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ahundredtimesover · 4 months

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I Want You to Stay (01) | 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; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

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: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee.

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile.

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss.

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh.

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved.

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again.

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.”

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You��re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.”

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that.

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly.

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong.

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants.

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face.

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly.

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in.

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—”

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true.

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his.

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay.

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss.

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room.

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?”

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head.

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down.

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile.

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues.

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass.

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala.

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell.

He’s unfairly handsome.

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze.

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him.

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters.

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say.

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says.

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached.

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway.

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok.

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them.

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point.

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison.

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind.

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds.

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around.

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father.

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk.

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out.

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says.

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly.

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day.

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day.

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks.

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so.

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you.

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily.

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised.

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs.

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?”

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in.

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed.

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first.

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected.

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make.

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed.

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings.

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done.

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough.

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough.

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon.

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day.

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting.

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t.

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting.

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you.

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs.

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same.

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge.

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files.

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents.

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that.

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door.

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger.

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes.

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.”

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours.

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything.

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you?

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation.

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do.

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty.

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more.

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you.

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?”

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies.

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle.

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites.

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment.

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction.

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing.

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it.

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career.

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm.

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this.

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder.

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today.

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision.

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you.

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly.

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede.

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply.

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know? But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs.

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks.

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans.

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans.

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says.

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now.

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 2 months

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So Messy (For Everyone Else) - LN

Summary: Lando might have been harshly criticised for his choice to not join Red Bull and stay happily in the team he loves. But his girlfriend encourages him to count his blessings that suddenly he's not at the forefront of criticism and drama now.

Soft-hearted/shy!reader

Also because people keep replying asking for part 2s, and even though it is on my page (I don't expect everyone to go look at my profile just to ask for a part 2) that I explain I write one shots to remain as one part. I figure it's just easier to put at the top of fics. This is not to be mean or passive aggressive, it's just so people aren't commenting getting their hopes up for a follow up part when I won't be writing a part 2.

No part 2 requests please

Lando had to physically restrain his girlfriend who does not have the same self-control as Max when it comes to knowing when to stop defending Lando because all that happens is her blood boils at the sight of any negativity towards him.

She's got a mouth and she willing to use it to put people in their place.

Lando had practically confiscated her phone so it became a matter of waking up before him and trying to retrieve her phone from his side of the bed.

"Ah!" Lando groans making her body jump as he grabs her wrist and uses it to instead pin her into a hug. "Let's just stay here for a while."

"I don't know how you go from trying to leave me bed bound to be a teddy bear. But it's jarring." Y/n states earning a smirk from her boyfriend.

"I just want your love and attention in every form that you can give it." Lando smiles whole moving both hands up and drawing a heart shape with his index fingers around her face. "You're so pretty."

Y/n's hit with a wave of shyness over his comment, ducking her head down to hide in his chest while he laughs, always a fan of the effect his words have on her. He thinks she's adorable.

"Can't hide there forever." Lando teases rubbing her back as he hugs her tightly.

"I think I can." Y/n mumbles earning a laugh. "Can I have my phone yet? Just to check the time?"

Lando already knows it's well into the afternoon, he woke up and saw the times a few hours ago and it'd just gone 11. But with all the travelling they've been doing, he figured there's no damage in sleeping a little excessively.

Y/n grins getting up and straddling her boyfriend as she reaches for her phone. And while she is focusing on her phone, Lando is taking the time to admire his girlfriends body. As he often takes the opportunity to do when she's not paying attention because otherwise she gets shy and just tries to cover herself again.

"Fuck me. What the fuck?" Y/n gasps as she read something on her screen. "Lewis is moving to Ferrari. Holy-Did you know?"

"No. How the would I know?" Lando laughs then snatching her phone. "Are you lying? Because that doesn't sound-oh fuck."

"Not confirmed...but it's definitely looking like it's going to happen." Y/n states managing to get her phone back. "That's insane...really took the shine off the Haas launch-be nice. You wouldn't like the McLaren launch overshadowed."

"Not likely to happen." Lando scoffs earning an eye roll.

"Apparently they'll be confirmation-Lando...it's Carlos' seat. Charles had his announcement the day before yours."

"Don't-no, baby. Do not cry. Carlos is a good driver, he'll get another seat." Lando states laughing as his girlfriend tears up for his former teammate. "You're so silly, baby. You don't need to cry."

"I'm so glad you're not in Ferrari, they treat their drivers like shit when they decide to replace them." Y/n pouts then sighing and tossing her phone away as if it's offended her. Then a thought strikes her. "Maybe people will finally keep your name out their mouth."

"Hopefully, but they'll be a few who are more obsessed with me than you are and they'll manage to still make it about me." Lando hums which makes her click her tongue but she doesn't say anything because really she knows he's right. Though of course she feels like she has to make some sort of comment.

"It's not your fault that you're success and they've got no accomplishments to actually brag about."

"See, that is why we don't let you go online and speak your mind. Because that sort of thing is going to get us both in trouble." Lando smiles earning a hum. "Anyway, it's like 3...so how about we make something to eat and kill time till we find out what's going on?"

Y/n hums in agreement to his plan, smiling at her while she sighs softly.

Y/n kept an eye on the time and she cried when it was all confirmed. Crying at the fact Lewis isn't retiring with the team he gained so much success with, crying at Carlos' confirmation of his departure and crying at Ferrari addressing Lewis joining the team, but making no effort to address Carlos.

"Baby..." Lando laughs as she sniffles and rubs her eyes. "People change and swap teams all the time and Carlos is in Ferrari for another year."

"They don't deserve him." Y/n pouts while Lando smiles pulling her over to his lap, almost replicating their position of her straddling him like she was when they learned of the news.

"You have the biggest heart, baby." Lando sighs while cupping her face and wiping his thumbs under her cheeks to get rid of the tears. "I sent Carlos a message and he said he's got plans. You don't need to worry about him...I'd be more worried about how Mercedes might prioritise George now they know Lewis isn't going to be giving something to them."

"Lando." Y/n whines since that's not at all making her feel better and more tears threaten to spill over.

"It's the truth." Lando laughs before pulling her forward into a kiss. "I'm getting my new helmet tomorrow. You can look forward to that."

Y/n pouts, but he can see her eyes lightened at that knowledge.

Y/n seeing Lando's helmet, she's obsessed (though she does miss his original design that had been carried through his career, inspired by his motorsport hero).

"Do you want to model for me baby?" Lando grins catching her attention from the video she'd been capturing of his stunning modelling skills. "Come on, baby."

"Alright, bossy." Y/n jokes while he rolls his eyes pulling the straps and shifting it around before he successfully pushes the helmet down on her head.

The next photos are mainly a sequence of Lando looking at her through the helmet in a way which really captures just how much he loves her. One specific moment captures when he lifts the visor and wiggles his finger in the space watching her eyes crease as she smiles and laughs at him.

Though what even earns an "awww" from the photographer, is when he lifts the helmet up to sit just on top of her head, leaving it there as he cups her face, almost blocking her from the camera entirely from the size of his hand covering her cheeks as he kisses her.

Then she's squished in a hug which lets her hide her face, too flustered to be captured on camera. Though the moment of her hiding is captured anyway.

"She's shy." Lando laughs continuing to hug her and let her hide, pulling the helmet the rest of the way off her head. "Is that all the pictures we need?"

"Yeah, I think we got them all."

"I think right now McLaren is out of the park with being considered problematic. You're about as problematic as Williams right now." Y/n comments as she scrolls through her phone. "Although, I'm not sure how Alex and Logan could be problematic."

"I'm sure the best of F1 haters will find something to hate them for if they try hard enough." Lando hums before he smiles brightly at her.

"That's true." Y/n hums before finding her phone snatched from her. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"You have that look on your face." Lando smirks since if there's one thing he's perfected in his life, it's reading his girlfriend like a book. Though he checks her phone and finds that he was right, she already had half a tweet written. "Baby..."

"I can't help it."

Lando knows since he really understands it goes against her true nature for her to not say something when she believes someone is saying something with no justification behind it.

"I'm enjoying the peace, you should enjoy it too." Lando states locking her phone and putting it down. "Because soon it's going to be chaos and you, future mrs Norris, are going to be by my side for it ever step of the way."

"Future mrs Norrs? I need a ring before you give me that title."

"It's your name in my phone, and don't pretend you don't love it." Lando smirks while knowing he's triggering her shy complex into wanting to hide being being torn between using him and pushing him away because he's the cause. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

Y/n is sitting up on the kitchen counter so he stands between her legs and laughs as she leans forward hugging him and leans over, her chin on his shoulder before she tilts down to rub her face into his top.

"You are the cutest and somehow most protective girlfriend on the planet." Lando laughs gently kissing her neck while pulling her closer to his body.

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lovetren · 1 year

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i love november but november this year did not love me </3

#work drama housing drama health drama #hr officially rejected my request to go pt in jan after my dept head shared her 'concerns' about my workload #despite my boss having no issues with the schedule i suggested :/ even told me she'd help me find a new job if it came down to that <3 #decided after my last boss quit in aug that too much needed to change for me to stay longterm so leaving's been guaranteed #but still sweet and reassuring to hear from her #anyway asked hr rep if i could appeal the decision and now i have another meeting with dept head tomorrow to talk it out #funny thing is that if i were to quit rn i'd have the option to stay on as a pt employee while the company looks for my replacement #which would take at least two months because of the slow hiring process here. hiring me took three months from job posting to first day #going pt for a little longer than that is best case scenario i guess but if not well. at least quitting won't immediately suck #housing for my sister and me next year has perhaps possibly potentially been figured out ? won't get confirmation for a while though :/#anxiety thru the roof last week too :( kept coming in waves... felt mildly nauseous and tight chest for days #hopefully december's a little gentler with everyone #txt

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arminsumi · 1 month

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🔞 𝐀𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐓𝐨-𝐁𝐞 𝐄𝐱-𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 | 𝟐

<- 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯.

𝟑.𝟔𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 / 𝟕 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : fem reader / Gojo Satoru / (Geto Suguru)

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : your ex-boyfriend claims he isn't a playboy anymore, but is he being genuine? Another date with him leaves you a mess, and you end up asking his best friend out for coffee.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : angst, pining, drama, smut (cr**mpies, light degradation, name calling (sl*t and wh*re), c*nnilingus, bl*wjob in the backseat/risky), implied sexual relationship with Suguru

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐞 : Heaven and Back | Often | Wine Pon You | New Rules

You walk out of your bedroom gussied up, lips painted in a very specific shade of red.

And Shoko, laid on the couch tiredly, gapes in disbelief at you.

"Oh my god." she groans, "Please don't tell me you're going on another date with that playboy."

You act dumb, nervously touching your neck as you style your hair in the mirror some more.

"What?"

"You're wearing the Gojo Satoru lipstick."

You continue acting, "This isn't the 'Gojo Satoru' lipstick, I love this lipstick! I always wear this shade!"

She looks at you, dumbfounded by your acting, nearly laughing.

"No, that's the Gojo Satoru lipstick. I can distinctly recall his words; "That's my baby's lipstick on me." and how you giggled on his shoulder."

"Shoko, that was five years ago." you say, "It's fine. I promised him only one more date. He needs closure."

"He's had five years of closure." Shoko replies, "Angel, you're too good for him."

"He's changed!" you insist.

"No, he hasn't; I saw that look in his eyes when I saw you two on the couch. He's still a playboy, and he'll prove it to you soon enough." she says.

"I have faith in him." you say.

"How many times have I heard that?" she shakes her head, getting ready to have a smoke. "You know, Gojo Satoru has always gotten what he wants. That's why he's so fascinated by the new you; you're not giving yourself to him like you did back then."

"I have faith in him!" you emphasize. "God, just tell me I look good."

"..."

"Please. I'm nervous. He's high-class, you know. I feel like I'm going on a date with the president of the world."

Shoko sighs and heads towards the balcony to smoke.

"You look too good." she says earnestly. "He was right about that shade of lipstick on you."

Her compliment makes you light up significantly.

You fuss as you wait. Since Shoko asks, you tell her; "He ordered for someone to chauffeur me."

"Oh my god." she groans, "He's really buttering you up."

"But isn't it such a gentleman move!"

"... more like a rich boy flex." she mutters under her breath, stubbing out the end of her cigarette.

"Okay. I've got to go. See you later... um, unless I overnight by him, of course." you giggle dreamily.

"Condoms." Shoko says simply.

"He's got some."

"Bring your own, always."

"But I'm on birth control, and we've already — " you begin.

Shoko cuts you off, "I know, but have you ever heard about the whole "creampies make you fall in love" thing?"

"What?" you look dumbly. "Isn't that a myth?"

"No. Coming inside is affectionate. You're going to feel connected to him and then he'll dip when you become "too serious" for him. Just keep him at bay."

You give her advice consideration, and nod. "Okay, alright. I won't let him do it inside."

*****

While being chauffeured, you rehearse in your head how to greet your ex-boyfriend — but it doesn't help, because as soon as you're actually in his presence again, your mind goes blank and you start nervously touching at your neck and giggling to cope with his charm.

From the moment Satoru takes your hand and leads you into the restaurant, you feel like a VIP. It's such a familiar feeling; in your early twenties, when you and him dated, he showed you what it meant to be really rich.

And he was excited to shower you in lavish treatment, he loved to see you decorated in his diamonds and to see your bright smile on foreign beaches.

The effect he has on you is even noticed by the waiter, who tends to your secluded table on the rooftop. You and Satoru feel like you're in your own bubble.

"I'm serious." he says honestly, looking into your eyes.

"... you break my heart, then disappear for five years, and then come back asking for marriage." you shake your head, "Doesn't that sound insane to you? Can't you understand why I'm rejecting you?"

"I've changed."

You hum skeptically.

"Really." he tilts his head, he flicks his brow giving his expression that sad little look that really sells it for you.

"If we got married, how long would it last?"

"What do you mean? We'd be wed 'till we're dead." he grins.

You shake your head and smile at him, poking at your plate. A long silence passes.

"... let me think about it."

"... okay." his spirits lift. "But don't make me wait too long; I'm impatient." he teases.

"Too bad. I'm gonna take my time." you sass, biting a piece of meat off your fork to make a statement.

He grins at you.

*****

Food all eaten, dessert long gone. The night air feels good. Not like old times, but new times with an old lover. He knows he messed up, right? So why hasn't he apologized yet? Maybe, you theorize to yourself to justify him, maybe he's still thinking up an apology.

He stares at you from across the table, eyes hungry like a starved wolf.

"You look so good tonight." he says for the third time.

You giggle in response, "Stop..."

"I swear that shade of lipstick looks familiar." he teases, leaning over the table.

You can smell his cologne, and it entrances your heart.

"... is it?" you ask softly, pretending like you don't know what he's talking about.

He knows you're pretending, he thinks it's cute.

"You think it would look good on me too?" he asks.

You shrug like a ditzy princess, "I dunno. Wanna find out...?"

He's so quick to call the waiter for the bill, like there's a pressing issue that needs his attention.

But the only pressing issue is his hard-on pressing hot against his thigh.

*****

Giving his cock all your attention in the backseat of the car, Satoru forces his moans down so that his poor chauffeur doesn't hear through the screen divider.

You stifle a slurping sound, sliding off the tip of his cock slowly, and it makes him shudder hard. He closes his eyes, like that helps any, and tries to keep from cumming in your mouth right there.

Gojo knows your lipstick stains are going all over his cock, it drives him crazy.

Before he cums, you pull off and he mutters a small "Just you wait..." under his breath that makes you smile wide.

****

Kissy marks lead up his abs. Of course, he wants to take a photo — to preserve the memory.

"Hand here, baby. Good girl." he instructs, and in his voice right then you can hear how mature he is now, in comparison to the squeakier voice he had when you two first met.

He's not a boy anymore, he's a man. But very far from being your man, which he's trying to change.

"Lay back." he murmurs. "Spread your legs. Wider. Good girl."

Without saying a thing about it, he noses in between your thighs and shows you heaven is real, and it exists on Gojo Satoru's tongue.

"Fuck!" you clamp your thighs around his head, making him hum while sliding his tongue inside.

When you two first dated, he wasn't inexperienced — but he didn't quite know how to eat a woman out.

Five years is a long time to practice, and he definitely did. You can feel his sloped nose nudging against your clit as he kisses and sucks, sometimes nibbling softly with his teeth at your puffy lips.

Making you cum on his tongue is almost too easy for Satoru, he nearly laughs as he pulls away and licks your slick off his lips. He thinks it's a pity that he's at the wrong angle to see your eyes rolling back. But at least he sees how you throw your head back for him, and how you sound for him — like a cat, he loves it.

"Nice and messy for me now, huh?" he hums, connecting his body with yours as he crawls upwards and devours your lips.

"Mhm!" you whine, still unsteady from your orgasm, breathing frantically. "Satoru, I need you in me right now."

"Aw, but I was gonna — "

"Nowww!" you beg.

He sighs, "Can't say no to that face."

You watch intently, licking your lips, as he whips his belt off and takes his cock out. It's red from the tip down to the middle, where that familiar thick vein always catches your attention.

By your request, even though it confuses him, he squeezes his cock into a condom.

"What do you need, baby?" he asks, lowering his cock onto your pussy and rubbing it between your slicked lips.

You squeal as he flicks at your clit, then pinches your folds around his cock, making you realize his size in comparison to little you.

"I need you."

"Need me how?"

"Satoru!" you hiss annoyedly.

"I don't want to have to tease you, baby just say it."

"I want your cock inside me."

"Not nearly slutty enough." he shakes his head, drawing his cock back and forth, rubbing over your soft pussy. "You said to me in the car that you were a total, fucking slut for me, didn't you say that? Or am I imagining things?"

You start babbling, "Yeah! I'm a slut for you, I want it so bad!" you whine, "C'mon fuck me stupid!"

"That's better." he grins.

Just like how he always does, he presses his tip inside you so politely but then pushes it in too deep, making you curl like you're about to cum.

Satoru's not one to go slow for long, he'd rather pound into you hard and fast right away, to bring out that slut in you as quick as he can. Because right now, you're not nearly slutty enough for him, as he said — and he needs to see that side of you.

"Baby, get loud for me, come on." he grunts, shoving himself as deep as he can, reaching the spot that you know isn't the G-spot or your cervix, but something in-between.

"Fuck!" you almost cry, "That's so good, fuck me harder please!"

He grins, cheeky fangs on display, and goes harder until you can hardly handle it. You don't care if it hurts just a little bit, because you want to know that every inch of your ex's cock is inside you. Not just eight, eight and a half — honestly, he doesn't know where you put all of that, but he delights in watching it disappear into your hole.

"Look at you." he purrs, "How deep are you trying to suck me?"

It feels like he's going to split you in two. Sweat pours out of the both of you, bodies getting slippery.

As Satoru continues pumping his cock back and forth, in and out of you, he starts furrowing his brows together in focus — playful edge dulling as it always does when it feels good good.

"That's it, you fucking take it." he grunts, "Good girl, you're a good little slut for me huh?"

"Yeahhh I'm a good little slut for you!"

"Let me take the condom off, baby."

You know you're gonna hear it from Shoko if she knows, but in the moment you're too drunk on sex to care, and even reach back to strip the condom off your ex's cock yourself as he watches with a smirk.

"Good girl. Now flip on your side, like this." he instructs.

He slides back inside slowly, filling you inch by inch with a low groan — like he's falling in love.

And the sounds he makes as his orgasm builds up make you want to cum again, too. Each time he hits that strange spot between your G-spot and cervix, your visions sparks a little.

