#while waiting for assistance. and then you go to work for 8 hours !!

[headslikekites]

what if you: wanted to work on artfight prep

but god said: car break down be stressed forever

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (11) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of past experience of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts, business/property devt, and book talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; sexual content (making out - I know, finally) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 23.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii so this was quite the wait! We have come to the climax of the story and I'm both excited and terrified to share this with you. I have nothing more to say other than see you on the other side! 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Whenever Jungkook creates some distance between you and him, you often understand it. It’s his default, you think, and after learning about the pain he harbors from his childhood, you’ve come to accept it. You expect it, even. 

Recently though, he hasn’t been doing much of it. He often moves closer; sometimes, he lets you do it. Tonight, it’s both - he stands near you, he holds you, and he lets you slowly close the distance until you’re just a breath away. And for a brief moment, you think that he’d eliminate it altogether. 

But you’re not in some fantasy world, so when he pulls away, you’re reminded of who you are and who he is and that sliver of hope goes up in flames. 

“I—” he mumbles. 

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

You grab your bag then rush outside, exhaling the breath you were holding in and letting the shame fill you up as fast as the elevator reaches the first floor. You want to run to rid yourself of the embarrassment, maybe be irresponsible for once and get drunk just to forget. Maybe when you wake up in the morning, you’ll find out it was all a dream - you didn’t actually want to kiss your boss, you didn’t actually think he’d kiss you back, and he didn’t actually pull away, as if it stung him to touch you, as if it hurt him to try. 

But the thought doesn’t last long.

You get on a bus and convince yourself that staying sober tonight is a better option than reporting hungover to work tomorrow. You’ll feel embarrassed either way, but might as well be more professional about it, considering that what you’d almost done - and all the things you thought about - was nothing but that. You settle for just cup noodles for dinner; you don’t deserve anything nicer than that tonight. 

Sleep doesn’t come until past one later in the evening. You spend much of your time tossing and turning, trying hard to erase the image of Jungkook so close to you. 

But nothing works. All you see are his lips. All you can hear is his breathing. All you can smell is him. 

You wake up four hours later, exhausted and incredibly anxious for the day. You want it to be over already, and you half think of calling in sick but you know that’ll be too obvious. It could set off alarm bells to Jungkook and he might call and ask how you are, and that’s something you can’t deal with either. So you power through and nap in the car, not wanting to converse with Mr. Ri because you might tell him everything should he ask the right questions.

Your plan of action is to engage with Jungkook as little as you can, in any way that’s possible. You play around with things in his kitchen and make sure you have your back turned when he exits from his gym. The energy drink and glass of water are on the counter and you sense him lingering before he finally walks to his bedroom. You let some time pass before going to his closet to prepare his accessories for the day, then head back out, cooking his omelet as slowly as you can.

The clearing of his throat lets you know he’s done, and you glance at him before placing the dishes on the table. 

This isn’t the routine. You always fix his necktie once he shows up. It’s reflex for you, and you know that’s what he’s come to expect as well. 

But you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. It’s basically like re-enacting what happened last night and you can’t promise yourself that you won’t want to kiss him again when he’s that close. You can’t look him in the eyes, you can’t take in his scent, you can’t hear his breathing without remembering how he felt like. You know you can’t have it again, so you won’t even torture yourself even more than you already are.

His tie is slightly off and it disturbs you. He doesn’t move but he doesn’t ask you to fix it. 

You sigh to yourself. He’ll live. 

You eat quickly and it’s a contrast to him picking on his food. You’re tempted to ask if the dish isn’t to his liking, but you told yourself not to start conversations or engage in anything outside of work matters, and you’ll stick to that for as long as possible. 

“___.”

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve prepared your notes for today’s meetings,” you state before he could say anything more. “And I’m meeting with the marketing team about the additional promotional materials you wanted. Is there anything else you wish to add to the ones we talked about?”

“None for now. They can go ahead with my initial request,” he responds, his voice too soft than what you’re used to, but you don’t dare look up and meet his eyes.

You ask a few more questions and he responds accordingly. The silence is deafening and though you miss the playful banter that has become part of your mornings, you know you can’t get into that right now. Somehow, this is when you can’t act like everything’s normal. Your stupid mistake and foolish assumption is where you draw the line. You just hope the day ends quickly enough before you give in. 

Both of you head down to the car. Before going inside, you hear Jungkook ask Mr. Ri how he looks and if his tie is fixed, and you internally smack your head for being so petty about this. You didn’t think that something seemingly trivial about your daily routine with him would affect you this much, as if it somehow threw things off-balance just because you were so afraid to be close. You realize now that you would look forward to those few seconds because that was the only time you had a reason to touch him. 

But he’s everything you can’t desire and given that you almost crossed a line, you know you’re gonna have to slowly pull back. Not just with regards to your feelings but in everything, as you take a peek of your personal phone and see an email notification about an upcoming book launch from Rkive Publishing. You subscribed to their mailing list right after you met their director, and you’ve been sitting on his email address and the application letter you have yet to submit. 

Since that encounter, you’ve been occasionally looking at other job opportunities in different fields. You realize that nothing much excites you. There’s not much you think is worth slaving your way for in this corporate jungle, and that while you’re currently part of that machine, the only thing that got you going these past eight years was the debt you had to pay. 

You had your reasons to stay but being at this point when you’re ready to let that go, you’re realizing that there wasn’t much else about the job that got you truly excited. Sure, it was also the people, but they’re why you couldn’t leave. It wasn’t until the planning for the Arts Center that you felt you could truly be invested in a project and have impact on it, too; it just so happens that the man behind it is the reason why you have to step away. You know it’s the only way you could finally choose yourself and pursue what you want. At 31, you owe it to yourself to do that. 

Your thoughts are disrupted when the familiar building comes into view, and you exit the car and head to your floor, trailing Jungkook this time instead of walking by his side as what you’ve come to do. You can tell that he notices the distance but you don’t want to address it. Being terrible at any form of confrontation, you don’t really want to acknowledge anything that happened. You’ll deal with him if he brings it up, and for all the times that you screwed up, you wish to the heavens that Jungkook lets this one go. 

You head to your desk while he heads to his. You make him his coffee then ask him to sign some documents. You focus on his hands as he flips through the pages, preferring to look at those instead of his face. But it’s those fingers that pressed against you last night, and you shake your head at the memory, even if all you want is to feel them again.

You retrieve the papers, your heart stopping when he doesn’t let them go right away. Your eyes widen and you still don’t look at him, even as you anticipate him to say something.

“___.”

“Mr. Min asked to meet with you after lunch,” you cut him off again before he could say more.

“I know. That email was sent to you and me.”

“Yes, sir. I was just making sure.”

He lets go of the papers now and you bow before quickly heading out. You just know he had his eyebrows scrunched at you. He’s probably trying to make sense of how jittery you seem and though he may know why, you’re not sure if he knows why.

You get through the morning in one piece. You attend your meeting while Jungkook attends his own with his father. You grab a quick lunch with Do-hyun, whose narration of her love life takes up the whole half hour, then you return to your tasks once you finish.

Hyper-focused on the file you’re reviewing, Yoongi’s usually unenthusiastic greeting catches you off guard, causing your lips to miss the hot tea that you’re about to drink. You jerk, spilling all of it on you. You subsequently hit the saucer that’s on the edge of the table; it falls on the floor and breaks.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell, as you feel the drink pool on your skirt.

“Shit, is it burning?” Yoongi asks worriedly. 

He immediately rushes to your side and grabs some paper towels from the cabinet, placing them on your lap and on the floor.

“Don’t move so you don’t spread the broken pieces,” he instructs. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m just uncomfortable,” you groan, with your knees awkwardly touching each other and your thighs squeezed to keep the liquid from spreading. 

You’re at least in a black skirt but you know the stain will still be visible. That’s the least of your problems though, as Jungkook arrives from his meeting and heads to you with a folder, only to find Yoongi kneeling on the floor next to you. Jungkook’s eyes widen, seemingly scandalized at what this looks like, and they flit from you to his friend, whose calm face quickly turns into one of panic. 

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi explains, raising the soiled paper towels as evidence. He tells you to move back so he can place them over the shards while Jungkook looks on intently. “Are you good? Do you have spare clothes?” Yoongi asks you.

“Uh, ye-yeah,” you manage to say, hating how frozen you seem to be. With the tea having been absorbed, you grab your bag from your cabinet, the one you’ve started to keep and bring with you during trips in case you get stranded again, then throw the towels in the trash bin. “I’ll just go get changed.”

You scurry towards the washroom and leave the men alone, knowing that Yoongi will hold the fort for both of you. 

Back inside, Jungkook eyes Yoongi as he calls for maintenance to clean up the mess.

“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi says again. “She couldn’t move and I just cleaned up.”

“I heard you the first time,” Jungkook states.

“Just making sure, so your mind doesn’t think of whatever it thinks about,” Yoongi shrugs. “But is she okay? She seems a bit out of it.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook looks away. “Don’t you usually know those things?”

“Well, I assume that since you’ve gotten closer, you would know. Unless it’s about you… Were you mean to her again?”

Yoongi’s unusual scowl is one that Jungkook is secretly terrified of but he acts unaffected, merely shaking his head in response and to dismiss the assumption. He’ll admit that his friend’s statement is quite bittersweet, though. Yes, you and Jungkook have both gotten closer and there hasn’t been an incident in months where you could’ve had a reason to be down because of him. 

Unless last night counts, which is something he’s still wrapping his head around. 

He thinks back to that moment right by your desk. You were so close. And he was so close to doing something more than just holding onto your waist. He saw you eye his lips and he did the same but the realization of where you both were - in a semi-open space in the office - reminded him of his limits. Sure, it was after-hours and no one would have any reason to be on the floor at that time, but it still felt too exposed and he didn’t want either of you to be put in such a compromising position, even if every part of his body was aching to kiss you. 

He wouldn’t have known you were talking about him if it weren’t for the way you held him close and that unfamiliar look of yearning in your eyes. At that moment, he let himself hope that he’s who you wanted, even if he’s also the same man you believed wouldn’t cross his boundaries for you.

Even then, you had been so bold, so honest. He wished he was as brave and as capable to express his desires as you were. He never thought you’d feel anything for him - him, the one who made your life miserable for weeks, the one who treated you unfairly because you made him feel - and want - things he couldn’t understand and control. Your calm and warm nature made him think he wasn’t anyone special. He dismissed whatever part of him that thought otherwise because he couldn’t hope for something he couldn’t have.

But last night, the way you looked at him also made him feel like all he desired was within reach, like you were within his grasp. Your lips were everything he wanted all over him. Your soft breaths were what he wanted to take in. You were all he wanted to taste and touch and hear, and he’d been so, so close to crossing a line that he said he wouldn’t because he was afraid it would push you away and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He was overwhelmed but he was just as scared, believing that there’s no turning back if something had happened. He almost stepped over the line but pulled back just as quickly, and now it seems that that’s what’s keeping you at a distance. Because as you return to your desk, you merely bow at him then go through the folder of documents he’d given you.

“Yoongi and I will just meet for an hour,” he says. “Please be ready with the Arts Center opening event budget that I’ll go through with Hoseok later.”

“That’s noted, sir.”

Jungkook sighs in disappointment as you don’t spare him a glance. He just wants to see those eyes again, the ones that yearned for him last night, the ones that asked him - almost challenged him - to get closer. But he’d been the coward who let you go, and now he doesn’t know how to turn back from this.

He enters his room then turns around to face Yoongi.

“I feel so much and I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” his friend hums, feeling relieved that Jungkook can now acknowledge something he’d known for a while now. But Yoongi also knows that it’s not that simple, and while he knows of the possibility that you feel the same, reciprocated feelings don’t always mean happy endings. “Just don’t… just don’t hurt her,” he adds.

“Why do I feel like whatever I do, it’s what I’ll end up doing anyway?”

“She’ll know when you mean it and when you don’t. And you know what helps?”

“What?”

“Letting her know that hurting her isn’t what you want to do. You’ve got a lot to say, Jungkook, I know it,” Yoongi remarks. “Just be brave enough to say them.”

Yoongi’s words linger in Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the day, especially during the times that he peeks through the window to get a glimpse of you. You seem determined not to look his way, as you don’t even attempt to look at his direction all afternoon. There is a lot he’s got to say, he just doesn’t know what they are or how to say them. It’s always been that way when it comes to you - he feels so much, but he's unable to let you know.

Despite your avoidance all day, he feels your absence even more when you leave at 6PM, on the dot, without sparing him a glance. He could run after you and ask to talk. He wouldn’t know how to start that conversation though, but if it would bring you to finally look at him or say his name, then it would be enough. 

He just wants to know what last night meant for you. And if it means what he hopes it does, then maybe it isn’t about turning back but moving forward. He knows it will be complicated, but he wants to figure it out with you. He’ll choose the path where he gets to be around you, close to you. Always.

Jungkook pulls out the bottle of whiskey he keeps in his drawer to momentarily drown out these thoughts. For some, liquor gives them courage. For him, he drinks it because he’s afraid to be brave.

As he replays the way you looked at him last night, he wonders to himself what he’s more scared of - never having you close enough, or losing you completely. 

The three films you watch in the cinema that Saturday afternoon are a good distraction to all the thoughts in your head. You occasionally do this because watching other people’s lives play out in film gives you something to ponder about. Sometimes, you let it inspire you to live differently. Other times, it allows you a peek into a life much more exciting than the one you have. In some instances, it gives you a sense of relief that yours is uneventful, lacking in drama and intrigue.

At this moment, you’re not quite sure what you want out of it other than to forget. What exactly, you’re not sure. Is it the way you felt when Jungkook held you? Is it the way he seemed to want more and then nothing at all? Or is it the hope you had that you’d found someone you were willing to give a bit of yourself to, only for the glass to shatter because that’s not what you do - you don’t desire for things not meant for you; you don’t open yourself to heartbreak like that. 

Jungkook has always made you feel a lot of things. This time is no different. But this time it also means more. You could lose him completely or have something with him that could be beautiful. One would hurt right away and the other could hurt you down the road. You don’t know which one you’re willing to suffer through. 

Suddenly you wish you didn’t get to this point at all. You could’ve left when you had the chance. You could’ve let him not mean to you this much. 

You continue to wallow in the sadness. You eat dinner at a ramen place before going home and settling in bed with your best friends on video call. You tell them about the past two days and narrate your moments with Jungkook during the team building that you left out when you spoke to them about it. Looking at them through the screen, you see a mix of understanding and frustration on their faces. 

“Why are you avoiding him, hun?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and comforting.

“Because I’m so embarrassed,” you groan, burying your face on the pillow. “I was so… shameless. I don’t even know what got into me. He just looked at me and I… lost all sense. Who was I to assume that moment would end well? That he’d reciprocate that honesty?”

“And you think not talking about it will rid you of that embarrassment?” She wonders.

“No. But it’s at least better than facing it,” you frown. “I’m not good with words nor feelings. And I’m sure that neither is he. I’m just trying to be professional now because I obviously wasn’t.”

You leave out your fears about meeting his eyes and hearing what he has to say. Even if he returns whatever you feel, there’s so much burden tied to that and you don’t think you’re ready for it. You don’t think you’re ready for any of this.

“It doesn’t seem sustainable though,” Soomin points out. “You’re together all the time. You’ve created a routine and a dynamic that you’ve gotten so used to. It takes more effort to avoid the whole thing, don’t you think?”

“I guess but… we’re all busy with the Arts Center opening. And I plan on tending my resignation right after,” you explain. “There’s no time to talk about feelings. I’ll just let it die down. It’s stupid to have them in the first place.” 

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn towards her. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

“I just don’t think it’s stupid to be feeling what you’re feeling,” Soomin replies. “You spend so much time together. You’re bound to form some attachment and develop affection for him, regardless of how things started. I mean, through all the late-nights and early mornings and stresses and comfort in between, there’s something only two of you share and understand. That’s not stupid. That’s how connections are formed, hun.”

Attachment. Connection. They terrify you but they’re things that you desire as well. You don’t know how deep they are when it comes to Jungkook and you don’t know if they’re something he feels towards you, too.

“Maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that it isn’t that serious,” she adds. “Maybe it’s because you know that it is, and you don’t know if it’s worth pursuing, if it’s worth finding out if he returns it and if being with him is something that can happen.”

You look away, knowing the truth in her words. You turn to Jimin, who’s been unusually quiet all evening.

“What do you think Jimin?” You ask him. “I mean, it’s one thing to feel something and another to act on it and risk everything for it, right?”

“There’s always something you risk once you acknowledge what you feel for another person,” he says after pondering about it. “For me, acting on it just depends on two things. Is it good for me, and is it good for them? In your case, it’s something to really think about. You’re you and he’s him. And you know what I mean. You’ve been wanting to walk away from this company for years, ___. You wanna be something outside of it. How does being with your boss help with that?”

Jimin’s words remind you of something else you’ve been yearning for - that search for who you are outside of your work, outside of all the years you spent working for this family that have become a core part of who you are. For people like you who have to work extra hard for the things you have, it becomes natural for your job to define you as a means of survival. It doesn’t give you power nor influence; it just gives you a means to get to the next day and to give back to the one person who sacrificed everything for you. 

As the years went by, it became more difficult to pull away. This family trusts you, and your confidence has only ever increased as an employee of this company, but not as a professional. You’ve been wanting to learn who you are without the burdens you carry, without the need to constantly prove yourself to the people who helped make you, and Jungkook ties you to all this. Whether it’s pursuing him or working for him, you’re afraid you’ll never be brave enough to do things on your own.

You weren’t supposed to be this attached. You weren’t supposed to be this invested. You weren’t supposed to want to be wanted back. 

But Jungkook made you care. He made you feel. He made you be brave. And he’s now the one you have to pull away from.

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Maybe in a way, I needed this to happen. I needed this… moment to remind me that I have to leave and I can’t let him be another reason for me to stay, not when I feel what I feel, and not when I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

“What if he does, though?” Soomin asks. “And what if he asks you to stay?”

“Thinking about it now, I hope he doesn’t,” you say. “It’d be much easier for me if he just lets me go. I can finally walk away from all this. And I can get over what I feel.”

“Is that what you really want?” Soomin adds.

You nod in response. “At least I know I’ll be happy outside of working for the company. Who knows what having him in my life would bring me?”

The book cafe in Mapo district boasts of an elegant yet comfortable design. It has three levels that consist of a library and working spaces, but it’s on the first floor that you find yourself in, tucked in one of the corner tables at the back with your iced coffee and fruit tart. 

You listen in awe as the author reads excerpts from her newly released book, which she narrates with vigor and emotion. She answers questions about her purpose for writing this specific story, the inspiration for the characters, and interesting things like who she’d cast if it were to become a movie and what the playlist would sound like. It’s the first book launch you’ve ever been to, and despite not being an avid reader, you have a feeling that it won’t be your last. 

There’s something about the storytelling and the process of creating something that captivates you. There’s not much of that in your world. It’s all numbers and profits. It’s soulless, if you’re being honest. It doesn’t give you time to feel or live in the moment or actually bask in the work that you do. You’re there to support, to assist, and while that used to be something you were proud of, the past year has made you think that it’s truly time to move on from it. It’s made you desensitized to things like joy and hope and love, which prompts you to realize that those are what have been missing. Working on the Arts Center gave you a taste of it. You’ve come to the point where you want to know how those truly feel like, and the job has hindered you from fully finding it out.

All your emotions for Jungkook take a backseat the more you think about what your life could be, especially while you watch Namjoon gather what seems to be his team, as he congratulates them for a successful launch. They’re all in casual clothes, looking relaxed, relieved, and fulfilled as the event comes to a close and several people approach the author and ask her to sign their books. You can imagine the stress leading up to all this, but there’s satisfaction in putting together something this intimate and meaningful. 

“You made it,” the man with the soft smile says, the child-like innocence of his face, a contrast to his very masculine build. “I’m glad those newsletters and email invites work.”

“I think they’re the only ones I actually read,” you say, earning you a brighter smile from him. “But honestly though, it helps that a book cafe is something I wouldn’t mind being in on a Sunday morning.”

“Exactly!” Namjoon beams. “It’s easy to make it a part of your weekend. Whether it translates to immediate sales isn’t the whole point, although that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But as long as there’s foot traffic and increased interest, then it’s a success. Our launches have been gaining traction on social media. And the—shit, sorry. I’m rambling again,” he chuckles. “I doubt you came here with the intention of listening to me talk about what we do and stuff.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” you assure him. “I don’t actually go to things like this but I thought it might be a good way to have a feel of what it’s like working for your company without inconveniencing you. I mean, I haven’t applied yet but I just wanted to see if this is something I’d enjoy doing.”

“And?” He asks in anticipation.

“It kind of is,” you admit. “I don’t know. There’s just something so personal about it.”

“There really is,” Namjoon nods.

His face turns serious now, something that happens when he’s about to go on a speech about whatever it is he feels strongly about. He’s expressive and it’s quite captivating, which is refreshing in a colleague, you realize. 

Sitting across from you in your little nook in the cafe, he talks about the journey of this whole process, how he reached out to the author who turned out was trying to contact him as well. He was hoping to publish one of her manuscripts that was shared to him by a friend, but she offered this one instead, a very personal story that she trusted his company would do justice. 

“I sat the whole team down and told them what this means for her as an author and as a person, and what that in turn could mean to the readers,” he continues. “There’s so much responsibility but the return is worth more than you could imagine. Of course, it’s not always easy. We have a relatively small team for the amount of things that we have to do but it works. Communication is smooth, accountability is shared, and we build our trust and respect in each other that way. I think that makes it even more worth it in the end.”

“You’re really trying to lure me in, aren’t you?” You laugh.

“Pretty much,” he chuckles. “I just think our meetings are serendipitous. There were two people who were supposed to take on the role but they backed out last minute - on both cases, I see you the next day. The universe probably has plans.”

“It probably does,” you nod, slowly believing him. “The only reason why I haven’t applied yet is because this is all so new to me and I may not be what you’re looking for.”

“But it could be that we’re what you’re looking for,” he counters. “Even if the industry is new to you, if it’s a place you’re comfortable in and that you think will help you grow professionally, then you become what we need. It’s give and take, really. Your approach to the work impacts how you do it. Yes, it’s still a job but it also means a lot more.”

“You’re very good at this,” you say, feeling more at ease as you speak with him, a stranger who has no idea what you’re going through but is somehow saying the exact things you need to hear. “I just have a timeline I’m working around. My company has an important thing coming up in several weeks and I don’t want to leave before then. It’s also why I’ve been delaying applying.”

“Hey, if we see that we’re a good fit for each other, then we can work around your timeline,” he says. “To help with that, maybe we can chat more casually to relieve you of the pressure. I have some things to return to the office not far from here and you can tell me a bit about the work that you do. What do you think?”

It’s a suggestion you take up, so you both start walking a few streets down to a mid-rise building, a structure that sits amidst cozy cafes and small parks. 

The Rkive Publishing office is spacious. Instead of solo desks, there are large tables so there are more opportunities for collaborations, but there are small meeting rooms and private spaces as well. There are floor-to-ceiling windows, shelves that are lined with hundreds of books, and quirky art pieces that give the place a unique yet personal touch. It’s leagues different from what you’re used to, and as you appreciate the way the sunlight makes the whole place glow, you start to think that Namjoon may be right - this might just be what you’re looking for. 

You disclose who you work for then tell him your functions, narrate how a usual day looks like, and mention the types of people you usually engage with. But you share how you’ve felt lost in the chaos of everything and that you’ve been trying to find purpose in it but have been unable to. 

Namjoon purses his lips, attempting to hide a smile, but you call him out on it.

“I’m just trying not to get too excited,” he reasons, giving in and chuckling now. “We need organization, a sense of urgency, a kind of professionalism that someone of your caliber could bring. I don’t want to get my hopes up and yes, there’s a process, but I hope you give us a chance.”

It’s easy to think that this man has no idea what he’s saying, but he’s been talking about going with his gut feeling all morning - he’s said as much that following his heart and doing what feels right for him allowed him to turn the company into what it is right now. Maybe meeting the first time was just a coincidence, but the pull of the universe - of you to this environment and him to you - is just too strong that you can’t help but think that maybe this is the next step for you. For all the challenges you went through all these years, maybe you deserve something a little more smooth sailing this time. 

You don’t make any promises but you do assure him that you’ll send him an email. There are obviously other pressing matters that you have to deal with but this has been a good distraction, one that you allow to preoccupy you for the rest of the day. 

After saying goodbye, you walk around the neighborhood and spend the afternoon by the river where you wonder about the people surrounding you. 

What dilemmas are they facing? What heartbreaks are they trying to move on from? What new adventure are they preparing for? Or maybe, who are they trying to forget? Who’s waiting at home for them? Are they watching the sunset because they know it’s beautiful or because they’ve forgotten that it is? 

You let out a breath once the sun has dipped and the sky has turned a dark shade of blue. You feel a mix of awe at its beauty and disappointment because the day has come to an end. You once more have to face the person you’ve been trying not to think about all weekend.

Giving yourself a pep talk, you go to bed that night with the plan of continuing what you did last Friday, which is avoiding any moments and any chances of talking about what happened. If Jungkook brings it up, then you’ll just have to face it and ask him to forget about that night and then deal with the consequences after. But there’s no way that you’ll say anything first; you’ll ride this out for as long as you can.

Avoiding talking to Jungkook about non-work matters - which is really what you only intended to do - is much more difficult when you have to pretend you don’t care about him. 

That Monday morning, you stop yourself from asking how he’s doing after spotting the empty whiskey bottle and beer cans in his kitchen bin. While you give him the usual hangover remedy, you stop short of suggesting that he get some rest or buying him his favorite lunch dish. 

During the meeting that you accompany him to in the afternoon, you watch him helplessly as his father hounds him with questions about the other projects, adding even more pressure than what he’s currently under, and you look away when he tries to meet your eyes. You used to send him encouragement through your gentle nods and soft smiles but you’re scared you’ll fall into your feelings once again if you do them, knowing that any sign of him needing you is all it would take for you to give in and talk to him, maybe comfort him. 

You’ve become so weak for him, you realize that now. His detachment used to put you off and frustrate you, but knowing him the way you do, it’s what makes you want to be there for him; it’s what makes you want to assure him that you’re just there. 

But you aren’t, because you’re pushing him away. You’re making him go through his confusion and stress and exhaustion all on his own because you’re a coward, too. You’re scared of your own feelings. You’re scared of them being rejected and you’re scared of them being returned. You didn’t realize just how much you are because you never actually felt something this deeply for anyone, and that terrifies you even more. 

Watching him from your desk as he pores through documents on his laptop is hard, too. You’re done for the day but he’s said earlier that he’ll be staying late to finish a few things because there are many distractions at his place. You want to tell him they can wait, that he’ll need to rest and regain his energy for the week ahead, or that some fresh air could help clear his mind. 

But you don’t. Instead, you pack your things and head out, knowing that much as it’s your decision to force this distance between both of you, it’s still something you wish you didn’t have to do. You don’t know how long you can sustain it, but somehow you know that once he gives in, so will you, and so all this might as well just be useless or even worse for you. 

Mr. Ri picks up on the change the next morning, as he asks if you and Jungkook had an argument on the way to his penthouse. 

“There was no argument, ” you answer. “There’s just a lot on my mind and he’s a big part of that. I just… I just don't know how to deal with things, you know?”

“Things like what?” Mr. Ri asks. 

“Feelings,” you sigh. “I mean, you said they can’t be helped. And you’re right, I can’t. That’s my big problem right now.”

“Oh, ___,” he says, softly smiling through the rear view mirror. 

You can tell he’s trying to comfort you, something he’s told you before he’s unsure how to do. You brush him off, saying you’ll figure it out, and he assures you that you could talk to him and that maybe, you need to just let it out to someone who knows what you’re battling against. You express your appreciation then inhale deeply once you arrive at Jungkook’s building. 

The clanking sound of plates surprises you when you enter the penthouse. You walk cautiously towards the kitchen and find Jungkook already dressed in his work attire, placing the basket of toasted bread in the middle of the dining table where you spot the two plates with eggs in each. You wonder if you’re late, given that he’d gone ahead and made breakfast for both of you already. 

“You’re on time,” he says after seeing you check your watch. “I was just up early. I couldn’t really sleep. I think I have too much on my mind.”

“I still could have made this for you,” you say so softly, Jungkook almost misses it.

“I didn’t mind,” he answers, wanting to say more, like that he thought it would be nice to make something for you for a change, or that he hopes you could see the effort.

But he keeps them to himself, just like the many other things that he doesn’t feel ready to verbalize. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday night, and he thinks that the distance you’re creating has made his desire even stronger, but so has the fear. 

He spent the weekend downing alcohol and then boxing for hours to get rid of the hangover. The lemon ginger tea he made didn’t really work. He placed the bandage on his beat-up knuckles incorrectly, not like how perfectly you’d done it once. And the chicken noodle soup he ordered when he wasn’t feeling well last night didn’t taste as good as yours. 

His mornings aren’t the same without the briefest touch from you from fixing his tie, or from the casual conversations during breakfast or in the car. There’s not much of your voice or your laughter that he hears, and definitely none of your smile that always encouraged him, that always assured him. This continues for the rest of the day, as he barely feels your presence unless he asks for it. And even then, it almost feels like you’re not there at all. 

He feels so lost without you, unable to focus and function properly without your guidance and your care. He doesn’t know how or when he’s allowed himself to need you this much but it all feels so new yet familiar. All he wants is to be near you again but he admits that seeing you consistently pull away hurts him more than anything. 

It’s why that Wednesday, he settles for only minimal glances at you in the car, why he conducts his morning meeting in a cafe instead, why he has the blinds on in his room all afternoon, and why he stays to work late and informs you that he’ll go straight to the Arts Center the next day so he’ll just meet you in the office.

He does all those so he’s forced to be around you less, so he doesn’t look up from his desk to find out that you don’t look his way anymore, so that it’s less difficult when you don’t do your usual routine with him. He at least won’t feel as bad when you don’t ask how he’s feeling if you don’t see him look terrible in the morning after not being able to sleep, or when you don’t fix his necktie for the fifth time this past week if he’s not around you in the first place. 

You’ve been going out of your way to avoid him and if he had a bit more courage, he’d probably be able to ask what Thursday night was about and if you’d really wanted to kiss him like he did. 

But he’s afraid of two things - that you’d ask him to forget all of it, or that you’d both have to figure out how to move forward if the feelings are indeed mutual. There are so many things that could go wrong but just as many that could go right - he’s scared to hurt you either way. And like he’s always said, he doesn’t know how to handle all of this; he doesn’t know how to talk about what he feels.

Thursday morning comes and while you’re relieved that you don’t have to tiptoe around Jungkook again in his own apartment and feel suffocated by the tension, you won’t lie and say that you deeply felt his absence. You also won’t deny that seeing him walk towards his office without sparing you a glance hurt you a little. You know him enough that he’s probably giving you the space that you’ve insisted on, but still, a part of you wonders if he’s just accepted it, too. 

And when you hand him his notes for his late afternoon meeting then when he leaves for the CEO’s office without a look of acknowledgment, you worry that he’s become impatient, that he’ll keep pulling away for as long as you are, and that you’ll be so far apart that you’ll start to wonder if you’d come close to him at all. 

But you did this, you remind yourself. You’d been the one to get close, to expect, and then to detach because you were so afraid of what would happen next, and what that would mean for you. He’s probably the last thread you’re holding onto, connecting you to this world that you’ve been planning on leaving for so long. Maybe you’re also scared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and the last thing you want is for him to be the reason why you can’t let go, and then resent him for it. 

You sigh in your seat as the various thoughts plague your mind. You decide to go to the pantry for a cup of tea, knowing you have some time before Jungkook’s meeting with his father is scheduled to end. 

The support team’s office is unnervingly quiet at 7PM with only Mr. Ri around, shaking his leg against the chair while browsing on his desktop. He greets you when you enter and then joins you to make his cup of coffee - his fourth for the day, he says - before you both head out the pantry and sit by the meeting table. 

There aren’t any words said as you both blow away the steam from your respective hot drinks, merely letting the tranquility of the evening envelop the two of you. A few minutes pass and Mr. Ri finally looks up and asks why you’re still here, to which you reply that you wanted to be around when Jungkook’s meeting finishes in case he needs you to do something.

“There’s no need to drop me home,” you tell him. “I can manage on my own.”

“You know Jungkook won’t like that,” Mr. Ri responds. “He has strict instructions to drive for you whenever you stay out late. I can’t and won’t disobey those orders.”

You know this, which is why you sit in silence with your hands on your lap as if you’re being scolded, and you nod. 

“Okay,” you say softly.  

“He’s worried, you know?” Mr. Ri says after a while. “He’s been asking me how you’re doing, as if you’re not at the point in your relationship where he can directly talk to you. But I’ve actually been worried about him this past week. He stays up late to work, then goes home to work out. He’s not himself lately, always out of it and just… sad.”

“Did he… did he say anything else? About us, specifically?”

“He didn’t tell me if anything happened but I’m guessing something did, something serious enough that you’d avoid him for days and personal enough that he won’t confront you about it.”

Your face falls, guilt painting it, something Mr. Ri picks up.

“It’s about your feelings, isn’t it?” He asks. “You like him and you can no longer deny it.”

You nod in confirmation, unable to verbalize the words that your heart has been screaming for weeks. 

“Is it so hard to admit? Is it so hard to talk about?” The older man asks. “I mean, he doesn’t tell me anything but I’ve known that man his whole life, ___. I’ll bet a lot and say that he feels the same way about you. Why are you both putting all your effort into avoiding each other instead of talking it out?”

“Because you know us, Mr. Ri. We’re the worst at these things,” you shake your head, choosing to disregard his statement that Jungkook may be reciprocating the feelings, knowing you’re not ready to think about it. “And you know this, too. It’s not just about what I feel. It’s about who he is and who I am and what those imply. It’s this complicated situation that I wouldn’t even be in if I just… if I was just strong enough to leave the first time. Or the second time.”

“Hey, you know it wasn’t about that,” he says. “You were always strong. You held on even when things were difficult—”

“Yeah, I just held on and now I’m here, caught in between liking my boss and wanting to stay away from him, from his family,” you groan in frustration. 

But you utter the thoughts that you only rarely entertain, only because they’re what held you back all those years ago.

“Am I being selfish, for wanting to leave after everything?” You ask. “They’ve been so good to me. And now that I crossed the line and fell for their son, I want to let everything go.”

“Is that really why you want to resign? Because you like Jungkook?”

“No… it isn’t just about that,” you sigh. “Or it is. A big part of it, but also not. I… you know I’ve been thinking about this since the whole thing with Mrs. Byun happened, and that was six years ago. But then CEO Jeon asked me to help Hoseok and I stayed. And it was even more important for him that I be there for Jungkook. And I am but now what? How can I continue knowing that I like him? And how can I find myself and learn who I am outside of this when I’m here, when this is all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever given myself to? They’ll always be good to me. I feel selfish by staying, but I also feel that way if I leave.”

“None of that makes you selfish, ___. You always had a reason to leave and you could have, but there was also always gonna be a reason for you to stay,” he says. “But they were their reasons, not yours. Whether you stay despite what you feel for Jungkook or leave to find yourself and seek the happiness you deserve, you’re not being selfish.”

You look at the man whom you’ve known for years and he sees in your eyes a woman who’s just asking for any kind of comfort, of any kind of assurance because no else is around to do that.

“We do what we can at every moment, and we can live with our choices if we know they’re the best one we can make at that time,” he continues. “Whatever it is you decide to do, I hope you do it for you. You’re the only person you have to look out for.”

Right outside the door, Jungkook remains unmoving as he processes everything he’d heard, while you continue to talk inside, completely oblivious to how you’ve rendered him paralyzed. 

Jungkook’s meeting with his father ended much sooner than he expected. They merely discussed some happenings with the Board and the lunch that they’ll be hosting on Saturday to welcome some of their family’s long-time friends who are flying in from Europe. 

He headed to the support office immediately to tell Mr. Ri that he plans to go home soon but hadn’t known you were there as well. But then again, you and their trusted aide - who’s been his father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and personal assistant for decades - spend a lot of time together, so it didn’t feel off to Jungkook that you’d both be talking. He’s asked the older man to look out for you, too, especially with regards to things that he feels isn’t really his place. 

Jungkook didn’t hear much at first, initially deciding to just walk back to his office and call, but once he heard Mr. Ri asking you about resigning, he stopped in his tracks. He felt foolish to be listening in on a conversation he’s not a part of, especially since it’s also because of him.

It should’ve delighted him to hear you say that you like him. Jungkook could’ve only dreamt up that reality and it still feels surreal. You didn’t have a reason to lie and the fact that he isn’t the only one seemingly overwhelmed by his own feelings should be a good thing. 

But that also seems to be your reason for wanting to leave, and the thought breaks his heart in ways he can’t explain. You’ve apparently been planning on leaving for years but never got around to do so. If you stayed when his father asked you to, would you do the same if he asked? And he believes that up until last week, your relationship had become the most comfortable it’s ever been. You seem happy here, but why did it also seem like you just wanted to get away? 

The thoughts make his head hurt, and while a part of him wishes he hadn’t heard anything, he at least knows you plan on leaving. And that’s something he absolutely cannot bear.

The sounds of the chairs being fixed disrupt his thoughts. When he hears Mr. Ri suggest that you should start packing up, Jungkook quietly walks back to his office and nonchalantly calls the older man to inform him that he plans on staying up late and that he should drop you home already. If Mr. Ri notices the odd tone of his voice, he doesn’t say anything. He merely expresses his confirmation and not long after, Jungkook hears some shuffling outside his closed door.

“Is there anything you need from me before I leave, Mr. Jeon?” You call out, the walls in between both of you feeling higher and thicker than ever before.

