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ahundredtimesover · 20 days

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I Want You to Stay (11) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count: 23.5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

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

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

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

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

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

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

“I—” he mumbles.

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

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

But the thought doesn’t last long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh to yourself. He’ll live.

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

“___.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“___.”

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

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

“Yes, sir. I was just making sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s noted, sir.”

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

He enters his room then turns around to face Yoongi.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” He asks in anticipation.

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

“There really is,” Namjoon nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things like what?” Mr. Ri asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was rushing,” he explains.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook looks at his cousin questioningly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But still, you don’t.

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

“You haven’t looked at me all week.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know that?” He interjects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither am I.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you give Mr. Ri permission.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She— what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did… did he hurt them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I claimed self-defense and I—”

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

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

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

“I did,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I still do.”

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ms. Cho, please come to my office.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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brailsthesmolgurl · 20 days

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WHERE'S MUMMY? PT.2

My first part has received an amazing amount of response, hence I decided that I would come out with a part two, and who knows? Maybe this could be another mini series for the boys? :)))) Regardless, enjoy the read!

Warnings: Comfort and Fluff, Slight Angst for some parts. Mentions of smexy times for one, suggestive for another. ANONS ARE POOPY SOMETIMES BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL STOP WRITING SUGGESTIVE HAHA :(

RAFAYEL & MARIELA

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Mariela's voice could be heard from the other room at the end of the hallway as she called out to her father. Rafayel, who was busy working on one of his art pieces, dashed towards her room at full speed, panicking at how she was calling out to him. He slammed the door open, claymore ready to be withdrawn only to find his daughter on the floor, with paint all over her face and the canvas that he had provided to her.

One may ask why did Rafayel left his daughter all alone in her room while he was working on his art piece. Rafayel, being a good father, had coaxed his daughter for 30 minutes, with candies and also anything she could possibly want, only to be rejected by her. Her adamant 'NO's made Rafayel confused as to why she would want to paint alone in her room. 'I can do this myself daddy' was the last sentence she told him before she closed the door. And he wondered where she got the attitude from, and he had a good guess probably inherited from her independent mother.

So Rafayel sat at the living room, in his usual thinking corner, painting his artwork, but also carefully listening to anything that might go on in the room. He did tried and checked up on her a couple of minutes ago, knocking on her door and asking if she would like any biscuits with milk but the young child only replied 'NO' as if that is the only word she knew for the morning.

"I thought something happened to you, my little fishie." Rafayel sighed in relief, walking over to her to look at what she had drawn. He took a seat next to her and looked at her face. "How did you managed to get paint on both the canvas and your face?" He pulled the little girl into his lap and he chuckled, using his thumb to try and rub the paint off of her face and luckily it came off pretty easily. He silently thanked your effort in purchasing non-toxic paints for Mariela.

"I wanted to do it like how daddy do it." Her smile was angelic, one of Rafayel's trademark. She reenacted how she did it, by drawing air circles on her palm and on her face. "I drew here, and here and..." She flattened her palms and plopped her face onto the surface of her palms. Rafayel was in shock at her creativity.

"So you used your hands and your face as tools to draw?" He tilted his head and when the toddler nodded giddily, Rafayel pinched her cherubic cheeks. "You are an artist just like me. No wonder you're my daughter." He kissed her cheeks and carried her up in his arms. "Now, let's get you washed up and then we will show this piece to mummy when she is back from work okay?"

"OKAY!" She cheered, both arms flying up into the air and Rafayel laughed, bringing her into the bathroom to wash her off from the mess she had brought upon herself.

The roars of your motorbike could be heard and that led Mariela to jump off of the couch, with Rafayel catching up behind her quickly. "Mummy's home!" Mariela was elated, trying to turn the door knob the best she could but with her size and strength, she is not able to. Rafayel came to the rescue on time and he opened the door, smiling when he spotted you getting off of your motorbike and unclasping the buckle of your helmet, swiftly removing the headgear and placing it on your motorbike's seat. "Mummy!"

"Hey there sweetie!" You called out and shuffled over, arms wide opened and your daughter embraced you within your arms. "How was your day today hmm?"

The latter question of yours was directed towards your husband, who was standing against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his torso while watching both of his favourite women walking towards him. "It was good because there is a surprise." He winked at you and you both shared a peck, before heading in. "Mariela, do you want to show mummy what you drawn today?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" The little girl wriggled out of your arms smoothly and she waddled off to her room. You took a seat on the marble floor and awaited for your daughter's return. Rafayel taking a seat right next to you and he encircled his arms around your waist, giving your side a soft knead. The soft sound of thuds closing in when your daughter came out from her room, with something behind her back. "Mummy close your eyes."