Hard strokes tip you over, and you lay there letting Satoru degrade you and call you a filthy slut. You'd be his anything as long as it felt this good.

"I'm so close." he warns, trying to savor the buildup.

"Cum inside me." you mewl, "Please."

"Yeahhh I'm gonna — fuck. Take my cum, be a good girl."

The broken moan he lets out as he creampies you is almost obscene. Satoru slows his thrusts as he shoots everything he has into you.

His jaw slacks, and he groans, "... prettiest little slut, aren't you? So filthy and pretty."

"I'm gonna cum againnn..." you whine, reaching down to rub frantically on your sensitive clit.

He watches you through the haze of his post-orgasm, slowly grinding his cock inside to get you there.

"Good girl."

"C-call me a slut again, please."

He laughs naughtily, "Fucking slut. Come on, finish on me. Make that cute face again, 'cute lil' whore."

Satoru always surprises you during sex in some way, this time you're surprised when he caresses your cheek as you cum. You shake and spasm, feeling each shock of your orgasm.

Panting and coming down from your high, Satoru cracks a smile.

"You were so loud." he laughs.

Reality hits you, "Oh my god, I didn't know I liked being called a slut so much!" you cover your face embarrassedly.

He rings out with laughter.

*****

After sex. What happens after sex? He's a gentleman, and that makes you tear up — not because he's a gentleman, but because he never used to be quite like this.

No, he never used to be quite like this. Even kissing you afterwards? Why was it, you wonder, that back then he couldn't love you as deeply as now, when you needed it most?

"What's wrong?" he asks.

You try to stop your crying, but it gets worse.

"Satoru." you say, sniffling, eyes pointed downwards, "I know it's been five years, but I'm still hurt."

He doesn't reply. Just awkwardly wrings his hands and sits at the edge of the bed, soft duvet covering his lap.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't really help."

"Then what can I do?"

"I don't know." you sniffle, "Go back in time and love me. You know, I needed your love back then more than I do now." you admit to both him and yourself.

Satoru purses his lips, thinking before he speaks — but then he ends up not replying at all.

Instead, he goes to wipe your tears. Something he always did towards the end of your relationship, because you were always crying.

"I should go home."

He jolts a little. "Oh. I thought you were gonna stay the night?" he croaks. Inside, he's dreading sleeping alone again.

"No." you shake your head. "I've got to stop fooling myself. We're not getting back together, you're not more than a playboy, we're not getting married — and sex with you is better than with anyone else, but a relationship can't bank on that, Satoru."

"I'm being genuine. I told you earlier that I was."

"How can I trust you?" you ask.

"Playboys don't propose marriage." he replies.

"But you're just joking about that!"

"I'm not!" he stresses, "The last time you loved me, I was just a boy. I'm a man now and I know what I want." he says roughly.

You both go silent. Then he starts speaking again, voice softer than before.

"I love you more every time I see you."

You don't say anything back. He looks stricken and confused.

"I'm gonna go." you say.

He purses his lips tightly, looking frustrated that he can't get through to you.

"I'll take you home." he says quietly.

*****

Shoko is just digging around in the freezer for therapeutic ice cream when you come into the entry way.

"You look dreadful."

"Thanks."

"Bad date?"

"The worst..."

"Still love him?"

"... yeah."

"Marriage?"

"I'm in love, not stupid." you reply.

Shoko chuckles. "Come on. Let's catch up on that series. I'm not on-call." she cheers for herself. "We can binge the whole thing."

"Shoko, where would I be without you?" you sigh appreciatively, flopping on the couch next to her, mascara smudged off and all.

"Staying the night with a playboy, probably."

"Can't argue that." you sigh, "Shoko, I'm so dumb for him, what do I do?"

"Wait. Strike at the right moment."

"I'm not a cobra."

"Buy a cobra. Let it loose on him."

"Your humor is so dark, Shoko. I love you."

"Love you more."

*****

Meanwhile, Satoru is with Suguru; who is listening to his sulking best friend.

"I'm so dumb for her. What do I do?" he groans, "Shoko's probably poisoning her against me as we speak."

Suguru thinks deeply. "Shoko..."

"I know!" Satoru nearly starts crying again. He's being so dramatic, it's hard to take him seriously. But Satoru almost never cries. So Suguru seriously thinks about solutions to his problems.

"Shoko!" Suguru realizes.

"I knowww!"

"No, Satoru, Shoko!" Suguru emphasizes, like he's just made a breakthrough, "Shoko is the answer to all your problems!"

"Ew. I'd never date Shoko."

"You're so dense. I'm not suggesting that. Shoko's her best friend, and she listens to whatever she says, like you listen to me."

"You have a point... I'm listening."

"See?" Suguru chuckles, "Now, here's what I think you should do..."

*****

"You want me to talk to Suguru?" you shake your head. "How would that help?"

"He's his best friend. If you want to find out if Satoru's no-good, you go to the best friend."

"Suguru would rather die than expose Satoru. They're not like regular best friends, they're soulmate best friends." you say, nervously touching at your neck.

Shoko shakes her head. "Are you scared to talk to Suguru or something? What actually happened between you two back then? You never told me."

You go silent and wide-eyed. Shoko's jaw drops open.

"No way. Holy shit. Oh my god. You and him...?!"

"... it was just once."

"Holy shit! Was this before, after or during you and Satoru together?"

"I'm loyal as a dog! It was after... I was feeling, um, revengeful, and Suguru was feeling lonely one night... so..."

"Suguru actually did that?! Did Satoru find out?"

"We promised to never talk about it again. You know... Suguru was so nice about it. I remember he laid me down and said "Don't worry, just cum on my tongue" or something. Ugh, he was so hot. He fucked the life out of me — I could barely fucking see straight after."

"Too much information!" Shoko plugs her ears.

You look up at the ceiling dreamily. "He's thicker than Satoru."

"My best friend is a slut!" Shoko cries.

"I am!" you cry back dramatically.

The two of you burst out laughing wickedly.

"To sluts!" Shoko toasts with an ice cream spoon.

You toast with her, "To sluts! The sluttier the better!"

"Are you gonna talk to Suguru, then? Or are you scared of your inner slut coming out?" Shoko asks.

"I'll do it. It'll be fine. I'm sure Suguru doesn't look as good in real life as he does in photos..." you reply.

You exchange a look with her. Immediately, the two of you stalk Suguru's social medias and —

"Seriously? Who doesn't have a single social in this day and age?!" You curse, only finding photos of Suguru with Satoru.

"That's just like him."

"Maybe he has a Linkedin."

"You're desperate."

"Yeah!"

"Wait, here's something...?"

You investigate further.

"It's private?!"

Shoko bursts out laughing with ice cream melting on her tongue.

"Comedy!"

"This is seriously annoying. I'm gonna friend him." you say.

Shoko looks at you. You look at Shoko.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"You're CRAZY."

"I am!"

"Let me watch, let me watch."

"Okay. I'm doing it."

*****

Satoru is mixing another over-sweetened, non-alcoholic cocktail to be sipped on as if he's drinking his sorrows away.

And Suguru? He's laying on the couch, ghosting social medias that he has no account with, happily enjoying a video of traditional cuisine when suddenly he sees the most outrageous, random, and bizarre notification from his mostly-dead private account.

He makes a suspicious side-eye, thinking it can't be real.

Friend request from @ 𝐘𝐍

@ 𝐘𝐍 wants to send you a message.

@ 𝐘𝐍 hey suguru 😊

"What the fuck." he whispers under his breath, blushing in a panicked kind of way.

Immediately, hot memories of you flood his mind. He sits more upright on the couch, glances nervously to check what Satoru was doing, then looks at your message again.

His heart races.

*****

"This is stupid. He's gonna leave me on read."

"Yeah. I forgot Suguru was notorious for that." Shoko sighs. "Operation: Suguru is a failure, then?"

"Yeah."

You set your phone down and continue binge watching a whole season of a trashy series on Netflix.

Your phone vibrates thirty minutes later. You check it without thinking, then scream so loud it startles Shoko right out of her zen-like Netflix mood.

"NO WAY."

"Is it him? What did he say?"

"He said 'hey'. He's online."

"Well say something!"

You panic, "What do I say?"

"Ask him for coffee! In a non-romantic way!"

"Okay."

wanna go for coffee sometime?

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 is this about satoru or us?

it's about satoru

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 riiight

i'm serious 😠

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 because i wouldn't mind if it's about us

"WHAT." you scream with Shoko.

"REPLY TO HIM."

"I DON'T KNOW HOW."

"GIVE ME YOUR PHONE."

Shoko clacks her nails against the screen viciously, replying to him as you watch her type.

"That doesn't sound like I wrote it."

"Well sorry for being grammatically correct."

"Make it sound sillier."

"There."

Shoko sends it. You watch and wait with bated breath, ignoring the climactic scene on the TV because Suguru Geto was far more attention-grabbing.

"Oh my god." you clap your hand over your mouth. "Is that sexual? Is he being sexual?"

"I have no idea, Suguru's an enigma."

"Do you think Satoru is sitting with him? Are they playing us?"

Shoko shrugs. "I don't know, but I'd read that message if I were you."

You look back to your phone.

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 sooo coffee where and when?

"SHOKO WHAT DO I DO."

"I don't know."

"SHOKO."

"I DON'T KNOW. I'M STUNNED."

"ME TOO."

"I bet Satoru is cackling next to Suguru right now."

"I bet not. Listen to how sultry he is! That's three o's in there!"

Shoko thinks. "Yeah, but Suguru is always sultry. I think they're pulling a joke on us."

*****

Satoru is dozing off while his best friend texts you. Suguru's not resisting his smirk; it's plastered on his face.

@ 𝐘𝐍 tomorrow? 2pm sound ok? 🙈

@ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐞 sounds perfect.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞.

853 notes · View notes

honnelander · 6 months

Note

OK SO I HAVE THIS IDEA IN MY HEAD AND I HAVE TO TELL YOU, I can't stop laughing imagining that scenario xdxdxdxdxd

Well, then imagine go fish! Sanji takes (Y/N) to meet Zeff and Zeff being the good father he is, "accidentally" spoils the tea in front of everyone because he is so done with the drama around. 😂 😂 😂 😂

UMMM OK I LOVE THISSS!! this technically won't be go fish!Sanji BUT my interpretation of Sanji will pretty much always be like that.

here's Zeff "accidentally" spilling the beans about Sanji's affections for reader: (i can't believe this blew up to like 3k words rip)

masterlist

Zeff wasn't stupid.

He's been around the block a couple of times in his life and when Sanji's semi-regular letters to him had shifted from casual life updates and started to be more and more about details and little interactions he had with you, some girl Zeff had never met before, well, it was easy for the head chef to put two and two together: Sanji was in love.

And he was in love with you.

Now, while Sanji might not technically be his son by birthright, there was no way he didn't consider Sanji to be his own living and breathing kin, especially after everything they've been through together, 'pedigree' rules be damned.

Zeff truly loved that boy. Throughout their time together, he had raised Sanji from being a snotty-nosed brat into the respectable man that he was today and, in Zeff's mind, part of being a respectable man included knowing how to treat a woman properly.

Ever since he was a young boy, Zeff could see that Sanji took a special liking towards girls and then young women. The retired captain had lost count of the number of times he had to berate Sanji into getting back to work and to leave the wooing for after dinner service and his own personal time, but the scoldings never stuck. Sanji would always be Sanji, and that meant the lad had an endless wandering eye and a sharp silver tongue, no matter what.

To say that Zeff was sad to see Sanji go with Luffy that day was an understatement, he was devastated, but he knew, ever since he had held a knife to his throat during their first encounter, that Sanji was meant for bigger things. For things bigger than cooking up the same old dinner specials every night and breaking up drunk pirate fights on the regular. Sanji was bigger than the Baratie, so when Luffy had made his infamous offer to his pseudo-son, a part of Zeff was relieved because that meant that Sanji could finally start living the life he was always meant to live, and that was one of a pirate.

Zeff had also made peace with the very real fact that he might never see or hear from Sanji again. He (and Sanji) knew all too well how quickly something could go from bad to worse to life-threatening in an instant out on the open ocean, and if Luffy was truly determined to find the one piece and have Sanji join his crew, then Zeff knew that seeing him off that day was probably the last time he would ever see his son alive.

So, imagine his surprise when he received his first letter from him.

At first, he thought it was a joke, that one of the line cooks in the kitchen was pulling a cruel prank on him by writing him a fake letter in Sanji's unmistakable handwriting, but when he finally ripped open the envelope and found out that yes, Sanji did, in fact, write him a letter, well... it had actually brought a tear to his eye.

From that point forward, Zeff found himself eagerly awaiting Sanji's letters. He loved to hear all about the outlandish adventures that crew seemed to always find themselves in and it made Zeff nostalgic for his days at sea. There was never any return address, since the crew was constantly on the move, and Zeff expected as such, so he could never send a reply but that didn't mean he wasn't grateful for each and every letter he received.

Zeff should've realized that something was up though when Sanji had first mentioned you in one of his letters. Sanji's letters would come every couple of months and they, surprisingly, never mentioned any young lass or any other pretty girl he would meet during an island visit unless it was a woman they had ended up fighting.

So, when Sanji had first mentioned you to him, saying how you were the newest straw hat to join the crew, Zeff had thought it was just business as usual. However, what wasn't 'just business as usual' was when the rest of the letter had turned into a little biography about you; where you were from, how old you were, what your home life was like, that you had also agreed that 'oregano was for savages', etc., and the letter ended up being nearly ten pages long.

Then, after your 'introduction' in Sanji's letters to him, you were practically the subject of them all going forward, each one getting longer than the last. Gone were the letters detailing Sanji's adventures, and in came the letters describing the interactions you two had or what topics had come up in your conversations with each other.

At first, Zeff thought it was just another one of Sanji's infatuations (the boy was a huge flirt after all) but when more and more details were provided, and the letters started becoming longer, it was obvious to Zeff that Sanji was in love with you.

And why didn't Sanji just admit his feelings to you? He had no clue. Maybe it was partially his fault too, since Zeff never remembered having that 'what to do when you truly love a girl' talk with him, but he had hoped that Sanji would eventually be fed up with all the back and forth between the both of you and finally just confess already, but that declaration of "I confessed my love to her and she reciprocated" line never was brought up in any of the letters.

And Zeff was feeling himself go crazy the longer this went on. The 'drama' that was occurring between you both was driving him nuts and he vowed that if he ever saw Sanji and the rest of the straw hat crew at the Baratie again, that he would confess Sanji's feelings towards you for him. I mean... someone had to.

Then one day his lucky day came.

"Zeff!" a voice called out from the top of the stairs one afternoon before the day's first dinner service, a voice that Zeff thought he would never hear again. "There you are, you old shitbag!"

Immediately, Zeff stopped talking to the wait staff, turning his body to look up at where he heard the voice come from, his hands on his hips, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing: there was Sanji, a huge smile on his face, standing with practically the same crew that he had waved goodbye to nearly two years ago.

"Oi! Sanji!" Zeff yelled out, his own disbelieving smile lighting up his face. "I never thought I'd see your ugly mug around here again."

Sanji laughed at that as he quickly bounded down the stairs, enveloping him in a bear hug. "That makes two of us!" He pulled back, his blue eyes lighting up in pure happiness as he quickly took Zeff in, patting him on the shoulder as he said, "And look at you, you practically look exactly the same as the day I left you."

As Zeff took in Sanji's appearance, he realized that he couldn't say the same about him. Sanji looked older, not in a bad way, but in a more mature way. He looked like he was growing into the man that he was always meant to be.

And Zeff couldn't have been more proud.

"Well, I can't say the same about you little eggplant. You look like a seasoned pirate to me." Both of them dropped their arms off of each other and Zeff put his hands back on his hips. "You keepin' your feet dry?"

Sanji mirrored his pose, a small laugh escaping his lips as he looked down for a second. "Yeah," he said and looked back up at Zeff, a knowing glint in his blue eyes. "Yeah, I am."

Zeff knew right then that everything with his son was alright. "Good."

"Hey, uh, I wanted to introduce you to someone," Sanji started, looking slightly bashful as he looked back down at the floor and put his hands in his pockets. "She's the-"

"Girl from the letters?" Zeff said with a small knowing smile, finding it endearing how his normally smooth-talking son was suddenly acting about this girl. If he didn't know any better, Sanji looked nervous (and Zeff knew he was).

At his words, Sanji's gaze immediately snapped up to meet Zeff's, his eyes becoming slightly wider, a hint of panic within them, as he quickly looked back towards the rest of his crew that had just started to make their way down the stairs and towards them.

"The newest member of our crew," Sanji emphasized loudly, letting out a fake laugh as he looked back at Zeff pointedly.

"Right," Zeff relented with a small disbelieving laugh of his own. "'Newest crewmember'. Got it."

And when Zeff turned his attention towards the straw hats, he immediately knew it was you before you even introduced yourself. Sure, you were the only new face in the small group of familiar faces, but he had to give credit to Sanji, he had definitely captured your looks and essence in his letters.

Zeff's smile widened. You were cute. From just by looking at you, he could tell you were a sweet and kind soul, it was no wonder Sanji loved you. You definitely looked like the type of person who would do all those things that Sanji had spoken about in his letters and he immediately approved of you. If Sanji had stood there and introduced you as his wife instead of 'his newest crewmember', he wouldn't have had any objections to that at all.

"Zeff, this is y/n," Sanji started, gesturing a hand out to you, Zeff noticing the way his son's eyes softened just by looking at you. "And, uh, you already know everyone else."

Zeff looked away from Sanji and down at you, seeing that you already had your hand out to shake his, a nervous smile plastered on your face.

He liked you.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Zeff, sir," you said, shaking his hand. "I've heard so much about you."

Now, even though Sanji had corrected him before about you, it didn't mean Zeff wasn't going to say anything.

"Aw, come on now, the pleasure is all mine little lass," Zeff replied, shaking your smaller hand with his bigger one. "It's nice to finally meet the girl that Sanji raves on about all the time."

From his peripheral, he could see Sanji stiffen.

Your eyes widened, your hand going limp in his as you asked, "Raves on about? Who, me? T-to you?"

Zeff's smile only grew wider and more cheeky. "Oh yeah, all the time," he said casually, as you both dropped hands. He placed his hands on his hips again and nodded towards his son. "You should see just how much of his letters are about you. It's like I get a damn novel every other month about your relationship," he joked.

"Zeff-" Sanji started but Zeff wasn't done.

He was on a roll and nothing was going to stop him. The more he spoke, however, the redder your face became.

"Oh yeah," the head chef continued, "from as much as Sanji talks about the two of you, I thought you two were in a relationship and said 'I love you' to each other already."

After he said that, the room got quiet. You stood there, completely frozen with wide eyes and a flushed face, like a deer in headlights, while Sanji stood as still as a statue. The rest of the straw hats stood quietly behind you three with varying looks of shock and awe on their faces at the display before them.

"Sanji," Luffy said, breaking the awkward silence first. "You love y/n?"

"Luffy!" Nami hissed.

"I knew it!" Usopp loudly and proudly declared, pointing a finger to the sky as he turned and laughed at the rest of the crew. "See, the great captain Usopp always knows the sparks of true love whenever he sees it," he said, hooking his thumbs at the top of his overalls with a grin.

Zoro snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. You wouldn't know what true love looked like even if it smacked you in the face."

"Says the guy who doesn't have a girlfriend," Usopp smugly retorted with a laugh.

Before Zoro could say anything back, Zeff spoke up. "Hey, straw hats," he called, grabbing their attention. "Why don't you lot come into the kitchen and sit at the chef's table? I'll have Patty and the rest of 'em cook you a couple of steaks however you want, on the house. I'll even throw in a couple of beers too."