He knows that you know that he no longer asks you to do anything at this hour, and he comforts himself by thinking that it’s your way of letting him know that you’re still there. But the thought is short-lived, as he once again plays the conversation he’d overheard in his mind.

“There’s none,” he says pointedly. “You may leave.”

It takes a while but he eventually hears you walk out. Jungkook feels himself breathe for the first time in the last 15 minutes, before he feels suffocated once again. 

Maybe pulling away last week when he’d been so close gave you the idea that he didn’t want you at all, and maybe that had affected you more than he expected. Maybe him, creating more distance that you’d initiated, made you think that that’s what he wanted after all that. Perhaps his being a coward in facing his own feelings had pushed you away, too, and if you’re scared of what you feel for him, maybe letting you know that he feels the same way is what will make you stay. He could be the happiness you’re searching for, Jungkook convinces himself. He could be what you want and need.

And he already knows that you’re all that for him. Whatever rules he created for himself and the limits he imposed are all pointless if he doesn’t have you around at the end of it. If his life after all this doesn’t have you in it, there’s no happiness for him. A new job for you could take you anywhere, maybe far away from where he is; it could lead you to someone, someone who isn’t him.

He hates that an overheard conversation about you resigning is what will take for him to finally be honest about what he feels for you. And that potentially losing you by his side is the push he needs to let you know that he wants you, that he wants everything with you, and that he hopes you want the same. 

It’s 9:30 PM by the time he enters the car, his head hazy from the two glasses of whiskey he had. Mr. Ri calls him out on another night of him drinking in the office and orders him to get straight to bed like he’d done a few times before when Jungkook had been too stressed and too stubborn to rest. He merely nods though but he follows through, skipping dinner then mindlessly taking a shower before falling asleep in bed after finishing a bottle of beer.

The ringing of the alarm causes Jungkook to grunt and turn off his phone for the peace and quiet that he needs, given the throbbing of his head. But in the silence, he hears the soft knocks on his door, so consistent that he decides to just open it and ask the person on the other side to stop.

But of course, it’s you, and the way you quickly turn your head away reminds him that he’s got nothing but his sweatpants on and he’s too sleepy for anything else to register.

“It’s 7AM, Mr. Jeon. You have an executive meeting at 8,” you tell him, voice so soft and so far away. 

“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing his temples to massage the pain away. “I’ll just take a shower. Don’t make breakfast anymore. We leave in 20 minutes.”

“Noted, sir,” you say, then walk back towards the kitchen.

It’s 15 minutes later when his bedroom door opens and he nervously walks over to you. Unable to still remove the image of his half-naked form in your mind, you focus your gaze elsewhere, but he forces it on him when he asks you to fix his necktie, the first time he’d ever done so.

“I was rushing,” he explains. 

You nod and head to him, hating how your hands slightly shake at feeling so close to him again. You can feel his breath as you watch the rise and fall of his chest. He probably feels as anxious as you, perhaps no longer used to this routine after you stopped it days ago. But you manage without sparing him a glance, keeping your distance and your eyes focused on anything else but him from the walk down to the car and throughout the ride to work. 

It’s difficult for you to look at him, not only because you’re ashamed but because you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Maybe his eyes will tell of his acceptance of this new dynamic. Maybe they’ll reflect anger and frustration at how you’ve disrupted his routine. Or maybe they’ll show sadness - which is what you’re most terrified of - because that’s your weakness. Any time he looks like he needs comfort or he needs you, you know you’d give in, you know you’d want to be there even if you’ve spent the past week staying as far away as possible. 

You know you don’t have much time left here. The Arts Center opens over a month from now and you’ve decided to tender your resignation soon after. You know you should be savoring whatever moments you have with him and perhaps that’s what saddens you the most because you don’t know what will come after. 

Your happiness isn’t here, and staying to find out if it’s with him isn’t worth it, not when there’s baggage you carry; not when your own past and insecurities weigh you down.

Arriving in the office, you rush to your desk then walk to his room to give him the notes he needs for the meeting. You turn towards him slowly when he calls you, your name in his voice suddenly sounding foreign.

“Can you prepare me lemon ginger tea? Please?” 

His voice is soft, as if he feels burdensome for making such a request. You want to give in so badly and ask how he’s feeling. But you stop yourself. It’s not the place nor time.

You accompany his tea with pastries, your own request for him to have breakfast, and you get your own, in response to him instructing you to do so. You see from your periphery that he’s trying to catch your attention as the meeting starts, but with this, you hold back. You don’t want to see what you now know would be sadness in his eyes.

Jungkook has entered the deepest nook of your heart, you realize. You don’t know how you let him get there, and you don’t know how to push him out. 

“Another night of drinking, huh?” Hoseok’s unusually somber voice disrupts Jungkook’s thoughts as he zones out during lunch. “The Arts Center getting you that stressed and anxious?”

Jungkook looks at his cousin questioningly.

“I know how you look when you’re tired and this isn’t it,” Hoseok responds. “You’re hungover.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook huffs, not wanting to get into this with a man who would know when he’s lying.

“You should be, Kook. There’s a lot going on these next few weeks and we need you at your best. Your team has worked so hard for the Arts Center,” Hoseok reminds him. “So trust them. And don’t let them down.”

As always, his words hit Jungkook where they should. Whatever’s going on in his personal life - even if it involves you, his assistant - he has to be professional first, and that means making sure that everything is ready for the launch in six weeks. There’s a lot he has to meet and prepare for, and he doesn’t know how you’re able to do it. You may be distancing yourself from him but you’re still able to focus and carry out your tasks accordingly. You’ll be fine without him, he thinks. But if you’ll go on thinking that he doesn’t feel the same way about you, he knows he’ll regret it. He knows he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t ask you to stay. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jungkook assures his cousin. “I’ve been out of it but I’ll get my shit together.”

“Good. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot riding on this. But ___ is there to help. I’m here, too. You’ve got people who believe in you, okay?” Hoseok smiles, a slice of comfort that Jungkook didn’t know he needed. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Jungkook nods and heads back to his office after a full morning has passed, tricking himself into thinking that things will indeed be okay. He just needs to find the courage to face you, finally talk to you, ask you about that night, and tell you what he feels.

But even getting you alone proves to be difficult, as you have your own lunch plans that he didn’t want to interfere with, and your own deadlines that he set that he knows you’ll make sure to meet.

Jungkook gets caught up in the afternoon in another meeting with some of the Board members who came to visit. Biting his lip in frustration, he manages to not lose his mind as he sits through it, merely hoping to the heavens that you haven’t left yet despite the late hour. 

He speed walks down the hallway once he gets to his floor and almost panics when he sees your work space empty. But he spots your unfinished cup of coffee and he knows you won’t leave without cleaning up. He briefly sighs in relief when he hears shuffling from inside his room, walking closer to find you standing by his desk, with your back facing the door. You place a folder on his tray for signatures and a bound manual for review, then turn around and jerk in surprise when you see him standing there.

“I didn’t know your meeting had ended, sir,” you say, the formality grating his ears. All he wants is to hear you speak to him casually again, for you to call him by his name once more.

“It just did,” he hums. “I didn’t know if you were still here. I wanted to see you before you could leave.”

His words catch you off-guard but you try to look unaffected. 

“Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?” You ask, knowing that he’s past giving you work at this hour on a Friday, but you’re too nervous to think of what else he needs you for.

“No. I…” he stutters. “You, uh, you’ve been avoiding me,” he manages to say, his eyes pleading for you to look at him. 

But still, you don’t.

“I’m with you everyday, Mr. Jeon,” you insist, your tone cold. “I can’t possibly be avoiding you.”

“You haven’t looked at me all week.”

As if in reflex, you glance at him, then shift your eyes on the couch to your left.

“That doesn’t count,” he says, his voice oozing in desperation for you to just spare him some time, something you’ve never heard before.

So you give in, as you slowly meet his eyes, and you’re reminded why you didn’t want to do it in the first place. They’re so sullen. Tired, it seems, but just lacking in light. They were always so expressive, even when they’re angry, and even more when they’re sad. 

“I just…” you start, knowing that with all that’s happened and with all the stress and pressure he has to endure, you can’t be another one in his list to have to try to figure out. You at least owe it to him to be honest.

You look at the door, suddenly conscious of who might wander in your area, and Jungkook takes your cue, closing it once you nod. 

“So, why have you been avoiding me?” He asks again, his voice gaining a bit of life now that you’ve given him a chance to talk.

“I was just ashamed,” you admit, looking away as the scene from last week plays in your mind again. “I said things I shouldn’t have and they made you uncomfortable and—”

“How do you know that?” He interjects.

“Because you pulled away!” You say too loudly, lowering your head in embarrassment at the clear frustration you’re expressing. “I thought you wanted to… uh…”

“Kiss you,” he finishes, earning him the slightest of nods from you. 

“But you didn’t and I just felt so embarrassed,” you say, your lips quivering now at how much you’re saying, at how much you’re baring yourself to him, unsure if he’ll do the same. “That was completely out of line.”

“You weren’t wrong though,” he almost whispers as he slowly walks towards you. “About what I wanted to do. You seemed to want that, too, but we were out there and I… I was scared that if I’d done anything you weren’t ready for, then I’d push you away. I still did anyway. Because you’ve spent the entire week avoiding me, talking to me formally, not fixing my tie…”

You stop the giggle that you almost let out, but you can’t help your tiny smile as he whines about what you’ve been purposely doing. 

“I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you after that,” you explain, knowing there’s so much more to say but that you’ll start with this. “But you avoided me, too,” you suddenly pout. 

“What did you expect me to do?” He exclaims. “You did it first! You know I’m not good with these things.”

“Neither am I.”

Jungkook controls himself from kissing the frown off your face and instead, he walks closer. He gets to appreciate you now as he shamelessly eyes your form, the pastel-colored long sleeved blouse tucked inside your white skirt making his heart race. 

He spots your shy smile as you try to turn away, and he steps closer, wanting to see more. 

“You still aren’t gonna look at me?” He asks, the soft desperation in his voice prompting you to be bold again.

“I can’t. I might lose my mind,” you admit, groaning right after at your own honesty. 

“I’d quite like that,” he hums. “I… I was actually losing my mind all week. It didn’t feel right to have you feel so far away. I wanted to fix things but I didn’t know how.”

“That makes both of us,” you sigh, allowing yourself to finally gaze at him in his black suit, the classic look taking your breath away every time. “But I guess it’s the same with me. I didn’t know how badly I wanted you close until you weren’t anymore.”

You hesitatingly reach out your hand, an attempt to let him know that close is what you want him to be, but also to see for yourself if this is real, if he really is just breaths away from you, and if he could be even closer.

“I’m not pulling away this time,” he assures you, his boyish smile sending your mind in a frenzy.

Your fingers graze his chest, the way it quickly rises and falls telling you that his heart is probably racing as fast as yours. You fiddle with the neck of his tie before pulling it to bring him closer. He follows your lead, stepping forward and meeting your eyes, seeming like he doesn’t want his off of you. 

“So uh, are you losing your mind now?” He whispers teasingly. 

The way he utters the words with such yearning is a contrast to the shy look on his face. It’s a side of him you’re not ready for, but it’s one you’re thoroughly enjoying. It’s also pushing you to be even more shameless, as you nod and take his hand this time, placing it on your waist so you could feel his touch again. He’s gentle, trailing his fingers up and down your sides. 

“I am,” you manage to say, and you wish he could tell by the way you’re panting that his effect on you is way beyond your control now, and that it’s something you want to embrace. You mirror his smile, soft and warm yet full of desire.

He makes his move, placing his hand on your cheek as he eliminates whatever distance is left. And he stands there, just one breath away. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about that night, wishing I’d done things differently,” he heaves, his eyes flitting to your lips constantly, “wishing I had been brave enough to do what I’ve been wanting to do for so long.”

You lick your lips in tandem with his, and once you feel him thumb your cheek, it’s all over for you. With a whisper of his name, you hold your breath, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours. 

He kisses you deeply, expressing just how much he’s been wanting to do this. You smile as you return his desire, suddenly feeling like you’re floating, as if he’s some dream that you’re able to reach, like he’s that beautiful thing that’s tangible, that you can touch, that you can taste.

You moan once his tongue gains entrance, entangling with yours and dominating you immediately until he’s all you can breathe in. He cups your face, directing it where he wants, while his one hand trails down your back to knead your ass, as if to keep himself steady as he loses himself in you. Your breathing quickens even more as the pleasure rises, and with your fingers palming his chest and gripping his collar, he pushes you against his table. 

He cages you and keeps you in place while he devours your lips, and you feel him all over you just as you wanted. You’re hypnotized by his scent, by his warm breath, and by the large hands that now grip your waist and lift you to sit on the edge of his desk. 

Your mind is hazy, high on the drug that is his kiss, lust-filled and passionate and relentless. You yearn for him even more the longer you taste him, feel him, and there’s no part of you that wants this to end. Your moans push him to kiss you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess and with a mind that's truly unable to think a single thought outside of this trance-like feeling. His arms now wrap around you, and his hands, seemingly desperate to touch every part of you that he can, trail up and down your back, as if to caress you, as if to say that he won’t stop, that he won’t let you go.

Finally needing air, he removes his lips from yours only to travel to the most sensitive parts of you - on the shell of your ear that his tongue grazes repeatedly, and on your neck that he licks and sucks vigorously. You feel the chills all over your body, and you grind against him to try to satiate that growing need of yours, as you start to feel the dampness in your underwear. His hardening length makes you want everything he can give you, rules and boundaries be damned. 

This isn’t like you but you’ve never felt this much pleasure and desire in all your life. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the ecstasy that kissing and feeling him would give. You feel his desperation and desire for you, as he grunts and moans your name, aching to feel more, to do more. You want to live in this moment, and then live it everyday, just take him in and take everything and give him everything. 

But you should’ve known that some things are too good to be true. And much as you hope and imagine for things to turn out a certain way in belief that you deserve good things in this world, they don’t. Those don’t happen to people like you. There’s always something underneath it all, as the fantasy shatters like a glass ceiling breaking at his words.

“Stay, ___. Don’t leave,” he hums against you, the tip of his nose gliding against your neck as he takes in your scent. “Please don’t resign. I can’t… I—”

You feel frozen as you process what he’s said. “Wha-what?” You manage to ask, your mind slowly waking up now. 

His lips take a pause at devouring your skin and he faces you, his chest heaving and his eyes glassy and pleading as he repeats his words.

“Don’t leave, ___. Don’t resign. Stay with me. I need you next to me.” 

“Where is this coming from?” You demand, your heart racing now for a different reason, your anxiety building at how he could’ve known of your plans. You pull away to get a better look at him, with guilt now painting his eyes.

“I… I overheard you and Mr. Ri talking last night,” he admits shamefully. “I didn’t mean to. I was going to just walk away but you talked about leaving and what you feel about me and I just… I froze. I don’t want you to go anywhere, ___. I need you here.”

The silence drags on as you let his words settle, words you thought you wanted to hear. But not like this, you realize. This isn’t how you imagined he’d tell you he wants to be with you. 

He attempts to cup your cheek again but you pull yourself back, the rejection breaking him this time.

“You knew I wanted to kiss you last week,” you start, your voice shaking as the pieces fit together. “You knew yet you pulled away. You let a whole week pass with this distance, with no attempt from you to talk to me about it, or to even tell me what you feel but then you learn last night, after listening to a conversation you had no part in, that I like you. And tonight, you kiss me because suddenly you need me? Because you want me to stay next to you?”

“I—” Jungkook starts, unable to say anything as you put it the way you do. 

He’s wanted you for so long and always had reasons to keep his distance. He tried to gain the courage to talk to you this week, even as you avoided him, but he didn’t. There was just so much fear, so much worry about what he should do, about you asking him to forget about it, about possibly pushing you away even more. He didn’t intend for things to happen this way but for you to think that he’s only doing this in an attempt to keep you from resigning is all kinds of wrong, even if in hindsight, that’s exactly what it looks like. He could’ve said something earlier, he could’ve told you what he felt, and he would’ve been brave enough if he really wanted to. 

“You knew how I felt and you kissed me so I’d stay,” you repeat. “You hate change and me leaving will change everything for you and this… this is how you make sure I don’t.”

Stepping down from the desk, you realize how much you’d lost yourself in him, with your skirt bunched up and your blouse all creased. You fix yourself, suddenly ashamed, and suddenly unsure where you stand. It took so much of you to admit what you felt for him and now it seems that he hadn’t been into you the way that you thought. 

You want him with you, but he wants you here, that’s the difference. 

“I… want you,” Jungkook says, the words suddenly hard for him to say, as he gets choked up at the distance you’re creating. “I guess I always have. I just couldn’t do anything because I had to be professional and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross. But I couldn’t help it. Those don’t matter to me anymore. Only you do.” 

His pleading eyes ask you to believe him, to understand him this time. But your silence and the way you look at him in disappointment tell him it’s not something you’re able to do. 

“I never thought you’d feel the same way,” he continues. “And now I know that you do and that just means we can figure it out, right? Staying means we get to be together everyday. We… we get to have this everyday. Don’t you… don’t you want that?”

This is when you realize that much as you want to believe in his sincerity, it’s hard when he thinks of you as a necessity. You make his life easier. You’re his assistant, after all. And that makes you unsure if he only wants you because he needs you, or if they’re just the same thing to him. 

He didn’t even ask you why you wanted to leave. Maybe that should tell you enough.

“___, please. I just want to be with you.”

It’s also at this moment when you realize just how much you’ve fallen for him. You’d feared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and that means putting another person’s needs ahead of yours again, just like what you’ve done all these years. Staying would mean that you’d be unable to find yourself outside of all this, and you’ve given up too much not to choose your own happiness this time, even if it means saying goodbye to the person who also makes you happy.

Finding what little strength you have in you, you turn to him. “I don’t want to stay, Jungkook,” you say, your heart breaking as you utter the words, even more when you ask him to forget about everything that happened tonight. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this with you. Not like this. I’m so sorry.”

With your smashed heart in your hands, you do the hard thing and walk out the door, leaving in your wake a man whose broken pieces that you’ve put together all shattered once again. 

Walking down the block to get to the bus stop feels like a marathon, as the street feels so long with the heavy burden you’re carrying weighing you down too much. But you manage to get there, only to decide that you’d much rather spend the ride home on your own. You turn to a street to hail a cab then realize once you get in one that it was the spot where Jungkook had seen you, drenched under the rain with a sprained ankle. 

He healed parts of you that night, with his quiet assurance that you didn’t have to go through your struggles on your own. You’d hold on to that thought months later, though you’re unsure about now - much as things hurt at this moment, all you want is to be alone.

You get off two stops early and mindlessly walk towards the convenience store, thinking that some snacks for dinner would do. You don’t really feel like eating but your body’s needs are greater than your own desire to eat. Walking down the aisles, you decide you’re only good for some cup noodles tonight. You don’t even deserve boiled eggs that you suddenly craved, nor honey chips, and you definitely don’t deserve dessert after what you allowed to happen earlier. 

You stop your movements once you realize you’re sitting on the same spot where you and Jungkook had eaten when he drove you home that night he took you to the park. It had been a terrible evening after that incident with your ex, but Jungkook was the protective one who helped shoulder all the anger that you were too exhausted to feel. He was a reliable and comforting presence, familiar yet new with his warmth. During the occasional moments in the weekend after when your mind would go to that night, you’d think of Jungkook and how he made you feel safe.

It feels too much, so you take your noodles and finish them on the bench outside. You walk home after, letting the crisp evening air envelop you as your mind replays what happened. 

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to feel someone the way you wanted to feel him, but you suppose that’s why it hurts as much as it does. You wanted him to want you as much as you did, and you were perhaps foolish to think he’d have the same reasons as you. Maybe you were really just stupid for feeling anything in the first place, knowing your place in his world. You’re everything convenient and easy and familiar and despite the week of walking on eggshells around him, you gave in so quickly. He knew what to do when it came to you. 

And maybe that’s on you. You allowed yourself to feel so much for a man whose life is so intertwined with yours that it’s hard to know what’s real. Yet you know that despite all that, your desire for him is still too strong. It’s why you had to leave right away. 

Another moment of him pleading for you to not resign and you might’ve given in again. Another second of hearing him ask you to be with him and you would’ve believed him - that there was sincerity in all that, that he’d be with you regardless if you stayed in the company or not. Now you’re left with the thought that the convenience was what he wanted, that as he crossed the line, it was all or nothing for him. And that you’d be the weak one, willing to give up what else you could be outside of all this just for him. 

Perhaps you’re also asking for too much. He’s used to a life without much consequences to his actions. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, especially what you had to endure and give up to be here and what you want out of life now that you’re old enough to take control of it. Maybe for him, asking you to stay was that declaration and proof of his feelings; doing so took so much out of him already that thinking of what life would be like without being with you everyday was too hard of a reality to accept or work around. 

You’re too out of it that you don’t realize that you’ve been standing outside your door. You’re thankful for the weekend at least. You’ll spend half of it in bed, and the other half preparing yourself for how you’ll face him again, and how you’ll finally say goodbye. 

You enter and sigh at the warmth inside. Dropping your bag on the floor, you stand by your tiny dining table and take a bite off the apple you find in your fridge. You gaze at your shelf, the one filled with photos of your family and friends and a few more of different sceneries that you took using the disposable camera that Jungkook had gifted you for your birthday. It’s another reminder of how much a part of your life he’s become, how, of all the people in the world, he’d been the one to show you that capturing moments is a gift you shouldn’t take for granted. 

You often wondered what moments he liked to capture. He doesn’t have photos in his penthouse other than those of structures and buildings that are artistically taken. There are framed old blueprints and historical pieces but nothing of him and the people in his life. 

Maybe he doesn’t have good enough memories he wants to keep. For a short moment, you wished that the times he shared with you are ones he’d like to hold onto. But maybe the idea would hurt more - you’ll just be a memory like he would be to you. 

You always wanted to keep only good ones of him, but the sight of him rooted in his spot and in shock as you turned him down is far from something you want to remember. He’s something you didn’t know you wanted, but he stands between you and the life you’ve always wished for yourself - one where you get to decide, to be free, to be happy. 

He’ll let you go and forget all this, you think to yourself. You’ll be the one who walked away. And he’ll be the one who didn’t run after you.

Jungkook is stunned as he watches your retreating form. The sounds of your heels against the marble floor disappear as he remains unmoving from his spot in his room where he’d kissed you just moments earlier. You felt and tasted just like he imagined, and the moment his lips touched yours, he knew he’d want to keep kissing you over and over again. 

It was the first time in a long time that he allowed himself to be honest about how he felt, giddy emotions included. It felt freeing to be able to admit all of that to you after all these months of denying it and walking around eggshells when it came to you. He’d been sure, after last night, that you felt the same way, even more when he felt how your body reacted and how your heart raced, aching for him as much as his heart was yearning for you. 

You sounded hypnotizing, too. The way you’d moaned his name ignited something in him that none of the women he’d slept with had ever done before, and he knows it’s because he’d never felt anything genuine for them. They were good for the moment but he knew, especially the instance that he felt you close, that he wanted you for more than that. He wanted the soft touches and the gentle whispers, the longing looks and the intertwined hands. He wanted more than he thought he would, but during his most vulnerable state, he uttered the words he’d been dying to say since last night when he learned of your plans.

He asked you to stay. He told you he needs you, that he wants to be with you.

They sounded like pleas and maybe that’s what they were. From the deepest and coldest nooks of his heart, he was pleading for you to not leave. He’d finally admitted what he’d been so scared to accept, but all his words did were hurt you. 

You insisted that all he cared about was the convenience of being together everyday, that you staying meant he’d get to keep all that was familiar. And he doesn’t know what would be taken away from you if you did. 

You wanted him, too, didn’t you? Wasn’t that enough? And wasn’t being with him all that mattered? 

Sure, there’d be complications, but those are things he knows you’d both be able to face, they’re things you can navigate around and figure out together because this isn't just a one-time, spur-of-the-moment type of thing. He wants all of you, everything with you, whatever it takes. 

He hadn’t realized it until that second he held you in his arms. And then again when you pulled away, looked at him with glassy eyes, and told him you couldn’t stay. 

He’d been too hurt to run after you. He didn’t know what to say then. How would he, when you’re the one who couldn’t commit to what you felt by staying around? He felt that betrayal, of that feeling of inadequacy, of his feelings for you not being enough. He bared his emotions to you after being so scared of doing so, and then you crushed his heart just like that, with his broken pieces that you’d just put together, scattered on the floor. 

This isn’t like him. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to feel so much for another person, to care for them, to want them in a way that scares him. But you showed him a life where it was possible to open himself up again, to find out what happiness could feel like this time, and in that same breath, you took it all away.

He’s not sure where to go from here. But he decides he’ll think about that tomorrow. Tonight, he just wants to forget. Tonight, he just wants to wallow in his sadness, erase the memory of your touch and the feel of your mouth against his, and let it all go. 

Jungkook instructs Mr. Ri to go home. He’ll drive himself, he insists. There’s just no one right now he wants to be around. 

He drinks a glass of whiskey for the road and manages to get home in one piece. He settles on the couch as he finishes another half bottle, then chugs down a few cans of beer after. The image of you gets blurry. His mouth numbs and he starts forgetting your taste on his lips, too. 

His head falls on the pillow and his hand mindlessly reaches out. There’s no heartbeat that he feels; he’s forgotten how fast yours was already. The sound of your laughter and then of your moans is replaced with a buzzing in his ear as his mind starts to fall away. 

The warmth of your body is gone but somehow he feels hot, so hot but he can’t get his clothes off. He struggles a little, his fingers aren’t doing their job so he gives up instead, curls into the corner of the couch, and for the briefest moment, he sees your smile so clearly. And then his mind drifts away completely, taking his confusion and yearning for you along with it. 

At least for now, there’s not much of you he remembers. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that’ll all change when he wakes up in the morning and searches for you, knowing you won’t be around to tell him that everything is gonna be okay.

Hoseok massages his temple as his sixth call to his cousin in the last half hour remains unanswered. 

“He’s still not picking up,” he groans, the unusual feeling of annoyance bubbling inside him at Jungkook’s irresponsibility.

It’s Saturday morning and some friends of their family flew from Europe last night for lunch at the Jeons’ estate. This gathering was scheduled in time for their grandfather’s death anniversary today, and it’s an event that Mr. Jeon was adamant that Jungkook and Hoseok attend as their respective families’ representatives and as heirs of the company. Those friends had been there when their grandfather built Jeon Corporation from the ground up, and welcoming them is a sign of respect for that friendship and for the memory of the man they’re celebrating today. 

Jungkook had informed Mr. Ri that he’ll be driving himself to the estate and promised to be there before 11 AM, as what his father had requested. It’s half past that and he’s still nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been picking up his phone and his friends claim they don’t know where he is. Knowing how important today is, Hoseok wanted to accompany Mr. Ri in going to the younger man’s apartment to pick him up and find out why he’s late. When the elder Jeon asks, which he will, Hoseok would at least have a reason to give. It just better be a good one.

They both arrive at the building and are informed that Jungkook’s cars are still in their respective slots. He’s not in any of the amenities and the guards report that they haven’t seen him since he arrived on his own last night. He may not be a fan of these types of events but Jungkook always shows up. He knows what today means for their family; if not for his father, then at least for his grandfather, a man he respected and looked up to. If, for some reason, he failed to wake up, then he must be in a bad condition, and Hoseok either has to scold his cousin, or cover for him.

With no one answering the door, Mr. Ri uses his access and enters. It’s dark and quiet inside, with the blinds all closed. When he and Hoseok find Jungkook passed out on the couch with an empty whiskey bottle and beer cans on the floor, it’s the same moment that Mr. Ri’s phone rings, and it’s your name that lights up the screen.

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you groggily say. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I had a late night and just woke up. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighs, as he watches Hoseok pull Jungkook from his cowering form in an attempt to get him to wake up.

“What do you mean?” You ask, standing from your bed now, suddenly awake. 

“I was calling to ask if you knew where Jungkook was. Their family gathering is today and he was supposed to be at his parents’ house 30 minutes ago but he wasn’t. He wasn’t picking up our calls either.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know where he is,” you say softly, the mention of his name reminding you of what transpired last night, the image of Jungkook’s dejected look appearing in your mind. You worry about him though, wondering what time he got home. “Have you found him? Is he okay?” 

“Hoseok and I are at his apartment and he’s passed out drunk,” Mr. Ri states, as Jungkook finally opens his eyes and mumbles some words that the older man has to walk closer to hear. “What happened last night, ___? Why is he calling your name? And why is he asking for you to come back?”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Jungkook had spent last night drinking his feelings away. You know enough from your time with him that it’s what he does when he’s stressed or mad or frustrated, and then he wakes up the next morning and hits the gym to deal with his hangover. There’s none of that today, apparently, and you stop yourself from instructing Mr. Ri to prepare him some lemon ginger tea. 

“What happened last night, ___?” He repeats. “Did you fight?”

“We…” you start, knowing that if there’s anyone who has to know about last night, it’s the man on the other end of the phone. “We, uh… we kissed. And then he asked me not to resign then I pulled away.”

Walking towards the kitchen to hand Hoseok a glass of water, Mr. Ri asks if you’d told Jungkook of your plans, stating that he hadn’t told him about it.

“He overheard us talking last Thursday,” you respond. “He knew what I felt about him, kissed me, then asked me to stay. He said he didn’t want me to go, that he wanted to be with me, and that we could be together everyday. It didn’t feel right,” you continue, your voice shaking now as you recall the conversation. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We were supposed to talk about it. He wasn’t supposed to use my feelings against me like that.”

“Did you tell him why you’re planning on leaving?”

“No… He just went on about needing me to be with him and I… I couldn’t bear it,” you say, feeling the tears dance around your eyes. “You told me that I could always leave but even then, I’d always have a reason to stay but it would be their reason, not mine. I finally built the courage to decide on this because you know I need this. I don’t want him to be my reason this time. Or else I’ll never be able to let all of it go.”

“I know,” Mr. Ri sighs, knowing more than anyone what you mean. 

He’ll never be brave like you, but he understands that burden, that desire to just be free; he knows what it’s like to be held back even if it’s your own decision. Because at the end of the day, you’ll always think you have a debt to be paid. He knows he does, but he’ll always believe that you don’t. Surviving was always enough.

“But I think he has to know, ___,” he continues. “He wouldn’t let himself go through this kind of suffering if you don’t mean that much to him. You have to tell him the truth. And I mean everything. You owe it to yourself, too. I know he means a lot to you but you can’t move forward in any way, with or without him, if you’ll just keep him in the dark.”

You let Mr. Ri’s words settle. You told yourself the moment you entered the company that you won’t let your past define you, including your relationship with this family. You’ll work hard and everyone else will know you for that, and not for any other reason. You also knew that you’d spend every second of being here trying to prove to yourself that you’re capable, despite the irony that you were the one defining your time here based on your past that you just somehow couldn’t run away from. 

You weren’t supposed to feel anything for Jungkook. You could’ve gone on with your plan of resigning without feeling bad that you were leaving him behind. And even in that alternative reality where he’d ask you to stay, it would’ve been easy to say no. What makes this difficult is that you started to care. You got scared that if he asked you, you would stay. And now that he did, you have to be stronger than your desire to be with him.

Leaving would be hard, but staying would be much harder. 

You wish it was easy to make him understand. But you suppose without him knowing the truth, he wouldn’t be able to. 

So you give Mr. Ri permission. 

“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say. “You would. Make him understand. Maybe he’ll let me go. Maybe he’ll still come after me. And maybe he’ll forgive me, too.”

Mr. Ri hums and drops the call. He returns to the living room where Jungkook is now seated upright on the couch, downing his second glass of water and taking medicine to deal with the hangover. The blinds are now up, causing him to squint his eyes. At least he looks alive now. 

“That was ___,” Mr. Ri says. “She was wondering how you were.”

“Did you tell her I look terrible?”Jungkook asks bitterly.

“I did. She also told me what happened.”

“What… happened?” Hoseok wonders. “Did you have a big fight?”

Knowing he has no way out of this, Jungkook tells the truth. “We, uh, we kissed,” he answers, earning him a gasp from his cousin, who clarifies that while he’s not that surprised, he’s curious as to why both of you aren’t together right now.

“___ plans on resigning. He asked her not to,” Mr. Ri answers. “But you… you have to let her go, Jungkook. She needs to learn who she is and what she can do without anything holding her back.”

“If that’s her reason, then she has to know that she can keep learning who she is and what she can do here, with me,” Jungkook insists, slowly gaining clarity, as all the words he couldn’t say last night suddenly come out so easily. “There’s so much she can do. If what we feel for each other is the issue and that means she can’t directly work for me, then there are other departments where she’d fit well in. This isn’t just about convenience for me. I want to see her everyday but having her around means I get to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s treated well.”

“And then what? She’ll feel indebted to you because of that?” Mr. Ri counters. “This is more than just developing her skills or building her career, Jungkook. This is about being someone outside of this company. It’s about doing something without feeling like she constantly has to prove that she deserves what she has.”

“And she does. Who does she have to prove anything to? We’re beyond that. Everyone knows she’s capable.”

“She has to prove it to herself. It may be hard for you to understand but she… she won’t get to accept all that she is until she’s ridden herself of the burden she carries. For as long as she works for your family, she’ll always feel it.”

The words feel a little too personal, Jungkook thinks, as Mr. Ri talks about your insecurities as if he’d seen you live them, and perhaps he has. The older man witnessed those first few turbulent weeks, and having known you since you started working here through the CEO, perhaps Mr. Ri had seen how your spirit broke a little because of Jungkook.

But still, something about the way Mr. Ri looks sullenly at him says that there’s more to what the older man had seen, as if he himself is pleading for Jungkook to let you go this way, as if the care runs deep and the words carry so much more emotion.

“She needs this, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri continues. “She’s planned on leaving a few times before but her gratitude towards your family always pulled her back. If you really care about her, you won’t let that happen this time. If you want to be with her, you’ll have to do it without her being here. Regardless of what she feels for you, she needs this more. You can let her go without really letting her go, you have to know that.”

It all feels too much and Jungkook’s mind is filled with so many questions. What do you owe his family? How does proving yourself have anything to do with leaving the company? How does he fit into all this? What do you need time away for? And how can he be with you at the end of it? Would you still want that, given that he didn’t even ask you why?

“How are you sure that’s what she needs?” Jungkook asks, curiosity getting the best of him.  

“I’ve known her for 20 years, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I know it’s what she believes.”

Jungkook may still be dealing with a hangover, but he knows his ears didn’t betray him. Twenty years, that’s how long you’ve known the man he trusts with his life, the man his father trusts with his family’s life. 

The tale is an open secret. Ri Byung-hun was a kid who grew up in the streets. He tried to steal from Jungkook’s grandfather, whose construction business then was slowly taking off. The elder man took pity on the young teen and sent him to school, and Byung-hun showed his gratitude by working for the family, eventually becoming Jungkook’s father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and closest confidant all in one. The loyalty goes both ways, and it’s stood the test of time. 

Jungkook doesn’t know all the details but he knows enough. What he doesn’t know is who you are in Mr. Ri’s life, and why Jungkook hadn’t heard of you before. 

“How do you know ___?” Jungkook finally manages to ask. “Who is she to you?”

“I know ___ because of her mother. And over 20 years ago, Cho Hye-soo was your father’s assistant.”

“She— what?” 

Jungkook can’t hide his shock, and neither can Hoseok, who looks just as surprised about the truth as he is. His cousin would’ve been in his early teens at that time, and as it was when it came to their family’s children, training to become company heirs starts early, but they don’t get immersed until during their late teenage years. 

“I… I know Mrs. Cho,” Hoseok says. “I’ve met her several times but I… I never knew. They never said anything.”

“It wasn’t something they wanted people to know,” Mr. Ri explains. “Other than both of your parents, I’m the only other person who does. Too much time has passed for people to make the connection. It was just better that no one knew.” 

“What else did they not want people to know?” Jungkook asks. “What did ___ and her mom do? What… what do they owe our family?”

The elder man knew that at some point, Jungkook was going to have to learn the truth. He just didn’t think it would have to be under these conditions, and that he’d be the one telling the young man about how your lives are intertwined, that whatever pain you both carried growing up, those would always lead you back to each other. 

“Your father and Hye-soo were no different to how you and ___ are,” Mr. Ri starts. “He’d just been appointed President and he was under a lot of pressure - from your grandfather, the Board, the rest of your family… He was always stressed and it didn’t help that he was a perfectionist, just like you. That obviously affected your family, but it also affected those who worked for him, especially Hye-soo, who felt that she had a lot to prove.”

She didn’t have a Seoul education but she was smart and resourceful, incredibly hardworking and devoted, something you inherited from her, the elder man shares. The similarities are striking, and Jungkook braces himself, hoping that they end there. 

“She always had to work overtime, including weekends, and that took a lot of time away from being with ___. Hye-soo would leave her daughter in the library where her friend worked, and that seemed to be enough. But of course, it wasn’t easy, especially with a partner who lost his job and started drinking to cope.”

As Mr. Ri continues, Jungkook starts to fear something else, and so he asks. 

“Did… did he hurt them?”

“He yelled a lot,” Mr. Ri answers. “I’d hear it sometimes during breaks when she’s on the phone with him and it crushed me every time. Hye-soo wouldn’t say much, just that he was a good guy who just didn’t know how to deal with hardships. She never justified his actions until of course, that piece of shit started hitting her.”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words, unable to imagine growing up in a household like that - feeling afraid, unsafe, and unfree. 

“Hye-soo assured me that Kang-ho never hurt ___. She was good at that, at protecting her child. One time, she was called to work on a Saturday and that didn’t go well with him, but she… she always puts her daughter first, and that meant work would always be her priority because it’s what pays the bills and what sends her to school,” Mr. Ri narrates, his eyes growing more dejected by the second as he recalls those times. 