Your husband then got behind you and he used his palms to cover your eyes, nodding towards your daughter to proceed further. Mariela pulled the canvas out from behind her and she placed it in your lap, before taking your hand cautiously and put it on her canvas. Rafayel released his hold on your face and you looked down, gasping in surprise at what your daughter had managed to colour on her canvas. But, you can't make out any shapes or sizes, other than two hand prints of hers and what seems to be an imprint of your daughter's face.

"This is so nice of you sweetie." You pulled her in for a hug and kissed her head. "Did you do this with your hands and face?" You asked just to be sure and her reaction made you stared at Rafayel. The actual artist staring back at you, shrugging his shoulders and muttering something along the lines of 'she did not want me to see what she was doing, so I left her to her own creativity'.

"Abstract art is great!" Rafayel smiled, ruffling his daughter's brunette curls which had grown a bit longer. "Daddy can put this in the next exhibition and you can go with me to see it." Rafayel looked at his daughter and she cheered, hugging you tightly and you beckoned your husband in for a hug as well.

On the day of the exhibition, Rafayel was busy attending to the guests, completing his interviews and taking pictures with his fans. You are spending time with Mariela, hand holding hers as the both of you walked through the exhibition halls. Pink and blue and purple, all colours within the same spectrum covered the walls in forms of splatters, lace ribbons were tapered to the ceilings, to add on a touch of elegance. No doubt your husband has 'extravagance' as his middle name.

Almost every corner is littered with his artworks, ranging from abstract to rough sketches, to impressionism paintings to sculptures. Rafayel is a master to all types of artworks, which gained him the fame and respect he has gotten till now. The wooden flooring resonated the sound of your footsteps, heels clacked against it in sync. You looked down at your daughter to notice the little girl has her mouth agaped, staring at all of her father's artworks in awe. Same, Mariela, same.

"Is that the daughter he had mentioned about?" A distant voice could be heard echoing from the end of the hallway and you turned around, seeing a woman clad in a formal outfit, hair neatly tied back and a microphone in her hand. A camera man right behind of her with one of his huge video cameras situated on his shoulder. "Hi, can we do an interview?"

Out of politeness, you agreed, smiling and nodding your head and the reporter crew started to approach you and your daughter. You lowered yourself down to carry Mariela up into your arms so that she could be within the shot as well, assuming the reporter would like a word or two with the renowned artist's daughter.

"How would you describe living with Rafayel, a famous artist?" The reporter held out the mic to you, awaiting for your response.

"Uhm...living with Rafayel has always been a pleasant one, as he does take care of me and my daughter's needs." You replied, a smile coming forth. "He is a good husband and a good father."

"That is good to note. Rafayel sure do cares about you guys a lot. But, would you care to say that you fell in love with him because he is rich and famous?" The daring assumption made by the reporter made you scowled in 4k on the Linkon's National Television Network.

Your eyebrows are now knitted together, your facade of being nice slowly fading behind your rising annoyance. "No. I certainly do not and will never love him just because of his wealth and fame. I love him for the way he is."

"Fans had also mentioned that you do not seem to be a good example of a mother given you are a deepspace hunter yourself. Moreover, given the recent decrease in recruits, you had to take up double shifts to cover for the incident. What do you have to say regarding this?" The woman smirked, knowing she had struck a nerve in you. Her tone coated in layers of disdain and you can see it right through. This is a personal attack towards you and your family.

Before you could retort the question, you felt a hand on the small on your back and you turned around, your husband standing upright beside you. A look you knew all too well shown on his face. "Get out of my exhibition." The crew feigned innocence, looking at one another to mentally convince themselves that they had done nothing wrong other than doing their jobs. "Nobody disrespects my wife and my family like that. Be it fans or reporters or anyone else. SO you can kindly see yourself out before I call on my security guards." The edge of his lips curled into a cunning smirk. "Which I think might not look good on your company's reputation if they were to escort you guys out."

The bunch of strangers started dispersing out of the family's sight and you looked at Rafayel, who is quick to take Mariela off of your arms and into his. "Are you okay?" He ran the back of his hand across your cheek. "I am sorry, I should have been by your side the whole time." He apologised, putting the blame onto himself but you held his hand in yours, thumb rubbing comforting circles.

