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taestefully-in-luv · 4 months

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Our Time | JJK (Seven)

Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

Word Count: 12.4k

Warnings: seriously depressing (for now) swearing, mentions of alcoholism, allusions to cheating

a/n: Hiiiiiii, long time no see!! Sorry for the delay and thank you for waiting. This story is at a depressing point (lol) so forgive me! I hope you guys can enjoy this chapter too 🥺 Well, I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

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An eternity has passed since you’ve last seen Jungkook…a total of six weeks. Each day has gotten equally harder as it has gotten easier. You think it’s just your body slowly getting used to his absence but your mind is yearning. Yearning and hurting.

But there is something that’s also painful like missing your ex-husband—your best friend—and it’s the videos of your life. A life you know nothing of.

If you thought pictures were hard, videos are much harder.

But you asked for this. You asked your parents and your friends to send you old pictures and videos of times you don’t remember living.

You’re seeing pictures of you and your friends in restaurants you don’t know. Bars you don’t know. Concerts for artists you don’t know. Pictures of you in your bedroom, but it’s a bedroom you don’t know.

You have haircuts and styles you don’t know.

In the videos, you hear yourself laughing at inside jokes you don’t know. You’re using vocab and slang you don’t know. You see yourself giggling and joking around with people you. don’t. know. And you feel more like an outsider than ever. Not just to this world but to the girl you see on screen, you are an outsider to herworld.

Perhaps you’ve gotten too use to separating your different selves. And perhaps that makes it harder to unite with them.

Past you is current you but current you thinks of current you as future you.

It’s all a headache to think about.

You know they’re all you but because you’ve kept them separate, it’s somehow becoming the shackles that stops all the you’s from uniting.

And that’s what needs to happen for all of your memories to return. You have to unite 24 year old you and 33 year old you. It’s only your sanity on the line.

Now that you’ve discovered a couple of things, the only way to go from here is to intentionally spark your memories—in any way. You have to. Because you know 33 year old you has started something...

You quickly tear your eyes from the video on screen to take a quick peak towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You’ve visited the attic a few times because of all of the memories that are stored in there.

But those boxes are filled with more than just memories.

Your eyes go back to your phone in hand as your thumb hesitantly hovers over the screen. You know you should move on to another video but it almost feels like you don’t have it in you. You don’t have it in you to stop listening to the sound of your child’s laughter when you can’t recognize it.

You don’t have it in you to stop the possibility of triggering your brain to suddenly remember him.

You finally force your thumb to the screen and you quickly pause it. You take in a sharp breath before exiting the video to scroll through the five videos your mom sent you. You see Haru in all five. And you can see Jungkook in three of them. You chose one where you couldn’t see Jungkook.

But this video of Haru’s giggles feels just as heartbreaking but more than anything, it feels frustrating. Because you don’t know him.

And that feels like an unbearable heartache on its own.

Suddenly, your eyes bounce from the video thumbnails to the text your mom just sent you.

Mom 7:28am

Good morning! We’re our way to the station and should arrive in Seoul around 2pm. You’re still picking us up, right?

You slowly close your already drooping eyes, the moment way too brief before you open them again, glancing towards the living room windows where the obvious sunlight comes through. Another night you didn’t sleep. Your eyes battling your brain. You might get a few hours if you try to sleep now, at the least.

“I just don’t understand how you can drink those all day,” Your mother’s eyes go from the knife in her hand to the iced coffee in yours. “I know it’s got to be giving you heartburn.” She laughs a little while shaking her head, eyes going back down to the cutting board where she chops onions.

You blink at your mom before dropping your eyes to the coffee in your hand, “Wait, is this why?”

She chuckles again, “Must be from your dads side of the family.” She shrugs now, letting the onions slide off the board and into a pan.

You roll your eyes at your moms playful comment before sliding the coffee away from you as you sit at your kitchen island, “Anyway, dad’s kind of taking a while, no?” You glance around the kitchen as if he would suddenly appear here.

Your mom smiles to herself while her hands remain busy with cooking dinner, “Yeah, he’s waiting for me to text him saying he can come back from the store.”

You can’t help but snort since you know exactly what she means.

Back when you were a teenager and going through life’s woes that made the whole world feel like it was ending, you would have your meltdowns. Period cramps that made you moody, a friend talking behind your back, the boy you liked was seen kissing someone else. All the things your dad left your mom to handle. He would suddenly want to go to the store and she would somehow signal him when it was safe to return—after the two of you got to talk out whatever was bothering you.

You realize she’s done it now.

“You never used to take this long to tell me what was going on though.” Your mom says quietly, eyes trained on the stove. “Especially not about Jungkook.” She sighs as she reaches for the wooden spoon before stirring the ingredients.

You feel something sharp inside your chest, just at the mention of his name, like there’s a sharp knife.

You turn your face to the side, something uncomfortable and electric tightens your jaw. As if it’s a burning signal that even the mere mention of Jungkook, makes you want to cry. But you won’t. “Well, mom.” You take a deep breath before looking towards her again with a sarcastic smile. “Our marriage wasn’t exactly as perfect as you thought.”

You hope this is enough for her to realize that Haru’s disappearance wasn’t the wedge that created such distance between you and your now, ex-husband.

You stare at the back of your mom’s head as she stands at the stove, still cooking. You wonder if she’s in utter shock at the revelation that perhaps Jungkook isn’t perfect. And your marriage definitely wasn’t. You wait and wait. But you see how she starts adding in a few other things.

“I said—”

“—What marriage is perfect?” Your mom finally turns around, cutting you off with a raised brow. “I never thought that. I’ll never think that. About anyone.” She scoffs before turning towards the stove again. “I told you that you didn’t usually take this long to talk about Jungkook with me.”

You don’t say anything.

Your mom turns her head towards you for a moment, you see the corner of her lip barely start to lift, like a knowing smile wants to form but her frown decides not to budge, “You were married to him for years…you don’t think you’ve come to complain to me?”

You understand her almost smirk now. She faces forward towards the stove again.

“Maybe around six months before Haru’s…incident. You came to Busan and I could tell something was up and you needed to talk.” Your mom rests a hand on her hip, while the other reaches for the stove knob as she turns it down. “But just like now…” She turns her head to eye you again, her worries pulling her lips into a deeper frown. “You took a while to tell me.”

You don’t really react. Not as your brain processes this information.

Your mom continues, “So I know your marriage wasn’t perfect. Jungkook’s not perfect. You’re not perfect.” She exhales through her nose in a half laugh. “I’m not perfect. Your father’s not either. But what’s between us…it has to be protected.”

“Unless that person betrays you.” You say in a low voice, eyes going to your fingers as you pick at your cuticles. “And you lose your trust in them.”

You hear your mom at the stove again as she turns it off and puts the lid on the pan. After a moment you see your mother in your peripherals as she comes to the other side of the counter and sits next to you.

“You mentioned something similar back then.” She says quietly, her face looking ahead. “But then I thought…well, that you thought it wasn’t what you thought.”

You quickly turn your head in your moms direction, eyes on hers. What all did you say to her? “Well, it was.” You say firmly.

Your mom’s eyebrows pull together slowly, something similar to confliction rising in her eyes. “And how exactly did Jungkook betray you?” She asks after a moment.

And it feels pathetic, the feeling of all the muscles in your face betraying your collected appearance. So pathetic that the answer to this question makes your expression twist and break off the cracking mask that is now crumbling and falling from your face.

It takes less than an instant for your heartbreak to be written all over.

Your mom puts a hand to your back, letting you cry it out.

Just like you did when you were a moody teenager and the only one who understood your meltdowns was your mom. She lets you know that once again, that no matter how small or how big—you had every right to feel the way you wanted to.

You cry, a soft pat repeating on your back as you mumble how sad you are and how embarrassing this is.

This short cry feels more like relief in the right company rather than something that is rocking your world in the worst way.

Your mom chuckles a little, pulling away from you. “Embarrassing?”

“Yeah.” You nod with a shameless smile and damp cheeks. “I know you know the me that’s been married to him for years but in my eyes we’ve been on one date and he was our neighbor. So I feel like you should be teasing me about us but you’re here with more knowledge about my marriage than me.” You laugh as you cry more, “So it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Hm,” Your mom chuckles again, “I guess I can understand that.”

You nod while your fingers wipe beneath your eyes repeatedly, they’re only teary now.

Your mom brings her hand away from you, her fingers intertwining on top of the counter. You watch as she stares down at her hands in thought before she finally sighs and turns your way with a small smile. “Talk to me, y/n. You’re convinced Jungkook betrayed you in some way—ways I can only assume—but tell me, do you really think he’s capable of what you’re thinking?”

You study your mother’s expression for a long moment, brows beginning to furrow when you realize she doesn’t buy it. Tearing your eyes away from her, your lips twist in annoyance, “Are you saying I shouldn’t believe in my own memories?”

You hear your mom sigh again, “You remembered something unpleasant, y/n. I’m not saying I don’t believe you…but even back then,” She pauses, hoping you will look at her but you don’t. She finally continues, “Things just didn’t add up…”

You’re quick to find her eye again, “What all did I tell you?”

At this, your mother scoffs lightly, her small smile still on her lips. “Nothing that really made sense. Seemed like you just…couldn’t tell me things. But I’m not dumb, you know? You drop plenty of hints when you get talking.”

“Oh.” You blink at her, wishing you could even remember whatever hints she’s referring to.

“But the issue is that you stopped talking. You got quiet.” Your mother looks back at her hands again, her gaze hardening. “Then when Haru’s incident happened…you shut us all out. Everyone…” She whispers, lines between her brows forming, a hint of disappointment in her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Even Jungkook.”

You can’t help but feel that same knife start slicing open the inside of your chest at the mention of his name again. “Probably because it’s his fau—”

“—He lost Haru too, y/n.” Your mom cuts you off, her eyes that are filled with something close to anger land on you. “You both did and what’s worse is that you both lost one another in the process.”

“I don’t remember the process but I’m sure I had a hard time even looking him in the eye.” You spit out. “You don’t know what happ—”

“—Do you?” She throws back at you. “Because you have yet to give me a story that makes even a little sense.”

Your heart starts screaming like someone just squeezed it way too hard. You force yourself to look away because tears that no one invited start to form. You feel done with this conversation but before you can announce its over, your mom sighs again and her palm rests against your back and you don’t have it in you to shove her off.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters softly, almost sounding regretful. “I am. You have no idea…” You feel her hand slowly retreat from your back, “How sometimes I would just pray you wouldn’t get your memories back. So you wouldn’t…”

Your mother’s voice grows much softer, almost too quiet to hear.

“Seeing you heartbroken all over again hurts us, y/n. I thought it would be easier…for you. But I guess it’s just easier for us.” She admits, a sharpness in her tone that indicates her regret. “There’s no way you would live happier if parts of you felt missing.”

You feel her words stick to your skin uncomfortably, like sweat from the hot sun rather than a run you worked for. It’s unpleasant but also unwelcomed.

Unwelcomed because you don’t want to accept a life where that could be the case—forced to live a life even with parts of you missing.

An uncomfortable reality and possibility.

“More than…” You begin, hands lifting to gesture towards nothing. “This is more than just Jungkook.”

Your mom chuckles to herself. “Of course I know that.”

“I’m starting to wonder what would feel worse,” You glance towards your empty hands before your fingers clutch nothing softly. “Remembering my child. Or not remembering my child.” Then your lips curl into a half smile that feels so empty as you silently cringe toward yourself, “It doesn’t even feel right saying ‘my’…” you immediately halt, teeth suddenly piercing into your bottom lip. You don’t even feel right calling Haru ‘your’ child. Because you don’t feel like his mother.

You try to keep the half smile plastered on your face but the sharp shock of tears that fill your eyes betray your wants. You quickly blink them away.

“I want to hate Jungkook so bad for so many reasons,” You admit before clearing your throat, “But I mostly hate him because at least he would recognize our sons laugh while I don’t. I hate him because I blame him but at least he knows the kid that I hate him for.”

Also an uncomfortable reality.

“Well,” Your mothers tone lets you know she’s about to change the subject. “You had a doctor’s appointment recently, right? How did it go?”

You shake your head, “He said the progress can be really slow…and that it’s normal for the brain to block out certain traumatic events. So much…” You pause.

“So much what?”

You sigh, “So much doesn’t make sense. It has me feeling so restless.”

“I’m sorry.” Your mom releases a shaky breathy before you hear her voice crack. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know what’s the worst part?” You decide to keep the venting session going. “I just feel ashamed. I’m a parent but I don’t even know about it. I feel so lost. I don’t think if I was given a child I could—”

“This doesn’t make you less of a mother, y/n.” Your mom snaps her eyes in your direction, a fierceness in them. “You are still a parent. A damn good one at that.”

You study your mother’s expression with a fondness, because you see her sincerity. This makes your eyes sting again. “Thanks, mom.”

After a nice weekend with your parent’s, you decide you’ve been resting enough. You want to start working again, having too much time on your hands seems like a problem nowadays. You find yourself back at that new café.

“I’ll take a honey lavender latte.” You tell the girl at the counter, her eyes immediately widening before she nods her head in approval.

“Great choice. A personal fav.” She grins before continuing, “And I make it the best.”

A new voice joins in from behind, startling you. “Make that two.” A man says. You quickly turn around, eyes rising towards the same man you spilled coffee on. “Oh, it’s you.”

He brings a hand to his heart, “I’m a you? That means you remember me!” He smiles at you, shaking his dark hair from his eyes.

You bite your lip, guilt sinking in from the last time. “Well, I thought you were gonna press charges for burning you last time. So, I guess I would remember.”

He looks taken aback, his eyes going round. “Press charges?” Then he laughs, “No, no. I wouldn’t do that, who wants to deal with cops, anyway?”

“Just the two lattes?” The girl at the counter speaks up in a sing song voice and you immediately spin in your spot to apologize to her but the man beats you to it while he pulls out his wallet.

“Should we get a cookie too?” He asks you, his head tilting a little and you start shaking your head. “You sure?” He smiles.

You’re the one taken aback. This guy is too kind. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone.

“Seokjin, you are going to buy us out again.” The girl sighs as she smiles before glancing at you. “He ordered us all out just yesterday.”

“It was for the elderly! You know they get a little cranky if they don’t get something a little sweet to eat! Hasn’t it brought more customers? You could say thank you.” He gets playfully defensive, pout on his lips and the girl gives a shrug while nodding. “Well, it does make my boss happy. And if he’s happy,” She leans over the counter and whispers. “It’s a better day for everyone.” Then she giggles.

“See!” Seokjin crosses his arms like he’s still offended. “I’m just trying to help you all have a better day!”

You guess he is this nice to everyone.

And before you know it, he’s taking out his card and paying for the drinks. You realize it but it’s too late.

“You didn’t have to pay for that…” You mumble, hand paused on your own wallet. “But thank you.”

“Hopefully you’ll have an even better day too.” He smiles at you and it feels warm.

You take a moment to get a good look at him and you realize just how handsome he is. You remember his chest and broad shoulders from last time but now you see just how full and plump his lips are but you also like his brown eyes.

He smiles at you again.

You’re staring.

“See you around, I guess.” Seokjin puts his wallet back into his back pocket before walking off towards a table near a window.

You know his name but he doesn’t know yours and that feels a little bit like a shame.

But there’s no time for harmless nice guys giving you warm smiles. You’re here to work. Or actually here to retrain yourself on how to do your work.

Your job agreed to help you relearn everything so today, you’re going to sit at a table and get trained. And the girl you knew from college that works at your job will be in contact with you if you have any questions. Mijoo. Apparently you two were a bit acquainted before you started working from home.

When you find a table near the bookshelves, you get to work. There’s updates on old programs you were familiar with but there’s new ones too. Plus, the market is a bit different. It’s a lot to learn but you think you’ll get the hang of it quickly. Just like you did back in the day when you were just starting out.

Two hours or more has passed and you’re buried in your work. But you see a man in your peripherals and a cookie wrapped in parchment paper suddenly on the table right next to your laptop.

You look up and Seokjin gives you that same warm smile before it turns sheepish. “I ended up ordering two for myself a little while ago but I’m too full. You can have it. Well…well, only if you want it, of course.”

You blink up at him before you look at the cookie.

“It’s okay, if you don’t!”

Your eyes go to him again and you shake your head before you give him your own smile. “No, no!” You tell him quickly, “I-I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“Oh.” His lips form the perfect ‘o’ and he gives you a nod. “Nice. See ya.” And he’s smiling again before walking out of the café.

His entire aura is warm and you realize you appreciate people like him even more now. With how cold life has been.

After a long day of sitting at the café, you’re now sitting on the floor of your dusty attic. It’s gotten easy to figure out which boxes were stored here by your own hands and which boxes are the ones that Jungkook packed up to avoid you seeing your life. It’s mostly obvious because Jungkook’s packing is much more organized than yours.

You wonder if this box of framed photos in front of you is so neat because he looked at each one slowly, taking his time as he looked at the memories he knew you wouldn’t remember.

You wonder if he took his time because he misses Haru.

And because he missed you.

You manage to conceal a bitter scoff as you lift your foot and push it flat against the box, forcing it back a few inches. Your concern isn’t Jungkook right now. Stop thinking about him. Stop looking at your photos with him. Stop looking at the life you lived with him.

Right now those are your priority.

A strained sigh leaves your mouth as you eye the boxes you’ve dragged to the other side of the attic. You’ve been trying to organize everything in here so you know what’s what. Eyes slide to the left where all your household memories are. Then they slowly drag across the attic, passing by an old, dusty desk to the right side where your personal mystery boxes are.

It’s taken a few days to really separate everything. Because this attic has more than just some boxes of memories and boxes of mysteries. It also has a few too many creepy crawlers hanging in the corners. And things you’re sure 33 year old you wanted to sell and get rid of.

Buzz.

Your eyes suddenly shoot down to your phone when it lights up and vibrates the attic floor, already seeing that it’s another message from Misuk in the group chat with her and Subin.

Last you checked they were gushing over a new song from an artist they like who you barely even know so you don’t rush to really look. Your eyes stay on the screen until the light dims and it goes black.

You’d be lying if you said you wish you didn’t have help. Someone to guide you to some answers.

Another strained sigh before a half assed chuckle barely rumbles in your chest.

Well, ‘someone’ could guide you to some answers. And that someone is 33 year old you but unfortunately you don’t understand majority of what you’ve found. As if only parts of the puzzle are in these boxes, just edges and corner pieces and you’re missing all the pieces that fill everything in.

Your eyes still linger on the black screen as they begin to lose focus as your mind whirls into your endless list of questions again. The boxes of mysteries are only three boxes. One of them having nothing to do with your son, you think. But the other two have caused some concern.

Something tells you that 33 year old you is really not convinced that your son is dead.

It’s clear you were investigating on your own. But your notes barely make sense. And it is more than fucking frustrating.

You’re about to close your eyes and groan but your phone suddenly lights up again as you feel a slight vibration next to your foot. It’s another text but it doesn’t look like its apart of the group chat.

You squint at the screen but it’s too far to really read anything so you finally give in and reach for the device and bring it closer to your face. And then you feel the sudden thump in your lower belly where your heart just landed.

Jungkook 9:19pm

How are you doing?

A razor sharp sting tightens every muscle in your body, the sudden tension making your breaths stop.

More than a month and a half since you’ve last seen and spoken to him and he’s finally said something to you.

Finally because as much as you hate him, his existence makes you breathe. And you have to breathe to live.

Buzz.

Your hand vibrates along with your phone and you suddenly clench your fingers around it.

Jungkook 9:19pm

I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.

Your heart suddenly leaps up into your throat, choking you a bit as you try to breathe. Is that a confession? It already bothers you that he barely tried to explain himself and now he’s been silent all this time. And now he’s apologizing? He’s guilty, isn’t—

Buzz.

Jungkook 9:20pm

I just wish you would talk to me y/n…

That concealed scoff from earlier has finally broken free, pushing past your lips in something like disgust. Talk to him? Talk to him? You feel an uncomfortable anger start poking your skin from the inside and you squeeze your phone harder in you hand. The fucking audacity.

There’s a brief moment when you consider chucking your phone across the attic but fortunately you only slam it to the floor. Frustration still hot on your skin, you quickly reach for a worn out decorative pillow and hurl it in front of you with a lot of strength, knocking against the old desk as it wobbles for a moment.

You release a short puff of air, head lowering and eyes closing as you try to calm yourself. You’ll admit, it did feel kind of good to release some en—

Thump.

Your eyes snap open as you tilt your head up towards the desk where the sudden sound just came. Did something fall inside? But what? You had checked the desk before. The top drawer only had a few pens and some sticky notes while the bottom drawer was empty minus some loose sheets of printer paper. And the left side of the desk is just two empty book shelves. It is basically empty.

It was probably nothing.

You’re about to move on, mind already wanting to go back to Jungkook when the sudden thump just can’t make sense. Something with some weight definitely fell in or on the desk, right? But you’re sure there’s nothing from when you checked the other week.

Doesn’t hurt to look again, you decide. Maybe this is your intuition talking to you.

You finally lift yourself from the attic floor, giving one last look at the boxes that are filled with your life with Jungkook and Haru before heading towards the middle where the desk is. It’s got an impressive layer of dust that you haven’t found any real reason to clean since the desk isn’t something you’d visit often.

Giving in, you reach for the top drawer and open it, just like you had the other week, but just like last time, the drawer only has three pens, some used sticky notes with doodles and numbers lying around and one black marker.

You knew there was nothing. Shutting the drawer, you quickly open the bottom drawer. It’s a deeper space, like you could fit a small filing cabinet. But instead, there’s only a few loose sheets of blank printer paper.

Not convinced, you shove your hand inside the drawer, feeling around for anything strange and even trying to reach behind but you’re met with nothing. Okay. You step away from the desk for a moment, eyeing it suspiciously because you’re certain something with more weight than any of those things fell. And fell here.

There’s nothing else here besides this raggedy pillow. You glance down at it, the pathetic thing on the floor before you groan, kicking it away from you.

So what? You just imagine all kinds of things now? Is that the new normal?

Suddenly not minding the thick layer of dust, you lean forward in defeat, hands gripping the edge of the desk as you support some of your weight onto it but the desk wobbles forward on its probably broken, unsteady legs. And you know you don’t imagine it when something with some weight definitely shifts inside.

“Uh, what was that…?” You mumble to yourself, eyebrows coming together slowly as you take another look at the desk. Your eyes immediately fall to the left side where the two empty shelves are. It definitely came from this side.

You quickly squat down, eyes trained on the shelves, inspecting every single inch of the empty and terribly dusty space. “Don’t tell me…” You whisper, expression highly focused as you look at the back panel of the shelves. The shelving space is not nearly as deep as of the width of the desk.

You blink at it, breaths now falling from your lips faster as your fingers quickly go to touch the backing panel and when it wiggles freely with enough pressure, you know you’ve found something. Feeling impatient, you jostle the thin wood around until you can figure out how to remove it.

And when it starts poking through the side of the shelf, your heart starts racing while you quickly slide the panel through the wooden desk. You feel it. Maybe it’s instinct because somewhere in your brain you know this is familiar and means something. The panel drops to the floor once its slid out but before it even touches, your hands are already digging inside.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You repeat with shaky breaths. Fingers already grasping what’s here and you feel yourself growing more and more anxious. A shoe box. An open shoe box that’s close to overflowing. You pull it out while you sit down onto the floor, the box settling right in front of you.

“Okay,” You sigh, reaching for the first item on top. It’s a small note book, the kind you’d use to make a check list of sorts. You take a deep breath before flipping it open and a few loose contents fall out. And then you feel the breath of a ghost at the base of your neck.

You pick up a folded sheet of paper along with a bent photo of Nabi. You feel the cold breath travel down your spine as you unfold the paper and read what’s written in someone else’s handwriting.

Yun Nabi

118, Seolleungro-150, Yongsan-gu, Seoul

010-6203-3087

010 3476 9876àweekends

010 9874 3456 new ##

You stare down at the worn paper, confusion clouding your mind. You want to rip her photo to shreds.

You quickly glance to the bent photo in your other hand and before you tell your hand what to do, it’s already crumbling it. Your dark gaze set on the now wrinkled woman who managed to gain Jungkook’s attention.

Maybe it’s not her fault if she’s great.

Maybe it’s your fault.

Your eyes stay trained on the crumbled photo but they’ve lost focus once again. Soon the balled up picture and the folded note fall to your lap as Numbness hugs you over your shoulders and as Insecurity sits next to you and whispers into your ear.

Why did Jungkook cheat on you?

You manage to blink but your throat feels dry.

Why did he do that to you? Why would anyone…?

You want to laugh at yourself. Because you know if this happened to anyone else you would know it wasn’t their fault. The person who cheated…it’s about them and no one else. And you want to tell yourself this, remind yourself, confirm that this isn’t your fault.

But why do you sit here, letting Numbness hug you tighter? And why do you sit here and wonder?

You wonder…you wonder where you went wrong that you were no longer enough for him.

And it doesn’t feel fair that you’re wondering that.

You take the photograph and crumple it even more before throwing it to the side and decide to open the notebook. And you see more puzzle pieces.

Routine

7 he wakes up….sometimes 8

Jungkook takes him to work sometimes for fun

Someone at work?? Who? Another list

Daycare usually Mondays & Thursdays for sure

Busiest days at work

You flip the page

Thursday the 14th, at the bus station,

The 18th when I was going home

There was a car parked outside on the street for 3 days

The 5th

The 8th

The 12th I ran into someone who knew me but I didn’t know them

A man with buzzed hair

Something hot bubbles inside your chest and it feels like it’s burning you. Anxiety has a touch of fire. You flip to the next page.

It just scribbles like you were frustrated.

Just like you are now.

You decide to close to the notebook. Discomfort swallowing you like a dry pill.

But you don’t stop looking through the box. Pictures of people you don’t know. More lists of times and dates. But no context. More frustration building.

Your head snaps up suddenly when you recall something falling so you quickly reach inside the secretive hole in the desk and feel around. Your fingers grasp at nothing until something cold is felt. You can tell what it is immediately as you wrap your fingers around the device. A phone.

You take the cold, shiny device in your clammy hands and rush to turn it on but it’s got a dead battery. You turn the phone upside down to check what kind of charger it takes and remember that downstairs in the kitchen there’s a drawer of random charging cables.

You need to get this thing turned on. Now.

“Are you okay?” You immediately straighten your back, phone dropping to the attic floor, the sudden voice a shock since you live alone. You quickly look around you, eyes darting from place to place but of course, there’s no one here. You feel sick. Especially because…didn’t that voice sound like—

“Are you okay?” Jungkook comes next to you, his eyes avoiding yours but he can’t hide the concern in his voice. You look at him, equally annoyed as he is. But still, you hear in his voice he doesn’t totally hate you.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, fingers picking at the bandage wrapped around your palm. “It just got scraped.”

Jungkook chuckles humorlessly, “Misuk said Subin threw up in her mouth because of the blood.”

You shrug, “Okay, it was pretty bad.”

Jungkook stays silent and the same tension that’s been building since Sana’s wedding is here again. You, Jungkook, Misuk and Subin came to Busan for the weekend to celebrate your mom’s birthday but today, the day of the party, has been anything but fun. One thing after the other, but the cherry on top was around 20 minutes ago when you accidentally sliced your palm open while helping in the kitchen.

Now you’re outside trying to cool off but the last person you want to see has come to check on you.

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook stares up at the tree you two are standing in front of outside your house. He doesn’t bother to try and soften his tone. Sure, it’s concerned but it’s also irritated.

“I told you it’s fine.” You answer, sounding clipped. “Just go back inside.”

“You’re mad at me if I’m inside. You’re mad at me if I’m outside.” He stuffs his hands in his front jean pockets and continues gazing at the tall tree. “I really don’t understand why you’re so up—”

“—Oh? You don’t?” You turn your head to glare at him, “Really?”

You watch Jungkook’s profile, his jaw tightening for a moment before he sighs out.

“I don’t know.” He tells you before turning to face you as well. Your eyes are narrowed but he sees plenty of disappointment in them. “Maybe I do. But I also seriously don’t.”

You look down to the ground, a moment of consideration because you kind of understand him. But then you recall last night and realize that no, he definitely should understand why you’re mad.

Things have changed between you two. Ever since Sana’s wedding, there’s been something different and enticing. Moments that feel way too charged to be platonic. But neither of you have spoken up about it. Maybe he’s afraid you don’t feel it. Or maybe you’re now just realizing you’re afraid he is the one who doesn’t feel it.

Because how doesn’t he understand that having his last serious girlfriend from Busan in your parents living room while they flirt with one another relentlessly in front of you, is not going to make you mad?

“You don’t think flirting with your ex-girlfriend in front of me wasn’t going to make me mad, Jungkook?” You throw the words at him without much care for his reaction. It’s an honest question, in your book.

“Okay,” Jungkook tilts his head back before running his hands through his hair, “So this is about Hanja.” He groans a little before giving in and taking a step closer to you. “I didn’t think it was a big deal…and you call her my ex girl-friend as if she doesn’t have a name. Hanja told me she had a lot of classes with you in High School!”

“And?” You deadpan. “Doesn’t make us friends.”

“Okay.” He nods but now he’s the one with disappointment in his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean you had to be rude.”

“You invited her to my mom’s birthday party!” You throw back, “And have barely even…” It sucks that your voice gets a little softer because you just want to make a point. “You’ve barely even looked at me since she’s been here.”

Jungkook’s lips part and he looks conflicted as he registers your words but you don’t wait for him to get it before you continue.

“Sure,” You manage a stubborn shrug, “Maybe you’re not flirting with her but you don’t stop her when she does with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow, “She hasn’t flirted with me, y/n.” He tries to assure you, his tone finally not irritated but instead the same soft as yours. “We just have history, you know? But that was what? 5 years ago? 6? 7? I don’t even know. We ended on good terms so I thought it was harmless. She’s in town too and had nothing to do…I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“I just…” You finally meet his eye for the first time more willingly, “I don’t know.”

