly, pointing the tip of the sword at the merchant. "Or I'll cut off your hands."

Begrudgingly, the merchant let you go, and your savior nodded at you to get behind him. You hurried towards him without a second thought, instinctively holding onto his tunic. The two men stared at each other for a tense moment, poised to strike.

"I should cut them off anyway, so you may never strike a woman again," he spat, but lowered the sword.

"Get the fuck out of here," the merchant growled, his teeth clenched. "If I ever see either of you around here again, I'll have you killed."

Your savior did not even react to the threat, instead glancing at you over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

He tossed the sword on the ground and led you away, hovering close behind you to make sure no one else tried anything. Out in the busy street, he stopped you so he could examine your face, frowning. His thumb traced your cheekbone ever so lightly, which was just beginning to turn faintly purple.

You looked at him more closely, as well, pinned in place by the concern in his crystalline blue eyes. He was handsome in an almost divine way, like the personification of the god of war, Mars. He certainly fought like him, too, an undercurrent of violence under the flex of his muscles.

But you were not afraid of him, instead just awed that he had done it all in your defense.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours.

You shook your head. "Just a dull throb now. Won't look so pretty for a while, though..."

"You needn't be concerned about that," he said, his hand retreating.

You swallowed hard, your face heating up at the insinuation. "I--Thank you for saving me, um..."

"Lucius, he said. "Lucius Verus."

"Thank you, Lucius," you said. "Surely I would be worse off if it hadn't been for you. Aren't you afraid he might call the Praetorian guard?"

"He won't. He would have to answer too many other questions that I'm sure he would prefer not to, especially about his business practices..."

You nodded, letting out a breath as you felt a little more relieved. You felt the urge to hug him, but instead you took both of his hands and squeezed them appreciatively.

"May the Gods bless you always, Lucius Verus."

He squeezed your hands back and smiled, inclining his head graciously.

"And you," he said, then glanced around at the busy crowd of the market. "I should like to be your personal guard for the rest of the day, if you'd let me escort you."

Your smile widened. "Well, I would never dream of declining such generous offer."

-----------

[love-byers]

sus music editing in s4 byler scenes (a saga)

i've been wanting to do this for a while but never got around to it. i recommend watching the video attachment (at the end of the post) after reading the whole post, just so you'll have context when watching

ALRIGHT!

will and mike are interrupted in the majority of their solo scenes. the scene in jonathan's room, the scene in will's room, the scene on the car, & the scene in the cabin. i noticed a long time ago that the songs used in the first 3 scenes listed build up for the first half and then kind of explode for the second half. there's a point where the song changes/released after the buildup.

the songs are:

eight fifteen (jonathan's room)

on the bus (will's room)

letter to willy (talk on the car)

BUT, in will's room & the car scene, mike and will are interrupted almost right before the song is supposed to climax. i lined the songs up and listened and i'm right. interestingly, in the scene in will's room, on the bus is edited. in the scene, the song starts like normal at the start of the song. but they cut the middle out so it would skip right to the part RIGHT before the climax of on the bus. THEY DID THAT. so at the very end of the scene just before they get interrupted, the song is teetering on the edge of the big explosive part of the song, but it doesn't happen because they're interrupted and the song ends. in the car scene letter to willy is also edited. maybe im wrong, but there's a note i hear in the car scene that i cannot find anywhere in the song. so it seems like they're purposefully using songs that are building to something but cut off right before the pay off of the buildup. i wouldn't be capitalizing on this so much if 90% of the scenes this happens in werent mike and will staring into each other's souls and then having their gazes torn from each other, but they are. so take that as you will.

now we need to talk about eight fifteen. this is fucking wild.

eight fifteen is all build up for the first half. then there's a moment where it teeters on the edge for a second, and then BOOM! release & loud pretty synths. i lined it up, and the 'teetering' part of the song is in the scene in jonathan's room, but like the others, it's edited. but this one is WAY more crazy.

the song starts from the beginning when will sits on the bed next to mike. it builds while mike talks about his problems with el and not saying the thing she wants. then will says "look, mike, you're gonna see her again, and whatever it is you didn't say, you can say it to her then, okay?" the teetering part starts when will says

"look" and goes all the way until he says "then"

when he says "then", that is the moment when the buildup is supposed to release. but in this scene, it doesn't happen. instead, when he finishes talking, specifically when he says "then" the note kind of trails off. it sounds weird. it's unsatisfying. there was no payoff to all that buildup. i've seen plenty of other tv shows where this is used to emphasize the face that there was no payoff. something in the scene was anticlimactic. something that they wanted to happen or were expecting to happen didnt. the characters are disappointed or left hanging.

and when that note trials off, mike says

"yeah...yeah" and looks down, looking upset and conflicted and disappointed

he wanted will to say something else. will saying "you can say it to her then, okay?" disappointed mike. that's not what he wanted to hear. i think mike wanted will to reassure him and tell him he doesn't have to say something he doesn't mean or doesn't want to say, and that when they see el again mike can explain himself. mike desperately wants to be told he doesn't have to pretend to be in love with el if that's not how he really feels. he wants to be told that el won't be angry if he's honest with her about his true feelings for her, which are platonic. (hence why he later nods after will says 'what if they don't like the truth?')

but will doesn't understand that. will thinks they are in love, he thinks they're perfect. so in his mind, it's fine because mike can just say it when he sees el again. but he thinks that because he thinks mike actually means it, when in reality he doesn't. and by doing that, will only further pushed mike into giving his false confession. now mike thinks even more that he just has to spit it out and tell el what she wants to hear even if it's not how he really feels. this just breaks my heart because mike is so hated on but he's a GOOD BOY💔💔 he's just a 14 year old kid who's afraid of failing the people he cares about but also hates lying about his feelings and just wants to feel free from the expectations others have for him. he just wants someone, specifically will, to tell him it's okay, and that he doesn't owe anyone anything, especially not his own feelings. and it hurts extra bad because if will knew the truth about mike not loving el he would shower him in support because of course mike shouldn't have to lie just because it's what el wants to hear.