“She was rushing and couldn’t properly conceal the bruise on her face. She was worried that’s why she took ___ with her. Hye-soo kept crying as your father asked her what happened. She apologized for being late and for bringing her daughter to work, and she asked to stay in the office for the night until she figured out where they could go. I had never seen her break down like that,” he says, his voice shaking now. “And I won’t forget how scared ___ looked. She was just 10 years old then, clinging to her mother and not wanting to let her go. We were all strangers to her but somehow, she knew that we were there to protect them.”

The silence goes on, as both men take in Mr. Ri’s words, but it’s Hoseok who asks what happened after, and eventually, what got you here. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon didn’t hesitate to help,” the older man shares. “They had Hye-soo and ___ stay at the staff house in their estate for a few nights until they got a new place to stay. I helped them get their stuff after Kang-ho figured out what was happening and ran.  The police had a warrant for his arrest but they couldn’t find him for days.” 

Turning to Jungkook, he adds, “your parents paid for all the legal and medical fees. Because Kang-ho knew they were helping, you all had to go away until he was found. Hye-soo and ___ went to Busan where he couldn’t trace them; your parents stayed in one of their houses in Gwangju while you and your brother were in Gwacheon.” Mr. Ri sighs at the memory as he recalls those days. “The reason why you were in that cabin was so they could protect you. I know you held a grudge against them for years because you thought they just left you there but they couldn’t stay with you, Jungkook. You were all in danger and they had to keep you and Jeong-sik safe.”

Jungkook looks back at that night when everything changed for him. Things already weren’t going well with his brother; the three-year gap and the way they were always compared kept them from getting along. His parents knew that, yet they still left him with Jeong-sik, who abandoned him in the woods when they played hide-and-seek. That’s where Jungkook was left alone, lost and scared under the rain, the thunder roaring as he yelled for someone to come. He’s always lived with that fear, always carried that memory of anger and blame within him that transformed into a habit of just pushing people away, of keeping them out because that was better to accept than the knowledge that people he trusted left him on his own. 

But there’s a reason, he learns now, one that his parents kept from him to protect you and your mother, too. It’s all too much, but he thinks now that maybe there’s a reason why you were so patient with him, why you didn’t judge him that night at the guest house, why you somehow understood what he was so scared of. He doesn’t know if you know that the night at the cabin had anything to do with what you and your mother went through, but regardless, maybe that’s why he always felt so strongly about you. The connection he was yearning for was always there, it’s tied to something, and he realizes it’s tied to your shared past.

“Did the police find the man?” Jungkook asks now, his headache somehow worsening from all the things he’s learning. But he just wants to know that you weren’t even more hurt, that there was a way that his parents kept you safe. 

“I did,” Mr. Ri responds. “I still had contact with people in the streets, and I left Gwacheon once I got a call that they knew where he was staying. I hunted him down and I handed him over… with a bloodied face and a few broken bones. They charged him for domestic violence and a few other crimes, including drug possession that would keep him in prison for years, long enough for Hye-soo and ___ to recover.”

“And what about you? Were you charged?” Jungkook wonders.

“No, I claimed self-defense and I—”

“But it wasn’t, was it?” Jungkook counters, knowing there’s more to what Mr. Ri is saying. 

“It wasn’t,” the old man admits, turning away as he says the words. “I could’ve done more but I… I couldn’t lose myself to the anger even if it was all I felt. I knew Hye-soo wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Jungkook says, dawning on him now that everything Mr. Ri had done was so he could protect your mother and you. He realizes that all the times that the elder man looked out for you was because he was looking out for someone he truly cared about, someone who mattered the most to the person who mattered the most to him.

“I did,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I still do.”

Jungkook recalls the night during the team building and the elder man’s words, about the woman he’d loved for so long, and that moving on from her meant expending all that love to those he cares about, and now Jungkook knows that he was referring to you. 

“Did she know? And did she love you back?”

“She… she asked me to move to Busan with her and ___,” Mr. Ri answers, his eyes faraway as memories of that conversation come rushing back, how he’d wanted to just run away and build a life he never thought he could have with the woman he’d fallen so hard for, but how he had to make the hardest decision then, knowing it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook wonders. 

“I owe everything I have to your family, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri explains. “They gave me a second chance. Your grandfather got me off the streets, your father taught me everything I know, they… they had my records cleaned. They did it when I was a kid and they did it again when I was an adult. The only way I could ever pay them back was through my loyalty. I couldn’t leave, not after everything they’ve done for me.”

“But you loved her. She was your second chance,” Jungkook argues.

“And that love caused me to commit a crime I shouldn’t have. I was going to pay for it one way or another,” Mr. Ri responds. “That’s how I chose to do it, by letting her go, knowing that I’d be able to look after her and ___ better that way. Your father would protect me, and I would protect them. That’s… that’s how things go.”

It’s a tragic love story, Jungkook thinks. Two people who feel so much having to let each other go, their own pasts pushing them towards opposite directions. Decisions were made and that pulled them apart. He supposes that reciprocated feelings aren’t always enough.

“What happened after that?” Hoseok asks now, wanting to know as well how you and your mother managed, and if there’s any more danger that you face.

“They stayed in Busan for a few years. They only returned to Daegu after they learned that Kang-ho died in prison after acquiring some respiratory disease,” Mr. Ri replies. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeon helped with the move, too. They had me check on Hye-soo and ___ almost every month, just to make sure they were doing well. It was hard, of course. Hye-soo wasn’t earning the same as she was so she took another job just to keep ___ in a good school. Mr. Jeon knew that, so he kept offering to pay for her education but Hye-soo always turned him down. That continued until she got to college, and knowing that her mom won’t accept help again, ___ was the one who decided to take the offer. They paid for her tuition, and she eventually got an internship in the company. She took the job offer, too, and she’s just been working hard ever since, thinking that she has everything to prove.”

“Why does my father think he can buy people’s loyalty just like that?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “It traps people… it gives them no option.”

“I know it may seem that way but your father knows how important loyalty is, and it’s something that he gives, too. He trusts me just as much I trust him,” Mr. Ri defends. “But when it comes to Hye-soo and ___, it isn’t about loyalty but guilt. He blames himself for what happened to them. Even if it was all Kang-ho’s fault, your father always believed that if he hadn’t been so demanding, things wouldn’t have escalated. It was all the overtime, all the unfair requests that took Hye-soo’s time from her partner, from her daughter. He carries that guilt with him and how he treated her. In a way, I think that was his wake-up call. Work stopped consuming him after. He became considerate of his staff, asking about their families and how they’re doing. He tried to make it up to you and your brother but that seemed to be the hardest thing for him; he didn’t know how to get your trust back.”

“But wasnt ___ choosing to work here about loyalty? She stayed every time he asked her to. She wouldn’t have if she felt indebted to our family,” Jungkook remarks, not wanting to delve into his own relationship with his father. 

“She wanted to repay them just so her mom would stop carrying that burden,” Mr. Ri says. “They were able to get away and build a new life where they were safe because of your parents and for ___, that always meant everything. She planned to work for them, but even a part of her felt that all the opportunities she was given was out of kindness. She always felt she didn’t deserve it but your parents also think they can’t ever make it up to her and her mother enough.”

At the silence, he continues. “People are complicated that way, I guess. We all have our own burdens to carry, our own past to deal with, our own actions to make peace with and accept. We make decisions based on what we think is best and just hope we don’t regret them in the future. But we also make them as a way to take control of our own lives. Even if I regret letting Hye-soo go, I at least did it knowing that I’ll either have another chance at being with her, or that someone else will. And someone did, and I know for a fact that he loves her and ___ with all of him.”

“In that sense, maybe resigning is ___’s way of taking control of her life this time, don’t you think?” Hoseok turns to Jungkook, understanding where you’re coming from now, as he knows the feeling of not having to constantly prove yourself to others. “She finally wants to let that burden go, to live as she wishes without feeling like she doesn’t deserve what she has, even if it means not being next to you the way she wants to. If you make her stay, how do you think she can move on from all this? How can you be sure she’s happy?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, knowing it’s not enough to process everything he’s learned this morning. There’s that past he didn’t know he shared with you, there’s his relationship with his father that he doesn’t know how to mend, there’s his feelings for you, one that’s still so strong and inescapable. 

And then there’s the thought that you’d known everything all along. You’ve been patient with him, you've been kind and understanding. Was that all because you felt like you had to? Because he’s the son of the people you feel that you owe a lot to?

It’s not that Jungkook doubts your feelings for him, but he wonders if you do. Now that you’re able to make that decision to leave, what if walking away from his family also means you realize that your feelings are tied to that indebtedness, too? How real was it for you? And after you find yourself outside of all this, would you still want him?

The thoughts make his heart break, and this tells him that after knowing everything, he still can’t deny what he feels about you. He still wants you just as much. Maybe the familiarity he always felt was because you are familiar. Maybe the connection was because of a painful past you both share, of a kind of pain you both understand. Maybe the intensity of feelings is a remnant from his childhood, one that’s tied to yours in a serendipitous way. 

He’d like to think that even without knowing, you held out for him. You could’ve chosen to leave anytime before he came but you didn’t, and your paths crossed this way and he convinces himself that you were always meant to meet each other, that you were always meant to make up for how intertwined and unfortunate your lives are. You never met then but this time, when you did, it meant so much more. He could only hope that it’s something you hold onto as well, and that when you decide to finally walk away, it doesn’t mean you walk away from him completely, too. 

“Kook, I know there’s a lot to think about but you have to get going,” Hoseok disrupts his thoughts. “Your father still wants us at that lunch. I know grandfather would, too.”

“You should go ahead, Hoseok,” Mr. Ri says. “Just make an excuse to your uncle and say I’m helping Jungkook fix up. We’ll head there right away.”

“No, tell him that I know,” Jungkook insists. “If… if he’s always wanted to mend our relationship, he and I have to start being honest with each other.”

“I will,” Hoseok says as he stands up to leave. “Get your head together, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”

Jungkook massages his temples, knowing that he doesn’t have time to get a workout in and rid himself of this terrible hangover. But he tries, as he takes a warm shower and asks Mr. Ri to prepare him a cup of lemon ginger tea and get some ginseng jelly for the ride. 

The trip to his parents’ estate starts off quiet, but the thoughts in his head are so loud that the older man asks what else is bothering him. 

“How was her time in Busan?” Jungkook asks.

“It was good. She was a shy kid but she found good people she trusted and that meant everything,” Mr. Ri answers. “I visited them often, even when they returned to Daegu. But I stopped once ___ moved back to Seoul after college. I’d ask her about her mother every now and then. It was nice to hear how well they’re doing, and how happy they are with their new family. Min-woo’s a good man and his daughters love Hye-soo and ___ so much. It turned out well for them. When I think about that, it’s really hard not to justify the decisions I made.”

“Will you make them again? If given the chance?”

“If I still think it’s what’s best then, then I would. Sometimes we make decisions because of the other person, not exactly for ourselves. Sometimes that’s how we realize just how much we love them, you know? When their happiness trumps our own.”

Jungkook merely hums. While he doesn’t think he’s at that point with you, he cares enough to want you to have that chance to find your happiness, in whatever form that may be. And if leaving the company is what it takes, then he knows you deserve that and more. It doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you can search for it while being with him, but perhaps it’s better if you find your way back to him instead. He’ll at least know you chose him, and not because you felt like you owed it to him to stay.

They make it to his parents’ estate over an hour late. The guests have arrived and Jungkook greets them before finding his father. When their eyes meet, there’s a look of sadness in the elder man’s eyes. Perhaps it’s understanding; maybe it’s an apology.

His mother gives him a long and tight hug, one that he savors for the first time in a long while. He remained distant from his parents after he decided to pursue further studies and then work in their office abroad. It’s a relationship he’s still navigating. While his mother has always been present and affectionate, Jungkook is the one who stopped reciprocating. It just seemed easier that way, but he realizes that he’s missed her warmth after taking it for granted all these years. 

The lunch gathering lasts for a few hours. Jungkook tries to pay attention to the conversations since engaging requires too much from him, especially after the morning he’s had. But his father doesn’t reprimand him this time, and for that, he’s thankful. Hoseok keeps him on his toes though, but Jungkook’s mind constantly wanders towards you. He wonders how you got home last night, if you managed to get some rest, and if you’re spending your time being angry at him or if, by any chance, you’re missing him like he’s missing you.

It’s 5 PM by the time the last guest leaves, and with Hoseok and A-yeong needing to attend a dinner party, Jungkook is left to speak with his parents alone. 

“I heard you know the truth now,” his father says as he sits across from Jungkook in the garden. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

“Did you intend for me not to know and find out from someone else?” Jungkook asks. 

“___ applied to the company with the intention of contributing in a small way,” his father says. “She made it without any say from me and that’s a testament to her skills and capabilities. When we met after her first day, she asked that she not be treated any differently, and I agreed. I stayed true to my word and I kept my distance, but when I heard about how Mrs. Byun treated her, I knew I couldn’t just stand back. I encouraged her to apply for the EA position, knowing that she would be treated well. And with that, she asked me not to say who she is - not to Hoseok, and especially not to you. That’s not how she wants to be known. And I always respected her request.”

“Does it make any difference, son?” His mother asks. “Does knowing who she is to our family change the way you see her?”

“No, but it makes me wonder how she’d seen me all this time,” Jungkook says. “She put up with me despite how I treated her. She was kind even if I was distant. She… she let me open myself up and that’s… that’s why I like her. That's why I asked her to be with me.”

The surprise on his parents’ faces is immediate, but they stay calm, and it’s what prompts him to continue.

“I just hate to think that she suffered all that time because she still felt like she owed us. If you asked her to stay and help me, she wouldn’t have been able to turn you down. And what if… she’s confused her feelings for me for just… gratitude towards you?”

“Oh, my dear son,” his mother sighs, taking his hand as a form of comfort. “We are so sorry that all this has caused you to doubt her sincerity but if there’s one thing we know about ___ is that she’s genuine, and if you felt cared for by her, then she meant all that.”

“Yes, I did ask her to help you, because I knew that if there was someone who could get through to you, it would be her,” his father says this time.

“So you took advantage of her? Because you knew she’d do what you’d ask,” Jungkook huffs.

“I did that because I knew that she would care, that she would understand. Thinking about it now, perhaps I asked for too much,” the elder man shakes his head. “She’s a lot like her mother, and I’ve come to realize that you’re a lot like me. I needed someone like Hye-soo and somehow I just knew that you needed someone like ___. Both of you opening up and finding comfort in each other just happened, I suppose, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

“I don’t know. Because now, she doubts what I feel and I’m not sure about what she feels, too,” Jungkook admits, letting his own insecurities get the better of him. He hates that he’s started to doubt you as well. 

“If it matters, I’ve seen how she is with you. She cares about you, she worries about you. And the way you respond to her just means that your heart feels her sincerity, too,” his father responds. “Don’t let anger or fear taint that for you.”

“Aren’t you mad about what happened?” Jungkook wonders. “She’s my assistant and I ended up crossing a line. I kissed her. In my office.”

“Perhaps I should be,” his father hums. “But with her planning on resigning, I suppose you’re already feeling a lot of emotions about that. I don’t want to add anymore. You’re an adult and you know that your actions have consequences. You just have to deal with them now. And don’t ever do that again.”

There’s no anger in his father’s words. In fact, there’s comfort that Jungkook has never heard before. It suspends his worries only for a short moment, as he’s reminded that you indeed plan on leaving. When that is, he doesn’t know. But he’s gonna have to start dealing with your loss just as he needs to deal with his feelings for you. It’s all too complicated; getting together despite what you both feel isn’t that simple. Your happiness comes first. He knows he cares so much that it’s what he wants you to focus on. 

“Letting her go now doesn’t mean you have to let her go for good,” his mother tells him. “She’ll choose you if that’s what her heart says. And at least then, you’ll know for sure that she still wants you after everything.”

Jungkook’s parents’ words echo in his mind for the rest of Saturday that he spends in his living room, choosing wine as his companion for the evening. There’s no intention of getting hammered unlike the night before though. The drink calms him down and allows him to have proper sleep this time. He spends the most of his Sunday in bed, thinking about you, then attempting to remove you from his mind. 

Not wanting to deal with any more tension, he instructs Mr. Ri that Monday to just drive you straight to the office. Jungkook arrives and sees you stand up to greet him as he walks through the hallway, and he responds with a nod as his own greeting before heading straight to his room.

There’s that feeling again - of missing you, of hoping he could fix things but not knowing how, of wanting to ask you to stay but knowing he has to let you go, and of wishing that when he does, you’ll find your way back to him again. He shakes off the thoughts during that short walk to his desk, feeling himself weaken with every moment that he spends far away from you.

Jungkook takes his seat and sighs as another day starts without his usual routine. Knowing he has no other choice, he pushes on. From his periphery, he sees you glancing at him through the window, and a part of him wishes it’s your attempt at seeing if you could speak with him, maybe ask if you could talk about what happened later on or about what he now knows about you. Or anything, really. He just wants to hear your voice again. Hopefully see your smile. Despite all his doubts about you, the emptiness he feels tells him that nothing’s changed - what he feels for you is real, and he might not know what’ll happen next, but he at least knows that what he wants is to be with you; he hopes he’ll figure out how to do that with you.

He sees you glance at him again and it sparks a bit of hope. That is, until he spots the envelope on his desk, and inside it, your resignation letter.

He tries to act unaffected as he reads what you’ve written. It’s straight to the point, as you narrate your journey in the company, having started as an intern and then working in logistics before finding your footing as the Vice President’s assistant. You list the skills you’ve developed and other things you’ve learned but that you think it’s time to venture into something new and different, noting how you’ll take all your experiences with you in this new stage of your life. 

You thank him for his guidance, and he almost breaks towards the end when you mention the Arts Center. You apologize for leaving before its completion, but you’re thankful because it allowed you to appreciate the beauty of things, that it made you understand the value of meaning and connection, and that his passion for it pushed you to find something that you want to be passionate about, too. You’ve given him something, and now he knows that in his own way, he’s given something to you, too. 

You type away on your desktop while not-so-discreetly peeking into Jungkook’s office to see his reaction to your letter. Your plan was to resign after the Arts Center was launched, knowing how big of a project it is that needs all of Jungkook’s attention. He can’t be distracted, and a part of you scolds yourself for being selfish about deciding to do this now. 

But you also knew that you couldn’t delay it any longer. After what happened last Friday, you didn’t know how you could face him again, especially now that he knows everything. It didn’t feel right to continue on, not just because of your feelings but because you crossed a line - you kissed and did all that in his office. That itself is unacceptable; it almost feels like a betrayal to his family, whom you’ll have to painfully say goodbye to as well. 

Mr. Ri visited you yesterday to give you comfort, knowing that you’d choose to go through this on your own again. Jungkook was devastated but was worried about you more than anything, you were told, and somehow that made the decision less difficult but still painful to make. You don’t know if he’ll ever truly understand, especially if finding yourself means letting him go despite the happiness he gives you. 

It’s not everyday you find someone you feel so much for, but then again, human beings are complicated - they can want something and be scared of it at the same time; they can have the chance to have it but doubt it all the same. What you feel for him should be enough to dispel your worries about his sincerity but there’s too much going on in your mind at this point. Right now, you just want to get away. With him learning the truth, you suppose he needs time to process all that as well. 

You’ll miss him though. You’ll miss everything about this place. But you’ll miss him the most. 

Your phone ringing disrupts your thoughts, and your heart races when you hear Jungkook’s voice on the other end.

“Ms. Cho, please come to my office.”

You calm your nerves and find the strength to get off your seat and walk towards him. He’d been expressionless the whole time, and you wonder if he’ll hold off your resignation because it’s terrible timing. Either way, you try to prepare yourself for what’s to come. 

But clearly, you didn’t do so enough, as you’re still left speechless when he holds out an envelope for you to take, the sight of his hands that once held you close breaking your heart again.

“I accept your resignation,” he says, his voice low and firm, his eyes not fully meeting yours. “You have a month until your last day but you have two weeks worth of vacation and I urge you to take them before you leave.”

“Thank you, sir,” you manage to say, your voice soft and shaking compared to his. “I… I will.”

“And this is your recommendation letter,” he says, handing you another envelope. “You’ve shown exceptional skills throughout your tenure here, Ms. Cho. Everyone you’ve worked with says so, and I’ve seen that firsthand. I’m sure that wherever you decide to work after this, you’ll be another great asset. And my family wishes you good luck in your future endeavors. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

The words are too formal, too professional for your liking, and this breaks your heart even more. But you suppose there’s no other way to do it. You’re the one leaving; you’re the one who pulled away. After everything that’s happened, you’re the one who walked out to find your happiness when Jungkook needed you the most, and you could only hope that one day, he’ll forgive you for it. That he’ll forgive you for all of it.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in thanks. “I’ve said it all in my letter but once again, I appreciate everything you’ve taught me.”

You bravely look him in the eyes as he seems to have found the courage to look at you, and the longer you do, the harder it all becomes. 

“Shall I commence the process of finding my replacement, sir?” You ask.

“There is no need,” he replies. “I’ve received approval from my father to have Lucas come in as my assistant effective immediately. He’s scheduled to arrive this week, so you can spend the remaining time you have here turning over everything to him. I will announce your resignation to the team before then. You can also begin the offboarding process with HR so that there are no delays.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon,” you say, the light in your eyes dimming as each second passes by.

“Is there anything else I could do to help you, Ms. Cho?” 

There’s a prolonged moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, his eyes tinged with a kind of sadness that you perhaps mirror, with words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d say that he’s okay, that he forgives you, and that he hopes it didn’t have to be this way. 

He wishes you’d say that you’re sorry for leaving him, that you’ll be thinking about him, and that you hope you’ll find your way back to him again.

You want to tell him that he’s all you could think about, that you’ll miss him everyday, that you’ll search for  beautiful things that are tangible like you said you would, and hope they would lead you back to him. 

He wants to say that he’ll look for you everywhere, that he’ll hold onto every good memory you have together, that he hopes you find whatever makes you happy, and that he’ll wait for you until you realize that it could be him.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and head out the door.

You take your seat and will yourself not to cry. You can’t help it though, even as you press your palms against your ears to drown out the sounds of your own sadness, of your heart’s call of his name even if you’re the one walking away. 

You let the tears fall, a reminder that you’d done this, and that for the first time in your life, you’re crying over losing someone, even if he was someone you didn’t have in the first place. 

Maybe you weren’t meant to have him at all. 

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[kurogane2512]

HI KURO I LOVE YOUR WORKS SM CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE CHIORI AND G!P READER WHERE READER FUCKS THE HELL OUT OF CHIORI AFTER BEING PENT UP FOR SO LONG 😓😓

In celebration of Chiori's release, here you go!

18+ CONTENT

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: Chiori x g!p reader

Type: Smut (blowjob, table sex, creampie)

It was a pleasant evening when you went to Chiori's boutique to ask for a new set of formal clothes as you were to attend a gathering at your workplace in a week. You didn't expect the shop to be so filled to the brim even at this hour, but you knew it couldn't be helped.

"Welcome to Chioriya Boutique. How may I help you?" Chiori's assistant greeted you at the entrance, you glanced around and saw Chiori attending to a customer hence decided to wait for her. Chiori also saw you walk in but paid no heed and focused on her work at hand, that's just how she was and you had problems. You sat in the waiting area and watched her diligently work with the customers around her, admiring her style and ethics.

You didn't expect her to tend to you first just because you were her partner; and frankly, you preferred to be tended later when there were less people around. Hours passed as you sat and waited, occassionally helping yourself to some tea and snacks and reading some magazines. You realized you were the last in line since nobody else came in after you and Chiori was still quite busy with others.

At last, Chiori was finally free to tend to you but to her surprise, you had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for her. Her expression remained steeled but she felt slightly guilty inside for making you wait so long, it was perhaps due to the fact that she knew you won't force yourself in the middle that she rested easy and decided to come to you last.

She sent her assistants home for the day and closed the blinders of the shop then walked up to you and extended her hands towards your face to cup it but quickly retracted it and cleared her throat.

"Y/n, wake up. It's your turn now."

Her sharp voice rang through your ears and you jolted awake to see her standing in front of you with her arms crossed over chest. You hurriedly stood up but looked around to see the shop was empty and she had pulled out the blinders in the front, finally realizing it was quite late.

"A-Ah, I'm sorry. It seems you are closing up now, I'll come tomorrow morning."

Chiori stared at you with her usual straightforward expression then held your wrist and pulled you towards her work table before grabbing her tools.

"Don't waste time. What clothes do you want?"

"Um... I wanted a formal suit for a workplace gathering, something elegant and simple but enough as a party wear, if that makes sense."

Chiori nodded and took out a few fabric pieces to make you choose, you hesitantly went over the choices then finally picked one of them and she grabbed her measuring tape then came in front of you.

"W-Wait, don't you already have my measurements....?"

"Hmph, and what if you have changed in some areas? The measurements are almost 4 months old now, and with your eating habits I'm certain you have lost a few inches here and there."

"H-Hey, don't put it so bluntly. I try to eat well now..." you spoke in an embarrassed tone and looked away. Chiori smiled to herself for a moment then donned her usual expression and began taking your measurements.

"Hmm... I knew it, your shoulders are thinner by 3 cm.... and your waist by 8 cm... Seriously, what are you even eating?"

Chiori mumbled as she went all around your upper body then kneeled down in front to take measurements for your pants. You blushed all of a sudden looking at her in such a tempting position and felt your cock twitch in your pants, hoping she would be done soon and doesn't notice. Chiori then placed the tape on your pants' button and aligned it till your crotch point, noticing a small bulge as soon as she pressed the tape on it.

Chiori grinned and pressed the tape once again, earning a startled gasp from you. "Hmm, seems one part of you has grown at the very least. Looks like all that you are eating is going here~"

Chiori teased while palming your crotch, vibrations going up your body. She then zipped down your flyer and fished out your semi-erect cock, pumping it slowly and languidly.

"Ngh~ C-Chiori...."

"....I'll make it up to you for the wait." Chiori whispered then kissed your tip, your face becoming flushed at her actions.

"But first, take off your clothes. I don't want any fabrics getting dirty."

You couldn't do anything but comply, you swiftly pulled off your shirt and pants then stood in front of her and watched her pull down her kimono followed by her tights, keeping her underwear on. She dropped to her knees again and began pumping your cock like before, the length fully erect now. She placed her lips around the head and swiped her tongue over the slit, sucking and licking your cock.

Your groaned and gently held her head to stabilise yourself, she began bobbing her head up and down your length now. You thrusted your hips into her with a rhythmic motion, your tip brushing the back of her throat every time. Her hands massaged your balls and pumped your base as she continued bobbing her head, you sighed at the feeling of her warm and wet tongue slurping along that one vein and the way her cheeks hollowed as she sucked.

"Gah—! Chiori! T-Too fast—!~"

"I have to... close the shop soon.... hurry up and cum." Chiori moaned around your length, sending shivers down your body and you gripped her hair tighter.

Chiori eagerly bobbed her head and sucked your cock as if she was starved, perhaps she really felt bad for making you wait this long, or perhaps she simply wanted this so much. Your cock twitched as you formed a perfect rhythm with your thrusts, lightly gripping her hair and pulling her closer to plunge deeper.

"I'm close....nggh~" you moaned and Chiori hummed then swallowed your cock entirely, your eyes rolling to your skull as you instantly released inside her. Your hips jerked forward and you pulled her mouth flush against your abdomen, sending small thrusts inside her as you spurted your load. Chiori barely managed to swallow all your load, some drops dripping down her chin onto her breasts that she scooped up and licked.

"How messy. Good thing we removed our clothes." Chiori teased with a grin as she stood up and you suddenly pushed her to the table before turning her around and bending her body on it. Chiori gasped in surprise then moaned feeling your throbbing cockhead rub against her own drenched folds.

"Hmm.... you are slow, Y/n. Put it in already."

"I'm slow? Did you forget you are the one who made me wait for hours?~" you husked in her ear and licked the shell, your body resting on her back as you continued grinding your cock between her thighs.

"H-Hmph! Don't consider yourself special just cause you are my girlfriend—!"

"Oh, but I do. After all, you wouldn't accept this payment method from anyone else, right?~"

"Heh, do you want to be thrown out of my shop?~"

"Oh, try me~"

You immediately sheathed inside her in a swift motion, a loud gasp leaving her mouth as her body arched off the table. Your groaned at her tightness, her walls clenching you so well. You rutted into her in slow and shallow thrusts at first, making her more restless as she chased her release.

"I told you to get on with it! It's already so late—Mhm!~"

You suddenly slammed deep inside, prodding her sensitive spot. You then continued hammering against that same spot with a fast pace, your thighs slapping against her ass eliciting erotic noises in the shop. It was a good thing she put the blinders on the window, otherwise the Thundering Seamstress' dignity would be in trouble. You pounded at an animalistic pace, her body arching into you with each thrust and a moan filling your ears.

"Gonna cum again... damn, you are so tight for me, Chiori~"

"Mhmmm.... s-stop talking.... just fuck me....!~"

"My, such crude language is unbecoming of you, Ms Chiori~"

You smiked and pushed her further down by her lower back, making a beautiful arch of her body. You gripped her hips and drilled forward, your thick cock splitting her open. Her mind was hazy fron the stimulations, and soon after she felt a surge of hot and gooey liquid filling her up. She moaned as her walls clenched your cock and she released too, a ring of cum forming at the base of your cock.

You pulled out and watched some of the cum drip down her folds while she laid panting atop the table. You turned her around and held her up in your arms, her hands wrapping around your neck and legs around your waist. You kissed her deeply and passionately, then carried her to the couch and plunged your cock inside her again.

"H-Hey! Let's go home and— aaah!~"

"No, we do it right here. You made me wait for so long, you have to compensate me right~"

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes ch 8

masterpost Danny did his best not to float through the building. His chest buzzed pleasantly with cheerful nerves. Jason had let him into his haunt and let him meet a family member: it was only fair to reciprocate with a little vulnerability. He was more than a little nervous that his interests weren’t cool enough. But Jason was actually listening to him, not rolling his eyes or hiding boredom at how many details Danny rattled off. It was really nice. It made him want to find out what Jason was passionate about, too. It made him want to curl under Jason’s arm. Like, lift it up and insert himself in the warm space between Jason’s body and arm. He could just sneak on in there-

Hmm. Wait. Danny blinked as he tracked his train of thought back. PDA? He stole a glance. Probably not a good idea so early into hanging out. It would come off clingy. Since Danny was legitimately a clingy motherfucker, he had to play it cool for a while to trick Jason into a false sense of security. He was trying to be on his best behavior still. 

“Oh hell yeah, we’re going to the Ring Nebula.” Jason was reading the signage, bright eyes tracking everyone moving around them and steering them effortlessly. Danny noted the multitasking with a sort of puzzled admiration. He could walk in a crowd or he could read, just one of the two. “What’s a nebula?” An incredibly subtle aura washed out from him with his self assurance and confidence. Jason just felt so in control. It was incredibly reassuring to be around. Crowds parted for him and all Danny had to do was keep pace. 

“It’s the remains of a star.  That’s a Messier object, actually. There’s a white dot at the center which is a white dwarf and then around it there’s helium, hydrogen, oxygen-” Danny cut himself off, embarrassed. He was so messy, oozing excitement all over the place. He reeled himself in and cleared his throat. “You can read about it when we get there.”

Jason frowned very slightly.

Danny felt his stomach twist. 

“What’s a Messier object?”

Oh. Danny relaxed. He talked with his hands as he explained the French astronomer, barely noticing the crowd swell that nearly bumped into him. Jason put an arm over his shoulder and steered him away. Danny absently recognized the assist but didn’t have any processing power to think about it right now. 

Jason let him go on for most of the date, which Danny would probably be embarrassed by later. In the moment, he basked in the attention. It was just nice, okay?

“I should head back.” Jason said with regret. His arm clenched just a little harder on Danny’s shoulder. His hand was warm where it hung down Danny’s chest. “Gotta get Duke his bribe and then get ready for work.” 

Danny waited for a moment. He didn’t want to step away. But maybe Jason didn’t either, because he didn’t take his arm off.

‘One of us has to move first.’

“Yeah, of course.” Danny regretfully disentangled himself, ducking out of the hold. He was a grownup or whatever. “Better get a move on. What are we getting for Duke?” They’d only snacked on ice cream while they were in the planetarium. 

Jason checked the time on his phone and let out a huffing sigh. “I don’t have time for my original plan.”

‘Because he humored me here for two hours…’

“Gimme a sec, I’ll call him and ask what he wants me to pick up.” Danny nodded in response and started jogging down the stairs out of the building, trying not to look like he was listening in. He didn’t want to listen in, he just had really good ears.

Ring once, ring twice. Then Duke picked up the call.

“Hey,” Jason said. “I-”

“Hey yourself,” said an unfamiliar voice that definitely was not Duke. It was sweet with malice.

‘Did Jason’s little brother get kidnapped while we were out?’ Danny wondered, struck still with horror. He stopped with one foot hovering over the next stair and wheeled around to look at his date.

Jason looked thunderous, brow pulled low and teeth showing. “Fuc- why do you have his phone?” Jason’s tone went high and aggrieved.

Danny prepared himself to beat the shit out of a living human. It wouldn’t be hard. 

“Because I am his favorite older brother. Obviously.”

Oh. The fight left Danny’s body in a rush.

“I am pressing X,” Jason snarked. He squeezed Danny’s shoulder and guided him into movement again. “Give it back to him and get out of my house.”

“Tu casa es mi casa,” said the man who had to be the infamous Dick, balcony infestation. “Why do you care?” His tone was so innocent that Danny sort of wanted to turn on his heel to escape whatever older shithead sibling fuckery this was. “Aren’t you busy making kissy faces at the summoning guy?”

Danny bounced off of Jason’s chest when he stopped walking midstep.

‘How does he know that? Jason didn’t say anything, right?’

“And, follow up question for Jay, does this make you a monsterfucker?” Duke howled with laughter in the background. Danny noted the betrayal. 

Dick sounded gleeful as he pushed on the topic. “He’s dead, right? What supernatural romance genre are you in? Is he going to take you to his creepy castle and keep you there? Does he have an ancient enemy who might kidnap you? Do you think he could carry you away when he rescues you? Are you looking forward to that?”

Danny huffed and yanked Jason’s hand down to bring the phone closer. He hit the speaker. “Of course I could carry him. But I would not keep him in my creepy castle against his will, you jerk,” he fumed. “And I don’t have any ancient enemies! At last, no one that I haven’t already beat up. It’s fine. Shut up and go away.” He crossed his arms.

Jason was bright red. Dick started laughing hysterically on the other side of the phone. “This is- hi, Danny!” he cackled. “You have a creepy castle, though? For the record?”

Oh no. He felt a rock form in his stomach.

‘I probably should have kept my mouth shut.’

He looked at Jason’s feet guiltily. Belatedly, he let go of his grip on Jason’s wrist.

“You sound great, wanna meet up? I need to hear about how you’re so sure you could carry my little brother away from danger. It sounds romantic.” Dick cooed. Ew. Danny bristled. This was bringing up all sorts of Jazz related trauma.

“He will not be meeting you.” Jason took the phone back. “Ever.”

“Ever?” Dick scoffed. “I really doubt that. I don’t think you could keep him away from me for one day.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason somehow puffed up his chest. “Then come find me, jackass.”

“See if I don’t.” 

Danny scoffed. “As if I need his help to dodge some nosy dweeb,” he sniffed. “Bring it, balcony creep.” He hit the end button before thinking about it.

The staircase suddenly seemed very quiet. 

Jason and Danny looked at the phone for a moment. Then Danny frowned as he realized what he’d done. “I was going to like, go back home,” he pointed out uneasily. “But that doesn’t seem in the spirit of this shitty brother challenge. And, uh.” He cleared his throat. “You had evening plans, right….”

Jason groaned and paced a few steps. He ran a hand through his hair. Danny idly watched it and wished it was his hand there. “Uh… Sorry. I can tell him to fuck off, that you’ve got better things to do.”

“...I don’t have better things to do,” Danny admitted. “I kinda want to see if he can hunt us. He’s just some guy, right?”

Jason made a face.

“Just a human guy?” Danny repeated slowly, because the hesitation there was uh, really interesting. 

“You remember how we met, right?” Jason sort of shuffled in place for a moment before he herded Danny down the sidewalk in the direction they had originally come from. “I wouldn’t say he’s a normal guy.”

…Oh, right, he’s a vigilante. Danny snorted. “That’s cute,” he said, not even trying to avoid cockiness. “I’m not worried.” He cracked his knuckles and didn’t pay attention to how bloodthirsty his grin was. “I am going to destroy your brother in a game of hide and seek so brutally that you won’t be able to look up to him afterwards.”

Jason opened his mouth. He closed it, with a considering expression. “That’s hot. Yeah, show me what you have. I can skip patrol for the night.” He gave Danny a roguish grin. “Where to, first? We have an hour before he’s out on the streets. We can get dinner, strategize?”

Danny closed his mouth on the boast that he didn’t need to strategize. This was a perfect opportunity to spend an hour batting his eyes at Jason from across a candlelit table. “Somewhere nice,” he said innocently. “He won’t immediately look for us at a date spot, will he?”

[activesplooger]

ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ | ᴠᴏx x ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇ��

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) PART 5 LETS FUCKING GOOOOO!!! sorry for the long wait, lowkey got burnt out for a bit and then overwhelmed and then uh life went downhill for a hot sec but IM BACK BABYY. I hope ygs like this one <3

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Life has improved now that Vox is trying to not be shitty! However, a work crisis occurs and Vox starts to spiral, but luckily you're there to help!