He finally relaxes his features and a pleasantly pleased smile starts tugging at the corner of his lips, “You’re…jealous.” He confirms softly.

You raise a brow at him, feeling annoyed. “So then you do understand why I’m mad.”

“Yeah.” He agrees but you see the uncertainty in his eyes. “But I wasn’t sure. Maybe hoping but I couldn’t be sure, you know?”

“Did you want me to be jealous?” You ask, unsure how that makes you feel but you see genuine and quiet panic all over his face while he shakes his head.

“No, no.” He tells you with big eyes. “But when I realized you were mad at me, I thought it could be because you were jealous. And,” He pauses, swallowing what you think is nerves. “That’s why I became hopeful, I guess.”

“And why is that?” A cool breeze suddenly picks up and it feels nice against your cheeks.

“Because it might mean…” His words grow quieter, seeking your understanding of where he was going. “But without being direct…well, I can’t really be sure, you know?”

“Then why can’t we be direct?” You gesture between your bodies, “I like you, Jungkook.” It doesn’t take a lot of effort to say it, to admit it, but it does take a lot of effort to not tear your eyes away from him in embarrassment. But your gaze remains on his.

“And there’s no way I’m imagining—”

“—You aren’t!” Jungkook panics, his fingers flying to your wrists, holding on to them as he persuades your eyes to remain on his again. “You aren’t imagining it. I know it, too.” He tells you but he looks and sounds conflicted.

“For months, Jungkook.” You say quietly, “I’ve been wondering for months if you’re going to make a real move on me.”

He can’t help but smile at you nervously, his clammy fingers still pressing into your wrists. “I just…” Jungkook’s smile begins dropping as he explains himself, “…I’m so afraid of talking about this because it might change our friendship and you’re just,” He pauses, eyes searching yours because he needs to see if you understand. “You’re too important, y/n.”

“You’d rather never tell me how you feel because it might change our friendship?” You ask him, ignoring the fire burning along the edges of your skin. “You would rather spend forever just wondering if I feel the same as you? Just like I’ve been wondering if you feel the same as me? Too afraid to talk about it because it…might change our friendship?”

Jungkook’s fingers finally disconnect from your skin and into his hair, his nerves only multiplying but he finds the courage to say, “If you didn’t feel the same, things would change.”

“If I didn’t feel the same then things wouldn’t have changed in the first place. Jungkook, things have already changed. And I don’t like wondering. We’re already past platonic so I’ll tell you—”

Suddenly, your head starts pounding.

A new memory unlocked.

And it only makes you sit on your attic floor and cry.

Great timing.

Your fingers feel frozen, maybe even numb as you dig through another random kitchen drawer to find the correct charger for the phone you’ve found. So far you haven’t been lucky. Then again, nothing feels lucky. You’ve been quiet to yourself all day after last night. Not even a thought out loud.

Your eyes grow watery again but you immediately slam your lids shut, squeezing tightly because you refuse to shed anymore tears. You might have to buy a new charger but you really aren’t in the mood to leave the house. You aren’t in the mood for anything except maybe hurling more old, worn out, decorative pillows at dusty furniture. But now you feel afraid for what you might find. The more mysteries you unlock, you’re afraid to unlock a memory along with it.

It's evening now, the kitchen clock says 6:13pm. The day has gone by. You watched the sun rise this morning and now you’re witnessing it set. You have yet to find it in you to sleep today. Maybe you’re afraid you’ll slip into your bed that you once shared with Jungkook and suddenly you’ll remember all the times you’ve slept in it with him. You can’t afford any more of that. Just yesterday you were begging 33 year old you to share some of the life you’ve missed and now that she is sharing some of the years…you’re realizing you aren’t ready.

You take a deep breath, shutting a drawer shut when you decide to order a new charging cable for the phone. Your eyes slide to the device that rests peacefully on the counter while your heart beats uncomfortably in your throat. You stare at it, wondering what contents lie inside but a part of you feels fearful of what you might find.

Taking another breath, you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging yourself for a moment before you decide to take care of this. Sitting yourself at the kitchen island, opening your laptop, you search the phone and get the cable ordered for delivery tomorrow. This is better than driving yourself nuts trying to find it.

You close your eyes, resting your head down to the counter, wishing you could turn your day around.

Ding Dong.

Your eyes snap open.

And something unsettling starts whirling in your belly. As if you can sense who is at your door.

Knock Knock Knock.

You groan quietly to yourself because you just know. You know exactly who it is for some insane reason. You just feel it. You stand from the stool and walk yourself to your front door. Swinging it open without even peeping through the hole to confirm your suspicions.

Jungkook’s doesn’t look too good. For as handsome as he is, he looks rough. His skin is dry, his lips are pale and the bags under his eyes give away how much sleep he isn’t getting. You don’t care though. Not about him. Your fingers grip around the door frame tighter, your skin burning at the sight.

“I just wanted to see how you were.” He tells you, voice so quiet you had to read his lips. You want to scoff bitterly in his face, shut him out and make him feel thrown away.

But your foot pushes the front door further open as you turn around to go into the living room. You’ve invited him in. Though, ‘invited’ feels like a strong word.

You can hear the door creak open even furth from behind you, shoes are shuffling onto the floor and the door clicks shut. You hold your breath as you walk to the sofa, sitting yourself down at the very end of it as your eyes glue themselves to the black screen of the TV.

Jungkook follows your lead and sits at the other end of the couch. In your peripherals, he looks like a big, black scribble of a thousand swirling lines and you don’t have it in you to focus your eyes on him and let him appear as Jungkook. As a person. So, you keep your eyes on the TV.

Nothing is said between you both for a long while, all your senses are heightened though as you anticipate his next words to you. The hairs on your arms rise when the click of the AC goes off as it turns on. You wonder if his next words have to do with apologizing about cheating on you. Apologize to you that you just couldn’t be enough. Apologize to you for losing your son.

Your head slightly tilts in the direction of the kitchen when you notice the soft drip drops of water from the faucet. The distant bark from a small dog. Jungkook’s fingernails scratching his forearm. Every noise is going off in your ears, haunting you, taunting you and driving you insane.

You only want to hear his voice.

“Why are you here?” You finally break the noisy silence.

“To see you.” He says, voice quiet and afraid. “You’re doing better than me, huh?”

Your palms are flat against the couch cushion before you slowly curl your fingers, grabbing nothing of the material at his words. “Do you really think you get to say that to me?”

“This isn’t fair for either of us, y/n.” Jungkook has the audacity to keep speaking. “You just don’t understand.”

You twist your head to eye him, your jaw tight as you watch him sit on the sofa, eyes cowering away from yours. “You’ll stop talking now.” You tell him as your voice becomes quiet and afraid as well. You’re livid but you speak like you’re hurt.

“Then…” Jungkook pauses, his eyes going all around the living room now before he sighs. “Then I’ll just listen.”

You push your head back in disbelief, “I didn’t ask you to come here so I can talk to you. In fact, I didn’t ask you to come here at all.”

He finally turns his head toward you, his eyes are red and watery and you hate that you hate seeing him on the verge of tears. You watch his throat as you pay attention to the hard way he swallows. “I know. But I had to see you.”

Suddenly, your head starts pounding, a harsh banging from inside your forehead. You quickly let your head fall into your hands when those words keep repeating inside your mind. I know. But I had to see you. I know. But I had to see you. I know. But I had to see you.

You groan into your hands. The pain erupting on all sides of your head. The words repeating over and over, making your ears feel like they’re bleeding. I know. But I had to see you.

“y/n?” You hear Jungkook’s quiet and afraid voice.

I know. But I had to see you.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me…” Jungkook’s eyes are blood shot. You know he’s been drinking again.

“I know.” You mutter, “But I had to see you.”

“Oh.” He stumbles backward, his hand widening his front door to his new, shitty apartment. You feel anger bubbling, because you know he’s drunk. You’re doing everything in your power to keep it together and he’s wasting his time drinking.

“You’ve shut out Jimin.” You tell him, cutting to the chase. “So you don’t know anything, do you?”

“W-What’s there to know? I don’t need them anymore. Also, I was fucking fired.”

You snap your eyes to his as he still stands at his open doorway. “You’re pissing me off, Jungkook.”

“I can do this on my—”

“—They’re closing the case.” You say. “They’re saying he’s…that he’s…” You pause, throat growing drier. “You know.”

“I don’t know.” Jungkook drunkenly shrugs, slamming the door shut, making you flinch. “They’re all wrong, anyway.”

You feel your shoulders growing tenser, your lips in a hard, thin line before they die into a frown. “They’re saying we should hold a funeral.”

Jungkook’s body goes still, his hanging arms at his sides suddenly rise to his face when he rubs his temples. “Excuse me?”

“They want to—”

“Just stop!” He suddenly cries out, voice shrill. You see his eyes growing redder and redder as tears fill them up. “None of you know what you-you’re talking about. Just shut up, all of you!”

You flinch.

Jungkook’s fingers go into his hair when he starts pulling on the strands. “This just isn’t right.” He keeps muttering to himself, “I got this. I got this. I got this.” He starts pacing back and forth in front of his coffee table. “Just stop. Stop talking.”

You stand in silence.

“I said stop talking!”

You watch him unravel.

“Jung—”

Glass breaks across the coffee table. A shattered soju bottle that he’s thrown.

You flinch again.

You take a step back.

Jungkook falls to the floor, crying and yelling at no one. The loss of your son is much worse than you could have imagined. But you knew telling Jungkook about the funeral was going to cause something more serious to unravel. But you didn’t imagine this.

“y/n?” Jungkook voice sounds sober now. “y/n?”

Your head is about to split into sections, the pain so overwhelming.

You lift your face from your hands, your cheeks overflowing with tears. Why did you have to remember that?

“Hey,” Jungkook stands from the sofa and comes closer to you. His hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder but just like in your memory, you flinch. He immediately frowns. “y/n…” He brings his hand back to his body. “Talk to me, I’ll just listen.”

“G-go.” You keep your head low as your eyes stay glued to your lap. “Please just go.”

His hands freeze at his sides, using all of his self-control. Even you can feel how tense his body is, just from the heat that radiates off of it. You’re being serious. He needs to go before you spiral into one of your throbbing headaches that give you a panic attack. The kind you can manage on your own—and prefer to.

“Please, Jungkook…” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m not feeling well now so pl—”

“—Okay.” His fingers curl into hard fists. “Call me if you need anything. Please.” He stands here for another moment, like his feet have become glued to the floor and he’s unable to move. But after a tentative sigh, they finally move. And your ears bleed again at each sound that can be heard. The click of the AC turning off, the small dog whining in your neighbor’s yard, each drip of water dropping from the faucet and finally the whoosh of the front door opening and closing shut. And you finally let go a long, long breath.

Your head hurts and your heart hurts, the memory fresh in your mind. You never imagined to see Jungkook…like that. You barely recognized him. Does he have a drinking problem? Or did? You need to erase these images in your head, or at least scatter something pretty over them. And that’s when you get an idea that you know is pure torture.

One of the boxes from the attic is sat on your living floor, with your bottom plopped right next to it. It’s a box you organized yourself, you can tell. Just a box of intimate memories with your ex-husband. You pull out a letter you’ve read at least six times now…might as well make it seven.

The envelope is pink with little hearts drawn all over it and though it’s only eight years old, it looks like it’s at least 20. The envelope itself is wrinkly with random water stains and the page inside is soft and used like you’ve read this letter a thousand times. Might as well make it a thousand and one.

You slip the paper out of the envelope, unfolding it carefully, the crinkling paper opening up with Jungkook’s handwriting written all over.

April 10 2015

Dear y/n,

Hi it’s me, your boooooyfriend. >.< sorry I’m still getting used to it. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing a letter when I could just call or text you but you seemed to think it was cute in that movie we watched the other day and so Im writing you one too!! Also, I think my peers are thinking Im working really hard on a case. I wish I was but they won’t give me anything good. I know it hasn’t even been a year since I finally landed here in the Investigation sector as a detective but they still treat me like such a rookie…blaaaahhhhh you know this already. The captain seems to think I have potential though. But ya know what? The guys here said the only thing ive done right so far is getting you as a girlfriend hahaha

Maybe they’re right I mean they’re definitely right

I miss you so much

Im sitting here at my desk writing you and its just making me miss you a kabillzillion times more…….i seriously aaaaahhhh im going crazy because I miss you that much

Im so lucky youre so amazing and my favorite person to exist and so pretty so pretty

I know we’ve only been together for a short while but what if I told you I know exactly how I feel about yoooouuuuu huh what if

Ask me about it when I see you tonight

Love,

Jungkook Your cheerios

You read it. Then you read it again. This is the Jungkook you want to remember.

It’s the next day and you’re opening the package you ordered just yesterday. Pulling out a small box, you get it open and unravel the charging cable to the phone you’ve found. Taking a look at the clock, you realize you’re a bit behind. You wanted to get to the café at noon for work but it’s already 15 after. You quickly plug the charger into the wall and get the phone charging. It’s dead so it’ll take a while to get turned on so you decide to leave it here while you head out.

The café is a bit busy today, more people than you’re used to, but thankfully you see an open table. You set up your laptop and get to work. Taking a pause to message Mijoo about needing some guidance if she can meet any of these days. It would be nice to have some help in person. After working for a bit, you can’t help but lift your face from the screen and dart your eyes around the place. No sign of Seokjin today. Not that it means anything but he’s got the kind of warm, reassuring smile that you could use these days.

And just like clockwork, the quiet bell dings when he walks through the café’s front door. He meets your eye immediately and gives you a small nod and the smile you were searching for. You nod back, eyes going back down to the laptop before you take another peak towards Seokjin. He’s walked up to the counter, talking with the young girl that’s always here. After a moment she hands him a box of what you assume are desserts. Maybe he’s giving them to the elderly again.

Then he walks out.

Oh, he isn’t staying today.

That’s okay, you don’t have time to chat with a harmless nice guy anyway. You have work to do. Something to truly get your mind off of everything else you’ve been going through. You think it’s a miracle you have it in you to try every day. In another universe, you might have already gone insane.

After working a little while longer, you pack your things up and head to your car. It’s a sunny day, barely any clouds in the sky and it feels warm. Warm enough to make you forget this coldness that lingers all around you, all inside you.

You start driving home when you remember you’re supposed to pick up a few groceries so you stop by the market first. It’s not too crowded and since you’re in an okay mood, you decide to put in your earphones and walk inside with a pep to your step. You needed zucchini…what else? Bread for sure was on your list. Peanut butter, eggs, oh yeah and some chips for when you get a craving.

You start heading to the aisle with peanut butter when you recognize someone familiar.

“Seokjin?” You mumble his name but he doesn’t hear you. His eyes fully focused on his jams. He stands here, deep in thought before he finally reaches for one.

“Hi.” You say a little louder and he jumps in his spot.

He turns to face you, ears turning red when he sees you. “Hi.” He stares at you dumbfounded for a moment, “I just realized I don’t know your name.” Then he chuckles.

You can’t help but crack a smile, “It’s y/n.”

“Ah, y/n. Yeah, that suits you.” He tells you confidently.

“Does it?”

“Do you usually shop here?” Seokjin gestures around the aisle, “I’ve never seen you before. Or are you…” He suddenly drops his smile and looks serious. “Following me?” Then he breaks into a huge smile before adding, “Dun, dun, duuuun.”

You feel your stomach swirl with something before you shake your head, feeling embarrassed. “No, no! I live around here actually. This is just a coincidence.”

“A coincidence, huh? A lot of those lately.” He gives you another smile, this time more teasing. “We should just meet on purpose, you know.”

You stand here, taken aback by his words. Is he implying meeting intentionally?

He seems to feel your shift. “Unless, unless…” His eyes avert yours now, his ears turning a deeper shade of red. “Sorry. Unless you don’t want to. Maybe you’re already seeing someone.”

You shake your head quickly, “No. I’m…I’m not.” You’re not but it feels wrong to say it. “But I wasn’t assuming…anything. Like, if you were implying a date or something.”

Seokjin pouts his lips before glancing up at the ceiling, “Why not? You would have been right.”

You blink at him, taken aback again. “Oh.”

“I happen to know a pretty great restaurant. Maybe we can not coincidentally meet there?”

He’s…asking you out.

And it pains you because… “I can’t. Sorry,” You look down at your feet before glancing towards the jams. “Umm, I’m kind of going through something and—”

“—Oh.” Seokjin nods his head quickly. “No, no. I understand…you don’t have to explain. I’m kind of going through something too and I know that a good way to get through it is some nice company every now and then.” He gives you a warm smile, all the teasing gone. “I understand you though. So don’t worry but…” He suddenly pats his pants pockets before looking delighted. “In case you change your mind…I’m learning to…how do they kids say…shoot my shot.” He suddenly pulls out a receipt and a pen and scribbles something on it before handing it to you.

His number.

“Just in case!” He cheeses harder.

“I honestly don’t think it’s a big deal.” Misuk looks at you through the camera, her face looking brighter. “It’s just a date!”

“It is a big deal.” You whine again, “I’m in love with someone else and I have a whole lot of mess going on.”

Subin nods her head sympathetically, “That’s true. But I think Misuk means it’s not a big deal because it could be…” She pauses, clearly thinking of the right words. It’s amusing to you to see they might agree on this. “A good thing? A simple thing! A little, you know, fun thing!”

“Exactly!” Misuk drags out the word, “You don’t have to fall in love but you’re so focused on…you know, your memories…that you aren’t living life.”

“Uh,” You begin to defend yourself, “I’m—”

“—Yes, yes.” Misuk waves you off, “You are getting back into work! And that’s good! But you really should start living a normal life again.”

“And…” Subin looks off camera, her eyes looking softer. “It’s kind of the same. You are missing your memories, yes, and I’m so sorry…but 33 year old you was the same. Divorced. And I don’t think you were in any headspace to even think about wanting Jungkook back.” She finishes quietly.

“You wanted nothing to do with him.” Misuk tells you. “So just live a little…you know, just normal things. And who knows, it might help with your memories.”

You sit still for a moment. You’ll admit that you haven’t exactly been living normally. You mostly sit around all day, alone, surrounding yourself with things you don’t understand and torture yourself with memories of Jungkook.

“Anyway, I’ll let you guys know if anything changes.” You chuckle after you focus your eyes on your friends again. “I just got home so I gotta put these groceries ...away" Your eye notices the list lying on the counter and you realize..."Damn, and I forgot the eggs. Anyway, I’ll call later!” You sing out.

“Okay! Bye!”

“Bye!” Subin sings back. And you end the call.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe you deserve a little break or something simple and fun. You bite your lip, thoughts still lingering but you decide to reach into your back pocket and pull out the receipt Seokjin gave you. You shake your head quickly but reach for your phone and input the number and press call. You need light in this darkness.

You hate feeling defeated.

Sitting on your sofa, blanket wrapped tightly around you as your hand clenches around this cold, empty and useless device.

The phone has either never been used or was completely wiped. You thought you could torture yourself with more information but you’ve come out of this empty handed. There’s nothing on here. No call history, no text history, no pictures or videos…nothing. You squeeze the phone harder, frustration still building. When your actual phone buzzes.

Your eyes shoot down to your now lit up phone and you drop the useless one to the couch cushion. It might be Subin gushing about this band she’s seeing this weekend. You’ll ignore—

Buzz.

You give in, reaching for your phone and your stomach does its usual uneasy swirling.

Jungkook 9:10pm

How are you feeling?

Jungkook 9:10pm

We don’t have to talk but at least tell me how youre doing…

Your eyes slam shut, the urge to cry too strong. Because you’re hurt. You’re hurting. You’re confused. You’re angry. And you’re sad.

Why are you so weak? You should delete him, block him and throw your whole phone away. Because your phone knows him and you don’t.

But you’re weak because you’re going to text back.

Except Jungkook beats you to it.

Jungkook 9:13pm

Did you get hit with a headache earlier? You okay? Have you seen your doctor lately?

All these questions are giving you different kind of headache.

You 9:13pm

Its fine, Im fine

You lie

Jungkook 9:13pm

Liar

You 9:14pm

Jungkook

You 9:14pm

Do you have a drinking problem?

You press send. You see the bubbles pop up your screen, indicating that he’s typing but they disappear. Then they reappear. And disappear again.

You 9:16pm

Jungkook?

Jungkook 9:16pm

Who told you that?

You feel your shoulders tense.

You 9:16pm

No one told me

You 9:17pm

I just remember when I went to your place…there was a lot of alcohol lying around and the place seemed rough

You 9:17pm

And idk I got thinking. Im not trying to accuse you or anything but…is what I saw…what I think it is?

You send. It’s not a total lie. Not what you’re referring to…but not a total lie.

You stare at the screen but there’s no indication if he’s read your message or not. No typing. Nothing. Your eyes glance at the clock and it reads 9:19pm now. It’s okay. Only two minutes. But why does it feel like eternity?

9:25pm and all you’ve done is sit, tightly wrapped in a blanket on your couch, and stare at your phone screen, touching the screen every time it times out. And still nothing.

But then you see bubbles pop up.

Back straightening, you breathe in and out as your eyes remain on the screen.

He’s been typing for three minutes.

You hold your breath now.

Jungkook 9:28pm

And if it is?

You let out a short breath, disbelief crawling all over your skin that you throw the blanket off of you and stand from the couch. Your memories are reliable.

You feel a sting pierce your eyes but you grit your teeth and hold any tears back. This is just too much for you to accept. You walk into the kitchen, frustration raging inside your body. You step up to the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter before leaning forward, sighing out your anger.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Calming down, you immediately grab a bowl and sniffle to yourself. You’ll just do these dishes and forget all about this.

You take another bowl, the hot water burning your fingers and palms as you absentmindedly scrub it clean.

“Sometimes I think you wash clean dishes at this point.” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

You laugh, “Not true.”

“The water is too hot, baby.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, suddenly pecking it softly. “You’re going to melt the skin off your bones.”

You realize he’s right, the water is really hot but you were just lost in thought. Your wedding is in two days. You get out of your thoughts while you set the bowl back into the sink and turn the faucet off. “I’m just—”

“I know.” Jungkook nuzzles his nose into your warm skin. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s nervous between us.”

You sigh, small smile on your face. “I’m not nervous. But I am, a little.”

“I know.”

“Not in a bad way.”

“I know that too.”

“In a…marrying the love of my life, wow life is crazy kind of way.” You dry your hands before twisting in Jungkook’s embrace and you lean in to kiss him. “You probably know what I mean.”

He laughs against your lips, “I would be the one who knows exactly what you mean.”

Your lips twist into a sheepish smile, “I missed you today.”

“I missed you more.”

You roll your eyes, a teasing smile forming now. “Liar.”

He looks surprised for a second before rolling his own eyes, “I’m serious.”

“You’re only serious about work nowadays.” You tease him, and you are mostly teasing. It’s only lately he’s been zeroed in on a case.

But Jungkook frowns, “It isn’t going well.” He admits to you. “I don’t know that we’ll get this one.”

“You will.” You lean forward more and nudge your nose against his, “You are the best there is.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Unfortunately I’m still in the ‘proving myself’ phase.”

“Here too.” You continue to tease him, “Still deciding if this wedding is happ—”

“—Heeeeey, don’t joke like that.” Jungkook nudges his nose against yours now, “Tell me I’m the best here too.”

Your hands trail down his chest, eyes focusing on his. “You are.”

“I wish Jimin would tell me that too.” He laughs a little but you know he’s serious. You take his hands in yours.

“You guys are new at being partners. Give it time, babe.”

“He hates me.” Jungkook sighs, “He thinks I mess everything up. And honestly, I can’t blow this one, y/n. The captain believes in me, which is good but my own partner doubts me.”

You understand this is hard for Jungkook to accept.

“Listen…” You give his hands a squeeze. “This is your first big one, right? Take it slow and I know you won’t get flustered like the last one.”

He immediately drops his hands from yours, “I can’t get like how I was with the last one.” Jungkook takes a step away from you, “This one is way too serious…the men I’m dealing with, y/n…you have no idea. I can’t mess this up.”

“Baby…” You feel bad for bringing up the last case he took with Jimin. He got too involved emotionally and when things didn’t end up well for the victim…”It’s okay. You have me to talk about this with and—”

“—But I don’t. I’m legally not allowed to. I got in trouble with sharing so much last time and…fuck,” Jungkook pauses. Closes his eyes slowly before taking a step forward and reaching for your hands again. “This is not what we need to be talking about right before our wedding. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You give his hands another squeeze. “We share our lives. With or without marriage, right?”

“I only wanna talk about us.” He breathes out softly, his lips inching closer to yours. “Let’s focus on you and me.”

And your skin is burning again. It’s on fire. Too much fire, it hurts.

And that’s when you realize you’re still here at your kitchen sink, hot lava rushing to your skin, burning you as you hold the bowl you were cleaning.

You take a deep breath, taking a step back from the sink when you slam your eyes shut and let out a loud groan. You don’t even flinch when the sound of glass hits the floor because you’ve thrown the bowl. You don’t care.

Another memory.

And it seems they’re all out of order.

Another bead of sweat dribbles down the side of Jungkook’s face, rolling right off his skin. And another miserable night. He gently throws his head back against the bathroom wall, his hairline drenched from hour two of hurling in the toilet. He’s drank too much again. Maybe some bad food poisoning in there. But even still, he knows he’s drank too much.

He isn’t abusing the alcohol, really. Not lately. But he knows what it can do to him. He hates it. He hates himself.

He hates this existence.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut before he groans to himself, knocking his head back a few more times. What is he doing?

He misses you.

He wants to make things right.

How?

Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before trying to stand from the floor. He’s wobbly but he manages. He’s tired and he isn’t sleeping and he can’t because he knows you’re not. This is how he feels like he’s with you, the only real support he can give.

He looks at himself in the mirror, his tired eyes staring back at him. He wants to tell that guy to fuck off, for some reason. He wants to scoff at him and offer him no sympathy. Jungkook wants to raise his hands to that man’s throat and squeeze. He wants to swear at him and curse him. His mouth twists and his eyes grow teary and he sighs. Because all he can do is cry for him.

His head snaps up when the bathroom counter vibrates from his phone. Someone’s texted.

Unknown Number

Its me

Buzz.

Unknown Number

We need to talk

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkooks fics #Kim Namjoon #Kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #Kim taehyung #our time chapter 7

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reiding-writing · 4 months

Note

Hi i am absolutely in love with your writing. If you want to, could you write Reid having one of his migraines and reader just comforts him, yk massaging his scalp and forehead and whatnot while he lay in her lap. Idk man i just wanna see my boy get some relief from his headaches because in the show he just suffers through them ☹️

migraine massages [ s.r ]

Summary:

Migraines are the worst. They hurt and they stop you from doing absolutely everything. Spencer was silently pleading for relief from his own body, and you plan to fulfil those needs.

WARNINGS: details of migraines, vomit mentions, mentions of spencer’s addiction, mentions of relapse

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.7k

masterlist!!

a/n: can’t have hurt/comfort without the hurt. from a personal perspective, migraines suck bro. they suck so bad.

i’m also mildly disappointed that they didn’t expand the migraine thing after they dropped the original tumour reason, like they could’ve done so much with it-

thanks for the request! <33

Spencer felt like his skull was being hammered from the inside out. Like his brain was silently vying to escape it’s confines and break out of the bone. He felt like every nerve of his body was working against him to make sure he had the most miserable day humanly possible.

He felt like if he moved an inch from his position that the coffee and croissant that he had for breakfast this morning in an attempt to make himself feel better was going to force it’s way up out of his stomach and paint his desk in a sea of vomit.

The tinnitus ringing in his ears didn’t help, nor did the agitatingly bright while florescent lights of the office that he’d never seemed to take much notice of before.

His shoulders ached as he rested his head in his hands, his thumbs negligibly working against his temples to attempt to relieve some of the aching pressure that sent waves through his head and made him want to curl up into ball under his bed covers and never wake up.

“Spence? Are you okay?” Your voice is deliberately quiet as you approach his desk on your return from the kitchenette, steaming mug of coffee cupped in your hands and concern written all over your face.

You can almost hear the sigh of relief as he realises it’s just you and not Hotch asking him for the fourth time today for the file he’d been trying to finish for the last almost three hours.

He doesn’t look up at you yet, merely replying a weak “hi…yeah…just a headache”

You can see him try to suppress a grimace as his own voice overloads his eardrums and sends another wave of pain through his head.

You knew what a headache looked like. And what he was experiencing looked nothing like ‘just a headache’.

“A headache? You look like you’re in a lot of pain, have you-” You begin to question his pain relief, but catch yourself before asking about painkillers. As much as they definitely shouldn’t be, opioids are the most common form of pain relief prescribed for migranes, and you knew that if he had gone to the doctors for the pain, he would’ve turned them down.

At least you hope so anyway.

“Have you… had it for long?”

There’s a pause, before an almost imperceptible nod comes from him. “Three hours… three hours and eighteen minutes…. I thought it was gonna pass but… it’s getting worse….” he swallows before forcing out the next part “…I feel sick….”

You give him a small nod and a pursed expression, becoming increasingly concerned as he continues his explanation, and you can just barely catch how pale his face has gone underneath his hands.

“You should go home Spence…”

He looks up from his desk at that suggestion. As he’s trying to answer he gets cut off by a blinding pain that explodes behind his eyes. He gasps and clutches his head, dropping back into his chair before closing his eyes. “Agh….”

“Spencer…” You can’t help but wince slightly at Spencer’s clear display of pain. “Let me drive you home, you’re not fit to work right now,”

He wants to argue but his mouth is dry. The pain is just too much for him to focus on anything else, including having an opinion, so instead he simply nods.