and just in case anyone tries to say otherwise, YES mike lied in the monologue. it doesn't need to be proven, it's simply canon.

like there's no denying this. believing it's just a mistake by the writers before believing mike lied is CRAZY heteronormative copium. like come on💀

anyways, the things mike says and does in the scene in jonathan's support this theory. he threw away el's note. "a fight you cant come back from" "maybe if i just said that thing then things would be different" his phrasing sticks out so much. "said that thing" and not "told her" or "told her how i feel". to mike it's just saying words he doesn't want to say. and "a fight you cant come back from" its almost like he's hinting to will that he and el need to break up and he's hoping will will catch on and support him. he trusts will and values his opinion and wants his support. usually he and will very easily communicate non verbally and are naturally in tune with what the other is thinking and feeling, but this time will doesn't catch on (because of his own heteronormativity and assumption that mike and el are in love), and mike is disappointed. he brings this up over and over, like he isn't satisfied with will's answer, and is a little more honest every time. the only thing that seemingly satisfied mike was hearing will's feelings. why did it even get that far?? why would what will said in jonathan's room not suffice if he is actually in love with el??? it just doesn't make sense.

(unless it actually makes perfect sense)

i'm very confident in this since this lies less with the continuity within stranger things itself and more with basic film/video/sound editing. i even got some comments from editors/musicians who agreed with me!

"It's a tactic I've actually used before in editing. It keeps the audience engrossed, and really makes it FEEL interrupted for the audience."

"Woah that's crazy! And it literally stops on the fifth so it's totally legitimately unstable/ unresolved."

stopping on the fifth refers to a technique used in music composition to make a chord progression sound completed. i actually know a bit about this because i took music theory in college, but if anyone knows more than me feel free to share! a completed progression is like a circle. you must begin and end with the same chord. you start with one chord and move down a fifth to the next chord, and do that until you end up back at the original chord. that way it sounds nice and satisfying and completed. in 'on the bus', which the commenter was referring to, this process is cut short, which would serve no purpose other than making the music sound and feel incomplete or interrupted or unsatisfying.

if i just butchered that whole explanation please let me know, but im pretty sure that's accurate.

here is the video with two of the scenes i talked about, using 'Eight Fifteen' and 'On The Bus'

and just as a reminder, on the bus has only played twice in the entire show. first in the lumax talk on top of the bus in season 2, and second in the byler talk in will's room in s4. 🙂

anyways i hope this was comprehensible😅 i remember my tiktok followers being very confused so feel free to re read and re watch as many times as necessary or reply with any questions! and anyone who has more input on editing/music pls share with the class if you'd like!!

anyways byler endgame, thanks for reading

[keigosdear]

minors dni. 18+. fem!reader, no physical descriptions. this is soft and sweet and very a bit self indulgent. it’s literally all aftercare and emotions.

divider by @/cafekitsune

aftercare with atsumu is always so top tier. he’s a huge teddy bear, first of all, so the post sex cuddles are guaranteed to be so sweet. you’re usually exhausted after you finish with him- he’s come to realize just how greedy he gets once he has you underneath him, and while seeing your droopy eyes and blissed out expression fills him with pride, the way you immediately curl into your pillow and reject his request to get you cleaned up in favour of sleep, allows the guilt to creep in and take hold of his semi-clear mind as well.

so he’ll treat you like absolute royalty. anything you want? you’ll get. usually it’s cuddles, sometimes it’s a bath with him, he really doesn’t mind one bit.

all of that being said, when tonight’s activities are over and done with and you immediately cling to him and bury your face in his chest, he gets right to work.

well- tries to.

smoothing a finger over your warm, damp cheek to help ground you a bit, accompanied by a sturdy arm around your waist, he allows himself fifteen more seconds to admire your form.

“baby,” he makes sure to speak softly, knowing you’re probably still a little out of it. “will ya let me get up?”

the whine of protest that leaves your lips is barely audible, but he hears it.

and as always, he’s giddy over the knowledge that he’s the only one who will ever be tuned into you enough to hear it.

“need to clean ya up, sweet girl.”

to no one’s surprise, especially not his, you bury your face impossibly closer to his chest and utter out a quiet but very stubborn “no.”

he sighs and gently drags his nails across your back in mindless patterns. you’re clingy tonight- more than usual. he thinks back to what brought you both to this moment, trying to figure out if he pushed you a bit further than he normally would.

he doesn’t recall anything out of the ordinary… that’d be impossible, actually. he was real sweet on you the whole time. he couldn’t help it, he had come home to you wearing his clothes. that’s a guaranteed way to get him feeling all soft and sentimental and fuzzy and concupiscent-

now that he thinks about it… atsumu wouldn’t put it past you to get shy about asking for what you really wanted and plan something to get him to initiate it. but he doesn’t dwell on it. now he has a hypothesis to test.

he gently pries your face away from his skin and tilts your chin up. “baby, can ya look at me for a second?”

you flit your eyes up to his and he smiles. they’re still a bit glossed over. “there she is… hi pretty girl.”

the way you immediately try to hide your bright smile warms his heart so much that he risks spontaneously combusting. “don’t hide, baby, let me see ya.”

you whine as he pulls your hands away and try to hold eye contact with him. “such pretty eyes,” he flirts.

“are ya feeling a bit clingy after all that?”

you nod a little and tighten your hold around him as if to emphasize your point. “mhm,”

he sighs and decides that indulging you a bit more is exactly what he wants to be doing right now, anyway. “just in a bit of a mood, hm?”

you grunt in confirmation.