ᴄᴡ: company crisis!!!, bickering, fluffffyyyyyy :]

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3,406

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 4 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 5

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴘᴏꜱᴛ!

Life has improved tremendously over the past week. With Vox working on himself instead of lashing out, the work environment is much better! Employees no longer sulk and cower in fear of upsetting their menacing boss; instead, they stand taller with a diligent work ethic. It not only boosted morale but also boosted profits! More work is getting done and there are fewer errors since the workers aren't so shaken up anymore.

As for Vox.... while he isn't as cruel as before, he's still kind of a dick. Everything shitty he did before is still there, just not as aggressive or hostile. He doesn't yell as much, though he still does. He doesn't harm employees anymore, but he sure as hell threatens to!

It's been a challenge, to say the least. He still lashes out from time to time but always covers it up with an "I'm sorry" and a VoxTech gift basket sent to their desk. That's a reoccurring pattern in Vox's behavior — vile one moment, apologizing the next. It isn't ideal, that's for sure, but it's certainly better than before. Nonetheless, progress is progress! You're proud(ish).

Today was an ordinary work day: getting work done while navigating around your boss's temper changes. You glance at the clock reading "8:00pm", you're at the end of your shift. The lights had gone out an hour ago, the automatic system shutting them off at 7:00 when most employees on your floor had already left. You're the last one in the office, the rest of the building is dark except for the light emanating from your computer. Before you go, you go to check on Vox before leaving in case he has any last-minute tasks for you. Part of you wanted to leave and sink into the couch of your crappy apartment, but alas, you just had to be a good assistant or whatever. You curse yourself for caring about your job. Maneuvering around the office, you find the hallway to Vox's office. You manage to navigate the circular door to his office, stumbling over your heels as you walk through it. Ah, finally, light.

You take a minute for your eyes to adjust to the light, a stark contrast to the pitch black you were previously wandering in. Your heels click on the black walkway to Vox's desk, the closer you get, the more you realize that he seems to be in distress. His jacket was tossed across his chair, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he focuses on the various monitors in front of him. He clicks frantically from screen to screen, seeming to be in search of something important. "C'mon cmon," he mutters, eyes wide and anxious as he continues his panicked search, "how the fuck did it get out?!"

"Vox?" you pipe up, startling Vox out of his work-trance state. He swivels on his chair to face you. "Oh! Jesus," he exclaims, hand clutching his chest, "you scared the shit out of me! How many times have I told you to fucking knock?!". "Sorry," you apologize, you had a bad habit of sneaking up on people incidentally. He sighs, resting an elbow on an armrest and resting his hand in his palm. His eyes close shut as teal claws massage his forehead in slow circles, "No no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled.". You shrug, "It's fine, really. I should've just knocked instead of being creepy. He chuckles softly at that, still kneading his forehead. "You okay?". "I'm fine. Go home, Y/N." he says dismissively. You exhale harshly, he clearly needs help, "No, I won't just 'go home'. Clearly, something's wrong here.". He looks up at you, lifting his head off his hand, "You can't therapize me out of this one.". "Haha, very funny," you remark sarcastically, "Seriously though, I'm your assistant. It's literally my job to help.".

The TV demon groans, standing up from his chair and beckoning you over with a curled teal claw. You walk over to him, looking intently as he points to a news article on the screen. The article was essentially about a company pirating unreleased VoxTech products through some leak. "There's really no reason to worry," you reassure, "it's one measly leak from one of our weaker ideas, we can just make sure nothing else-". "It's too late!" he points to report after report of unveiled products of our company that somehow got disclosed, "It's all from this shady company that's bootlegging my products in different rings. And I can't track them because he doesn't use our technology, they use some shitty electronics brand from the greed ring." Oh shit, this is actually more serious than you thought.

You sigh and set down your things, leaning over the desk to get a closer look at the disclosed information, "Alright, let's see what we can do here.". Vox furrows his eyebrows, leaning to the side to see what you're doing, "What? Who's we?". Whipping your head back, you look back at him with confusion, "You and I. I'm helping you.". "No, no, no," he chuckles, shaking his head with an incredulous demeanor, "'we' are not doing anything. I'm fine, I can do this on my own.". You roll your eyes, "Oh c'mon! I'm your assistant, It's literally my job to help you.". A groan escapes his mouth, begrudgingly accepting your help, "Fine, fine! Come on, then. Don't waste time.".

The TV demon briskly makes his way over to the exit. You scramble to grab your things and catch up to him. He leaves his office and leads you to the conference room. With a snap of his fingers, teal electricity bolts out to the lights and flickers them on. Show off. The light switch was literally inches away from him.

You set your stuff down in front of one of the chairs and sit in it. Vox takes the seat across from you and opens up his laptop. He flips it over to you, gesturing to it with a sarcastic expression, "Alright, work your magic, genius.". Exhaling sharply, you get to work, "Maybe we can track the people who leaked it through there website?". You type away on the computer, searching for any sign of how the leak got out or who disclosed it.

Vox rests his head in his palm, giving you an "impress me" look. A few minutes pass and Vox grows impatient, "See?! It's not working! Just let me do it, this clearly isn't getting us anywhere.". He reaches for the computer but you shift it away from him before he can snatch it. You glare at him, insulted that he didn't trust in your aptitude, "It's literally been like 2 minutes!". A defeated sigh escapes his lips, "Fine. Sorry.".

He looks down at the table with an almost bashful expression, too prideful to look you in the eye as he apologizes. You hand him back his laptop and pull out your own, "It's fine. Let's work together, alright? Just be patient and I'm sure we'll find a solution.". He nods and gets back to work, searching for any clues of how the information got out. A sigh escapes his lips, pushing his sleeves up higher to his biceps.

--

A couple hours passed and you had barely gotten anywhere. "Fuck, we might be here all night at this rate," he complains. "Yeah," you reply, "maybe...". Fuck, why did that excite you? This is so dumb it's literally just working overtime with your boss... but it means more to you. The last time you had "spent time" with Vox like this was pre-Alastor incident; all the post-incident "hang-outs" were just Vox berating you for some minute error. But that's over now, and you have a new start with him... Part of you hopes it'd be like it was before, however, you knew that probably wouldn't happen. Still, you're hopeful.

The TV demon's composure starts to decline, stress sending him into overdrive. His electricity starts to flare around his screen, teal jolts of electricity emanating from his head as his frustration increases. "Maybe we should take a break-" you suggest, not wanting Vox to blow a fuse. He slams his hands on the table, "A break?! During a crisis?! Are you fucking with me?". The lights start to flicker, your laptop screen going wonky as his anger rises. You have to be careful with how you handle this or a ring-wide power outage could happen.

"Vox," you say softly, "I think it'd be best if we take a break, if we just keep overworking our thoughts will clutter.". He scoffs and rolls his eyes, "What do you know about working?! You're just an assistant, I created my own goddamn empire!". That set you off, no longer caring about coddling his feelings. You rise up from your seat and march over to him pointing an accusatory finger, "What do I know?! Oh, I don't know, maybe just a few things from the years of experience I've had working here! Are you forgetting that I've been here since day one?! Nobody has been here longer than me, not even you!".

Vox looks stunned at your outburst, his wide eyes looking up at you with guilt. The tension grows between you, an awkward silence settling. Relaxing your arms to your sides, you take a deep breath and walk back over to your seat. Vox's eyes follow you as you sit back down, a shocked and curious expression on his face.

You wanted to apologize for being unprofessional, but you didn't. What you said was justified, you weren't gonna let him push you around anymore. Things aren't how they used to be, and you needed to make that clear. Vox's expression is one of guilt and pride, not wanting to say anything to hurt his dignity or upset you further. He get's back to work, occasionally glancing up from his laptop to gauge your emotions; you look frustrated and stressed.

The two of you didn't speak, the only sound being the clacking of keys on your computers and the occasional chair squeak. Vox, noticing the tension, tries to clear the awkward silence. He clears his throat, "...remember the last time we had to do this...?". You look up from your laptop, an annoyed expression on your face, "Do what? Fight?". "No, no," he explains softly, "I meant work overtime together...". "Oh," you blink in surprise, you can't believe he'd remember something like that, "that was a while ago, I'm surprised you remember.". The TV demon laughs quietly, his tone reminiscent and tender, "How could I forget? We were two hours into work and you had already fallen asleep, I ended up having to do it all myself.". He remembered that..? You chuckle softly, a playful smile stretching across your face, "Yeah, not this time though.". Vox rolls his eyes lightheartedly, "Yeah, right.".

--

A few hours pass by of hard work, it's now around 2 in the morning. The only sounds for the past hour have been brief updates on new information and the ticking of the clock on the wall. You ended up finding something promising, a well known hell-born hacker that could help find the person who leaked the products, "Hey, Vox! I think I found something!". No response. "Vox?". you peak over your computer and see Vox passed out on his laptop keyboard. Chuckling softly, you mutter to yourself, "Hmph, ironic.".

You do some more research on the hacker and hire him, hoping that this will solve your problems. Grabbing your things, you stuff them in your bag and get ready to leave. As you're about to go, you catch a glimpse of Vox, still sleeping on his laptop. With a sigh, you walk over and clear the clutter from around him, helping him pack his stuff as he peacefully rests. "Why am I doing this..?" you mutter to yourself. Carefully, you remove the laptop from under him and replace it with a pillow. Once he seemed as comfortable as one can get for sleeping in an office, you turn off the lights and leave.

--

You drive home to your little apartment in the entertainment district, just down the street from the Vee Tower. Fumbling with your keys, you walk in and trudge into the bathroom. Feeling absolutely exhausted, you do a short version of your nightly routine and b-line it to your bedroom. You kick off your heels and slip into some pajamas, the soft soothing fabric embracing you like a hug. The lights flick off, darkness enveloping your room as you sink into the warmth of your bed sheets.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, your mind starts playing the "keep me awake" reel. Your thoughts start to drift, randomly remembering embarrassing moments from years back and deadlines that stress you out. "God damn it, why am I like this," you mutter.

You manage to get a few hours of sleep before waking up in the middle of the night with an urge to complete some projects that weren't due for a month. Springing up out of bed, you put on your uniform and get ready for work. 'Gotta check to see if the hacker did his job... then I'll finish making appointments for Vox... and then..." you think to yourself, brewing a cup of coffee and hastily pouring it into a to-go cup.

--

As you try to open the door to work, it's locked. Of course, it's locked. What other psycho comes to work at 3am?! "Ugh!" you groan. Luckily, you made enough noise to alert one of Valentino's workers. The sultry demon clad in lingerie opens the door, an impish smile etched across her picture-esque features as she ushers you inside. "Ah, you must be my co-star!" she takes your hand and shakes it softly, bending over to meet eye-to-eye with you. You then quickly ushered onto some type of library set. "I think you have me mistaken-" you squeak, your face beet red from the mix-up. Did she really think you're a pornstar? Part of you was flattered, the other part completely flustered over the interaction. Dang, a simple handshake and you're jittery?! 'I need to get laid,' you think to yourself.

Valentino walks over, "VANESSA! What is taking so lo-". The moth demon's eyes fall on you, his expression neutralizing, "Sweetheart what are you doing on my set?". "S-sorry Val! I came into work early and then uh your worker thought I was an actor-". "You know," He circles around you, checking you out as he undresses you with his eyes. A chill went down your spine, ugh, creepy. "Our other star is running quite late," He chuckles and leans in, his voice dropping to a buttery whisper, "Wanna be a star~?". "I'm good!" you squeak, backing away for as much personal space as possible. The moth demon's eyes stay fixed on you, "Are you sure? There's a hot market for sexy little tech nerds right now~ And I'd looove to get some-". "N-nope!" you interrupt, trying to ignore the hotness of your face, "seeyouaroundtheoffiebye!". You dart out of the room, using your bag to cover the bright red hue of your face. "The offer always stands, baby!" he calls out.

'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod-'. You wish you could say that was the first time Valentinos tried to convince you to do porn. And every time, you stammered out a decline and left before he tried to manipulate you with his smoke.

--

Vox blinks awake, taking in the familiar surroundings of the conference room, "Fuck, did I fall asleep here...?". The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills his nostrils, the mere scent perking him up. Lifting his head up, he sees you, holding out a coffee to him, "Good morning.". "Morning..." he mutters, grabbing the coffee cup and taking a swig of it, "Why are you here so early.". "Couldn't sleep," you reply vaguely, tidying up the room as you speak. Suddenly, the events of last night's crisis settle back into his mind, immediately flipping open his laptop and frantically scrolling, "W-What? Where's the leaked articles I don't-".

"Oh! The little hacker I hired took care of it," you smile softly as you explain, "I was wondering when they'd pull through!". Vox stares at you with wide eyes, almost like he admires you in some way, "You fixed it? The thing that I was trying to do for hours, all by yourself?". You nod, "Mhm, pretty simple actually I just did some research and hired this infamous programmer that could track and take down the leaks.". A giddy smile stretches across his screen, a bark of laughter escaping him, "Thank God! You have no idea how much that was stressing me out!". Overcome by relief and happiness, he strides over and hugs you, lifting you in the air as he embraces you tightly.

The action takes you off guard, surprised at his sudden display of affection. Your face burns red for the second time today, what's with all the affection?! Maybe you just looked extra hot or something.

His eyes shoot open in embarrassment as he realizes what he just did, quickly setting you down quickly on the floor. He clears his throat, trying to find a subject to ease the tension. "Uh," you stammer for a moment, looking for anything that could ease the tension. Just then, you remember there's a small bottle of champagne stored in the mini-fridge. You grab the bottle and wave it with an awkward smile, "Should we celebrate?". "Oh! Yes," he exclaims, letting out a sigh of relief. "That's a much more appropriate way to celebrate..." he mutters under his breath.

You pop open the champagne and pour a generous amount in two flute glasses. Vox grabs the glass and takes a sip, "So, anything interesting happened while I was asleep?". You shrug, "Aside from seeing you sleep like a baby? Not much.". "You were watching me while I sleep? That's normal," he teases playfully. "But hey," he begins, "can't blame you for admiring a masterpiece.". Rolling your eyes, you take another sip, "Yeah, "masterpiece". That's a funny way to say drowsy mess.".

"Oh, right, because you're soo put together," he retorts sarcastically. You shrug, "Valentino seems to think so.". The TV demon tilts his head, "What do you mean?". "Valentino offered me a job today,". He lets out a bark of laughter at this, "Ohoh! You're flattered, I'm sure.". "Pft sure," you jokingly affirm, "it's every sinner's dream to work for Valentino.".

An alarm goes off on your phone. Setting down your champagne, you reach into your pocket and grab out your phone. The alarm displays the words: "CONFERENCE CALL 10 MINUTES" with a blaring siren. You snooze the alarm and look up at him, "You have a conference call in 10.". "Ah," he says flatly, his expression flattening as he sets down his drink. He unrolls his sleeves and slips his blazer back on, straightening it out with a firm tug, "I guess I have to take that.". Nodding goodbye, he sighs and exits the room. Part of you was kind of upset that he left. To your surprise, he was actually being friendly again. It's nice to have a friend at work, if you could even consider him a friend.

--

The following night, you get a full night's sleep for the first time in weeks, no longer bombarded with anxiety and an urge to get ahead in work. You walk into work, making your way over to your little office in the corner. Swinging the door open, you see a gift basket perched on your desk. 'Must be one of those tacky pre-made Vox-Tech ones' you think. However, the basket looked far different from the others. It's a brown woven basket adorned with a red bow. Upon closer inspection, you see various gifts that weren't in the usual package; A nice bottle of wine, some cheeses, and a card tucked into the ribbon. Grabbing the card, it reads,

"ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇ,

-v- ᴠᴏx

ᴘ.ꜱ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴠᴀʟ"

You chuckle as you read it, a smile involuntarily tugging at your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Vox peaking at you from behind a wall. Once you make eye contact, he darts away through a security camera. "And he says I'm creepy?" you mutter to yourself.

--

AHHHHH IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE!!!!! i hope ygs like it haha this sort of marks a turning point in their relationship. Not exactly romantic, but they're 100% getting along !!!!

TAG LIST:

@lovelyemily, @preppyfellaa, @diffidentphantom, @lil-glum, @leonotlara,

@matpatsstuff, @rapunzelbro, @n0tmentallystable, @thegrovesheart

@tommyjeffjeff, @user0715991108, @meowermeowing,

ʟᴍᴋ ɪꜰ ᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ

[gambleofstars]

Electrician Reader as Vox's Assistant (Pt. I)

₍ ⌨ ᶻᶻᶻ gambleofstars is typing ... ₎

↳ ❝ [a/n: I actually left an ask of this concept in another writer's blog in here anonymously but I felt enough energy to write it now, so if you see some similar posts, that's why] ¡! ❞

Pt. II

⋆♡*  When you arrived in hell, the first thing going through your mind was: man that hurt like a bitch. Dying from electric shock was not the way you wanted to go but eh, fuck it. Not like your life was going anywhere far.

⋆♡*  Great news though: you're immune to electricity related risks!

⋆♡*  Soon enough, you got the hang of how things were run down here and it wasn't that different from the overworld (isn't that just food for thought) and adapted. You weren't above scheming and using people on earth, so why would you hold back on it in hell? There was a reason you were here, after all.

⋆♡*  You did some random jobs: cleaner, courier, the whole nine yards to scrape some money together and move out of the shitty hostel - of which you tricked the owner of to let you stay.

⋆♡*  After that, it wasn't long until you got into your groove again with the exact thing that got you killed - Electrical work.

⋆♡*  At first, it was just fixing little things, like TVs and phones for much cheaper than their manufacturer would. You knew it would bite you in the ass sooner or later because the big companies in hell (much like on earth) don't play nice when it comes to their money.

⋆♡* And the day arrived one hellish morning when you were promptly dragged to the HQ of Voxtech with not even a coffee in your system.

⋆♡*  Didn't take too long until you got a job here. Not any job, mind you; you were now the personal assistant of the most annoying CEO ever - Vox.

⋆♡*  You're pretty sure the reason was the fact that when he got into his usual hissy fits, throwing around monitors and overcharging every corner of the room, you had no problems withstanding the voltage.

⋆♡*  This manchild will look you straight in the eyes and froth at the mouth of how he hates the radio at least 5 times a day- oh- oh wait....... Make that six now.

⋆♡*  (Of course you signed an NDA, don't be ridiculous)

⋆♡*  Every day fell into a routine. You were out of the house by 7:00, signing in at the front desk by 7:32, by the coffee machine by 7:45 and standing with a double shot espresso in front of Vox's office by 8:00 sharp.

⋆♡*  He didn't shy away to let you know he appreciated the punctuality and if you were late in the future it would be showing accordingly on your next paycheck.

⋆♡*  The other Vees find you amusing, if anything. Maybe because you don't get intimidated by your boss' tantrums and stand unfazed, with a, now fizzy, coffee after them

⋆♡*  Valentino will pick you up like a ragdoll with all his four limbs and use you as a meat shield when Vox wants to bite his head off because of another PR nightmare he will have to deal with.

⋆♡*  (Of course he asked you to perform in one of his... movies, but the only answer he got from you was a dead stare and a loud sip of your coffee) (He did want to tear you apart after that, but you were called to Vox's office)

⋆♡*  Velvette, on the other hand, uses you as her personal mannequin whenever you're on your lunch break. Standing wearing the latest fashion items while eating your sesame bagel is a normal occurrence at this point. Don't spill anything though, or she will ask Vox to add after hour work for you (she has done it before).

⋆♡*  She does enjoy having someone to listen to her yapping when Vox doesn't want to (or when he's having a monologue of his own) even unwillingly.

⋆♡*  Finally, in the after hours, when the otherwise empty office is only illuminated by only your computer, you'll go out on the balcony, in the windy night of the pride ring city, light a cigarette and close your eyes for a bit.

⋆♡*  Just for a second, this feels like home.

⋆♡*  Better than home.

hihi, first time writing here and hopefully not messing up haha 💋

signing off, gamble

[totothewolff]

Season of Love (8/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

The Color of Truth is Blue Arc Chapter 8: Safety car needed

Trigger warning: Child trauma, abuse.

Belgium

And to think Toto felt guilty enough about hiding from you his decision to get back with Susie and try to make things work with her, giving himself the hardest time for it while you had been married this whole time!

The two of you are truly made for each other since none of you have morals.

He wants to grab the helmet on the clear glass coffee table inside his remote office before him and smash it against it, but he contains himself. 

Instead, he stands up to pour himself a drink that's almost pure alcohol and just a bit of ice, frantically prancing around the room.

-

This GP is "hometown" for you guys. 

Mathew's assistant has zero problems fitting it into his busy schedule, so he can assist in your name.

It's not that you do much for the team, anyway. You are more like a figure to lift the morale and PR the team and its sponsors around. 

Mat looks excited to be at the paddock. He loves the attention he is getting. He remained as far from it as possible for obvious reasons, but now it seems like an excellent time to join in the fun. 

Mainly because he feels like it, and when he likes something, he has it.

Now that the real boss is in town, people need to get used to his presence and his long list of shenanigans.

Get a grip!

-

The weekend at Spa starts with the now-usual FIA meeting. On this occasion, everyone is on time. 

The group is gathered in the final rows of chairs in another world's saddest meeting room. As always, they are messing around while they wait for the meeting to begin.

—This carpeting looks out of a 70's Vegas casino —Seb mentions, looking around his feet.

—It's giving "cheap motel," —Charles adds.

—It's giving "crime scene" —Samanta joins in.

Toto and Fred enter the room, beverages in hand, gossiping. 

Woaff! Lewis notices that Toto looks rough. His hair is messy, and big dark circles are under his eyes. Also, he seems reddish on the cheeks. Is he drinking at work?! Lewis recognizes that kind of blush on him.

—It's giving "once someone died in here" —Checo jokes as he pictures a silhouette drawn with chalk while staring at the floor.

—It's giving "I think I saw this place in Law & Order" —Millie says.

—How many hours of L&O have you seen? —Mick changes the topic, knowing Millie is a fan.

—More than needed —she admits. 

—So you weren't joking when you said, "I go and put Law & Order on any device before a race as my race ritual"? —George looks at her, eyes widening and holding a giggle.

Sam interrupts as Millie is about to answer: —Elvis has arrived.

All their heads turn to the door as Matthew swags in.

—Armani ani ani ani —Millie sings Megan The Stallion style. —He looks so stylish in that suit! Hot!

—He is your boss, dude! —Oscar says and looks at her, chin up.

—And married to my wife! Who's also your boss. So more respect, please —Lando adds.

—Does that make you her father? —Sebastian jokes, pointing at the blonde.

—Are you Millie's dad?! —Lewis joins in, acting shocked.

—Dad?! —Millie turns in his chair to face Lando, wide eyes and arms reaching for a hug.

—You all stupid —Sam laughs, enjoying the exchange.

Mathew being the annoying ass he is, goes straight to her and drops in the chair next to Sam, placing his arm around her shoulders. —Amelia, hi! —Mat addresses her with a big-ass smile and stunning blue eyes staring at her.

—AMELIA?!! —everyone but Millie lets out in shock.

—How lovely to see you! —Sam greets him with a "fuck you!" gaze but answers with the sweetest voice.

—Yes, that's her middle name, you didn't know?! —Mat asks the group, pretending to be shocked, knowing she hates that name.

Then, the FIA deputy enters and asks Mathew to join him upfront since they are addressing the whole Lenkov situation and the new safety on paddock protocols with the drivers for the first time.

—Well, now that everything is clear, I will leave the microphone to Mr. De Vos to introduce himself...

—Yes, take off your shirt and tell us —Lando jokes in a low voice, next to Millie, discreetly bumping her and laughing low. 

Those fuckers.

-

Everyone looks bored as Fred goes forever after grabbing the mic to discuss the car skidding due to fluids and oil spills on the pitlane.

—No, you guys. I like this topic! I identify with it since I'm also fluid —Millie adds, all confident and open.

—Genderfluid? —Seb smiles big at her, eyes sparkling at her gutsy statement.

—I love the gender fluids —Lando jokes, with a cheeky innuendo as usual.

—I wouldn't mind some gender fluids instead of this, mate —Dani adds.

—I would have the gender fluids, please! —Mick jokes, pretending to raise his hand.

—I'm feeling my gender-fluids right now —Millie colorfully adds while looking at Mathew.

—What fluids is he talking about?! —George asks, serious, not recalling watching spots or brushes on the pitlane, unable to hear Fred accurately and utterly unaware of the jokes around.

—The genders —Seb and Millie answer simultaneously before bursting out laughing, watching a perplexed George. 

Everyone in the room turns their heads to them.

—Oh shit!

-

As soon as the doctors inform you that you can leave the hospital, your team moves you to the Manor, where Mathew insists you take a break and rest before putting a foot back on the paddock, much to your complaints.

He lets you know he will handle it while you are gone, and not enough "I'm fine!" on your part makes him change his mind.

Nothing good will come out of this with him there, you know that!

-

The press is desperate to get an interview out of Mathew, and the photographers already love him, a cloud of lens following him around.

With those looks, impeccable suit, and swag, who wouldn't want to snap his picture? 

But his security has him covered.

A new and hot Sky Sports reporter approaches him, and he lets her slide in, with a microphone in hand and a cameraman following her.

Mathew gives her an exclusive interview, instantly switching to his most charming, funny, and sweet persona. He shines under the lens, showing his big, bright smile with gorgeous teeth.

Mat reaches the reporter's ear when the interview finishes and the cameraman lowers the lens. —Tower Suite 1898 The Post, 7:00 p.m., don't be late. I'm fucking you in dark lingerie and ankle-strap black high heels.

She nods, all blushing, knees shaking at his invitation.

-

Okay, Toto can't resist it anymore. He promised he wouldn't do it, but he can't. It's driving him nuts.

He opens his iPad and smashes the keywords on the Google search bar, typing "Mathew De Vos."

A ton of links and information show up.

"Cambridge Faculty of Law Board Member, Masters in Corporate Law, PhD. in Law, former ONU ambassador, former Interpol Associate"

Toto closes those taps after reading them and moves to the next more frivolous ones.

"#4 on World's Richest Men, #2 Billionaires Under 30, #2 GQ's Stylish CEOs"

In all his status, Mathew appears married, and in most of his interviews, he always mentions his wife, you, which hurts him.

Okay, but what does Matthew do right now? Why buying an F1 team? There's nothing linking him or you to the sport. Could it be just for a hobby?

"Current investor and CEO of Little Heroes Global: Safeguarding Minors Around the Globe."

Okay, there's still no connection. Maybe it was just a good business deal? 

Toto keeps reading and then moves to trashier, gossipy sites.

Le Soir

Brussels, 2004.

Tragedy strikes De Vos family as helicopter crash kills parents, leaving 16-year-old son heir.

A devastating helicopter crash in the rolling hills of Belgium has claimed the lives of Victor and Lina De Vos, leaving their 16-year-old son, Mathew, the sole heir to their vast family fortune.

According to eyewitnesses, the De Vos family was on a routine flight from their estate in Wallonia to Brussels when the helicopter suddenly lost control and crashed in a nearby field. The accident occurred at approximately 10:45 a.m., with rescue teams arriving on the scene within minutes.

"It was a scene of utter devastation," said Alfred Van der Meer, a local farmer who witnessed the crash. "I saw the helicopter go down and then... grey clouds."

Victor De Vos, a wealthy businessman and billionaire, was 45 years old at the time of his death. His wife, Lina, was 42. 

The couple was known for their philanthropic efforts and various charitable organizations throughout Belgium.

Mathew De Vos, 16 years old at the time of the accident, is now the heir to his father's business empire and the family's Manor. The exact value of the estate is unknown, but insiders close to the family suggest that it could be worth hundreds of millions.

"We are still trying to come to terms with this tragedy," said Michel Droveb, his godfather, a family friend, and business associate. "But we are all relieved that Mathew is safe and will be able to carry on his parents' legacy."

As news of the tragedy spread, tributes poured in from around the world. "The De Vos family was a shining example of generosity and kindness," said King Leopold II of Belgium. "Their loss is a great blow to our nation."

Funeral services are scheduled for next week at the St. Michael's Cathedral in Antwerp.

In the meantime, Mathew De Vos has been taken under the wing of his family's trusted advisors and is expected to continue his parents' business endeavors.

As he begins his journey as one of the world's youngest billionaires, Mathew De Vos has vowed to honor his parents' memory by using his wealth to make a positive impact on the world.

"We will continue to give back to our community and support those in need," he said in a statement. "My parents would want nothing less."

The exact cause of the crash is still under investigation. 

Toto finishes reading the old entry on the news site, a bit pale and shocked. That may explain some of Mathew's attitude. 

He locks his iPad after indulging himself too much and thinks it's enough. Toto has more important things to do.

-

As soon as you are allowed to leave the bed, you go visit Mat's mom since you miss her very much. You walk there barefoot, feeling the cold wood and stone floors of the Manor all the way to the next wing.

She is peacefully lying in bed. The massive room is full of bright natural light, and a fresh and stunning bouquet of her favorite flowers is placed on the nightstand next to her, filling the room with a delicious scent.

You want to tell her all about your new life and the people you have met, and as you share everything about Toto with her, you get emotional and overwhelmed.

So when Mathew arrives there after searching for you, he finds you crying while holding her limp hand.

He comes closer and sits at the border of his mother's ICU hospital bed, placing himself between it and the armchair where you are sitting at. 

The room remains quiet, just the sounds of the life support pieces of equipment keeping his elderly mom alive, in a coma, but still.

He tenderly kisses her mother's temple before facing you, leaning his body in to wipe the tears sliding down your cheeks.

—Tell me what's hurting you to fix it? —compassion and care fill his eyes.

—This has no fix. Damage is done —you stare down at your hands before adding: —But going out to dinner can help me feel better.

He nods. —I know the place.

-

Sam joins you for breakfast at the Manor the following morning, where you tell her every detail about the plan, now being able to, and how it went.

—Then Pascal played one for the team again! —she says before grabbing a portion of her pancakes.

—I'm worried about him. I hope he is safe and well. —you express with deep concern, much to Mathew's dislike.

—Oh, he is. He let me know days ago —Mat says in the most nonchalant, neutral voice while picking his fruits.

—What?! Why didn't you tell me?! I've been worrying all these past days! —now you sound exasperated at him.

A "here we go!" face sets on Sam.

—You needed to rest! No further point! —Mat continues, still not caring, as if nothing was wrong.

—Stop telling me what I need! —you raise your voice at him, now you are mad!

He looks up and stares at you with an icy look but doesn't reply; he continues having breakfast as if nothing is happening.

One day, you will lose it with Mathew's controlling and psycho moves. 

You regain your composure and add: —This can't keep happening! I need to know the things that involve me right at the moment!

—Understood —it's all he says.

—And what about Lenkov? Any whereabouts? —Sam says, pushing topics, used to witnessing you fight.

-

You text Seb to let him know you are at the Manor now.

—I'm glad! But where's that?! Do you own a manor? It doesn't sound much like your style! Ah, and thanks for answering back!

—Sorry for the delay in replies! I was resting. Shit! I forgot you don't know about it. Let me ask Mat if you can pop by. He is very particular about who is allowed here.

—No worries! I can ask him myself. I'm watching him right here.

Seb puts his phone inside his red tracksuit pocket, scooters down the pitlane to Mat beside Michael, and chats casually with the men in German before asking him the question.

—Wait, Seb! 

Seb doesn't read your text. Seb takes Mathew entirely by surprise. 

Mathew allows him to visit you, sensing Vettel is kind and has some guts to reach him.

-

When you return to the Manor, feeling tipsy after drinking a lot in that sports bar where you watched the race in secret.

Your heart sank every time Toto appeared on screen, looking as handsome as ever but without acting playful in front of the camera.

Sebastian is already in the old drawing room, waiting for you and chatting with Mat in a friendly way, which is rare. Damn, time flew by!

—And there she is! Hello, drunk! —Seb greets you as soon as you enter the room.

Mathew sends you a cold look, which you defiantly ignore.

—Bee guy! —you reach Seb and give him a warm hug. —Podium, heh!

—I know! Third place! Not that bad for this old man?! Tell Millie to leave me to win sometime, one win this season, pretty please! —Seb smiles big at you.

—No way, Jose! I'm sorry for making you wait with this one! —you point to Mat with your thumb.

—Alcohol produces brain damage, and you need cold water and food! I see you two at the dining table.

Mat exits the room, annoyed; he hates alcohol, cigars, drugs, sugar, and everything that's unhealthy for the body.

—Does he always swags all moody like that? —Seb asks, following him with his eyes, raising his eyebrows.

—Oh yeah —you let out a giggle.

You love Vettel.

-

—And those are your parents, right? —Seb asks, observing the massive regal oil painting of a family of three hanging on the wall by the exquisite wooden crafted stairs before sensing the atmosphere changing.

He got offered a tour of the Manor.

—Yes —Mat answers solemnly, you two standing near Seb while he leans to peek. All alcohol is out of your system by this point.

—Do the eyes follow you around as you walk past? —Vettel jokes in the most Sebastian way possible.

A smile forms on Mathew's lips. —It sometimes shakes too. You know when father disapprovals! —he pats Seb a bit too hard on the back.

—It's a bit too much, isn't it? —you join in. Shruging your nose, looking at the old painting.

—Yeah —both men agree, letting out in unison.

—You were such a cute kid. What happened?! —Seb teases Mat.

—Life, life happened to me —he answers, more honest than joking, oblivious to Seb, clear to you.

Why is Mat acting open and friendly with him?

-

—Ta-dah! This is my room! —you invite Seb to hang out in a more private space, taking him to the last spot of the tour.

Mathew had already left to the wing of the Manor that is his. He always hides in there; sometimes, you even forget he exists or that you were supposed to live with him.

—So this is where you grew up? —Seb is curious and naturally funny, so he is already playfully peeking into your drawers, looking at the Polaroids on the wall, and checking the decor. —Oh wow, baby Sam!

He points to a picture where "kid Sam" and a younger Alexi, Mat, and you appear.

—Yeah, that's about when I arrived here, and no, I didn't grow up here —you shake your head several times. —I wish!

Now, Seb is confused. Mat just told him you two lived together "since you were kids." —Then, where?

—Here, take a sit —you invite him to hang on the sofa in front of the big stony fireplace as it lights the huge room. The night is fully set, and the air in the countryside is cold. —Bare along...

-

This story is not a happy one.

You will never forget that big old mansion in the woods where you grew up. Your oldest memories start there at age four.

You had no idea who your mom was; you had never met her, only your nanny, who cared for you and your baby sister, a cute five-month-old girl, a chubby, healthy baby with pink cheeks. 

You loved holding her; she always wrapped her fingers around your thumb and tried to get your long, shiny hair into her mouth, which made you giggle.

You let her play with your teddy bear; she is the only one allowed to grab "bon-bon." 

You love wrapping big bowties around its plushie neck, and your papa occasionally gifts you colorful and shiny ribbons.

-

Every day, you take lessons with a rigorous and cruel governess who teaches you manners and scolds you when you do things wrong, calling you an animal and a brute whenever she loses her patience with you.

You don't like how she treats you, but you don't notice anything wrong with it. It feels ordinary to you.

-

The following day, your nanny wakes you up early and tells you they have important guests coming over, and you must look pretty to welcome them. 

She combs your hair roughly and, in a rush, pulls it into a tight bun as instructed while you are on your feet on top of the makeup chair. 

She puts you into a puffy chiffon dress and starts applying you makeup, which you love. You like all those things: hairstyles, dresses, makeup, nails, glitter, and sparks. 

When you see yourself in the mirror, you look like a doll that belongs on a shelf as you stick your tongue out and make silly faces at your reflection.

She then takes you downstairs to your favorite room of the large house. The playroom is colorful and has many toys to play with; it's a shame you always play alone.

You go inside and grab a couple of plushies and a plastic tea set when you notice several stern and tall men watching you. 

You feel a little bit shy under their stares; among them is a man who looks intensely at you. 

He is a tall, silver-haired, muscular man with captivating eyes and a dangerous smirk that could charm the devil himself.

Standing next to him are gunmen and two large menacing dogs guarding him. 

Another group of gentlemen join him before they all enter your dad's office, a forbidden ground for you.

-

After a while, everyone exits the house's entrance door and leaves, but the silver-haired man stays longer. 

You have seen him before; he is your daddy's boss.

Sometimes, they have meetings, and whenever he is at the house, they get you all cute-looking and rushed downstairs.

He always asks for you and handles you expensive gifts every visit.

You get distracted by him bringing you cake; all you want is a slice. The merengue looks delicious and smells like vanilla.

Your dad and the man come closer to you. He greets you brusquely, caressing your cheek.

Now that you are near him, you look terrified at the two scary Dobermans monitoring your every move.

—They don't bite unless I command them to —He looks at the muscular animals. —So be a nice girl —he jokes with you. 

You reach closer to your dad's leg, trying to hide behind it, but he neither pats nor reassures you.

—Status on her training? —the silver-haired man asks.

—She is about to start it, sir.

—When it gets done, send her to me —he instructs with an authoritarian voice but nonchalant. 

He brushes his hand on your hair before he heads out of the big, beautiful wooden entrance door.

-

As the days go by, you start to spend more and more time studying with your governess.

That cruel woman seems to be under such stress of quickly teaching you many things, so she behaves even more viciously. 

Your German, French, and English lessons feel too much for your little brain. No six-year-old should feel this pressure on herself; all you want to do is play. 

You get moody and start to cry, not being able to take it more; you are tired!

Suddenly, you feel a painful sting on your cheek; your dad slapped you hard for whining. —Stop crying, behave! —He commands you.

And you do so.

-

You are in the staff's kitchen, sitting on a high barstool, legs swinging in the air, while the cook prepares the meal. 