"I'm in," Zoro said without missing a beat as he started making his way towards the kitchen, not needing to be asked twice.

"Ooo, free beers? Show captain Usopp the way, please," Usopp said, following Zoro through the kitchen doors.

At the mention of meat, Luffy immediately perked up and forgot about the situation before him. "Steaks? Would it be possible to have more than one?"

"Sure," Zeff agreed easily and nodded towards the kitchen. "Eat too many though and I'll have you back on dish duty again to pay your bill."

"Deal," Luffy quickly agreed and followed after his first mate and sharpshooter.

With a shared look, Nami and Zeff started making their way towards the kitchen together, both ignoring you and Sanji.

"How do you like your steak cooked Nami?" Zeff asked conversationally before disappearing behind the kitchen's double doors.

"Medium rare, actually," Nami replied and slipped in after him, leaving you and Sanji all alone in the dining room.

It was quiet for a solid minute, neither one of you moving or making a sound.

"So," you started, clearing your throat and looking over at Sanji. "You, uh... told Zeff about me?"

But Sanji couldn't look at you. In fact, he was looking at everywhere but you. His cheeks were flushed pink and the tips of his ears were red. He looked down at the ground with his hands on his hips.

"Yeah," he said, forcing out a slight laugh that sounded more painful than anything. "I, uh, told him a bit about you. Could you tell?" he asked, a hint of painful and playful sarcasm in his tone.

You couldn't help but laugh at his attempt at a joke. You could feel your heart start to race as you slowly took a couple of steps closer to him. "Yeah, I could tell," you replied playfully. "You really love me, Sanji?" you asked him softly after a beat.

Turning his head to the side, you could see a blush crawl up his neck. It was so cute, you don't think you've ever seen Sanji be this flustered or embarrassed before. "Uh, well," he stammered, "I-I didn't want you to find out like this. I had a plan and everything. But Zeff and his big mouth had to ruin-"

"Sanji," you said simply, cutting him off. "Look at me."

Before obeying your command, Sanji took a deep breath, like he was bracing himself for the inevitable letdown and rejection he was used to receiving from women throughout his life.

When he looked down at you and met your stare, his eyes were filled with apprehension. "Yes?"

You wanted to do nothing in that moment but quelch his fears. "Oh, just come here," you said.

In one swift motion, you grabbed him by his tie and pulled him down into a kiss, capturing his lips with your own. You felt him stiffen in surprise, but once it hit him that you were, indeed, kissing him, he immediately relaxed and put his hands on either side of your face, his fingers entangling themselves into your hair, deepening the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your mouth moving in sync as you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Was this real life?

After a moment, you pulled apart, panting slightly for air. You both looked at each other, faces flushed, neither one of you expecting to share your first kiss in the middle of the empty Baratie dining room.

"I love you too."

The smile that broke out across Sanji's face was brighter than the sun. But before he could say anything, you both could hear Usopp yelling from inside the kitchen.

"Guys! They kissed! See, I told you they would!" He declared loudly before turning away from the small circular window. "Zoro and Nami, you each owe twenty berry! Come on, pay up!" he laughed like a high roller that just won big, making his way back into the kitchen.

At the sound of loud protesting and groaning coming from the kitchen, you giggled, hiding your face in his chest from embarrassment.

"Oh god," you groaned.

"Aw come now, no need to be embarrassed, Madam," Sanji teased. "If they're placing bets on us, might as well give them a show to bet on, yeah?"

When you peeked up at him, you could see a mischievous glint in his eye as he scanned over your pretty face and back down to your lips before looking back into your eyes. His look made your heart skip a beat.

"Sounds like a plan to me," you answered with a small laugh before you pulled him back down to kiss him all over again.

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1K notes · View notes

fanficimagery · 3 months

Text

Violent Little Thing

To the Sons of Anarchy, you're just Happy's neighbor that doesn't care for drama or the fact that they wear kuttes. But in actuality, you've dealt and probably have done far worse, and it isn't until you're kidnapped that they find out your secret.

Author's Note: Long time no see, huh? Does this mean I'm back? Hell no. This has been sitting in my drafts since mid-2023 and thought it was time to go out. For never having seen more than a few episodes, I love these SOA boys. I'm not super familiar with the lingo or clubhouse etiquette, so this is gonna take place away from that particular setting. Trigger warning for graphic violence and attempted sexual assault (it doesn't get far). Reader is gonna be a little… off the rails. Blame all the dark romance I've been reading lmao.

Before moving into your new home, you knew it was going to be a fixer upper. Fortunately for you, you loved working with your hands, and after having been banished to Charming in hopes of calming your inner demons, you were going to have a lot of time to do just that. But the joke was on your family because there was no calming your demons. People just needed to learn to not piss you the fuck off.

When you get to the house, however, you see that a majority of the work has already been done for you. The only thing left for you to do is paint the walls, rearrange furniture, and unbox your belongings. The electricity and water are already turned on, and wifi has been installed with your password on a sticky note.

The master bedroom is huge and you love it, but you don't have nearly enough belongings to fill it. Your queen-sized bed looks tiny and you immediately want something bigger. So heading back outside to your vehicle, you grab your bag that has your laptop inside and head back in. Setting up at your kitchen island, you search for a place that will deliver any type of food and beverage. You find a pizzeria just on the outskirts of town that will deliver to Charming, so you place a quick order. It's a forty minute wait period, so to pass the time you start looking up bedroom ideas.

You run across a California king bed, but none really catch your eye. What does catch your eye, however, are the DIY beds that touch from one side of the wall to the other. You take your laptop back to your bedroom so see if it's do-able, and come to the conclusion that it is. You'll have to add some floating shelves since you won't be able to have bedside tables, but that's perfectly fine with you. You then take the time to get down the measurements of your room because you still have to situate your dresser and mount your TV to the wall, and you need to make sure everything will fit.

Eventually your food gets there and, sitting at the kitchen island, you dig in. You slowly eat and drink your fill, and then place any leftovers in the already cool refrigerator.

Needing some bathroom necessities and sheets for your current bed, you unload your vehicle. You place each box in their respective rooms, but leave them mostly boxed up. And not wanting to get any TV's mounted or bed fully put together since you still have to paint the walls, you remain on your laptop to pass the time and send messages to your family to let them know you're okay.

It takes you a couple of weeks to build your bed frame, get in your special ordered mattress, and paint the walls to your liking. You do most of your building in the driveway, so you've become accustomed to the people living on your street, waving at them as they pass or call out a greeting. But there's one individual everyone seems to steer clear of or avoid eye contact with, and that's your next door neighbor who rides a motorcycle and proudly wears a Sons of Anarchy kutte.

You had first seen the intimidating, bald man when he showed up a couple days after you moved in. You'd looked up when you heard the rumblings of engines and watched two motorcycles pull into the driveway next door. You paused hammering for a moment, nodded at the two men who took a moment to stare back, and then went back to work.

Over the next few days, men came and went from next door. And each time, they were intrigued watching you work. But eventually your bed frame was finished and you had to situate it in your bedroom. Maneuvering the mattress was no easy feat, but you were not about to ask for help, and it didn't take you long to finally finish furnishing your home to your liking.

As busy as you've been, you haven't really had the time to eat a home cooked meal. So after everything, you took a trip to the grocery store and bought hundreds of dollars of food and drink to stock your kitchen with.

The air is finally cool and crisp, so all the windows to your home are wide open. You'd been feeling a little restless, so you opted to cook a meal that would keep you busy. Enchiladas, rice, and beans is one of your favorite meals, so after making sure you have everything, you put a pot of beans to cook. They have to cook for a few hours, so while that's going on you get online to check in with your family.

When the beans are done, you get started on browning hamburger meat. Setting a majority of the meat aside, you use only a bit for the enchilada sauce. You pour in water, flour, spices, and some canned chili until it's to your liking, and then heat up some corn tortillas before you start rolling the enchiladas. After they're in a pan that holds far too many for only you, you pour the enchilada sauce on top before shredding some cheese atop of it. Once that's in the oven, you get started on a pan of rice.

It's when the rice is boiling that your doorbell rings. A little tired and more than a little hungry, you grab up your beer after turning off the rice, and take a swig of it on your way to the door. Since the door is wide open, you can easily see who's standing just on the other side of the screen door. It's one of the Sons, one of the only two with brown skin that you've seen so far. But this isn't the intimidating bald one, this is the one with a shaved mohawk down the center of his head and a killer smile.

You arch an eyebrow at him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and you take another swig of beer as you lean against the door jamb. "Yes?"

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. "Hi. Uh, me and my boys are chilling next door and we couldn't help but smell whatever it is you're eating. You mind sharing the name of the place where you picked up your food from so we can go get some too? Smells really good."

Your lips twitch. "Who said I picked anything up?"

"You cooking?" His eyes widen. "Bullshit."

You huff a laugh and nod. "YN."

"Juice."

"Mhmm." You push the door open just enough so you can lean out and peer next door, catching sight of two men sitting sideways on the seats of their bike. "Just you three?"

"Yeah."

You hum again and then back into your home as the screen door shuts quietly. "I've been watching you guys come and go, nodding cordially when our gazes clash," you say. "If you're willing to leave your shoes by the front door, you're more than welcome to pull up a seat at the table."

"Forreal?"

"Sure." You shrug. "I never learned how to cook for one, so I might have made an entire tray of enchiladas that will most likely go to waste if someone else doesn't eat them."

"Oh hell yeah." Juice turns, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says, "Yo! Free meal! Get over here!"

You watch as one man eagerly gets off his bike, whooping in delight of free food. The other, the one you believe actually lives next door, casually gets up at a leisurely pace. You push open the screen door as they're stomping up your porch steps, and Juice introduces you to Tig and Happy. You do your best not to smile because Happy does not look quite so happy, but he grunts a greeting when you tell them your name.

As Juice steps into your home, he's quick to kick off his shoes and tell his boys to do the same. They do and then you lead the way to the kitchen, pointing at your table. "Siéntate."

"Ohhh. A Spanish lady," Tig muses as Juice translates for him to sit down as you instructed. When you glance at him, his wild-crazed gaze makes you snort. "I like 'em a little spicy."

"And I like 'em less talkative." Happy and Juice both snort, and Tig beams at your sassy retort. "Beer or soda?"

Tig and Happy take beers, and Juice takes a soda. You serve them each their own plate of three enchiladas, a scoop of rice, and a scoop of beans. You serve yourself last with a glass of water, and finally take a seat to dig into all your hard work.

"Goddamn," Tig grumbles after his first bite of everything. "This is some Mexican restaurant level shit here."

You grin as you eat at your own pace, feeling content at watching three grown men finding your cooking delicious.

"So what's your story?" Juice asks. "In all the times I've come around, it's just you here."

"That's because it is just me here."

"Why Charming?"

You take a moment to swallow your food, washing it all down with a sip of water as you lean back in your chair. Then glancing between each man and the patches on their kuttes, you ask, "Do you want the real story or the story I'm feeding anyone who asks in polite small talk when they see a new face in the store?"

All three men slow their eating, their gazes sliding up to you in surprise.

"What's the story you tellin' the locals?" Tig asks.

Placing a hand over your heart and changing your voice so you sound like a southern belle, you say, "Just that I just left a very nasty relationship and my family thought I deserved a fresh start away from the man who dared lift a fist in my direction."

Tig snorts. "And the real story?"

You chuckle as your voice goes back to normal. "My family thought I needed to calm my inner demons, so they banished me to Charming. Joke's on them, I've made peace with my demons. It's not my fault people keep pissing me off."

Tig and Juice laugh as Happy smirks at you.

"What'd you do to earn banishment?" Juice wonders.

You shrug. "I wasn't joking about the nasty relationship. I just leave out the small detail that once I was out of the hospital, I went crawling back to my dickhead of an ex-fiancé and plotted my revenge."

"Crazy and you can cook. Marry me," Tig says.

You shake your head at him, eating a bit more before finishing the story. "I was raised to take no shit from anyone. So after he put me in the hospital, I made him believe all was well. Then one night, when he least suspected it, I slipped him a little something so he was conscious, but paralyzed, and set fire to his house."

The three men freeze, but you continue eating as if it was no big deal.

"Did you- did you kill him?" Juice warily asks.

"Unfortunately, no." You pout and then laugh at their awed expressions. "He had nosy neighbors so they were able to get the firetrucks there as soon as they smelled smoke. But when my family found out, they said I was sloppy, so I got shipped out here."

"Yoo.. what the fuck?" A moment of quiet ensues and then Juice is laughing. "That has to be the craziest shit I've heard in a while."

"I highly doubt that." Your gaze drops to the patch on his kutte. "I'm sure you've heard, seen, or taken part of some pretty crazy shit." When you meet his gaze again, you smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Juice grins and then looks at Happy. "Your neighbor is cool as shit. I'm kind of jealous." The air of amusement lingers as everyone continues to eat. "So what do you do for work?"

"I do some IT stuff for my family." You shrug. "I can work from anywhere, so I guess I'll still be doing that. What about you boys? What do you do other than ride?"

"We work at Teller Automotive," Tig says. "Only car garage in town."

"Really? Do you guys have any openings this week? I need my oil changed."

"Sure. We'll leave a number before we leave."

The rest of dinner is spent with the men telling you what there is to do in Charming and asking how long you plan on staying. You're not really sure, but if you end up liking Charming then you have no issues setting down roots. And then when dinner is done and you've seemed to exhaust all the small talk topics, you plate up the leftovers and send the men on their way.

Over the next couple of weeks, you befriend your neighbor. You take your vehicle into Teller Automotive and Happy takes it upon himself to take care of it for you. Tig and Juice had kept you company, and introduced you to a few of their other brothers when they took interest in their new friend. You were invited to one of their parties and, after some pressuring, you went. Nothing shocked you, not even a few members of the club getting head in plain sight, but Happy apparently shocked everyone else by gluing himself to your side. According to the club President, Happy was normally found in the ring outside or fucking his way through croweaters, but that night he made sure that no one bothered you.

Then more often than not, Happy reaped the benefits of your cooking and appeared for dinner before taking leftovers home for lunch.

In such a short period of time, you grow accustomed to the stern biker's company.

One morning, you're startled awake by the doorbell ringing and a fist pounding on the door. You sit up and scoot out of bed, hurrying towards your front door in a groggy, yet panicked state. But before you pull the door open, you peer out one of the thin windows on one side of your door. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Happy and that the sky behind him is still dark.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open. "What the fuck, Hap? What's going on?"

With a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, Happy looks you up and down. "You always answer the door like this or am I just special?"

You freeze and then glance down, rolling your eyes when you remember you went to sleep in a gray wife beater, that makes it very obvious you're not wearing a bra, and a pair of hipster underwear. "Neither. You're lucky."

"Sure." You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks. "I forgot the bills were due and everything got shut off. Can I crash here until I get it sorted?"

Without missing a beat, you say, "Yeah," and step back from the door, opening it wider. "Shoes off. You know where the bathroom is and I'm pretty sure you can find the guest bedroom." You yawn and lock the door behind your friend. "What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"Happy," you whine. "S'too fuckin' early. M'going back to bed." As you pad back to your room, you don't hear any footsteps behind you. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"Can't help it. Might start dropping by early now."

"Do it and die, Lowman." Stopping and turning, you point an accusatory finger at him. "Do not come in between me and my bed. I will murder you."

His lips twitch. "Worth it."

. .

It takes less than a week for Happy to get his power and water turned back on, and then he's back at his house. Though there are times when he shows up for dinner, dropping off on your couch when he's too tired to walk back home. Normally you would mind, but Happy knew how to clean up after himself, so you didn't mind that it seemed he was practically half moved in.

One night, you get a call from your brother that they need you to come in and work on cracking the passwords on a few laptops they'd gotten their hands on. You agreed, but first you needed to arrange someone to look after your house.

The next afternoon, you show up to Teller Automotive. You find Happy on a smoke break and ask him for a favor. When you ask him if he can keep an eye on your house for two days, he seems surprised, even more so when you give him a copy of your house key. You tell him he can crash there and eat whatever food you have so long as he doesn't trash the place. He readily agrees.

And when you return two days later, you realize you should have specified that he could crash in the guest bedroom. Finding a nearly naked Happy in your bed isn't half bad, nor is the firmness of his ass when you smack a hand down on it to wake him up.

Immediately he jerks awake, twisting his body as he sits up, and pointing a gun right at your face. You laugh and lick the tip of the barrel while wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Wakey, wakey."

"You're a fuckin' pyscho," he grumbles, lowering his gun.

"Yeah, well duh. You should have had that figured out a long time ago." He rolls his eyes before turning to drop down face first back into your pillow, shoving his gun back under it. You grin. "Was there something wrong with the guest room you've been using?"

"No. I just didn't know how fuckin' massive your bed was. It looked lonely without a body in it."

"Mhmm. I'm sure." He grunts and you chuckle as you crawl out of the bed. "I'm gonna go pick up some breakfast from the diner. Want anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Gotcha. I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

. .

The dynamic between you and Happy ended up changing after that fateful morning. When he slept over, it was in your bed. You hadn't crossed the line past lingering touches or innuendos, but it was a given that he was the only person allowed in your bed. You didn't care for the croweaters at the parties his club put on every Friday night, but the two of you made a statement when he rolled up one night with you seated behind him.

The Sons nearly gaped as Happy amped up his protectiveness, pulling you between his parted thighs as he took a seat on a stool at the bar. Tig and Juice had walked over, and Happy perched you on his knee as you joked with his brothers. The croweaters didn't bother to hide their glares or sneers, but you merely smirked at their cattiness and took to scratching the back of Happy's head with your nails when you'd draped your arm around his shoulders.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax, the club president, had asked.

You shrugged and grinned. "We're friends."

"Friends don't stake claims."

"We're possessive friends."

Happy had snorted but didn't correct you.

From there on out, it was known that you were Happy's.

The Sons are relaxing at the clubhouse after a long day's work when blacked out Escalades and BMW's pull up. The atmosphere immediately goes from relaxed to tense, and the Sons flank their President when he walks out to the lot to see what the deal is.

Thug after thug exit the vehicles before opening the doors on two Escalades, ushering out four well-dressed men. None of them look like they'd be a person to fuck with, so Jax is extremely curious as to what the fuck is going on.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow arches as tattooed thugs flank the apparent important men.

"I hope you can." The one in charge reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. "What do you know about this woman?"

When Jax is shown a picture, he mentally curses. It's Happy's neighbor and a friend to many Sons. He keeps his expression neutral, before shrugging. "Nothing. Should I?"

"She's my baby sister."

"Oh hell…"

"YN never misses check-in and she's missed two," the man explains. "It's come to my attention that she's made some connections to Happy Lowman, Juan Ortiz, and Tig Trager- all Sons of Anarchy. Do you understand why I'm here now?"

"Fuck, man, we didn't know. What can we do?"

"You can start by questioning your men to see if they'd heard from her."

At that, Tig steps forward. "I haven't seen or spoken with YN in a little over a week."

"What about Juan or Happy?"

Jax looks at his gathered men, frowning. "Where are Juice and Happy?" No one says anything, looking as confused as their President when they don't see their familiar faces. Then raising his voice, he asks, "Has anyone heard from Happy or Juice today?" Nothing. No one utters a peep. "What about yesterday?"

"Jax." Opie has his phone to ear, shaking his head. "Both are going to voicemail."

"Shit." Then turning around to face the slowly darkening expressions of YN's apparent brothers, Jax asks, "How can we help?"

. .

When your eyes flutter open, every inch of your body is in pain.

"How the fuck does my hair hurt?" You groan. You try to sit up, but realize you're on your side, on dirt and hay, with your hands tied behind your back. "What the actual fuck?" Clearing your vision, you see that you're not alone. Happy and Juice are with you, but they're in chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and looking a little beat up.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Juice tiredly muses.