“did ya get what ya needed?” atsumu strokes your waist, watching your face for any changes that imply he hasn’t satisfied you in any way.

you nod again, eyes a bit less muddled now that he’s talking with you. he moves his hand down to rub the thigh draped over his hip. “tell me next time, ‘kay? ya don’t need to be afraid to tell me you want it a certain way.”

your lip forms a pout and he kisses it immediately. “‘m sorry, ‘tsum.”

he shuffles down a bit so that he’s face to face with you and nuzzles his nose against yours. “don’t be sorry, gorgeous, ya have nothin’ to apologize for.”

you giggle as he moves on to pressing soft kisses across your face and neck. “I’m here because I love you and want to fulfil your every desire, got it? let me take care of ya sometimes.”

you bat at his shoulder and through your laughter you insist, “you do take care of me! you do, ‘tsum!”

he laughs with you. “yeah, but let me do it more.”

your expression falters a bit and he knows he’s made it to the root of the problem. “but it would be selfish of me to ask for more from you. won’t you… get tired of me?”

his own features soften at your words and the insecurity in your voice. “sweetheart, you could ask me for the whole world and I’d never think of ya as selfish, got it? in fact I want ya to be selfish with me.”

you blink. “really?”

he nods and squeezes your hip. “really. and I could never ever get tired of ya. you’re my baby. okay?”

you caress his jaw with your knuckles and sniffle a bit, holding back tears. “okay. i love you,”

he kisses you slowly, gently, lovingly. “I love ya too. now, do you want to keep cuddling or can I clean ya up?”

you bite your lip a bit and grind your hips into his, looking up at him through your lashes. “actually… can we go for another round?”

he feels himself harden again and he grins, softly pushing you onto your back. he’s immediately switched on again and staring down at you with a familiar expression that makes your tummy twist in anticipation.

“‘course, angel,” atsumu leans down and whispers in your ear, his tone much darker than it was moments ago. “but only if you can tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

…I may expand on that last part in the future.

@nyctophilicroses ok. OK. I know I said geto was next, but something came over me and next thing I knew this one was finished 🥹

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 13

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: As Y/n spirals out of control, Feyre steps in, forcing a change that leaves the sisters at odds.

Warnings: substance abuse, mention of death, trauma, angst.

WC: 4 K.

A knock sounded on Y/n’s door. Then another, and another, insistent, until she finally opened it. She was high as hell on some new drug when she saw Azriel standing in the hallway. Squinting, she rubbed her eyes. 

“Am I hallucinating, or are you really here?” Her voice was languid, tinged with disbelief.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, scanning her face. “What the hell did you take?”

Y/n shrugged, swaying slightly. “What do you want? I think it’s too early in the morning. I just fell asleep. Come back another time.” She moved to close the door.

A groan sounded from her living room, low and slurred. Azriel’s brow furrowed as he glanced past her. “Who’s in there?” he demanded, his tone sharp.

“I don’t know,” she replied with a lazy shrug, her lips curling into a careless smile. “I don’t usually let anyone stay over. I guess whatever I took was good enough to make me forget.” She let out a giggle, her hand hovering over the door as she moved to shut it again. But before she could, Azriel’s foot slipped into the gap, holding the door open. His expression hardened as he stepped inside, casting a critical gaze around the dim room.  This was the first time he’d been here, though there wasn’t much to see.The sparse, cluttered apartment revealed little about her, save for the state of the coffee table, scattered with substances potent enough to kill with a single wrong dose. He wasn’t sure if she was lucky or if she hadn’t taken much, but judging by the state she was in, he guessed it was the former.

On her couch lay a male, barely conscious, his eyes glazed. But one piercing look from Azriel sent him scrambling out the door. Y/n pouted, throwing herself onto the couch where the male had been seconds earlier. 

“Aww, you scared the poor thing,” she murmured with a mock scold. 

Azriel’s jaw clenched. “What the hell is this, Y/n?” He gestured to the array of vials and powders on the table. A flicker of anger shadowed his eyes, tinged with something close to concern. She shrugged.

“Feyre wants you at the house,” he informed her, his voice taut.

“Which one? Doesn’t she, like, own a dozen?” she replied with an eye roll.

“The new one.”

She smirked, “And why send their lap dog? Couldn’t she have come herself?”

His gaze darkened. “Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court. She has more important things to do.”

“Since this is not important, she can come another day. When she’s not so busy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some sleep,” she muttered, closing her eyes and sinking back into the cushions.

“That’s not happening. I was specifically instructed to get you there by nine.”

She cracked one eye open, glancing at him with feigned irritation. “What time is it now?”

“Seven.”

“Then let me sleep for two hours, and then we can go.” She closed her eyes again.

Azriel folded his arms. “You need to look… presentable.”

“Fine. Whatever. Leave, and I’ll be ready by then,” she grumbled, rolling onto her side.

“The moment I leave, you’re going to fall asleep again.”

She huffed, opening her eyes fully to glare at him. “Fine. What will it take for you to stop talking?”

“You need to take a bath,” he replied, his voice still firm, ignoring her question.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Well, I’m not doing that while you’re standing here.”

He sighed, his expression exasperated. “I’ll get you some food. Just be done when I get back.”

When he returned with breakfast, she was nowhere in sight. He assumed she was still in the bathing chamber and set the food on the small table before scanning her chaotic apartment. Fifteen minutes passed, and concern began to cloud his patience. He knocked on the bathing chamber door, once, twice, three times. There was no answer. Then he asked, his voice tinged with worry.  “Y/n, are you in there? I’m coming in.”

She finally spoke, her tone sharp. “Don’t you dare.”

He exhaled, relief barely masking his frustration. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Mother above, I was just relaxing,” came her indignant reply.

“Be out in five minutes,” he ordered.

Her laughter was faintly mocking. “I don’t take orders from you.”