“Give me two seconds okay? I’m going to go and tell Hotch and then we can go,”

That seems to be a satisfactory answer for now, because he just nods again. He’s not quite ready for the onslaught of light and sounds that will be the outside world just yet. He simply leans his head back and closes his eyes, trying to relax and focus on his breathing.

It takes you a little under two minutes to return, and the first thing you do is take both of your messenger bags onto your shoulder and dispose of your coffee mug on your desk.

You hold out a hand tentatively to him to help him up from his chair. “Here, let’s get you home,”

He takes your hand, slowly getting on his feet as his change in positioning sends another wave of pain shooting through the front of his head. He’s leaning on you for balance as you lead him out of the BAU office. His vision is still blurry, but at least having someone to lean on stops him from having to risk tripping over.

You have to help him into your car once your reach the parking lot, reclining the passenger’s seat as far back as it’ll go so that he’s not forced to sit upright for the whole ten minute drive.

You make an effort to keep the vehicle smooth as you pull out of the office, checking periodically over at your side to make sure that Spencer is alright. Or as alright as he can be anyway.

Once you reach Spencer’s apartment complex, you shut off the car and collect both of your belongings, getting out yourself and then walking around to assist Spencer in getting up.

It’s clear from his expression that he wouldn’t’ve managed the task on his own. He leans on you in a combination of gratitude, comfort and convenience, and he continues to use you as a crutch through the front entrance to the elevator and all the way up to his apartment door, where he struggles to insert his key in the lock through his shaking hands.

“You got it?”

He gives a weak “mhm” as he fumbles with the keys in the lock for a few seconds more, but eventually manages to unlock the door and step inside with you.

“Take a seat Spence,” You lead him carefully over to his couch and sit him down before walking across the room to pull his curtains shut and dump your bags on his reading chair.

As you pull the curtains shut and turn around again, you notice the room being a little messier than usual. Books and papers have been scattered over the room, and there were several mugs and glasses dotted around.

Clearly this wasn’t his first migrane.

Spencer is increasingly grateful the room isn’t too bright as the shade covers the room, allowing him to relax into the cushions of the sofa as you kneel to help him remove his shoes before removing your own.

He doesn’t resist your assistance. The pain still hasn’t subsided enough for him to be in the mood to resist anything. He keeps his eyes closed the whole time you unlace his shoes, just grateful for any relief he can get.

“l’m going to get you some water okay?” Spencer nods at this suggestion. At this point he’s too tired and nauseous to try and fight you, so as you leave the room, he lays his head over the back of the couch and just waits for you to come back with the water.

You return with both a glass of water and a small holding a few ice cubes, handing Spencer the glass and leaving the towel on the coffee table to chill under the presence of the ice. “Drink,”

He takes the glass from you, before slowly leaning forward and sipping the water. Your presence seems to bring him a lot of comfort, much more than he probably realises.

He continues drinking until the glass is empty, seemingly more dehydrated than he realised.

You take a seat next to Spencer has he finishes the glass, and you take it from him gently and place it down on his coffee table.

He takes a deep breath in, and out, leaning back into the couch once more.

He’s trying so hard to focus on something other than his pain, but it’s difficult. So instead he focuses on one of the only other things he can feel, which is the warmth you radiate as you sit next to him. “Here, lie down Spence,”

You put a hand on his shoulder to help try and ease him down slowly so he doesn’t put himself in any more pain. “But there’s no space..”

“You can put your head in my lap it’s okay,” You lean over to grab the now cold towel, leaving the ice in the empty glass before patting your thighs as an indication for him to lie down. “Let me see if I can relive some of that lingering tension,”

If he were of his right mind right now he would’ve been somewhat embarrassed in such a scenario, but right now he’s just too tired and in pain to do anything else but submit to the situation.

He lays his head into your lap slowly, his face relaxing as he looks up at you with grateful eyes.

You chuckle softly as he blinks up at you, leaning down over him slightly to brush some hair off of his forehead. “Close your eyes Spence,”

You can see a slight pinkness in his cheeks as he closes his eyes. His expression is the perfect combination of relaxed and sleepy, although you can still see the traces of the pain he’s feeling through the knit in his eyebrows and the tension in his shoulders.

Just hearing the sound of your voice fills his head with warmth and relaxation; Even if his head is still pounding he feels a lot better just being able to listen to you.

As his eyelids flutter closed, you place the damp cold towel over them, raking your fingers gently through his hair to ensure that nothing gets caught underneath the fabric ans slowly detangling it in the process.

For a moment your touch sends him into heaven, and he can actually feel the tension and pain receding from his body.

As he relaxes, his body slowly begins to respond to the touch with warm and fuzzy feelings. He wants to savour every second of this, to commit the sensation to memory, to never forget the feeling of your warm and gentle touch.

“How long have you been having migraines for Spencer?” You make an effort to keep your tone as soft as possible, moving your attention from running your hands through his hair to kneading your fingers against his temples.

“they’re a fairly recent thing… been having them on and off for a few weeks now….” As your hands work on his temples the pain once again starts to recede significantly. It’s still there, it probably will be for a long time, but it’s no longer all pervading. “…they can be a little debilitating some days….”

“Have you…” you trail off your question, unsure if your right to ask him it. “Never mind-“

He pulls the fabric of the towel from his eyes and blinks them up at you. The dark circles under his eyes are still clearly evident, but it’s not really surprising considering all that’s been happening to him. “…you were gonna ask if i’ve been using again weren’t you?”

“…i’m just worried about you…”

You continue to gently massage at his temples as he sees right through your apprehension.

He can’t help but sigh softly as you indirectly admit to him being right in his assumption of your question. Your concern is appreciated, albeit unnecessary. “…I’m not using anymore… I quit… I’m serious…”

He plasters a small smile on his face as a form of reassurance, though it’s pretty weak considering the fatigue his headache was providing him. “Just having a bad bout of migraines this week… that’s all….”

“Can I just- see your arms? Please?” Your fingers halt their movements as you ask the question, fully focused on receiving an answer. “I just want to make sure…”

His body tenses up a little bit as the request is made, but he complies nonetheless. He slowly raises his arms and hikes up his shirt sleeves, exposing the flesh of his forearms to your view.

There’s no marks on them, no dark scars and no signs of track marks.

He’s clean, and you can tell from his body language alone that he’s telling the truth.

You can feel your shoulders physically relax as your eyes examine his skin, and your expression softens as you look down at him. “thank you…”

“I told you, I’m serious about staying clean….” He lowers his arms, closing his eyes again. He’s back where he was a few minutes ago, a man almost fully at peace despite the fact that he’s still in pain.

“I know Spence..” You scratch gently at his scalp, feeling a little guilty about unofficially accusing him of a potential relapse. But you had to know. You had to know that he was alright.

“I just care about you… I want you to be okay..”

As your fingers brush the base of his scalp he shivers slightly. The feeling is incredibly relaxing, more so than even the previous massage. He smiles softly at the fact that the pain has at least become bearable for now. “Thanks for looking after me…”

“Always,” The pad of your thumb brushes lightly against his cheekbone as you move to tuck a stand of hair behind his ear, knocked loose by him pulling on the hand towel that now laid crumpled on the floor.

Spencer’s eyes flicker slightly. The movement of your fingers across his cheeks is soothing, but also makes him feel something else entirely. It’s hard to describe.

He can’t deny the sensation that rises up from his stomach at these small gestures of affection. A part of him is enjoying it more than is probably okay, given the situation and how tired he is. All it amounts to are butterflies, but that’s enough to make his cheeks flush slightly. “you should take a nap Spencer,”

“mhm…” He nods in agreement. “but can I ask you a small favour first…?”

You mirror his nod with one of your own, your fingers returning to scratching gentle lines against his scalp. “Of course you can,”

There’s a small moment of silence before he speaks again, his eyes flickering between you and the ceiling.

“can you stay with me?”

His question is more of a request, and you swear that you melt from the innocent pleading in his tone.

With you around it’s almost like he doesn’t notice the pain at all. When he closes his eyes it feels like the world is completely at peace, like there’s no need to worry about anything else at this moment in time.

“…please…?” the last word is almost a whisper.

You don’t hesitate in your answer, giving him a soft smile. “of course i will..”

You let out a small breath of air alongside your words, your eyes entranced with the relaxed expression on Spencer’s face, mixed with relief at your willingness to spend a few more hours with him.

Spencer feels a small smile form on his lips as you respond. His hands raise slightly and clutch at your thighs, gently gripping at them almost compulsively.

Now that he knows you’ll be sticking around for a while, all he wants to do is fall asleep in your company.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

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moonscriptsx · 8 months

Text

Daylight || 02 (M)

PART 1

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

SYNOPSIS: Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.

PAIRING: CEO!Wonwoo x Assistant!Reader [with appearances by Mingyu (a self-proclaimed Cupid extraordinaire), Soonyoung & Joshua as supportive besties, Seungkwan & Seokmin as the life of the party, Seungcheol (a menace), and a brief glimpse of Chan.]

GENRE: Coworkers→Friends→Lovers!AU – Fluff + Smut [minors dni]

WORDS: 12.7k.

WARNINGS: Slowburn, pining from both ends. Reader is constantly in a silent crisis when it comes to feelings, and Wonwoo is possessive (both in and out of the bedroom). Mentions of alcohol, cursing, and grinding on the dancefloor. Wonwoo is a slightly hard!dom but talks you through it so sweetly it'll make you melt. Oral (both recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), messy orgasms. Slight choking, dirty talk, alludes to squirting. Wonwoo is a pussy fiend.

A/N: We've made it to part 2!!! Thank you to everyone who left messages/comments on the first part! Seeing such positive feedback has made my heart soar to the heavens and honestly a little emotional hahahaha. This is the first thing I've written in almost 4 years so I was a little apprehensive when it came to posting 'cause I felt like I was incredibly rusty. Anyway, enough blabbering from me – I hope everyone enjoys the final part! 🥰

PLAYLIST: wonder by shawn mendes // right here by chase atlantic // with me by sum41 // never let me go by florence + the machine // love (feat. zacari) by kendrick lamar // wfm by realestk // mine (feat. drake) by beyonce // fine line by harry styles

The pounding in your head is a telltale sign of a night well spent when you wake up the next day, a groan emitting from your lips. Somehow Soonyoung had convinced everyone to migrate from the club to a karaoke bar halfway through the night, resulting in you stumbling home drunk off your ass at half past three in the morning. And while a hangover is a sign of a successful night out — you want nothing more than to shove your face back into your pillow.

Just as you maneuver yourself to dive back under the covers, your phone buzzes from beside you, the ringer doing absolutely nothing to aid your headache as you blindly reach for the device, not bothering to look at the caller.

“Hello?” You grumble, irritated at the disruption.

A deep chuckle ringing in your ear has your body shooting straight up from your bed.

“Rough night, sweetheart?” Wonwoo’s voice is teasing and you can’t help but feel your face flush at the endearing term.

“I — Mr. Jeon!” You stutter out, face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t check to see who was calling before I answered.”

“Understandable,” he reassures. “With the amount of drinks we had last night I don’t blame you for sleeping in.”

Sleeping in…?

Bringing the phone away from your ear, you glance at the time on your phone.

10:45 am.

“Oh, fuck!” You cursed, ripping the covers away from your body as you scrambled to get out of bed. From the receiving end, Wonwoo can’t help but laugh as he hears the commotion on your side.

“Mr. Jeon, I'm so sorry —!”

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” there he goes again, using the term of endearment like it doesn’t send your heart hammering a mile a minute in your chest. “I just got to the office not too long ago. It’s not a big deal.”

But it is a big deal, you thought to yourself. Not once in the two years that you’ve been Wonwoo’s assistant have you ever been late. You pride yourself on being punctual, making sure to get to the office at least thirty minutes before you were scheduled just so that you could get everything set up and ready to go by the time you had to clock in.

“Sir I’m —“

“(Y/N),” Your breath catches in your throat at the sound of your name. “Are you in the office right now?”

Your eyebrows furrow at that.

“No,” you reply, confused.

“So why the formalities then?”

“I —“ you pause, trying to catch your breath from the sudden question. “You’re my boss. Am I not supposed to address you as such?”

“After last night, I’ve come to realize I don’t want you to call me anything but my name.”

Your face grows hotter at his words, flashes of the two of you unabashedly grinding against one another in the club fills your mind, and you’re sucking in a harsh breath as you try to ignore the heat growing in between your legs.

“Last night was kind of crazy, huh?” You bite your lip in nervousness, trying to steady your rapid heartbeat.

“It wasn’t enough for me.”

Oh, you thought to yourself. I’m fucked…

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out, and you can hear him sigh at the sound of his name.

There’s a brief silence on the other end and you’re starting to think maybe he’s regretting everything from last night to this morning until you hear his hum of approval.

“Anyways,” Wonwoo clears his throat. “Take your time getting to the office, sweetheart. You deserve a peaceful start to the morning.”

A soft hum escapes you at his words, an eyebrow quirking in amusement as you balance the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Are you sure?” You muse, teasingly. “I’m scared the office will be in shambles by the time I get there.”

A chuckle reverberates from the receiving end, butterflies filling your stomach as your boss tuts quietly.

“I’ll have you know that Mingyu is doing a fine job —“

“No I’m not!” There’s a groan in the background, a giggle escaping your lips as you hear a scuffle on the other end. “He’s torturing me, (Y/N)!”

“I am not,” Wonwoo scoffs.

“He’s making me wait on hand and foot for him!”

You let out a full blown laugh at that, shaking your head at Mingyu’s dramatics.

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo. “He’s not used to having to do things for someone else.”

“Excuse me — hey!”

There’s a distant bang on the receiver, the sound of a lock clicking through the phone and Mingyu’s distant shouts as you realize Wonwoo had closed the door to his office.

“I should give him more work,” you hear your boss grumble. “He’s been far too happy these days.”

“I have some ideas,” you muse in response, making Wonwoo chuckle.

“Good,” he hums. “We can go over them when you get here.”

It’s half past twelve in the afternoon when you finally make it into the office, in a much happier mood than you are usually in when you arrive in the morning. An iced coffee is in your right hand while you carry your laptop bag in the other, greeting every scowling face you pass by as you make your way to your desk. Placing your belongings onto your station, you pay no mind to the mass of missed calls as you push open the door to your boss’s office. There’s a playful smile painted on your lips as you cross your arms over your chest, body leaning against the doorframe as Wonwoo looks up from his computer, the man smirking as he sits back against his chair.

“There she is,” he greets. “Did you have a nice morning?”

“I slept peacefully,” you respond. “But I was rudely awakened by a phone call.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock concern. “And who dares to wake the princess from her slumber?”

You bite back a smile, adjusting your weight from one foot to the other, and give him a pointed gaze.

“My asshole boss.”

Your response has Wonwoo throwing his head back, a genuine laugh escaping him as he grins at your words.

“Touche,” he beams. “It’s been a dull morning without you here.”

It’s a genuine sentiment that makes your heart pound against your ribcage, those damned butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel your cheeks heat up as you bashfully break eye contact. Clearing your throat, you try to get a hold of the nervousness as you shoot him a questioning glance.

“Was Mingyu not keeping you enough company?” You ask.

“Not the kind of company I had hoped for.”

Wonwoo’s words make your breath catch in your throat, his sharp gaze heated underneath the thick rims of his glasses, and you felt your mouth go dry as you watched him lean back against his chair. Broad shoulders are slouched in comfort, his toned chest visibly defined through the tight fabric of his shirt. His sleeves are carelessly buttoned up to his elbows, the muscles of his arms making you want to salivate at the sight, and you can only blink at him before you snap out of your daze.

Unfolding your arms, you push yourself off of the doorway and gesture towards your desk placed right outside his office.

“I should get to work,” you murmur, making Wonwoo frown. “I'm already hours behind and I’m sure Mingyu didn’t do much to help.”

Not waiting around to hear his response, you turn on your heel and tread back to your desk, all the while trying to keep your heartbeat steady and those damn butterflies out of your stomach.

“Kim Mingyu, I'm going to murder you.”

The grumble falls out dejectedly from your lips as you glare at the screen in front of you, mentally cursing the tall businessman into oblivion. Not only had he rearranged the setup of your email, he had completely screwed up the excel sheet for next week’s company meeting. Every detail you had notated for Wonwoo was now scattered and jumbled amongst the cells as they sat in completely different categories than they had been previously. If you had been one of those old cartoon characters, you were certain that steam would be coming out of your ears.

Inhaling sharply, you crack your knuckles and your neck before hastily getting to work. The setback of sleeping in this morning has its consequences as you sit at your desk and try – keyword: try – to fix the absolute shitstorm that Mingyu had left behind. A task which ended up turning into hours upon hours of you clicking from cell to cell, meticulously moving each key point back to its designated section. There’s a slight sting in your eyes as your vision blurred from having to stare at the screen for so long, and you huff in annoyance as you save the excel spreadsheet, mentally waving a white flag as you give up on the document for the day.

Running your hands over your face, you glance at the clock at the bottom left of your screen.

05:54 PM.

Sighing in annoyance, you glance around the office. Most of your co-workers had left right at five, not wanting to spend another minute stuck in their cubicle. Had you not slept in, you would’ve gotten out sooner rather than later, but you wanted to make up for the time (and mistakes Mingyu had made) lost.

Hovering your cursor over your email, you clicked the envelope and stared at the unread emails on your screen. A quick glance over the senders names has you instantly weaning out the priority ones from the junk ones, before you’re opening one from Seungcheol. Skimming over his response, you can feel the air in your lungs tighten as your gaze freezes over the last sentence of his response.

Ms. (Y/N),

Your speedy response as well as the insight you have provided is much appreciated! It’s nice to know that the man I am working on this project with has such a reliable and efficient staff working for him. Please tell Wonwoo I am looking forward to this meeting next week.

P.S; I did not realize a congratulations was in order for the two of you! I wish you a happy and healthy marriage! Many blessings to you both.

Choi Seungcheol – Personal Representative of Choi Industries

Glancing at the email Mingyu had sent from your account earlier that morning, your blood runs cold as your gaze darts to the signature printed on the screen below your response.

Much regards, Jeon (Y/N).

“KIM MINGYU!”

You’re fuming as you bolt out of your chair and yell out into the quiet office space, the quickened pace of your heart pumping loudly in your ears as your angered footsteps walk away from your desk and down the hallway into Mingyu’s office. If looks could kill you knew he would be dead as his eyes widened, a pleading - almost puppy like - gaze falling on yours as he raised his hands in defense.

“I didn’t do it!” He denies, and you can only grit your teeth at the businessman.

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You were the only one on my computer today.”

“How do you know that?” He asks, defensively. “You were out all morning. Someone else could’ve used it.”

“Don’t play with me, Gyu,” you grit out harshly. “This is my job you’re messing with!”

Mingyu’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” He questioned. “All I did was rearrange a few things -”

“My email signature!” You yelled, anger flaring through your veins as realization crossed his features. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

The defensive expression on Mingyu’s face washes into a smug one, brown eyes dancing with mischief as he smirks and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

“Oh, that,” he muses. “You don’t like it?”

“I am going to murder you,” you bite out, making Mingyu’s smirk widen into a shameless grin.

“It’s not that big of a deal -”

“What’s going on?”

You instinctively freeze at the deep rumble from behind you, eyes widening in alarm as you give Mingyu a warning glance. The man in front of you only beamed in delight as he leaned around your frame from where he sat at his desk to grin at your boss who was now standing behind you.

“Your assistant is threatening me,” he states, pointing a finger in your direction. “I don’t feel safe in this workplace.”

Wonwoo purses his lips, giving Mingyu an accusing glance.

“I’m sure it’s for good reason,” he muses. “She doesn’t just threaten anyone.”

“You’re taking her side?!” The businessman whines, slouching in defeat. “None of you in this office have my back.”

Your glare hardens as you stare at the man before you.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an insufferable prick we’d be a lot nicer.”

Mingyu’s mouth drops open at your words, hurt flashing across his features as his face falls.

“(Y/N),” he murmurs. “It was a joke.”

You could feel Wonwoo take a step closer towards you, the warmth of his body mere centimeters from your back as he towers over your frame to glare at Mingyu.

“What did you do?”

He doesn’t even have to raise his voice to get his point across, the harsh tone a warning in itself as he glowers at his friend.

Mingyu lowers his head in defeat.

“I changed her email signature,” he mutters, shamefully.

Wonwoo’s jaw sets.

“Changed it to what?” He asks. Mingyu’s gaze is still locked on the papers scattered on his desk.

“Jeon (Y/N).”

A wave of embarrassment crosses your features at Mingyu’s words as you fight off the heat that floods your cheeks. From behind you, you can feel Wonwoo inhale sharply, followed by an exasperated exhale falling from the CEO as he inched closer to your form. A fleeting touch of his fingers brushing against the small of your back has you freezing on the spot, your body not willing to move an inch as Wonwoo’s presence looms over you.

There’s a pregnant pause, no breaths taken, until a soft rumble reverberates against your back.

“Well,” Wonwoo begins, a smirk of amusement playing on his lips. “That explains the influx of texts and emails congratulating me on my marriage.”

A sharp turn of your head has your gaze falling on the amused CEO behind you, your eyes widening in shock as you stare at your boss. Mingyu lets out a bark of a laugh, a sigh of relief escaping him as Wonwoo’s eyes glint in the lights, his glasses long forgotten in his office as he quirked an eyebrow at you.

You’re rendered speechless at the two men, completely taken off guard at their unbothered stance on the matter at hand. Your weary gaze meets Wonwoo’s humorous one, your boss offering you a reassuring smile before he’s looking towards Mingyu.

“Go change it back,” he orders, giving his friend a warning look. Mingyu’s amusement diminishes instantaneously.

“Aw, c’mon,” he groans. “Is it really that big of a deal?!”

“Yes,” you grit harshly, glaring at the tall brunette. “It’s unprofessional.”

Mingyu pouts, eyes darting back and forth between you and Wonwoo.

“It wouldn’t be if it was true.”

His murmured words have your fists clenching at your sides, your lips parting to scold him once more when Wonwoo places a hand on your shoulder, urging you to stay quiet.

“Now.”

Mingyu flinches at Wonwoo’s order, his head hanging low shamefully as he begrudgingly pushes himself away from his desk. Wonwoo’s hand stays put on your shoulder, slender fingers gently grasping your body as he subtly pulls you into him as his friend trudges out of the office.

“And Mingyu?” He calls out, making his friend freeze on the spot as he half turns to look back at his boss. “Go pick up the food I ordered from Dae’s.”

Mingyu’s mouth falls open, a whine escaping him.

“What?!” He splutters, helplessly. “She’s the assistant -”

“And she’s assisting me with something else,” Wonwoo cuts him off. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Closing his mouth, Mingyu hesitates, brown eyes scanning the two of you before he’s rolling them with a huff and walking away. You’re glued to the spot as Wonwoo’s sharp gaze falls on you, a frown painted across his lips. Without his glasses, there’s nothing shielding the piercing look in his eyes as he leans in closer towards you. There’s a flash of sadness crossing his features as he presses gently against you, his big hands finding purchase on the edge of Mingyu’s desk as he cages you between it.

“Mr. Jeon –”

“Wonwoo,” he corrects.

The deep rumble of his voice vibrates against your chest as he peers down at you, neck bent slightly as he lowers himself to level his gaze with yours.

“What’s going on?” You ask, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat as heat flares through your body.

Wonwoo’s frown deepens.

“Would it be so bad?” He asks, making you shoot him a confused look. You’re about to ask him what he means when he cuts you off. “Being my wife?”

Those damned butterflies flutter away in the pit of your stomach at his questions, your eyes widening in shock, and your lips part in surprise as you stare at the man in front of you. The close proximity of his body against yours has heat flaring through your veins as his warmth engulfs you, completely overtaking your senses as his hands move from the desk to slide along your arms.

“I – What..?”

Your spluttering doesn’t falter his movements once, his intense gaze boring into yours as his fingers glide along the expanse of your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“It’s a yes or no question, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning against your cheek as his hands reach up to gently grasp your face.

You can’t help but to relish in his touch, eyes closing as you melt into his warmth, and your breath catches in your throat as he brushes his nose against yours.

“Answer me, (Y/N).”

Letting your fingers grasp around his wrists, you fight to catch your breath as you manage to meet his gaze despite the overwhelming fluttering happening in the pit of your stomach.

“No,” you finally answer. “It wouldn’t.”

Wonwoo’s grip on your face tightens, his eyes darkening with desire, and his lip curls upwards as he looks at you.

“I could make you my wife,” he states, and you almost whine with want as his lips brush against yours with every word. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Mr. Jeon –”

“Wonwoo,” he growls, pulling you flush against him as his lips hover yours. “Call me anything but my name again and I’ll show you what happens to girls who don’t listen.”

A shaky breath escapes you at his words and you can’t fight back the shutter of anticipation as his lips ghost along the corner of yours.

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out, making him hum in response. “We can’t.”

“We can,” he reassures, and it takes everything in you to draw back from him.

“No,” you deny, even though every instinct in your body is screaming the opposite. “We can’t.”

Wonwoo clenches his jaw, lips pressed into a tight line, and he glowers at you as he shoots you a disapproving look.

“And why not?” He asks, gritting his teeth. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Well, for starters, you’re my boss,” you begin, trying to push away the heat pooling between your thighs as Wonwoo’s gaze pierces through yours. “That’s an HR violation that I don’t want to have attached to my name.”

“I can take care of that,” he counters. “Any violation towards you will be overruled.”

“That can be considered as nepotism,” you point out. “People are going to think I slept my way to the top.”

Anger flashes in his eyes.

“If anyone says anything negative towards you or about you I’ll have them blacklisted in all regions of this goddamn country,” he growls.

“Wonu.”

Cautiously you reach forward, your hands cupping his face as you try to settle the rage within him. His eyes are blazing into yours, a fire lit within the darkened irises, and he’s gripping your wrists like a lifeline.

“I mean it,” he affirms. “You’ve been with me for two years. Twenty-four months, (Y/N). You have shown nothing but loyalty towards me, and towards this company. You are the hardest working woman I’ve ever encountered, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Your heart swells at his words, a shaky breath escaping you as he presses you back against Mingyu’s desk.

“You have never been just my assistant,” he murmurs. “And you know it.”

There are a million sirens blaring in your brain, signaling for you to back off, to pull away and resist the urges. But with Wonwoo’s warm breath fanning against your cheek, his sharp nose gently brushing against yours, there’s no hesitation within you as you card your fingers through his hair and pull him towards you, your lips pressing firmly against his.

A groan of approval reverberates against your mouth as Wonwoo clutches your body against his, the tall stature of his frame enveloping yours as he bends you back against the desk. The heat emitting off of his body courses through your veins as his needy lips move against yours, his hands dropping to grip the back of your thighs as he lifts you up onto the desk. Your nails dig into the nape of his neck as his tongue runs along the seam of your lips, begging for you to part them as he wraps your legs around his hips. A moan escapes you as your lips part, allowing Wonwoo’s tongue to meet yours in a haste that leaves you breathless.

You’re drawing back from him, in what was supposed to be a brief moment to catch your breath, but he’s chasing your lips with no hesitation. Greedy hands are gliding along your thighs before he’s clutching them, blunt nails digging into the flesh as he marks them with his touch. The action draws a mewl from you, a desperate whine escaping your lips as you reciprocate the action by digging your nails into his back. Wonwoo growls against your mouth.

“Are you challenging me?” He asks, words muffled against your lips. You smirk in response.

“Maybe,” you tease coyly, making him draw back from you.

There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes and he’s pulling you even closer towards him until your clothed cunt is pressed against his hardening bulge. The hand that held your thigh starts to slither upwards, calloused fingers teasingly brushing against the hem of your lace panties as Wonwoo dips his head into the crook of your neck.

His tongue flattens against the juncture that’s between your shoulder and your neck before he’s grazing his teeth along your skin, your breath catching in your throat when you feel him run his fingers along your clothed core. He smirks against your skin when you mewl in response, your hips lifting off of the desk as an attempt to gain more friction. Wonwoo tuts under his breath, digits teasingly brushing against your panties.

“Needy girl,” he remarks, nipping playfully at your neck. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already soaked for me.”

You groan at his words, back arching as you try to press yourself flush against him.

“I’m always soaked for you,” you confess, and you nearly shiver at the flash of desire that sparks within his dark eyes.

“Yeah?” He asks, fingers now gripping the hem of your panties. “Have you been thinking about me, sweetheart?”

You can only moan in reply, hissing when the cool air of the office hits your bare pussy as Wonwoo slides your panties down your legs.

“Do you think about me being underneath your desk? About me being on my knees with my head between your thighs while I lick your cunt?”

Wonwoo’s words sends heat straight to your core, a whimper escaping you as he’s teasingly sliding his digits along your folds so he can coat them in your arousal. You could almost cry with the amount of tension between your thighs, your cunt begging to be touched as he levels his face with yours, dark eyes fueled with desire as they meet yours.

“Or do you think about me bending you over my desk and fucking you from behind?” You watch as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue licking your arousal clean off of them.

The lewd sight has you keening with want, your hands reaching out to grab his belt buckle as you blindly undo his pants. Wonwoo clenches his teeth before catching your wrist and pinning it next to you on the desk. The action causes you to smirk up at him, a feigned innocence playing on your features.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he grits, making the smirk on your face widen.

“Oh, I have every intent of finishing you.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to retort when the distant ‘ding’ of the elevator echoes in the hallway, your eyes widening in alarm, and you hastily push your boss away from you as you scramble to climb off of Mingyu’s desk. Standing back on your feet, you can’t even spare a glance toward the man who just had his tongue down your throat (and who is now shoving your forgotten panties in his pocket) as you straighten your skirt and power walk back to your desk, trying to ignore the aching that settled between your thighs.

“Are you going to tell us what the emergency meeting is for?”