"What happened?" Maneuvering around some, you manage to sit up.

"Kidnapped," Happy says. "They injected us with some shit, but they gave you too much."

You grimace as you roll your neck. "Dicks." It's dim in the empty barn you're being kept in, but you can see sunlight through the cracks of the walls. There are stalls for animals on either side of you, all empty, and a table filled with various blades and weapons not too far away. Your aching arms are your main priority though, so you move into a crouch and wiggle your tied wrists under your butt. With a grunt, you fall backward and maneuver your hands until they're situated in front of you. "Ah. That's better."

"Get up and grab a blade so we can get the fuck outta here," Happy urges.

You do as you're told, mentally scoffing at the thought that these morons didn't think to bind your ankles. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky as someone had been watching from the shadows. So just as you're reaching for a blade, that someone jumps out at you and roughly pins you against the table.

Bent over with your arms above your head and someone pressed up right against you, you immediately start thrashing and cussing out whoever it is. Happy and Juice shout, and start wriggling in their own seats when a hand then pins you to the table by the back of your neck.

"So close, princesa." A man tuts and you jerk in his hold, but still he persists. Laughter causes you to look up, watching as another two men step out from behind Happy and Juice. "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will." Just then, a hand grips your waist and squeezes, and you freeze. "Just not yet. I have some questions for you."

"Don't you fucking touch her."

When you glance up at Happy, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. You know what he does for the Sons, but you'd never seen that particular dark look or glint in his eyes, and for a moment it steals your breath away. Then you remember that look isn't meant for you, and you squirm a little as the man behind you laughingly presses his pelvis into your ass. "Or what?"

Juice answers, "Or we'll fucking kill you."

That causes all three men to laugh some more.

"Doubtful. But thanks for the laugh." Then the man behind you focuses on you once again. "Besides, my business isn't with you, but with the princesa de la mafia."

You tense. "I don't know anything."

"Aw. Of course, you don't," the man coos. "I would hope that your brothers are smart enough to never let a woman in on their secrets. But then again, you are the baby sister of one of the most dangerous mafias in the United States. I'm pretty sure you know something that I can use to hurt those brothers of yours."

You manage to angle your head just enough so you can make eye contact with Happy. He meets your stare, and you see it subtly soften, but then he's glaring at the man holding you once more. "I won't sell out my brothers."

"No?" The man releases your neck, only to trail his fingers down from your ribs to hips. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face, but you do know there are other ways to break you and get you to talk, right?"

And then before you can answer, he's grabbing the back hem of your shirt and ripping it down the middle.

You yelp just as Happy shouts, "You motherfucker!", and squirm to get away. Across from you, Happy and Juice are pummeled a few times until they stop trying to break the chairs they're bound to.

The man rubs a hand up and down your back, fiddling with your bra strap, but never unsnapping it. You feel gross, but it's only when the guy reaches around to fiddle with the button on your jeans does red cloud your vision.

"Hey, Hap?" You manage to meet Happy's livid gaze. "Remember when I spoke about my demons?"

"Yeah."

"They desperately wanna come out to play."

"Shut the fuck up, you whore!" The man slaps you across the back of your head and you grit your teeth, biding your time.

Happy slowly smirks. "Then let them out to play, baby."

The moment the button on your jeans is opened, you scream at a pitch that startles every man in the room. Then pushing up as much as you can, you headbutt the man behind you. As he swears, you reach for the first handle you see and are pleasantly surprised to find a small machete. Then without even thinking, you whirl around and swing the blade, catching your would-be abuser in the neck with the blade.

Blood sprays as you immediately tug the blade free, leaving the man to try and cover his wound as he splutters on his own life force. From the corner of your eye, you see someone running at you, but another swing of the machete finds a home in the second man's face.

As the man falls back with a scream unlike anything you've ever heard, he takes the machete with him. Happy and Juice shout at you, and it's then you remember the third. He's running at you, a small blade in hand, and you reach for the nearest weapon. It's a metal bat and just as you rear back to swing, he swings first. The blade makes contact with your bicep, slicing it open, but you only feel the sting of it after you swing.

The bat clips the man in the jaw, stunning him. As he stumbles back, you advance. He sloppily swipes at you again, but you dodge it. The second hit with the bat hits true, catching him in the temple.

The man falls and you're quick to stand over him, bringing the bat down a third time.

The bat connecting for a fourth time makes Juice cringe, but Happy proudly watches on.

Thwack.

Thwack. A scream.

Crack!

"Shit. I think that was his skull," Juice mutters.

YN screams as she continues to wail on the man with her bat, caving his skull further and further in, to the point there's now a puddle of blood beneath his head and splattering with every pull back.

The barn doors open, and Happy and Juice tense when armed men start to file in, but they exhale with relief when they see Jax, Tig, Chibs, and Opie in the mix. All the unfamiliar men take in the scene with an air of indifference, but it's the expressions of the Sons that almost make Happy laugh out loud. They'd only known YN to laugh, feed them, or threaten the croweaters with violence. None of them, with the exception of himself, Juice, and Tig, knew the violence she was capable of.

"Uh, a little help?" Juice calls out. "My arms are killing me over here."

Tig rushes over, pulling out a blade to cut his brothers free. "What the fuck happened?"

"One of them threatened to rape her and she just lost her shit."

Juice is cut free first, and he immediately stands, rubbing his raw wrists. As Jax checks in with him, Happy is cut free.

"Boss, should we stop this?" Someone asks.

Happy looks over in time to see a guy in a suit grimace when blood is flung onto his pristine boots. "Do you want to get in the middle of that? You know how YN is. Let's just let her run out of steam."

As the guy steps back in line with a nod of agreement, Happy huffs and stands. He stalks over to YN until he's behind her. Then when she raises the bat high above her head, Happy lunges. He manages to grip the bat where it isn't slick and pulls it from YN's grasp.

Still very much livid, especially now that your weapon's been ripped from you, you whirl around to start screaming expletives and pummel whoever it is with your bound fists. Instead, arms are wrapped around you, keeping your arms stuck between your chest and another, and there's a gruff voice in your ear saying, "It's over. It's over, baby. The cavalry's here. You can stop now."

It takes a long minute for the voice to infiltrate the fog of rage, and then a moment to realize who's speaking.

When your struggles cease, Happy leans back a little to look down at you, but with his arms still wrapped around you. "You back?"

"Y-Yeah. M'sorry."

Happy grunts and leans his face closer to yours, and for a moment you think he's about to kiss you. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours as his eyes close, and he exhales with relief. "Don't be. That was hot as fuck."

You huff a quiet laugh as a bout of silence ensues, but then one of your brothers decides to ruin it.

"Hey, Lowman, we'll give you a million dollars if you give her your last name and take her off our hands."

You jerk in Happy's hold, turning to glare at all your smirking brothers. "Fuck off!" Laughter ensues at your disgruntled expression before Juice fills them in on what happened, and then Happy is tugging on your bound wrists so you look back at him before finally cutting you free. "Thank you."

One hand grasps the hair at the back of your head, gripping a little tight as he holds you in place so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get you home. You're covered in blood, and I need to take a look at your arm."

Glancing at your arm, you shrug. It stings, yeah, but it doesn't seem deep enough. And then just as you go to take a step, Happy swoops you up into a bridal carry.

It's then you notice that you, Happy, and Juice are all barefoot, and it's Juice who answers your unasked question. "You sleep like the dead, girl. Happy and I heard them enter the house, but they still managed to get the drop on us."

"I'm getting you a goddamn dog," Happy grumbles in response.

"Only if you clean up after it." He grunts and you grin. If he wanted a guard dog for you, then he was cleaning up any messes.

Outside the barn, suggestions are made about where to go now. Jax suggests the clubhouse, but at the wrinkling of your nose, Happy says you'll be going home. Your brothers mention not everyone can go because that many vehicles will draw attention, so Jax suggests sending your brothers' men back to the club with Opie and Chibs. They agree, and then you're loaded up into an Escalade with your brothers and Happy.

When you get to your house, Tig mentions that they had cleaned up and straightened your furniture after they figured out what had happened. You thank him and let Happy carry you to your bathroom while Juice takes the guest bathroom.

As Happy sets you on the counter, you watch as he gets the first aid kit from beneath your sinks. "They're gonna talk."

"Let them. The club already thinks we're fuckin'."

You snort. "Please. They should know by now that I'd never settle for a relationship where the guy gets to fuck around when he's on the road." Happy freezes with the antiseptic spray bottle in his hand before shaking himself free of thought and spritzing your arm where you were cut.

"Is that why you haven't given me the go-ahead to slip between your thighs?"

You smile at his blunt question and then wince when he wipes your arm clean. "Pretty much. I'm not a fan of my partner sticking his dick or tongue in some rando pussy, then coming home and doing the same to me." Happy grunts and you arch an eyebrow at him. "Would you be okay with me visiting my brothers and sucking someone's dick before coming home to you?"

"Fuck no."

"Exactly." You grin triumphantly. "So, unless you plan to stop dicking down croweaters or sweetbutts, the most you'll get out of me is some cuddling."

Stepping back, Happy tosses the used gauze pads into the trashcan and then reaches into your shower stall to turn on the water. Then looking at you, he demands, "Strip."

"If I fully strip, there's no going back. You're mine and mine alone." You hop off the counter, slipping off your ruined shirt without batting an eye. "I was calm and collected at your parties before because we're friends, but that all changes after this. I won't take it easy on any woman touching what's mine."

Happy smirks as he eyes you in your bra and jeans, and then strips off his shirt. "Good."

You've seen the man shirtless only a handful of times, but seeing his ink never fails to give you pause. You reach out for the first time, tracing the snake tattoo that takes up a majority of his chest and upper abdomen, before you trace the various happy faces on the side of his waist. You feel his abdominal muscles twitch and then between one heartbeat and the next, Happy's crowding you against the sink counter and angling your head up.

His kiss is as aggressive as you figured it'd be, his tongue sliding against yours and teeth digging into your bottom lip. You give as good as you get, nails digging into either side of Happy's waist as you kiss him. Then when the need for air arises, you pull back and try to catch your breath. "Well okay then."

Moving out from Happy's reach, you strip, uncaring of your nudity and then step into the steaming shower. Happy isn't too far behind you, but you're not too interested in seeing him fully naked as you are cleansing a stranger's blood from your body. Standing under the waterfall, you watch as the shower floor turns red. Happy presses in close behind you so he's under the water as well, and you straighten up before leaning your head back onto his shoulder, smiling softly at his hardness that presses against your ass.

"No funny business, Lowman. At least not until we've eaten a fuck ton and slept for a day or two."

He grunts. "Agreed."

You immediately start washing your hair, and you're surprised when Happy takes it upon himself to lather up some soap on your bath pouf to wash your body. For the most part he behaves himself, but when his thumb oh so casually brushes over your nipples, you slap his thigh and pay him back when it's your turn to wash him. He grunts when you take his dick in hand and thrusts into your soapy palm, but you quickly release him to finish washing his body.

"Fuckin' tease."

"You started it."

You get out of the shower first, smirking as Happy tells you he'll be out in a moment. You know exactly what that moment's going to entail since his hand is already stroking his cock before you can even find a towel.

"You gonna want something to eat?"

"Send Tig to get burgers and fries."

"Alright."

Back in your room, you can hear a muttered conversation from somewhere in your house. Clutching the towel around your body, you stick your head out your door. "Tig!"

"What?"

"Happy said to go get us some burgers, fries, and Cokes!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' maid?!" Tig appears in the hall, hands on his hips.

You grin at him. "No, but I do have a maid's costume. Wanna try it on?" Tig gapes and you laugh at his expression. "Come on, Tig. Please? You can grab some cash from the junk drawer."

"Fine. But only because I know Hap will murder me if I don't, not because I'm picturing you in a teeny tiny maid's outfit."

"Sure, buddy. Thank you!"

Tig grumbles as he turns to march out of your house and then you worry about getting dressed. You dress in nothing but a sports bra and boy short underwear, and then with a reluctant sigh you head to the front. Everyone's in your kitchen, sitting around your table, and your brothers groan when they see how little you're wearing.

"Oh, shut up. You've seen me in clothes like this before."

"In tights, not underwear," one brother grumbles.

"Just be glad they're boy shorts and not a g-string."

All your brothers groan yet again whereas the Sons find the interaction amusing. You take a seat at the table, grimacing a little and touching at your raw wrists.

"Let me get that for you," Juice says. He leaves to, no doubt, grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Then taking a seat next to you, he asks, "Did Hap disinfect your arm?"

"Yeah. Just spritz it again and wrap it. It'll be fine."

As soon as Juice gets to work, Happy enters the kitchen in nothing but a pair of jeans hanging off his hips.

"Jesus," one of your brother's mumbles. "Are people suddenly allergic to clothes around here?"

You grin as Jax arches an eyebrow at his friend. "You have clothes here?" Happy nods and sits, and you quickly introduce him to your brothers while Jax looks at Juice to say, "You seem to know your way around this place too."

"It's because they practically live here when they're not at the clubhouse," you say. "Hap's moved his shit in my room, and Tig and Juice have slowly taken over my guest room." Then glancing at your brothers as if you didn't just drop somewhat of a bombshell on Jax, you ask, "So what the hell happened?"

Juice taps above one of your raw wrists and you situate them so he can disinfect them.

Your eldest brother meets your gaze. "There's a new family in town- Jimenez. They're trying to make a name for themselves and thought they could intimidate us." You scoff as your other brother's chuckle. "When they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they came up with the bright idea to target the weak link. They thought they had the perfect candidate when they found out we had a baby sister."

"Joke's on them, you're fuckin' psycho," another brother muses.

"I'm not-"

"We literally walked in on you bashing a guy's head in."

"And let's not forget the whole reason you're in Charming is because you tried to burn down your ex's house while he was still inside."

"Or that one time you wrecked your car into that other girl's car all because she broke your friend's heart."

"That cunt cheated on him. She deserved every bit of karma I dished out."

Jax snorts, shaking his head. "Christ. You and Hap are gonna be a pain in my ass."

"You know it."

Tig shows up just after Juice is finished with your wrists. Juice then dishes out the food to you, Happy, and himself, and you get up to grab drinks from the fridge. As you settle back down, Jax and your brothers watch in surprise at how the three of you go to town on your provided meals.

"So, what exactly does one do as a mafia princess?" Jax wonders.

Chewing the food in your mouth, you only answer him after taking a drink of your soda. "I'm the family hacker. If they need a computer hacked into to gather information or scrub information, I get called in."

"So, in other words, you're female Juice," Tig says.

You laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Juice grins and you reach over to fist bump him.

You continue eating as Jax speaks with your brothers, listening as this small portion of the Sons of Anarchy are filled in about what business your family gets up to. When you're finished eating, you stand and start gathering up the trash to toss. While you're up, you grab yourself a glass of water and some Ibuprofen. Then after downing four pills, you head back to reclaim your seat at the table, only for Happy to gently grab you by the arm and tug you down onto his thigh.

Your brothers don't care about your new chair, but Jax, Juice, and Tig can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax wonders, gesturing between you and Happy.

As you drape an arm behind Happy's shoulders to settle more against him, you smirk. "What's the matter, Teller? Scared?"

He huffs and then stares at Happy, but the man beneath you merely says, "Gonna start drawing up a crow. Does that answer your question?"

The kitchen goes eerily quiet and then…

"Holy shit. Hap's actually gonna take a woman," Juice says in awe.

"This is a momentous occasion. We gotta throw a rager." The glint in Tig's eyes has you narrowing your own eyes at him.

"You just wanna see a girl fight. Don't you?"

"Hap's been possessive of you since you first showed up to the clubhouse, but now that you're staking a claim, the thought might have crossed my mind."

"Are you sure you wanna see that?" One of your brother muses. "YN might traumatize a few poor souls."

Tig smiles. "I look forward to it."

You roll your eyes at Tig's excitement about possibly seeing you fight and your brothers chuckle. The Sons really had no idea what they were in for when someone tested your patience.

Standing, you keep a hand on Happy's shoulder as you say, "Well as much as I love, like, and appreciate all of you, you need to go. I'm exhausted and I still need to sleep off whatever I was drugged with."

Jax grins. "Is that code for us to get the hell out so you can bang Happy's brains out?"

Snorting, you shake your head as your brothers all grimace. "No. I'm seriously exhausted. The fucking will come later after we're well rested. I have a feeling I'm gonna need loads of energy for Hap."

Your brothers all make noises of disgust as they stand, and you take a moment to hug and kiss each of their cheeks on their way out. You promise to call when you're feeling better and then you're ushering the Sons out as well.

Locking up after everyone has left, you head to your room where you find Happy stripping off his jeans. He's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as he pulls your blanket back before sliding under and you pad over to do the same. You meet him in the middle, laying on your side as you drape one arm over his abdomen. With your head on his arm, you snuggle closer and Happy reaches for your leg to have it draped over his thigh so you're as close as can be without actually laying on top of him.

"Were you serious? About the crow?" You ask right before you drift off.

"Does that freak you out?"

"Not really. But if I get your mark, you're getting mine."

Happy huffs. "And just what is your mark?"

"My lips and name." You run your hand across his abdomen before walking your fingers down to one of the few empty patches of skin, below his belly button and right beneath where the snake's tail curls. "Right here."

"Above my dick, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

Happy grunts and then squeezes you a little tighter to him. "We'll see, princess. Now get some sleep."

#happy lowman imagine #happy lowman x reader #happy imagine #happy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #happy lowman #juice ortiz #tig trager #jax teller #dark romance

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voidfxndoms · 2 months

Text

Angst prompts ☣

partial source: thief_queen on Wattpad

"You never mattered to me."

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to lie and say I love you?"

"I don't know who you are anymore..."

"Please wake up"

"You weren't there when I needed you most."

"Screw it, we're done. I can't deal with your drama anymore."

"Don't you blame me!"

"You're taking their side?"

"Don't leave. Please."

"I regret it all."

"Why won't you let me help you? Let me help you!"

"Don't you get how much you mean to me?"

"Go. Just... go."

"I used to love you..."

"I don't want your help."

"I want to hate you. But I can't. And that- that sucks."

"I wish once, just once, you would love me for who I am."

"You're always leaving me."

"You're such a disappointment."

"You disgust me."

"I wish I'd never met you."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"We were just not meant to be."

"Don't push me away."

"I'm not your punching bag."

"It hurts when I realize I'll never mean as much to you as you do to me."

"I wanted to believe you loved me."

"You made me think I actually mattered."

"Tell me you don't want to leave. Say I'm enough to make you stay. I know it's not true but please- just say it."

"How could you stand there and pretend this isn't your fault?"

“Tell me I’m wrong. Say it. Please.”

“Don’t give me that look. Did you really expect things to be different this time?”

"Can you just- for a minute, can you pretend that I mean something to you?'

“Oh my god, you love them. And they don’t love you back. How perfect.”

"Give me one good reason, and I'll stay."

“The one day you notice I’m gone, I’m supposed to feel bad for you?”

“I know you did the best you could. But it wasn't enough.”

“No wonder you’re not afraid of the dark. Nothing outside your head could be as scary as what’s inside it.”

"You dug your own grave."

"I can't even look at you."

"Did you really think I would simply forgive and forget?"

"Stay away from me."

“I was drowning right in front of you, and you were too busy to notice.”

"I won't fall for your little games anymore."

"I didn't mean it."

"I had finally forgotten about you. I had finally started to live again. And now you decide to come back."

"Just forget about me."

"You need to let me go."

"Stop lying to me!"

"You ruined everything."

"You never really loved me, did you?"

"There is no fixing this."

"I hope you got what you wanted."