Azriel’s patience thinned, his tone sharpening. He was done playing her little games “Let me make this clear: if you’re not out in five minutes, I will have to come in and get you.”

“You’re such a brute,” she muttered, but after a pause, he heard movement. 

She emerged a few moments later, dressed and looking marginally more awake. He handed her a cup of tea, his expression still neutral.

“Did you put poison in it?” she quipped, an eyebrow raised.

“If I wanted you dead, that wouldn’t be the way I’d go about it,” he replied dryly.

She chuckled, amused. “Oh? And how would you do it? Please, do tell.” 

Azriel’s eyes lingered on her, a brief flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “You really don’t care, do you?”

“What’s there left to care about?” she replied, her voice hollow. “And if you say my sisters, I will electrocute you.”

“You still have your powers?” His question was calm, but his eyes searched hers intently.

Her gaze shifted, guarded. “That is none of your business.”

—

The riverfront house loomed before them, its elegant structure casting long shadows under the morning sun. Y/n gazed up at it with a flicker of disdain. She had been here only once before, when Feyre had shown her around during its construction. They even had a room made for her, not that she’d appreciate it.

The rooms had felt cold and empty then, even with her sister’s warmth. Now, they felt like a cage.

Azriel led her inside without a word, his pace brisk and purposeful. The scent of fresh wood and lavender filled the air, but it only heightened her unease. The inside was as pristine and lifeless as she remembered. Her gaze flicked over the walls adorned with portraits, smiling faces of people she knew. But there were none of her, none of Nesta, and none of their mother. She felt the absence like a sharp knife to her chest. 

Y/n loved her mother dearly. With her, she had been different—kind, caring. Everything a mother should be. At least, that’s how Y/n remembered her. She had been four and a half when her mother had Nesta, and even at a young age, Y/n could recall how happy her mother had been before marrying her sisters’ father. He hadn’t been horrible to her; on the contrary, he had given her a luxurious life and loved her deeply. But she did not love him. She had married him for stability, and for Y/n’s sake, and then she had his children.

Although her mother grew colder with time, Y/n never felt the brunt of it. She had been her favorite, her constant, and she knew from a young age that she was destined to grow into a stubborn woman. Her mother had believed Elain would marry for love—she looked like a doll, after all. She trained Nesta to marry a prince and mostly ignored Feyre. Y/n, however, was simply allowed to be. She had been spoiled, indulged, never told no.

She had enjoyed dressing up, but not the attention that came with it. Balls were tolerated, not loved. She would attend one or two with her mother, then leave the rest for Nesta. She even endured dancing and etiquette lessons with her sister but never stayed long enough for them to leave an impression. They just didn’t interest her. What did interest her was adventure—exploring new places, finding hidden corners of their world. She had done that with her childhood friend. But that was a story for another time.

The scent of lavender snapped her back to the present, clashing with the memories that swirled like smoke in her mind. Those fleeting moments of joy and comfort felt so distant now, their warmth overshadowed by the cold reality of the house she now stood in.

Azriel led her into the spacious sitting room, where Feyre, Rhys, Amren, and Cassian were gathered, their expressions expectant. 

Y/n leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms as a smirk tugged at her lips.

“So, this is what kept you too busy to fetch me yourself?” Her tone was cutting, her gaze flicking to Feyre.

Rhys bristled immediately. “She doesn’t have to answer to you,” he snapped.

Feyre rested a calming hand on his arm, but her gaze remained steady on her sister. “You look like hell. I heard you had a rough night.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smirk widening. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It is,” Amren interjected, her voice like steel. “When you spend exorbitant sums on substances and parties...You and your sister.” She shook her head, clearly disappointed.

Y/n scoffed, ignoring her, and flicked her gaze back to Feyre. “Why is she even here?” 

“We’re here to have a discussion with you,” Feyre said evenly.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. “We? I don’t want to discuss anything with you.”

“You will sit and listen,” Rhys ordered, his voice cold.

Her posture straightened, her smirk vanishing. “Do not tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you.” Her words were sharp, deliberate, and the tension in the room rose several notches. 

Cassian exhaled heavily, muttering under his breath. “Mother above. You are just like your sister.” 

Y/n turned to glare at him, her voice dripping with venom, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Yet here you are, panting after her like a stray dog.”

“That is enough,” Feyre said sharply, her authority cutting through the brewing argument, before Cassian could respond. She turned to look at Rhys and the others. “I told you to keep out of it. You can either leave or stay and keep your mouths shut.” Then she focused on her sister again. “Y/n, you need to make some changes.”

“Like hell I do,” Y/n shot back.

Feyre softened her tone, standing up and taking a step closer. “Listen, I know you’ve had it rough. I understand how you’re feeling-”

“You understand nothing about how I’m feeling,” Y/n interrupted, her voice rising.

“Then talk to me,” Feyre pleaded. “Tell me.”

“I’d rather drown myself,” Y/n spat, her eyes flashing with defiance.

Feyre’s expression hardened. “And that’s exactly why things are going to have to change. Starting now.”

“Oh?” Y/n arched a brow, her smirk icy. “You think you can do anything about it?” 

Feyre squared her shoulders, her voice steady. “The life you’ve been living the past year is over. You will move to the House of Wind and train with Cassian and Nesta in Windhaven.”

A snort escaped Y/n as she shook her head. “Is this a joke?”

“No,” Feyre said. “Elain is packing your things as we speak. You’ll move in after this meeting.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

Amren’s sharp voice cut through. “This is not up for negotiation.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed, her defiance unwavering. “And if I refuse?”

“You’ll either go to the House of Wind or back to the mortal lands, Amren replied coldly, offering her the same deal they had offered Nesta.