Soonyoung and Joshua’s worried gazes make you want to shrink into the booth, the after effects of what you and Wonwoo had done in Mingyu’s office weighing on you like a dumbbell crushing your chest. You had fucked up and let your desire get the best of you instead of listening to the rational part of your brain — and it was eating you alive.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you guiltily look down at the menu on the table.

“Something happened between Wonwoo and I,” you muttered, shamefully.

Soonyoung and Joshua blink, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Isn’t… isn’t that what you wanted…?” Joshua asks, and you frown.

“Well, yes, but —“

“No but’s, (Y/N),” Soonyoung tuts. “Clearly you and Wonwoo have feelings for each other. Something was going to happen eventually.”

“Yes, eventually,” you clarify. “Not this soon! Especially not with me and him almost fucking on Mingyu’s desk.”

“WHAT?!”

The sudden outburst from the two of them echoes in the diner, earning dirty looks from the other customers as you palm your face in embarrassment. Your cheeks grow hot as shame washes over your body, a groan escaping your lips as you peek at your friends, both of which are staring at you with wide eyes and open mouths.

“It just happened, okay,” you defended yourself. “One minute I was telling him we can’t pursue anything and the next I’m on top of Mingyu’s desk with Wonwoo’s tongue down my throat.”

“Okay, first — ew,” Joshua grimaces. “I don’t need a visual.”

“That’s kinda hot, actually,” Soonyoung counters. “Fucking in the workplace? Nice.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, glaring at both of them. “This is a serious issue.”

Joshua purses his lips, his gaze scrutinizing.

“Not really,” he dismisses. “From everything you have told us, it sounds like he reciprocates your feelings, honey.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung agrees. “And I saw you two at the club the other day. Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not, both of you are down bad.”

You roll your eyes at Soonyoung’s words, scoffing as you take a sip of your water.

“And besides,” he continues. “He’s your friend —“

“He’s my boss,” you reiterate. “I’m his assistant, Soonyoung. That’s unprofessional.”

“It’s only unprofessional if you make it unprofessional,” Joshua states. “I’m sure if the two of you became official you’re not going to flaunt it at the office.”

“Even if they did, who cares?” Soonyoung shrugs. “Employee relationships happen all the time.”

“Yes, employee’s date each other. Not bosses and their assistants.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Joshua clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Have you ever watched ‘The Nanny’?”

“Seriously, Shua?” You rolled your eyes. “First off, that’s a TV show, meaning it’s fictional. Secondly — she was his nanny, not his assistant.”

“But the point still stands,” he continues. “The two of them fell in love regardless of their positions. And they didn’t care who found out or what would come of it.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right.

“HR is going to have a field day with this,” you muttered. “And I’m going to get fired.”

Soonyoung shrugs as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Who cares,” he dismisses. “You can’t help who you gain feelings for. And, besides, if you get fired Wonwoo can take care of you.”

“I don’t need someone to take care of me,” you snapped. “I want to keep my job.”

“And he’ll make sure you will,” Joshua reassured you, gently placing his hand on yours. “But you have to talk to him, (Y/N). He has feelings too.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat at his words, a heaviness weighing on your heart, before you’re reluctantly nodding.

“You’re right,” you concede. “I’ll talk to him.”

Settling back against the booth cushions, Joshua offers you a smile of encouragement before he’s picking his menu up from the table.

“Alright, now who’s hungry?”

You did not, in fact, talk to Wonwoo.

Instead, for the first time in the two years that you had been working for him, you called out sick.

You knew that Joshua and Soonyoung were right when they told you to talk to Wonwoo, to lay out all feelings and thoughts in order to understand what it was that was going on between the two of you. But the mere thought of being in a room with him after what had happened in Mingyu’s office and the thought of not being able to trust yourself around him was too much, that all of the pent up feelings and tension would end up causing both of you to snap and make a move that would ultimately change your dynamic forever – as if it hadn’t already.

You knew that if Mingyu hadn’t gotten back to the office at the time that he did, the situation between you and Wonwoo most definitely would have escalated into something more. You knew that Wonwoo had been seconds away from dropping to his knees and spreading your legs, licking and sucking until you were a writhing, crying mess on his friend’s desk. And that’s why you called out.

“What do you mean you’re not coming in?” Mingyu had asked, exasperatedly.

“I’m calling out,” you reiterated. “I don’t feel well.”

“I –” Mingyu paused, a heavy sigh following. “Why are you telling me and not Wonwoo?”

There had been a brief pause on your end, your throat tightening as your mind had flashed back to the events days prior.

“Gyu, please. Just tell him I’m not coming in today,” you begged. “I’m sorry.”

You should’ve caught the worried tone that had been in Mingyu’s voice. You should’ve known that he would’ve caught on to your pitiful lie, that he was going to run straight to the source itself to find out what the actual reason for your calling out was.

But most of all, you should’ve predicted that Wonwoo’s persistence and stubbornness would get to the better of him.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you wearily walk over to it and peer out of the peephole, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at the man who stood outside of it.

With his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, glasses perched on his nose, and a determined expression on his face stood Wonwoo. Those damned butterflies are fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach at the sight of your boss, your heart speeding up as you contemplate not answering the door – but you knew better than that. You knew that despite you calling out this morning that Wonwoo was going to want an explanation. That despite your best efforts to deflect from the situation just days before, he was going to want to discuss the matter at hand sooner rather than later.

Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself a moment to collect your composure before opening the door.

You stare dumbfoundedly at your boss, shock lit across your features as you stand in the doorway.

“How – how did you get my address?”

Wonwoo’s expression is stony, his gaze piercing yours through the thick rims of his glasses, and you catch the movement of his jaw clenching as he glares at you.

“You’re avoiding me.”

His tone is cold as he deflects your question and the harshness of his voice makes you wish the ground would open up from beneath you and swallow you whole, all the while suddenly painfully aware that you’re standing in front of your boss in nothing but your oversized sleep shirt.

“I – I’m not avoiding you,” you stuttered out. “I wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow into a menacing glare.

“You and I both know that that is a lie.”

Pushing past you, you watch open-mouthed as Wonwoo makes his way into your apartment, a bolt of panic rushing through you as you fumble to close the door behind you. His back is to you as he faces your living room and you watch as his hands slip out of his pockets, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides before he’s turning to look at you in the doorway.

“You called Mingyu,” he bites out, menacingly. “Instead of calling me, your boss, you called Mingyu.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, your feet shuffle nervously as your gaze drops to the ground.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, making Wonwoo scoff.

“Cut it out, (Y/N),” he spats. “You bother me more often than most of my other employee’s do.”

There’s a blow to your ego at his words as your head snaps up to look at him, hurt flaring in your eyes as you glared right back at your boss.

“Then why keep me around?” You ask, harshly. “If I’m such a fucking bother to you why not fire me?”

Wonwoo grits his teeth, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Because I cannot fathom the idea of my life without you in it!”

The sudden confession knocks the air out of your lungs, your lips parting in shock, and the butterflies multiply tenfold as Wonwoo stares at you with a gaze mixed with fury and desire. You’re frozen to the spot as Wonwoo steps closer, the intensity of his stare igniting your body on fire as the warmth of him envelops you.

“Whether it’s having you as my assistant or to just simply bask in your presence,” he begins, his voice lowering. “The thought of not seeing you even for a day makes me want to go crazy.”

Your back presses against the door as he leans in closer, one arm perched above you as he looms over you. Your breath is caught in your throat at the close proximity of him, the scent of his cologne filling your senses and clouding your judgment as he levels his face with yours.

“You’re all I think about, you’re all I dream about,” he continues, gaze softening as he presses closer to you. “You have infiltrated every part of my being since the moment you first walked into my office.”

A shaky breath escapes you as your heart soars at his words, and your hands ache to reach out and hold his face.

“Wonwoo…” You catch the flash of desire in his eyes as you mutter his name. “There is so much at stake for me if we pursue this. I could lose my job –”

“I will take care of you,” he cuts you off, matter-of-factly. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear but if it comes down to it, I will take care of the damage I’ve caused if it means I get to keep you in my life.”

Your gaze softens at his words.

You knew the stakes, you knew what was going to happen the moment you and Wonwoo solidified crossing the lines – you knew that your position as his assistant was over. Everything you achieved in the last two years had been for him, had been because of him. Wonwoo was your biggest supporter, whether he voiced it or not, and you hadn’t realized until recently that your admiration for his hard work and brilliant business mind had morphed into admiration for him – Jeon Wonwoo. Not the CEO you had worked for day in and day out. It was for the man who encouraged you to speak up in meetings despite your lack of status, the man who would go out of his way to bring you lunch, flowers, or gifts when he knew you were having a bad day. It was for the man who stood before you pouring his heart out despite the repercussions.

With shaky hands you’re reaching out to cup his face, your thumbs gently stroking his defined jaw as you peer up at him.

“I have grown to care for you, Jeon Wonwoo,” you murmur, and Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath as he presses flush against you, trapping you between his body and your front door. “In a way that assistant’s probably shouldn’t care for their bosses.”

A half-hearted laugh escapes him at that, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and you can’t help but to grin up at him. He’s still looming over you with one arm pressed against the doorframe, his other wrapping around your waist before he’s tilting his head down to yours. Warm lips encase themselves around yours and you can feel your heart beating against your ribcage as he kisses you slowly, passion pouring through him. You can feel your breath escape your lungs as you kiss him back, completely relishing in the taste and feel of him pressed against you as he kisses you earnestly.

Drawing back slightly, there’s a fleeting moment between the two of you as you stare into each other’s eyes, a silent acceptance of the lines between you becoming nonexistent, and it’s nothing short of a relief as you’re both pulled by an invisible force back to one another.

Your hands move to entangle themselves in his raven locks, fingers tugging at the roots as your lips fuse together in a frenzy. Wonwoo groans against your mouth as his arms move to wrap around your waist, his body flush against yours as your lips lock in fervor. As he tilts his head to the side, his tongue dips out from his lips to run along the seam of yours, which part almost instantly in response. A deep rumble reverberates from his chest as his tongue traces every nook and cranny of your mouth, almost as if he was memorizing every detail. Wonwoo’s hands move from your waist down to the hem of your sleep shirt before he’s teasingly gripping the hem of it and drawing back from your mouth.

Teeth graze over the skin of your neck as Wonwoo presses you back into the door, nimble fingers sliding underneath the hem of your shirt as he latches onto the pulse point on your neck. Your lips part in a wanton moan as he sucks a mark into your skin, his warm hand encasing around your bare breast. Arching your back into his touch, you’re keening in pleasure as Wonwoo pinches the sensitive bud between his thumb and pointer finger, a smirk dancing across his lips at your response. He’s grazing his nose against your neck before clutching your hips.

“Wanna taste you,” he breathes out, his breath fanning against your skin. “Wanna devour you until your legs are shaking.”

You can barely keep your vision focused on him as you watch him sink to his knees, his sharp gaze piercing into yours as his hands glide from your waist to your thighs, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk as you whimper in anticipation. Sneaking them underneath the hem of your shirt, he’s tugging at your panties before pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. You watch as your boss hitches one leg over his shoulder, his piercing gaze never leaving yours as he leans forward to run the tip of his tongue along your soaked folds.

A moan escapes your lips, your head tilting back and resting against the door, and your fingers tangle in his tresses as he hums appreciatively at your response. Blunt nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as Wonwoo completely sheaths his face between your legs, unabashedly licking at your cunt. Shameless moans are falling from your lips as Wonwoo licks without abandon, his nose pressing into your clit as he mouths and sucks at your core. Your nails are digging into his scalp, body arching off of the door as you relish in the feel of his tongue. Your body feels like it’s on fire as his hands glide underneath your shirt, warm hands encasing around your breasts before he’s squeezing them.

A deep growl resonates from him before his head is completely disappearing underneath your shirt, his mouth flush with your cunt as he grips your beasts, a harsh suck to your clit as he shakes his head from side to side, tongue gliding along your folds in a way that has you crying out into your apartment, his name falling like a mantra from your lips as your hands claw at his clothed back.

“Wonu, oh, fuck…!”

There's a sly smirk dancing across his lips as you feel him tilt his head, the tip of his tongue circling your clit until he’s flattening it, sucking it harshly into his mouth as he hums against you. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach at his ministrations, your chest heaving with pleasure until he’s reaching behind you to grip the flesh of your ass and pulling your cunt flush to his mouth.The pressure of his tongue flicking against your clit is enough to have you unraveling against him, a cry of his name escaping you as your body does exactly what he wanted it to.

Your thighs clamped around his head as he brought you to your release, your nails clawing at his clothed back as you lurch forward in pleasure. He’s lazily lapping at your folds, licking the remnants of your essence up as you tremble in ecstasy. The soft kitten licks at your core have you whimpering from the overstimulation before you can make out the muffled groan from underneath your shirt as Wonwoo draws back, his face shining with remnants of your arousal as he licks his lips. His hair sticks up slightly from being trapped between your legs, the glasses that were perched on his nose completely fogged up, and the sight of your boss’s disheveled appearance is so erotic it gives you enough incentive to fist your hands through his hair before pulling him up to you.

You taste your arousal on his tongue as his lips meet yours, your hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt before you’re undoing them and all but ripping the fabric off of him. A growl reverberates into your mouth as he grips your thighs and hauls you up, locking your legs around his waist.

“Where’s your room?” He asks, words muffled against your lips.

“Down the hall to the right.”

It’s a clash of tongues and teeth as he’s gripping you close to him, blindly navigating the two of you down the hall and kicking your bedroom door closed before he’s laying you on your bed. Your nails rake down the expanse of his broad back as he tugs your shirt up and over your head, throwing it carelessly as he revels in the sight of your naked body in front of him. His hungry gaze rakes along every bump and curve, his glasses slipping down his nose as he takes in the sight.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips before he’s leaning down to hover over your body.

“You’re fucking exquisite,” he breathes out, greedy hands plucking at your nipples as he sucks a mark into your chest. “Better than any dream I’ve ever had.”

Your breath hitches at his words, another pool of arousal flooding between your thighs as you arch into his touch.

“You’ve dreamt of me?” You ask breathlessly, and Wonwoo lifts his head from your chest to give you a look full of desire.

“Sweetheart, I’ve dreamt of you every night since the day you’ve stepped into my office.”

You mewl as his lips enclose around your pert nipple, his teeth clamping around the bud as he tugs harshly before encasing his mouth around the mound, your body arching off the bed as you cry out in pleasure. Wonwoo smirks against your breast, his hand kneading the other before he’s switching to enclose his mouth around the other. Gripping onto his broad shoulders, you’re rolling your hips against his clothed cock.

“Tell me,” you whimper, reaching a hand in between your bodies to pluck the button on his slacks. “Tell me about everything you’ve dreamt of.”

Wonwoo growls against your skin as you undo his slacks, his teeth gritting when he feels you slide your hand into his briefs and grab onto his growing cock. Grabbing onto your wrists, he’s pinning them above your head as he hovers over your body, a menacing look in his eyes.

“You want to know everything, sweetheart?” He asks, the term of endearment dripping from him like velvet and you mewl as you wriggle in his grasp. “You want me to tell you about how I've spent countless nights envisioning you underneath me, taking my cock every which way until there were tears streaming down your face?”

A shameless moan wracks from you as his hold on your wrists tightens, his eyes darkening in desire as he rolls his hips into yours.

“You want to know about all the thoughts I’ve had of you tied to my bedpost, red silk on your wrists and your body all mine to use?”

Wonwoo growls as his free hand slithers down your body, his fingers dipping to your cunt as he coats them in your arousal.

“Or about how I want to mark every single inch of you to show anyone who even dares to breathe in your direction that you’re mine.”

You mewl, your body writhing underneath him as you try to gain any kind of friction between you that you could. Smirking at your attempts, Wonwoo teasingly runs his digits along your folds, before he’s pushing two past them, not stopping until they’re buried to the knuckle. Your hips grind into his touch as his name falls from your lips, your hands trembling underneath his hold as he scissors the two digits against your velvety walls.

A coo falls from him as he relishes in the sight of your pleasure-filled expression, his lips twisting into a feline-like smirk as he slips a third finger inside, his thumb pressing against your clit as he flicks his wrist, the digits delving deeper inside of you as he thumbs against your sensitive bud.

“But the thought I’ve had that’s haunted me since day one,” the smirk never falters from his face as he peers down at you with desire. “Is the thought of you soaking every inch of my bed as I make you cum over and over again. And, while, this isn’t my bed – it’ll do for now.”

Your mouth opens in a soundless scream, your back arching off the bed as Wonwoo slips a fourth finger inside of you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit before he’s pressing down onto the bundle of nerves. Pleasure shoots up your body as you claw at the one that was pinning yours to the bed, nails digging into the back of his hand as he curls the digits inside of you. They’re brushing against a spot that has your thighs clenching around his wrist, a sadistic grin dancing across your boss’s lips as he watches you writhe under his ministrations.

“Wonwoo, please,” you beg, sobbing with pleasure. “Please – oh fuck, let me cum, please.”

Your voice is broken, muddled into cries of desire as he palms your clit, and he’s leaning down to lick a stripe down the valley of your breasts. His eyes are completely locked on your pleasure ridden face as he litters marks along your body, teeth sinking into any visible part of your flesh he can reach.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coos, smirking deviously. “Give it to me.”

The heel of his palm is ruthless against your clit and your body is folding in half as your thighs clamped around his wrist, a shriek of his name reverberating off of the walls as his fingers curl against the spot that sends your body into overdrive. There’s a tightening in your lower body that sends a flash of heat through you, your eyes clamping shut as you cum – hard.

Wonwoo growls at the sight before him, his desire filled eyes taking in the sight of your arousal dripping down your thighs and soaking your sheets, and he’s speeding up his ministrations on your clit. His sharp gaze is locked on your pulsating cunt while your body reels into overstimulation, cries of pleasure ripping from your throat as your cunt leaks shamelessly. Your back is completely arched off of the bed, fluids leaking from your core, and you’re almost crying out of relief when Wonwoo slips his fingers out of you and loosens his grip on your hands – only for you to grip his hair when he latches his mouth onto your overstimulated cunt.

He’s licking with no abandon, lewdly slurping every last drop of your release as you sob with pleasure. His arms are tucked underneath your thighs as he pulls you until you’re completely sheathed against his mouth. The overstimulation has you writhing against him, and you’re mustering up enough strength to push his head away as you let your body come down from the intense release.

Wonwoo chuckles as he watches you sink into the sheets, cooing at you as exhaustion washes over your pleasure ridden body. Soft kisses are littered along the inners of your thighs, and Wonwoo peers up at you through his eyelashes as you tiredly lift your head from the bed.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised, softly nipping at the flesh of your thigh. “My good girl.”

Despite the intense orgasm you had just experienced, your cunt pulsates with desire at his praise. Biting the inside of your lip, you’re whining softly as you tug at his hair, ushering him up to you. Wonwoo lets a wild grin grace his lips as he allows you to pull him up, his lips slotting against yours lazily as he cages you between his body and the bed. Shaky hands make their way down the expanse of his chest and Wonwoo gasps against your lips when you tug his slacks down, a foot sliding between his legs so that you can push them off of him.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbles, trying to break away from your lips only to have you grab the back of his head to keep him still. “What are you doing?”

A mischievous glint is in your eyes as you shoot Wonwoo a filthy smirk, your hands clutching at his biceps before you’re mustering enough strength to roll the two of you over and pinning him to the bed. Your lips trail from his down to his jaw, teeth grazing over the sharp definition as your hips settle over his. Your hands are trapping his wrists and pressing them into the mattress as you trail your tongue over his neck. Wonwoo growls underneath you, his sharp eyes glaring at you through the thick rims of his glasses.

“I can’t be the only one having fun,” you coo, teasingly against his skin.

Wonwoo grits his teeth as yours graze over his skin, a hiss falling from him when he feels you suck a mark into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me,” he bites out, wrists breaking free from your weakened hold. You ‘tsk’ at him, breaking away from his neck to frown.

“It’s my job to take care of you,” you affirm, shooting him a pointed look, and you can only bite back a smirk when Wonwoo’s lips curl into a snarl. “Let me take care of you, Mr. Jeon.”

A near pornographic groan escapes your boss’s lips at your words and you can’t help but to grin with satisfaction, your lips trailing from his neck to the expanse of his chest. You keen with satisfaction as Wonwoo’s fingers tangle in the tresses of your hair while you litter marks down his chest, peering up at him through your eyelashes as you reach the hem of his briefs. A salacious smirk paints your lips as you tug at them, discarding the garment without care as your tongue trails along the patch of hair leading to his bulging cock.

Your gaze never breaks from his as you situate yourself between his toned thighs, your hand wrapping around him as your lips part to lick at the beads of precum dripping from his tip. The grip he has on your hair tightens as you coat his head with it, a soft hum escaping you before you’re descending onto his cock. Wonwoo tenses, the sharp tug on your tresses making you whine against his cock, and he groans in ecstasy as your tongue lolls around him. He’s gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he struggles to keep his eyes open to peer down at you, completely mesmerized by the sight of you in between his legs. Inhaling through your nose, you suck in a breath of air before taking him in until his tip brushes the back of your throat, your hand reaching to cup his balls.

“(Y/N)...”

Wonwoo’s growl only encourages you further as you slide completely off of him, a smirk on your lips before you descend once more until he’s sheathed back into the warm cavern of your mouth. He’s tugging harshly at your tresses, hips pistoning off of the bed, as he shamelessly thrusts into your mouth. The grip you hold on his balls tightens gently, making expletives fall from the man as you swallow around him. The deep timbre of his voice combined with the harshness of his thrusts and tugs on your hair has your core dripping with anticipation, your body screaming for him to be inside of every part of you.

Wonwoo’s eyes are hooded, gaze full of desire, and he’s watching you bob your head on his cock, swallowing around his girth and knowing that if he let you keep going he wasn’t going to last much longer. So with your hair in his hands, he’s tugging you off of him with a snarl, his grip moving to latch onto your hips as he all but throws you on your back. Your eyes widened at the sudden change of position but then you’re keening in delight as the tip of his cock prods at your dripping cunt, your hands reaching up to claw at his broad back.

“I’m not cumming until I’ve felt your cunt around me first.”

The bite of his words sends another wave of heat flowing through you, your body completely lighting on fire as he guides himself to push past your folds, your lips parting in pleasure as your cunt swallows the thick girth of him. Your nails are clawing at his broad shoulders as Wonwoo’s teeth grit together, his nose brushing against yours as he slides in until he’s completely sheathed to the hilt.

“God, take me,” you moan, wantonly – shamelessly. “Make me yours.”

A cocky smirk dances across your boss’s lips as he draws his hips back, sharp eyes drinking in your naked form as he coos at the sight.

“You want to be mine, sweetheart?” He asks, teasingly. His lips ghost over yours as he moves to grip your wrists in his hands, effectively pinning them above your head. “You think you deserve it?”

A defiant look crosses your features as you peered up at him, a deep frown on your lips as you dig your nails into his skin in retaliation.

“I’m the only one who deserves it.”

Wonwoo’s gaze bores into yours, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk before his hips slam into yours, your back arching at the contact and your nails digging into his wrists as he all but hammers into you.

“Wonwoo – oh, fuck – !”

He’s mouthing hotly at your bouncing breasts before his teeth clamp around your nipple, tweaking the bud with his tongue as his hips pistoned into yours. Cries of his name fall from your lips as he thrusts relentlessly, sharp eyes peeking over the mounds of your breasts as your body stays arched in pleasure. He’s relishing in the sight, a smirk of satisfaction playing at his lips as he licks his way up your neck, lips hotly pressing into yours as his tongue delves into your mouth.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your lips, teeth biting onto the flesh as he tugs. “Mine.”

He briefly lets go of your wrists only so that he can grip your thigh with one hand, the other keeping your hands pinned above your head. He’s positioning your leg over his shoulder, his body descending onto yours as he rolls his hips, a groan escaping him as your cunt clenches deliciously around him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, completely lost in the intense pleasure of him as he grips onto your calf. Blunt nails dig into your skin as he speeds up once more, teeth gritting with pleasure as he sucks a mark into the sensitive spot on your neck. Your hips rise from the bed as you try to match his movements, a cry of his name falling from you when the head of his cock brushes against a spot that has you seeing stars.

“Right there!” You cry, clenching mercilessly around him. “God, Wonwoo, don’t stop!”

His grip on your leg loosens as he reaches down to press the pad of his thumb against your clit, a sinister smirk painted on his lips as he looks down at you.

“How’s it feel, sweetheart?” He asks, hips speeding up as he thumbs harshly at the sensitive bud. “Knowing that I’m all yours? That I’m only yours.”

You’re writhing beneath him, thrashing under his body in pleasure as his ministrations on your clit grow more erratic. Your vision is blurred with tears of ecstasy, Wonwoo’s name falling from your lips like a broken mantra, and you can only grip his hand as the heat in the pit of your stomach grows with every thrust.

“S- so good,” you stuttered out, completely lost in the feeling of him. “You’re mine, baby. Only mine.”

The term of endearment earns you a growl of approval, Wonwoo prying your lips apart with his mouth as his tongue licks along yours.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep, the timbre laced with husk as he licks into your mouth. “My cock is all yours, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You keen at his words, a whine falling from your lips as your thighs quiver with pleasure.

“All mine,” you affirm, moaning. Wonwoo smirks against your mouth, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he thumbs at your clit with vigor.

“And this is all for me, isn’t it?” His question is spoken into your mouth, tongue sweeping over yours as his hips slam into yours.

“Only you, baby,” you whine, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. “I’m yours.”

Wonwoo growls at that, his lips curling into a feline-like smirk as he lets go of your hands – only to grab you by the throat as he lifts you up until your chest is pressed flush against his. Your lips part in surprise at the change of position, one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders as the other fists through his locks, your cunt clenching around him as the new angle drives him to be completely sheathed inside of you as he sits back on his legs to hold you up.

“Damn right, you’re mine.”

Wonwoo’s words are muffled against your lips, the man looking down at you with a fierce glint as his thumb presses to your throat, effectively cutting off the air to your lungs and making your breath hitch. You clutch desperately at his tresses, your nails clawing at the skin of his back as he drills his cock inside of you, his free hand reaching back in between your bodies to rub your sensitive clit as he urges you to cum.

Your lips are parted in a silent cry, the stimulation between his thumb and his cock driving you closer and closer to the edge as your thighs clench around his hips, your back arching in a way that has your chest pressing into his, and the lack of air in your lungs has your head reeling in ecstasy as your high washes over you in a violent wave. You’re trembling beneath his ministrations, your cunt clenching deliciously around Wonwoo’s length as he coos at you, his thumb releasing off of your throat as you gasp.

“Mm, my good girl,” he praises, hands clutching your hips. “Where do you want me?”

The relentless drills of his hips against yours has you fighting to catch your breath as you struggle to answer him. Wonwoo’s rhythm grows erratic as he nears closer, your body arching into his movements as you clutch his shoulders in order to stay upright.

“My – my mouth,” you manage to breathe out, making Wonwoo smirk in anticipation.

You almost regret answering him when you feel him pulling out of you, the brisk air hitting your now empty cunt as Wonwoo settles you on your knees. His hand encases around your head as he pushes past your parted lips, groaning when his cock hits your tongue. You mewl around him, jaw slack and eyes locked on his as your tongue laps lazily at his leaking tip, swallowing every last drop of his release. His fingers tangle in your hair as he thrusts harshly into your mouth, the head of his cock brushing against the back of your throat as he cums. A hum of delight escapes you as you lewdly lap up the remnants of his release, your name falling from his lips as he tilts his head back in ecstasy.

His glasses slid off the bridge of his nose from the beads of sweat that had collected there and landed carelessly next to you on the bed, his sharp eyes softening into a look that was nothing short of adoration. His fingers release their grip on your tresses as his hands cup your face, his cock sliding out of your mouth as he lifts you to slot his lips against yours.

Humming against your mouth, Wonwoo’s thumbs graze your cheeks as he draws back to look into your eyes.

“You did so well for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you relish in his touch, your body completely spent from the intensity you had just experienced, and your eyes hood over in exhaustion as Wonwoo gingerly lays you back against the pillows. The warmth of his body envelops yours as he holds you close to him. A half-hearted smile paints itself on your lips as you reach up to trace the outline of his lips, a hint of sadness ghosting over your expression.

“You realize this means I can’t work for you anymore, right?”

Your soft murmur makes Wonwoo frown, and you almost whimper with hurt at the crestfallen look on his face.

“I know,” he answers quietly, offering you a small smile. “But that doesn’t mean I’m losing you.”

Wonwoo turns his head to meet your softening expression, his gaze boring into yours as he clutches you to him.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he continues, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I will take care of you, (Y/N). I will fix any damage I’ve done to your career, to your reputation – just as long as I get to keep you in my life… If you even want me after all of this.”

“How could I not want you?” You asked, quietly. “You are everything and more to me, Wonwoo. It just took me a couple years to realize it.”

Wonwoo chuckles at that before leaning down to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Even if I cost you your job?”

You purse your lips at that, pretending to think before looking up at him in amusement.

“I can think of some ways you could make it up to me,” you teased, making Wonwoo growl playfully. “Starting with a bath – hey!”

Wordlessly you’re being lifted in his arms, a shriek of surprise escaping you as Wonwoo tosses you over his shoulder, effortlessly carrying you into your adjoining bathroom.

“That can be arranged.”

[15 new messages]

From: Soonyoung Hey honey! Just a heads up… Wonwoo asked for your address. Don’t know why or what for but I gave it to him so expect a visit from him soon… ... But I’m gonna assume it’s for what I think it is… … so you’re welcome ;)

From: Joshua Soonyoung just told me Wonwoo is going to your house USE PROTECTION!!! I'M NOT READY TO BE AN UNCLE ;_;

From: Gyu Wonwoo is missing He left the office hours ago and hasn’t come back (Y/N)???? Hello???? This is a serious matter!!!! Where are you??!?!?!?? Are you seriously going to ignore me? Just because you called out sick doesn’t mean you can ignore ~me~ your friend!!!!