You ask her to make you a sandwich, but she tells you you are no longer allowed bread or carbs. 

That kitchen leads outdoors to the massive gardens by a backdoor; it's a vast property. 

Another prominent building sits right across the field, in the distance, behind some bushes and trees.

You are not allowed out, and you are not allowed to go near there. 

But you are a curious and strong-willed girl, after all. 

You peek through the window and see two little boys and girls walking from room to room inside the other property. You want to go and play with them, as you are always among grown-ups.

The cook follows your gaze and rushes you out of the kitchen and back to the living area.

-

It's late at night, and you wake up to the sound of your stomach growling. 

The house is so quiet, as everyone is sleeping, and it's the perfect moment for you to sneak to get ice cream. 

You risk going to the kitchen after your curfew because you feel hungry from the small portions they have given you lately. 

For some reason, they have been measuring and weighing you daily.

You navigate the large house's hallways, avoiding making a sound. Your steps softly creak on the wooden floors unnoticed, which is why you are barefoot, which is also not allowed.

You finally make it to the kitchen and, on your tiptoes, take the big bucket of ice cream out of the freezer and to the countertop. 

You are short for your age, which makes you look younger and even more adorable. You are such a cute, tiny girl.

You hop on the stool and eat the chocolate ice cream straight from the bucket with a big spoon, licking it; chocolate goes all over your collar and lips.

If the governess saw you doing this, she would lock you in the closet. She had done it before and made you spend an entire night there for disobedience. 

You cried hard for your dad. That place was cold and dark, but he never showed up.

You catch movement with the corners of your eyes outside the large window into the garden's bushes, the same window from which you peeked out earlier.

A small shadow moves quickly, and you get a bit scared, but curiosity makes you reach closer to the window's glass, your nose almost touching it. It feels cold, it must be freezing outside.

You catch a small girl hiding in the bushes and dropping to the dirt quickly as she notices you. 

The door to the outside is just steps away. What if you go help her? She looks distressed and must be cold! 

You know you are not allowed to, yet you go. 

You expect the door to be locked, but you open it easily.

You hear a soft beep as you set foot outside on the deck. Then the alarm goes off, and the motion detection lights turn on; they are so strong they blind you. 

You watch the little girl run to the forest as fast as she can. You try to go after her when you feel a firm grip pulling you from the hair and throwing you back into the kitchen. 

You hit the floor hard, sliding in.

You see a pair of black combat boots about to kick you in the stomach when your dad's voice screams very loud. 

—Don't get her scratch! She's valuable! —the man immediately stops mid-kick with a yes, sir.

You watch the other guards drag violently the little girl back inside the other building. 

You barely hear her indistinct screams in the distance. As you lose sight of her, you think she is begging for her mother, and then the door gets violently slammed close in front of you and locked down this time.

-

You don't understand what is happening but remember feeling freaked out that day. 

You then recall how scared you used to feel every single day back in those times.

-

They leave you for two days inside that dark closet with no food and no water as punishment.

-

The following month, the governess tells you she has finished her job with you but informs you that your training is set to start. 

You don't get what she means by "training."

Then, she leaves the study room and returns with a boy about two years older than you. 

You quickly get happy to see someone close to your age and not another adult. You have been raised among them.

The boy looks rigid and lost in the eye as he approaches you. 

When he is standing before you, he pulls you closer and kisses you on the mouth. You giggle at the sensation. It feels funny!

But you see nothing wrong with this, you like the contact since you have never been held like that.

These lessons last for several weeks. They get weirder and more touch-y each time. 

-

When winter arrives, it starts to snow outside. You are cozy sleeping in bed, hugging your teddy plushie under your warm blanket. 

The fireplace creeks and heats the room when you hear heavy footsteps outside your bedroom door before it opens.

A big, bulky guy picks you up from the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, waking you up. He carries you down the hallway, heading with you down the stairs.

There, you see your dad, for the last time, on your way to the SUV with tinted black windows parked right outside the front door. 

-

It turns out that man wasn't your father, nor was this your actual home.

-

You remember feeling increasingly nervous as the car gets further away from the property. All you think about is Bon-bon and the baby. 

You cry.

- 

You are sent to the Serbian ring, where your price is high for obvious reasons. You overhear the man who takes you there sound delighted at how high your bid went. 

You don't understand a thing.

-

Two days later, they fly you to a high-end hotel bungalow in Bali, where an older man expects you. 

They make him read some papers with terms and things he is suggested not to do to you since this type of man doesn't like the phrase "not allowed to," and he agrees. 

The chaperone then closes the room door behind you, leaving you alone with him.

You don't know what to do next, so you watch him remove his tie and shoes as he points you to the bed. 

As an obedient and collected girl, you get in there. 

-

This man paid in advance for an entire year of your services and exclusivity, which is an enormous amount of money. 

They make you meet with him always in different countries and locations until he gets bored of your body and moves to the next younger new girl.

After that, they return you to the market, and you visit the ring again, this time in Turkey. 

-

You were supposed to live in several security houses when you weren't traveling around the globe to meet your owners, which never happened to you. 

They rotate them constantly, and cameras and microphones are everywhere, so the other girls and boys cannot interact. 

It doesn't matter much anyway. 

-

With time, you learn that the more money you make them, the better things go for you. 

Soon, you discover you are one of the privileged ones since Lenkov, the silver-haired man from childhood, is infatuated with you and asks for you whenever he wants you. 

He is a scum.

—If you weren't so good for my business, I do have you living here with me full time like one of my dolls —the fit older man tells you while inhaling coke from the tits of a busty teenager. 

While another underage girl like you sits in his lap wearing a tiny bikini, five of them are in there fighting for his attention and petting him all around at his open-floor mansion by the sea in Punta Cana, where he currently lives. You are the youngest one in there.

Lenkov has many places and doesn't stay in one longer, and the girls he likes for his sick enjoyment only get to follow him all around.

It's a better type of prison to be at; you get to learn, and it's way better than getting bid off in the rings.

At least with him, you know what to expect.

-

Lenkov hosts one of his infamous parties as a goodbye to Punta Cana, which is full of powerful and corrupt guests. 

Drugs, alcohol, and a bunch of underage girls and boys are there at their disposition and for everyone's enjoyment, all if they pay, of course! 

Bricks of money and bags full of rolls are on several surfaces.

After your previous owner passed away in a very sketchy way, you are pretty sure he got himself poisoned.  

Lenkov ordered that they broght you so he can enjoy your body during the weekend and for your attendance at the party since a couple of Arab princes and some Serbian moguls will be there, and he wants you to work your way with them.

-

A very stoic, tall, and older man in an expensive suit sits, legs crossed, in the expensive armchair next to Lenkov. 

He looks you up from afar, his eyes traveling every inch of your skin. 

You know how to read a room by this point in your life. So you get closer and slowly twirl for him.

—She —he turns to tell the silver-haired man, looking at you, and Lenkov nods, allowing it.

There he was, your new owner. 

God, you hated that word. You weren't a thing to be own; you were a person, even if they didn't treat you like one.

-

When your chaperone opens the door to a massive suite in Dubai, you are surprised to be greeted by a tall, gorgeous, muscular man with piercing blue eyes, dark, wavy hair, and great skin. 

He is big and athletic. You would find him extremely attractive if he wasn't this sick person. 

After being with many 50-plus-year-olds, a 33-year-old feels young enough for you. Even if he is not, you are only 14 by this point. 

Well, you have been told you are. 

Since you don't own a passport or credentials, you don't know exactly who you are, how old you are, where you come from, or anything about yourself.

He agrees to the terms presented to him, and then, as usual, you are left alone with him. 

Either they go all over you immediately, asking you to take your clothes off in an instant or foreplay a bit before demanding you to go straight to the bed.

But none of the listed happens this time. 

He returns to his laptop, where he seems busy working. Of course, he didn't forget about you. He was totally ignoring you. 

It's always tricky with these guys! They are often arrogant, violent, controlling, or power-obsessed and challenging to read or act around. 

But, unfortunately for you, you have enough experience dealing with all those types. 

So you take off your dress, revealing your tiniest lingerie, and against your will, as usual, approach him, showing off your body. 

You get into his lap, placing yourself on his crotch. 

You don't want problems, and you know what happens to girls who get a "bad review" to say it like that.

He stops reading what's on his screen, getting distracted by you, then turns to grab his jacket and offers it to you. —No need for any of that —he tells you. 

And you put his coat on. 

It looks so big on you, covering your whole body. You move to sit on the sofa near him. 

Dead silence. 

He couldn't care less about you.

—Sir, I'm all okay? Is there a way I can pleasure you? If I'm doing something wrong, please let me make it up to you —you freak out as you notice the time of your session is running out; you don't want trouble.

—I didn't hire you —he says, still typing and looking busy. That takes you off guard. He looks straight at you with those fierce blue eyes, frowning.

—Pardon?

—My sick father gave you to me as a "forgive me" present —he lets out with disdain. —I don't get how he is okay with this stuff. I'm not too fond of paid girls or STDS. I'm not into the young ones.

—I'm very clean, I get tested all the ti-

—So, how does this shit work? —he interrupts you, not caring about what you are saying. —I read on paper that a titanium package was paid. Even the name sounds absurd!

You look at him collected, avoiding saying a dumb thing, being extremely careful with each word.

—It means I'm exclusive to your enjoyment, and you have me ten sessions before acquiring the package again if I please you, that I promise I-

—I see —he again interrupts your rehearsed speech.

You hear soft knocks in code on the door. It means Fran, your chaperone, of course you know that isn't his real name, is waiting for you.

You get your dress back on, and he walks you to the door.

Before reaching it, he suddenly pushes you into a rough and intense kiss, messing your hair and fucking your lipstick, biting open your lip, and, in a powerful movement, tearing your dress a little bit, taking you by surprise.

Fran opens the door at your lack of response and quickly apologizes, witnessing some of the action. —I didn't mean to interrupt, sir.

—No worries, I'm done with her —he says deadpan, pushing you out with a big slap in the ass.

-

This goes on for the subsequent sessions. 

He doesn't touch you more than what is required to pretend you two did the thing. He is clever at keeping appearances.

-

—So, as long as I have you under my power, I can take my time to have our "sessions," right?

—Yes, sir, but not that much.

—Good, that gains us little time.

He asks you one night while looking out of the panoramic windows, sipping his coñac. 

Damn, he is muscular and hot.

—Feel free to use the suite amenities. You are not allowed out of the room, correct?

—Oh no, I'm not —you confirm quickly, not wanting to get in serious trouble. Guards parol you, so there's no way you could get out even if you tried.

-

He renews his package with you without touching or disrespecting you in any way. 

Every time you meet him, you expect him to ask you to return the favor. Your life experiences have made you wary and distrustful.

But he doesn't.

-

—Yes?! —he looks your way. You have been staring at him for five minutes. He is not the most tender-speaking person.

—I'm sorry, I wasn't, I-

—It's alright, you can talk.

—No worries, you seem busy.

—Go straight to the point or remain shut up —he dislikes wasting time.

—Why are you doing this? —you venture to ask. —I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I'm more than thankful to you, sir.

—Don't call me sir; it makes me feel dirty —he drops himself on the sofa beside you, giving himself time off from work, stretching. —I get what you are going through. I'm in a prison of my own, too.

You remain quiet a little bit, pensive to open your mouth, knowing you can trust no bitch, but this feels different. So you trust your gut. —What do you mean?

—My father got my family, me included... —he stands to pour himself another glass of coñac and offers you one. You aren't allowed to drink unless they offer you, so you accept it. —...dragged into his illicit business, sadly, we have no way out now.

—I think I met him once from afar. No disrespect, but he seems harsh.

—You can disrespect him all you want. I hate my father; he is a scumbag, he got my brother locked up and murdered in jail, and my mother is also dead, thanks to him. So now it's just us.

Silence.

—Are you in any danger? —you ask, honestly concerned.

—Worried about your situation?

—No si- shit! —you quickly correct yourself. —Sorry, what do I call you?

—Pascal, that's my real name, by the way. As you can see, I don't care much, and yes! I'm always in danger, not imminent, but still, it's a dangerous game I'm playing.

—You are kind to me, that's why I asked. I don't know my real name, so I have no name you can call me.

—I can think of a couple of ones —he makes an innuendo, and by your shocked expression, he quickly adds. —I'm joking! I'm kidding!

You laugh for the first time in God knows how long.

Knocks come on the door.

-

That goes on until Lenkov becomes possessive of you and warns him that this is the last time Pascal is allowed to acquire your package, and he won't steal you away from him.

—I'm not planning to do so, Lenkov, it's just that pussy is so good, and I don't know how to quit it —he lies.

Lenkov smiles at him with an "I get it" expression before asking him for an obscene amount of money.

Pascal agrees to it, but only if he is allowed to have you for more time, for an entire year.

—A million, and it's a deal.

—But if she stays with me in London...

—She will be not allowed out of the apartment, I will place snipers, and if you try to trick me, I will slight her throat in front of you and then yours. A million and a half, and it's done.

Pascal pays for it.

-

He welcomes you to your new home with a glass of champagne.

—To the birthday girl.

—What?!

—Today is your birthday. According to your birth certificate, here, it's your gift.

—Is this real?! —tears fill your eyes. He nods, and then Pascal looks taken aback when you give him the warmest hug he has ever received. 

He doesn't know what to do until he relaxes and hugs you back.

—I could sleep with you right now! —you say, and you quickly add by the shocked expression he gives you. —I'm joking! I'm kidding. Ah! I'm one year older than I thought! But how did you get this?!

—I have something to confess to you, and it's the reason why I moved you here with me —he sounds serious and looks stern; he hesitates before continuing. 

You start thinking about the worst possible outcome. Here comes the part that goes bad for you. 

—A few months ago, I made contact with Interpol.

—Oh, please, I'm, look, I, I rather not —you mumble and start to panic, fearing for your life.

—I see. I may die after this —Pascal lets out.

—You what?! —you panic.

—It doesn't matter. Yeah, it's better you stay out of it.

—If it threatens your life, then I'm in! —you sound so assured that he looks shocked.

—Why would you...? —he starts asking.

You jump in. —Risk my life for yours? Anyday! You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me —Pascal looks at you with an expression you cannot read.

—This guy I got in contact with has been pursuing Lenkov for some time and plotting his downfall.

—This guy?! Wasn't the Interpol?!

—Well, yes, he used to work for them...

—Oh god, how are you sure he is not setting you up and wh- —you panic again.

He calms you down and quickly explains. —He is the most annoying guy ever, but it's legit. He started his own organization and has the best of the best working for him, and that's why he moved the Lenkov case with him and left Interpol to work it on his own; it's personal to him.

—Have you met with him?

—Just on the phone, many, many times.

—I don't like this.

—I promise you he is legit and has resources. He was the one who got me your birth certificate. All he is asking from us in return is to act as a witness in case all goes well and we get Lenkov on trial.

—And what's in this for you? I'm sorry for judging you, but my life has taught me some lessons. You aren't in this just because you want my freedom, right?

—To whistleblow my father and expose his business with Lenkov, and make them both rot in prison.

—You are going to get us murdered!

Pascal starts worrying about you bailing out, judging your fear and panic.

He is getting ready to start working you out when you suddenly calm down.

—But what do I have to lose? This is no life, and if I can help to protect you, other girls, and boys and gain my freedom along the way, I will.

- 

Lenkov sends people to check on you two occasionally without previous notice, trying to catch in any weird move and have an excuse to move you back with him.

It comes to his attention that according to the people he sends there, they never seem to interrupt you in sexual activities, enraging him.

-

You are cozy on the couch watching TV when Pascal's deep voice grabs your attention.

—Listen, whenever someone from my "dad's business," aka my job, comes here, or we aren't alone, no matter if it's the help service, I need you to play along and pretend we are in a sexual relationship. We need to keep appearances and have the word spread. 

—Why? —you start feeling concerned. —Did something happen?

—Don't stress about it —he dismisses it. —Just so you know.

-

—Y/N, you are right. You are not being paranoid —you have been feeling observed by people looking from the building across for some days now. —Probably Lenkov moved some people to one of the apartments in front. They are watching us now.

Pascal pretends to enjoy a drink while looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows to the skyscraper in front of yours. 

—Moving out is no option for us —you add, feeling nauseous. Months have passed since you started living peacefully with Pascal at this place you now call home.

—We need to engage more, then —he sounds grim.

—If we close the curtains but keep the lights on, maybe we could dry hump for them. Silhouettes may work.

—Have the men you have been with ever cared enough to close the curtains? 

—No. I get it. It's going to look staged. They won't go away till they make sure.

He lets an exasperated sigh and smashes his glass on the floor.

You instinctively jump. —Listen, I have done it before, we could... —you go all red.

—No.

-

After several days of noticing him consumed by the situation's stress, you cross the distance between you and gift him your first kiss. 

Obviously, it's not your first physical kiss, but the first one that feels real.

You kiss him all the way to the bedroom. 

Where Pascal makes love to you in a missionary position, all flesh in full display and bodies moving in rhythm for them to witness. 

After you cowgirl him, he takes you in doggy style till you cum from pleasure for the first time ever while moaning his name.

You completely forget that you were doing it for the men watching you at a distance, secretly shooting photos without you noticing before they have them printed and delivered to Lenkov.

-

There is a slight shift after that night. 

The interactions between you two become more tender; there are more accidental touches and sweet looks, along with some cuddling, but nothing sexual ever happens again after the Lenkov people leave you alone.

Not even a kiss.

-

Three months later, as you grow impatient every day since you know your year agreement is near its end, Pascal informs you that this guy wants to implement the plan.

Next week, a massive raid on the Lenkov rabbit holes, properties, and security homes will occur. People are going to get arrested and youngsters rescued. You are on the list.

The difference with you is that you will immediately be moved to Belgium to the Little Heroes Global headquarters to testify and for them to prepare you for court.

-

It's a Wednesday morning, the first time you talk to this guy on the phone. 

He sounds young, but his tone is too solemn. He informs you that Pascal was the critical piece he needed to deploy his long, elaborate plan; he and his team have spent years trying to get Lenkov.

Now that you have all the knowledge and information he needs to take him down, it is all good to go.

It's the first of many calls you two exchange, and you eventually become incredibly familiar with his voice.

-

The day that "Operation Lina" arrives, you are so nervous. 

Everything is going according to the plan. 

But then, as a lot of commotion happens outside your apartment door, Pascal bolts to his feet and places you behind his body, protecting you.

A SWAT team bursts in, knocking the door down. Pascal looks at you, confused at the violence, but you see him smile for the first time in all the time you have met him. 

—That's the sound of your freedom —he addresses you, briefly resting his temple on yours. You want so desperately to kiss his lips.

Then the SWAT team moves quick on their feet, guns up to approach you, or that you think so.

Unexpectedly, they pinned Pascal in a violent move against the floor. He hits his head hard in the process.

—What are you doing!? —you start screaming and kicking as they push you out of the way. You go insane as they keep dragging him away from you. —LEAVE HIM YOU FUCKERS! You are hurting him! This wasn't part of the plan!

They yank him down the apartment entrance hallway, and you fight your way to follow along, demanding to know where they are taking him, screaming and kicking.

—PASCAL! —You are desperately calling for him at the top of your lungs. 

When you feel a hand softly rub you on your shoulder, you turn around, expecting the worst, to see Lenkov standing there, so you violently remove the hand from you and, with all your force, push the guy against the hallway wall.

—Easy! Easy! —that familiar voice tells you. —He is going to be okay, I will make sure —a kid slightly older than you is standing before you, his beautiful blue eyes are set on you.

—Are you!? —you let out in barely a whisper. You can't believe your eyes; he can't be that young!

—Yes —he starts fixing himself. —You are strong. Mathew De Vos —he offers you his hand.

—Why the fuck are you betraying him like that?! —you start immediately fighting with him, which, funny enough, becomes a habit for you two.

—I'm not! Listen, in one of the raids inside of one of Lenkov's drawers at his office desk, there were photos of you and Pascal, you know, explicitly engaging in some illegal acts.

—But that's not! He didn't ra-! I consent to it, AND it was just because Lenvok people were watching us ove-

—I believe you. I'm not happy to lose one of my biggest witnesses, but it's still a crime. Due to cooperation, we can offer him a good deal, so Pascal will be alright, I promise you.

—How do I know I can trust you?!

—I'm here, as I promised I will. Let's go. The quicker we get this done, the faster you will win back your freedom!

-

Days later, Mat informs you he moved his influences to get a particular trial for Pascal and that he ended up with just domestic arrest in Budapest, ankle monitor and all.

But that you won't be able to see him, probably ever again. You are only allowed to talk to him on the phone.

-

Lenkov corrupts his way out of the situation. To both your fury, you have never seen a man so furious as Mathew that day; you almost felt like running away from him as soon as possible, but this unexpected outcome forces you into a witness protection program.

Mathew offers you a place to stay until things get sorted out, a stay that will last for years to come.

-

—The obvious aside, duh, why did Mathew want to take Lenkov down? —Seb asks, his voice husky. 

It's cold and late at night, around 5 a.m., and by this point of the story, you are already wrapped around Seb's arms, sharing the soft blanket on the couch as he plays nervously with your golden bracelet. 

Seb has remained empathic and supportive, listening to your life story.

—Mat got scarred by that same man. Victor, Mat's father, was just solidifying "Heroes Global" after building it to protect minors, legally advise victims and their families, and help intelligence agencies dismantle traffic rings when he was the first person to discover the real business behind Lenkov's legal facades—you explain. Seb's eyebrows go to the roof, and his eyes look sad.

—As Mat was dealing with becoming an orphan, his team found out the helicopter crash that killed his parents, well, his dad mostly, wasn't an accident. Mathew's mom has been in a coma for years with no hope of recovering, but she is still with us, thank God. 

—Are you a believer?

—Yes. God sent Mat to me. He means the world to me, Seb. He really does, even with all that implies. It's the only family I have. Even in our worst moments, I have never not loved him. He gave me a chance and a better life than I had ever imagined.

—It's good to know —Mat's voice takes you both by surprise, making you un-cuddle and turn to him. He walks inside the room before standing before you, hands inside his soft pajama bottoms, shirtless.

—Where did those abs come from, ancient Greece? —Seb can't help but peek as he jokes. He looks good.

As soon as I found out Lenkov did it and what he really was, I took the basis of Heroes Global and founded Little Heroes Global, working with Interpol. Did you know, Sebastian Vettel, that this girl right here is the foundation's vice president? he asks in the voice of a quiz host while pointing at you.

—I begged Mat to let me stay and work with them as soon as I was freed, I wanted to help others, but I was an illegal here in Belgium, with no papers and in need of a citizen permit and a passport.

—Also under age —Matt adds. So, I wasn't able to marry her to fix all of that thing at once, but as soon as we could, we did, I stayed true to my word of taking care of her.

—It wasn't a romantic or traditional wedding —you explain.

—Just transactional, sign here, sign this, sign there —Mat adds.

—Do you ever?

—Yes —you both answer at the same time.

Dead silence.

—But you two need to go to bed, to sleep, I mean. On another occasion, Y/N may tell you all about us; I prefer my version, though. Feel free to stay over Vettel. Just respect my roof —he winks before leaving, implying to be discreet with sex if there is to be. 

Sebastian goes all red. To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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[hotpinkstars]

hello hello! for the reqs, how about helping kafka get ready for one of those fancier missions? just some sweet intimacy (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

FANCY! - kafka x reader

- helping kafka get ready for a more fancy mission.

- I LOVE TJIS GN. i'm so crazy about kafka i need her to have a rerun rn!!!!! anywayssss this request is so fluffy i love it sm. thank u anon, and enjoy!!

- slight mentions of murder and theft, besides that pure fluff. wc 970

It was, once again, time for Kafka to leave off for a mission.

You’ve gotten used to this schedule, but you got to keep her a little later today. She didn’t have to be at the banquet hall until 9:00 at night, giving you two the whole day. When the clock hit around 8:00, she hurried into your shared room to put on her dress of choice. 

It was a plum colored dress, very similar to her hair. Instead of the updo her hair was usually in, she decided to leave it down, but she wanted help styling it while she did her makeup.

“Dearest, would you come here?” She called, your footsteps taking you from the other room into the bedroom.

“Yeah? What's up?” You asked, tossing your phone onto the plush bed before standing behind her. “That dress is gorgeous. Suits you well.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I just need help styling my hair for tonight. I don’t know if it should be flat-ironed or curled.”

You hummed, going into the bathroom to grab some supplies. You grabbed both the curling iron and the flat iron, taking some heat protectant so her luscious hair doesn’t fry. 

“How does flat ironing sound? I think it’ll look nice with the dress style. Pair it with some gold eyeshadow and gold jewelry, too,” you stated, running your hands through her hair, applying heat protectant.

She nodded, applying a light coat of foundation while keeping her eye on the time. “Straightening it sounds fine. I barely do it, anyways.”

So you got to work, taking fine care of each strand and going over them a couple times to make the look perfect. She was applying makeup, occasionally chatting with you about little things, or joking about her look. 

You were going over her hair a second time, making sure that all ends and pieces were not missed. 

“So, what's this mission even about anyways? Or is it top-secret?” You smiled, lightly prying. “I won’t tell a soul about it, I swear on my whole life.”

She giggled, looking at you through the mirror. “Jail worthy, as usual. But I won’t get caught. It’s to steal a jewel that Elio needs and wrote in the script. I know exactly how to be successful.”

You nodded. “As long as you don’t kill too many people… but anyways, who’s going with you this time? This seems too nice to have Silver Wolf assist you. Is it solo, or is Blade going with you?”

“Just Bladie. He’s going to be there for a distraction, anyways. I’ll throw him in the middle so everyone will pay attention to him,” she joked, pulling a laugh from you. “But, in all seriousness, he’s necessary to complete the job.”

You were still paying attention to her hair, careful not to leave any strand under the heat for too long. 

“Which gold would look better? The one from this pallet, or this one?” She held out two pallets, one with a more glittery gold, and one that’s a lighter, more toned down version that doesn’t have all of the sparkles. You took another look at her dress before picking which one would look the nicest. 

She nodded, applying the shade of choice. You liked times like this- times where you both could be with each other without conflict waiting to arise, times where she’s not trying to keep away from bounty hunters, and times where there's no tension or anxiety coursing through her veins. This was a moment of peace, where you could both drop your worries and relax for even just a few minutes (in this case, a system hour). 

“Finished! How do you like your hair?” You stepped back, shutting the flat iron off and unplugging it from the side of the wall. She ran her hands through the strands, nodding in approval before smiling at herself through the mirror. 

“It looks nice. It goes well with the dress style. Good call.”

You smiled, happy that she likes the look. You put everything back, allowing her to finish up her makeup. 

When you re-entered the room, you pulled out a couple pairs of high heels for her to pick from. There were varieties of colors- white, nude, silver, gold, black, you name it. She stood up, looking over the selection.

“If you’re going to wear gold jewelry, and you have gold eye makeup on, wear the gold pair of heels. Trust me, it will balance out everything just perfectly!” You advised. You sounded so passionate, leaving a gentle smile painted on the stellaron hunters face. She picked the heels up and put them on, spinning around in the mirror to make sure they fit nicely and feel good to walk in. 

You took some jewelry out of the jewelry box, presenting her with a couple of nice gold necklaces and rings, topped off with a pair of pretty earrings that match the same theme. She chose one of the necklaces and two rings, sliding the rings on and having you put the necklace on. She put the earrings on before toying with her hair, throwing it over her shoulders to hang off her head, spilling onto her back. 

“You’re beautiful, Kafka,” you mumbled, in slight awe of how gorgeous she looked right now. She giggled. “Thank you, dear. I wish you could come with, but it’s too dangerous. I wouldn’t want to risk you being kidnapped, hurt, or killed.”

You nodded, sitting down on the bed. The time hit 8:45, and she walked over to you.

“I better head out now, but I should be back by tomorrow morning,” She said, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kafka,” you replied, giving her a long kiss on the lips before escorting her out the door.

[weaselle]

being a line cook is insane but people do it anyway

do you want to know the secret to why line cooks stay line cooks?

We're addicted to a certain aspect of the job. A sort of combination of Pride and Power.

See, most of what is going on in that restaurant comes down to you. If the restaurant was a dairy, you'd be the cow, everything is based on what you produce; how much, how fast, and of what quality.

And it's INSANELY hard for most people to do. It requires you to keep mental track of tons of stuff while doing complicated physical creation in a dangerous environment under intense pressure

Any line cooks reading this? let me recreate a moment most of us have had many many times

For the rest of you this will be a nice window into the line cook experience

you have a rail FULL of tickets, and the printer will NOT stop printing more.

You've got a stove FULL of stuff you're cooking, and half of it is for stuff you don't even have a ticket for, because of something on a table that already went out was wrong or missing, or a server forgot to put something on a ticket and needs it in a hurry, or...

the tickets you are working on are for tables that finished their appetizers 45 minutes ago, and it could be an hour before you even get a chance to read whatever the printer is currently printing.

You have a head FULL of stuff you're tracking: how quickly the sauce is thickening in this pan, whether the garlic is about to burn in that pan, how long before you drain the pasta in that pot before it over cooks. As soon as the thing in the oven for table 31 is 5 minutes from done you gotta put the other thing on the flat top to go with it, you're putting together Something on your board and you can't finish it because you need a refill of an ingredient from the walk-in but you can't go get it because if you leave the kitchen you'll burn the thing in the salamander. And you can't plate the thing in salamander yet because the Something you're putting together on your board is taking up all the room you had left in this disaster of a kitchen

Three people have just told you complicated changes to dishes you have to organize and keep in your head. Something like

"24 needs 3 gnocchi not 4, and 2 with no rosemary; 3 needs all 4 gnocchi to have extra rosemary, 2 with no garnish; 22 needs an extra gnocchi extra garnish no rosemary, salads are almost out you can go in 3 or 4 minutes"

The manager, assistant manager, about 8 servers, and a fuckton of people at tables are all waiting on YOU with an impatience bordering on fury.

right? sound familiar? okay that's not the moment, that's just the dinner rush on a night somewhere between bad and average.

The moment happens when, during this insanity, you reach an internal place where you become completely overwhelmed. Panic and frustration and over stimulus all rise up and wipe your brain completely clean. You can't think, you have no idea what to do, you want to run away, you want to quit, you can barely think of your own name, everything feels completely impossible.

And then. The Moment

You pull it back together.

You stop being overwhelmed, you stop panicking, you insist that it IS possible, and that you are going to do it. You decide what has to happen and you start. You clear all the clutter you can from your kitchen. You pull all your tickets as far down the rail as possible and scan through the tickets on the printer so you have an idea of how things are going to go. You write down a couple of times on tickets that you would usually keep in your head but you need the brain space. You group the tickets according to not only time but what dishes they have in common so you can do batches of things. You decide if you can just get these two things out of your way you'll be in a much better position and so you concentrate on getting those two things cooked and plated. You beg the dishwasher to grab you the thing you need from the walk-in. You call your assistant manager or manager into the kitchen and you tell them you need them to start you 8 gnocchis: 3 no rosemary one extra garnish, 4 extra rosemary two no garnish, and one normal.

Right? Okay so first of all, as you can see... The job is INSANE

and second of all. Not everybody is capable of that Moment. The moment you stare already-existing catastrophic failure in the face and tell it No. That moment.

and you have to be capable of that moment if you want to be a line cook.

Which means pretty close to zero other people in that restaurant can do what you can do.

So now let me tell you a story.

I was 19 years old. I was a line cook at an italian joint. We're slammed off our ass one night, and the manager is in the little galley kitchen with me, and he's just standing there because he isn't good enough to not be in the way if he tries to help

and he's over my should about everything, telling me to drain that more or turn the heat down on this etc.

Finally, I stop completely, look him dead in the eye, and say "Tony, i'm not cooking another thing until you leave this kitchen."

I'm 19. Ive worked here six months. Tony is twice my age and married to the owner's daughter. There is a heavy pause.

Then Tony turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

What's he going to do, send me home? Zero other people in this restaurant can do the thing that makes it a restaurant. If i go home the customers are going home too.

And that's the real reason most line cooks stay line cooks even though the job feels like a war you never win.

It's that interplay of Pride and Power. For those few hours, the restaurant is happening because of you.

That's the power.

For the other part, try pulling a cook off the line during the rush. You can't. Even if they are in the weeds. Maybe even especially if they are in the weeds.

Once i was working with a cook who, in the middle of the dinner rush, sliced is hand open - a cut both deep and wide, pouring blood. No bandage we had was going to be a solution for it.

So he popped a latex glove on that hand, triple wrapped a rubber band around his wrist to keep the blood in, washed with soap, and went right back to cooking.

Because it was the dinner rush and no one else could do the job, and he wasn't coming off that line.

30 minutes in he had to swap gloves because it had filled with blood like a water balloon and was making it hard to cook. Leaving the line was never even a question.

that's the pride

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Unbound

Part 8 - Take Me To Church

Series Summary - Not having a mating bond didn't stop the love Azriel and Celeste have for each other or their commitment. When an unknown magic lingering from Celeste's past causes her to lose all memories of the last century, will they be able to rebuild their life without a bond tethering them together?

Word Count - 5k

Warnings - references to injuries, references to past abuse/imprisonment, suicidal thoughts, memory loss, all of the angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Through a tug on her mating bond, Nesta was informed that Cassian and Azriel were outside the bounds of Velaris but would return within the hour. Seeing as they needed the Illyrian’s assistance in getting up to the House of Wind, they returned to Celeste’s townhouse to wait for their arrival. After changing her work worn clothes and splashing some cold water on her face, Celeste made her way downstairs to the living room to join Nesta. 

“Don’t you get tired of having to rely on Cassian to get you in and out of your house?” 

“Not really. I honestly spend more time there than anywhere else. I have a sentient house and a full library. Why would I want to leave?” She laughed softly.

Nesta had previously told her all about the wonders of the House of Wind. Celeste was actually very interested in exploring the library located there, although that wasn’t the reason for her request today.

The sound of the front door latch being pushed open grabbed her attention as Nesta stood to meet the males as they walked through the door.

“Nes, my love,” Cassian greeted her with open arms attempting to pull her into an embrace, but she placed a hand firmly against his chest and held him at a distance.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ugh, you stink. Like males and testosterone.”

“Normally that would elicit a different reaction,” he laughed with a wink and wiggling his eyebrows.

Celeste came to stand directly before the door they had just entered, her eyes flaring wide for a moment taking in the sight. Half of Cassian’s face was taken up with a swollen bruise, from eye to jawline. Spots of blood had been half heartedly cleaned from around his nose and lip. Nesta didn’t seem to be surprised in any way at the state of her mate. Scanning her eyes over to the other side of the doorframe Celeste observed that Azriel was sporting a few injuries himself. 

“Don’t look so shocked sweetheart,” Cassian said to Celeste, grabbing her attention again. “Just some males having a little bonding time that’s all. No hard feelings, right brother?”

Cassian reached around Nesta to tap Az’s shoulder with the back of his hand. Az’s stoic face shifted into a forced half smile. “Yeah,” he responded.

Celeste took them both in, darting her eyes from male to male. It appeared they did this on purpose to each other.

Was there an argument? What were they fighting over? Who started it?

The revelation from just a short while ago began to wash away as that uneasy suspicious feeling began bubbling up again in her gut. 

“Normally you’d play my nurse maid,” Cassian directed at Celeste. Her thoughts fizzled before she could let them run loose. “But no worries, Nes can take care of me even if the healing part looks a little different than what you normally do.” 

“Seriously Cas, enough.” Nesta chided with a swat to his shoulder. “Celeste wants to visit the library temple. I told her we would go this afternoon.”

“Yeah, sure.” Bending down to scoop Nesta up in his arms, he smiled. “Hold on tight love.”

Maybe it was the information overload of the day or the shock at seeing both males walk through her door injured, but Celeste hadn’t even considered what getting to the House of Wind entailed until now. Realizing she would have to be carried in flight had her frozen in place and it wasn’t the flying that worried her. 

Realizing her hesitance, Nesta elbowed Cas to let her down. “We don’t have to go if you aren’t comfortable. We can do this another time.”

“No,” Celeste said before thinking. The need that had cropped up at the apartment building persisted. “No, I want to. Just –” she took in a shaky breath.

Azriel hadn’t moved to assist her in preparation for departure. He hadn’t even moved from his position by the door since arriving back home. Glancing at Cassian again she decided he was the preferable option.

“Could I fly with you?” She asked timidly.

“Yeah.” Cas answered soothingly. “Yeah. Of course.”

There was something easy about Cassian that appealed to her sense of security. Quick with his humor and always teasing his loved ones had done wonders in comforting some small part of Celeste’s worry in this new-to-her world. The brief flash of hurt that crossed Azriel’s gaze went unnoticed by everyone but Nesta. As they all prepared to leave, she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder with a consoling look of her own.

The act of allowing Cas to handle her body to carry her for flight already had her teeth on edge, but it was the jolt of kickoff that nearly shattered her already fragile nervous system. Celeste squeezed the arms around his neck involuntarily as she screwed her eyes shut tightly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you, I promise.” Cas said with a chuckle in his voice.

“I’m not afraid of heights.” Celeste responded firmly, still refusing to open her eyes.

He allowed the chuckle to leave his throat this time. “I know.”

Easing open one eye and then the other, Celeste allowed herself to take in the view from their still ascending position. It really was a magnificent view, the city spreading out behind them as they veered towards the hillside. This time when she closed her eyes, it was only to focus her senses on the feel of the wind against her face. 

“I used to fly, you know,” she spoke softly into the wind, barely enough to be heard. “Before my wings were – taken.”

“I know,” Cas answered, nearly as inaudible as her. If anyone could imagine the horror of losing their wings, it was him. This time it was his grip that tightened slightly against her. 