“That’s not an option,” Feyre clarified quickly, casting a warning glance at Amren. Apparently, they forgot to mention to Amren that Y/n is not like Nesta. When it came to her pride, Y/n’s was a fortress, unyielding and absolute; she would sooner die than  allow anyone to tear her down. And seeing as she had wanted to leave long before the war with Hybern, this wasn’t an option. If they thought the threat of the mortal lands would deter her, they were sorely mistaken- she’d choose them in a heartbeat, and Feyre knew that.

Y/n’s grin returned, but it was colder, crueler. “Interesting. It’s like you knew what I’d choose.” She turned her mocking gaze to Feyre. “I’m not going back to that house.”

Feyre faltered for a moment. “Well, you can’t go back to your apartment either. You’ve burned through all your money,” Amren interjected coolly.

“Amren-” Feyre warned, her tone low, but Y/n cut her off.

“That’s fine,” Y/n said with a careless shrug. “There are plenty of ways to make money.”

“Rhys offered you so many positions, and you turned down every single one,” Feyre reminded her, her voice tight with frustration.

“And I never will. I will not work for your mate,” Y/n replied with a sneer.

“You wouldn’t last a day,” Cassian muttered. “Rhys could have every employer in Velaris turn you away with a single word.”

Y/n’s sharp gaze shifted to him, looking him up and down like he was nothing, a dangerous smile tugging at her lips. “And you think that would be a problem for me?” 

“I know it wouldn’t,” Feyre interjected. “And I know you’d rather go back to the mortal lands than face any of us or your problems, which is why that is not an option.”

Y/n’s smirk twisted, colder now. “Well, I’ll just walk there then.”

“Again, not an option,” Feyre repeated.

“So, what? You’re going to drag me to the House of Wind against my will?” Y/n’s voice dripped with mockery., her arms crossing tighter over her chest.

“If that’s what it takes,” Rhys said, his tone calm but his jaw tight with restraint.

“Lo and behold,” Y/n clapped her hands slowly, her smirk sharp. “The people fighting for freedom and free will are the same people who want to lock me up. Magnificent. Could’ve fooled me with that act.”

“Y/n, you’re not well,” Feyre pressed, her voice soft . “We’re not keeping you a prisoner.”

Y/n let out a short, bitter laugh. “Coming from the girl who let her ex lock her up for months and stayed with him? I don’t think you understand the definition of being a prisoner.”

“Do not talk to your sister like that,” Rhys said, his voice lowering as he rose up from his seat and took a step forward, his tone darkening. 

“Oh, so you and your self-righteous clowns are allowed to say and do whatever you like, but when someone else gives you a taste of your own medicine, you can’t handle it?” Y/n’s sharp gaze darted between Rhys and Feyre, her words deliberate.

Feyre took a breath, trying to steady herself. “Y/n, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Y/n shot back, her words biting. “You’d just tell me to move in with that brute and Nesta, that I’d have no say in the matter, and I’d just thank you for it?”

“I- I didn’t want it to come to this,” Feyre stammered, the weight of her words visible in her expression. “But with the amount of money you’ve spent on your nightly activities-”

“Oh! There it is.” Y/n cut her off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You’re saying I owe you, aren’t you?”

Feyre flinched at the accusation but didn’t back down. She didn’t want to say that, but she knew  it was the only way Y/n would stay. If she felt like she owed someone a debt. So, she nodded.

“Because my life wasn’t enough for you. My help wasn’t enough?” Y/n’s said, her voice low, dripping with venom. “Fine, you got what you wanted. I’ll stay until my debt is paid.”

The silence that followed was heavy, every word reverberating in the space between them. Finally, Y/n’s tone dropped further, each word laced with ice. “I’d like a word with your High Lady. Alone.” This was the first time Y/n had called her sister that, the title a deliberate choice. The formality of it created a barrier, a cold, impersonal distance that made it clear just how far apart they had grown.

The others hesitated, exchanging glances, but eventually filed out of the room. Rhys lingered by the doorway, his dark gaze warning, before following the others into the hall. They stayed close to intervene, should things spiral out of control.

When it was just the two of them, Y/n spoke again. “Why the sudden care?”

“I’ve always cared, Y/n” Feyre reached out, her hand brushing her sister’s arm.

“Don’t touch me,” Y/n snapped, stepping back sharpy, her eyes blazing with something Feyre couldn’t quite name.

“Y/n, please. I’m your sister.”

“And you only remembered that now? Because I spent a little bit more than usual?” Y/n’s voice cracked slightly, but her expression remained hard.

“A little more than usual?” Feyre’s tone rose slightly, the tension breaking through. “Do you know how much money that was? How embarrassed I was when Rhys got the bill-”

“So that’s what this is about?” Y/n interrupted. “I embarrassed you in front of your new family?... I think you stopped caring about us the moment you became High Fae.”

“You think I stopped caring about you?” Feyre’s voice trembled, and for a moment, the hurt in her eyes was almost too much to bear. “If I did, would I allow you to stay here, disrespect everyone, spend our money recklessly, and destroy yourself?”

“We are here because of you!” Y/n shouted, the words spilling out in anger. “Sometimes, I wonder what our lives would’ve been like if you had stayed dead.” The words left her mouth faster than she could stop them. So cold, and sharper than any blade. It was the last thing she wanted to say to her sister, but now it hung in the air, irreversible. Feyre’s face crumpled, the weight of the statement hitting her like a blow. 

“Oh,” Feyre whispered, her voice barely audible. “I guess we’ll never know.” 

Y/n turned her gaze away, her expression unreadable, but her hands trembled slightly at her sides. “Once the debt is paid,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. “I want to leave. And I never want to see you again.” 

Feyre blinked, struggling to hold back tears. “Y/n, please-”

“No,” Y/n cut her off, her tone final. “We’re done.”