To: Gyu She’s busy

From: Gyu I – OH??? MY GOD???????? IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME YOU TWO!!!! Also – ew Don’t ever send me a picture like that ever again

Epilogue

“How are the reports looking, Mrs. Jeon?”

Lifting your head from the pile of papers lining the table, your gaze falls on your boss as he walks inside the conference room, a warm smile on his face. Offering him an encouraging one back, you gesture towards the pile in front of you as you lean back against your chair.

“Everything we’ve discussed is in order and ready to go for the presentation.”

Your boss grins, dimples indenting in his cheeks.

“I knew I could count on you.”

The conference room door opens behind your boss, your eyes darting to the tall stature who was now leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest as his sharp gaze falls on you.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

No matter how many times he calls you that or how much time passes by with you waking up to him every morning, your husband’s voice never fails to send an array of butterflies abuzz in your stomach. You can’t help but to let a salacious smile grace your lips as you bat your eyes at Wonwoo.

“Mr. Jeon,” you greet, flirtily. “Looking mighty handsome as always.”

Wonwoo clears his throat, his eyes narrowing into a playful glare as he gestures towards your boss.

“You’re lucky Seungcheol is here,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Otherwise I’d have you over this desk –”

“Hey, hey!” Seungcheol cuts off your husband, waving an accusing finger at him. “No flirting with my assistant during work hours!”

Wonwoo holds his hands up in defense as he backs up from Seungcheol, a wide grin on his lips as he bows apologetically.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles. “I’ll behave.”

His words promise good behavior, but the smirk on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes say another as he sits across from you at the table, his heated gaze never leaving yours. From beside him, the younger man who had taken a seat next to him had a grin on his face as he peered over at his boss, eyes looking back and forth between you and Wonwoo.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Jeon,” he greets, making you beam at him.

“It’s good to see you too, Chan,” you grinned. “I hope my husband hasn’t been running you ragged like he had done with me.”

Chan laughs softly, eyes twinkling with humor as he shakes his head.

“Nothing I’m not already used to.”

It had been two years since you had left Wonwoo’s office and became Seungcheol’s assistant.

In hindsight, Joshua had been right about how casual and common it was for a CEO to have some kind of relation with their assistant.

Despite your acceptance of the notion that you could lose your job for pursuing a relationship that exceeded company policy, HR hadn’t batted an eye when you and Wonwoo had confronted them. They simply brushed it off, insisting that it wasn’t uncommon for such a thing to happen between two people who were constantly in such close quarters with one another. And though you would have loved to continue working with your boss - now husband - it was in your best judgment to resign as his assistant and to look elsewhere.

You loved the job, you really did. But continuing to work for the man who you slept next to every night didn’t sit right with you – especially when you knew how fussy other co-workers were when it came to workplace relationships. So rather than wanting to deal with whispers of gossip behind your back, you had taken Seungcheol’s offer in becoming his assistant instead – much to your husband’s dismay.

“If you so much as even look at her in any way that’s not professional or business-like, I’ll ruin your career faster than you can blink.”

Seungcheol gulps, nodding furiously to the taller man who was currently holding him by the collar.

“Noted.”

Seungcheol claps his hands together, breaking your intense eye contact with your husband as you reluctantly look towards your boss.

“Alright,” he beams, looking at the occupants at the table. “Let's get this ball rolling.”

You have always prided yourself on your stellar work ethic. You always paid attention during meetings, took notes when it was needed, and made mental notes of things that could be bookmarked and used for later projects. But that sufficient work ethic always flew right out the window when it involved the man sitting across from you.

You’re peering at your husband from the corner of your eye, biting back a laugh as you smirk slightly. Adjusting your posture, you’re leaning back against the chair while you stretch your legs out underneath the table, discarding one of your heels as you let your foot graze against Wonwoo’s calf. You press your lips together in a line to fight back a grin, stifling a giggle at the desire that was now pooling in the darkened eyes of your husband as he subtly reaches down to grab your leg.

“Stop it,” he mouths, making you feign a look of innocence.

“I’m not doing anything,” you mouthed back, making Wonwoo’s sharp eyes narrow into a glare.

He’s trapping your leg between his toned thighs, a move which he almost instantly regretted as you flexed your foot to press against the hardening bulge in his slacks, the CEO sucking in a breath as he all but clutches your ankle in retaliation. Blunt nails dig into your skin as he sends you a look of warning only to grit his teeth in annoyance as you peered away from him with a smile, keeping your focus on Seungcheol as he spoke.

Wonwoo’s heated gaze stays locked on you throughout the meeting, sharp eyes glaring from behind his thick rimmed glasses as he shifts uncomfortably for the next hour. And once Seungcheol had declared a brief break, he’s pushing your leg away from him and stomping out of the conference room. Chan’s eyes widened in alarm at his boss’s abrupt exit, the assistant beginning to stand before you’re holding your hand up, halting him from following after your husband.

“I’ve got him, Chan,” you reassured the man, smiling brightly. “You know he gets in those moods sometimes.”

Not waiting for a reply, you’re stifling a laugh as you walk out of the room, gaze scanning over the office before you’re heading towards the elevator. But before you can even make it halfway, you’re being pulled into a doorway, your back pressed up against a wall as Wonwoo glares down at you, his body towering over yours.

An amused glint is in your eyes as you grinned up at your husband.

“You really pulled me into a supply closet?” You asked, and Wonwoo reached to grab your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“You have a lot of nerve, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Getting me hard while I’m trying to focus on the meeting.”

You feign a look of innocence as you reach for his belt buckle, pulling him in until he’s pressed flush against you.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you drawl, flirtily. Wonwoo smirks as he drops his hands from your face, opting to grip your thighs instead as he lifts you up and presses you back into the wall.

“Such a naughty girl,” he tsk’s, rolling his hips into yours as you tighten your legs around him.

“You love it,” you tease, nipping playfully at his bottom lip. Wonwoo’s gaze softens momentarily, his face lighting up as he adoringly stares at you.

“I love you,” he corrects.

Leaning forward he’s connecting your lips, kissing you slowly as he pours his emotions into it — into you. You hum against his mouth, your hands reaching up to run through his hair as you kiss him back. His tongue slips between the seam of your lips before meeting yours, his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he licks into your mouth.

“We have to get back,” you murmur, making Wonwoo groan, your husband squeezing your ass playfully as he rocks against you.

“I’ll come up with an excuse,” he mutters and you chuckle against his mouth before pulling away.

“This is an important meeting, baby,” you retort, making Wonwoo — big bad CEO, Jeon Wonwoo — form the most adorable pout as he looks down at you with an expression akin to a kicked puppy.

“But I only want to be around you.”

Giggling quietly, you reach up to cup his face as you kiss him softly, nuzzling your nose against his.

“If you can make it through the next two hours, I’ll fuck you in the back of the limo on the way home.”

Wonwoo laughs at your words, his head tilting back happily before he kisses you with a smile.

“First off, it’s going to be me fucking you,” he points out, letting you place your feet back down on the floor. “Which I was planning on doing after the meeting anyways.”

You grin at him, laughing happily as you readjust your clothing.

“Great minds think alike, I guess,” you jest, and Wonwoo mirrors your grin as he leads you out of the supply closet.

With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he’s leaning down to press a kiss against your temple, lips brushing your ear.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, making your heart soar in happiness as you beamed in delight.

“I love you too, Wonwoo.”

#seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader

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widowbitessting · 6 months

Text

Baby It's Hot Outside - A Sugar Mommies Drabble

Word Count: 1729

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Summary: The One Where MJ cares for you.

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

You can’t open the door to your own apartment. It’s your first sign that the headache you’ve had for the past hour might be transforming into a migraine. And it sucks. Pain resonates behind your eyeballs and you have to squint to see where the stupid moving lock is so you can get inside.

Has it always been so low down? Surely not.

The key finally does its job and you’re allowed inside your own apartment, near collapsing on the floor as you go.

Definitely too hot today. Seriously too hot.

It’s your own fault really; your classmate in all her wisdom kept offering you caffeine and you, in all of your wisdom, kept accepting.

So now you're coming down from the copious amount of caffeine, mix that with the grand total of 0 litres of water you’ve had as well as the sheer heat of the day, and it’s no wonder you feel like your head is going to explode.

Mistakes have definitely been made.

You somehow manage to get to your sofa, falling onto the not so soft cushions face first. The sudden dark does a lot to sooth your eyes and you don’t know how long you stay like that, only shifting slightly to breathe, until MJ nb udges your leg with her foot.

“Two people live here, y’know. Move over.”

You don’t even try to form a coherent reply, moving your heavy body like she asks, wrapping yourself up into a ball. The shiver that wrecks through your body trembles the entire sofa and MJ doesn’t seem to notice. She clicks on Netflix and settles with her hot chocolate, completely unaware of your dying state beside her.

She glances your way when your phone rings, looking at the picture of Wanda as it flashes up on your cell. You don’t even move, eyes squinting shut against the dim light of the living room. For you, they feel like spotlights.

You shift uncomfortably on the sofa.

Your phone pings a minute later; a text from Wanda, asking you to call her ASAP, she’s having an icecream emergency - aka: she wants ice cream but Natasha and Carol won’t allow her.

You know she’s messaged in your group chat because your phone begins to after every few seconds.

Why didn’t you mute your phone? Why?

It doesn’t take long for MJ to let out a frustrated sigh and kick her feet so they’re under her. Her toes tickle your right foot, making you jerk and when you still don’t make a move to check your phone, MJ does it again.

“Dude, answer them or I’m throwing your cell out of the window.”

It takes all of your energy to move, and even then, you misjudge the end of the sofa and almost faceplant the floor.

With trembling arms, you struggle to hold your upper body weight and here is where MJ finally takes pity on you.

“This is painful, move.”

She snatches your phone for you and goes to pass it when she finally registers your appearance.

“Woah…you’re not about to die on me are you? I’d have three pissed off women on my case if you do.”

You shudder. MJ throws your phone aside and lifts you up by your armpits, settling you back on your original position on the sofa.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You can only shake your head.

“I know this isn’t the time to notice this but that medicated deodorant you’re using really works, you’re bone dry!” MJ lets out a nervous chuckle. “Laugh, Y/N/N. You always laugh at my crappy jokes…even if they are pitiful…get it?”

You don’t even smile as a response and MJ jumps to her feet.

“Oh my god, you are dying!”

“...not…dying…sick…”

“You are sick, you feel sick or you’re going to be sick?”

“...all of the above.”

MJ falls over herself as she sprints into the kitchen. She returns with the anointed “puke bucket” which is a mixing bowl you had ended up using one time after too many shots. No sooner does she place it near your face, do you start to heave, body jerking gags where you think your stomach is going to come up out of your throat.

She touches your forehead.

“You’re burning up. Have you eaten something bad? Drank too much?”

“...not…” You spit out a wad of saliva. “...enough.”

“You haven’t eaten enough?” Something in MJ’s brain clicks. “Please tell me you’ve been drinking water today, Y/N. Please.”

You shake your head.

“I’d hit you if you weren’t so fragile. You’ve not drunk anything? Dude! It’s one of the hottest days of the year!”

“I had…coffee and stuff…”

You grimace and turn away from the bowl.

“You are actually going to die. They’re going to murder you, you know that? And then turn on me because I’m an unknowing accomplice. You’ve only had coffee all day? Y/N!”

“Don’t tell them.”

“How can I not? They’re bound to ask where you are! And what if they make a surprise trip to see you? You’re not exactly in a fit shape to fuck right now, are you, Y/N/.”

“MJ -”

“Fine. If they don’t ask I won’t tell them. Deal?”

“Okay, deal.”

“Right, you - don’t move. Don’t die. I’ll get you some water and a fan. Or something.”

MJ gets your water first, filling it with ice before rethinking and dumping it down the sink; before stopping again and getting slightly less ice for your glass.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Now with a full drink, and a straw because why not, MJ places it in front of you with the strict instruction to “Sip it, don’t inhale it.”

She takes your phone when your head is in the sick bowl and vanishes into her bedroom; unlocking it with your passcode and finding the group chat with your girlfriends.

“Who’s the least terrifying? Natasha, no chance. Carol, maybe…Wanda…you’ll have to do.”

She picks up on the third ring.

“Hi baby!”

“Hey to you too.”

“…MJ?”

“Hi, the one and only.”

“Where’s Y/N? Not that I don’t appreciate talking to you but I’d much prefer to talk to my girlfriend.”

“She’s not…well. I told her I wouldn’t tell you but I’m genuinely worried about her.”

“What’s going on?” Natasha’s voice cuts through your phone speaker and MJ wants nothing more than to throw your phone away and hide under the nearest bed.

“Michelle Jones, talk.”

“I hate it when you do that.” MJ grumbles. “Y/N’s sick.”

“Sick, how?”

“God, she’s gonna kill me…erm,” MJ pinches the bridge of her nose. “She didn’t drink any water and I’m 90% sure she spent most of her day outside and it’s been super hot and she’s not well and I’m worried about her…I don’t know what to do.”

Natasha is silent for a moment.

“Stay with her. We’ll be there as soon as possible, understood? Let her sip, not inhale, at cool water. Not ice cold, it'll shock her system. Is she hot to the touch?”

“She’s hot, yeah. And not in her usual way either.”

“Get a damp cloth, that’ll help cool her off.” Natasha orders. “And MJ? Thank you for telling us.”

“Any…anytime I guess. Not that I want Y/N to get heat stroke or whatever it is again, ‘cos it’s scary and stuff but if she ever misbehaves again, you bet your ass I’ll be right on this phone to rat her out. I’ll even spank her for you if you can't get her fast enough.”

“MJ, breathe girl. Get some oxygen into those lungs. We’ll discuss this at a later date when you aren’t so frazzled. We’ll be there soon, okay? 30 minutes, max.”

“Okay, yeah, okay. Bye.”

“Damp cloth and cool water, MJ.”

“On it.”

MJ’s hands tremble when she returns to you with the items; a regular glass of water in one hand and a semi filled bowl with a wet cloth in the other. She takes the iced water from you and replaces it; ordering you to sip it slowly while she pats your head with the washcloth.

You do little to fight her.

“I’m not well, MJ.”

“I know, Y/N/N, I know. But you’re gonna get better soon, yeah? Just try to relax as much as you can. Google says you should start to feel better in 30 minutes or so.”

She places the washcloth on the back of your neck.

It takes you 23 minutes to feel slightly more human.

It takes 24 minutes for the Trio! to get to your apartment.

You can only stare as they walk inside, eyes locking onto your slouched form on the sofa with a straw between your lips.

You know you’re in for it when you’re better and you nervously swallow, offering them a sheepish smile.

“...hi…”

Wanda stares at your fragile state, a mixture of emotions clouding her eyes, from guilt to a slight twinge of insecurity. She wants to wrap you up and promise to be a better dom; for herself but most importantly for you.

Carol makes a beeline straight for you and starts fussing over you. She caresses your cheek and feels your forehead, frowning slightly, before reaching over for the washcloth. As she dabs at your face, wiping away the tears that tumble from your eyes, Natasha, with Wanda beside her, moves closer and places a gentle kiss on your damp temple.

“Hey there, little kotenok, how are we feeling, hmm?”

They’re there. Your trio. There to finally care for you and you instantly feel safe. Comforted by their presence and you reach out, grabbing the nearest body to drag them down on top of you. Wanda’s scent fills your nose and you nestle into her neck.

“Am I in trouble?” you whisper and you can feel her grinning.

“Oh yes,” she replies, “but not right now. Tomorrow maybe. But for now, rest sweet girl. We’re here.”

You can only nod as Carol gently moves Wanda so she can scoop you up into her arms.

As you’re carried away to your bedroom, you can see Natasha speaking quietly to MJ; and make the mental note to ask her what was said. But for now, you allow yourself to be carried away. Not even five minutes later, nestled against Wanda, you doze off with a smile.

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #carol danvers #reader insert #sugar mommies #spiderbites #sugar mommies!asks #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #smu #sugar mommies drabbles #sugar mommies drabble

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mojogojocasahouse · 8 months

Text

Home With You

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: After a long mission away, Satoru returns home forgetting he doesn’t have to face the darkness alone.

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: E

Content: hurt comfort, Gojo has a headache and his past trauma is rearing its head, established relationship, smut (p-in-v sex, Gojo’s filthy mouth, multiple orgasms for both parties, it’s so desperate, I don’t know it’s Gojo, man has nasty sex. Enjoy)

It’s not dark enough tonight. He could still see too far in front of him, even through the curtain of rain pouring down from the skies. But that was the thing. He could see everything, all the fucking time.

He’d taken the long way home from Jujutsu High where he’d spent the night arguing with the higher-ups once again, rage and murderous intent boiling beneath his skin. They were going to tear down the Jujutsu world, there was no debating it, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it either. Besides killing them all, a task he was more than capable of.

The radio is humming in the background but he isn’t listening, not to that. He’s too busy focusing on the steady pattering of the downpour on the roof of the car, cursing the street lamp to the right as it blinds him even through the black fabric he’s wearing over his eyes. His head is throbbing, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, jaw tense—he could do it so quickly they wouldn’t feel a thing. It was almost a mercy. Curses would tear them apart, as would any of the enemies that seemed to be racking up faster than he could keep count, but Satoru Gojo could end them painlessly…

Knock knock knock

The tapping is gentle, his head lolling to find a sight he was both craving and avoiding distorted by the droplets rolling down the glass.

“Baby?” Your voice was so sweet even muffled through the window and the rain. “What are you doing? You’ve been out here for twenty minutes.”

Had it been that long? News to him. Actually, it felt like an eternity now that he thought about it. It had been three weeks since he’d been home, the one mission that was supposed to be three days turned into four that had kept him away from home far longer than he’d been intending to. He’d finally put his foot down just this morning—hence the verbal lashing he’d taken for “abandoning his duties when they needed him most”—telling those good-for-nothing pieces of shit that he was going the fuck home whether they liked it or not.

But now that he was home, he was hiding.

“Come inside,” you urge again, and my God he wants nothing more than to just collapse into your arms, “Dinner is almost done.”

He’s not fucking hungry. Not for food, anyway.

“I got your kikufuku,” you tack on, and it should make him happy. But it doesn’t.

It makes him fucking hate himself.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and he can hear the tremor in your voice, or maybe you’re shivering. His selfish, self-loathing ass is making you stand in the pouring rain while you try and coax him out of his car.

Emotion is still foreign to him. Well, not entirely, but you'd come at a time he'd sworn attachment off, he'd meander the world surrounded by people but always alone. It was easier that way, he'd thought. He hadn’t wanted to allow this, but he’d never stood a chance. Not after you kissed him for the first time outside the ice cream place, or when you listened to him tell a story about curses and infinity that would have sent anyone with sense running for the hills and never looking back. And you’d shrugged. Shrugged.

“You’re still just Toru to me,” you’d said, and at that moment everything and nothing at all made sense.

And still to this day years later, as he steps out of the car and threads his fingers with yours, hunching down to squeeze beneath your clear umbrella, everything and nothing at all makes sense.

The house smells like curry, your music still playing in the kitchen, and the bag of the sweet treats you’d traveled to get just for him sat on the dining table with a new set of sunglasses. He’d broken his favorite ones before the trip, and as he stares at the oblong lenses and golden frames he realizes he'd never told you he’d sat on them, snapping them right in two. You must have just known when he’d opted to wear his older circular ones. Or maybe you found the broken pair in the pocket of his pants when you did the wash. Either way, the gesture makes him squeeze your hand a little tighter as his teeth gnash together. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Oh,” he finally grunts, pulling a small box from the top of his travel bag, “This is for you.”

He’d found it in one of the towns he’d been cursed to investigate, the tiny pendant you were admiring with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Do you like it?” He can see the answer plain as day on your face, but he still feels the need to ask. He needs the god damn reassurance, the ego stroke. He needs to know that he matters for more than the curses bestowed on him at birth.

“Can you put it on me?” you ask with a grin, turning after setting the box in his palm.

The clasp is too small for his fingers to work properly, but he gets it done, laying the pink-jeweled charm against your throat and securing it before watching the way it settles onto your chest from above. Your fingers toy with the gold, so dainty and gentle, you treat everything as if it were the most precious, fragile thing. Even him. His arms practically ache to wrap around your middle, his body freezing despite the comfortable temperature in the house because the only thing that could keep him warm enough was your body pressed against his, every conceivable inch of it.

But he needs a shower. And if he starts now he won’t stop. He intends to stay glued to you, serpentining around your limbs and torso like a parasitic vine, pulling the very will to live from the heat of your skin and the steady beat of your heart. He wonders if you know how much he depends on you.

The strongest in the world. Until he isn’t. Right now he feels like a chump.

It’s not because he lost, because he sure as hell didn’t. He made quick work of each and every foe, it was almost boring. He’d pay someone at this point if they sent something his way that made him break a sweat. No. It’s because he’s tired. He’s tired of being the strongest. He’s tired of trying to change things, to save people he’s still not sure he gives a shit about, and he’s buckling beneath the weight of a name and abilities he never asked for.

There’s no denying it’s fun to be the best. He gets away with more than he should, he toys with people’s minds and worth, destruction sits at his fingertips. But it’s lonely. It’s vapid. And being Satoru Gojo leaves him at the mercy of people he shouldn’t be forced to obey.

He’s never lived.

All he’s done is train, fight, bargain, argue, defend, lose everyone he’s ever allowed himself to care about. And that fear sits heavy in his gut as he watches you skitter off to the kitchen when a timer blares shrill in the air. He has to escape now because if he sees that silly smile that settles on your face when you look at him he’ll fall to his knees.

In the time he takes to debate if he can pull the roots that had grown from his feet up from the floor, you were back, and now the predator was turned prey.

“What’s wrong?” you ask again, reading everything from the shape of his mouth to the slump of his shoulders like a book you’d memorized. Answering is far down his list of desires.

“Nothing,” he lies, plastering a smile on his face, the mask he wore so well snapping back into place, “Hungry.” Another lie. “Tired.” That one was true.

“It’s funny that you think you can lie to me.”

It wasn’t venomous, your tone playful as you ascend onto the tips of your toes and reach behind his head, the cloth masking half of his face falling away. Through all the wondrous things his eyes have seen, you are his favorite thing to gaze upon. Despite your lack of cursed energy, there’s still an enchanting hue to you, he could pick it out of a crowd of thousands in an instant, but when the blindfold is pulled away and the sights of the world come crashing in from every angle, your face is like an oasis. Always so sweet, always so happy, so fucking pure his hands that have killed and killed and killed shouldn’t be allowed to fucking touch you.

“There he is,” you coo, your fingers brushing the hair falling into his eyes that see too much, “I just wanted to see you.”

You feel bad. You feel bad for wanting to see his face. What is he doing here? What is he doing to you?

“Glasses now, yeah?” A request he couldn’t deny if he wanted to.

“Shower,” he replies, finally undoing the buttons of the high collar that suddenly feels suffocating, ripping open the top few buttons of the white shirt he wore beneath it, “Then whatever you want.”

A content little hum agrees to his offer, “Dinner is done in ten.”

“Then I’ll be done in five.”

Yet fifteen minutes later he’s still crouching beneath the steady stream of now-tepid water, the veins in his temples pulsing, pain shooting from behind his eyes to the tips of his fingers and toes. He doesn’t want to move, think, nothing, he just wants to curl up in a ball and sleep.

“Toru?”

Before you, had anyone even attempted to call him by that wretched nickname they’d have found themselves beneath the sole of his boot. And they had tried. Shoko and Mei Mei had both tested the waters, Suguru had been smart enough to read Satoru’s reaction to the first two. At first, he thought he'd allowed it because it started as a choked whine, his cock buried in you to the hilt when you sputtered it from swollen lips, in that moment he didn’t care what you called him, nor had he any other time after that. Then it just stuck.

Or maybe it was because he’d never been the Satoru Gojo with you. He had always been something else. Someone else. You didn’t care how many curses he could exorcise, to you he was the guy who delivered extra sweet boba tea and preferred sodas to sake. While others expected him to risk his life while they sat comfortable behind screens demanding too much from people who were running out of things to give, you just wanted flowers and nights in on the couch where he’d carry you to bed after you fell asleep watching a movie. He wasn’t Satoru Gojo, the prodigy. He was…Toru.

When the door creaks open as a result of his silence, he wonders how much you know, what you assume. There’s no point in trying to maintain the ruse that he’s fine, the opportunity for that had passed before he’d even stepped foot in the house.

“Stop avoiding me.” Well, that answers that. You were exceptionally well aware. “Your trip was shit. I got it. But you’ll be on another one in two days and I’ll—“

You know you’re guilting him, and you stop. It doesn’t matter, it already worked. You’d be alone again. And he was wasting this time moping over things he couldn’t change. Not yet. Not quickly enough.

With a towel in your lap you’re perched up on the bathroom counter, a scowl he could easily wipe away with a kiss set on your face. The residual steam floats around you in thick clouds, you’re ethereal, practically glowing, and long strides close the distance before he’s cupping your jaw with palms that swallow you whole and kissing you harder than he intended to.

It’s like the first breath of air after being trapped underwater. The sun of a warm spring day after a cold winter. The first scent of cherry blossoms and the briny breeze of the ocean. You breathe new life into him so effortlessly. He’d considered the day when you’d wisen up and kick him to the curb, taking solace in the fact that as long as he knew you were still alive, it would be enough. His sanity hinges on your existence and nothing else, because once you were gone there would be nothing left keeping him from losing his mind. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

Uncaring of your long sleeves and his soaked body, you press in closer, tangling fingers into his sopping hair as his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips. It’s been weeks. Painful, lonely, tiresome weeks since he’s felt you, tasted you, smelled you. He’d suppressed his longing, but it’s pouring out now like a river battering through a dam, there was no stopping it until the pressure is released. Lifting you requires little to no strength, and if he’s going to have you, it’s going to be in bed where we can do it properly in the way you deserve. He can have control over this, excel even, if he wasn’t getting back into the shower before the clock struck midnight he would consider it a failure. A man needs goals.

Silver lace was covering your curves beneath your sweater and pants, a sly smirk on your face as you watch his reaction to the real reason you’d gone to Sendai. It’s sheer, his mouth watering at the way your nipples pebble beneath the fabric, the battle between whether to marvel at the sight before him or begin his evening’s activities waging while your nails rake over his forearms extending on either side of you. He’s nestled between your thighs, the damp spot that’s already soaked through your panties pressing against his inner thigh, and all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress until you can’t form a coherent thought. He's forgotten about his headache when he pulls your bra down to bunch beneath your breasts, greedily pulling one of your hardened buds between his lips and whimpering at the taste of your skin on his tongue. You’re scratching his scalp soothingly to disguise the way you’re holding him on your tit, your thighs squeezing around him as he rolled and lapped at your sensitive peak all the evidence he needed to justify the fact he didn’t want to stop; you didn't want him to either. With some resistance, you allow him to switch sides, giving him the chance to lavish the other with as much attention, your back arching into him in relief when he latched.

For a man who walks amongst the clouds, he is still well aware this was as close to heaven that he’ll ever get. This was perhaps the only one that existed. It was definitely the only one he wants to ever see. The smell of your perfume still faintly clings to your skin and he chuckles remembering all the times he’d spritzed it on the bottom of his blindfold, your scent wafting through his nose all day as he’d tried to focus on teaching the students. And with that reminder he craves your lips again, meeting you in a kiss you take a moment to reciprocate, shaking off the haze he’d already put you in.

While your reflexes are still slow to keep up, he slips down the mattress and nestles between your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as he presses his nose to your core and inhales. It’s lewd and had you been anyone else he’d have refrained, but you push down onto his face, and he can taste the tease of what’s to come on the lace. He debates tearing them straight in half—he’ll replace them—but opts to slowly drag them up your legs, kissing along your inner thigh, knee, calf, and ankle on his way up, flicking the thin garment onto the floor behind him before reversing his path on your opposite leg and finding himself face to face with what he craved above all else.

Your slit is glistening, arousal dripping onto the satin sheets as you mewl in anticipation, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your palm as you try to hold back your eagerness for the first swipe of his tongue. He sears it into his memory, this scene of being so shamelessly desired for nothing more than how good he can make you feel. He’s a greedy man, and you’re a giving woman, nothing demonstrates that more than the way you’re willingly splayed for him to have his way with. He never leaves you dissatisfied, he’s too proud for that, but he takes what he wants.

“I’ve had to only dream about this,” his voice is low and menacing, “for too long.”

“You’re being awfully slow to enjoy it then.”

The taunt strikes a chord.

“Did you think about me while I was away?” He can tease, too. “Fingering this tight little cunt wishing it was me instead?”

“Yes…”

“Hmm. And no videos. That’s awfully selfish of you.”

His thumbs graze over your skin in every place except where he knows you want him. He wants you writhing, so desperate for his touch you’ll unconsciously seek it out all for him to deny you until you’re ready to snap.

“My fist gets the job done,” he continues, grazing his teeth over the curve of your ass, “If I imagine you on your knees in front of me.” He kisses your mound, hooking his tongue into the top of your slit and flicking. “Mouth open. Tongue out.” He gets closer to where you need him this time, but still leaves you waiting and wanting. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Anything.” You’re fucking wrecked and he’s barely done a thing.

“Anything? Anything? You should know by now that’s a dangerous word.”

Clearly, it’s a risk you’re willing to take because you don’t have a rebuttal. So the choice is up to him. He’s so pent up he considers if he commits to opting for dessert before dinner, the main course might be ruined. But that wasn’t always a bad thing. It was however not ideal if it ruins his appetite entirely, and he had no intention of cutting this evening short.

“I need to fuck you,” he decides, “Damnit.”