Moments passed in quiet before she spoke again. “Did Azriel do that to you?” She nodded towards his face as she turned to face him. 

“To be fair, I did bait him into it,” he answered matter of factly.

Her brows pinched together in a look of disgust. “Why? Why would you want someone to do that to you?”

“I didn’t exactly want to do it. I don’t normally desire to have my beautiful face rearranged.” Cassian smiled as he spoke before his face turned serious again. “But it was for the best. He needed to get out of his head for a while.”

Celeste knew the feeling of being wrapped up inside her own head a little too well. The desire for escape from her thoughts was always a tempting one but violence had never crossed her mind as the answer. 

“And taking it out on his friend like a punching bag was the best way to go about that?” Her remark was snide with disbelief.

“We are Illyrian, Celeste. Born and bred to be warriors and soldiers. Pushing our bodies to the limits is what we know. Sometimes it’s the only way to get those thoughts to calm long enough to sort them out rationally.” Cas watched her face carefully as he noticed her revulsion. “We know our limits though. We know when it's needed and also when it's undeserved. None of us here would ever initiate something like that without knowing the other was willing or able to take it. I’d rather Az take it out on me than himself.”

“And that’s what he would have done? Take it out on himself?” Her eyes were searing straight into his, the answer she expected lingering between them.

“Yes. That’s exactly what he would have done. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Az tends to be a pretty private male. He would have retreated into himself and let those thoughts eat him from the inside. I didn’t want to watch that happen again. He’s been through a lot. But he would never hurt you, Celeste.”

A sudden pang of guilt hit her. Of course this last week or so had been hard for him too. It wasn’t just her life that had been completely upended, but his as well. The life he shared with her – as her husband. 

“It has been a hell of a week,” she admitted meekly as she cast her gaze toward her knees.

“It certainly has. I meant he’s been through a lot in general though. In his life. Before now, like in his past.”

Celeste met his stare once more as he continued. “He’s been through a lot of terrible stuff. Like you.”

The pause before those last two words told Celeste exactly what he meant. Cassian’s tender knowing look at her made her squirm a bit in his arms as she looked away again, her thumb beginning their familiar anxious path between her fingers. The silence lengthened between them as she felt them begin their descent. 

“Is that what happened to his hands?” 

She didn’t need to see the look on his face or hear the words that didn’t come as they touched down to know the answer. They landed on the wide terrace of the House of Wind without the answer ever coming. 

Nesta and Azriel quickly followed suit, landing just a few feet away. The mates fell into step side by side as they made their way to lead them into the house. With a sideways glance at the remaining male, Celeste measured her distance and followed behind. Az took the cue and left a wingspan of distance between them as he too followed. 

Nesta rambled on animatedly as they walked through the winding halls that carried them lower into the house, pointing out interesting things along the way. Celeste wasn’t really listening, focused instead on the measured steps beside her as she stole glances here and there. Azriel’s face was still stoic, but also looked measuredly more tired than it had at the townhouse. She briefly wondered at the conversation that must have taken place on his flight over here with Nesta. Deciding she would pester her friend about it later, she focused her attention on the doors they were approaching. 

The library was buried deep under the house proper, carved into a spiraling hollow from the mountain itself. The enormous stone doors that stood before them were obviously much too heavy for even the Illyrian’s that accompanied them but they slid open of their own accord, no doubt controlled by that mysterious magic the house carried.

Inside Celeste could see the beginning layers of the massive shelves before they dipped into a curving spiral further below them. The sheer amount of volumes fascinated her and she very much wanted to spend hours exploring them. Not today though, today had already been long enough and the task she had set herself to complete still weighed heavy on her mind. 

The group stopped short of the hewn desk situated at the library entrance where every visitor had to pass before entering. A tall slim figure, clad in pale blue robes and adorned with a hood stood sentry behind it. As they lingered, Cassian excused himself and headed back the way they came while Nesta slipped next to Celeste with a hand to her elbow.

“We just need to get Clotho’s permission before heading down to the temple.” She relayed as Azriel stepped forward towards the desk.

“But isn’t it your house?” Celeste asked curiously.

“The library belongs to the priestesses. I have no say in who comes and who goes from here. Only Clotho decides. It’s for their safety.”

She watched as Azriel gave a demure nod to Clotho. His voice carried as a low murmur to her ears, the words indistinguishable. Nesta had given her the history of how the library came to be and the reason why all the priestesses were here.That was part of the reason Celeste had requested to come to this temple instead of one of the others within the streets of Velaris. It felt like the right place to be for what she felt she needed to do. 

Clotho’s answer came from a self writing pen as she slid the slip of paper over the desktop to Azriel. Picking it up to read, that stoic face crumpled for a fraction of a second. Clotho reached out from the sleeves of her robe and placed one gnarled hand on top of a scarred one of his own. With another nod he turned and stepped toward the two of them waiting.

“What did she say?” Celeste said, eyeing the paper still in his hand. 

He didn’t voice an answer. Instead he reached out, handing the note to her as his body slipped into the spot Nesta had slyly vacated. Taking the note in her own fingers she read it. 

She has always been welcome here. As have you.

Our prayers are with you both daily. 

The burning sting of tears hit her eyes immediately. The thoughts she had been holding at bay for the past hours, crashed inside her like a wave. Knowing why the priestesses were secluded her, why she herself had come to find sanctuary here rolled through her as she held back a sob. The flash of her conversation with Cassian appeared like lightning in her mind. 

He’s been through a lot. Like you.

Celeste whipped her head towards Azriel as the thought materialized, his eyes landing on hers briefly before staring down at the floor. Something akin to reverence, something sacred in nature seemed to settle within her before her thoughts ran away with her. The priestesses, Azriel, herself. They had all endured something no one should ever have to endure and yet they all ended up here in the same place. They had all found sanctuary and some form of peace within the bounds of Velaris. The feeling that it had to mean something was nearly overwhelming as the memory of those woods raced through her again. She swore she could almost smell that night again before Nesta broke the moment.

“I’ll show you down before I head back upstairs. Maybe stay for dinner after?”

Celeste just gave a non committal shrug as she smiled weakly and fell into step next to Nesta. It didn't take long before they reached the temple set outside the bounds of the library walls but still deep within the mountain itself. 

“Take as much time as you need.” Nesta said as she led them all down the middle aisle toward the dais. “You’ll have privacy as long as you want it. You know where to find me.” Her last comment directed towards Azriel with a nod as she left them to themselves. 

Celeste took in the simple space as she settled into the end of a short pew in the front row. 

“I’ll wait outside so you can have some privacy.” Azriel’s deep voice, even lowered, echoed in the small space. 

“No. No, it's fine. Really.” Celeste stammered. “I have a feeling we could both use some time here today.”

The small smile, though timid, nearly broke his heart. Casting a glance over her, Azriel noticed the fidgeting motion of her hand in her lap. Slowly, he lowered himself into the pew across the aisle shifting his wings nervously, still close but allowing her distance. If they reached out their arms across the aisle, their hands would have met in the middle. The picture that his mind created caused that godforsaken chasm in his chest to twitch. 

“I just don’t really know what to do here,” she went on, staring at her hand but continuing the motion. “I wanted to come today but the only times I’ve been in a temple before I was alone then too. I’ve never been to a service.”

“I’m sure Clotho would be happy to have you attend one if you’d like,” he offered.

She only nodded before falling silent for a long minute. 

“The only prayer I know is the one I heard at my mother’s funeral. It doesn’t really feel appropriate now,” her voice was soft and low, sending chills over Az’s skin. He pulled harder on the hold of his shadows as they attempted to cross the space between them.

With a shuddering shift of his wings, he whispered. “I’m sure whatever gods are listening won’t mind.”

“Are you religious?” she asked, lifting her head to meet his eye.

“In my own way,” he answered after a beat of measured thought.

Celeste dipped her chin before bringing her face forward scanning the relics of the temple upon the dias before her. None of them had any familiarity to her but they felt sacred all the same. 

“Where I was born, it was the practice to worship many different gods and goddesses. There was a different one for whatever prayer you wanted answered,” she paused briefly in thought. “I’m not sure which one I should be asking. I don’t really know exactly what I’m asking for, you know?”

Azriel stared at the strong outline of her profile against the background of the candles lighting the wall behind her. The slope of her nose, the rise of her cheekbones, the soft way her dark hair curled at her temple. “I’ve only ever worshipped one goddess myself,” he began slowly. “I think a prayer said to one is as good as a prayer said to many.” 

Celeste sat silently for a minute digesting his words before staring at her hands once more. As she dropped her head in assumed prayer, Azriel’s gaze slid to the floor in front of him, taking in the silence. He thought for a moment that maybe he should offer a prayer of his own before suddenly, the soft tones of Celeste’s voice rose. 

Gods above me, grant me serenity

In this the darkest hour of my journey home.

I appeal to you.

Mother maiden, grant me safety 

In your endearing arms that granted me life.

I appeal to you.

Gods on high, guide me to the river

In the slakes of my thirst for life

So that I may drink everlasting from its shores.

Mother holy, appeal for me

On behalf of my weary soul

So that I may find solace in your embrace

Forevermore.

The air around Az felt like it was crackling against his skin as he sat stone still, listening. His focus honed on the words just as much as on how she spoke them. The hitch of her voice that caught as she neared the end nearly stopped his pulse. 

Finishing her prayer, Celeste felt an odd sort of peace settle over her. The task she had come to complete, to find some sort of answer within the web of confusion in her mind, felt closer than it had been since waking from her seizure. The pull of desire that had carried her to this sacred place felt like it was the right choice, the first thing to feel right in this life she couldn’t remember.

“My mother’s funeral was one of the last times Tyrik allowed me outside,” she spoke up after a moment of silence. “Shortly after that he began locking me away.”

Azriel cleared his throat with a pained noise and turned to look at her. He remained quiet, knowing inherently this was something she needed. Her dark eyes met his across the aisle.

“He still allowed me out to go to the temple on his estate. I don’t really know why and it was only ever alone under heavy guard. Maybe he still had some twisted sense of morality. Or maybe he thought through piety would come obedience.” 

Az’s face twisted slowly into a tight pinch and his eyes glistened in the candlelight..

“Mostly I just sat in silence,” Celeste pulled in a shuddering breath as she stared into her lap once more. Her hand had stilled but now her thumb was trapped in her clenched fist. “But eventually I would repeat that prayer over and over, hoping maybe one day it would be answered. That maybe some benevolent god would hear me and grant an end to my misery.”

Azriel of course knew of the horrors that she had endured and the trauma it had caused, but this was the first time she had so clearly voiced her desire for death. He practically jumped from the pew in a bid to release some of the pent up energy building within him.

“Celeste,” he choked out past a sob as he paced and scrubbed a hand down his face, the tears flowing freely now.

“I know I don’t remember any of my life that came after,” she hiccuped on a choked sob of her own. “But I am here. I escaped. So maybe my prayer was answered after all.”

She was free. She had been shown nothing but kindness and comfort since waking up in this strange existence. Although she had often prayed for death thinking it was the only answer, she had been given a different option. 

What a waste it would be to spoil it. She thought.

But such a large part of that option she had been granted involved the male standing across the aisle from her and that still gave her pause.

“I just – I don’t really know what to do with myself in this life. To wake up with no memories of it and everyone around me knows more about myself than I do and then to find out that I have a husband.” Celeste brought her line of sight back to those golden hazel eyes that were still lined with tears. “It’s a lot to take in.”

The urge to comfort her was overbearing, his shadows pulsing outward in a bid to reach her. Instead he just nodded, afraid to make a move toward her in fear of startling her. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to behave around anyone. I don’t know how to behave around you.”

Azriel’s brows rose as his eyes widened. “You don’t need to behave a certain way,” his voice came out gravelly.

“I just meant that I don’t know what’s expected of me,” she stated.

“I don’t have expectations of you, Celeste. You don’t have to do anything to please me,” he said as his voice evened out. “You are the one in control here.”

The moment of quiet as she considered his words felt like an eternity.

“If it makes you feel better, I can leave,” Az offered solemnly. “I can come stay here with Cas –”

“Leave?” Celeste’s brows rose now. “Why would you leave?”

“I would do anything you asked me to do.” His stare was focused so intently upon her and a small flicker of some feeling licked at her gut.

His earlier words rang through her head. You are the one in control here. The idea was so foreign in her mind that she couldn’t believe it to be true. The desire to prove him wrong felt like danger but the need to know how far his words carried was stronger. 

“Anything?” 

“Yes.” 

“You would leave if I asked you to?” She asked, testing. 

“Yes.”

Celeste pushed a bit harder. “Even if I told you to never come back?”

Azriel’s face pinched once more as he swallowed. “Even then.”

“If I asked you to kill someone for me, would you do it?”

“Yes.”

Celeste felt herself rock back, the pew meeting her spine, as the bolt of shock shot through her. It wasn’t just his answer that did it but the speed at which he gave it. He hadn’t even hesitated to think about it. 

Noting the creep of fear blooming across her features, Azriel continued. “I also know that is something you would never ask of me without a damn good reason. You have never failed to find the good in everyone.”

Even in me. The thought finished silently in his mind. 

She swallowed hard before speaking again. “But would you still do it, even then? If I asked you to.”

“Yes,” he said in a rasping whisper. “If you asked me to do it then I know it is warranted.” 

Celeste sat there rigidly, shock still evident on her face, as she rolled everything around in her mind like a ball of wet clay she wanted to form. The flicker she felt from before had returned. It was something she couldn’t name and it made her feel strange and unsettled. It wasn’t fear. That would make more sense to her. Fear was familiar to her. Too familiar. This was something altogether different. This felt like – power. It sent a thrill straight to her bones. 

His willingness to commit these acts for her made her feel powerful. The moment however was brief before the doubt started creeping in.

If he would do that for me then what does he expect in return?

Azriel had remained quiet as she sat there. The stillness made his skin itch but he dared not move. His anxiety that he had scared her with his answers ate away at him. The urge to rush into defending himself was overwhelming as the shadows began a slow swarm trying to hide him. 

“Have you ever struck me in anger?” She had to know what the price of this power was. She knew he could lie straight to her face but there was something deep inside her that told her she would know. Something that power had touched and sparked to life. 

Even though the shock of her question lined his face, he didn’t hesitate. “No.”

Her eyes narrowed in a hardened stare. “Surely in a hundred years you’ve been angry at me at some point.”

“I have been frustrated with you, yes,” Azriel declared firmly. “But never truly angry.” 

Her next question followed quickly. “Not even when I disobey you?”

Azriel flinched. He knew why she was asking these questions. She needed certainty. She craved the reassurance that even if she pushed him she would be safe. He understood, but the thought still caused a sickening feeling in his gut.

“I have never required your obedience, Celeste.” His voice was thick with emotion. “You are free to make whatever choices you desire. And I have never once desired to harm you.” The thought of causing her pain, of bruising her body or causing blood to bloom across her skin, made that sickening feeling boil nearly to eruption.

Celeste remained silent but her eyes never left him, monitoring the emotions as they played across his face. He couldn’t read anything behind her stony expression. That wiggle of doubt at their lack of a mating bond made his gut roll with a different kind of sadness this time. If only he could feel her along that nonexistent thread between them, then he would know what to say or do.

She stood there contemplating, staring fixedly into the strikingly beautiful face before her. He had answered every question with words she wanted to hear. No part of her had given her pause to indicate that he was lying to her. But they were still just words. There was nothing tangible before her that showed her he would do everything he said. A thought rose to life in her mind along with a shred of fear. 

What if this is what pushed him too far? 

But she was tired of the fear sapping every ounce of her energy, so before it could take a winding hold, she shoved.

“You would do anything I asked?”

“Yes.”

“So if I asked you to kneel before –”

The hard crack of bone upon the floor cut off her words, the vibration coursing up her legs from under her feet. Azriel had taken one long stride forward before he slammed to the ground, not in the graceful kneel of a gentle male, but in a desperate plea. There before her he stayed perfectly still, eyes searing into her own, hands hanging limply at his sides. She stared back at him in wide eyed wonder, mouth agape. She couldn’t pull forth a single thought but shock. 

“The only goddess I have ever worshipped is you,” his voice broke the silence, the knot of held back tears audible in his voice. His large scarred hand moved deftly to his thigh without breaking his stare. Unsheathing Truth Teller, he laid it across his palms. “And if you asked me to sharpen my own dagger so that you could sacrifice me upon your altar, I would do that too.” He bent slightly, laying the shining dagger at her feet. “I would tear myself apart if I knew that it would bring you peace.”

Her mouth hung open as she continued staring. That thrill from before was now a roaring blaze inside her. Power. Never in her life had she felt powerful in any regard. Everything that she had been through seemed destined to beat her spirit down and defeat her. The inferno this power created stole her breath away. The lack of air started to make her head spin and with a shake she brought herself back to reality.

“Don’t leave,” she managed to eke out. 

Azriel’s head gave a confused shudder in response.

“It’s your home too. Don’t leave. I need to get used to sharing it with you.”

“You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to, Celeste.” Azriel pleaded. “That’s what I’ve been try–”

“I want to,” she burst out. “I want to try.”

Azriel’s posture seemed to sag slightly in relief and his shadows broke their hold, but on his knees he remained. “I don’t know how to behave around you either,’ a soft pleading in his eyes. “I don’t want to frighten you.”

The shadows worked their way up her arms in a winding circuit and Celeste couldn’t help the small sob of a laugh that passed her lips. “Then we will try together.”

Just before they exited the doors of the temple to leave, Celeste couldn’t help but to pause one last time. Turning to look towards the dais once more she threw up one final prayer. It wasn’t elegant or practiced but it was earnest. 

Please, keep me safe. 

@mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @chairofchaos @pit-and-the-pen @prythianpages

@weekendlusting @sarawritestories @ceoofyearning @i-am-infinite @tothestarsandwhateverend

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (8)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.5K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, suggestive themes, smut

Notes: Please note the updated warnings. These next few chapters are a new stage of Bradley and Pumpkin growing back together, and while I'm very excited about it, I know it may not be for everyone. For everyone who sticks around, please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

-------

You’re working today. You hadn’t wanted to, but a local congresswoman you had requested an interview with months ago finally agreed to a conversation in her office, and Bradley wouldn’t let you pass it up. It was only for a few hours, but he finds himself missing you while you’re gone. 

This is the first time he had really been alone in the house for a long period of time since he got back from the hospital a month ago, and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had tried to read a book, or get lost in a movie, but nothing had really kept his attention. He was laying on the couch, the news on the tv in the background, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t fully dove into all that it contained, and he figured now was the time to do it, even if you weren’t here to answer any questions that he might have. 

It’s interesting, seeing himself this way. Groupchats where he was an active participant, talking about parties or plans he has no recollection of, or discussing flight schedules for the week. He swaps Star Wars and Harry Potter trivia with Fanboy and gym regimes with Hangman and sends music back and forth with Coyote.  

When he opens the text thread he has with you, the only one pinned to the top of his messages, his breath catches at the last message received. 

 I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.

It was sent the day of his accident, and he knew by the time stamp that it was sent after the crash. You must have texted that to him while you were waiting for news on his condition, and not for the first time, he feels both guilt and gratitude go through him; he’s so sorry that he’s hurt you like this, but he’s so glad he’s here now. 

He scrolls for a while, reading you rambling to him about your work day and bouncing ideas for articles off of him, jumping from one topic to the next while you know he’s in the air or teaching a class so he doesn’t have his phone on him. Based on his responses that come later on, he knows he never minded the almost nonsensical messages. Even now, he finds it adorable and enjoys reading through them. There are conversations about dinner and what true crime documentary the two of you were going to watch that weekend. 

There’s a little bit of everything in these messages between the two of you, but his brow furrows when he gets to a point about a week before his accident. 

I’m on my way home, he had texted you, You better be ready for me, Pumpkin. 

He scrolls further up, trying to find the beginning of the conversation that led to that, and he almost wishes he wouldn’t have. 

You had texted him earlier that morning, when he barely must have left the house to go to base, a picture of you. There was a playful smirk on your lips, and you had what looked to be the cap from his formal dress whites perched crooked on your head. That in and of itself wasn’t what made his breath hitch, though. It was the fact that you were still in bed, your arm draped over your chest where he could see everything but everything, you hanging onto only a single shred of decency. 

Fly well today, Lieutenant Commander. 

It had descended into a day full of teasing from there, each message dirtier than the one before. Descriptions of what you wanted him to do to you and him warning you of what he would do when he got his hands on you. He feels flushed all over, but he keeps scrolling up. He bypasses recipes you wanted his opinion on and a reminder of what the Hulu password was, and eventually finds more pictures. Some are more risque than others, but all of them make him feel like the temperature in the room rose by multiple degrees. 

There’s a tickle in his brain again, and he finds himself closing the messaging app and going to his photo albums. There’s a locked album there, and he knows, he just knows what it’s going to contain. 

He shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t. It feels like a strange invasion of privacy. But he’s wracking his mind to try and remember what the code would be to get into it anyway, and he curses when he gets it wrong first once, then a second time. He enters your birthday on the third attempt and groans out loud when he’s immediately met with the filthiest images he’s ever seen. 

It’s a whole gallery of you, or the two of you together, and Bradley can’t stop himself from looking. He bites his lip as he takes in the photos, his mind so overrun with thoughts of how fucking stunning you are that he can barely think straight at all. 

He stops at one in particular, clicking to enlarge it, and loses all thoughts entirely. Neither of your faces are in it, but he doesn’t need to guess that it’s the two of you. You’re sitting back against his chest, his ankles hooked over your legs, forcing them wide for him. He can see your nails biting into his thighs, but it’s his own hand that draws his attention. With the hand that’s not taking the selfie style photo, his fingers are gliding through the wetness gathered between your legs. You shine against the dark wedding band on his left land, one that’s noticeably absent from his finger now. He’s practically panting as he stares. 

He’s so hypnotized by the way the two of you look together that he doesn’t hear the garage door open or the sound of you walking into the house. 

“Baby?” 

Your voice makes him jump so high that his phone goes flying out of his hand, a curse leaving his lips. He scrambles to pick it up when he sees you reaching for it as well, and your eyebrows are raised high as you look at him in surprise. 

“Hey,” his voice cracks, higher pitched than normal, and he blushes. Your eyebrows raise a little bit higher. “Hi, sorry. Didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yup,” he nods, faking a cough so he could try to clear his throat, his face flushed. “Totally fine.” 

It’s not difficult to see how skeptical you are, and it’s hard for him to maintain eye contact with you and not let his eyes flicker down your body now that he has an idea of what rests underneath the smart dress you wore. 

You eye him suspiciously, “Are you sure?”  

He contemplates for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this conversation, because the longer you looked at him like that the hotter he became under the collar. He took a deep breath, nodding again. 

“I was looking at messages and pictures,” he says all in one breath, not liking the idea of completely lying to you. He rationalized that a different version of the truth was okay, even as the pictures flashed in his mind again. “Trying to see if anything jogged my memory.” 

You search his eyes, and he tries his best to appear innocent, willing the hardening in his jeans to go down before you took notice. He suspected you already might have from the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Did it?” 

If he thought hard enough he swore he could almost feel you. Your back against his chest, how soft your inner thighs left. How warm your wetness felt against his fingers as he took you to the edge. 

“No,” he stutters out after a moment, shaking his head, his face burning, “nothing yet.” 

________

He finds himself rubbing his thumb against the fading tan line on his left ring finger, something he had seen you do time and time again. He hadn’t really wondered up until this point where his ring was, but ever since he saw the picture with it so clearly against your skin, he couldn’t get it out of his head. 

He’s helping you in the kitchen a few days later, mesmerized as always by how efficient and easy you made everything look. You roll your eyes when he comments on it.

“It’s cookies, Bradley. Nothing fancy.”

“But they’re from scratch. The dough isn’t pre-made. That’s fancy!” 

You laugh at him in response, shaking your head. You take the rings on your left hand off, sitting them beside the sink as you wash your hands before the two of you get started. It raises the subject back to the forefront of his mind. He had been desperate to ask you for the last few days, but hadn’t built up the courage to do it. But he can almost feel it on his finger now, can feel a ghost of your fingers as you slide it into place, and it’s suddenly more of a need to know. 

“Can I uh…can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“What happened to my wedding ring?” 

You pause from where you’re cracking an egg into the mixing bowl, your eyebrows raised high. You set it down gently, turning to face him. 

“Does it bother you…that I wear mine, still?” 

“No!” he insists, hating even the idea of you taking it off. “It doesn’t bother me at all. I promise. We just have never acknowledged mine? I know that I wear one - I remember wearing one, and I’ve seen it in pictures, too.” 

“You love your ring,” you tell him softly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you give him a small smile, though he can see the pain in your eyes, and shake your head. 

“You don’t fly with it on,” you explain, “you tried, at first, but you had been flying so long without anything on your hands that you couldn’t get used to it being there when you were operating the controls.” 

He thinks for a moment and the words come to him slowly. “You were the one who told me to start taking it off when I fly.” 

“I was.” 

“Why?”

Your lips quirk and you shrug. “I’m more worried about you flying safely than wearing your ring at all times. You keep it in one of the pockets of your flight suit when you go up in the air now.” 

Of course you were more worried for him. He should have expected nothing less from you and the way you effortlessly care for him. He can also picture that, he thinks. It’s easy to imagine not wanting to be separated from the physical reminder that he belongs to you, so even if he couldn’t wear it, he’d at least have it on him, in the inner chest pocket right above his heart. 

“So..” He doesn’t quite know how to ask his question, but you must read it on his face. 

You twist your own ring on your finger in the way you always seemed to do to center yourself. Pain flashed across your face and Bradley knew you were remembering, too. “They uh..they had to cut your flight suit off, before you went into surgery. You weren’t breathing and were bleeding…” you cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the visual from your head. “But it was still in your pocket. So. I have it.” 

He sets down the bag of chocolate chips he had been holding and walks the few steps to where you’re standing at the counter. When he holds his arms open, you don’t hesitate to step into them. He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he breathes in your scent. 

“I’m so sorry I put you through that,” he whispers into the strands of your hair, and he feels the way you squeeze him in response. 

“You’re okay now,” you speak into his chest, and he thinks he might feel you press a kiss there, directly over the spot where that inner pocket of his flight suit would be, where he kept you when he had no other choice. 

The two of you stand there wrapped up together for a long moment. When you lift your head, your eyes are glassy, but you give him a smile and a small kiss to his lips. 

Later, after the cookies have been made and devoured, you join him on the back porch. You had taken to sitting on the swing together and when you sit beside him tonight, he sees you rolling something between your fingers. His breath catches when he sees exactly what it is. You’re staring at it too, your gaze intense and pondering. He doesn’t speak, not quite knowing what to say. Eventually, you break out of your haze and meet his eyes. 

“You don’t have to put it back on,” you tell him, holding your hand out to him. His wedding band sits on your palm, shining against your skin. For a moment he sees you in white standing right in front of him, wildflowers in your hair.  

His fingertips brush yours when he takes it from you, admiring the piece of jewelry he wasn’t aware that he missed until it was back in his possession. 

“But it’s yours. I want - I want you to have it.”

He rolls it between his fingers, contemplating for a moment. He swallows, suddenly overcome with emotion he hadn’t seen coming and that tingling that’s starting to become familiar to him. You had picked it out yourself and he knows when he looks, he’ll see an engraving of your initials beside his. He was always so proud to be able to wear this, knowing that it symbolized being with you, a small way of telling anyone who saw it that he was lucky enough to be your husband. 

But he wasn’t him - not yet, not completely. Everyday brought him closer to thinking that he could be, though.

“Pumpkin, I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. 

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping his cheek and turning his head to meet your eyes. You didn’t look mad, or upset, and you’re giving him the gentlest, kindest look anyone ever had. But your eyes didn’t hold pity or sympathy either - just a trust and love that he’s still not sure what he could have ever done to deserve. “Whenever you’re ready. And if you never are-” 

“I will be,” he cut you off; he wanted nothing more than to be ready. “I just…I still have something to prove to myself.” 

You nod, and Bradley leans forward to kiss you softly. He leaves his forehead pressed against yours when he pulls away, relishing in the calm you brought him. 

“I’ll get there,” he says, “I promise.” 

—------

He’s spent time alone, but he hasn’t spent time away from you with other people. He’s hesitant to accept the invite from Mav to visit the hanger he had here. But planes and his godfather had been a staple of Bradley’s childhood, an influence on his whole life, really. He had been cleared to drive earlier in the week, so that Saturday, he leaves early. He’s anxious at the thought of being away from you but he knows that the him from before wouldn’t have said no to the invitation and he was so determined to get back to who that was. And he knows that you have a life outside of taking care of him, too. You’re getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife later and he knows you’re excited, even if you hung onto him a little bit longer than a normal hug when he said goodbye. You had made him promise that he would call you if he needed anything and the whole way to the desert, his fingers twitched, wanting to call you just to hear your voice. 

Mav greets him with a large smile and a tight hug, “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Me too,” Bradley says. He means it, even if he does miss you already. He looks around the hanger, taking note of the few planes and motorcycles throughout the long stretch. It was a lot more than the collection he had when Bradley was 17. “What are we working on today?” 

Mav gives him his signature grin. “I want to show you something.” 

He follows him to the end of the hanger, where a large blue tarp is covering what can’t be anything but a plane. His godfather gestures to it. Bradley raises an eyebrow but walks up to it, grabbing hold of the tarp and yanking it back. Like he suspected, he’s greeted by a Cessna. It’s a classic 172 by the looks of it, a smaller four seater. It’s a sleek white in color with subtle burnt orange line work. Bradley whistles. It was beautiful in a way that only planes like this could be. 

“When’d you get this one?” 

Mav smirks, shaking his head. “I didn’t.” 

“What?” 

“Take a look at the other side.” He nods his head, urging Bradley forward. Confused and intrigued, he follows the instructions, walking around to the other side of the small plane. He gets what Mav was saying, then, and sucks in a breath. Right there emblazoned on the side, in an elegant script, was Pumpkin.

This wasn’t Mav’s plane; it was his. 

“You got her about six months ago,” he says softly when he joins him at his side. 

Bradley reaches up and runs his fingers over the name. It’s foggy, but he thinks he can remember now. He had always wanted to own his own plane since the first time his godfather took him up in one at 6 years old. It was always a pipedream, though. He was never in one place for long enough, and while he was generally good with saving money, it was a bigger purchase than he had ever made. But then the two of you got married and a permanent station here in California. Between both of your savings and what he still had of his parents life insurance, the funds were there. It was you who had made the suggestion of finally pulling the trigger, and it was him who had suggested a four seater instead of a two seater so that if the two of you ever had children, you could all fly together. You cried when he showed you the name he had painted on it. 

“Still needs some work done before she’s flyable. I thought maybe you’d want to work on it today.” 

An eager smile appears on his face and he nods, already peeling his jacket off and heading toward the toolbox. If Mav noticed that he didn’t need to instruct him on where it was, he didn’t comment on it. 

The two work in tandem for hours. It had only been six weeks since his accident, but he couldn’t recall a time since flight school that he had gone this long without being near a plane and it felt good doing so again. It’s easy, getting into the rhythm of twisting bolts and tinkering with the engine wires. He thinks it won’t be long until he can get this cleared to go in the air and he knows without a doubt that you’re going to be the first passenger. 

His phone buzzes in the early afternoon and he doesn’t hesitate to put down the wrench he was working with and dig it out of his jeans pocket. You had sent him a selfie earlier when you had gotten to brunch, sunglasses on and a bright smile on your face with a mimosa in your hand, and he hoped it was another picture. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s Phoenix calling him, instead. He picks up, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Nat?” 

“Your wife got stung by a bee. We’re on our way to the hospital.” 

He can feel the dread as it settles over him. His heart beats faster in his chest. “What?” 

She sighs on the other line, and he can hear commotion in the background. “She’s severely allergic, Rooster. We sat outside at brunch and we didn’t even realize it happened at first. She didn’t have her epipen on her so we had to call an ambulance. She’s going to be fine, but you should get here anyway, okay?” 

He feels like he can barely breathe, like the room is closing in on him a little bit. Mav must notice the panic written all over him because he’s quick to come over and take the phone out of his hand, taking over the conversation. He can barely hear him over the roaring in his head. You were hurt. He knew you were extremely allergic to bees. That was something he had remembered. You were supposed to carry an epipen on you at all times. He can’t remember if you’d ever gotten stung when he was there. He can’t remember how bad it got if you ever were. But now you were in the back of an ambulance and on your way to a hospital and he could feel his fear all the way down to his bones. 

“Bradley, hey. Look at me.” 

Mav is in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders. He meets his eyes and tries to breathe, but all he can see is you, struggling to catch a breath and being loaded into the back of an ambulance. 

“I’ll drive, okay? Let’s go.” 

He follows him to the car, not really calculating anything other than the fact that he was almost an hour away from you and what if there was traffic and why didn’t you have your epipen on you? 

“She’s going to be okay.” 

“But-” 

“Phoenix said the paramedics administered epi as soon as they arrived, and it didn’t take them long to get to her. She was awake and was already breathing easier when they left for the hospital. Didn’t even need to use the sirens.” 

That doesn’t make him feel better. Not really. Knowing that trained professionals weren’t panicking must have meant that you were okay, but he knows how serious anaphylaxis is, too. 

He can’t reconcile everything that he’s feeling right now. He has never, ever felt like this before. The thought of something happening to you is scarier than any mission he had ever been on, any enemy he had encountered in the air. 

“Mav I can’t - I can’t lose her. I just got her.” 

“You aren’t going to.” 

Bradley doesn’t say anything, can’t think of a single thing to say, and instead buries his head in his hands from his spot in the passenger seat. You were going to be okay. You had to be okay. Because he may not remember everything about the two of you, but he did know for certain that if something ever happened to you, he would never, ever recover from it. 

He doesn’t wait for Mav once they get to the hospital, the older man opting to drop him off at the front before going to find parking. He’s practically sprinting as he goes through the emergency room doors and vaguely, he remembers you telling him about the time this happened before, when you took yourself to the hospital and ended up needing surgery. He can almost feel that panic now, and it makes what he’s already feeling worse. 

“Can I help-“

“I’m looking for my wife. She was brought in because of a bee sting-“

“Sir-“

“She’s really allergic and-“

“Sir!” The nurse behind the counter snaps, raising her voice over his to get through to him. “I need your wife’s name if I’m going to find her for you.”

Oh. Yes, he thinks, your name. They need your name. 

It’s the first time he’s said your full name, and your first and his last name feel so right coming off his tongue. But he can’t focus on that right now, giving all of his attention to the nurse who is typing so slowly. 

Before she can even hit enter, though, he hears his callsign echo behind him. He spins, heart racing with anxiety, and spots Nat making her way over to him. She gives the annoyed nurse a kind, charming smile as she grabs Bradley by the arm 

“Sorry about him, ma’am. I got him from here.”

She pulls him away without another word, heading toward the hallway off the packed waiting room. 

“Is she okay? Nat, is-“

“She’s fine, Rooster. Coming down from the adrenaline rush that the epinephrine gave her, but she’ll be okay.”

“What about-“

Nat stops in front of a closed door, lowering her voice. “Bradley. She’s okay.” 

He’s pushing past her before she even finishes, spotting you on the bed through the glass and half drawn curtain. You look so small amongst the crinkly white sheets, still in the clothes you wore to brunch. Your makeup is a bit smudged and your eyes are red and he hates to think that you were scared enough to start crying. You’re holding an oxygen mask in your hand at your side. 

“Hi baby.” Even your voice sounds more pitched. He’s quick to make it to your side. 

Your breathing is slightly elevated, and the heart monitor is beating a little bit faster than he thinks is normal. He grabs the hand holding the mask, placing it over your mouth to start providing you with the supplemental air again. You make a small sound of surprise, but take in a deep breath of it anyway before pushing his hand away. 

“I’m okay.”

But your hands are shaking and your eyes are wider than normal. The skin that he can see is splotchy with hives. 

He looks back at Nat, who is still hovering in the doorway, an eyebrow arched and a small smirk on her face. He ignores the look. “Can you grab a doctor?”

You protest from the bed, but Bradley doesn’t waiver. With a fond roll of her eyes, Nat disappears from view. 

“Bradley. Sweetheart.” You grip his wrist, trying to get him to focus on you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re in the emergency room because you went into anaphylactic shock. You are not fine.” 

“But I am,” you insist, smiling softly at him, even as your body trembles as it works to burn through the adrenaline that was injected into it, “medicine worked just fine.” 

The door slides open before he can respond, an attending doctor who looks like he’s been up for longer than is healthy and in wrinkled green scrubs introducing himself as he walks in.

“Is she okay?” Bradley demands immediately, and the tired man looks startled for a moment at how abrupt the question was. Bradley stares at him, his eyes wide and unblinking as he waits for the answer. His heart is still pounding in his chest. He feels you tangle one of your hands with one of his and he squeezes back when he feels the pressure from you. He knows you’re trying to reassure him. 

“And you are…?” 

“I’m her husband,” he answers easily, the words falling off his tongue like he had said them a thousand times before. You suck in a small breath and tighten your grip on his hand again. 

“Ah,” the doctor hums, flipping through the chart he’s holding. Bradley wonders if all non-military hospitals move this slowly or if it was just because of how anxious he is at this moment, but he really, really needs him to answer his question. 

“Is she okay?” he repeats. 

“Bradley,” you murmur, but he keeps his eyes trained on the man in the scrubs and white coat. 

“She responded well to the epinephrine that was administered by the paramedics who brought her in,” he finally says, looking up from the chart and taking a step toward your side. He stops when he sees that Bradley doesn’t move an inch. He sighs, switching direction to go to your other side instead. “How are you feeling Mrs. Bradshaw?”