"You're pathetic."

"Don't look for me."

"You can hate me all you want. But I know I'm right."

"Do you realize you're trying to justify the unjustifiable?"

"You don't own me."

"I hope you're happy now."

“You looked right at me when you said it. Your eyes told me you meant every word.”

#angst #writing prompt #dialogue prompts #story prompt #prompt list #writing prompts #story prompts #story ideas #writing ideas

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scented-morker · 9 months

Text

Enha when their actress partner films with a hot actor

jealous boyfriend enha! established relationship, actress reader, 1164 words, requested!!

Heeseung

He pretends he's not phased at all

He knows you love him obviously, you spend like four hours a week crying and telling him how pretty he is and how much he means to you

But that was before he knew it was THE Song Kang

"Baby, he's literally the prettiest person ever!"

"You think he's prettier than me?" You pout

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to"

Homeboy is SWEATING watching you guys film

Literally saying a hallelujah when there's no romance between your characters

But when you come back and tell him he was right that it was the prettiest person ever he gets mad about it

LIKE YOU SAID IT FIRST ???!

But he wants to be the only boy you think is pretty 😔

Won't let you escape his grasp for the next week

Jay

Listen he likes to act all confident, but deep down he is a little bit insecure about his looks

So when you tell him you're filming with one of the actors who made "worlds most beautiful" list

😐 he is not impressed

On the outside he's all "oh that's cool"

But on the inside he's screaming crying throwing up

Wears the outfits he knows make you weak the whole week leading up to it

I'm talking turtle necks, rolled sleeves, rings, all of it 😵‍💫

His masterplan is working, and you get so affectionate you don't even want to leave him to film

He lowkey feels so silly about being jealous when on a film break you bring your costar over and introduce him to "the love of my life Jay"

Jake

Literally SO POUTY

"Noooo, baby do you haveee to??"

Acts like it's the worst thing to ever happen

"What if you just quit your job as an actress?? I can take care of you!! I'll pay for everything!! You'll never have to work again!"

"Jake, I like my job"

"But I thought you LOVED me!"

Insists on going with you to set (also leaves a hickey on you that your makeup artist is very mad about 😭)

You have to ignore him the whole time you're filming because you know he's making those injured puppy dog eyes and you just can't handle it

He literally is hanging out with the actor during one of his breaks tho so ???

He's all "yeah bro you're awesome" so you think it's all good now

But then you go over to them and he gives you the most mind melting, earth shattering, blush inducing kiss ever right in front of your coworker

You will never recover

Sunghoon

Tells you he's more attractive than the other guy 🤪

You tell him because you want to be open and warn him

But he's all "okay and? He's not better than me, why should I be worried?"

You're like wow my boyfriend is so mature and cool

But you realize very quickly that he is, indeed, worried

"Hey y/n, be honest. Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?"

"Hey y/n, do you think idols or actors would make better husbands?"

"Hey y/n, do you think onscreen chemistry ever transfers off screen?"

"I prefer whatever color is currently on your head, you over anyone of any profession, and I wouldn't know because I don't need to worry about that seeing as how I'm in a very happy relationship."

He grumbles at your answers, mad you caught on

He's not one for pda but he does bring you a bouquet and your favorite drink to the film sight <3

Sunoo

The guy was one of his favorite actors!!

He was so so excited for you to work with him, until he found out he was your love interest 😐

"YOURE GONNA KISS ANOTHER MAN?!?"

"Sun, he's married." 😒

"YEAH UNTIL HE FALLS IN LOVE WITH YOU AND GETS A DIVORCE!"

He boycotts the actors other shows 😭 whenever you guys hang out and watch dramas together he'll turn it off if the guy comes on screen

Eventually gives up on drama nights and makes you watch a bunch of enhypen performance videos instead

"Wahhh he's so handsome! Even more handsome then that actor, don't you think?"

"Yes Sun, you're way more handsome."

He's fishing for compliments but you don't care, willing to give him all the reassurances you have

You think he's gotten over it by the time filming comes up

But lo and behold... he's sent you an entire coffee truck with pictures of the two of you and messages about your relationship 😭

Jungwon

He wants SO BADLY to be okay with it 🥹

He was so supportive, celebrating with you when you first got the role and now coming to every filming that you have

Except he's noticed the slowly developing love story between you and the hottest guy on the show

So when you get the script for episode ten and read it to him he knows it's coming

"Oh, so you're like... gonna kiss someone else?"

You literally want to burst into tears, he's so precious and he looks like a little sad cat and just- 😭😭😭

"Yeah, but we've both been very open that we have partners! His girlfriend is on set all the time too! And you can totally be there when we film it!"

He shudders, "I'm not sure I want to"

But he goes anyway, and you introduce him to your costars partner

So now they're standing together, making small talk and looking away every time they say action

"I'm gonna need a drink," she mumbled after her boyfriend has to get his makeup fixed because of your lipstick on him

"Yeah, me too"

Riki

Listen, he is your number one fan

He’s seen every episode and won’t let you read him the script because he wants to find out with everyone else

He checks Twitter about it all the time too

So when soompi reports that there’s a new, very attractive guy on set— he sees it immediately

“Hey ynie~ can I come to filming with you?”

You’re so suprised, because he never wants to come with you

“Really? You’re not freaking out about it being spoiled for you?”

“I just want to be with you 🤷🏻‍♀️” he says it so nonchalantly like you’re not literally turning into mush because of it

“Okay!”

So fast forward, your hair and makeup is done, costume on, and you’re finally getting ready to film

You’re on set while the scene before you is shooting, and your boyfriend lets out a gasp

“Who is that shirtless man over there?”

You look over and shrug, explaining the new character

“Why is he shirtless??” Man is so fixated on this

“He’s always like that.”

“WHAT?”

There’s been a shirtless actor walking around you all days of the week and you hadn’t said anything

Steps up the pda immediately, holding your hand during off times and loudly cheering for you during shooting

By the end EVERYONE knew you were dating

2K notes · View notes

iznsfw · 4 months

Text

Ms. Kang Hyewon

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

9,122 words

Categories | femdom, mommy kink, degradation, angry sex, choking

Content warning | blackmail, degradation, Hyewon isn't so innocent here

Well, well, well, look who came back with Day 3.

My promise remains. Expect more, but on separate days. I won't run away with your money like a certain pre-

Thread isn’t claustrophobic. It slips through spaces not even your fingernail could pierce apart. Effortlessly, too. It isn’t afraid of being knotted up. It just needs guidance: a pinch to lead it through the eye and a pull to seam it through the hem.

You wish you wielded the same fearlessness. It’s thinner and more fragile than you (highly debated) yet it’s hardened to its life. The only thing you’re granted as a similarity to it is the need for guidance, not all of that shit about courage.

Maybe that’s why you became a fashion designer.

Needles have their own strengths, too. They’re not cowards to inflicting pain for aesthetics. Why do you think they stab so effortlessly through fabric and silk and skin and whatnot? They sharpen themselves through softness, and all that edge goes straight into the process.

And sometimes, your fingers.

“Fuck.” Your reverie is broken at last. From your thumb, a trail of red leaks. You’re used to the minor cuts and wounds, but the blood really does something to you. It reminds you of how fragile human anatomy is. One uncalculated move can end it all.

“You good?” asks Eunbi.

Suck on your thumb. A metallic taste settles over your tongue. She peers at you curiously; wave your hand at her dismissively to tell her it’s fine. This is everyday for you, like you said. Your heart will pump anxiously but that goes away, too. It’s all a vestige of time.

Flatten the vest top on the table. Wait, it’s not exactly a top yet if fringes of thread splay from the edges. You still have to work on that. Nothing is something when it’s not completed. It’s either you finish it grandly or leave it in pathetic tatters.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just a little nervous,” you reply.

“I mean,” Eunbi laughs as she fixes her short hair into a ponytail, “she is Kang Hyewon.”

Not that she needs to remind you. Your nerves are in a wreck already. You’ve been replaying the pros of the situation in your head like a favorite song. Working for Hyewon would look good in your resumés. If time sees fit, you’d have your own line and everyone would want to wear it. Your name could be a staple of fashion, the god of gods. Something like that.

It only sucks that you’re painfully new to this world. This is the first time you’re this far from your family and friends. Seoul’s a far cry from your humble town. It’s the home of everything that matters. Nights of staying up drawing and designing couldn’t harden you for an industry that sways and shakes out the unfit.

This is your chance to find out if you’re one of them.

“The superstar who’s about to wear my shitty clothes.”

“They’re anything but shitty. You have seriously good ideas.” Always, Eunbi comes in to reassure you. That’s why you see her as a mentor. “She wouldn’t turn down wearing couture if she didn’t see potential in what you make.”

See, you would never have agreed to any of this. You’re a fresh graduate from some fashion school, and the only models you’ve worked on are the runway rejects. Fixing a sloppy first draft on a stick-thin, soulless girl is different from designing and dressing up Kang Hyewon.

She’s everything—model, actress, singer, and idol. She’s a gem for every brand out there. They’re all dying to get her to be their ambassador. Every director with a complete brain wants to cast her for their new drama.

And it’s her who can lift you to heights in your career. So you’d be an idiot not to seal the deal.

“Have you worked with her before?”

As your needle sews a story of fabric, Eunbi’s words whittle her story with Hyewon. Turns out, this is only her second time working with the star. She confirms that Hyewon is truly gorgeous in person with those god-given full lips and hardset eyes.

Apparently, first impressions are right after all when it’s with her—she’s a silent, withholding woman who doesn’t talk outside of necessity. Eunbi tells you her nerves were in knots the first time, but also informs you that as long as you do your job for her properly, there isn’t gonna be any problem.

“Just be careful in what you do and say,” Eunbi whispers. She peeks over at your nearly finished piece. “That’s turning out really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Look proudly at your handiwork. It’s a sleeveless top fashioned from denim, with a V-shaped curve at the stomach. You’ve attached strips of more denim on the front that are sewn on with threads that match the blue of the ocean, embedded into the chest to prevent dullness. You think it’s turning out pretty good, too.

You would’ve gone on smiling if it weren’t for what you remembered. “Wait, why do I have to be careful?”

“She’s not, like, shy or anything. Just really unfiltered when it comes to feedback. She told me the eyeliner I did on her was shit, and that I shouldn’t come back if I planned on doing that again.”

Doubts about the beauty of your design rise. It might look good in your eyes, but what if it doesn’t in hers? She’d probably see the lack of color and call it a monstrosity. She’s got the type of power to get away with brutal words, to leave your little self-confidence in pieces.

The leg-hugging jeans and vest now look painfully average to you. There’s no debating that she’d look good in it, but there’s that constant back-and-forth argument in your head about whether or not Hyewon would like it.

“Were you hurt?” you ask.

Eunbi wipes red lipstick from the edges of her mouth with the mirror’s reflection as guidance, then smiles. “She’s the kind of woman I’d let do more than hurt me.”

You don’t know what that was about, but you’re not one to pry. You don’t have the time anyway.

Assistants have poured into the room. It’s your sign to put in more work—their arrival means that Hyewon is about to come very soon. They’re all dressed in their uniforms, the kind that looks good but not too good that it takes away the fact that they’re just staff.

Eunbi shifts her weight from one stiletto to another. “Are you done?” she asks. She gazes over at your sewing as she taps anxious rhythms on the vanity table. Notice how she’s taken off her acrylics and in turn shows her cruelly bitten fingernails.

You huff. “I’m trying.”

Stick a red-studded pin through the denim to keep the vest in place. What shade of blue did you use again? Staring for lengthy minutes at your messy table doesn’t help you find it. Your chalks have left pink powder on the wood. Your threads are unspooled and everywhere. In the midst of it all, the star’s vest sits, still waiting to be finished.

“She’s getting here in five!” Yena shouts.

“Any updates there?” Eunbi says pleadingly to you, eyes full of tears.

“I said I’m trying, Eunbi.”

“Then try harder, fuck!”

Her hands have abandoned their rhythms and are squeezed up into tiny, helpless fists. She keeps peeking out of the dressing room as if she’d die on the spot if Hyewon were there already. This is the first time you’ve seen Eunbi this beside herself. Even her crew is shocked. Her fear infects them too and now all sets of scared eyes are on you. They’re depending on your speed for their careers. If you fall short, they fall short, too. It’s a domino effect of failure.

Yena pushes aside the hangers of clothing to frisk for the makeup kit. Chaeyeon has her hands in her air while Minju whimpers behind her. They all know one thing for sure: you’re never gonna finish on time.

Your needle fits and slips, fits and slips, fits and slips—

“Can’t you go any faster?” cries out Eunbi.

The thread almost pulls the rest of the fabric along it when you pull furiously. “Unless you want me to get stabbed in the fucking wrist,” you say, “I can’t.”

You prick yourself multiple times trying to speed up. Push the layered denim down. It’s like drowning a needle, letting it go up from the waves of clothes for air, then drowning it again. However, you don’t care for any casualties right now. You don’t care for deaths either. All you want is to do is finish this piece.

You hear three short knocks on the door. Your world stops, but your sewing doesn’t. You can do this. You can still make it look somehow finished.

“Ms. Kang!”

Curl.

Thread.

Knot.

You’re done. It’s safe to turn around.

All of the women along with Eunbi have bowed deeply. Standing in front of them is the straight-postured form of the adored celebrity. The assistants look like they’re an estranged cult of some sorts who’s worshiping a goddess who’s come to earth.

Strangely, you find out that, as you stare at Kang Hyewon, you understand.

You can now grasp the idea why she’s ventured into so many fields: she can do it all. She can be it all.

Her hair is as black as night, and so are her irises. Her expression tells you no background, not even of a troublesome drive or a good meal. No, not any of that, for Hyewon’s face is a serious little look of professionalism. It’s the kind people of her status wear—celebrated doctors, movie stars, activists. But for some reason, it looks so much hotter on her.

It would take skilled mathematicians and scientists to find out what’s behind her neutral expression, but it doesn’t take a degree to know that she’s downright beautiful.

The pictures her dedicated fansites take of her truly don’t do justice to her attractiveness. Her face is smaller than a child’s. The nonchalant stare in her eyes makes her look out of this world, which could be said too for her preppy clothes. She’s a fashion icon for the younger generation after all.

A natural pair of plump lips doesn’t show a sign of a smile. Nevertheless, she’s a beautiful woman. You assume that it’s how it is for her everyday, just like drawing is your daily routine.

“Hello.” Hyewon’s voice is surprisingly feminine yet husky. She looks at you all indifferently, then places her bag on a nearby chair. Each action of hers is minimal and measured.

“Would you like to get dressed, Ms. Kang?” asks Eunbi, her voice a pitch too high.

She nods.

You hand over the jeans and shirt. Make a beeline for the exit. There’s a reason why an all-female staff was hired for Hyewon. You were taught in school that you best not dress them up directly if they’re a celebrity and you aren’t known in the industry yet. There’s all the reason to fear: hidden cameras and microphones, leaked footage, the like. While you’re not a man whose intentions are dark, you still follow protocol.

“What are you running away for?”

Your shoes stop paving the way to the door. Was that Hyewon? “What?” you say.

Eunbi winces. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. You don’t state that in that tone to a woman of that class.

Hyewon sighs audibly. “Can you look me in the eyes when I talk to you?”

You’re cold yet trepidation prickles your skin like fire. Slowly, almost comically, turn around. Her coat is off, leaving her in a skirt and a sleeveless undershirt on which she’s crossed her arms above. So how can you look at her directly? That body of hers is shockingly easy on the eyes.

“You’re the fashion designer, right?” she asks.

Smile awkwardly. “I, uh—”

“Then why are you leaving? Come over here and help me. I want to see if you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m, a little, uh, actually—”

“You’re actually what?”

Your mouth’s dry. Eunbi and her crew look too scared to remind her that you’re an amateur. You haven’t dressed up a star and you definitely aren’t a professional.

But what can you do? Look at her—a woman who could crumble your career into shards if she said so and blacklist you from the industry forever—and tell her no?

So, you approach.

Is it a blessing that you’re granted the honors of removing her underclothes? Or a curse?

As you undress her, you’re given the affirmation that her body is more than easy on the eyes. It’s fucking to die for. Her waist isn’t concerningly tiny, but shows a defined curve that elevates to her torso. Her breasts are large for her frame, barely fitting the size of her lace bra.

“Woah, what are you doing?” you say, eyes wide at Eunbi suddenly unclasping said bra. You feel like a Victorian man catching sight of ankles.

Eunbi looks confused. “Didn’t you say a bra would ruin the look? And that we should use nipple tape?”

Hyewon stares at her, then looks at you, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, right.” You chuckle tensely. “Sorry.”

Your lips are pursed to keep you from hissing in embarrassment. Now you probably look like a creep. Your fright and wariness are taking control, and you have no idea what to do.

You conveniently close your eyes when the bra’s taken off. Take the vest from Yena and raise it above Hyewon’s head. No matter what, you’ll keep your eyes up. Not below, where her breasts are sure to catch you off guard; not to the side, where they might be assuming you’re everything bad; but up. Nowhere else.

“It looks beautiful on you.” Minju’s smile is less nervous now that the job is done.

Her remark is nothing short of the truth. The garment slips onto Hyewon’s body like water. The defined carve of her clavicle stands out above the conservative neckline. Still, her bare arms alone will already have people thinking of something. The jeans accentuate her slim long legs elevated by a pair of expensive heels. She doesn’t need makeup to look good in what you sewed for her. Her body and face do the job.

Hyewon doesn't respond to the compliment. She simply sits down on the swivel makeup chair, crosses her legs, and pulls out her phone. Her thumbs twiddle with a game you’ve seen her advertise before. She’s true to her endorsements.

Minju carefully fills the brims of her eyelids with sharp cat eyeliner. Hyewon still doesn’t look up from her phone. You guess she’s used to people adapting to her and not the other way around.

You like the touch of the fierce red lipstick Eunbi applies on her later on. It’s a bold statement, something that goes like: It’s me, Kang Hyewon; this is the face of a woman who can destroy you, and I promise that you’ll love it.

“You look great, Ms. Kang,” Eunbi compliments her cheerfully, clicking the lipstick back.

Hyewon stares at herself in the mirror. She’s a silent observer, taking in her reflection and studying it closely.

A lunar eclipse personified, a smile stretches on her lips that releases your held breaths. “I know.”

Mirrors lined with shining diamonds. Words that spell the house of fashion emblazoned in lights. Expensive makeup behind glass. Bags that are worth your tuition sitting on displayed pedestals as if they didn’t know their own worth. The event is a never-ending sea of vanity for the wealthy and the west. You can’t believe you’re playing a part in it, although you’re a sheep among well-dressed wolves.

Crowds of reporters and photographers wait at the main hall. There’s no questioning who they’re here for. Although Jang is undoubtedly a big name, so is Hyewon. They were right to recruit her. You’ve never seen a crowd this big, even for fashion. You wonder how much they paid her to be the ambassador. Must be millions when all the other houses are dying to have her. She doesn’t look like one who kindly allows lowballing.

Neither does this man. He’s grand in his custom Victoria Jang and shoes that have the glimmer of stars themselves as he stands at the center. He must be the MC; he has a name tag to his breast pocket and a mic in his fist.

“Dude, did you know Anya Taylor-Joy’s gonna be here?” Rafael tells you.

“The chick from that cool chess movie?”

“Yeah,” he replies. He gestures to the small screen that shows her holding a lipstick to her jaw. It would be hard to see it behind the scrambling reporters. Luckily, as the designer, you scored a nearby spot backstage. “Jennie, too!”