He doesn’t love the decision, but he hates the thought of coming on the sheet while he takes his fill of the feast between your legs. That would impact his focus, and little else deserved his undivided attention. You’re unbothered by his choice entirely, in fact you’re eager, your fists tangled in his hair as you pull him back to your mouth and grab his throbbing cock from where it sits heavy on your stomach.

“I want videos too, you know,” you sigh, nipping at his bottom lip and dragging it between your teeth, “You look so pretty when you come.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re so wet he finds no resistance when he fills you in one hard thrust, the air being pushed from your lungs hot on his throat, "Careful what you wish for."

Memory never did the way your velvet walls swaddle him any justice. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him, your nails piercing half-moons into his porcelain skin while he made no attempt at rhythm or tact. He needs to be buried in you—the only refuge he’s ever found—but he needs the friction, the result making his movements frantic and desperate. It’s too hard, too fast, your whines choked by the punctuated slamming of his hips into yours, all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.

You let him fuck you like this because you know he needs it. There’s a piece of himself he leaves with you for safekeeping every time he walks out the door that he reclaims here in the symphony of your breathy moans between sweat-soaked sheets. He tries to kiss you, but you’re both too overcome to focus, lips just grazing and dragging with each jolt of your body upward. His eyes are wide when he clamps a hand down over your throat, the lack of oxygen sending a rush to your core as he squeezes just enough to make breathing hard. You don’t need oxygen right now, all you require is him.

“You’re a mess,” he compliments into your agape mouth, swallowing down your little sounds as he batters into you harder still, “I’m gonna slip right out.”

“N-no,” you protest, your thighs squeezing around him tighter.

It makes him laugh. “Always so needy,” he touts, pulling all the way out and staring at your gaping hole until your hand grips his length soaked in your juices once again in an attempt to guide him back. “Tsk tsk, behave yourself. Have some control.”

The frustrated groan that rips from your chest sends a shockwave coursing through him. Your eyes are pinched shut so tightly your brow is creasing in the center, your wrist so dainty in his massive grip. He pulls your fingers to his mouth, licking the taste of you clean before placing your spit-soaked fingers over your clit and sitting upright. Without him needing to voice his desire, you begin circling your swollen bundle of nerves, your aggravated tension melting away at your own blissful touch, and when you’ve finally forgotten your annoyance at him, he claims you once again.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of your calf, he ruts into you ruthlessly with his newly established leverage, his eyes locked on the way you drift your touch down every so often to feel where your bodies meet.

“I missed you,” he whines against your ankle, pressing his lips to the bone as he throws it over his shoulder, looping his arms around your thighs and picking up his pace, “Missed your fucking pussy.”

He’s well aware you’re past the point of coherent responses, but he likes the pathetic way you try to form a sentence. It’s all gibberish, even if you could think straight the force he’s thrusting his cock into the deepest parts of you cuts you off, your entire body shuddering, and he can’t help but marvel at the way your breasts shake or how your free hand seeks him out for something to grip on to.

“You need to come,” he commands, feeling the coil in his stomach ready to snap, “Lemme feel you, baby.”

It’s immediate. Your orgasm wracks over your body, every muscle going rigid and then shattering like glass, leaving you boneless and spent beneath him. His crescendo begins as yours subsides, but he feels no relief as he spurts hot and thick into your fluttering channel. He still aches, his cock is still rock hard, so he continues as if he’d never stopped. Your cunt squelches loudly as he fucks through your combined releases, and it feels so fucking good he knows he won’t last much longer in this unexpected second wind.

“Can you take it?” he asks, and it’s not so much his filthy mouth as it is a check in, you’re still silent as he seeks relief once again.

“Y-yes,” you sputter, and deep down he knows you’re too sensitive, too swollen.

“Good girl. Move your hand.”

With caution he presses his thumb to your undoubtedly overstimulated bud, your body jumping at the contact but immediately relaxing as he rubs slow circles. Your cunt is sopping wet, your thighs and his soaked with fluids, and the stench of sex is so heavy in the room he swears it’ll linger for days. Your body is glowing in the moonlight trickling in, a thin shin of sweat making you almost iridescent, and he can’t believe you’re his. He’ll get to sleep in this bed with you tonight, a privilege only awarded to him.

“Toru, please!” you beg, and he realizes he’s so caught up comparing you to the memory he has stored away that you’re painfully close to release once again.

“Gonna come again for me?” he purrs, and when your hole constricts he collapses down, shoving his tongue in your mouth as he joins you in the steep ascent to bliss. He moans into your open mouth as fire blazes in his belly, your chin and jaw firmly in his grip as he stares into the eyes he dreams up before he falls asleep every night before collapsing onto your damp chest.

What he thinks is the calm after the storm turns out to only be its eye, the latter half much less enjoyable than the first. Pain sears across his head, the throbbing behind his eyes pulsing with a newfound rage, and he whimpers in agony. He’s found some sort of safe haven in the curve of your neck, and that will have to do.

Even though he protests with all the energy he has left, you flip him onto his back, the loss of your arms a heavy burden as you leave him on the bed alone. He wants to scream your name, he wants to yell, to be angry at you for abandoning him in this state, but he doesn’t have it in him. He hears a closet door, the faucet, clinking of glass, the scratching of fabric, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes. Not right now.

The dip of the mattress signifies your return after what felt like an eternity, a hot towel wiping from his thighs to his stomach, the familiar scent of the laundry soap hitting his nose. You’d gotten dressed into something, and he reaches up to where you’re perched in the spot his pillow usually sits and recognizes the fabric of one of his t-shirts; if you have to wear clothes at least they’re his.

Gently, you lift the dead weight of his head and place it in your lap, the soft heat of your bare thighs easing the tightness in his neck as a cool cloth is pressed to his aching eyes.

The air is kissed with the smell of orange blossoms, and he sighs in relief when you begin to massage his temples, the oil on your fingers helping them glide across his skin. You work beneath the cold fabric shrouding him from the overwhelming world, running along his brow and cheeks, stopping to release the tension in his jaw he doesn’t realize he’s holding. Traveling over his ears you move to his neck, kneading at the base of his skull where the muscles are so tight they’re hard as stone, your movements so methodical from years of practice.

“You need to sleep,” you demand in a soft, hushed tone, “you’re too tired.”

Well, he hasn’t slept in days. He’d been too busy, it had been too risky, and an empty bed wasn’t conducive to pleasant dreams. There had been enough nightmares watching you be devoured by curses as he stood idly by unable to help, he likes to avoid them by any means necessary now. So, he nods. Sleep does sound nice.

“I’m staying home tomorrow,” he decides, “Turn my phone off.”

Your hum in response has the hint of a giggle, your nails now scratching against his scalp and through his snowy strands. The deafening roar of pain has subsided to an annoying buzz, and the more you work your hands over his head the quieter it becomes. You’re waiting for him to tell you he’s comfortable enough to fall asleep, and although he is, he’s enjoying this too much. A tender touch feels so good after weeks of combat and surging adrenaline, he can’t be blamed for wanting to bask in it for a few moments longer than needed.

“I’m gonna owe you for this, aren’t I?” he finally jokes, threading his fingers with yours and bringing them to his lips where he pecks across your knuckles.

“Oh yeah,” you confirm, tipping his chin up to press a chaste kiss to his pouty lips, “Big time.”

After a quick sweep of the house, including both turning off his phone and hiding it in a kitchen drawer, and a change of the sheets much to Satoru’s dismay over having to move, you slip back into bed. Immediately, his arms circle you, and although you're facing away from him comfortably nestled on your side, he buries his face into your spine, falling asleep almost immediately as your heat washes over him like a security blanket.

He dreams of home. Of you. A flower behind your ear and a smile lighting up your face. He has the courage to say he loves you here, something he has yet to utter in waking hours. It’s been too long to matter now, you read it in his actions and his intent, but one day he hopes to not fear the consequences of saying the words aloud. Because he does love you, more than anyone, anything. More than himself. And one day he’ll admit it.

One day.

***Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated***

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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dellalyra · 7 months

Text

𝐑𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

pixie says: i got him i got hydro daddy so here’s some celebration fluff ft my babies the Melusine’s.

Imagine Neuvillette coming to you, a small box in his hands and a Melusine skipping alongside.

You had been close to the Iudex for a very long time, two of the eldest beings in Fontaine. The Hydro Dragon and the leader of the remaining Naiads were bound together by fate - spirits and embodiments of the nation’s elements. Although he posed now as the Chief Justice, as you as a florist - you maintained that friendship from all that time ago.

However, his arrival at the beach you would always sit on after work with his small companion, Liath - you recognised - was unexpected. The fact he knew where to find you was enough to set your heart alight.

“Madame Y/N, please do excuse our interruption - I hope we are not intruding?” Neuvilette asks, poised as ever.

“Nonsense, Neuvilette. Come, sit. Hello Liath, how has your day been?” You say, patting the space your large cloak has been spread out on the sand.

Liath immediately pulls Neuvillette by the hand and they sit down beside you, the Melusine immediately climbing to sit on the man’s lap and the soft smile on his face makes your stomach feel warm and fluttery.

“I’m afraid I must ask for your assistance, it appears a skill of yours has eluded my talents. A skill in which Liath is currently searching for.” He says.

“Oh? How can I help?” You smile, turning to sit facing them.

“Liath came to me today, mentioning how much she admired the style you wore your hair in several days ago - however, I am not well versed in the art of braiding.” He says, face extraordinarily serious for a man asking for braiding advice.

“Oh well that is something I can help with! You want your hair to be like mine, Liath?” You ask, patting her small hand.

She nods and turns to Neuvillette who passes her the box on his right. Her small hands present the blue box tied with a blue ribbon to you and you unravel the bow to find a ridiculously excessive amount of hair clips, bows, ribbons and bands laying underneath a silver soft bristled hair brush.

“I was not entirely sure of what accoutrements you would need for this endeavour, Madame, so I collected everything I could think of. I do hope the brush will suffice, it is my own.” The man says, resting his cane against his leg as Liath crawls from his lap into yours.

“This is more than enough, I could braid the hair of every Melusine in Fontaine with all of this!” You smile.

“Can you do my hair like yours, please? The one long plait with a big ribbon at the end?” The darling on your lap asks.

“Of course, sweetling. Monsieur, sit closer - I will teach you how to do this in the event I’m ever occupied.” You say, patting the space beside you, to which obliges and shifts to sit at your side.

You pointedly ignore the hammering in your chest when the breeze wafts his scent toward you: sea salt, fresh air and something cool and calming.

You begin to brush the Melusine’s hair, soft gentle strokes removing any tangles and easing a path for the style.

“So you just gather hair as you go along, make sure you have three strands - and you overlap them like so, see? If it’s tighter, it will last longer - however I find if they’re too tight it tends to give me quite the headache so I’ll do it nice and loose for this little angel.”

Neuvillette watches your fingers weave through the silky strands and deftly manoeuvre it to your will - or rather - Liath’s will.

“And ta-da!” You say, securing the soft pink ribbon at the end.

Liath reaches up and feels her hair, before looking at the small compact mirror you produce from your bag and smiling.

“Oh thank you so much! I look almost as beautiful as you now! Papa - doesn’t it look pretty!” She spins toward the man beside you.

“Beautiful as a pluie lotus, dearest.” He responds.

“I’m going to show Sedene!” She scampers off toward the Palais, leaving you with the Iudex.

Somehow - this became routine. Every day, Neuvillette and Liath would show up to your spot on the beach, or your florist as it rains - and you would fix the hair of the Melusine. However, the second day - Sedene joined too. Then Aeife, then Elphane, then Blathine and soon you had a gaggle of giggling Melusines decorating each others hair in a chain of styling.

“Madame Y/N?” Liath asks about a month into this newfound tradition.

“Yes, sweetling?” You say, finishing up her hair as she turns to curl into you.

“Are you our mama?” She asks, yawning and nuzzling into you.

At this, the Iudex snaps his head from the newspaper he was reading across from you.

“Would you like me to be?” You ask the cuddled up bundle.

“Very much so. You do our hair, and take care of us if we’re not well and give us kisses. And since Monsieur Neuvillette is like our papa - and he thinks you’re beautiful and he feels a lot of love when he looks at you then that would make you our Mama!”

The Melusine has no idea what she’s said.

You snap your head to look at the hydro dragon.

His eyes are wide, newspaper held tighter in his grip as he looks between you and the little gossip.

“Does he now? Well, then - I suppose I am your mama, if you would allow me the pleasure.” You smile, settling a blanket on the sleepy child.

As she drifts off to a well deserved nap - the man turns to you.

“I do apologise, Madame. Liath - I did not expect her to be so free with her words. If my presence makes you uncomfortable I shall take my leave immediately.” His horns seem to droop slightly, and the sky turns a little bit greyer.

“Well - someone had to make a move. After all, I have been waiting for 700 years.” You smirk, shifting to stand and lay Liath on the armchair of your apartment above your shop.

Neuvillette snaps his head to you.

“I - 700 years? That was when -” The man stands up and walks toward you.

“When we met, yes.” You take his hand and pull him to your kitchen - where you can speak without volume concerns.

He looks at you as if you’ve grown another head.

“I have been in love with you since the moment I stormed into your old home with intention of befriending the mighty Sovereign of Hydro.” You laugh, taking your hand and placing it on his cheek to which he subconsciously leans in to - every touch starved ounce of his body singing in delight.

“A Melusine revealing my love for you wasn’t quite my intention, yet I fear my lack of romanticism would have impeded any attempts made by myself.” He says, and you huff a small laugh at him - never giving himself enough credit.

“Yet, as we are here now - I’ll do my utmost. You have enchanted me, body and soul, from the day a young Naiad flung open my doors. I’m sure you’re reasoning for keeping these feelings to yourself are similar to mine - you were far too precious and integral to my life to allow myself the risk of you no longer being a part of it.” He says, stroking a long finger across the rise of your cheek. You agree with him, voicing the same opinion that he was far too meaningful to you to potentially lose, yet you figured he felt for you about 50 years ago - but thought it best for him to figure it all out by himself rather than moulding things for him - given his nature and responsibilities. You can see a trail of shimmer on his lower lashes, this sweet, oh-so sensitive man. You wipe the beginnings of tears from his eyes.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don’t cry.” You smile, seeing him grin down at you and the mirth in his eyes lights your heart.

You tilt your head up to him and he cups your face with his large hands.

“May I kiss you, my darling girl?” He asks in the gentlest voice imaginable.

“Please.”

His soft lips press to yours and you feel as if you’re floating in the purest, warmest most divine pool of water as the clarity of kissing your love sets in. The kiss is gentle, romantic and full of pent up longing - the soft swipe of your tongue across his lower lip makes his hand grip tighter on your waist as you wind your hand into the silky white hair cascading down his back.

He pulls away, both needing a reality check - he looks at you as if to ensure you’re real and you smile at him, pecking his lips once more.

“I love you, Neuvillette.”

“I love you, dearest Mate of the Hydro Dragon”

“And we love you both too!”

The cheerful, loud voices of 3 melusine’s make you both jump as they appear at your door - boxes of cakes and sweets in their arms.

“Liath! Wake up! Papa finally kissed Mama!”

#neuvillette #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #neuvilette genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #fontaine #hydro dragon hydro dragon please don’t cry

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leclerc-s · 5 months

Text

mamma mia! - part three

masterlist previous next

mia tate do you think i would go to german jail for punching a reporter in the face?

daniel ricciardo please tell me you haven't already done that.

mia tate no.

mia tate but hypothetically speaking, if i did, it was because he asked me a really gross question and he was annoying.

max verstappen oh my god. this is hilarious. please tell me you did.

charles leclerc she did. it's on twitter.

daniel ricciardo is this why fernando was cackling earlier??

mia tate yes, and he also pulled me away from the reporter before he could punch me. hypothetically speaking

max verstappen alright, i'm settling this the only way daniel has taught me

max verstappen added two people

mia tate well you got one thing right, you are motorsports biggest headache.

max verstappen i didn't add you so i could be bullied. i added you so that someone could fucking explain what happened earlier. christian is glaring at me and i had nothing to do with this

lando norris oh she rocked the shit out of that reporter.

alex albon who taught you to punch and can they teach me?

mia tate my ex boyfriend

george russell well that took a turn mia tate AND NOT IN THE WAY YOU GUYS THINK!! I LIVE IN NEW YORK! ONE WRONG MOVE AND THEY'LL MUG ME! abigail tate you idiot.

fernando alonso oh it was great maxie, the reporter said some things i will not be repeating, it went on for ages and mia took it like a champ until finally he asked a really gross question and she punched him. i think abigail almost bit him, or that's what twitter is saying.

fernando alonso being the driver closest to them i stepped in when he looked like he was going to hurt mia and abigail. sebastian vettel, being the great guy he is, called security on the guy before you could show up and go all mad-max on him.

max verstappen i would not have done that.

daniel ricciardo oh my god

lance stroll oh this just made my day so much better.

sebastian vettel lance, not the time lance stroll i feel like i should be honest. they should know the mess they're getting into.

pierre gasly how is this whole thing going to work? like is mia moving to monaco or are the three stooges moving to new york?

charles leclerc she just said we could get mugged! i am not moving to new york

max verstappen what? your pretty face can't take a hit? charles leclerc are you flirting with me? abigail tate how have you two not fucked? matter of fact how has max not fucked daniel or charles? lando norris THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING!! JUST FUCK EACH OTHER AND GET RID OF THE SEXUAL TENSION!

mia tate why would i move to monaco??

daniel ricciardo because that's where we live? you could bring your emotional support mia tate bunch of tax evaders you people are. a french, an aussie, and a dutch, who would've thought? charles leclerc I'M MONEGASQUE!! mia tate TAX EVADER!! charles leclerc I WAS BORN THERE!! MAX AND DANIEL ARE THE TAX EVADERS!! max verstappen AND YOU'RE JUST AN INCHIDENT BITCH!

sebastian vettel can you stop acting like children?

esteban ocon i'm not even religious but i pray for that child's sanity

charles leclerc sorry seb

max verstappen sorry seb

mia tate for the record, i'm not sorry

daniel ricciardo i, for once, did nothing wrong

mick schumacher can i be godfather?

max verstappen you're a child?? how are you supposed to look after another child mia tate but he's so adorable? how can i say no to him?? charles leclerc by saying no?? mick schumacher haters. let me have this one thing

carlos sainz let me be godfather. i'm charles teammate.

daniel ricciardo we are not having this conversation right now. max has been silently plotting how to murder a reporter. can everyone please focus?

max verstappen yes, like what was his name?

sebastian vettel NO MURDER!

mia tate wow, you really are a dad.

sebastian vettel someone has to be the responsible one here and it's not fernando, kimi, or lewis.

kimi raikkonen 👍

kimi raikkonen 🤰🏼?

lewis hamilton yes kimi, the girl is pregnant kimi raikkonen 🦥 🦡 🏎️? lewis hamilton yes, no one knows who that dad is yet. it's either max, daniel, or charles. kimi raikkonen 😂

abigail tate how did you get that from a few emojis?

lando norris max is the sloth because he's sid from ice age

max verstappen fuck you norris

george russell daniel is the badger because people call him honey badger

alex albon and charles is the car because of this

mick schumacher does that make mia, sally?

abigail tate OH MY GOD THIS IS GREAT!

mia tate CODE DAD ABBY! CODE DAD!

lance stroll what the fuck is code dad? is she going into labour?

lando norris don't be ridiculous, she's only a month pregnant. their dad is probably here.

lando norris OH SHIT! EVERYONE RUN FOR COVER!

mia tate don't be so dramatic. he's not an asshole, he never abused us. he just had bigger dreams for us and when we failed to do what he wanted he disowned us.

sebastian vettel that's still not good mia. he left you two when you needed him. you're children.

kimi raikkonen 🤬

esteban ocon even kimi agrees, which is a first

esteban ocon uh oh sebastian has adopted two more kids. mia and abigail, welcome to the family lance stroll he’s only known them 2 hours?? esteban ocon the girl is pregnant because of his former teammate and the mini versions of him. he’s attached lance.

mia tate he was a single dad raising three kids under the age of 8. he tried his best sebastian. it may not have been the best but i turned out alright, jury's still out on abby.

daniel ricciardo do you two need anything? like do you need us to keep him away from you two?

abigail tate we'll be okay danny, besides, i think sebastian and fernando have made it their mission to be our personal bodyguards. like mia said, he was never a bad father, he just made some mistakes.

robert tate why did i just get asked around the paddock if i was excited to be a grandfather? who got someone pregnant or who's pregnant?

abigail tate i forgot we let the idiot name this chat.

marc tate take that fucking back! i am a stressed medical student in his final year of school, let me fucking be.

robert tate AM I GOING TO BE A GRANDFATHER?? YES OR NO??

marc tate do you think i have time to date?? much less sleep around? wasn't me.

abigail tate kids are icky.

robert tate mia?? is it you??

mia tate mia can't come to the phone right now. please leave a message after the beep. love, the war criminal.

marc tate war criminal?? what the hell have you two been up too.

mia tate mia is unavailable - seb

mia tate 🖕- 7️⃣

abigail tate her phone's been hijacked by three world champions.

marc tate YOU GUYS ARE AT SPA??

marc tate THE ONE WEEKEND I CHOSE NOT TO GO WITH DAD??

abigail tate what the fuck happened to 'i'm a medical student, i have no life?'

marc tate school does not matter when it comes to f1.

mia tate DAD! I FUCKED UP! I WENT TO GREECE, SLEPT WITH A FEW PEOPLE AND NOW I'M PREGNANT! - MIA

mia tate SHE'S LYING - WAR CRIMINAL

robert tate abby?

abigail tate oh, she's not lying. CONGRATS YOU'RE GOING TO BE A GRANDFATHER!!

marc tate oh my god she's the girl that f1 twitter is losing it's mind over?

abigail tate congrats your grandchild is either half honey badger, half mad-max, or half il predestinato. we're not quite sure who the dad is.

marc tate HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM MIA!!

robert tate abby, is she okay? our problems aside, for once, how is she?

abigail tate she's fine or at least as well as anyone who is faced with this current situation is. ignoring the sexist and misogynistic comments people seem to throw at her. she punched a reporter today, i almost bit his ankles (in theory).

robert tate can we talk? all three of us?

mia tate if you want to talk to mia, you're going to have to apologize for your actions and choices against her and abby. - seb

mia tate MAN UP AND APOLOGIZE TO YOUR DAUGHTERS! - WAR CRIMINAL

mia tate mia will talk to you but i will be present. there is no excuse for what you did to your children. - seb

abigail tate so that's why they call him paddock dad

mia tate heyyyy - charles

mia tate pleasure to meet you two! hi abby! - daniel

mia tate why does charles get to be called il predestinato but i get stuck with mad max? it's not fair! - max

mia tate i swear to god if one more driver steals my phone i will be committing crimes against them.

robert tate okay. i made choices i'm not proud of and i will take responsibility for my actions. i have been going to therapy now. i can see where i made mistakes.

mia tate wow. it's almost like mom leaving didn't just affect us and it affected you too. WHICH IS WHAT I'VE BEEN FUCKING SAYING FOR YEARS!

marc tate oh that she has been saying. therapist also said that dad was afraid of you and abby leaving so he pushed you two away. it's not an excuse btw, that's what dad's told me. look at that maybe we should all go to therapy.

abigail tate maybe max can join us!

mia tate fuck you - max

abigail tate wow is that any way to talk to your sister-in-law verstappen??

mia tate MIA'S MOVING TO MONACO! - CHARLES

robert tate what the fuck?

mia tate I HAVEN'T EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT IT! THE ANSWER IS NO!

mia tate FOR NOW! - CHARLES

marc tate well, this family has a lot of issues to solve.

taglist: @six-call @barcelonaloverf1life @janeholt3 @queen-aria-things @camdensreg @mycenterfold @woozarts @vellicora @nichmeddar @thisismereading @inloveallthetime @baw-sixteen @floxly @dear-fifi @chiliwhore @ilove-tswizzle

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! listen i needed someone who was a motorsports fan and had played a doctor and i could only think of one person, patrick dempsey. (i've never seen an episode of grey's anatomy in my life) i was also going to make him an asshole but i do that too much, so i gave him a redemption (sort of). is it a redemption? i also know nothing about therapy because i've never gone, feel free to correct me if i get anything wrong in that aspect.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #f1 fic #f1 instagram au #formula 1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #mamma mia series #fanfic #fanfiction #daniel ricciardo x female oc #max verstappen x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc #f1 x mamma mia crossover

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nochukoo97 · 7 months

Text

boyfriend drabbles (pt.28)

pairing: idol!jungkook x gf!reader

summary: the one where you fall sick after you and jungkook get into a fight right before he has to leave for america

word count: 1.3k+

taglist!: @imlyfie @jksgirlhere

boyfriend drabbles masterlist!

You seriously didn’t want to end your last moment with Jungkook before he flew to America this way, but the both of you had been on edge the past few days, so a little argument only fueled the both of you to grow upset and agitated.

Hell, you didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye to him, you simply just acknowledged your boyfriend heading out with his two luggages before he closed the door.

But here you are, sitting alone on the couch of Jungkook’s apartment, nose puffy and red from sobbing earlier. Even though he would be only gone for three days, you knew this fight would make it seem like ages for the both of you.

The next day you were sitting on the counter, picking at your bowl of food. If Jungkook had been here, he would chat with you while the both of you ate, he would sneak little kisses here and there or feed you something. The absence of your boyfriend’s presence further fueled this empty and broken feeling in you.

To add on to that, the time difference with both countries made it worse to communicate, normally Jungkook would stay up late to call you whenever you woke up, but it seemed because of the fight, he had not done so. It hurt you a little inside, afraid that the both of you would be at a silent war with each other for the next two days.

Jungkook on the other hand, was pacing back and forth in his hotel room, his finger hovered above the ‘call’ button of your contact in his phone, yet the previous unsolved argument made him retract his finger, deciding to send you a text instead.

Your phone lit up beside you, catching your attention.

kook ❤️: baby, are you awake?

kook ❤️: miss you, let’s talk when i get home okay?

You almost let out a sigh of relief that he had at least not forgotten to talk to you, quickly picking up your phone, you reply,

me: yes, it’s late over there, why aren’t you asleep?

It was true, it was at least 2am there and you knew he had an early morning the next day. Jungkook paused for a second, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he noticed your thoughtful comment.

You watch as the three dots appear and pause for a minute, Jungkook on the other hand contemplating on how he should respond to you.

kook ❤️: was thinking about you

me: go to sleep baby, you need rest for tmr

Jungkook sinks in his seat a little at your abrupt reply, normally you would have maybe replied with emojis or simply more expression, but it seemed as if the previous argument had still been in your mind.

He quickly reacts to your message with a ‘thumbs up’ and turns his phone off, laying on the cold hotel bed. If not for the argument, he would’ve been on a call with you, falling asleep to you doing chores or random activities, with your presence. Yet now Jungkook feels a part of him empty, laying in silence and hoping his body falls asleep soon.

To be fair, the weather forecast did not say it was about to rain this heavily today. Your initial plan of a quick run to the convenience store near Jungkook’s apartment failed miserably, as you begin to run to the nearest shelter, clothes soaked from the sudden downpour.

A string of curses flows out of your mouth as you try your best to shield yourself with your hands over your head. If Jungkook was there, he probably would have brought an umbrella, or he would have run in the rain together with you, making it seem not bad at all. But of course, with your heart heavy from the argument and the absence of your boyfriend, the rain only further fueled your frustrations.

When you finally reach home after running to the convenience store, you’re dripping head to toe, sniffing as you feel a headache coming in. Falling sick was not on your list either, but it seemed a ten minute run in the rain made your body shut down immediately.

Jungkook had texted you that night, but you had no energy to simply pick up your phone from the coffee table, body limp and weak on the couch as you curl up, shivering from time to time. To add to that, you had run out of medicine in your emergency cabinet, and you knew well enough that going out to buy medicine for yourself was the last thing to do.

“Baby, I’m home,” Jungkook calls out, but he’s only to be met with a dark apartment, looking a little more bare than usual.

Your cat mug was not on the table, the pink blanket you had always left on the couch gone, your laptop on the coffee table gone.

His eyebrows furrow, causing a crease between them as he walks into the kitchen, then the study room, then finally your shared bedroom. Jungkook loses it when he realises, your pillows on your side of the bed are gone, the bedroom slippers you always left near the bedroom door are also gone.

“Fuck, where did you go?” He mutters under his breath, cursing at himself for not calling you before he boarded the plane. You couldn’t have left the house out of anger right? It seemed like it was the only reasonable explanation at this point.

The small light that emits from the gap between the floor and the door of the guest room catches his eye, as Jungkook hums in confusion, why would you be in there?

When he creaks open the door, he’s met with a huge lump of blanket, pillows scattered around the mattress, a mini set up of your mug and tissues and your laptop right next to the bed.

“Jagi, why are you in here?” He pulls open the blanket, making eye contact with you, curled up into a ball, nose red from sniffling.

“Kook, don’t come near me,” You croak out, voice scratchy as you use your foot to push him away. It only makes him step back one step but you’re satisfied with the distance for now.

“Are you sick? Why didn’t you call me?” He approaches you again, ignoring your hands that attempt to swat him away as he places his palm on your forehead.

Hissing, he retracts his hand, “You’re heating up,” Jungkook frowns at you, concern flashed over his face as he studies you.

“I moved here because didn’t want to keep the germs in our room, then you won’t catch it,” You whisper, throat already stinging just after speaking a few words earlier, “I left my phone on my side of our bed, I was too tired to go back to take it,”

Jungkook can only sigh, mentally scolding himself, “How long have you been like this?”

“Two days? I went to the convenience store but it started raining and I forgot an umbrella. It’s okay though, I also didn’t want to worry you too much since you weren’t here,” You let out a smile, stroking his cheek tenderly.

“Next time tell me immediately okay? You’ve been sick and alone for two days, I could have at least sent someone to take care of you,” He looks around the room, a pile of tissues at the corner of your bed as you realise how close he is to you.