Y/n had perfected this- pushing away anyone who dared to show they cared about her. With those chilling words, she turned on her heel, striding to the door. She yanked it open and stepped into the hall, where the others stood waiting. Azriel’s heart ached at the sight of her in this state. He had stayed silent through it all, unable to find the right words or intervene in the confrontation. When she stepped out of the room, he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of his silence pressing heavily on him.

To Cassian’s surprise, Y/n didn’t say anything when he flew her to the house. The flight was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic beat of his wings and the rush of the wind. She stared right ahead, her posture tense but her face carefully blank.

They made sure to place Nesta and Y/n on two separate floors, seeing as they weren’t on speaking terms. No one knew why, and they didn’t dare ask. Feyre hoped they’d at least train together, but Y/n made it clear that she doesn’t wish to be in the same room as her sister. 

When they landed, Cassian let her step down before speaking. “You still have your Illyrian leathers from the war? You’ll need them tomorrow,” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“I’m never wearing that thing again,” Y/n replied, her tone icy.

“It’s going to be cold. You’ll need them.” He hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully.

“You’ll be on your own floor. Nesta has settled in her old room. Mine is a level above, and Az’s is just down the hall from me,” Cassian informed her, his tone soft and cautious, despite the tension between them.

Y/n glanced around the sprawling House, her expression still unreadable. “He’ll stay here with us?” she asked flatly, her gaze flicking to the horizon.

“When he’s in Velaris, yes,” he replied, watching her closely. “Don’t worry, though. You won’t see him much.”

“Good.” Her voice was clipped, her eyes fixed on the mountains in the distance. But beneath her detached tone, a storm churned. The mention of Azriel, his proximity stirred emotions she couldn’t quite place, ones she had long since tried to bury. She had told herself it didn’t matter, that his presence or absence had no bearing on her. And yet, the idea of him being just down the hall brought with it an uneasy tension, one she refused to examine too closely.

Her gaze remained fixed on the distant peaks as though they could steady her. She couldn’t let her thoughts stray, couldn’t afford to acknowledge the flicker of something unfamiliar threading through her otherwise rigid defenses. It was nothing, she told herself firmly, Just an echo of some old familiarity. Nothing more.

Cassian tilted his head slightly, studying her before hesitantly asking. “Did something happen between you and Az?” 

Her head snapped toward him. “No. Why would you think that?” she replied dryly, her posture stiffening.

“It’s just… before the war, you two seemed to get closer and now-”

“Your observation is wrong,” she interrupted, her voice flat and dismissive. “There was nothing to begin with.”

“Whatever you say.” Cassian raised his hands slightly, signaling he wouldn’t push further. “You should eat something. You’ll need all the energy you can get for training tomorrow.”

“I’m not training with you. Especially not at that horrible place.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. “Don’t you have a debt to repay?”

“I’d rather see that place burned to the ground than train there,” she snapped.

“You sound like Az,” Cassian muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he turned away.

—

That night was a horrible one for Y/n. She had nothing to dull the pain, to quiet the voices in her head, and mostly, to stop the nightmares. She screamed her father’s name in her sleep as she watched his death replay over and over again in her mind. 

Azriel had just returned from wherever he had been, and the sound of her screaming pulled him toward her room like a magnet. He stopped just outside her door, hesitating. He knew she didn’t want him there, or around, she had made that clear. She didn’t want his help, didn't want his presence, didn’t want anything to do with him since the war. But the sound of her suffering clawed at him, each scream like a blade twisting in his chest, a cruel reminder of how powerless he felt to reach her.

He debated whether to go in and wake her or just stand there and wait for the nightmare to pass. As another anguished cry shattered the silence, he decided to go with the former as he couldn’t just stand by and listen. He reached for the door, his resolve firm, until his shadows whispered, informing him that she had just woken up. 

His hand froze, hovering over the handle. Relief flooded him, but so did disappointment. He stood there, torn. He wanted to hold her, help her, tell her it would be okay, to be the comfort she wouldn’t let herself have. But he knew better. She would never let him in, not in that way- not now, not ever.

Inside, Y/n sat upright in the bed, her breathing ragged. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to block out the lingering images of her father’s death. The nightmares had been worse than usual, sharper, more vivid, without anything to dull the edges. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to steady herself.

Azriel lingered outside her door for a moment longer, his shadows brushing against the wood like a quiet offering of solace. When the silence in her room stretched, he finally turned and walked away, his footsteps silent as he made his way to his own quarters.

Tags: : @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo

[itgirlgyu]

ꢾ𓍢ִ໋　‎ ‎‎ ‎ : ‎ how would enhypen react to you farting?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎enha x 𝒢en!reader. ⠀𓈒 ◌⠀humor! headcanons. 🗯 wc ˒ 0654! warnings── ✩͏ this isn't even my fault if you really think about it. it's actually heeseungs fault. ever since he said he liked when engenes fart it has been on my head constantly. ︶ིྀᩧ 𝒫 ls don't read it if you're sensitive. ༄

──HEESEUNG ˒

looks at you with so much shock that you feel like you've done extremely something wrong to him.

but then breaks out in the biggest grin ever.

gets cozy and clingy to you while pulling out an air freshener out of nowhere.

“I've always kept this on me dreaming of day, you've made me the happiest man ever.”

and you're like… okay? but you don't hate it of course.

“that means you eat well silly, I'm so happy. “

sets this as an anniversary date in his phone as "fartversary" in front of you to celebrate and then skips away to reserve dinner reservation to celebrate it further.

──JAY ˒

gazes at you with his eyes brimming with understanding and acceptance.

places his band on top of yours in a silent acknowledgement and you almost tear up with embarrassment but he thinks it's out of love so it works out fine.

says he's going to get the air freshener but comes back with a cake and party poppers.

he really wants to celebrate this new step into the relationship with you

and who are you to deny him.

you see him crossing out something in his phone but you don't dare question the rest of the relationship steps.