The two are gorgeous, but you’re honestly more interested in Hyewon. If people see she’s wearing your clothes, they’d want to hire you, too. She doesn’t follow the trend; she is the trend. Soon, you’ll see Korea filled with women wearing the same shirt, the same jeans, the same style…

“We’re proud to present Jang’s first store in Korea,” says the MC. Yep, you were right. “This is a monumental stepping stone for our founder, Ms. Jang Wonyoung. Please welcome her with a hearty applause!”

You know all about Jang Wonyoung. She’s a self-made woman whose passion for beauty got the attention of the public, especially the western world. She’s always busy despite her tender age of nineteen: performing onstage with her group IVE, traveling, founding a new school in meager areas. She’s almost at the same level as Hyewon in terms of stardom.

Wonyoung comes out from the background, dressed fashionably as always. A polite smile decorates her glossed lips. It’s caught by the flashes of cameras and the reporters’ cheers.

“Hello, thank you for coming.” She brushes back her fringe and folds her hands. “Opening a branch here in my home is an achievement I’m forever grateful for. I would like to thank you all greatly for the success it’s brought about.

“Please,” she says, “take the time to immerse yourself in our array of products. Try a new trendy look with Jang Beauty—”

She extends an arm to the variety of products protected under firm glass. There’s powder, eyeliner, and blush. Actually, there’s a little of everything. There’s colors fit for every complexion, dark or light, and a palette of rainbows.

“—or flaunt your own style with our new arrival bags and purses.”

See, they’re the bags which immediately give the impression of expensiveness. The accessories are reserved to warm or light hues accompanied with Wonyoung’s signature rabbit logo. One even features her signature, stylishly drawn on quality canvas.

“Our helpful staff are here to answer your questions and assist you, but for now, please meet our muses.”

The camera shutters multiply when Kim Jennie enters the frame. Another “it” girl, she’s from a globally loved K-pop group whose influence couldn’t be denied even by the worst liars. She made all the buzz for Jang when a news article that quoted Wonyoung’s adoration for her was released. As expected, social media received the news happily. They made parallels with Wonyoung and Jennie, created fan accounts, and bought from Jang, even if the house initially opened in the United States.

Wonyoung’s smile is wide. You think you see a little of yourself in her. There’s certain pride in seeing someone loved and adored wearing your design.

Jennie waves briefly to the crowd before settling in a poised stride stage left.

Anya Taylor-Joy comes in next. Rafael makes a joke about how the press would have a difficult time trying to translate her name into Hangul characters correctly. She answers a question from the crowd sweetly with a translator’s help, and stands a yard from Jennie. Seeing the two women side by side stuns you—Jang really did emphasize how there’s beauty in everything and everyone, including those from different sides of the world.

“And finally, we would like to present Jang’s new ambassador.” Wonyoung’s beaming positively. “Welcome to Jang, Kang Hyewon!”

Suppressed screams fill your ears. The women at the mall can’t believe a friendly outing to the mall grabbed them a chance to see her in person. She’s the kind of girl who’s everywhere, and still manages to make you look. To make you want to be her or be with her. Perhaps those two at the same time?

You stare at her. Hyewon is flawless. Her slight tan is a nice break from the whiteness of the cameras. Her eyes seem to single out everybody in the crowd. The ambassador stands next to Wonyoung, a hand on her own hip, and lets a slight Mona Lisa smile paint her face.

Perfection.

How does she do so little but still attract everyone? You’re not an exception. You find yourself forgetting that you made those clothes—she owns them now. They’ll be associated with her name and not yours.

Do you even have a problem with that?

“Jang’s vision is to highlight beauty in everyone,” Wonyoung says. “Ms. Kang Hyewon is the perfect ambassador. She is an idol, singer, dancer, model, muse, and everything you can think of. She is the personification of beauty and versatility. We are proud to have her.”

You would be, too.

You were here to make a name for yourself, not fanboy over her. Here you are anyway doing it.

Hyewon stands next to Wonyoung and nods humbly. “I’m honored to be named the ambassador for Jang.” She bows deeply. Her hands are together on her stomach. “Please expect more from us because we will deliver.”

Perhaps that’s a statement bolder than the red painted on her lips.

“To the name of beauty!” a reporter raises a glass and chugs it. You don’t know where that came from, but it draws collective giggles.

Wonyoung laughs. “To the name of beauty!”

Hyewon jokingly raises an imaginary shot high in the air. The simplest actions don’t bar her from being beautiful. Just look at how her hair falls perfectly over gorgeous shoulders, how her hips stick out at the sides of the jeans—

How the sound of fabric ripping loudly stuns the crowd.

Your eyes go wide. The left strap of her top has torn apart. The two aidless halves collapse on the sides uselessly. The attire sags from the front and leaks the view of one of her breasts. Maybe they should have told her to keep the bra on—her left tit with nothing but nipple tape on is painfully shown off to hundreds of people.

Hyewon’s eyes fill with alarm. All confidence is lost as she tries to cover her exposed breast up. But the deed is done. Worse, the flashes don’t stop. The photos will soon take to the internet and, regardless of her power to bend things to their will, can never truly be eradicated. The articles will go viral, too. No one will forget this moment of Kang Hyewon finally showing vulnerability.

“Ms. Kang—” Wonyoung says in a thin voice. She didn’t imagine this special day would take a drastic turn. She awkwardly laughs, because what else can she do? As rich as she is, she can’t pay a crazed scientist to implement a memory-erasing chip in these people’s brains. The event is officially ruined.

And it’s all your fault.

Still, she generously steps in front of Hyewon to help. Similar to every attempt to salvage her dignity, it’s useless. The ambassador she relied so much on is already walking away. She’s leaving everything behind and won’t look back. Tonight is a night of many firsts, and right now, this is her first time retreating.

Aside from the sounds of phones and camcorders, all that’s left to hear is the furious clicking of Hyewon’s heels. Her strides are short and quick.

One step, five steps, ten steps… then thirteen.

It takes a total of thirteen steps for Hyewon to exit and come to you.

You couldn’t be an unluckier dead man.

Hyewon is the grim reaper. She wields fury instead of a scythe, wears now defective clothes instead of a dark cloak. The imminent loss of life is frightening regardless of being faced with a pretty woman. Anyone would get on their knees and resort to the unthinkable to experience this with the celebrity right now. So why are you as cold as a corpse?

“You.”

One word is enough to make you want to die early.

You look forward while your steps go backward. Your feet can pave the longest reversed path and you’d still be left with no escape. Hyewon is faster than you are. The rest of the staff are in the crowd or in another room; they can’t help you. Nobody can tell her to stop.

You doubt she’d listen anyway, and you know because you’re looking in her face: the face of death. Gone is the blasé mood surrounding her, the mystery in her that people would pray rosaries to venerate. What’s taken its place is an Ares-born wrath that’s at odds with her Aphrodite visuals. Her eyes are large with anger and short angry rasps leave her mouth.

“Ms. Kang,” you say, your words a mute plea. “Really, I apologize—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Hyewon’s forearm knocks into your neck and catapults you to the dressing room door. The wood gives way, much to your horror. You barely make it on the plush chair with how your feet struggle to keep upright.

She looms over you hauntingly, tall in her black heels. It’s a reminder that she really is above you in everything: positions, status, wealth—

Intimacy?

Why is she straddling you? You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, much more where to look. Adding to her center literally being seated above your crotch, she didn’t even bother to fix her wardrobe malfunction. There’s no might left in you when her fingers curl into your collar and tighten it up to your neck.

“You little shit.” She coils the fabric around your throat harder. Wracked coughs fight their way out of you. “An incompetent one, too. This is all your fault.”

Her voice is rougher when she’s angry. It’s like she has a switch that she clicks on and off to be what she has to be: the Kang Hyewon everyone idolizes; and the one people would be afraid of. It doesn’t take a wicked guess to figure which one you’re encountering now.

“Ms. Kang,” you say weakly, “please.”

You inhale raggedly through your nose. Hate how comforting her expensive perfume is to your senses when she’s doing everything but making you at ease. Hate how attractive she is. Hate how you ruined the day that was supposed to change your life forever. Hate how a small part of you doesn't hate being under her.

For others to understand you, they need to put themselves in your shoes. If an A-list star who’s as gorgeous as Hyewon was snugly seated on their lap, wouldn’t they feel the same? Wouldn’t they feel the stir in their pants, the heat in their chests?

You’re fucked in the head. But she is, too. You’re a match made in the depths of hell.

“I-I can explain.”

Your pulse beats beneath her palm. Its faltering rhythm brings cruel satisfaction to her, making her face spread into a wicked smile.

As Hyewon’s almond eyes close into tyrannizing slits and her lips pull at the ends into a closed smirk, you realize why she rarely grins. You’re fucking terrified. It’s a simper reserved for little satisfaction and great anger. How can a woman be this beautiful yet this cruel?

“Explain then,” she allows. The ampleness of her lips has little distance to your mouth. “But if you think for one second I’m letting you go, you’re as dead as your career.”

Your career never started. You were young once. You had dreams of making yourself known and making your family proud. If today never happened, if your needle seamed the thread just a bit tighter, you still would have had a chance to go on.

Now you’re neither young nor old, with neither a future or past.

Your dreams are broken, just like her clothes.

“Please, Ms. Kang. I was in a rush. I didn’t think it would undo like that.”

She laughs. It’s another rare occurrence that scares the shit out of you. It transforms into a sarcastic little scoff when she meets your eyes again. “I gave you days. I gave you a fucking chance to prove your worth when I could’ve hired any dickhead out there. And what did you do? You screwed it up.”

With each word she spits, your collar wrings around you more compactly. You feel hot and breathless but to Hyewon, your skin is deadly cold to the touch. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let up.

“I’ll pay for the damage,” you offer bleakly. “I’ll apologize. I’ll admit that I was wrong to… hahk, to the media. Just please don’t blacklist me.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t enough.”

It isn’t? What could you do? You’ve already said you’ll pay more than you can to amend. You told her you’d go to the press and bare your wrongdoings. What else does she want? She already has everything.

“You wanted to see me naked, didn't you?” Hyewon snarls. “You planned it all out.”

You choke, and it’s not because of her hands digging into your flesh. “N-no! I swear—”

In the olden days, prophecies were told by an oracle. People would go on quests and seal their fates in accordance with them. Now, they’re in the little things, like jokes that suddenly bleed into reality, and, in your case, deja vu.

You say deja vu because you know the sound of ripping fabric all too well.

It interrupts your words and catches you by surprise. Hyewon has wrenched apart the buttons of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your underwear peeks out above your pants, as well as the stomach you haven’t taken the time to tone in a while.

“There,” she says. She slinks down your lap till her knees touch the floor and she’s tearing your pants, too. More buttons are sent flying in the air. “Now we’re both naked. Isn’t that what you wanted? To get to say that you fucked Kang Hyewon?”

Your pants add to the pile of clothes and buttons on the ground. You can’t even blush or protest; Hyewon is unstoppable when she’s angry. Her soft hands, unlearned in the ways of hardship, somehow have the strength to cut and slice and pull at your clothing. She’s not leaving one speck of fabric on for modesty.

“I, I don’t want to fu– to have sex with you, Ms. Kang.”

“Baby.” Hyewon deadpans, laughing a little as she traces the curve of your cheek. “Everyone wants to fuck me.”

She takes off her shirt and tears off the nipple tapes. Her pretty brown nipples are uncovered, and you can’t stop staring. Her body is a model of perfection in every category. You’ve got her flat tummy, curved waist, wide hips, and breasts that really should have a warning sign lest you harm yourself looking at them. Unfortunately, they don’t have a warning label, and Hyewon catches your wandering eyes.

“Fucking pervert.”

You look away, but there’s nowhere else to stare, so you say, “No, please, I didn’t… no, I didn’t—”

“I know what I saw.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“That’s not how you say it.” Hyewon suddenly wraps her hand around your stiffening cock. Her squeeze is painful. “You sit there, bow your head, and say: ‘Sorry, mommy.’”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?”

You yowl when she squeezes harder and starts to pump you to full mast. It’s a painful pleasure, a guilty danger. Hyewon’s eyes trained on you are even more so.

“You heard me. If you want to save your career, do as I say.”

You whimper into the eerie silence as the woman curls her fist around your member as if she were choking it. How did you land into this situation? How were you so fucking stupid that you thought a week would be enough to finish the piece?

Now you’re here, in this enclosed dressing room, with a celebrity cruelly torturing your penis and demanding that you call her mommy. Look to the right then to the left and see that no one’s coming to your rescue. This is the real world, and as absurd as it is, you’re on your own.

Hyewon’s fingernails threaten to pierce the sensitive skin. “Be a good boy,” she growls.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, mommy.”

(You mean it, you mean it, you mean it.)

“That wasn’t so hard. But I’m not done with you just yet.”

She leans forward. Your face twists while she wraps her soft tits around you. Her cleavage is so deep, so full that your length is completely lost in it. You moan embarrassingly, and it’s too late to cover your mouth when she’s already smirking.

“Because you wanted to see my tits so bad,” she says, rubbing her tits in opposite directions on your member, “I’m gonna fuck you with them. I don’t care if you cum like a little bitch or not; I’m not stopping.”

You’re starting to leak. Hyewon’s sweat combined with your precum lubricates you and allows for more delicious, slippery friction. She pushes herself up and down repeatedly, continuously trapping your cock between her amazing boobs. She could do this forever. On the other hand, you’re close to losing it.

“I’m not gonna stop. You brought this upon yourself. You understand me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

A deserved silence. Her eyes speak of an immediate death that follows a wrong answer.

Close your eyes. You know what you’re supposed to say. “Yes, mommy.”

Strangely, she’s exactly the type of woman who deserves that title. Her stony expression doesn’t evaporate from that beautiful face although sweat’s started to roll down it from how mercilessly she titfucks you. She shows no signs of sympathy for your situation. Why would she when she’s accustomed to control, and you’ve just taken that from her? You took her control from the people who’ve made her famous. This is your punishment.

Each pleasured expression you make draws a haughty smile from her. It’s as inspiring as critical acclaim to her, for she cups her tits tighter around your shaft and pumps away. You’re her toy for tonight. If she can’t regain her control over the public, she’ll show you why she deserves to have it:

One, she’s tireless.

Her lower lip is under her teeth as she spills effort into persecuting your cock. She’s unblinking—she’s too focused on your reactions to close her eyes. It’s not like she’d care if your reaction is violent or pained or good. Hyewon would still go on fucking you.

“Of course you like this.” Spit covers your cockhead, a sign of her distaste. “You perverted virgins are all the same.”

“I’m not perverted, mommy.”

“What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you’re not a virgin?”

“I’m, n-not a vir—”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

She continues grinding her pillowy breasts on you. Their undersides touch your balls while her nipples brush against your stomach. Whatever move she does makes you shiver.

If you had no escape from the enigma that is Kang Hyewon, neither did your cock. Her bust makes sure of that. It surrounds it as if determined to suffocate an ejaculation out of it. The precum from your tip just isn’t enough.

Two, she doesn’t rely on anybody.

Nobody told her to fuck you. Nobody told her to strip and use you. Those are the choices she made by herself, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t perform them with dedication. She doesn’t need anybody’s help in ruining you when she can do it herself.

So she does. Hyewon sinfully lets saliva drip from her chin and onto her chest to help speed up what’s already a vicious pace. The cold drool makes you hiss. Her warm breasts are both a reprieve and retribution. They carry out soft comfort but give out your quick punishment at the same time. It’s funny to think how they’re as versatile as she is.

Three, she’s the only one who’s ever made you cum like this.

“Mommy!” The word was never intended to be said. But it’s unavoidable; Hyewon’s too hasty, and it’s becoming too much. You can’t hold back on letting her know her ownership of you.

You can’t hold back the messiness of your cum as well. Bursts of white jet her chest and her neck. You whimper to your wits’ end and she doesn’t stop in spite of it. She keeps overstimulating you till the leak of semen becomes a mere dribble.

Hyewon climbs on your lap again, her vagina placed just in front of your spent shaft. “You’re getting used to it, huh?”

Your eyes are on her, as everyone else’s are when she’s under the lens of a camera. You’re horrified; almost every part of her torso is covered with your cum. Her tits are coated grandly with strong splashes. The white liquid drools down her tummy, then to her jeans.

You just came on Kang Hyewon.

Push her away, cursing quietly. You’ve no reputation left to save now. No dignity, no image, nothing. You should have fought back. A junior stylist shouldn’t be getting intimate with a superstar.

“Ms. Kang, I should go,” you stammer. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

None of this was supposed to happen. You wish you could have turned back time and stopped yourself from going to fashion school. If you didn’t go, you wouldn’t have gone on the path of designing and wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to design for her and Jang. It’s all so fucked up that you’re actually reconsidering religion.

Hyewon considers this. To your relief, her professional tone returns. You’re able to breathe now. It’s over.

“You’re not gonna help me clean up?” she says finally.

“Oh… yes, I’m sorry.”

There’s no tissues or washcloths around. You have to be resourceful. It’s painful wiping up something so inappropriate with the shirt you designed, but it’ll do. The semen embeds into the denim during your dutiful clean-up. It’s humiliating—the only thing that comforts you is that, after this, you and Hyewon will part ways and never speak again. You both have something to hold over the other. Keeping your mouths shut will keep you safer than sorrier.

More worries surface. Did someone hear or see you? Are there hidden cameras here? You’ll have to inspect the place, especially after you think you don’t remember Hyewon locking the door.

“Thank you.” Hyewon crosses her arms and looks down at the stained vest that started all of this. “Now suck your cum out of it.”

You want to cry. This is far from over. You’re not done here, and you won’t be until she says so.

She cocks her head. “I paid for it, and I don’t want flaws,” she says matter-of-factly. “So you either suck your filth out now or I might just drop the Somun magazine editor a visit.”

Stare at her with tear-filled eyes. What can you do?

Attach your lips to the blemished denim. Suck on it forcefully. The taste brings more tears and some even slide in pathetic drops down your face. How did it all come to this? The amount of hard work you put in school surely did not earn you this, right?

You were raised too soft. Maybe hanging out with the rebellious boys back in elementary would have saved you her domination. You could have negotiated with her, maybe even argued that you weren’t allowing this to happen to you. But those happen in parallel universes, where you’re a little stronger, a little wiser. Here, you’re just a man who’s not particularly excellent.

“Good job,” Hyewon says. “I guess you’re not that much of a lost cause.”

Her backhanded praise is sweet to your ears rather than mocking.

She clicks her tongue. “All that cum should have went in my pussy, you know.”

You hang your head to hide your blush. You’re glad thoughts aren’t visually presented. Otherwise, Hyewon would put you down further.

Hyewon places a finger below your chin and tilts it up. You’re forced to meet her eyes. There comes all the hate again. It pours into your heart freely like a fountain. It’s not hate for her, but for yourself. If you didn’t crumple that easily for women like Hyewon—women who like control and give orders and get a kick out of humiliating other people—maybe a whole other fate would have been in store for you.

Fright always gives way to yearning. She’s a bitch who thinks too highly of herself, although understandably so. She hurt you so much and through it all, you still want to hear her praise you.

She smiles.

Yep, Kang Hyewon is irredeemably, irrevocably evil.

“And you owe me a whole lot of it,” she says, and adds, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “baby boy.”

No horror film can scare you like she does. She’s a phantom of beauty and power who will haunt you forever. All this could be done and you’d still think about her. You’ve become another one of Hyewon’s fanatics who allows her to do anything and everything to them.

Hyewon shoves you on the dressing table. The cold white surface cools your skin, but you know it’s about to get heated soon. She’s spanned her legs over your hips again. Her aggressive hands grip your shoulders. Somehow, you never want them to leave your touch.