“Kook, go out of the room, you’re gonna catch my cold,” You whine, hands pressed against his chest as you attempt to push him away again.

“I’ll rather be sick with you than be away from you,” And with that, he rolls onto the mattress, trapping you in his embrace. Jungkook laughs seeing you squirm about in his hold, rambling on about how he should not be in the room right now.

“I’ll go and buy your medicine soon, in ten minutes okay?”

“Then please stop cuddling me or you’ll have to miss the rest of your promotions,”

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #bts #bts ff #bts fic #jungkook angst

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daisybianca · 8 months

Text

pairing: lewis hamilton x femalereader

summary: lewis gives you secretly his number. you're hesitant to call him at first, but when you do, things get a little much more interesting.

warning: mentions of sexual activities, cursing words

(a/n): this is part one. Here's part two and part three.

YOU WERE STANDING in the loud crowd of people. Each one of them holding out a shirt, a picture, or a shirt to sign, including you.

You held out a white hat with a Mercedes emblem on it, hoping Lewis would notice it.

When he finally reached you, he looked at you for a few seconds and smiled.

What the...?!

He signed the hat and moved into the next person.

And when you turned around ready to leave, you looked down at your hat, seeing a phone number written on it.

Fuck.

"My best friend is a total idiot," your best friend shouted from the balcony of your apartment.

"Stop calling me an idiot!" You climbed out of bed. "Or at least try to be discreet with your very generous opinions about me and get your ass inside! I've got some deliciously hot neighbors who don't particularly need to know everything about me."

"Have you even been listening to me this whole time that I've been lecturing you about matters of life and death?" She sighed dramatically.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "A random guy giving me his number isn't a matter of life a death, if you ask me."

"Did you just call Lewis Hamilton a random guy? My husband of nine years?"

"Oh, stop acting like a blushing schoolgirl," You brought your fingers to your temple and massaged the flesh there as if the movement could erase the brutal headache. "Besides, you dragged me to that race. Maybe it's your chance to hook up with your crush-since-for-ever!"

Your best friend's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting, filthy woman?"

"You shoukd call him. I'll give you his number right away." You strolled to find your back, but a habd found your wrist, stopping you.

"You're a mad woman. That's a fact."

You fake smiled. "Stop complimenting me that much. I don't think red suits on my cheeks."

"I swear, you're insane. The only reason I'm still by your side is because until 11th grade, you had my back when I sneaked out for parties, hooking up with whoever had a penis and a 6 pack."

You turned to face your best friend, hands in your hips and lips tightly shut together.

"You're seriously going to turn down this offer?" She asked.

"I wouldn't exactly call it an offer."

Your best friend rolled her eyes. "Yes. I'd call it stupidity, actually!" She waved her hands dramatically in the air. "THE Lewis Hamilton flirted with you, and you didn't even notice. Then he gave you secretly his number, and you're freaking going to ignore it?!"

"And what am I supposed to do about it? He's just a normal guy. Don't make him look like he's some God himself."

"First of all, yeah. Lewis is a God himself. He's mouth-watering hot, almost an 8 times champion, has a very cute dog, an 8 pack to stare at all day long, and much, much money," your best friend explained. "You should definitely call him. At least try to figure out why he gave you his number." She added in a calmer tone.

You exhaled and grabbed the white hat curled up under the sheets of your king sized bed. Gazing at the number, you then bit your lips. "Fine," you gave in. "But I'll call him tomorrow so that I don't seem much desperate, okay?"

"He was the one to make a very, very bold first move, and now you're afraid of embarrassment?!" She growled. "Come on! We only live once. Live some adventure, have some great sex, and experience a true love! I haven't seen you going head over heels for someone except that John guy in college."

"It hasn't been a long time since college," you said, contemplating whether you should count the years or not. You choose the second one. "I'll call him tonight. But don't think I'm doing it because I'm actually interested! I'm doing it exclusively for you." You explained, playing with the hem of your summer blue dress. "He probably is an attention freak who only dates supermodels."

"Baby, I assure you," your best friend came and sat next to you, her hand wrapping around you and caressing your cheek. "Supermodels would kill to look like you."

A smile appeared on your lips, and you gazed at your best friend. She always had a special eay about cheering you up and getting you out of your moody and grumpy vibe.

"Tonight." You said.

This has many potential to go wrong, you thought.

You didn't like wrong. You like safe and steady. But what if your best friend was actually right? (For the very first time of your 20 years old friendship.)

"Tonight." She repeated and smirked.

You turned your head and analyzed the hat with the calligraphic black numbers on it.

This couldn't get any more embarrassing.

***

You let out a long, deep, and shaky breath, then dialed the number.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Three beebs later, a male voice answered the call. "Hello?" The tone was familiar and harsh, but you couldn't be entirely sure that it was him.

"Hey," your voice came out steady, much to your surprise.

"Who is it?" The man replied and now you were sure it was him.

The British accent.

"Um, I noticed a number written on my hat that you signed and--"

"You're the girl from the race?" He interrupted you very much, complicated thoughts that would sooner turn into much more complicated words.

"Yes," you replied hesitantly. "Maybe one of them, at least. In case you gave your number to a few more girls for fun."

A laughter sounded. It was bried but somehow contagious. "I assure you, love, I don't usually spread my number across my fans' hats and shirts."

Your senses kicked in, and the temperature rised in your body.

Love.

"So, why was I the chosen one?" You asked.

"Oh," Lewis growled. "Maybe I could answer that question face to face." He said and then added a few moments later, "Join me for dinner tonight, will you, love?"

You laughed. "Isn't it kind of early for us to meet?"

"I'm not going to kidnap you, I promise." You could basixally hear him smile on the other line. "You can bring a friend of your for more safety." He suggested.

"So that it could be two of us to be kidnapped, right?"

There was a moment of silence. "Not sure about that." He spoke a few seconds later. "I only want you to be honest."

You smiled.

Is he flirting with me?

Of course he's flirting with you, you idiot!

"Are you asking me out on a date?" You asked.

"Yes." He replied instantly. "I couldn't wait another torturing hour, anticipating a call or a text from you."

"Okay. I'm in then."

"What about tonight at 9 pm?" He asked.

It was about 7, so you guessed there was plenty of time to get ready.

"Yes, that'd be great." You smiled.

"Perfect. May I pick you up myself at nine?"

"I'm surely capable of driving my own car, don't you think?" You laughed.

"Maybe," he said. "But why actually do it if I can drive for you? I'll come pick you up myself, I promise."

"No cops, no kidnappers?" You joked.

"I promise."

Lewis Hamilton would drive for you...?

"Okay, then." You spoke. "See you tonight, Lewis. I'll text you the address."

You went to end the call, but he stopped you before tapping the red button. "Wait, wait--"

"Hmm?"

"What's your name, love?"

Your heart roared in your chest and your cheeks reddened.

You adored that nickname.

"Actually, this was the first thing that I would mention to a guy, but love sounds much better, don't you think?"

Lewis laughed. "Tell me your name, and I promise I'll use love every single time instead of it."

"Okay," you said. "I'm (y/n)."

A moment of silence occurred again. "Prettier than love, honestly."

"Maybe, but not when you're the one to say it." You smiled. "You know, that British accent can actually kill."

"Hmm," his voice sounded from the other line. "Weird thing. That is exactly what I could tell about your eyes, as well."

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florence-nomachine · 4 months

Note

Hi, if you're fine with it could you write doctor!William and patient!fem!reader and William fucks the reader in her hospital bed after lying to her about something. What it is, up to you. Happy holidays!

A/N: Thanks for the respectful ask Anon! Happy new year!!🎉 The irony of this was that the day before I got this req I’d literally read a fic for another fandom that was similar to the concept lmao. I’m sorry it’s taken a while, thanks for being patient! :)

WARNING: Reader is a little naive, or has amnesia (You chose). Below the cut will contain dub-con, manipulation and abuse of power. Minors DNI, and read at your own discretion.

“Dr Afton…Am I going to be okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re under my care after all…”

You’d come to Dr Afton a few weeks ago, concerned with the fact that you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. You’d tried essential oils, music, even pills - all to no avail. Now, not only could you not sleep, but you were even more tired than before, becoming no stranger to headaches and irritability.

William had almost cum in his pants when you’d come back to him, eyes heavy and on the brink of tears; desperate and pleading for him to ‘fix’ you. In that moment, he almost felt bad that he’d given you stimulants, the same given to people who suffered from narcolepsy.

Today you were lying flat on the sterile medical beds, face up as your legs were spread in stirrups. Dr Afton had requested you to take off your underwear, and your pussy was exposed to the cool of the room. You were a little embarrassed, but luckily a sheet was draped over the bottom half, so you couldn’t see the man’s face.

“What is it?” you asked slowly, hearing as the man clicked his flashlight off. He sighed and hummed, and you’d come to know that it wasn’t one of promise.

“Forgive me for asking, sweetheart, but…How many sexual partners have you had?” he said, clearing his throat.

You swallowed.

“Um…One?” you said unsurely, biting your lip. “It was a while ago…On prom night,”

“Hm,” William said, and the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk. He didn’t know how you’d made it through three years of college without sex, but he was certainly glad. “I think I’ve found the source of your problem…”

“Really?” you squealed, and William adjusted his glasses in anticipation. Even though he’d locked the door, there was still a risk. If a nurse was to try and wander in, it would certainly ring alarm bells. He’d have to make this quick.

“Uh-huh,” he sang, and you were pleased to hear the glee in his voice. Dr Afton took his job so seriously! “Sweetheart, the source of your insomnia isn’t from the head - well, not directly - but your hormones. Most specifically, your endocrine system,”

“Oh,” you said. You remembered that stuff from high school. But how did that have anything to do with sleeping?

William sighed.

“The secret to a good night's rest is simply through achieving orgasm. You haven’t had sex in four years - and I assume you don’t masturbate - and your hormones are all messed up because of it. Upon reaching orgasm, we release oxytocin - the happy hormone - which in turn makes us relaxed, and then sleepy. Not to mention the physical movement that comes with sex,”

You were in shock. How could it have been so simple? How were you going to start having these, let alone every night so that you could sleep?

“Dr Afton, I –”

“No worrying about it, darling,” he hummed, beginning to shush you. “I’ve got just the thing…”

He was oh-so quiet as he zipped down his pants, his already hard cock jutting out of the hole. Taking off his gloves, he gave himself a few languid strokes before placing a hand on your knee, peeking over the cloth to get a glimpse at you. You were staring up at him with curious eyes, squirming slightly under his cold hands. It was different without his gloves.

“I’m just going to run a few tests, okay?” he smiled, blue eyes wide and sparkling. “It may hurt, and it might feel a little uncomfortable, but it’s going to help, okay? Call my name if you want something, alright?”

You nodded.

“W-What is your name?” you said, suddenly shy. Calling a doctor by their first name felt strangely intimate.

“William,” he said, nodding at you before he disappeared back under the sheet, placing his hands on your thighs to signal for you to spread them apart. As you did, he lined his cock up with your entrance, taking a moment to rub his nub; pink and leaking with precum, along your folds. He let out a low groan as he felt you tremble.

“Just one of my tools, baby,” he assured you. “Don’t worry, it’s sterile, of course,”

You shut your eyes and scrunched your nose at the feeling. Whatever William was using was warm, slightly sticky and thick, yet it was making you feel good. You felt your thighs begin to quiver in anticipation, a hot, pulsing sensation rushing to your privates, in turn making it easier for William’s tool to glide across your pussy.

He hummed at the feeling of you growing wetter. Slyly, he placed his thumb onto your clit, beginning to rub it in circles as he pushed his head into you without warning, making you gasp. He hissed as he sank deeper into you, hands gripping the styrofoam of the chair, his body looming over you slightly. He could see the top of your face, eyebrows furrowed to the ceiling at the strange sensation, your lips slightly parted and wet. He longed to be able to kiss them; to hold you a little closer as he took all of you, but time was of the essence.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he smiled. “Almost there…”

He grumbled, choking back a moan as he bottomed into you, glancing down to admire your skin-on-skin contact. You were so fucking tight, and wet, that he was surprised he hadn’t broken you - much more he cum right on the stop.

“W-William…” you moaned, covering your mouth at the whorish sound. “It’s — The tool…It’s big…”

“Does it feel good?” was all he said, and he smirked as you nodded, a small whine escaping your mouth as you did. The man chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “This is gonna put you to sleep baby, I promise,”

He withdrew his hips before slamming them back into you, your head lolling against the rest. The sudden pressure was alarming, but it felt amazing, and as if a miracle had taken place you could feel your body relaxing already. Your breasts moved with the contact under the plastic garment, and you reached up to cup them, in turn making you feel even better. William grinned, watching in awe as your pussy took him completely, keeping up with the frantic movements from his greedy thrusts. He wished you were a virgin, that he could’ve popped your cherry right there and then, hugging and comforting you at the fact that you’d bled. Still, you only having one man (boy was the far more accurate term) was far better than two, and he could tell that you moaned and gripped him that this was what you were missing in your life. Desperate to bring you to your peak, he rubbed your clit eagerly, the feeling of his throbbing cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly bringing you to a point of overstimulation. Your raw nipples rubbed against the material of your gown, creating a friction that both pleasured you and made the nubs harden further, practically displaying themselves for William. A thumb on your clit turned into an index finger in your pussy, gently moving against the man’s own base. William’s grunts, the filling, yet rhythmic sensation and the build up of tears in your eyes at your sheer emotion was building up to too much.

It was bittersweet agony when you came. You didn’t know for how long, but you knew you blacked out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your chest heaved and legs quivered. For a moment, William was nothing, just a figment of your imagination, but a wet, sticky sensation filling your cunt and dripping down your thighs brought you back to life.

Your limbs felt lifeless, eyes heavy, and a warm feeling spread across your body. Dr Afton had been right all along.

“I hope you feel better, sweetheart,” he said, words nothing but a jumble in your brain as you came down from your high. “Do note that this is only a temporary fix – I’ll need to see you in three days for an immediate checkup. From there, we’ll need to work out a year-long schedule. It’s imperative I monitor your progress.”

#sorry for any mistakes lmao #florence writes!!#cw: dubcon #william afton x reader #william afton smut #perv! steve raglan #perv! william afton #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x reader #fnaf smut #request fill

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beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

Text

Remember You Even When I Don't (3)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 4.7K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language.

Notes: The response for this continues to blow me away. Thank you all so much! Hearing your thoughts about these two makes me so happy and is so encouraging to write a little bit faster. Please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open!

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed!

Part Two

_________

He dreamt of sparkling lights and cobblestone streets. When he roused consciousness, he thought he could smell pumpkin candles and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

He woke slowly, chasing after the smell and the visuals as they evaporated from his view. He blinked several times, adjusting to the fluorescent light and white walls of his hospital room.

“Well well well, look who decided to wake up.”

It took a moment for the words to register in his mind. He looked to his left, where he had grown accustomed to seeing you sitting, only you weren’t there this time. Instead, he saw someone he recognized very well, smirking at him like only she could.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he grunted out as he adjusted himself on the bed and raised it up so he wasn’t lying down as far, making it easier to look at her.

“You look like shit,” she continued.

Bradley snorted. “Thanks, Phoenix. Appreciate that.”

The smirk on her face fell into a soft smile. She reached out and laid her hand on his, squeezing gently. “It’s good to see you, Rooster.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too,” he nodded, and he meant it. “How…long has it been?”

Like she usually did, Nat knew exactly what he meant, and he was grateful he didn’t have to explain. “For me? Five days. I hear it may be a little longer for you, though. Based on the date you told the doctor, it’s been six months since I was sent to Korea without you.”

“Five days? So…”

“I was in the air with you when you went down,” she confirmed. “We’ve been stationed here together for almost three years.”

“Lucky you,” he murmured as he rolled this new information over in his head. Learning that he was stationed in San Diego, Fightertown of all places, as part of a permanent detachment at Top Gun was a lot for him. The last place he remembered was D.C. But learning he had been with Phoenix here the whole time, for three years, brought another question to his mind. He took a glance around the room, even though he knew they were alone.

“We finally talked her into going home and taking a shower about an hour and a half ago. One of the guys might con her into taking a nap, too.”

The coffee cup from the day prior flashed in his mind again. “We?”

“Mhm,” She hummed, meeting his eyes again. “It’s not just you and me anymore, Bradshaw. We found ourselves a whole, big ass family here. Imagine that, huh?”

He could always count on Nat to never beat around the bush with him. He never knew how much he appreciated it until now, when he had never felt so out of the loop before.

“Anyone I know?”

She barked out a laugh, her eyes shining with something that looked like mischief. “Oh, Rooster. I don’t know that you’d even believe me if I told you.”

“That bad, huh?”

She was still laughing when she leant forward, speaking like she was sharing a secret with him. Bradley supposed that in a way, she was.

“What would you say if I told you Bagman has been here to visit you everyday?”

Bradley’s face scrunched up in disbelief, “Good joke.”

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,” she said, her voice very much taking on the I told you so tone that she was so good at. She picked her phone up from her lap, scrolling for a few seconds before handing it over to him. There was a picture displayed on the screen of a group of people all donning their traditional green flight suits with an F/A-18 in the background. And there, right in the middle with his signature smug grin, was Jake fucking Seresin, arm wrapped around Bradley’s own shoulders like it was completely normal to do so.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

“Tell me. What’s more shocking? Hangman being your best friend, or finding out you have a wife?”

She was teasing him, Bradley knew, trying to ease some of the obvious tension in the room. He looked at the picture again, trying to place names with faces. He recognized Payback and Coyote, and Harvard and Yale, but the rest were unfamiliar to him. He studied it for another moment, but no memories came with it. There was a flash of disappointment when he handed her phone back to her.

“Pretty even, I guess.”

Despite his words, they both knew it wasn’t really even. He had known Hangman for a decade and the rivalry had never really been more than that. But you, on the other hand…you were something Bradley never anticipated or thought he’d have. He’s still in shock at your existence, still something more than perplexed at how you made him feel even if he knew little more than your name.

“This is….a lot, Nat. I have a wife. A wife and a whole life I don’t remember.” It was the first time he had said it out loud. His voice cracked, and his eyes stung, but he knew she would never use it against him. “This is crazy.”

Her face was sympathetic now and she reached back out to hold his hand again. “You’ll get through it, Bradley. I know you will. We’ll all help you. Especially her.” She said it with such certainty that he almost believed her.

“Can you tell me about her?” he asked her tentatively, and Nat shrugged in response.

“It’s not my place to tell you your entire love story with her,” she said. Bradley couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“What I will tell you though,” she continued, and he perked up just the slightest bit, “is that you two are ridiculously happy. And you love one another more than I’ve seen two people be capable of loving one another, and my parents have been married for like 40 years. You, her, and Florence are the perfect little family and we all make fun of you for it on a regular basis but it’s just because we’re jealous.”

Her words made him feel better, but then he replayed them in his head and felt panic course through his body. The heart monitor beeped a little faster. “Florence? Who is Florence? Nat, do I have a kid?”

By the way she bursted out laughing, he assumed that no, he did not, or her sense of humor has seriously changed in the last four years that she would find his panic at the thought funny if it were true.

“No,” she snorted, “not as far as I’m aware. Florence is your cat. You call her Florry, most of the time.”

His sigh of relief was so deep that it hurt his still very broken ribs, but it was worth it. Waking up to a wife he didn’t remember was one thing. He didn’t know if he could handle forgetting a child on top of that. Hell, he could barely handle all of this as it was.

“I don’t remember her,” he started, and despite him stating the obvious, Nat was quiet as he worked out his thoughts. “But I feel like I know her. That’s…that’s crazy, right?”

“I don’t think so,” she shrugged, “You do know her. Better than anyone. Your mind may not remember her, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t.”

Bradley considered her words for a moment, feeling like he got punched right in his broken ribs.

“Yeah,” he croaked, “I feel like I do.”

Phoenix smiled at him sadly, giving him a moment to breathe before she started talking again. She spoke about the last four years of his career. He was stationed in D.C. when he was sent on a six week deployment to Belgium, only to be pulled out of that halfway through for a special mission out of Top Gun. It led to all of those that were called back to form a new unit with this as their homebase.

“The Dagger Squad?” he questioned with a snort. Natascha hit him gently in his arm, but he winced anyway just to mess with her as they’ve always done. “Ow.”

“Jokes on you, asshole. You were the first one to say it and it stuck.”

He groaned. “Of course I was.”

She talks him through how he was promoted in 2020, nearly a year after being stationed here. Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw, she had teased. She had since been promoted as well, but he got it before the rest of them. He felt a certain level of satisfaction in that. They had done additional missions together, deploying for mostly short stints when necessary, and had taught a few Top Gun classes of their own.

Their crew was close, like family. Some of them had been in the air with him when he went down days prior, while the others remained in the tower. They all searched for him and made sure he was found, unwilling and unable to leave him behind.

They had been here everyday since his accident, rotating out in shifts so that you were never alone, staying until the nurses kicked them out at the end of the night. Bob, one of the ones in the photo that Bradley didn’t recognize, had been down in the cafeteria getting you both food when he had woken up the previous morning. It warmed him, knowing you had people here for you when he had been unconscious. That there was someone making sure you ate and drank water and slept. It was important to him that you weren’t alone.

Coyote and Hangman had been the ones to drive you home this evening. You had agreed only if Phoenix stayed in case he woke up, so that he wasn’t alone.

“She thought you would appreciate seeing a face you recognized,” she explained, and the thought that you were that considerate nearly took his breath away. He did appreciate it, more than he thought. The two of them talked for a long time, but Bradley felt himself missing you. There was an ache in his chest that was getting harder to ignore. He found himself looking toward the door and at the clock near the window. The sun had gone down hours ago. When the nurse came in a little while ago to check on him, she had warned Nat that visiting hours were almost over.

“Everything alright?” Nat asked him, noticing how his gaze was wandering and he was taking longer pauses between responding to her. “Pain okay?”

There was an ever present ache in his head and his ribs hurt, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. It wasn’t what he was focused on right now.

You were upset when you had left the room earlier. He still wanted to know who you were talking to and what the doctor had said to you and to just know you. He was starting to get anxious that you weren’t coming back.

He didn’t like the thought. Your presence soothed something. Anytime you were in the room with him, he felt a little less outside of his own skin. You had said the day before that there was nowhere else you would be than beside him, so he had to believe you wouldn’t leave him alone tonight.

“Fine,” he muttered, deciding to keep the thoughts to himself, too embarrassed to ask after where you were and when you were coming back. He suspected that Nat saw right through him, but gracefully, she moved on. Even when another thirty minutes had passed and the nurse came in again, informing the two of them that visiting hours were over and she was hugging him goodbye as gently as she could, he didn’t say anything.

When the door closed behind her, he realized it was the first time he had been alone since he woke up in this bed the morning before. Being on his own had never bothered him before. He had always preferred solitude over anything else, yet this felt strangely empty. Lonely, even. Your face was there at the forefront of his mind. He found himself wondering what you were doing right now. If you had ended up taking that nap at home and if you were okay. His heart ached remembering the broken look in your eyes yesterday when he didn’t know who you were and how distraught you looked with the doctors and nurses earlier.

He wished he would have had the thought to ask Phoenix for your phone number. He had no idea where his own cell phone was, but the old corded phone in the hospital room could certainly dial out if he needed to reach you.

He wondered if this same sense of longing had happened so quickly the first time around, too.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he thought about you, but his ears picked up on hurried footsteps making their way to his door. They barely paused before it was thrown open, but grabbed before it could hit off the wall.

The tightness in his chest eased when he saw you. You paused in the doorway when you saw he was awake and looking at you.

You looked more frazzled than he had ever seen you, not that that was a lot, but it still unsettled him.

“Are you-”

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted, making your way into the room after you gently closed the door, almost as to make up for your brash opening of it. The notion almost made him smile. “I went home to take a shower so you could talk to Nat and I ended up falling asleep. I didn’t mean to be gone for this long.”

“It’s alright,” he assured you, but the frazzled look didn’t go away. Seeing it made him forget all about how distraught he almost was that you weren’t here. “Try and convince me differently all you want, but I bet an actual bed was a lot better than this chair. I’m glad you got some sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and it made him feel something akin to pride to be the cause of it.

The smile slipped after a moment. You twisted your ring on your finger, your eyes cautious. You looked small, and he didn’t like that. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Your doctor, he uh, he told me I should give you some space. That I might be overwhelming for you? But I didn’t want you to be alone. That’s why I had Nat come, but non-family members can’t stay overnight so…”

A flash of anger hit them then. He had known when you walked back into his hospital room when the doctor had requested your presence outside that he had said something to you. He should have known after he had made the comment about you leaving the room during his consultation that it was something to do with that.

“He didn’t have a right to say that to you.”

“Bradley-“

“Just because I don’t remember you doesn’t mean you don’t exist,” he said, his voice firm, and he heard the breath you sucked in.

His tone softened with his next words, “And even if I don’t understand it, I want you here. I mean…as long as you still want to be?”

It didn’t occur to him, before, that maybe this was too much for you. He was your husband who had been in the hospital for a week who woke up not remembering who you were. Maybe you needed some space. But you were nodding your head before he could overthink it too much.

“I do. I told you, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. But I want to do what’s going to be best for you more, okay? I know you don’t know me enough to trust me right now, but I need you to promise me that if it ever is too overwhelming for me to be here, you tell me, okay?”

That was the thing. He did trust you. It was a feeling deeply rooted in his bones that he could trust you with anything.

“I promise,” he said instead of telling you what he was really feeling. The emotions were too raw, too jumbled, and he hadn’t made sense of them yet.

“Alright,” you nodded. You finally made your way from where you had been standing at the end of his hospital bed over to the chair beside it. A pressure lifted off of him when you sat down.

Yes, he thought, that’s better.

“How was your visit with Phoenix?” you asked, kicking your tennis shoes off and curling your legs up underneath you. You were in another pair of black leggings and another oversized pullover, UPENN displayed across the front of the dark gray material. Your hair was down again, and he decided he liked how the color looked against your skin as you pushed it out of your eyes. You raised your eyebrows at him and he realized he must have been staring.

He cleared his throat, fighting off reddening cheeks. Damn.

“It was good,” he admitted. “She caught me up a lot; told me about being stationed out here and the squad we’re on. She kinda laid out the last four years of my career for me.”

“Congrats on your promotion,” you joked, and Bradley found himself letting out a surprised chuckle at your humor.

“Did she say anything specific? About the mission you were called for that got you stationed here?” you asked. Bradley shook his head.

“She didn’t go into many details. Why?” You let out a long, low breath, and Bradley felt his stomach knot. “Is there something else I should know about it?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “and it may not be easy for you to hear, but..well, it’s important. Kind of a big part of the last three years of your life.”

That could mean a lot of things. He tried to stamp down all the worst case scenarios that played around in his head and watched you fiddle with the phone in your hand. You paused, took a breath, and then handed it over to him. Your fingers brushed against his when you did and the spark it sent through him made him take a second to realize what it is he was looking at. His breath caught in his throat when he did.

Staring back at him was the two of you. You were both smiling, clearly happy, with you tucked into his side like you belonged there. On his other side, he had his arm thrown around the neck of someone he hadn’t seen in years. At least that he could remember. He couldn’t pinpoint what he was feeling. A decades worth of anger and bitterness, he supposed, but the underlying hurt and regret that he always tried to not acknowledge were there too. If he focused hard enough, there was even the smallest flicker of hope.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, still staring at the picture.

“You asked me earlier who Pete was, when you saw the name on my coffee cup,” you reminded him, “not many people call him that, but I do.”

You went on to tell him an abridged version of what sounded like a mission report. Mav was their mission leader and he was his wingman. He got shot down trying to save him, and Bradley disobeyed direct orders to go find him, where he was then shot down trying to save him. It ended fine. They clearly made it out, with some assistance, and had taken a lot of time to work through things. They had completely rebuilt their relationship in the last three years and by the looks of them in this picture, it was hard not to believe you when you said they were stronger than ever.

“I know how badly he hurt you, and that hearing this might bring up those feelings,” you whispered, your voice sympathetic but not pitying, which was something he appreciated more than he could say, “but the two of you love each other so much. When the time came, you were ready to forgive him. It may be hard to believe, but I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I promise. He’s family. To both of us.”

“He’s been here?” Bradley brought himself to ask, and though he already knew the answer based on the sharpied evidence on a plastic coffee cup, the nod you gave him in response winded him.

“Everyday,” you confirmed.

Bradley nods slowly, processing your words.

“I don’t…know that I’m ready to see him,” he finally said.

“That’s okay,” you assured him immediately, “you don’t have to right now. But I didn’t want to keep it from you, okay? I don’t want to keep anything from you.”

He looked away from the phone he had been staring at to meet your eyes, and he knew that you were being sincere. Your eyes were earnest, your expression open, and he was blown away that anyone so beautiful would look at him like that. He let out a breath that was shakier than he would want to admit before he handed your phone back to you.

“Are you tired?” you asked him, and he shrugged his shoulders. He was, truthfully, but this was the longest conversation the two of you have had; he wasn’t ready for it to end.

“Tell me something else,” he said instead.

“What would you like to know?” you asked, clicking your phone off and setting it on the table near his bed.

“You,” he said instantly, not needing any time to think and not second guessing his honesty, “I want to know you. Us.”

Your smile was shy, and your cheeks bloomed again, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as you nodded. His heart raced in his chest again. “Alright.”

______

Listening to your voice had quickly become one of his favorite things. The two of you talked for a long time that night, and he grasped onto every detail you gave him.

You were a few years younger than him. You worked in journalism, covering politics and policy, for the most part completely remote from your home here in San Diego. You grew up in Philadelphia (the Eagles sweatshirt was yours) and were the only child of only children. You weren’t overly close with your parents, but you didn’t seem bothered by it, either. You loved spicy food and sour beers, and things always got a little interesting when you indulged in too much white wine. You had adopted Florence, the adorable brown tabby that you proudly showed him pictures of, when you moved to DC all on your own, and Bradley was apparently the only man the cat tolerated.