You answer his questions as they come, Bradley paying rapt attention the whole time. Your throat doesn’t feel tight anymore. You aren’t lightheaded, but you do feel a little shortness of breath. You feel jittery - wired, almost. You’re both assured that it’s completely normal as the drug works its way out of your system. They can give you something to try and calm you down, and they want you to stay for a few hours to make sure you don’t go back into the allergic reaction once the epinephrine has worn off. The thought makes his blood run cold. 

“Should she stay overnight?” he asks, but the doctor shakes his head no. 

“The standard observation timeslot should be just fine, Mr. Bradshaw. But we’ll make sure you both know what to look out for when you leave.” 

He walks out without saying much else. Bradley feels you tug on his hand, his name leaving your lips in a whisper. He meets your gaze and he watches as your eyes soften even more. 

“Sit down, honey.” 

He listens to you, dragging the chair beside your bed as close as possible. He rests his elbows on the mattress beside you, holding your hand tightly between both of his. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your fingers and taking a deep breath. “I…this really scared me.” 

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say softly, running your thumb over one of the hands holding yours, soothing the skin and helping his racing heart. Your touch is like magic to him, providing an almost instant calm that he desperately needed. Guilt curled in his stomach, knowing that even now, you’re the one helping him. 

“I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.” 

“We comfort each other, baby. That’s how this works.” 

“Why didn’t you have your epipen on you, Pumpkin? Don’t you normally carry it?” he asks quietly, a touch of urgency still in his tone. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you were alone and this happened, with no one around to call 911. He could have lost you, all over a silly little bee sting, and he can’t wrap his mind around that. He just got you. He had had you, he knew. But he was just getting you back. 

“I switched bags this morning and forgot to take it out of the pocket of the old one, I guess. I haven’t had to use one since college. I forget about it, sometimes.” 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to rid himself of the worst case scenarios. He’s the one that normally reminds you to always have it on you, he thinks. He vaguely recalls having a spare in the glove compartment of the Bronco, and in the drawer in the kitchen and maybe one in the bedroom, too. 

Not for the first time, he curses his memory and the accident that took it from him. 

When he opens his eyes, his look is intense, “Never again, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, but Bradley shakes his head. 

“No. Promise me. Please?”

Your lips part and you stare at him for a long moment. His gaze never waivers from yours. He needs you to listen to him. To hear him. 

“I promise,” you finally whisper. 

He rises from the chair, pressing a kiss to your lips. He keeps his forehead against yours, breathing you in. 

“Will you lay with me?” You ask quietly, shy in a way reminiscent of when you asked him to say I love you on the porch all those weeks ago. He hates that you felt you even needed to ask. 

With no hesitation, he maneuvered himself into the small bed beside you. He kisses your forehead once, twice, three times, holding you as tightly as he could. Your body still gave the occasional tremble but they had lessened now, your breaths coming a little bit easier, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease. 

“Sorry for being a mess,” he whispers into your hair. 

“Don’t,” you whisper back, and he feels you shake your head from where it’s tucked into his chest. “It means you care.”

The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t say them, not yet or here. You deserve more than a frantic hospital room confession.

-------

Part Nine :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! We're nearing the end, but I think everyone is really going to like the next chapter. Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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[i-magines]

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 3

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6  | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9 | CHAPTER 10

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.  

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, eventual drinking and drugs, a little smut but nothing crazy (yet), a bit slow burn but not really.  

word count: 1,509

Over the first month, your friendship with Pedro only grew stronger. You were afraid once the production set was moved to the country, he was going to just disappear, as you were no longer roommates. You’d be lying to yourself if you said he didn’t make you feel anything, especially with how charming and flirting he was. You both had shared a lot of personal stuff over smoking joints and you were already used to hanging out together after a day of filming. But today things were going to be different, because the producers had organized a little happy hour for the crew.

Speaking of them, you had asked Pedro to keep your friendship on the low, at least during the job. You knew what everyone would say and think, mostly about you alone, so you were looking after yourself. He understood that and apparently didn’t care to be sneaking out like a teenager to spend some time with you.

“There you are”, Pedro happily greeted you on the corner of the happy hour room, about two hours into the event. “I almost didn’t get the chance to see you today. How’s everything going?”

At this point, you were certain the director hated you, but thank God he was the only one. Everyone else seemed to really like you and your work, which helped a lot with your anxiety.

“He spent the day trying to drive me crazy… Again”, you told Pedro. “You?”

“I would definitely rather be directed by you, if I’m being honest” he said in sympathy. “But yeah, it won’t take long for me to tell him to fuck off. Super nicely, of course.”

You both laughed. You could see he had been drinking and so did everybody in the room. Somebody turned up the music and Pedro dragged you to the improvised dance floor. You danced for about half an hour, until you saw him going to talk to Donna, one of the producers. They seemed friendly— too friendly, if somebody asked your opinion. You noticed it before, how close they acted sometimes, but at the end of the day, it was none of your business. Flo, the make-up artist that got you the job, got your attention and you walked to her.

“What’s up with that face?” She shot you the question. Flo was in her mid 40s and you got to know her in your first gig, since then she was always trying to connect you with people. You really liked her and, most importantly, trusted her. “You looked like you were about to commit murder on the dance floor. I know Dave is giving you a hard time, but honestly he is doing this to every single soul.”

“I was just wondering, is Donna taken?”, you asked as if you had no intention behind it.

“Yeah, I think so”, she told you. “Why? You gay too?”

“Someti— wait, what?” You stared at each other for a few seconds. “Is she?”

“As far as I know”, she said simply. “And by that I mean I’ve known her for about 10 years now. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, you didn’t. I mean, good for her, right.”

You decided you need to put your shit together now on. You excused yourself and went to get another drink — you can be a new woman tomorrow. You took some shots and got a drink to hold while you watched everyone dancing and having a good time. You tried to force yourself to stop thinking about your crush on Pedro.

“I need professional help”, you whispered to yourself.

“And why is that?”

“Shit, Pedro!” You jumped, realizing he was right by your side. “You scared the shit out of me, you shithead.”

“Wow, language, sweetheart”, he laughed at your reaction, putting his arm over your shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“Not much, just enjoying the free drinks”, you replied, also enjoying the proximity of his body. “I can see you’re enjoying them yourself.”

“Nah, I’m thinking about getting out of here, people are starting to get too drunk and God forbid I witness anything I can’t unsee”, he was being playful and seemed happy when he got a smile out of you. “Care to join me? Or you already have plans for tonight?”

“Yeah, you know me, Miss Popularity herself”, you both laughed. “Seriously, though. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Is it okay if we leave together? Considering your privacy policy”, he whispered in your ear. Only if he knew how weak that makes you. You just nodded. “After you, mi princesa.”

Fuck you, Pedro Pascal, you thought as you made the effort to move your shaking legs. Two options: first, he had no idea of his effects on you, or second, he did know that and he just liked to torture you. However it is, you were not willing to make a move to figure it out. 

The location of the shooting was a huge farm, so you walked together through the open field, towards his cabin. You got inside and took your shoes off.

“Hey, mister ‘I’m just a common worker as everybody else’, tell me again why exactly you are the only one with a private hot tube”, you teased him. He laughed. “Is it because you’re such good friends with Donna?”.

“So that’s what it was about back in the happy hour?” Pedro looked deeply into your eyes. “Such a jealous little girl, uh?”

You looked away, embarrassed. You can’t deny your brain formulated that sentence, but the alcohol spilled it out your mouth.

“Answering your question, I’m not really friends with Donna, but her partner is one of my closest colleagues in the industry”, he said in a patient tone. “And you’re welcome to use the hot tube whenever you feel like it.”

You could feel your cheeks burning. Fuck.

“I didn’t mean to— to be honest, I don’t even know what I meant, so don’t mind drunk Y/N”, you breathed out strongly.

“Why don’t we forget about it and instead go chill in the hot tube?” He offered you a smile. Pedro was so easy to deal with, always trying to make you comfortable. “I have more of that nice whisky you like.”

You quickly put on your bikini in your room and head back to Pedro’s cabin. You could hear the happy hour turning into a party on the back, as you joined him inside the tub. You did your best to not stare at his toned, tanned body. He was smoking a cigar and handed you a glass.

“You know what’s funny”, he started, you already knew you wouldn’t find it funny at all. “This is the second time I see you in a tub.”

“Well, fuck you very much sir”, you held a serious face before letting a smile scape. “That was traumatic.”

“Why is that? I would say you made quite an impression”, he laughed, something different sparkling in his eyes. “Would it bother you if I said I still think about it?”

You felt your body hot, as if the water was on boiling point.

“God”, you whispered. He never took his eyes off yours. “I don’t know what to say, Pedro.”

“It’s a simple question, sweetheart”, he replied, coming a little closer. You got chills all over your body. “Honestly, I don’t know if you only see me as this friendly, older, disgusting man—”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” you cut him before he could finish. “Feel free to think about whatever you like.”

“Good”, he said quietly, his body even closer, but still not touching yours. “Tell me what you were doing on the tub that day, sweetheart.”

“I-I was, uh,” you felt like you were about to explode, your brain trying to process if this was really happening. “I was touching myself.”

“Finally, princesa”, he let out a deep breath against your neck. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to hear you say this, to be sure my memory wasn’t fucking with me.”

He touched your waist with his hand, putting the cigar away with the other one. You felt delirious.

“What are you going to do now that you know?” The question popped out of your mouth.

He grabbed your arm to move your body, making you sit on his lap. Face to face. He was hard as fuck.

“I will take you back to your cabin, give you a goodnight kiss…” He made a pause. His stare was deep down your soul. “Come back to mine and think ‘bout you while I mind my own business.”

He was dead serious.

“I’m too horny to go to sleep”, you cried to him, all your blood concentrated between your legs. You moved on his lap, rubbing against his cook.

“Trust me”, he said as his hands firmly held your hips down, making you stop and yet feel him ever harder. “I feel the same way.”

He gave you a little forehead kiss.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

CHAPTER 4 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86​ (edit: i’m not sure why i wasn’t able to tag everybody i’m trying my best here)

[scar-lie]

I’m obsessed with your omega series<3

Omega Pt. 7 [Natasha]

Summary : They quickly rush Y/N and the twin to the medbay got quickly assisted by Dr. Cho and Banner, while they are waiting for Y/N to get out of Surgery, Natasha and Yelena got into a little argument and they didn't expect what they hear from Dr. Cho and Banner the news

Pairing : Alpha ! Natasha Romanoff x Omega ! Reader

Warning : Mention of Blood, Mention of attacked, Thought of violence, arguing,

Word count : 1,898

{OMEGA PT. 6} {OMEGA PT. 7} {OMEGA PT. 8}

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

"Get the fuck away!-"

"Get Dr. Cho and Banner-"

"Don't worry, we're here-"

""Clear the fucking way!"

"Oh my god, what happene-"

"Over here-"

All the words are muffled for Y/N, even the beeping sound on her head and the sound of the stretcher's wheel making a noise.

"Dr. Cho, she's opening her eyes." You don't know who said that 'cause your eyesight is getting blurry and you're in and out of consciousness, but you can outline the people around you, and even though you can't determine who's voice is who, all of them have their own opinions and keep talking.

You know Wanda, Natasha, Dr. Cho, Banner, Yelena, Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Tony are the ones who're wheeling you through the corridor, each voice echoing in your ear and making your head pound with pain.

Everything is blurry, and it's happening too fast for you; one second you're in pain, going through labor, and the next you're laying in your nest trying to stay awake and strong for your twin pups, and now here you are being wheeled somewhere you don't know, either in the hospital or in the medbay, until you lose consciousness.

Nat, go upstairs and clean yourself; it's going to be like... hours before she gets out of surgery," Steve said, worried for the redhead that's walking back and forth, anxious.

"No, I'm going to stay here; besides, the pups need me," Natasha said blankly while chewing her nails.

"We will take care of them while you shower; you're covered in blood, Nat; you can't look after them in your state for now." Wanda interfered, putting her hand on Natasha's shoulder and guiding her to sit down.

"N-no...no, I wanna be here when—" Before Natasha can finish her sentence, Yelena interrupts her.

"Just fucking go! That's the least you could do!" Yelena shouts, looking at Natasha across from her.

"You don't have the right to raise your voice on me! Remember, I'm still your head of— Natasha got interrupted again.

"A fucking useless head of Alpha, yeah, I know, if it wasn't for you, Y/N would have been fine! You shouldn't have marked her! mated her if you can't stand up as her Alpha that she deserved! You should have stayed away from her! Yelena gave her sister a death glare.

"Yeah, like you're a good and well-deserved Alpha! Remember, because of you, your mate nearly died by your own bare hands!" Natasha spat out, standing up, as does Yelena.

"That was a different story. Yelena tries to defend herself against the mistake she made years ago.

"Oh, really, 'cause as far as I know, she's your mission; you even sold her to her mother. Yelena wants to attack her sister, but luckily Clint and Bucky hold her back while Wanda, Steve, and Tony hold Natasha to attack her sister too.

"Get off of me; I'm going to show her what a real Alpha is!" Yelena is trying to break free, but the winter soldier is keeping her ground in her spot.

"Oh yeah, really? Let her be and see where you'll be going. Before Natasha can finish, Maria and Thor get in the scene with two cute pups in their arms.

"Stop it, you two! Aren't you embarrassed? Y/N is in surgery; Dr. Cho, Banner, and other surgeons are trying to save her life while you two are fighting. Maria scolds the two who stop breaking free but still look at each other with their death glare.

"Whatever's happening to you two, put it aside if you two can't be in the same room together! Y/N will be needing some support system, as were these two pups, Show some respect!" Maria added, then she looked at Thor, who was mesmerized by the pup in his arm.

The two are going to start arguing again, and when Wanda senses it, she quickly outsmarts them.

"If you two can't fix this out now, then the both of you should go leave this floor! The least Y/N and the pups need is you two fighting, so either figure it out and stay here or get out and don't come back until you two figure it out." Wanda snapped at the both of them, and they both shut their mouths and sat down on the bench in the hallway.

Good," Maria and Wanda said at the same time when they saw the two quickly behave well.

"Ca-can I hold them?" Natasha asked, looking at the pup in her arm with different emotions. Maria looked at Natasha.

"After you clean up, they are only hours old; the dirt and blood in your body could make them sick," Maria said firmly, and Yelena smirked, knowing Natasha would probably leave anytime soon now.

"But-" Clint quickly stops her.

"No buts, Nat, go and clean yourself; it's for yours and the pups safety. We will be here when you come back; they're not going anywhere, I swear." Clint patted her shoulder, but she's still unsure.

"Go Nat; you could use some fresh air and freshening up to clear your mind," Steve said to her, and she nodded, standing up and going up to her room to have a cold, needed shower.

"What have I done?"

The four words keep echoing in Natasha's mind while she's standing naked while the water runs down above her head, down to the ground, and down to the drain along with her salty tears.

She can't seem to move a single limp on her body; she feels numb. The scene keeps replaying in her mind.

"She's going to hate you."

"She will never forgive you."

"She's going to resent you."

"She'll never gonna let you near her and the pups."

It's like a devil that keeps whispering in her ears and blocking the angel's voice with their devilish sentence.

To Natasha, she's a monster who killed children and innocent people who asked for her mercy and is now causing her loved ones lives to be lost because of her careless decisions.

Looking down on her clean hands makes her feel sick. Even though she washes her body, especially her hands, multiple times, she can still mentally see the blood stain on her skin—a blood stain from her former mate.

Now that she thinks of it, Natasha has lost the right to be her Alpha. Now that their marks on their necks are perfectly gone, not even a single scratch of their mark can be seen.

It only means that her rejection of you is a success; she is now again an unmated Alpha who needs to look for an Omega, and so do you if you choose to look for one.

And the thought of you in someone's arm, wearing their mark, clinging to them, and going home in your nest with someone made her heart ache; she couldn't imagine how she could get past that without ripping their heads off.

Natasha, are you okay in there? It's been hours, and we're worried something will happen. " Natasha got out of her trace when she heard a knocking sound in the bathroom door.

"Ye-yes?" Natasha said back, enough for the person to hear from the other side.

"Are you ok?" Clint repeated, worried for his best friend.

"Yeah, Ye-yeah....yeah, I'm ok, I'll....I'll be out in a minute," Natasha replied, shutting the shower off and drying herself, applying necessity to her body and changing to a clean pair of fitted grey tank tops and black sweat pants without the garter on the ankle and coming down to her toes.

She then does a single braid to her hair so if she holds the twins, there's no hair falling to their faces that can cause a rash or itch. Then she comes out, looking at Clint with guilty eyes. Clint patted the space beside him on the bed, so Natasha sat beside him.

"Clint, I didn't—" Natasha stopped herself and bit her lower lip, trying not to cry again, so Clint patted her back and ran his hand up and down.

"I know........I know." Clint gave her a gentle smile.

"Yelena's right, I'm a fucking useless head of—" Clint quickly cut her off, not wanting to hear it.

"I may not know what happened between you two or why your sister wants to kill you, but I know who you are." Clint started looking at his best friend, who's clearly broken.

"You're the infamous Natasha Romanoff, a cruel black widow, the head Alpha, but a soft one, protective, caring, passionate, and protective to your people, especially to your loved ones. There's a reason why you're the head of Alpha besides Steve." Clint took her hand and squeezed it, giving comfort to Natasha.

"I'm not saying this because I'm on your side or on Yelena's side, but I'm saying this because you're my best friend, and I know what's going on in your head. Clint tapped her head with his pointer finger.

"You are worthy of your title, and to Y/N, we all know that you're not a cruel killer, you're not a monster. You're just a human Natasha. People make mistakes. Human Natasha and we're human. We made mistakes we didn't want nor intended. I know what you did to Y/N is not right, especially of what she's in now—I heard the side of the story of Yelena and Wanda." Clitn quickly said the last term, to make Natasha understand.

"But you have pups to look after, now that their mother is in surgery and in need of a lot of extra hands to take care of them. You need to step up and be there, even if Y/N don't want you to." Natasha has a small smile plastered on her face just at the thought of him saying her pups

"My pups," she whispers, but Clint hears it, and he can see a smile in her voice.

"How are they? and Y/N?" Natasha looked at Clint.

"Why don't you go and find out?" Natasha nodded, standing up with Clint and going back to the medical bay.

Once they entered the same hallway, they saw Banner and Dr. Cho get out in their scrubs. Once Natasha saw them, she quickly ran in their direction.

"How is she? Is she okay? h-how bad is her injury?" Natasha rambles, and the team is waiting too for the news.

"We've been able to get out another pup that has been stuck in her belly, which makes the pup weaker and needs to be examined and observed. We want to make sure that there's no birth defect. We also needed to open her up because she's hemorrhaging. We believe she fell or hit something with her belly, making her blood vessel rupture. She also dislocated her shoulder." Dr. Cho finished and looked at Banner, which makes Natasha get anxious, knowing there's something more.

"And did you see something or someone around the area?" Bruce asked. Natasha, Steve, Wanda, and Yelena look at each other.

"Yes, we didn't know who they were; we tried to chase after them, but they quickly vanished from our eyesight. Why?" Steve answered Bruce and put his hand on Natasha's shoulder.

"By her injury and deep wound, we believe she's been attacked....she has scratches, some deep, some not." Natasha clenched her jaw and fist, already planning many ways to kill the person who did this, and so was Yelena.

Taglist : @natashaswife4125 @fxckmiup

[angiesmagicspace]

Choi management

Pairing: idol boss San x fem reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst

Word count: 9,7K

Warnings: coworkers to lovers, boss-employee relationship, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, name-calling, squirting, POV switches

Summary: Being his assistant was both a dream and a nightmare , and you are ready to take everything he can give.

Authors note: This fanfic is almost three years old, when I first wrote it was about Harry Styles, so forgive me if some parts sound a little cringe. But I tried my best to rewrite it, and now I am really proud of it. I hope you like it

Masterlist

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“Honestly speaking, what do you think love is?” that's what he asked the first time we went to dinner. I was shocked, to say the least, but also speechless. I used to think about what love is, but I never found an answer to that question. Yet his brown eyes were glued to my face, still waiting for the answer, patiently looking studying my facial expression. I needed to say something, I mean, it would be really rude to leave him without an answer. “I mean..... it's a very complex question, but I think it’s an utter feeling of you as a person being complete, you know” he nodded happily it was like he was utterly satisfied with what he heard. I always knew San was an old soul, romantic just every woman's dream, yet he was alone. I truly didn't know why, such a perfect man yet so lonely. You are probably wondering what are we doing for dinner together, well I just finished college, and I was applying for a lot of jobs, one of them being San’s assistant. I had no problem doing that, it sounds like a lot of fun, although no job is fun, at least you can try to make it as fun as possible. Now that you know what's all this about, let's go back to our conversation. I was still kind of confused why is that so important to him like he would never hire me if I answered that question wrong if that's even possible. Soon we finished, he paid, and we went out “I will call you in a week and inform you about your possible new job, but I would just like to say that it was my pleasure to spend these few hours with you,” he said with a smile on his face. That made me blush, and I was hoping he didn't notice that.  “Thank you so much, but the pleasure is all mine, truly” he hugged me, and we parted ways.

I was slowly walking to my apartment that was nearby. I was smiling, even if I don't get this job, this will be my best memory. I entered my apartment, and the smell of vanilla brushed over me. I showered and then sat on my bed checking my emails one more time before sleep. And I had something to see, it was an email from his management. It made me more nervous than surprised. I slowly clicked on it while it was loading, I was more nervous than ever before. Carefully reading it, I realized that I was nervous for no reason. It was just a thank-you email saying that San had a wonderful time and that it was truly a pleasure. He really needs his word to be last, but that's fine, he is the boss here. I turned off my laptop and went to sleep, happy about the whole day.

My alarm went off at 8 am and I stood up, finished all my morning business, and went out to get breakfast and go to the gym. Training isn't something I enjoy, but I only do it for my health. After I went home to finish some work. There was no use in just sitting around doing nothing and hoping someone will call me. While waiting for someone to hire me, I work something that you can't define as a job. I help Instagram influencers with their feed. I spent like five hours helping multiple people with everything, and now I am just listening to some music while making some lunch/dinner for myself. While the music was blasting, I danced around, having a lot of fun. I sat down and ate what I made and texted Soyeon, my best friend and gym buddy, for a little just talking about where will we go tonight. We both agreed to first go for a drink and then go for a short walk. She texted me when she finished her job to start getting ready. I put on some jeans and an oversized dress shirt and a pair of sneakers. Soon I heard a doorbell, it was Soyeon, so I opened the door and hugged her. “Hey, girl, how are you? How was your dinner date with Mister Choi?” she smiled, excited to hear what I have to say. “First of all it was a formal dinner not a date, and it went pretty well I mean who am I lying it was amazing, he is such a gentleman.” I said remembering that night and how amazing it was. She looked at me in awe at how big I was smiling. “ Okay, enough about that, let's go out and have some fun,” I pulled her out of the apartment. We went to the nearest bar, as we entered a strong smell of alcohol and perfume showered us, we made our way to the bar and ordered two margaritas. We drank them just enjoying the music, after that we slowly started walking out, both of us had better plans than to be hungover tomorrow morning.

As we were making our way out, I noticed a familiar body just standing there, he turned around and his brown eyes almost immediately made contact with mine. He smiled, and I smiled back, feeling my cheeks blushing. He motioned for me to come to him, I taped Soyeon on the shoulder just telling her that I will be back in a second I am just going to greet San. She smiled giving me thumbs up yelling that she will wait for me. I just laughed and went to San. “Well hello my possible future assistant, here for a night out,” he said smirking. “ No, just for one drink and then home, not really in the mood for a hangover tomorrow,” I smiled. “Well it's nice to know that there are people like you, I am here with a few friends you know relaxing a bit,” he said still smirking, I am barely able to continue this conversation he is making me feel things I never felt before. “Have a good night, I got to go” I said smiling, turning around and waving at him. He just smiled, waving, and turning to his friends. I practically ran to Soyeon, so we can go out to just talk about how hot he is. The moment we were out Soyeon turned to me just waiting for me to start talking. As I caught my breath, we started walking and I started telling her everything. You could tell that she was amazed by my admiration for San, even though I applied for a job that considers me talking and looking at him every day the whole year round. As we were in front of my apartment, we hugged and said our goodbyes, and she wished me to get a call from him as soon. I went in, did my routine, and went to bed.

The next morning, my alarm went off, as I look at my phone, there was a text from San and an email from his team. I opened the mail first, slowly reading it, realizing I got the job. At first, I didn't believe it, but I read it again and again making sure that it was true I am not dreaming. I silently screamed. After a short silent screaming session was over, I opened San's text, he said to come to his office at 1 pm, so he can tell me everything I need to know before I start working full-time tomorrow. I replied to his text that I will come. This will be an amazing day, I thought to myself. I went through my basic morning routine. As I was back from the gym I started preparing for my meeting with San, I went through every possible scenario that could happen. Around noon, I went out slowly walking to his office. I needed that walk just to relax before I meet him. I entered a tall glass building, going straight to the counter. “Hello, I am here to see Mr. Choi,” I said to the lady. “You are his new assistant, right,” she said with a small smile. “ Yes, I am,” I said also smiling, just trying to be nice and leave a good impression. “Okay he is on the 5th floor take the elevator, good luck,” she said smiling. I smiled back, thanking her. I went to the elevators, clicked the button, waiting for one of them to come down. Finally, one of them arrives, I enter it clicking on number five just standing there trying to stay calm.

As the elevator door open I go out searching for his office, didn't need much time since his name was written on one of the doors. I breathed out and slowly knocked. “Come in” I hear a deep husky voice. I slowly open the door, entering. “Hello Miss Y/L/N and welcome to Choi management,” he said with a huge smile across his face. “I am glad to be here, Mr. Choi,” I said. “Call me San I don't mind, and I will call you.....” he looked at me wanting to hear my name “Y/N,” I replied. “Okay, Y/N so let's start with some basic things for coffee, I like Americano. When it comes to food, I am not very picky, so you can surprise me with whatever. When I tell you the time of the meetings I will expect you to be on time always” he explained. “ Is there anything else important to remember, Mr. Choi?” I asked. “Yes never call me Mr. Choi again I don't like it, also every Sunday I would appreciate having my schedule sent to me. Be ready to go to many events with me as my plus one.” he said very seriously, looking like it was so important to him that I remember that. “Okay, I wrote everything down, hopefully, I will not let you down on any of these things,” I tried to be as polite as possible. “ I believe you will do this job the best, but tell me one thing you should never do,” he said, smirking. “ I should never call you Mr. Choi,”  I didn't want to look too much comfy, it's not good for the job. He smiled, this smile, there was nothing like his smile, this man will be the death of me, truly. “So now that we went through all the basic things you need to know we can go out have some lunch and walk around a bit, I would like to get to know you better,” he said excitedly as a little kid. I slowly nod and start walking towards the doors with him.

We went to the elevators, and he pressed the buttons, waiting for one of them to come as we entered the elevator. I went to press the button, but he had the same intention. Our hands touched, and we both looked at each other, smiling but also blushing. I know why I am blushing, but I don't understand why he is blushing, there is no way he likes me. We both brushed it off and just stood next to each other, pretending as if nothing happened. Thank god we were fast out of that elevator “See you after lunch Irene” he said to the lady that welcomed me at the counter, she waved at us and we waved back. But there was one thing I found very strange, she was smiling like she is so proud of him going out on lunch with me, but I am probably just overthinking it. “So what made you apply for such a job, I mean nothing wrong with just asking,” he asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Well after college I didn't know what to do with life, so I just started applying for every job I can and yeah I am here,” I said trying to sound casual. “Well I guess I don't need to tell you my story, every person on this planet knows it,” he said laughing to himself.  “Everyone knows the public side of your story, but who is San Choi?” I asked looking at him, studying his face as it changes the moment he heard my question. “You know nobody ever asked me who is San Choi, I mean people don't care about who you are actually when everything that defines you is your career like I don't exist as a person.” he said, and you can hear a slight sadness in his voice. “I mean you don't need to tell me I am just an employee, you can easily replace me any time you want,” I said, realizing how replaceable I am for him which made me kind of sad. “Don't you ever dare to say that again, I am not some type of angry self-centered boss who will just go around and command people. Of course, I am going to tell you everything, I want you to look at me as a friend from work.” he said, sounding kind of hurt by what I said. “I am so sorry, sometimes I say really stupid things.” I said, wanting to apologize for hurting him. “It's okay I made a big deal out of it. Oh, here we are, this is my favorite place in town.” he opened the doors for me to walk in. This place is so beautiful, it has such a nice aesthetic, everything is beige and brown it's so cozy. I can see why he likes it so much.

The waiter approached us, walking us to a free table. We sat down and ordered some coffee to start. “This place is so charming, reminds me of some modern apartment,” I commented, amazed by his choice of places like this. “I know that's why I like it so much, makes me feel like I am alone at home.” he said,  being so proud of himself for choosing such a place. “It takes little things to make me smile,” he said, trying to make me talk about myself. “Oh, I feel you on that one, yesterday one of my neighbor's kids brought me one singular flower because he thought I was pretty,” I remembered that moment and how happy it made me. “Well that boy is not far from the truth, you truly are pretty and amazing, you are pretty amazing,” he complimented, making me smile. It's nice to hear such a compliment from someone who is that pretty. “Thank you so much, you are pretty amazing too, I admire your work and your songs, you inspired me since high school.” I said, watching him blush as he hears everything I say. “Oh, don't make me blush this hard we are in public,” he said giggling. “Why not show the world who you are,” as I said that the waiter came to take our orders, and both of us ordered a salad. We were soon done with the lunch, walking back to his office. While we were walking, he took pictures with some fans and talked with them for a bit. I found it sweet how much love there is from both him and his fans, it's like they live together. Some of them asked who I am, and he immediately and very proudly told them that I am his new assistant. Soon we were back in front of a big glass building saying our goodbyes and talking about tomorrow. “You know I haven't forgotten your question about who is San Choi actually, and I hope you will help me figure that out till then see you at work,” he said, wanting to sound both romantic and mysterious. He succeeded in being very mysterious and kind of romantic. But I still don't understand why is he like that to me, I am not that special, maybe he sees something more in me.

We both slowly walked away, he went back to his office and I went back home, still thinking about everything he said today. Before I went to bed, I did some work and prepared everything for tomorrow. As I was about to go to sleep I got a message, it was from none other than San. “Good night friend from work,” it made me smile at how sweet he is, I wrote good night back and fell asleep. In the morning, I was exhausted since I needed to wake up early to get ready and pick up coffee for San. As I was dressed, I went out to find the nearest coffee shop, so I can buy coffee for the two of us. When I found one, I went in rushing even though I had plenty of time. I started ordering, but the guy that was taking my order said that their coffee machine is broken. At that point, I was scared that I will be late or come to work without his coffee, so I went home and made some coffee at home. I poured it into some big unicorn thermoses, hoping that San likes unicorns. I packed everything and went running out, calling a taxi, so I would get there faster. I told the taxi driver that I am in a rush, and he immediately started driving as fast as possible. Soon I was in front of the Choi management, luckily San wasn't there yet. After what felt like an hour but was five minutes, I felt a hand on my shoulder I turned around, and there he was with some tall guy that I have never seen before. “ Good morning Y/N this is Jihoon, my bodyguard, he will be with us often, so you might want to get to know each other,” I shook hands with Jihoon smiling, he smiled too, but he was still very intimidating. “Nice to know that someone will keep you safe, here is your coffee I am sorry about the thermos they didn't have the coffee you love, so I made it at home.” I explained since you don't get coffee in unicorn thermos that often. He just smiled. “It's no big deal, these unicorns made my day,” he said, letting me know it was fine and that he is not mad. I felt a thousand times lighter, I was so worried about him being mad. “Let's go, it's time to start some work today, right?” he said, opening the doors. We went in, Irene greeted us, and we went into the elevator. Soon we were in his office, he was finishing some work on his laptop while I was making a schedule for this and next week. After a few hours, I was done with everything I had to do, and it was time to go pick up lunch for us. “I am going to go pick up lunch, do you have any special thing you want?” I asked just in case he wanted something special. “Whatever you have I will too,” I just nodded my head going out of the office. I also asked Irene if she wanted anything, and she just said whatever you find. I went to the restaurant we ate yesterday and ordered three salads with a side of baby carrots and hummus.

After they were ready, I went back, gave Irene her lunch, and then went back to the office to eat lunch with San while both of us finished some more work. “Thank you so much for this lunch, I was really in the mood for some carrots and hummus.” he said, satisfied while closing his laptop. “You are welcome, I finished your schedule for this, and next week I just need to finish a few things and I will send them tonight,” I said being so proud of myself for finishing all the work for today. “I just want the schedule for this week, I like to get surprised on Sunday when I see what's for that week,” he said, packing his stuff. We stood up and went to the elevators going down, saying goodbye to Irene and leaving the building. “Well, see you tomorrow, first here then at the studio.” he hugged me, making me feel so small since he was taller. “Goodbye, San, have a nice night,” I said, slowly pulling away from the hug going away. I went on a long walk, just feeling so happy about this new job. As I was near the river, I got a call from Soyeon. She just asked how is the job, and we talked for like an hour. When I was in front of my apartment we finished the call, I went in and unpacked my things, and that's when I realized my thermos wasn't there. I guess I just left mine at the office. I drank some juice and then went to the bathroom to finish everything. While I was showering my shower playlist was playing but in the middle of my shower music got silent for a second which meant I got a text. I just assumed it wasn't that important, so I just continued my shower. When I was done I checked my phone and saw it was a message from San, at that moment I regretted not looking at my phone when I got the message. But as I entered the chat, I started laughing. It was a picture of my thermos filled with water with the caption “Guess I stole this from you, so now it's mine sorry not sorry” he likes making me laugh and smile. “It's all yours now to make you smile every day,” I wrote back. I got into my bed, checking his schedule once more and putting it in unicorn theme, trying to be as funny as him. I just sent it to him, and not long after that I got another text from him saying that from now on every schedule needs to be in some funny theme. I agreed with him and sent a good night text. After almost an hour of me just rolling around the bed, I turned my computer on and opened Netflix, trying to find something to watch before bed. After a very long search, I played some trashy show I never watched, and as soon as it was on I fell asleep. 

My alarm started blasting. I hate waking up this early, but as soon as I was out of bed, remembering that I have the best job on this earth, I was okay. Since San stole my thermos today, I decided to buy tea, not coffee. I went to the café that was two streets away from my apartment. I ordered some tea, soon as it was done I paid for it and headed to the office. Irene told me that San was already up in the office, I just thanked her and went up. “Morning San here is your tea since you stole my thermos, and I am not such a cruel person to buy coffee you don’t like,” I said slightly laughing the same as him. “I am sorry okay didn't mean to do it but since I did the crime is done and the unicorn thermos is now mine,” he said laughing taking his tea. We were both working on our laptops for two hours, and then it was time to go to the studio. I packed all my stuff, but he was still really focused on his laptop, “I will wait for you down in the lobby” he just nodded his head, eyes glued to whatever was on his screen. I went down, chatting with Irene, just killing time till he comes down.

San's POV

Damn, everything she says is so perfect. Even the most simple things from her mouth sound like honey dripping from her lips and going right into my ears. When we first met in that restaurant, I knew there was something about her that will make me fall in love with her. When I asked her what love is I thought she will just say an emotion but what she said surprised me. I knew she was a special one-of-a-kind one, but I never knew she was that perfect. She probably doesn't even know how perfect she is. I noticed when she started packing, I knew very well that it was time to go to the studio, but I was so focused on the screen because I was looking at her Instagram page and I had my word tab open just in case I get an inspiration. Well, little did I know she will inspire me to start writing something. Of course, I will show it to Hongjoong and the rest of the crew as soon as she leaves to get lunch for us. As I realized it was 30 minutes since she left, I packed everything and went down. There she was standing by the counter just talking with Irene, looking perfect without any effort. Irene noticed me, but I motioned her to not say anything, I wanted to admire Y/N's beauty. After a couple of minutes just standing there, I went to them. Y/N and I walked out of the building and entered my car. Jihoon was in the backseat, I know what a joke such a man sitting in the back like a toddler. But I wanted to be close to Y/N as much as possible. The radio was playing, and she was having a tiny dance party in her seat, but I decided to turn the volume up and join her. I mean, it must be a lot of fun, she looks like she is enjoying it. I started singing at the top of my lungs she just looked at me smiling so much, I can see that she enjoys this job as much as I enjoy her company.

Y/N's POV 

He is having the time of his life, singing and driving. I truly enjoy this as much as he does, sadly as we were having so much fun we were right in front of the studio. Jihoon opened his door first, then San opened the door for me. “What a gentleman, thank you, San,” I said, watching him smile like he just won a Grammy. “Everything for my assistant,” he said while giving me my stuff. We entered the studio, and everyone was already there, since we were about an hour late. He excused us, and everyone was fine with that. I sat on the couch while all of them were working on songs and new singles. I was working on my laptop for a while then I went to buy lunch for everyone, San insisted that I pay with his card. At first, I was stubborn and didn't want to take it, but he insisted, even Hongjoong told me that he won't give up. I went out walking around with Jihoon, chatting and trying to find someplace to buy food. “You know he likes you, right?” Jihoon said, looking down at me. “That is a nice joke you like to stand up.” I said laughing, obviously not believing what Jihoon said, I mean he is Choi San I am just his assistant, not the prettiest person that walked this earth. “Y/N, I am only joking when I am drunk, and I can tell you I don't have a single drop of alcohol in my blood. He never does things like this you know singing at the top of his lungs while driving, I mean he doesn't even like driving his car” Jihoon said trying to convince me that what he said it's true. “Jihoon, you know him better than I do, but people like to do some things sometimes maybe today was one of those days for San,” I said ignoring everything Jihoon said, I just simply can't believe that someone like San can like me. “Y/N, he texts you goodnight every night, yesterday he purposely stole your thermos he tells me everything. Remember when you two were at dinner just meeting each other he told me everything about you, every night while I am driving him home he just talks about you” he said, and now I don’t even know what to say, but luckily I found a place to buy food. I ordered everything they told me to. Then we started walking back to the studio, “You know Jihoon it's hard for me to believe you, just because he is San Choi, and I am me”  I told him admitting everything I was thinking about. “It is okay, just give him time, I believe he will tell you all of this very soon, I know,” he told me as we were entering the studio. I gave everyone their food, we ate, then worked some more. At about 8 pm, San thanked everyone, and we went out to his car. “I will drop you off just tell me your address,” San said, but I can't let him do that, I am not ashamed about where I live, but he is still my boss. “You don't need to, just drop me off at the office, I will walk home,” I said, trying to avoid eye contact with him. “It's pretty late and there are creeps everywhere I will drop you off just tell me your address,” he said sounding like he is my dad, not my boss. “Okay, I will put my address in GPS,” I said, writing my address in. Soon we were on the way to my apartment. I looked at Jihoon in the rearview mirror, and he was looking at me with I told you so look, and I truly hated that he was right about everything he told me today. Soon we were in front of my building, I took my stuff and said goodbye to them.