Then you’re kissing her. The other way around, you mean—Hyewon initiates it by closing the distance and biting your lip. She’s a starved kisser who devours you like a wolf. Her tongue curls around yours and she dives in deeper. You’re deprived of any breath, any source of oxygen. Part your lips to kiss her back, but she’s already locked her mouth on them.

Hyewon sweeps her hair back, readying herself for the final act. If mirrors could blush, you have no question that they would upon seeing her. Attractiveness is a natural thing to her—you can see it in the sway of her arms, the thickness of her thighs, and the way she carries herself. She acts like she’s entitled to everything, and that includes your cock.

She’s too fucking hot that you’d ignore all her cons and give it up to her.

She knows that. She circles her core around your tip. You moan immediately. She feels so good, and you’re not even inside her yet.

“You like that?” she sneers after she pulls away. “You like my pussy on your cock?”

She grinds her slit along your cockhead. Her moans are surprisingly sensitive, high in pitch and airy. You’re granted exclusive listening to them when you hit her clit. She moves it there particularly, because those moaned questions she asked you are just for her own ego. She only cares for her own pleasure, and it just so happens to be ignited by a weak man whose type is crazy, unhinged women. Whose type just so happens to be her.

She’s so wet that sounds of drenched squeaks fill your ears. You’re nothing else except certain that she really, really gets off on being such a bitch. Her wicked leer couldn’t ever fade from her face, not if you keep flashing those exhausted needy expressions.

“Answer me,” Hyewon says. She glides her fingertips from your broad shoulders to your neck. A threatening grip, a deadly fate. “You know mommy doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Do you want me to ride your cock, hm?” Every fragment she speaks makes her choke you harder. She’ll send you to heaven then hell, where you’ll meet her all over again. “Do you want me to keep you inside me until I’m all done and satisfied?”

“Yes… oh fuck, please!”

“I fucking thought so.”

She sinks herself down in one go. You cry out. Hyewon’s tight pussy welcomes you and traps you right up to the hilt. The hard grip of her cunt disallows you a break; her pace is one of anger that’s unrelenting and harsh.

Her thighs crash down on your lap and rise, a cycle that never ends. You’re left even more breathless by her soft breasts smothering you. It’s the best way to go out. They bounce marvelously in front of your face, your nose pressed to the little space between them and your mouth kissing wherever it can. You lick at her tits until you’ve licked all the cum that might have remained on them.

Your lips attach themselves to her nipple. As an effect, the star’s cunt clamps around you with the hold of a guilty pleasure, a taboo vice. It doesn’t intend on letting go unless you decide you want it to go. But you have the feeling that your probable pleas won’t budge Hyewon’s heart.

“Mommy’s baby boy,” Hyewon says. Her tightness grows and so does the volume of her heavy gasps. “Mommy’s slutty baby boy who’d do anything to get this pussy.”

You want to tell her that what she said is far from the truth. You didn’t want to cause a wardrobe malfunction. You didn’t want to anger her. But now, when presented with the heat of her impossibly wet vagina, you realize you actually would. You try to meet her expectations, nursing on her nipple and guiding her movements with your hands on her wide hips. What you want is for this to be enough, but it just isn’t. Hyewon always wants more.

You can see it in the crash of her butt on your thighs, the shouty cries that she lets go of, the grip on your neck that she doesn’t. A woman accustomed to the scrutiny of the public eye would never let a strand of her hair go knotted. But when it comes to punishing people, to making them the accessory she carries, she doesn’t care anymore. Her usually prepared and counted movements become frantic. Her quietness isn't a case of the current times when she’s using you as her little fucktoy.

Kang Hyewon is a mess, and you are, too.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your yells crack and fade—she doesn’t.

Hyewon doesn’t let up. Her fluttering walls make sure to leave your legs stagnant. You can feel her manicured nails scrape your skin and her thin legs hug your hips. The hours she spends in the gym can’t be that long for her stamina to remain this strong. Maybe she has a personal trainer, a healthy diet. Maybe she owns some weights around the house.

Maybe she owns you.

“You sound pathetic. Just keep sucking those tits.” She removes her hand from the base of your neck, but leaves you asphyxiated anyway when she pushes her face into her breasts.

The mirror bears your combined weight. You try to lift your head. Hyewon chases your movements. You’re forced to inhale through your nostrils, taking in her powdery perfume and lightly sweaty scent, and keep your mouth busy on her boobs.

You flick her nipple with your tongue. She holds you to her chest and promises no escape. To be fair, you could stay here, smothered by her breasts forever. You’d have little complaint when they’re heavy and soft and sweaty. Your mouth stays attached to them and brings her on the road to orgasm.

“Greedy little boy,” Hyewon scoffs. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you? I bet you held it out just so I could keep riding you.”

Your cock feels sore already. Although her insides are warm and soaked enough for the entering and leaving to be slick, you’ve been trying to hold back for so long you think you’ll cry. You have to tell her. Perhaps it’ll lessen her anger.

“I’m gonna cum, please, mommy.”

She cruelly bounces faster. Her hips are that of a veteran dancer’s, grinding to and fro and rotating. You’ve figured it out: the reason why she’s never had a dating scandal is that no man would be able to handle her. She’d drain him nightly. She’d treat him like a sex toy to use when she pleases. Everyone wants to be hers, but no one is ready for her.

“Do you deserve to cum inside this perfect pussy?” she asks. She splays her lips and grinds upwards. You groan loudly. “You’re lucky if I even spit on you. What makes you think you can explode in mommy?”

“Please, I’ll do anything!” You tighten your core to hold it back. It’s useless. Your orgasm is coming anytime now, and Hyewon won’t let it happen. “Mommy, let me cum, mommy, please!”

She slaps you across the face. Why did the sting turn you on? You’d argue her words sting more. “You made me look like a cheap slut out there!” Hyewon shouts. “I gave you a chance and you ruined it, you little shit. So now you have to earn your fucking worth!”

Her riding becomes intense by the minute. She was angry earlier, and now she’s furious. You’re her canvas for a fuming painting. But in her eyes, you’re not a masterpiece. She’ll do away with you to the point of destruction. You’re very near to crumbling.

“I’ll do anything, please!”

You’re desperate. Your stomach’s starting to ache from the violence. You can’t quite feel your legs. All you feel is an impending heat that squeezes your insides. Your hips jerk needily and tears fall from your face. This is the first time you’ve felt this humiliated and aroused. Something about Hyewon makes the two emotions merge and leaves you wanting more.

Hyewon’s close to cumming, too. She’s shaking as her chaotic bounces are sloppier than before. “Say it, say you’re my little boy toy! Say you’re a slut for mommy!”

You’re a quivering body beneath the celebrity. You’re letting her use your cock and choke you and slap you, all without repercussions. There’s only one kind of man that would let someone do that to them. You can’t believe you’ve become one.

“Yes, yes, mommy owns my cock!” you scream, nodding over and over. “I’m her toy and she can do w-whatever she wants to me, I won’t mind!”

Her juices roll down your cock and wet your pubic area. She’s spiraling out of control. The only thing she can control is you, making you say the most humiliating things. Her wild eyes lock onto yours, and through them you could finally see some backstory: Kang Hyewon was born into wealth and control, and she’ll die with them, too. She’ll always fight to have them when they’re taken away from her. She isn’t afraid to cross limits.

“Yes, yes, yes! More!”

“I only want mommy’s pussy even if I don’t deserve it! I only do what she says, I’ll give up everything to be mommy’s plaything, please!”

When she cums, she looks frenzied, shaking all over the place and spasming around you. Her cries of pleasure become erratic. They almost sound not human. A human would not dare do what she does to you. She fucks you like an animal, frightens you like a supernatural phenomenon, and moves like the waves of the sea.

Kang Hyewon is out of this world. You’re an unnamed rock floating in the galaxy she navigates.

You bust just the second she removes herself from you. Abashing strings of sticky whiteness land all over yourself. They’re paired with needy groans that you can’t stop even if you wanted to.

Hyewon observes your ejaculation unamusedly. She takes a step backward when a jet of cum sprays in her direction. Look down at yourself—look down at your lap and the table blotted with your orgasm—and think of how dirty you are. You’re so dirty and pitiable that you came all over yourself, like you just masturbated in front of her. That’s why she doesn’t want to touch you.

“Y-you didn’t let me cum inside,” you say disappointedly. You did everything, said everything, and risked everything for nothing. An orgasm isn’t worth it when it isn’t done inside Hyewon.

“Like I said,” Hyewon replies, apathetic, “you don’t deserve it.”

Stare at her. It’s through staring at her with surprise that you realize you’re dirty on the inside, too. Hyewon can live her life secludedly and fade from the industry. She can leave this country, reinvent herself, marry somewhere, and you’d still be thinking about her. You’d always think of this night that left her appearance and yourself ruined.

That’s her charm. She’s permanently going to be in your mind—you’ll always picture her wet cunt, her alluring breasts, her beautiful face. You’ll strive for her again and again while she doesn't even care if you live or die.

Women like her… why do they have to be who you want?

“You have no future in this industry,” she continues.

She pulls her jeans up her legs and slips the button through the hole. Oh, you really will remember this night. You see you and Hyewon in the little things. She searches through the closet for a spare shirt. Watch her slim fingers that previously wrapped like ribbons around your throat now wrap around a hanger. She slips her arms through the tweed coat and seals it around the front.

“But your drawings aren’t… horrible,” she says. That’s the best compliment you can get from her. You know not to expect more. She shrugs as she closes the buttons together. “Maybe you’ll end up as a painter.”

A painter? You’re a fashion designer, not Van Gogh. Dresses and pants are your forte. You can’t switch to a whole new job when sewing is what you know.

Your heart sinks. You really broke the first step to a career you worked your whole life for. It’s just not your path to take anymore.

Hyewon looks around for something to write with. She settles for the eye pencil lying on a table. She forces you to open your palm and writes something on it. She closes your fingers above it.

“There you go. Consider this a farewell gift.”

She came into your life fast and she exits it just as fast. You can’t help but feel a strange sense of yearning. After all she’s done, you don’t want her to go. Why do you despise her departure when you prayed for it earlier?

Who would take you now?

You sigh. Peek at your hand curiously. In tidy handwriting, Hyewon’s message says:

KIM MINJU - CURATOR

XXX - XXX - 2001

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augustinewrites · 9 months

Note

you should absolutely add naoya to the story!!!! i would LOVE some drama between gojo and that loserrrr i just know they hate each other so MUCH

useful context for this fic can be found in three conditions!

"'salt to taste,'" satoru reads, already confused. "what the hell does that even mean?"

tuesdays are always his day to cook dinner - meaning the second you smell something burning, you kick him out of the kitchen to take over - but you'd left about left twenty minutes ago to pick the kids up from karate, so he's on his own.

shrugging, he pours a questionable amount of salt into the bowl of vegetables he's been attempting to season.

after tossing in the rest of the spices, the next step is to cook over medium-high heat. so he flicks the stove on, leaning against the counter as he waits for the pan to heat up.

that's when a knock sounds at the door.

he doesn't move, hoping whoever it is just gives up and goes away. he wasn't expecting any guests, and the backup food he'd ordered shouldn't be arriving for another half hour.

but whoever it is bangs on the door this time, clearly impatient and wanting to get on his nerves.

huffing, he flicks the stove off and stomps to the door, yanking it open.

"you've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"still as uncouth as ever, i see," naoya zenin scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"and you're still as ugly as i remember," he fires back. "no wait— uglier."

that gets the reaction satoru's hoping for, naoya scowling as he says. "seems the rumours are true. my dear relative's run away to become a gojo whore."

satoru barely manages to keep his hands off the blond's throat, because killing him would start an all out war with the zen'ins, and he isn't ready to make waves (yet).

it wouldn't take much force to just put his head through the wall, would it?

"just tell me what you want so i can say no," he says instead, voice fighting to remain steady.

god, he hates the smug look on his face as he asks, "how much do you want?"

"excuse me?"

"how much do you want," he repeats slowly, as if he were talking to a particularly stupid animal. "for her. and the fushiguro boy."

it takes satoru a moment to realize what exactly he's asking for, the request so outlandish that he can hardly believe it. "how much do i— you're insane."

he goes to slam the door, but naoya is quick to catch it.

"it's only right that they should be with their family, don't you think?"

"and that's you?"

"if we're being sentimental about it, yes."

"well, they're not for sale," he says firmly, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into his pocket. every molecule of restraint is quickly leaving his body. "nor will they ever be. now leave."

stupid as he is, naoya senses the thinly veiled threat and turns on his heel, satoru keeping his eyes trained on him until he disappears down the hall.

_____

"naoya stopped by."

"what did he want?" you ask, lips already pulled down into a frown as you take another dish to dry.

"you and megumi."

"of course he does," you sigh, setting the plate aside and resting your palms on the counter "they want ten shadows."

"what are we going to do?" he asks seriously. "what if next time they don't ask?"

"there's not much we can do right now," you tell him grimly. "it’s the zen’in clan, satoru. we just need to keep our heads down and focus on getting megumi into jujutsu tech. at least he won't be so vulnerable with all of us around—”

“hey, hey,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “i’m not going to let anything happen to you both. you know that, right?”

“i know,” you smile, kissing the tip of his nose. “that’s why i’m not suggesting we’ve halfway across the world.”

“that’s not a bad idea. we could move somewhere hot and tropical. i’d get to see you in a swimsuit almost everyday…”

“you’d get sunburnt,” you correct, laughing as he nudges his face into the crook of your neck.

“i’d happily let myself get sunburnt if it meant you were safe,” he murmurs into your skin. “the kids would probably eviscerate me if i let anything happen to you.”

“of course they would. they’d starve otherwise.”

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

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dovabunny · 4 months

Text

GhostSoap AU - Replaced

Cw: angst

They'd been a (secret) thing for almost a year now. Soap was smitten, but respected Ghost's boundaries to keep it private.

But over all these months, Ghost never said he loved him too. He never makes future plans with Soap either.

He keeps turning down invites to go on leave together or meet his family,l. When they're out on missions will always elect share a room with Price over him.

Soap starts to feel like less of a secret lover and more like... Ghost's dirty little secret.

Like he's just being used.

(Read rest below)

It all blows up one night.

The gang had been at a local bar. Some flooze had apparently been making eyes at Ghost and Gaz noticed. Thinking he's being a good friend and wingman, he introduced the two.

Soap had to sit and watch Ghost talk to her at the bar for 20minutes.

Everytime she touched his arm or bought him a drink he wanted to rip her off him.

But what hurt more was that Ghost didn't immediately turn her down, instead entertaining her attention for a drink or two. He didn't tell Gaz he wasn't interested.

Soap was just a spectator.

"So? Get her number?" Gaz eagerly asked when Ghost returned.

"Nah. Not my type. Too chatty."

Gaz rolled his eyes. "Picky bitch. She was pretty. And if you're not into chatty why do you keep him around?" He playfully winked at Soap.

It was a joke. Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Not when Ghost didn't even reply.

Soap announced he's leaving early. Ghost followed and caught up to him. The cold air did nothing to ease the burning hurt.

"You coming over to mine tonight, Johnny? I doubt they'll be back till after midnight."

Soap grit his teeth and kept walking. "Dunno. Maybe you should go ask your redhead slag."

Ghost glared, voice cold. "That's uncalled for, Johnny. She was just being friendly."

"Friendly, huh? Too bad she's chatty. Apparently that's huge turn off for you."

Ghost grabbed his arm and stopped him. His eyes and tone incredulous. "That's what this hissy fit is about? You're jealous and touchy over that comment? I thought you'd be happy I didn't take her number."

"I would've been happy if you didn't entertain her flirting at all!"

Ghost's eyes turned hard. "And what gives you the right to dictate who I talk to?"

Soap stared for a moment. It hurt. It fucking hurts but he needed to know.

"What am I to you, Simon?"

Ghost was quiet.

"A fling? A partner? A lover? A fucking sex toy? What am I to you!?"

Months of insecurities were bubbling up. The alcohol that loosened his tongue didn't help either as he yelled.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Sargent. I'm still your commanding officer." Ghost said in a tone reserved for intimidating interrogations and reckless recruits.

"...that's it? You're my CO and I'm your Sargent? That's- that's all it is for you?" Soap hated how his voice trembled.

"I didn't make any promises, Soap." (Soap. Not Johnny.) "You have no right to make demands of what I may and may not do, and I won't be chained down!"

"I don't want to chain you down! I just wa-"

"Sounds like you do. Bloody hell, if you didn't want to fuck anymore - fine. There's no need for the tears and the drama, Sargent."

It was only then that Soap realized he was crying.

Ghost cursed and kept walking without him.

Soap feels like he's been punched in the chest, a gaping void left where his heart and lungs should be.

Apparently all the secret kisses Ghost stole, how he held his hand when no one was looking, the way he held him when they were alone were all just what? Drama? In his head?

Soap spends the night sobbing his heart out off base in an empty parking lot with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

By morning he told himself there's no use crying over spilled milk.

But it wasn't that simple. For either of them. It was the start of the end.

#soapghost #ghostsoap #cod mwii #cod mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #my writing #replaced au #call of duty #fanfiction

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psychwxrdd · 3 months

Text

cat and mouse

🎀 note: not me thinking about rafe dressed as michael myers for a future blurb...

you end things with rafe due to his obsessive and controlling behaviour.

dark! rafe, obsessive! rafe, stalker! rafe, dark rafe x reader, jj x reader, possessive/toxic relationship.

It all started when you showed up at Sarah's house, your very first week in Outer Banks. You moved to figure 8 with your family and she was the first person you talked to, asking you to hang out with her and her friends any of these days and get to know the place. When Rafe first saw you, he immediately approached you, told you he was Sarah's brother and that he would be more than happy to show you around.

You thought he was just being genuinely nice, and you liked him. But as the weeks go by, you realized he had other intentions, as you started seeing him everywhere... Gifts and flowers showing up at your house, whenever you were walking by yourself he would always be there to give you a ride. Or when you were at a store staring at a skirt you really liked and next day, your mother said "a friend brought you something". The same skirt you wanted so bad, with a small note besides it.

"I saw how you stared at this skirt. And i can't stop thinking about how gorgeous it you would look on you... Go on a date with me and use it :)"

You didn't even had to think, you knew it was Rafe. It was pretty obvious. But even as you felt something a bit off about him, he was a handsome, charming guy. It could be just a crush, nothing else, so why not? Life was boring lately.

And how bad you wish things stayed boring, now looking back.

You two started dating after about a month, mostly because he pressured you into it. You thought things were surely going too fast, but he insisted that he wanted to have you as his official girlfriend and that he didn't wanted anyone thinking they would have a chance with you. So you said yes.

Things only got worse since. Rafe clearly liked you more than you liked him, and everyone could notice that... But he did not mind at all. As long as you were his, however it was, he wouldn't care about anything else. He slowly took all the control over your life without you noticing.

Whenever you wanted to leave in the morning to work, he would ask you to stay with him for a bit more.

"You know i can't be late, babe" you said with a soft smile as he pouted.

"You don't need that lame job, sweetheart. Why you even work? You're a kook. And i take care of you" As he kisses your neck and you chuckle. "Please, i hate being without you, just a few more minutes..."

And you couldn't say no, not at all. He was sweet, but something about him was so intimidating and scary, you couldn't exactly put your finger on what was it. But you knew that saying no to Rafe wasn't a good idea.

Then a few weeks later, you were eventually fired.

Rafe didn't wanted you to go out with your friends anymore, not his sisters, even worse if it was one of the pogues.

"You think i don't know that Maybank guy has some desperated puppy crush on you?" He asked, tapping his hands on his head.

"Rafe, he is a friend! They are all my friends!" You were exhausted of this conversation, almost screaming at him.