The two of you hosted board game nights or dinner parties on a regular basis, and it had surprisingly only ended in a physical fight between him and Hangman once in the last three years.

The night nurse came in for her rounds and was surprised to see him still awake, but he refused additional pain medication when she offered it because he wasn’t ready for how they would inevitably put him to sleep.

He wanted to know everything about you.

“Tell me how we met?” He requested.

Your smile was soft, like you liked how the memory made you feel.

“We were both subjected to the ‘single guest with no date’ table at a wedding,” you revealed. Bradley wracked his brain and remembered a save the date he had sloppily stuck to his fridge in his DC apartment. He asked if that was the one you were referencing and your smile grew as you confirmed it.

“We met in Philadelphia?”

“We did,” you laughed, “which is incredibly ironic, considering we were both living in DC at the time.”

It sounded more like fate, but Bradley kept those thoughts to himself for now.

“Did I ask you to dance?” he asked, almost certain of the answer considering where they ended up years later, but to his surprise, you shook your head. His eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” you swore with a chuckle.

“I was at the same table with you and I didn’t even ask you to dance?”

You threw your head back with a full laugh, and Bradley was sure if they pulled the data from the monitor he was still hooked up to, it would show that his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“The rest of the people at the table were admittedly not that nice, and when we realized that we weren’t that bad, we ended up escaping and sitting outside at one of the cocktail hour tables for the majority of the night.”

He wished he could remember what you looked like that night. He wondered what color dress you wore, and if you had your hair up or down, when he was apparently not dancing with you.

“That seems like a crime,” you flushed at the words he mumbled mostly to himself.

It was difficult for him to comprehend that he had someone in his life like you, but it wasn’t hard at all to see how he fell in love with you as quickly as he must have. You were beautiful outwardly, but he was seeing you were even more so inwardly, as well. You were funny and witty and kept him on his toes, and he was sure he hadn’t even scratched the surface of you yet.

The more he learned, the more infatuated he became.

It was nearing two in the morning when your yawning became more frequent amongst your conversation. Watching your face scrunch up every time it happened was adorable, and he wondered if you were as unwilling to go to sleep as he was. The bubble of storytelling you had found yourself in was warm and comforting, but he finally took pity when you started rubbing your eyes under your glasses. The urge to somehow take care of you was brewing inside of him. He wanted to be selfish, but he had kept you up long enough.

“We should get some sleep,” he murmured. Your hair fell in your eyes when you nodded and he found himself wanting to tuck it behind your ear for you.

“Are you in any pain?” you asked. You were worrying for him, despite how tired you obviously were. He had been shown more concern in the last 48 hours than he could remember getting in the last decade; his heart ached at the thought.

“It’s not so bad right now.”

“I can get the nurse.” You were already rising to do so, and before he could stop himself, he reached out to grab your arm. You froze from your position half raised out of the chair. Your wide eyes flickered down to his hand before meeting his again.

Bradley swallowed deeply, but didn’t let go. He couldn’t stop his thumb from gently rubbing your skin through the thick material of your sweatshirt.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, “promise.”

The breath you let out was shaky, but you nodded. Without disconnecting from him, you pulled your chair just the slightest bit closer to his bed with your other hand, but you didn’t move to sit down yet. Instead, you took a step closer and leaned down to press a gentle kiss against his forehead. Your scent invaded his senses and he suddenly felt dizzy again for a completely different reason. You lingered for a moment and he reveled in it.

“Thank you,” he didn’t quite know what he was thanking you for, but he needed to say it. His voice was thick all of a sudden, feeling overwhelmed with the influx of emotions he was feeling.

You just smiled at him, and he released the hold he had on your arm so you could settle back into the chair that had become your temporary residence for the last week.

“Goodnight, Bradley.”

-------

Notes: Things are starting to pick up with these two! The next part is when we really get into the fun stuff, I think :)

Tagging those who asked or interacted. I think I caught everyone, but I'm very new to this so apologies if I missed you! Please let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off this list :)

Tag List: @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun @avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

@kassieesworld - @luckylexie - @lovemesomevesey - @mizzzpink - @books-for-summer - @a-serene-place-to-be - @deviltsunoda - @tv-fanatic18 - @memoriesat30 - @melody-death - @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog - @dabisblackprincess - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @realdirectionx - @waywardhunter95 - @myownworstenemyyy - @sexualparkour - @sadpetalsstuff - @almostgenerallyalways - @hawsx3 - @nogoodchamberskid - @alilstressyandlotdepressy - @ebonyhogan24 - @14readwritedraw96 - @ccbb2222 - @taytaylala12 - @haideehaids - @alittlechaotics-blog - @starkleila

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #Bradley bradshaw fic #alli writes #Bradley bradshaw x female reader

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 months

Text

after an extra busy weak covering things at the hotel so the morningstars can have some family time, vaggie wakes up with a blinding stress headache and charlie whisks her back into bed to rest because she, charlie, can TOTALLY manage the hotel on her own for one day! 100% there is nothing to worry about!

vaggie is worried. she has all the faith in her girlfriend and none left over for the other hotel residents. charlie spins it as 'please rest? for me??' request though so she let's herself be kept in their room listening to Very Concerning Noises from outside as charlie pops in regularly to bring snacks and smile tensely and swear things are completely fine she just felt like setting part of her suit on fire today! vaggie's not convinced. vaggie's headache is getting worse. around dinner time charlie is late checking in with her and then from somewhere below charlie is yelling FUCK!!! and vaggie is out of bed armed and downstairs in three murderously angelic wing flaps

there used to be a wall between the main hall and the kitchen.

there isn't anymore, so she can see exactly when everyone freezes in place and stares back at her.

what, she askes, are they doing. charlie tries to laugh and say nothing nothing just cooking but she's also got her horns out and alastor in a headlock, so vaggie turns to angel dust instead.

why is the wall missing? because cherri is here helping. why is there an empty wine bottle next to the ominously bubbling pot? because husk is helping. why is angel's ass on the countertop? because looking pretty is how he's helping. why is niffy stirring the ominous wine goop with a knife- no it's niffy never mind. why is one of sir pretentious' eggs teetering on the edge of the pot as if about to dive in? because alastor is here NOT helping

why, then, is ANY of this happening....? because everyone was bored, no one had been threatened at the end of a spear all day, they followed charlie into the kitchen and heard vaggie was sick. so.

the thing in the pot, charlie admits weakly as her hold on alastor's neck tightens, was supposed to be soup, to help her get better. sooner. bc charlie can run the hotel alone for a day but oh she REALLY doesn't want to.

vaggie checks the soup. the only way it's curing her headache is by making her dead. charlie drops alastor and droops dejectedly only to see vaggie smiling, a glint in her eye. everyone who is not charlie tries to edge away but it's too late- they are all going to obey their new kitchen commanding officer and follow her orders on how to actually make soup or they're gonna wish THEY were the ones being chopped up and caramelized on the bottom of a cooking pot (no niffty, you can't volunteer) (no angel, boosting moral is not a valid contribution, get off your ass and wipe down the counter top)

a few hours later dinner is raging with everyone fighting over second helpings (except alastor who's prodding his cooked food with a grin of horror) and vaggie leans in to thank charlie quietly. what for, charlie asks? for not telling everyone that the only 'sick' vaggie had really been was sick of them. she's feeling a lot better now. they're not so bad, really.... or at least they're kinda worth it anyway

charlie smiles softly. she'd almost let the truth slip when she'd gotten kinda sick of them too, at the point when they all crowed into the kitchen after her- then she'd realized they wanted to know why vaggie hadn't been around and had maybe been causing such a ruckus because they missed her, a little bit

they share a proud moment, gently holding hands. then they duck as alastor static shrieks and throws his soup across the room, revealing the egg bois who'd been soaking at the bottom of it like a hot tub

tomorrow it'll be charlie who stays in bed all day with a headache

#hazbin hotel #chaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #alastor the radio demon #angel dust #niffty #husk #cherri bomb #im my mind they are all one big blob of chaos that might have a good intention buried in it somewhere among the smoldering wreckage #of vaggie's sanity #“imagine a chaggie kid-” they don't need kids they have several fully grown housemates to keep alive

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luveline · 2 years

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jade,,,, what about eddie and reader finally getting to go on a date alone and then roan gets sick so they take care of her

omg yes !! single dad eddie finally gets a proper date, but poor roan has other ideas (or her germs do) tw sickness ♡ fem!reader

Eddie realises most people would be excited to go on a date without their kid.

He likes you so much — to the point of a headache, sometimes. He isn't worried about how you'll be, he's worried about himself. He's worried that, without his daughter there between you, there won't be much left to look at. Eddie hopes that he's a good dad, and if he isn't his attempts are at the very least endearing (or entertaining).

Without Roan to look after, he's not sure there's much of him that you'll like. That you'll work together without her.

It's an agonising thought. It has him scowling the entire day, to Wayne's amusement, who shakes him by the shoulders an hour before his shift ends and says, "Son, you best go home. S'gonna take an hour to scrub the wrinkles from your forehead."

"You'll cover for me?" he asks.

"No, I raised you for the better part of my life to abandon you to your own defenses now, Eddie. Get lost."

He rushes home. Odd, to do so without Roan. To shower by himself without Roan finding a hundred different reasons to let herself into the bathroom. To get dressed without her sitting in the middle of his bed criticising his choices.

Not blue, daddy. Too sad.

Eddie's hardly a man with an abundance of evening wear. He shrugs on a pair of dark corduroys, the fashion and not to his taste, and a boxy sweatshirt that shows too much skin if he lifts his arms. He decides not to lift his arms. Then he panics about lifting his arms, and if you'll care if he does, and he's still worrying about it when he gets in the car.

By the time he's idling outside your house his worries have changed to Roan. Around now Wayne will be picking her up, which she already knows is happening and isn't very happy about because she knows exactly why Eddie isn't picking her up himself. He assumes that's why she'd been so fussy this morning, had barely touched her breakfast. Or maybe...

Three knocks against the window startle him.

Your laugh floats in as he opens it, a pitying, sorry thing. "Eddie, I'm so sorry! I wasn't trying to scare you, I swear."

You're breathless with laughter and stunningly fresh-faced, leaning toward his window with a smile.

"It's okay," he says, "I'll get you back, though."

You make a sweet noise, an Is that so?

"Get in, chickadee. Places to go, people to see."

"Really?" You walk around the hood in your soft clothes and he watches each step with a dawning sense of awe, worse when you climb in the front seat and say, "Hi, handsome," while leaning across the console.

You kiss his cheek and leave behind both the shape of your lips in balm over the skin and the lingering stick of your pretty perfume.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

Where indeed. Eddie refuses to answer, struggling to bite back a smug smile for the few minutes it takes to get there. You gasp as you arrive, your favourite restaurant a flickering, neon beacon among its fellow greasy competitors.

Your pleasure is obvious and infectious. It buffets you all the way to the reservation, where you look down at your menu with your foot tapping against the floor in excitement. Eddie nudges your leg with his shoe carefully and you take it for something else, a game of footsie. Your smile nears amorous. Eddie feels his heart like a buzzing amp in his chest, all electricity, all loud.

You chatter through ordering and you giggle through your entrée, slinking down in your chair to rub the length of your shoe across his thigh. He grabs your foot and tugs, and you both burst into laughter as you almost topple to the floor.

He beams at you and thinks, Oh, thank fuck. We work. We work.

He's listening to you talk about Lord of the Rings of all things and wondering when it's okay to kiss you silly — "I hope you know I'm only suffering through this mega marathon for you, Eddie," — when somebody calls out, "Phone for Munson?"

It's like ice being tipped down the back of his shirt. He stands immediately and searches the room for the phone, a landline toward the front of the restaurant by the desk. He'd told Wayne exactly where he'd be tonight and made sure the place had a public phone because though he trusts Wayne to look after Roan completely, he still wants to know if something happens. As soon as something happens.

"Sorry, Eds. Think you might need to double back," his uncle says down the line.

Eddie clutches the receiver. He can hear Roan in the background, her slow sobs. "What happened?"

"She chucked up in the car. Then when we got home. Again when she was showering. You might need to buy some lysol, kid. And a new rug."

He sighs and rubs both eyebrows with the side of his hand, eyes closed. Your hand, warm and soft, lands against his shoulder.

"Alright. I'll come home."

"Sorry, kid. Wouldn't call, but she's begging for you."

"Uh-huh. No, it's okay. Think I should talk to her?"

"Just get home. Safe. No racing. And I'm not kidding about the lysol."

He hangs up, turning to you with a sorry already on the tip of his tongue.

Your thumb presses into his arm reassuringly. "Curfew?"

Some of his worry abates. "Sick bug."

"Oh no," you say sadly, "poor baby. She misses you so much she's made herself sick." While you're teasing, there's not a hint of cruelty in your voice.

He wants to smile at you. You deserve a great smile, a kiss, something to show how much he appreciates your unending light. He can't, he finds, because he feels like an idiot. A regretful, embarrassed idiot. He lifts his chin and meets your gaze. "I'm sorry," he murmurs sincerely, chasing down your arm to hold your hand.

"Don't be."

"I am. We never get any time alone."

You bite your lip for what could only be a half a second before you stop. "I don't really mind, Eddie. This is- You know I always have fun with you. More than that..." Your turn to look bashful. "Well, you know how I feel about you."

He doesn't. He doesn't have a clue in the world, but it's enough of a suggestion that he squeezes your hand, works his thumb over the back of it.

"Daddy!" Roan cheers, her little voice hoarse and wrought with tears.

It smells like sick. The windows have been opened and there's a sharp smell of bleach, but it definitely smells like sick. You follow behind Eddie, find who must be his Eddie's Uncle Wayne sitting on the sofa with a tiny ball of sadness in his lap. Said ball unfurls, arms already outstretched for her dad.

Wayne gets up with a groan and creak. He's a tall but lean man quite like his nephew, and he settles you with a similar sort of smile as he approaches.

"Hi. You gotta be Y/N."

"That's me. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Munson," you say, nervous but trying to hide it.

"Just Wayne, kid."

Piercing laughter. You and Wayne both turn to watch Roan's happy giggling as Eddie heaves her up high to blow a raspberry in her neck before cuddling her.

"My girl," he says, adoring, pitying, a mixture of things as he pats her back, "what happened? Didn't eat too much at snack time, did you?"

"My tummy was hurting," she denies his accusation.

"At breakfast? Why didn't you say?"

She shrugs and hides her face in the curve of his neck. Their hair is so close in colour that you can't tell where hers ends and his begins.

Eddie sighs sympathetically and looks up over her head at you and his uncle. "Well, Uncle Wayne took great care of you. Do you want to give him a kiss before he goes home?"

She moans.

"Fine by me. Don't wanna chuck up over the pool table. Bye, hellspawn." Wayne laughs at his own joke and then squeezes your arm amicably. "Bye, sweetheart."

"Oh," you startle. He's already out the door and down the steps by the time you say, "Bye!"

"Don't worry about it. He never says a proper goodbye. And he has a sensitive stomach."

You turn back to Eddie and Roan with a huge smile. "He's really nice. But not as nice as you, lovely girl," you croon, almost tripping over yourself to meet them.

Roan doesn't fight your affection, but you're not very sure she wants it. She hides in her dad's hair and turns to look at you with a sluggish smile. You extend your hand. When neither Eddie nor Roan move to stop you, you stroke down her hot cheek with the back of your middle finger.

"I'm sorry I stole your daddy when you needed him," you whisper.

"It's okay," Roan croaks back.

"It is?"

She doesn't answer again. You take her gracious answer and stroke the damp hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. You want to ask her for a kiss because you desperately want to give her one. You hesitate.

Maybe you shouldn't overstep so much like this into famiy stuff.

You drop your hand and smile. It's not a great smile in your opinion, but it's one Eddie should be used to by now. Too earnest, awkward, genuine. You clamp your mouth shut and wince.

"And how terribly she fared without me," Eddie drawls, kiss kiss kissing over the stretch of her face and down to her neck, where he blows another raspberry.

She laughs again. She sounds sick as she is, but she's still Roan. Her laugh could turn a bad mood good after a single peel.

"Daddy," she mumbles, eyes slightly less bleary than before. "Better kiss."

He hums. "Guess I'm either gonna get sick or I'm not," he says, and kisses her.

Roan smiles and then turns to you with the same command. "Kiss."

"Sweetheart, I don't think she-"

"Yes, please," you say, anchoring yourself on Eddie's shoulder. You lean in, needle your face into the gap, and kiss her warm cheek.

"Good enough?" you ask her.

"No," she says, in that cheeky voice that really means Yes, but I want another one.

"What if you get sick?" Eddie asks as you deliver another kiss.

You tickle under Roan's chin and avoid his eye. "Guess you'll have to take care of me."

"If I get sick, too?"

"Then we'll all be sick," you say simply.

He kisses the top of your head. "As dogs," he agrees.

You think his looking after you wouldn't be such a bad thing.

more eddie and roan

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie and roan

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skyward-floored · 2 months

Text

Febuwhump collab day 12 — semi-conscious

This one’s been on ao3 for a bit I just sort of forgot to put it over here XD This one was suggested by @zeldathusiast, I hope you all enjoy!

No specific warnings apart from a mentioned kidnapping/being held captive, and a bad headache.

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

————————————————————

“He has to be here somewhere, right? That tip we got said he’d be here, but maybe they were wrong, Dad kept being vague on where he got it so I don’t know if we can totally trust it, and we should be prepared to get out of here if it’s a trap and if it was wrong we should plan to check that other—”

“Green, we’ll find him, alright?” Twilight reassured for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Don’t worry.”

Green’s mouth clicked shut, and he gave Twilight a tiny nod.

Twilight watched him turn away, the shadows under his eyes more prominent in the harsh artificial lighting they were sneaking past, and felt a familiar squeeze of worry at the similar expressions on the other colors’ faces.

Four had been split almost a week now, and with Red gone missing during a fight, he couldn’t reform.

Four had never been apart for so long, and that along with the panic of not knowing what was happening to Red, he was acting more and more strange, the remaining pieces of him veering more sharply towards what they represented.

Green had been getting more jittery, obsessing over Red’s whereabouts, and acting overly protective over the other two, which was driving them both crazy. Vio had turned to research and often closed himself away, poring over what information they had, and Blue would blow up at even the smallest slight, face red with tears in his eyes.

Twilight could only imagine the state Red was in.

The behavior grew more severe with every passing day, and while nobody said it, as they watched the colors fall apart they all silently wondered how long Four could even be split.

Did he have a limit? Was he nearing it?

And if he reached it..?

Nobody wanted to find out, and their efforts towards locating Red had only gotten more desperate as the days ticked by. All of them were worried and frightened on Four’s behalf, and Twilight knew he wasn’t the only one who was thinking back to that first terrifying week when Sky had gone missing, and stayed missing.

But Time had finally gotten some information that narrowed down where Red could be, to only a few places as compared to the entire city they’d been scouring before.

Which is why Twilight was now sneaking down a harshly lit hallway with a handful of his brothers, trying not to be consumed by worry while they searched.

“We close?” Twilight asked, and Legend nodded, gesturing to an upcoming split path.

“He should be in one of these hallways somewhere, but they’re pretty long. It might take us a while to actually find him,” Legend said with a frown. “...With time we don’t have. We should’ve brought Wild.”

“Well it’s too late now,” Blue snapped from beside him, his hands tightening into fists. “Why didn’t you think of that before we left?!”

“Well sor-ry, Wild’s checking that other place with Dad and Wind, twerp, I didn’t know we’d need him,” Legend snapped back.

“Guys, knock it off,” Twilight said sharply. Good grief, we’re all running on way too little sleep. “We’ll just split up into groups of two.”

“There’s five of us,” Vio pointed out.

“I know that Vio, I meant you and Legend and Green and Blue can pair up, and I’ll go by myself.”

“That seems like a bad idea,” Vio continued with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you always saying it’s better we stick together?”

Twilight took in a steadying breath at his snarky tone, ignoring the urge to be sarcastic in return. “Yes, but not in this case.”

“Why don’t we three just go together, and you and Legend team up?” Green suggested, and Twilight and Legend exchanged short glances.

“...No. Better we do duos,” Legend said, and jerked his head towards a hallway. “C’mon. Let’s get going. Come with me Blue, Green and Vio can check the opposite end from us. Twi can check the other hall.”

Twilight nodded when nobody argued, and they all split off, Twilight grateful that Legend would be able to see all of the colors from where he was.

There had been an unspoken rule as of late not to leave any of them alone. Not with how they’d been acting.

Twilight ran down his assigned hallway, peering through every door that had a window, and opening the ones that didn’t. They’d “borrowed” a keycard to use to get into the facilities, and managed to make copies so they could all get past the doors.

Twilight methodically checked every door, working steadily down the hallway. His worry grew the longer he didn’t find any sign of Red, and he picked up the pace, looking more frantically. He was nearly at the end of the corridor, and there’d been no sign anybody was down this way.

Are we sure that info was real? he thought as he approached the very last window in the hall. Mom hasn’t contacted us yet, so her group hasn’t found him... or maybe it was all faked just to give us false hope...

Twilight looked inside, and relief washed over him, intense and thick.

A little figure sat huddled against the wall inside, red clothes bright against the dull color of the room. His blond head was pressed to his knees with such an air of sadness that Twilight’s heart ached, and he quickly ran to the door.

It slid open with a quiet swish, but the figure didn’t move even with the sound, or when Twilight stepped inside.

“Red?” he called.

That made his little brother’s head snap up to stare at him, eyes wide and startled. His gaze landed on Twilight’s face, and his expression turned even more surprised, Red letting out a gasp as he jumped to his feet.

“Twilight!” he shrieked, and bolted, throwing himself into Twilight’s arms with a sob.

Twilight hugged him back just as fiercely, Red crying into his shoulder, and he quickly clicked a button on his radio four times, the signal they’d all agreed to use for “I found him”.

“We found you Smithy, you’re okay now, I got you,” Twilight soothed, his shirt steadily growing damp. “It’s okay. Are you hurt at all?”

“N-no,” Red hiccuped, face still pressed to Twilight’s shirt. “Th-they mostly left me alone, I d-don’t think they even wanted a-a hostage.”

Twilight squeezed him tighter. “I’m so sorry Red.”

Red didn’t reply, aside from another hiccuping sob.

Twilight knew they should get going, but he couldn’t bring himself to make Red move just yet, so he held him a little longer and just let him cry. Red’s louder sobs eventually petered out, and Twilight gave him a comforting pat on the back as Red finally sat up a little, still sniffling.

“Twi, is e-everyone else here?” Red finally asked, letting out a hiccup. “I-I don’t want to be separate anymore.”

“Yeah they came, they’re close by,” Twilight reassured, and Red visibly relaxed, though he still looked upset.

“It was awful being away from them so long,” he whimpered. “It felt...”

He swallowed and didn’t continue, and Twilight gave him a squeeze.

“Well if we want to get you back together, we should get going,” he said, and Red eagerly nodded, wiping his sleeve over his face.

Twilight helped him up, and then turned into a wolf, gesturing for Red to hop on. He gladly did, and they ran went back the way Twilight had come, opting less for sneakiness and more for pure speed. Twilight didn’t want Red to have to wait a second longer than necessary to be back with the other parts of himself, and he loped down the hallways as fast as he could without slipping on the shiny floors.

Red in turn clung tightly to his fur, his head not quite buried in it. Twilight could just barely feel Red’s tears dampening his fur as he sniffled again, and his stomach clenched, even with the relief pounding through him.

The part of Twilight, the more wolffish part of him that longed to protect had been going haywire all week, and even now that he had Red secure on his back, it still bayed for justice.

Twilight ignored it. He was pretty sure Red’s captors were long gone, and going after them now wouldn’t be productive in any way. Even if he wanted to demand answers as to why they’d grabbed a nine year old and locked him in a room for a week.

No. Red safe and secure on his back was plenty for now, and as he firmly told himself that, the wolf began to calm.

Though he knew it wouldn’t completely settle until they were all back together and safe at home again.

Twilight turned a corner near where he and the rest of the group had split up, and Red sat up and shouted, pointing excitedly down the hall. The rest of the colors were already making their way towards them, but they all zeroed in at Red’s shout, relief on all three faces.

“RED!” Blue yelled, and all three of them bolted, Red leaping off Twilight’s back and crashing into them with a happy cry.

All four of them began chattering simultaneously, asking questions and crying and in Blue’s case, giving Red a punch on the arm that wasn’t as hard as it could have been.

Twilight smiled in relief as they huddled together, turning back into a human, and realized that the rest of the team they had brought was coming up behind them, Legend Hyrule and their mother all looking extremely relieved.

“Red— never do that again,” Green said as they hugged, and Red nodded rapidly.

“I won’t! I won’t, it wasn’t even on purpose, they just grabbed me, a-and I couldn’t get away, and nobody heard me yell,” Red said in a watery voice, and Vio gave him a soft pat on the head.

“Well you’re okay now, you don’t have to cry,” Blue grumbled, but his arm didn’t leave Red’s shoulder.

The colors didn’t talk any longer after that, only hugging a few moments more before they began to glow, unable to wait a second longer to reform. A pulse of multicolored light shone around the hallway, bouncing off the pale walls, and Twilight had to look away until it began to dim.

Four stood alone, his eyes closed as the last of the glow faded away.

Then he doubled over with his hands clenched to his head, face twisted up in pain. Twilight darted forward and caught him before he fell, and Four whimpered in his arms, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Four, hey, what’s wrong?” Twilight asked, trying not to panic.

Four flinched at his words, and the sound of the others running up as well, and tried to curl into a ball, still clenching at his hair.

“What’s wrong with him?” Legend asked with wide eyes.

“Four, are you okay?” Hyrule asked, and Four only let out another whimper.

“Give him some space,” Malon said, and they slid back a bit, giving her room to kneel by Four. She placed a gentle hand on his back, and rubbed it as Four let out a pitiful groan. “Four? Honey are you okay?”

Four only groaned again, and Hyrule scooted over and set a glowing hand on his head, eyes closed in concentration. But he withdrew after a moment, gaze slightly bewildered.

”His head is fine, I didn’t see anything,” he said, and Twilight frowned.

“Did they do something just to Red then?” Twilight asked, trying to keep his voice calm and only partially succeeding. “That would hurt him when he merged?”

“I don’t... think so?” Hyrule said. He sounded uncertain though, and wrung his hands a bit.

“Seriously? We would have noticed if they’d done something,” Legend shot at Twilight.

“How do you know?” Twilight answered just as sharply. “It might not be physical!”

“Well maybe he’s just—”

“Boys shh, you’re hurting him,” Malon said a bit sharply, and they went silent, another quiet whimper from Four the only noise. “Four? Can you tell us what’s wrong?”

Four dragged his eyes open, and Twilight stared, the normal blue of his eyes completely overrun by jagged swirls of red, green, and purple, blue scattered throughout. As he watched, the red got larger, and Four flinched, once again slamming his eyes shut and falling mostly limp in Twilight’s arms.

“Four, we can’t help unless we know what’s wrong,” Twilight tried, running a hand through his hair.

Please Four, can you give us something?

A few long moments ticked by, Four’s shaky breathing the only sound in the bright hallway. Finally Four breathed out, the noise hitching in the middle, and his fingers tightened in his hair.

“T-too— much,” he finally bit out, voice hitching and wavering. “M-Memories, different—”

Four pressed his head tighter against Twilight’s chest, his breathing trembling. He let out another small groan, and Twilight ran a helpless hand over his hair as he tried to curl himself up even tighter.

“Oh. I get it,” Legend said quietly, and they all looked at him inquisitively. Legend sighed. “Look, he was split all that time, right? Normally getting back together is no big deal for him, even if it’s been a little while. But his experiences as Green, Blue, and Vio this time were so vastly different from Red’s that when he reformed...”

“...all of those stark different memories got put in one head,” Malon finished, and ran a gentle hand through Four’s hair again. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

Twilight wasn’t sure if Four even heard her, with the way he was curled up in a ball, hands still clenching at his head, face screwed shut in a wince.

“Can we help him?” Hyrule asked, and Malon looked uncertain.

“I don’t know, hon. It looks to me like he’ll just need some time to adjust,” she said, gently running her hand through Four’s hair. “Is there any way we can help, Four?”

Four didn’t say anything in reply, but he gave a tiny, pained shake of his head.

“We should get him home then, right?” Twilight spoke up, trying not to sound overly worried despite how fast his heart was still pounding. “If he just needs to adjust. He’ll be able to rest better there, and we need to get out of here anyway.”

Malon nodded, and Twilight scooped Four up into his arms, relieved his brother was fairly lightweight. Four curled into his hold, face still drawn with pain, and Twilight held him tight as they worked their way back towards the exit.

Somehow zero alarms had been triggered by their presence, and Twilight was starting to suspect the place had been abandoned what with how silent and empty it was. The fact that that meant the people who’d kidnapped Red had basically abandoned him here all alone was enough to reawaken the protectiveness in Twilight’s chest with a snarl, and this time he only half-heartedly reeled it in.

For their sakes, they had better not show their faces again anytime soon.

“Tw-i..?”

Several minutes of the trek had gone by before the whisper came from Twilight’s arms, and he looked down at Four, still limp in his hold.

“Yeah bud?”

“Thanks,” Four whispered into his shirt, and though he didn’t elaborate, Twilight knew what he meant.

“You’re welcome,” Twilight replied gently, and Four tucked his face against his neck, the pained creases on his face slightly eased.

#Incredibles au #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu four #lu colors #lu twilight #lu legend #hyrule and malon are there but don’t do much #linked universe fanfic #febuwhump #day 12 #semi conscious #writing from the floor #Incredibles au fic

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