──JAKE ˒

you blame it on his dog.

and he's like, “damn i gotta focus on her diet what is she eating to stink up the house like that.“

it makes you want to cry but at least he doesn't pry about it further.

but snowballs into him taking his dog to the vet to see what changes need to made into its diet and you're biting your nails in horror.

you don't know if you should come clean or not.

the fear slowly begins to draw its claw into your skin as you tether on the edge of over thinking that jake is already aware of it.

you let it fester until you can't take it anymore and confess it to him one day.

jake: oh okay.

──SUNGHOON ˒

knows you did it but he doesn't want to embarrass you so he doesn't even mention it.

but you can see him struggling

his eyeballs are shaking rapidly as he tries to talk while holding his breath to make it seem like he really didn't hear or smell anything.

although he's not breathing until all of the smell goes away

he may love you enough not to mention your stink attack but there's no way he's inhaling your toxic fumes.

──SUNOO ˒

looks at you in shock while you're in the middle of ripping it out.

frozen in shock, but in a demure way, through the whole thing.

when you try to make a joke about it, he tells you to cut it out.

it was very traumatic for him to hear you fart for more than fifteen seconds

and he'd like forget about it.

you don't know if you should try your luck or not but meekly you put forth the suggestion that he can do it as well.

but the look of horror and contempt he throws your way makes it clear he would actually break up if you bring it up again once more.

──JUNGWON ˒

does not mention it, doesn't acknowledge it, doesn't even move an inch.

you might think he turned into a statue due to shock.

so you try to ease the situation.

“jungwon i think I did i—”

“no you did not.”

although he's concerned about your stomach so after a while he's like, why don't we try to drink antacid for fun?

──RIKI ˒

gets scared at the sound but then tries to play it off because he's a tough guy.

but he's also a softie inside.

so to make you feel at ease he rips one as well.

looks at you with a generous smile like damn where will you find a man like that?

it may or may not develop into a farting competition.

© ITGIRLGYU⠀⠀. feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated!

TAGLiST @ox1-lovesick @jisungsdaydreamer @wonioml @1921choi @forever-in-the-sky2 @beoms-sugar @gyuletters

[janeyseymour]

Just Sex

Summary: Melissa is hooking up with the chief at the firehouse, so you decide that you can have your own fun.

WC: ~2.1k

After the failed relationship and proposal with Gary, Melissa has been going out to bars and staying out late at night. She finds herself in bed with quite a few men and women, and while she’s not thrilled that she’s back to this lifestyle, she’s impressed that she still has what it takes. Getting older did not make it any easier to attract people.

But then one night she sees the fire chief out at the bar, one thing leads to the other, and they’re in a friends with benefits sort of situationship.

Of course, all of this comes out when you’re renewing your CPR training certificate with the Abbott clan, and Barbara has made it quite clear that she’s upset Melissa didn’t tell her of this relationship before.

You had been busy trying to pass your test, but now it’s your partner’s turn to go, and you tune back into the world around you.

“But if I were gonna label it, I would say it’s just sex,” you hear Melissa tell her work wife in a low voice.

You don’t really know what she’s talking about, but you shrug it off. That is, until Janine comes back into the room and asks for the gossip. Barbara of course goes off, claiming that her friend of over fifteen years trusts her no more than a common street stranger. It becomes apparent to you that whatever hookup situation they’re talking about has been going on for a bit of time now. You feel a nasty pit settle in your stomach at that.

That pit only grows when you go out with the crew after the CPR course to celebrate the fact that you all passed. Of course, conversation leads back to Melissa and Jacob both having sexual relations with people from the firehouse.

“Well, I think I blew that one,” Jacob groans as he finishes off his aperol spritz. “But let’s talk about you, Mel Mel.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” the redhead waves him off. “It’s just casual sex.”

“Casual sex that’s been going on for how long?” Barbara asks with a raised brow.

Melissa purses her lips as she thinks. “Couple weeks now?”

“A month,” Jacob cuts in. “C’mon, Melissa. When are you just going to admit that you like him?”

“I do not,” she states very clearly. “I just need something to take the edge off for me, and… he does that.”

“How kinky is it?” Ava asks, a smirk on her face.

Jacob opens his mouth, and Melissa very quickly shoves her hand over his mouth. “You say a word, and you’re out on the curb faster than you were out with Zach.”

The man’s eyes widen, and he nods quickly. She pulls her hand away from his mouth, and he breathes a deep sigh in relief. 

“I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” the second grade teacher says as she finishes off her beer.

Barb turns to look at her work wife with a curious face. She knows of the little crush that her best friend has on you. Melissa just nods at the kindergarten teacher’s silent question.

But you don’t take it that way, because you have no idea that Melissa has had her eye on you since before she broke it off with Gary. You see it that you have no chance with your favorite coworker at all.

Feeling as though you could burst into tears at any given moment, you quietly excuse yourself from the rest of the outing and head for your apartment.

“What was that?” Melissa furrows a brow and purses her lips as she gazes in the direction that you left.

“I’m sure it was just a long day for her is all,” Janine tries to come up with some sort of logistical reason as to why you would leave early. “I did have a meeting with her before school even started today, so she’s been up for quite some time.”

Everybody seems to accept that reasoning, and they continue on with their night.

The next day, you march yourself into Ava’s office bright and early.

“Girl, what are you doin? I’m tryna get this knot out of my back,” your principal groans as she shuts off her personal back massager.

“I need your help,” you tell her, not even bothering to acknowledge that she isn’t doing her job at all.

“With?” She leans forward just slightly in her chair.

You smile at her. “I know you know a bunch of people… set me up with someone?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs. “What’s gotten into you? Every other time I’ve asked if you want someone, you decline!”

“Just… thinking I should get myself out there,” you shrug. “You know? If Melissa can do it, so can I.”