As I was trying to find my keys, I felt someone standing behind me. I turned around and of course, it was San, who would it be. “I….. I…..just wanted to say good night and see you tomorrow” he said nervously like I am the celebrity here and not him. “Good night to you too see you tomorrow.” I said, turning around and slowly entering my building. “I love you” he whispered as the doors were closing, probably thinking I didn't hear it. But was he wrong about that, I heard everything, and it made me feel butterflies in my tummy.  When I entered my apartment, I texted Jihoon telling him that he was right and for sure wasn't joking. Of course, he answered with I told you calling me dumb in seven different languages. After my shower, I just laid in bed thinking about everything, but soon I fell asleep trying not to think about it anymore. In the morning, I was awake an hour before my alarm rang, thinking about the dream I had last night. It was about San, it's been a long time since I had a dream like this one. To be exact, I stopped having dreams like this since my freshman year of college. We all know what kind of dream it was, the one dream you only tell your closest friend and nobody else. I can tell that today will be extremely hard since we have a whole day in the office, just two of us. But I needed to get ready and go there, like it or not. I again bought a tee for us and went to the office.

We didn't talk too much. I mean I know why I am not talking but what's up with him, he didn't even tell a single joke since I came. It's like he also has something he is ashamed of, like he had something to hide. I will not think about it that much. I strictly focused on the work as nothing else existed. For some reason, both of us stayed in for lunch break. I mean I packed fruit salad for me and him, I ate mine, but he was still untouched on his table. Maybe today he is not willing to eat fruit, I don't know. “Do you want anything else, you don't need to eat the fruit salad, I just thought to make it for both of us.” I said, trying to get him to tell me something, just anything. “No, no the salad is just fine, I am just not that hungry right now. I will eat it later I promise.” he said, giving me the simplest answer, he wasn't in the mood for talking. I understood that.

I worked some more, when all of a sudden he sat on the chair on the opposite side of mine. “I want to take you to dinner tonight you know, consider it a business dinner.” he said, looking me right in the eyes, trying to find his answer in them. “Okay fine, I will just need time to get ready,” I said all nervous, I mean more alone time with him would be just perfect but still, I am nervous about it. “Fine pack your things I will drive you to your place, so you can get ready,” he said already helping me to pack everything. He just closed his laptop, and we were on our way to his car. Jihoon was with us of course, I mean San is still famous. Soon I was in my apartment standing over a pile of clothes, not knowing what should I wear. When I get a text from Jihoon, he told me that he knows what was going on and that I should wear a black dress or something like that. Wow, San tells him everything. He helped me with this because I had just the dress for this. A silky, black, knee-length dress is truly a perfect thing for an event like this. I was ready waiting for a message or something from San, suddenly I heard a horn in front of my building it was him. He was standing there in a beautiful black suit, looking like a piece of art from a museum. I went down as I opened the door, he looked at me up and down, admiring me and my dress. He put his hand out for me “Shall we, my lady” he asked smiling so big. I nodded my head, entering his car. Soon we were in front of a fancy-looking restaurant. We went in he was holding my hand, I know a little strange for a business dinner but fine I don't have anything against it. The waiter took us to our table where we ordered first some wine, of course, he was choosing to call himself a wine expert. I just laughed at the name he gave himself.

“So, what do you think about your new job? I mean probably too soon to ask, but I would like to change the things you don't like.” he said looking interested in what will I say, he truly likes to take care of everything. “I like it, it's so fun, I mean a lot of people don't find their job fun, but I do have a lot of fun working with you. But there is something I would like to change if possible,” of course I hesitated, maybe he will be hurt, but I need my own office and I know for a fact that there is free space in the building for that. “What is it, something about me, was someone rude to you, I will fire that person whoever it is.” he was extremely worried about it, I knew this was coming, but I really require my own space, and probably he requires it too. “No, no everyone is so nice to me believe me you have the nicest employees ever, but I wanted to ask you for my own office, both of us need a little bit of privacy.” I said, but he was sad about it, like I said I don't want to work for him anymore.

As he was about to say something the waiter interrupted us, he needed to take our orders, but he was soon gone. “I understand that, but I just want to know is it because of me, did I make you uncomfortable?” he was so worried like he cared about me and my feelings. “San, you never made me uncomfortable, I just think that both of us need to have some sort of real boss-employee relationship, right now it is not really like that. I didn't say this to sound mean or ungrateful.” I said still worried about what he thinks about this. “No, you don't sound mean Miss Y/L/N I understand tomorrow I will make sure you have your office on the same floor is that fine with you Miss Y/L/N,” he said really cold but also very hurt, but he wasn't the only one that was hurt now. It's not about that he called me Miss Y/L/N, but he was cold and kind of rude for the first time since I met him. I was on the verge of tears, I am not this emotional, but this slapped me across the face. “Yes, it is fine with me Mr. Choi,” I said trying to sound as normal as possible since my eyes were full of tears by now. But he also looked so hurt when I said Mr. Choi he looks like he truly regrets being this cold to me. I just excused myself and I ran to the bathroom, my tears were running down my face, this truly and deeply hurt me. Soon I calmed myself and fixed my makeup and went back to the table. Our food was there, well, I took my time in the bathroom. “Everything alright Miss Y/L/N?” he asked professionally “Just fine Mr. Choi,” I said low, just trying to not cry again. I sat down, and we ate, I took only three bites since I really couldn't eat after everything, I mean I cried like five minutes ago. On the other side, he was having a feast, enjoying every bite of his pasta. We both paid, since he wants to have a boss-employee relationship. We were out of the restaurant and I slowly started walking just thinking about how to get home, I mean it was dark, and I am dressed like I was at some party. I don't want to end up with people saying that I asked for it. I was still in the same street walking slowly, I just wasn't in the mood to rush home. “Hey just because we have some different rules now doesn't mean I will not drop you off home, I am not a cruel animal to do that you know that Miss Y/L/N” he yelled from his car slowly driving next to me. I looked up at him, eyes full of pain, tears rolling down my cheeks, I was not able to get a single word out of my mouth. When he saw me he turned off his car, getting out of it as fast as possible, it took him only two steps to come to me. He hugged me holding me so tight, that was my breaking point, I hurt him and myself just because of a stupid thing I thought I needed. I was crying, and he was just holding me in his arms so strongly like he is about to lose me. We needed to go into his car since fans and paparazzi were yelling taking pictures of us. We were in the backseat, and Jihoon was driving. “Everything is ok Y/N I am so sorry for being so rude and cold, I never wanted to make you feel like this I am so sorry.” he whispered into the hair that was covering my ear. I just looked at him, trying to get some words out of my mouth, but nothing was coming out. He just told me to relax and that everything was alright. When we were in front of my building, he didn't let me go. He carried me to my apartment, not wanting to let me down for a second. When we were in my apartment he let me down on my bed “I am fine now Mr. Choi, you don't need to stay with me” I said assuring him that I was truly fine. “Foremost San I don't ever want you to call me that, second this was a really hard night for both of us I will stay with you, I will sleep on the sofa,” he said looking at me with his loving eyes. “Okay, San, I will find something for you to wear and some pillows and blankets,” I said, going out of the room to find everything. He went into the bathroom to shower, and while he was showering, I prepared everything.

Soon he was out of the shower with just his underwear on. It was pretty hard to not just stare at him. “Here is everything you need, I just don't have anything for you to wear except my shirts, but they probably do not fit you,” I said, trying to keep eye contact with him. “It's okay, I don't mind sleeping like this, thank you so much,” he said laying down on the sofa trying to get comfortable. I went to shower too, as I was done I went into my room laying on the bed having trouble falling asleep again for the millionth time. I decided to go to San and baldly ask him to come and sleep with me. At this point, I couldn't care less, he was already in my living room in underwear. “San can you come to sleep in my room I can't sleep,” I said low just looking at him, he was also fully awake, there was something in the air that was keeping us awake. “Yeah, sure, I also can't sleep,” he said getting up, taking the pillow and blanket. We both lay in the bed, at first on opposite sides, but soon he brought me to him, hugging me. I felt so safe and peaceful. Soon we were both asleep.

San's POV

She is finally in my arms, her hair is soft and smells like cherries and her body is so tiny. I can't believe this is what's happening right now. After I made her cry and let her feel guilty for hurting both of us, this is exactly what I needed to do. Hug her, fall asleep with her, and make her feel safe and loved. While I was on the sofa I was thinking about her wanting her own office and I mean she is right both of us need some private space, before her, I was always in my office alone, Irene would come from time to time, but that's it. I did everything in that office I was there happy, sad, drunk, sober, even horny, and at some point. I miss that, but also she makes me feel good when she is there with me, I feel less lonely. I always felt lonely even though there are a lot of people around, nobody made me feel less lonely like she did. She truly made me feel like I have somebody besides Jihoon. But also the other day it was truly awkward both of us were silent, I know why I was. That morning while I was just lying in my bed I thought about her in a way I never should have, but let's just say not long after that thought I needed new sheets for my bed. I still can't help but wonder what made her that silent, for sure it wasn’t even close to what made me silent. Anyway, I need to stop thinking and sleep I still have work tomorrow, or maybe we don’t need to go to work tomorrow we can stay in or have a day for ourselves. Enough San time to sleep, not to make things awkward because of your thoughts. That stupid alarm is still ringing, I thought as my head was buried in the pillow. I just hate mornings, they are the absolute worst part of the day. I want to get up and get stuff done, but my brain just wants to rest all day. Suddenly the alarm stopped, that's new who is in my apartment this early. And then it hit me I am in her bed, covered by her blanket still laying on her pillow. I slowly lifted my head, seeing her just sitting on the edge of the bed, probably trying to wake herself up.

Y/N's POV

I was just sitting on the edge of the bed trying to wake up, I would like to just lay down again and spend my whole day laying and cuddling with him. Last night was one of the best nights ever. I fell asleep in his arms and woke up still in his arms. I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn't realize that I am again laying in bed and not sitting. Just as I wanted to get up again and start getting ready I felt his arms around my body slowly bringing me closer to him. “Good morning sunshine” he whispered in my ear, his morning voice so deep and husky like music to my ears. “Good morning to you too San, thank you for staying last night, it made me feel better” As those words were out of my mouth he pressed me closer to him. The only things that were separating us now were his boxers and my pajamas. That's the moment I was so scared of, being so close to him made me remember every sinful dream I had about him. But it seemed like I wasn't the only one with sinful dreams and thoughts. His morning wood was getting harder every second. Even though I thought of him in this way, this was scary but also so good. “You know we can just spend this day together with no work just me and you wherever you want” he was still whispering, and for a second I thought about it but no I can't do this not now not today. “San we have work to do, and you have meetings today and I can't cancel them now” I tried my best to ignore his dick pressing on my ass it was almost impossible. Even though I tried my best to stay calm, someone was excited to be this close to him. I hate when my brain can't control the sudden wetness in my underwear. “You can't cancel them, but I will make sure to cancel them and make today all about you” he was stubborn about his decision to stay with me all day. “We need to go,” I said, escaping his arms and going to the bathroom. I heard him groan behind me, which made my legs weak, and I almost fell. I went into the shower, just letting the water relax all the tension in my body. I wasn't sure what to do, so many thoughts were running through my head. I mean he is my boss, and I am his assistant, but on the other hand, even though I wasn't working for him for so long we succeeded to make a really strong bond with each other. It was almost like I knew him and he knew me since day one.

My endless thoughts were interrupted by his gorgeous singing from the kitchen. I quickly finished my shower and put on my bathrobe with only panties underneath. As soon as I entered the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee filled my nose, which woke me up. One thing that made me even more awake, was the sight of San in just his boxers, his back muscles were moving so slowly yet firmly. It wasn't just the way he looks that made him this attractive, there is something much more, every time he enters a room all the attention is drawn to him, no matter male or female. 

I slowly approached him from behind, trying to stay as far away, so I don't touch him, but as close, so I can smell his washed-off perfume. “So have you decided are we staying together and spend a day together, or you do want to work,” he asked mocking the way I told him we have to work. For a moment I got lost in his eyes, those two caramel browns were so mesmerizing and relaxing to look at. “Princess we don't have a whole day you need to decide faster, it's not so complicated do you want to sit in the office all day and look through thousands of boring papers or do you want to spend a day with me. If I were you I would choose the second option sounds more fun and entertaining” he said sounding a little arrogant, I mean he isn't wrong, but he doesn't need to flatter himself so much. “San you are very well aware of the fact that we can't just be friends we are coworkers, and it doesn't look professional for both of us to be this close” These words left my mouth, but my thoughts were very different, I wanted to spend a day with him, I wanted to be friends, even more, hell I wanted him fuck me till I forget who I am and where I live. It just felt safer to sound responsible and then see where he goes, than just jump in his arms and show him how much I want us together. “Oh sweet innocent Y/N doesn't act all squeaky clean, both of us know that you have thought of me in a very filthy way. I know exactly why I didn't give you your own office. Thought you would figure it out by now, but I guess that's not the case” he said slowly his voice so low, moving towards me and pushing me against the counter, my cheeks were burning at this point my panties soaked in my arousal, my nipples got hard in a matter of time. I barely contained myself from taking off my robe and his boxers and giving him and me what we both desired. “ I…… San this doesn't feel right, we work,” my sentence was interrupted by his soft plump lips kissing me. As soon as I felt his lips on mine, my brain went off, I couldn't think straight, the only thing on my mind was telling him everything I want him to do to me. He slowly pulled away, breaking the kiss and looking at me with soft eyes.  “Look at you, for someone who doesn't want this so bad, you are one needy baby. I like it, you are stubborn but greedy for the things you love and need.” he chuckled, making me even hornier, if that was even possible. His hands slowly separated my robe, ghosting over my inner thighs. He started rubbing me over my panties, just acknowledging how wet I am. “So wet but nothing happened yet, do I turn you on this much or is it some crazy fantasy about me that you created while in the shower.” I couldn't answer, my mind too foggy to create a thought. The only things that left my mouth were silent moans and whines. As he started rubbing faster, I couldn't contain myself, I started grinding on his fingers. “Ah, ah, sweetheart, you are not going to get everything you want easily, you ignored me this morning and put work in the first place now it's my time to get revenge. First, we will drink this coffee, and then we are going to order some food for my apartment, I will call Jihoon he will drive us there and then maybe just maybe you will get the pleasure you want or should I say need.” After those words left his mouth I took my cup of coffee as fast as possible, I drank it all in a few minutes not wanting to look too needy. He just smiled lightly at the effect he had on me, but he was powerful I can't deny it, if he told me to get on my knees right this second I would without any second thoughts.

On the way to his apartment, the car was silent. Only music and Jihoon’s hums were heard. Both of you in the backseat squished together like there wasn't enough room. His hand was on your thigh, inching closer every second. When he got too close to your pussy, you just glared up at him, trying to get him to stop. Having someone watch did sound arousing, but you didn't want that someone to be Jihoon. You appreciate the man too much to do something like that in front of him. Soon enough, you were in front of a tall building that looked very luxurious. As soon as the car stopped, you were running to the building's entrance, with San right behind you. “Slow down, doll. You don't even know where to go,” his reminder made you realize that you may seem too desperate. But that wasn't far from the truth, ever since his fingers left your pussy, you craved him even more. As soon as the doors of the elevator closed, his lips were on yours, one of his arms holding your leg up. He ground his dick on your pussy, making you even wetter.

When the elevator hit the floor of San's apartment, it opened with a little ding, signaling that you arrived. One thing you didn't know was that San lived in a penthouse, so the elevator is literally in his apartment. He pushed you inside the apartment as he continued to kiss you. The food he ordered was on the table, and it smelled delicious, but it wasn't your or his priority right now. He brought you to his room, pushing you on the bed. While he was taking off his clothes, you started taking off yours. And there you were, both naked, just admiring each other like you were pieces of art. “I knew you are hot, but damn princess. You naked, that is a piece of art right there,” he commented while kneeling in front of the bed. He pulled you by your legs to the edge of the bed, first, he licked your pussy, and then he started sucking on your clit. This action made you throw your head back with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Taking the chance while you were distracted with the pleasure, he pushed two of his fingers inside your pussy. While his other hand squeezed your boob, pinching your nipple. This surprised you in the best way possible, you started moaning his name over and over again. “That's right doll. Show everyone who is fucking you this good,” his fingers fastened their pace while hitting your G-spot just right. When he felt your walls contracting around his fingers, he immediately pulled out. Stealing one precious orgasm from you. You pouted at him, but he didn't say anything, he just pushed his dick inside you. Continuing with the brutal pace that he set with his fingers. He was huge, to say the least, every time he pushed inside it felt like he was in your stomach. Shaking, you looked down, seeing a tiny bulge pop out every time he pushed inside. Moaning, you took his hand, putting it on your lower belly for him to feel the effect he had on you. Confused, he looked down, and then it was time for him to roll his eyes. “My precious little princess is so tiny. I can't even fit inside your pussy without it showing,” all this felt like too much. You felt your orgasm nearing, which also San felt. He started slamming inside of you even faster than before, trying to get you both to your orgasm. “Come on doll, cum with me, milk me dry.” and that's when you let go of that pressure in your lower belly. The orgasm was so strong that it made you black out for a minute. You couldn't see anything, only feeling San's heavy body falling on top of you and his kisses on your forehead. When you came back to your senses, that's when you felt the wetness beneath you, but you didn't question it too much. However, the embarrassment hit you when San stood up, his whole stomach was covered with some liquid. “You are full of surprises, princess. Never pegged you for a squirter, but I'm not complaining,” he commented, while slowly pulling out. He went away for a second, probably to the bathroom. You climbed up his bed, just laying there. And that's when the realization hit you. You just had sex with your boss, and slowly panic started to rise inside you. You wanted to run, but your body was frozen in place. That's when San came back into the room with a damp towel and a bottle of water. He cleaned you up carefully, then he sat down beside you, opening the bottle. He probably saw panic written all over your face. “Princess, I know what you are thinking right now. And I need you to stop. You will not get fired, as your boss can a hundred percent guarantee that. The only thing that will happen now is that you will be promoted to my girlfriend, if you agree of course.” he whispered softly while stroking your hair. His words gave you peace of mind, although I hope to do well in my new position,” you said, smiling, which made him smile and give you a soft kiss.

[writing-whump]

Been here for a while, enjoying your fics. ❤️

Could you consider to write something including post - concussion emeto? Maybe with Matthew, because who else would be hit 😅

Greetings,

A.

Hello A.! I'm so happy you are enjoying yourself, that's super sweet! ❤️ Thank you so much for the request! Ran away from me a little but includes what you wanted :D I'm very honoured.

This one's crying, the other's sick

Seline is upset and crying. Matthew comforts her, when it turns out he came home with a concussion.

There will be no direct trains because of construction work. You can take the bus and the train connection, but we can't guarantee your way if either is delayed.

Just great. Exactly what she needed for the travel home to see her parents.

Seline knew she was freaking out for no reason. This fact didn't make it any easier to not do it.

Her life has always been divided into two places. Bratislava and Vienna. Home and school, parents and friends, Slovak and German.

She knew and her parents knew that her life was heading into the direction of Vienna - more money, more prestige, the use of languages. Slovakia was a nice home, but everyone who had any sense, ambition and knew just a bit of English moved out for college and never returned.

But Seline doubted as many people had such a good relationship with their parents. That's why she wasn't moving out even after 10 years of travelling. She even felt sorry for all her classmates and colleagues, many of which had to move to Vienna at 18 for university. Without parents and roots and childhood friends. Independence and adult responsibilities. Or were they proud of it? Was it a good thing they couldn't be children for that long?

When she asked her friends from countries farther away, like Bulgaria or Italy, they said it was fine. That they couldn't imagine living with their parents again or still. That it was nice to live alone.

Maybe they just didn't like being around them as much as Seline. Having such close relationship with your own mother was from what Seline could see, quite the exception. Her mother was her most trusted friend, her confidante, her idol and advisor. Seline's friends didn't call their mothers for two hours a day and they didn't visit every weekend and they didn't...

Seline wouldn't have moved out if it wasn't for the fights with her younger brother. And because she got good work at the university as an assistant, but that was running out. Every year was a risk of not getting the contract prolonged. She considered studying another master degree, cause as long as she was a student, they were more likely to keep her. Graduated non-students were more expensive because of taxes. PhD students were the most risky, cause they go no funding without an actual job at a project or faculty. And those were all temporary, only for a limited amount of years. Not to mention the law in Austria that you couldn't work at the same university more than 8 years on temporary contracts, which was supposed to protect university staff. Except the universities, instead of employing people without temporary contracts, didn't employ them at all, until they came with a few years of foreign experince. Go for a two years to England. Or France. Or anywhere else. Uproot yourself and maybe we will get you back.

Very family friendly.

So it somehow happened that Thursday morning she found out that her train for Friday to visit her parents would take 1.30h instead of 50 minutes and because the bus could be late and the train that you should change after wouldn't wait in the case it was, meant she would be straned somewhere in Parndorf.

So she would have to take the train before, that was direct and safe, which meant she would travel for an hour earlier, miss the connection she would have if the train were normal, wait two hours at the main station in Bratislava to get to her parents house. Her house. Whatever it was.

This would normally not anger her to the point of tears, but it was about a week before her period, so PMS was hitting her hard.

She didn't want to go to the train sooner. Or wait at the station because she missed the direct beautiful train that would get her to the home town near Bratislava.

She could take a taxi and pay more. Or take her own car. But Seline hated driving. It was stressful and fearsome and horrible responsibility and each bigger car or faster driving car made her jump in her seat in deadly fear. Her father would scoff at her for being so panicked about it. That she should drive more to get rid of it.

Well. Because of the fear, her main goal was not to drive.

Either with time with the train, with money with the taxi or with effort and nerves with the car. Nothing was for free.

She left her car at her parents anyway. Didn't need it in Vienna with all their great public transport connections. It was a relief she didn't gave to consider going with a car and no one could guilt her into using it.

She had two roomates who liked driving and cars. But she couldn't exactly ask them for a 1 hour long drive on the highway to Bratislava to see her parents.

Isaiah didn't complain about her visiting her parents during weekends. Since their schedules at university weren't packed, they had most Mondays free and other days during the week with only one seminar or online class here and there and could be together.

Seline loved not having to commute. To stay in bed until 11, talk with Isaiah over lunch, take a walk in the park or by the river and go to a seminar at 5 in the evening, meet with friends after or a bit before. Leisure nice days. Working 8-5 terrified her. She loved the flexibility, the way she could rule her time, do homework or write essays whenever she felt like, write stories and her poems whenever she was inspired, listen to music till 2 in the morning or binngewatch series all evening.

Though evening were usually reserved for movie nights with the whole trio. She loved those too.

Standing between two worlds was always a trait of hers. Something she was at peace at. But deciding between one home or the other, one city or the other and the time between pained her still, or even more so, after 10 years of back and forth.

If she could just buy that two generational house somewhere close to Vienna, on the fringes of the city and have them all there. Travel would take 20 minutes with the subway, her parents and her pack would be at the same place and they could have a view on the fields and not on the people and noise filled buildings of the city...

Except her parents still worked in Bratislava, and her grandmother and her uncle lived there and their families lived there and...and her parents didn't even speak German.

She could go back and live in Slovakia. She would get a high paid job just for speaking German and English so well. Lots of her friends from primary school did that. Those that didn't leave for France, US, Belgium or as far as Australia, that is.

She never saw her future in Bratislava. Not with the communist looking buildings and shabby streets and corrupt government and horrible health care. But she grew up around fields, open sky and on the train. City life was culturally shocking.

Seline walked back and forth on her floor, stamping her feet in anger. She let the frustrated tears loose, no one was home. Updating her train app if the connections didn't change after all didn't bring any new results for the 5th time.

She ended up in the hall, by the stairs, leaning against the wall. Today was a good day to wallow in self-pity as any. Hugging her knees, she cried quietly, half-realizing she was just being dramatic and the situation wasn't half as bad as her riled up emotions would have her believe.

"Whoa, hey. Are you crying for real?"

Seline almost jumped out of her skin at Matthew's tone, shooting up to her feet. "W-what are you doing here?!"

Matthew stood on the last step of the steps next to her. His knuckles were still wrapped in white bandages, so must have been boxing and returned sooner. He was gripping the railing tight and looked pale and tired, but the sarcastic tone and raised eyebrow chased her worries away. "I live here. Duh."

"T-that's my floor." She hurriedly rubbed at her face to get rid of the moisture. "I didn't hear you arrive."

"You were...preoccupied," Matthew said dryly. "So what's up? Did something happen? Should I go beat someone up?"

Seline chuckled despite the tears and her emberassment for him to catch her like this. "No. That's really sweet, but not at all necessary."

Matthew gave her a dubious look, then crouched down on the ground next to her, sliding down the wall slowly. "Something must have happened."

"Nothing happened. I'm just being silly." She waved his concern away, trying to smile.

"Uhm. Do you want me to call Isaiah?"

"No!"

Matthew blinked at her vehemence.

Seline ran her hands through her hair and sat down back next to him, back against the wall. "Nothing happened. It would just worry him."

"If he could comfort you, I'm sure he would be happy to worry. Maybe I just can't say what you need to hear."

"It's fine. Seriously. I'm overreacting because of hormones. Nothing is wrong." She flushed a little, realzing she said hormones, but when Matthew didn't laugh or say she was a hysterical girl, her shoulders slumped in relief and she relaxed a little.

"I didn't realize you two were so similar. Always such a put together front," Matthew commented, looking away with a sigh.

"You really want to hear my stupid reason?" She showed him the screen of her phone, too quickly for him to focus without realizing. "The trains won't be running at the time I wanted to go home tomorrow. I will have to leave early and wait up till my parents come home for them or take a risky train-bus connection that doesn't have to work out."

Stunned silence. "Can't you just drive?"

"No, I can't just drive," she said, annoyed. "I hate driving and I don't have my car here and you can go and say how this is my fault for not overcoming myself with the car and-"

"Fine, I give up." Matthew put his hands up in surrender. "You have a total right to hate driving. You want me to drive you?"

"I-" Seline spluttered for air. "I-I can't ask that of you-"

"Well, you aren't asking, I'm offering," Matthew said with a shrug. "I can drive you to your parent house and then go back. Your trains will work on Sunday, right? I can pick you up at the station."

Seline crossed her arms on her chest, avoiding his gaze. "It's just this one time. I can take the trains normally, the timing fits well, with them coming home and all. Just this once." Shouldn't she invite him over when he drives her that long? She didn't invite him or Isaiah to meet her family yet.

"It's no problem," he said tiredly. "Stop defending it like I'm moving a mountain for you. If you told this to Isaiah, even hinted at it, he would offer the same."

Seline nodded, eyes overflowing with tears again, this time from how touched she was. Seriously, today was such a stupid day. She was crying for everything. "Thank you."

"Oi. What now?" Matthew said, a little exasperated. He turned to her, wrapping his bandaged hand around her elbow and then pushed her forward against his chest.

Seline melted at the contact, pressing her crying face against his chest. Matthew enclosed his arms around her, practically dragging her to sit in his lap as he held her. She sat with her side and arm against his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is just over emotion. Don't worry," she said reassuringly as his hug tighthened.

He sighed into her hair.

She laughed nervously against his ear, chin on his shoulder, wanting to fill the silence with something. "No way I want Isaiah to see me like this. Giant minus point, to have such an emotional girl on his hands. He would be running for the hills."

Matthew snorted. "But you don't mind me seeing?"

"You won't break up with me," she said with a half-broken smile.

"He wouldn't either."

"Not on the first time. But on the fifth time? Tenth time? I better not give him more difficult times if I can help it, before he starts counting."

Matthew shook his head. She could feel the movement against her face as she closed her eyes. "No one is counting. That's not what couples do."

"Oh really? It's all I'm doing. Counting how much we are giving each other and if it's still ends up in mutual benefit."

She could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. "I don't think it's supposed to work like that. It's not a business deal."

"It's very similar. I have to be pretty enough, attractive enough, smart and entertaining so when I really really need something, I can get a favour and not waste on something stupid and minor like this-"

"Isaiah would run himself to the ground caring for you and never think of something like that."

"Well, that's just because he is kind and selfless and so self-sacrifacing towards everyone. Doesn't make me any special."

Seline frowned. "I love you."

Matthew leaned forward, his face in his hands, leaving her with the view on his back. "You think emotion doesn't play any role? People aren't just a list of plus and minus traits. You feel something about them too. If everyone was so strick as you say, I wouldn't make the list for anyone."

There was a beat of silence.

Matthew jerked underneath her, looking up, face going all red. "What? Where did that come from?"

"You are right." Seline shrugged. "I'm very rational about the whole dating thing, comparing and counting things, because I don't want the pink glasses to blind me to our compatability. But when it comes to friendships or family or...well, pack, it's all about feelings and I know what I feel. I love you. In the family sort of way."

Matthew rubbed his forehead, unsuccessfully trying not to blush. "You have never said it to Isaiah, you can't blurt it out like that to me."

Seline suspected there hadn't been enough people saying it to Matthew in general. "I love him too. But if we work out as a couple, I have to love him in that other, romantic way too. I'm not sure we are that far yet."

Yes, she was attracted to Isaiah. It's been very hard for her to fall in love, to respect let alone to admire someone else, so she was very happy she found him. And he was intelligent, thoughtful, considerate and he put so much effort into everything and she admired him for many things...but she never had such a long relationship, as she was not interested in dating in her teen years, and the inexperience was making her cautious.

Matthew shook his head, burying it in his hands once again. He was breathing all harsh and fast. She could feel his chest heave underneath her. She wrapped her hands around his neck, suprised at how sweaty he was and how weirdly pale...was he like that from the start?

"Hey, Matt-"

"You two should really," he gulped loudly, shuddering, "have a talk. Being this tense and counting around each other can't be- hrrrk-" he burped loudly, slamming a hand to his lips.

Seline retracted her arms back, putting one gently on his chest and the other on his stomach. He was still breathing so fast and his stomach was heaving, like it shriveled under her palms...and suddenly Matthew leaned to the side and gagged violently over her arms on the floor.

"Matt!" she yelped as his stomach heaved and he gagged again, this time bringing a mouthful of water. Seline rubbed his stomach, feeling it contract as he heaved the third time, this time bringing up a big wave of water. "What's wrong with you? Are you- did you- you were feeling sick the whole time?"

Matthew spat onto the ground, giving a full-body shudder. "Sorry. I just..."

"Is this some kind of flu? Did you eat something bad?" Crisis always brought a calm over her, making her practical. She could feel her mind clearing from trivial concerns, emotions in the backround.

"Not really. My sparrring partner got a really good hit to my head today...I guess I was feeling a little light-headed since then." He blurred his words together a little and he was still that sickly pale.

"Wait, you mean to tell me you are concussed?" She tried to scramble away from his lap, not wanting to add weight to his misery. He was feeling sick and dizzy from a hit to the head and let her blabber on?

He tighetned his hold again, squeezing her against him, hanging his head on her shoulder. "Sorry...can I just...I don't really want to move." He smiled crookedly. "I can't believe I survived climbing up the stairs."

"Matt, you silly fool. You should have said something." She threaded her fingers through his hair, looking for a bump. "Did you heal yourself?"

"A little. Didn't really stop hurting all the way. And my, ehmm, ears are ringing a little." He winced at her touch but didn't pull away.

"Come on, you should get some sleep." His head was basically limp on his neck, barely holding himself up. She figured he could sleep since he healed himself with this shadow. It must have been the symptoms that remained. "You can stay in my room, I can't really help with the stairs like Isaiah can. You will be more comfortable there, okay?" And they would get away from the mess on the floor.

Coaxing Matthew to unwrap himself took another 5 minutes. She held him under the elbow, trying to stabilize him, but they both knew he was too big for her to hold his weight, should he fall. He stumbled the few steps to her bedroom, holding onto the wall and her for support.

He basically collapsed on her favourite pillow, squeezing his eyes in a painful way that cued her in on the light. She closed the curtains on the windows and fetched a wash-basin from the bathroom, then climbed into the double bed with him.

"Hmmmm...Do I have too many minus points for vomiting to get another hug today?" Matthew mumbled sleepily, rolling to his side as she adjusted the covers over him.

"You are such an idiot," she said fondly, wiggling herself under his arm, face against his chest. It was a warm, comfortable position for her too.

"You sure Isaiah won't mind?"

Seline chuckled. "From you, he won't. My guess? He will end up sleeping here today too." She kissed the top of his forehead. "The basin is right next to you. Tell me if you feel sick again. Should I get you a painkiller?"

"Nah. Can't stomach it right now. Just stay."

It warmed something inside her that he wanted her so close, that he might have hugged her the first time for his comfort as well. Or maybe just for her. He was such a marshmellow, it was a shame it only came out when he was feeling sick.

@bellysoupset

[poomphuripan]

10 BL Boys I Want Carnally To Love, Take Care and Cuddle With Every Night

@bunnakit awww thank you for the tag 🫶 as an asexual i can't say i spent much time thinking about fucking anyone (so coming up with this list was really hard ;_;) but if any of these characters propositioned... i would NOT say no 😉

10. Phob (Something In My Room)

if there is an award for cutest ghost of all time in a BL series, i think Phob will take home easily. Phob deserves better sex. my meow meow friendly ghost Phob, i will tuck you in bed my ghost sweetie 🥺🫶

9. Shao Fei (History 3: Trapped)

my righteous cop with a strong sense of justice, i really love Shao Fei so much. Shao Fei doesn't beat around the bush and is really straightforward with his wants, I LOVE HE!

8. Khuafah (Sky In Your Heart)

Khuafah, the HOT CHARMING doctor that you are. i would volunteer to get sick every day just to visit him 🫠

7. Gene (Lovely Writer)

if Gene ever needs to write a straight romance novel, i'm happy to make out with him for research purposes 😉

6. Pisaeng (Be My Favorite)

most patient boyfriend who tries super hard to get you plushies? yea i would bang Pisaeng in a heartbeat, no doubt. in fact, i believe Pisaeng would be considerate and wait for me to be ready (Pisaeng babe i'm always ready for you 😉)

5. Tennoji Haru (Trillion Game)

while Trillion Game is DEFINITELY not BL, but Meguro Ren was in Kieta Hatsukoi so my boy should get a PASS 😤 Haru is confident yet humble, self-proclaimed selfish yet always selfless. god i love competent men *swoons* Trillion Game is out on Netflix, please check out my boy Haru and his boy(friend) Gaku and their start-up adventure together 🥺👉👈.

4. Charn (Laws of Attraction)

while i can't guarantee that i can give Charn a good time, i believe that as a fellow lawyer i can assist Charn with any case work he got. Like i said, i am a sucker for competent men 😮‍💨.

3. Tangmo (Great Men Academy)

you don't understand how obsessed i am with the og golden retriever, nation's boyfriend, Tangmo. it's been 4? years... i have not let him go... gentle soft boi but great at judo too? i think Tangmo and i should have our wrestling sessions ending up as makeout sessions.

2. Joe (My Stand In)

this is kind of a cheat but i've read the original novel for My Stand In (Professional Body Double by Shui Qian Cheng) and i can confirm Joe/Zhou Xiang is the sweetest soul, most precious, unluckiest gay ever (Ming, you are on sight, watch it sir or imma steal Joe away). i'm super excited for My Stand In because i hope i get to fall in love with Joe once again the way i fell super hard, head over heels for him when i finished this danmei novel within less than 24 hours. (was this shameless PR for Poom Phuripan's new BL series next year? yes, yes it absolutely was 🤗)

1. Khun Yai and Jom (I Feel You Linger In The Air)

if i don't have a gentle lover like Khun Yai Kritsada Palathip or a soft boyfriend like Jom Ravit Pittayanan then what's the POINT. i want both of them so BAD. also isn't it such a crime that Yai lives his entire life the rest of his live in celibacy, having fucked only ONE person (the love of his life) in his lifetime. LET ME IN. i will love both of you equally.

+ bonus: Chef Guy (Bake Me Please)

did you REALLY think i was gonna end my list without current loml, our resident sad boi, considerate and caring Chef Guy? 😅 Guy deserves a spot on here because well i'm absolutely feral for this man. Guy is just the nicest guy and i will literally do anything for him. Guy had me at hello but my heart truly broke when he comforted Peach saying he doesn't want to see Peach who's given him so much positivity, cry 😭.

oooooh that was soooo hard ;_; i love all these characters, maybe one day i need to start listing the female characters i'd totally hypothetically bang too because WOMEN ARE HOT 🔥.