"You see...I don't want you being friends with them anymore. So..." He smiled, but nothing about that smile was happy or calmed you in the slightest. It was a weird smile. "You won't hang out with them anymore, you're better than that. And you're my girl. Right? My girl won't disobey me, huh?"

Or when you guys were watching a movie, a drama maybe, and you would make a silly comment like "If we broke up one day i'm moving to Italy", completely innocent, and his mood would be ruined.

"That won't fucking happen. Ever."

"I was just kidding." You spoke softly. "Don't take it seriously babe"

"Yeah...You know better than that. I'm sorry. Can't even stand the mere thought of losing you."

Why did you knew better than that?

Or when he started complaining about how much the condoms were uncomfortable, and how he wanted to feel you entirely. You wasn't ready for that, as much as you were horny, you weren't ok with the idea of end up pregnant. That was your answer, no.

But Rafe was a master at gaslighting. He wouldn't stop trying to convince you untill you made your mind, and when you didn't, he simply started taking off while you were too fucked out to notice.

Everyone was worried, even Ward realized how sick was this love his son had towards you. It was like he needed you to breath, in the worst way possible.

You broke up with him after almost a year together, and he obviously didn't took it well. He cried, punched walls, screamed, broke things, acted like a total psycho and you left scared for your life, trully. For your luck, Sarah and Rose were around and they helped you, cause Rafe wouldn't let you even get out of his room for sure.

2 weeks passed since that day and needless to say, Rafe made your life a hell. Blowing your phone with infinite texts and calls, showing up at your house, calling you through your parents phone, absolutely acting like a fucking freak. You started hanging out with your friends again, and that helped you a lot to go through it, it was nice to have people to trust, especially with all that was happening.

You were at The Cut with JJ, it was night and you two stared at the sea while laughing about some stupid thing he said. You decided to check your phone to see the time, and realized there was a text from an unknown number.

the fuck you're doing at the cut?

who is with you rn?

i'm serious y/n

don't fuck with me

answer me or i'll look for you myself

You frozed while reading that. Why he couldn't just leave you alone? Why the fuck he still had your location on his phone?

You cursed yourself for ever giving it to him at first. If you only knew who you were dealing with.

please babe i need to see you

i'm going crazy

i'm doing coke again

i need you right fucking now or i'll blow my brains out

i'm serious

you think i'm not serious?

i'll fucking film then

rafe PLEASE stop

lets talk ok

but please stop

i'll pick you up

"JJ... You need to leave now, Rafe wants to talk to me and i don't even wanna think about what he would do if he saw you with me"

The blonde stared at you in disbelief.

"Are you fucking him again?"

"NO! But he wants to talk, and if thats what it takes for him to leave me alone, then i'll do it!" You said, almost yelling. "And i don't want you to be involved"

"You're my friend Y/n for fuck's sake, you think i'll let you be alone with that psychopath?"

"JJ-"

"No Y/n, you don't deserve this shit!"

Your eyes were full of tears at this point, and you felt your body weak. It was like you were sick with so much sadness and anxiety. JJ was quick to hug you tightly, and thats when you allowed yourself to cry.

"You got this, we got this, right?" He caressed you hair "I'm here sweet thing."

You heard the sound of a familiar truck, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your ex boyfriend stepped out from his side, clearly out of his mind.

"Rafe, let's talk!"

"YOU BITCH! I KNEW IT, I FUCKING KNEW IT!" He shouted, his face looking red and if stares could kill you would surely be dead by now.

"Chill out dude" JJ said way too calm, and that gave you more panic. He should never play with Rafe, he should never speak to him in that tone.

The last thing you remember from that night was Rafe punching JJ's face so bad he passed out on the floor. And you couldn't do nothing, as the much taller and stronger guy carried you on his shoulders and threw you on his truck. It was all too overwhelming, too fast, painfull, you were dissociating.

"Had to take back whats mine, love" He said in a stern tone, while focused on the road "I thought you knew better, huh? Now the fucker might be dead and it's your fault. But i don't care, i love you too much princess. I hated that dirty pogue...Always thinking he could have a piece of you" Rafe inhaled sharply, his jaw giving you a glimpse of how much rage he felt. "Hear this, i'll tell you just once: The only way you ever will get rid of me is when you die, honey. And if you ever consider trying to leave me again, i'll kill you and i'll kill myself right after. You got that?"

#dark rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #obsessive love #yandere #possessive #stalker

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Text

The witty and uncanny

Doctor!yandere OC x reader x Mafia!yandere OC

Summary: After escaping Silas, you wake up at the hospital with a doctor who hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. And now, you have two to escape from ... at the same time.

Warnings: yandere, needles, gun + gunshot, blood, fighting, getting drugged, unhealthy relationships, jealousy, scalpels, a lot of drama

word count: 3.2k

Part 2

A bright light stings in your eyes as you pry them open. You whimper slightly at all the different pains in your body. You're lying in a bed, but it's not very comfortable.

"Oh, you're awake", an unfamiliar voice says. "I started to get worried."

A blurry shadow appears in front of your eyes. You blink a few times until you see the outline of a blonde man.

"How are you?" he asks softly.

You open your mouth to answer, but it's drier than a desert. The man puts a plastic cup to your lips and you sip a few mouthfuls of water.

"There we go, good job", he smiles. "Now, how are you?"

"Where am I?" you whisper.

"At the hospital. Do you remember anything?"

"I …"

You stay silent as you look at the doctor. Don't you recognize him?

"Have we met before?" you ask quietly.

"The two of us?" he repeats. "Yes, we have. I cared for you a year ago when you came to check up on your sore throat. I'm doctor Kry."

"Oh, right … I remember."

A few seconds of silence occur as you try to remember last year. Everything feels so blurry after Silas took you.

"Now I'll ask again: how are you?" the man asks.

"I'm hurting", you admit.

"Nothing is broken, I can assure you of that. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Silas, he- …" Shit. You shouldn't have said anything.

Dr Kry grows increasingly stiffer hearing the other man's name.

"Silas? Who's that? Your boyfriend?"

"No."

At least you don't think so. You never agreed to become Silas’s partner … or his prisoner for that matter.

"That's relieving to hear", Dr Kry smiles slightly and brushes the hair out of your face. "Can you tell me what happened? I won't tell anyone. I have to stay silent by law."

You gulp. You had escaped Silas during a mission of his. He'd brought you with him for who knows what reason and you managed to run while he wasn't looking. When he noticed that you were gone, you had to throw yourself down a cliff to get out of his reach. Landing in the water, you had no other choice but to swim to shore and then run for your life. You had been running for hours until exhaustion took over you. You fainted in a park. Now you're here.

You give the doctor a brief explanation, leaving out most of the information about Silas and his job.

"Why were you running from him?" Dr Kry asks suspiciously. "Did he hurt you?"

You nod. When you close your eyes you can see the basement's stone walls in front of you.

"Don't worry, Y/N, you won't get hurt ever again", Dr Kry promises. "You're safe with me now, okay?"

You shake your head quickly. You'll never be free from Silas! He's insane! He'll burn down the hospital once he finds you.

"Calm down, dear", Dr Kry smiles. "You're safe, I promise. This hospital has fantastic security. You wouldn't be able to break out from here even if you tried to."

You nod carefully, deciding to try to calm down. After all, you haven’t gotten the slightest bit of relaxation after Silas stole you away from your life. Resting now might be crucial in case Silas decides to find you again. Otherwise you might be too vulnerable for Silas's harsh manipulation. You won’t survive the basement if you’re not rested up.

Dr Kry sits with you as you sleep, watching over you. He goes through some papers, reading through your journals.

“Oh, my dear Y/N”, he whispers for himself, flipping pages, knowing full well you cannot hear him. “Finally you’re back with me.”

A while later, there’s a knock at the door. Dr Kry frowns and walks over to open. WHat he’s met with takes him by surprise. A black haired man with a long coat and a gun in his hand.

“Where are they?” he hisses.

Dr Kry looks at the gun with a glare and clenches his jaw.

“You must be Silas”, he says warningly, still sounding calm.

“Back away”, Silas says darkly, pointing with the gun. “Go to your desk.”

Dr Kry backs away slowly, refusing to look away from Silas. Silas notices your sleeping form in the bed, breathing out in relief.

“Y/N!” he says. “Little thing, wake up.”

“Don’t”, Dr Kry says quickly. “They just fell asleep. If you wake them up I’ll call for security and you’ll leave this hospital in pieces.”

Silas scoffs as one side of his mouth pulls up. “I’m the one with the gun here. I make the rules, okay, doc?”

“This is my territory that you’ve trespassed on. Here, I’m in charge.”

Silas glances at your sleeping form, at the bruises on your skin and the IV-drop next to your bed.

“What have you done to them?” he growls.

“What have I done?” Dr Kry repeats in shock. “They were worse when I took them in! What you see there, you have caused when they were running from you.”

Silas pushes Dr Kry up against the wall, knocking some of the air out of his lungs. The black haired man is a tad bit taller than him, but he isn’t feeling threatened. He’s furious. This man has caused you harm. He needs to be taken care of before you wake up. Dr Kry can’t let you see any of his bad sides. Silas puts the gun against Dr Kry’s temple.

“If you’re so stupid to kill me here, you better find another doctor to care for your ‘little thing’”, Dr Kry says, mocking Silas’s nickname for you.

Silas gives the doctor a nasty look and lets him go harshly. He’s about to walk over to you, but Dr Kry storms after, grabbing his arm.

“Don’t even think about moving them”, he warns Silas. “They’re hurt thanks to you. They need to heal up!”

“I will get them everything they need”, Silas mutters.

“Yeah, sure. Since when do you know how to use medical equipment? Smallest misstep and you’ll harm them. I’m not going to let you do anything that could worsen their condition.”

Silas gulps and looks around, hate still clear in his eyes, but now also a bit of worry.

“Fine”, he mutters. “I guess I’ll let them stay here until they’re better.”

Dr Kry smiles inside. Oh, you’ll never get better.

By now, you open your eyes after all the sound the two men have caused. Your gasp alerts the two of them, turning both their heads towards you. Your eyes are stuck on Silas with fear glowing in them.

“N-No-”, you almost sob.

“Don’t cry, little thing”, Silas says and pushes Dr Kry out of the way. “Come here-”

“No! Don’t touch me!”

Your scream hurts Dr Kry’s ears. He grabs Silas’s shoulders and forces him away from you, standing in between him and you as a shield. Silas is about to throw himself at the doctor when he sees how you hide behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he spits. “Y/N is mine! If I want to touch my baby, I have all the damn right to do so!”

“You forget that this is my territory”, Dr Kry warns him calmly , taking your hand. “I decide who touches my patients or not and right now, I’m the only one allowed to.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit. Let go of their fucking hand right now.”

"Or what? You're going to shoot me? We've been through this already. If you shoot me you don't have anyone else to care for them. Is that what you want?"

"I'll find someone else."

"Then are you really going to put Y/N through this? If you shoot me, my blood will splatter on them. Try manipulating them to like you after that."

"You piece of shit-"

Silas is about to attack him, but Dr Kry picks up a scalpel and holds it in front of him.

"If you have to be here, be of use and sit down", the doctor sighs and rolls his eyes. "And be quiet. You're scaring Y/N."

You've curled up on the bed to protect your fragile body from Silas’s wrath. The man with the gun sighs heavily.

"This is fucking ridiculous", he mutters and sinks down in the chair in the corner of the room. "Why am I listening to you?"

Dr Kry smiles slightly and holds a cup of water to your lips. You choke on it thanks to the stress of having Silas in the room. You're waiting for him to have had enough and get rid of your doctor. He's the only form of protection you have.

"Breathe", Dr Kry whispers. "Don't look at him."

"What are you saying to them?" Silas asks quickly, suspiciously.

"Nothing. Instead of trying to eavesdrop, go to the vending machine on the floor below and get your 'little thing' something to eat."

"Why should I? You're the doctor!"

"Exactly. I'm the doctor. I have to stay with the patient at all costs."

"You fucking asshole."

"Y/N hasn't been eaten once since they came here."

Silas growls and stands up. He gives you one warning gaze before rushing out. Doctor Kry waits a few seconds before hurrying over to the other side of the bed, carefully removing the needle out of your arm. He places his arms under your body, carefully lifting you up.

"W-What are you doing?" you gasp.

"Getting you away from here. I'm going to take care of that man, but in that case, I can't have you close."

Dr Kry carries you out of the room, glancing at the ends of the corridor before running to the elevator.

"You don't understand!" you almost sib. "Silas will kill if you do this! He's insane, h-he'll-"

"So am I."

"What?"

A shiver runs down your spine.

"I don't like to admit it, but I do have some scary thoughts too sometimes", Dr Kry says disappointingly. "Don't worry, I will take care of that man. Afterwards, you and I can go back to being together. I won't let anything hurt you."

You shake your head slowly, realization hitting you. No, this can't be it …

"You sound like him …", you whisper quietly. "You sound like Silas …"

"No, I don't."

"L-Let me down."

"I can't. You're not well enough to walk by yourself. I have to protect you."

Dr Kry leaves the elevator and steps out into a dimly lit cemented corridor. You must be far below ground.

"He won't find you here", Dr Kry says.

His voice makes you shiver.

"Let me go", you whine and start to fight against his strong embrace. "Let me go! I'm going to scream."

"Scream all you want, Y/N, but I'd be surprised if anyone could hear you down here."

He opens a door into a white experiment cell. You shake your head desperately. This reminds you too much of the basement. The only thing in the room is a wall made of a mirror, a table and a chair. Dr Kry lets you down in the chair and walks towards the door. You hurry up and try to run past him, but he captures your arm and pulls you back.

"Don't tire yourself out, sweetheart", he says. "You won't get well that way."

"I threw myself off a fucking cliff! A little running won't do anything to me!"

Dr Kry manages to pry your arm off him and push you into the room before going out and locking the door. You pound the door with your fists, screaming. Dr Kry gulps and makes his way back to the elevator. You're safe here, he reassures himself.

Silas makes his way back to your room with a burning rage in his heart and a protein bar in his hand. That doctor has a storm coming for him. Silas is going to hang him upside down until the blood suffocates his brain. And he'll watch it all with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. And you? One thing's for sure: you're never coming with him for a mission ever again. He can't believe that you did all of this to get rid of him.

"I seriously need to get a couple therapist", he mutters to himself and reaches for the door handle into the room.

Before he touches it, he stops. Something’s wrong. He swings it open and finds it empty. You’re not in the bed and the doctor is nowhere to be seen. Silas takes out his gun from his coat again.

“I’m going to fucking kill you”, he promises.

“How funny, because I was thinking the same thing”, a voice behind him says, catching him by surprise.

Silas turns around to see Dr Kry putting on white gloves. Silas turns his gun towards him. Dr Kry scoffs out a low chuckle.

“But the difference between our deaths is that yours will be quiet and quick”, he says, taking up a needle from his pocket and testing the spurt. “No one will know if you’ve left the hospital or not.” He nods at the weapon in his hand. “One shot with the gun and everyone will know that something has happened to me. You won’t get away with it.”

“You’re wrong, I’ve gotten away with a lot of things. This will be nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You sure do a lot of talking for someone with a gun in their hands.”

“Well, I can’t fucking kill you before you tell me where the fuck Y/N is. Now spit it out. I’m sick of this!”

“Why should I tell you? You’re clearly only causing them harm.”

Silas growls and throws himself at Dr Kry, not being able to control himself anymore. The doctor gets knocked to the floor. Just as Silas is about to start punching him, the doctor stabs him in the arm with the needle. Silas is quick to get off him and rip it out.

"W-What the fuck was that?" he asks quickly.

"Something to make you sleep", Dr Kry smirks from the floor, still lying on his back but now propped up by his elbows.

Shit. Silas looks around for something. He grabs a stapler on top of the desk and slams it into Dr Kry’s head, knocking him unconscious. He starts rummaging through his pockets until he finds a key. 'Laboratory 2', it says on a small label.

"Where the fuck is that?" he pants. "Hey doc- … nevermind."

He hurries out into the corridor. He's not sure if the exhaustion he feels is from the needle or if it is from his imagination. All he knows is that he has to find you before he falls unconscious on the floor.

Silas finds a floorplan over the hospital. His finger follows the illustration lazily. Damn it, stay conscious. Silas finds the laboratory three floors underground. He drags himself over to the elevators and presses the right button. His body is growing more and more tired, eyes wanting to shut. The image of Dr Kry appears in his brain and he grimaced. He has to continue. The doctor seems to want you for himself too. Over Silas's dead body.

Silas steps out of the elevator and looks around in this new, dimly lit corridor. The walls are made out of concrete. It reminds him of the basement. His vision starts to fail him. He's seeing double. But nonetheless, he finds the right door. He struggles to place the key in the hole now that he can barely see. The click from the lock gives him hope. Inside, he finds you curled up in a corner on the other side of the room, glaring at him.

"Don't be scared, Y/N", he says, voice sounding distant. "I'm not going to hurt you. I've- … I've learned from my mistakes … I'm going … going to …"

"What's wrong with you, Silas?" you ask hesitantly.

"That fucking doctor … he … he stab- … stabbed me with a … uh, with a needle. But that … doesn't … doesn't matter. I'm taking you with me any- … anyway. I'll kill him."

He reaches out for you, but you scurry away from him. His sloppy movements give you time to run past him out into the corridor. The elevator is free! Behind you, you can hear his body hitting the floor. Just as you're about to walk into the elevator, you remember the gun Silas has on him. You could use that.

You give the elevators one last glance before running back to the testing room. You rummage through his pockets, finding the weapon in his coat.

The elevator is occupied now. You swear mentally. You need to get out of here before Dr Kry comes. The elevator stops on your level … and opens. You're met by Dr Kry’s cold eyes. Blood is running down his face from his forehead. His eyes light up as he sees you.

"Y/N!" he gasps in relief. "Thank God! Where's Silas!"

"Unconscious", you mumble, pointing at the open door, "in there."

"Good, good. Let him be. Wait … why do you have his gun?"

"Why do you think so?! To protect myself, of course. It doesn't seem like anyone else is!"

"No, no, you are safe — with me!"

"No. Something’s wrong with you too. I don't like it."

You hold up the gun towards him.

"Y/N, don't be ridiculous, I'm normal!" He says, glancing towards the weapon. "Come now, let's go to bed. You need to heal up. I'll take care of Silas. I saved you, didn't I?"

"I'm not sure. Did you really save me if you're the same?" You hover your finger over the trigger. "Get out of my way."

"Are you really going to shoot me here?"

"You said that no one would hear anything down here. So why shouldn't I?"

Dr Kry clenches his jaw. He looks at something behind you and his eyes widen.

"H-How are you conscious?!"

In horror, you turn before Silas can touch you. To your surprise, it’s empty. You don’t have time to realize what has happened before Dr Kry grabs you from behind and steals the gun out of your hand.

“Now, enough of this”, he says. “Come now, Y/N. We’re wasting time where you could be resting. I really don’t want to use the gun against you, but if you don’t realize what’s best for you, then I have to take drastic measures. Come now, little on, let’s go.”

He leads you into the elevator. The doors close. You glance at the gun with a plan in mind. You sink down the wall with your hand over your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Dr Kry asks quickly. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“N-No”, you lie while forcing yourself to pant. “I can’t breathe!”

Dr Kry sinks down on his knees in front of you, letting go of the gun and starts to feel around your neck gently. You grab the gun and without a second thought, shoot him in the foot. The doctor screams out in pain and clutches the hurt area.

“Y/N!” he shouts. “What are you doing?!”

“Getting the fuck out of here”, you sigh in stress.

As soon as the doors open, you run without ever looking back. You know that you have a race against the clock. Silas will wake up sometime and Dr Kry won’t let this slide. Whether you like it or not … they’ll be back for you. Their little Y/N.

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