Ava’s jaw drops. “So this is about Melissa.”

“What?”

“I knew you had the hots for her!” the principal grins. 

“What? Not! I- I just figured, if everyone else can have at it, so can I?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs in your face. “This ain’t you at all, but I am in full support of it. Give me til the end of the day, and I’ll have someone for you.”

You end up going out with a woman that night that Ava set you with, and you do end up actually liking her… and she’s pretty damn good in bed.

The next morning, you’re practically glowing while you drink your morning coffee in the break room. Julie, the woman that you ended up in bed with last night, is texting you about maybe meeting up again later this week.

And if you weren’t still in love with the redhead that comes in a few seconds later, you would say yes. Instead, you send her a text that says, Maybe. Kinda busy the next couple weeks.

She texts you back a picture… a rather scandalous picture. And you blush when you see it.

“What’s got you all giddy today?” the redhead asks as she leans over. She sees the picture before you can close out of it, and her eyebrows creep up her head.

“Who’s that?”

You shrug. “Just someone Ava set me up with.”

“Ava?” Melissa asks in disbelief. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not long,” you tell her. “It’s just sex, really.”

The redhead folds her arms over her chest. “I didn’t think you were like that.”

“I’m not, but I figured I might as well give it a shot,” you say. “Now, I have to head to my room to finish up some of my grading, but I’ll see you later.”

You don’t have any intention to see her later. And you don’t. You pull back from her and her group- although most of them still find their ways to you. It’s mostly just the redheaded second grade teacher that you avoid. And it happens that way for a few more days.

You’re in the break room heating up your lunch when Ava comes in. “Girl! Are you gonna text Julie back or not?”

Melissa makes her way in, and you sigh. “It’s just sex. I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” you unintentionally repeat what the second grade teacher had said out at the bar. The microwave indicates that your food is finished, and you pull it out before heading back down to your classroom for lunch.

You miss the scowl on Melissa’s face, but Ava sure as hell doesn’t.

“Girl, you jealous or something?” the principal leans in with a smirk.

“What would I be jealous of?”

“That someone else is hitting that hot piece of ass,” Ava says like it’s obvious. The second grade teacher rolls her eyes, but Ava continues. “I see the way you look at her. Practically undressing her with your eyes every time she walks into the room.”

Melissa crosses her arms again. “I can’t believe you set her up with someone if you knew I like her.”

“I was hoping it would give you a swift kick in the ass that she was gonna start hoeing it up,” Ava shrugs. “Now admit that you’re jealous before everyone else comes in here.”

“Okay, I’m jealous,” the redhead relents. “But it don’t matter anyway. She isn’t lookin’ for anyone- she just said that.”

“She said, and I quote, ‘I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along. And girl, you’re that person for her!”

Everyone else starts filing in, and Ava makes it so that she looks impossibly bored, although she is actually quite the opposite. “Okay, I’m leaving this snooze fest.” She heads out, but not before giving Melissa a subtle wink and tap on the wrist. “Get it, girl.”

That day, Melissa sits thoughtfully during her lunch period about what Ava said… maybe she’s right? But she can’t be sure, so after dismissal duty, the fiery second grade teacher heads down to the front office and bursts into the principal’s office.

“Schemmenti,” Ava grins. “You do it yet?”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ until I’m positive Y/N has a thing for me too,” Melissa sits down across from the woman. “So tell me what you know.”

Ava spends a long time telling the redhead about the various times she’s caught you checking Melissa and only Melissa out, how you always seem to linger around her during events, how the two of you are almost always partners for things now and how you being around always makes her soft and you absolutely bask in her warmth. She even confesses that you went down to her office to ask her to set you up because of Melissa.

“You convinced yet?” the principal asks after ten minutes.

Melissa bites her lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’d make a move quick though. She said something about potentially seeing Julie today.”

“Isn’t that going to piss off your friend that Y/N might leave her for me?”

“She ain’t my friend,” Ava says as she files her nails. “I made a dating profile for Y/N and picked the first mildly attractive woman I saw.”

“You’re unbelievable sometimes,” the redhead pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Maybe, but ain’t you gonna go get your girl?”

Melissa stands from her chair and thanks the principal before rushing out and down your hallway. She hopes to catch you before you head out for the night. And of course, because you’re a dedicated teacher, you’re still there prepping for tomorrow. She knocks on your doorframe and leans against it.

“Just a sec!” you reply cheerily, not turning around yet. You’re hands deep in soil for the gardening project that your students will be participating in tomorrow.

“I don’t got a second,” Melissa says. You whip around at her voice.

“Hey,” you sigh, all joy in your voice gone.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” the redhead tells you.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I want you to go out with me instead,” she tells you seriously.

“You’re dating the fire chief,” you deadpan.

“I ain’t dating nobody because the only person I want to date is you,” the redhead admits.

That gets you to drop the dirt that is currently in your hands. “What?”

“I told everyone I was just having casual sex and wasn’t looking for a relationship unless the right person came around because… because the only person I would want to be in a relationship is you, and I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“Melissa, are you an idiot?” You ask her. “I’ve shamelessly flirted with you since you broke it off with Gary and practically thrown myself at you in hopes that you would pick me instead of some random hookup.”

She crosses the room, and she’s kissing you before you even know what’s happening. You instinctively kiss her back, and… wow. When you pull away, you quickly wipe the dirt off of your hands before pulling her in close again.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” she pleads again.

“Don’t go out with the fire chief anymore,” you mumble against her lips.

She nods and mutters, “I already called it off. You cancel on Julie, and meet me at my place?”

You end up at Melissa’s house within the hour, and she wines and dines you. And then you end up in her bed seeing stars. Your legs tremble for what feels like forever before she makes her way back up to you.

“And just so you know,” she husks into your ear. “There ain’t nothin’ casual about this. This ain’t just sex.”

Tags: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22