"Don't say that Rafayel. You were just doing what Thomas has asked of you. I can fend for myself if those remarks were thrown to me." You gave him a peck on your cheek. "Even if the day you end up being homeless and broke, I will still love you." You looked over to your daughter, who had cosied up to her father's neck, fast asleep.

"The same thing applies from me to you too, cutie." The use of the old nickname rolling off of the tip of his tongue made you bit your lip and you could not help but to smile, looking down at your heels. His finger lifted your chin up, and he pressed a kiss onto your lips lovingly in the middle of the exhibition hallway, ensuring that reporters who may be passing by would be able to catch a glimpse of his actual exhibition of love.

ZAYNE & LUMI & IVER

"Good morning." You could make out Zayne's husky voice and his weight was pressed up slightly against your back, a kiss then planted on your cheek. "Today is Lumi and Iver's presentation day. The one where they have to bring a parent along and to introduce them."

"Oh it's today?" You asked, yawning and stirring yourself to wake. You turned over to face your husband and you opened one eye. "I totally forgotten about it." Zayne smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You felt particularly tired because today is one of those rare off days you could get whenever Wanderer sightings are not reported as often, and perhaps, with the amount of lovemaking you had gone through with Zayne last night, it was a little hard for you to just jump out of bed and get ready for now.

"I can go on behalf on us as I do not need to be in the hospital today." He smoothed his hand over your hair, staring at you lovingly with those alluring hazel-green eyes of his. "So, take your time to rest, my love. You deserve it." Another kiss is pressed to your lips for a few seconds and he got out of bed, walking over to you to pull his side of blanket over your half naked body. "I don't want you to get a cold, so you may take my side of the blanket too."

You smiled warmly at him in return and managed to catch a glimpse of his toned physique when he walked towards the bathroom to wash himself up. Once he was done, he went over to the kids' room to wake them up. "Lumi, Iver. It's time to wake up." He said gently, pushing the curtains open to draw in the sunlight. The twins slowly stirred awake and they both sat up in their beds, in a half awake state.

"Morning daddy." Lumi spoke, with Iver saying the same exact greeting a few seconds behind. As if by routine, they both extended their arms out and Zayne picked both of them up in one-go, bringing them to the bathroom so they could get washed up and get dressed for school.

Pulling up at the twin's kindergarten, Zayne parked at the allocated parking lots for the parents and he got out of the car, immediately getting stares and comments from the bystanders in hushed whispers. Not only does he own a fancy car that most parents could not afford, but he is also extremely good looking. He popped the backseat's door open and escorted both of his kids into the kindergarten's premises.

Zayne sat on the floor, just like the other parents but it felt a little out of place for him as he was the only father who attended this event. The usual stigma regarding kids shall always be tied to a mother's responsibility but Zayne has never believed in that. He strongly believes that childrens are a result of both sides of parents, hence they should be a shared responsibility for both parents.

Lumi and Iver sat in front of their father, and they noticed the way their classmates were looking over to them. "Is that your daddy?" One of the classmates asked Lumi, the toddler about her size, with big brown eyes and short brown bob. Lumi nodded in return. "My mummy say he looks very nice." The comment made Zayne looked over at the parent who is in charge of the talking child and the mother looked away in embarassment.

As usual, Zayne is used to this kind of scenarios, even in hospitals he would always be stared at by patients, some even going as far as to state that they are cured because of how handsome he is. Zayne however, never bought into any of those bullshit. It is not because he is egoistic, but he does not want to be downplayed because of his looks. The saying goes, if you are handsome, you get a certain privilege amongst the normies. Zayne wanted to prove that idea to be a total scam as looks does not necessarily equate to one's actual capabilities in getting things done. Zayne being a prime example.

The homeroom teacher came in after the bell had finished ringing and she welcomed all of the parents' attendance. Goes on about the agenda for the day and that this event is held to encourage stronger bonds between parents and children and amongst their peers as well. "Lumi and Iver's father, would you like to be the first one to start?" She asked Zayne, palms out and pointed towards him.

"Sure." The man replied, clearing his throat and standing up, his towering height a stark difference from his children. He walked to the front of the classroom. Kids of their age would have thought of him being the giant in the beanstalk fairytale if only he had green skin and a big nose. Zayne pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and greeted everyone. "Good morning everybody, my name is Zayne and I am the father to Lumi and Iver." He sent a smile towards his kids. "I am the chief surgeon and leading cardiologist for Akso Hospital."

Zayne talked about his job, keeping it brief and non-technical as he does not want to bore anyone within the room and he does not find the need to reveal too much of his personal information. Now comes the questioning phase, in which the parents would ask questions towards the speaker to get to know them better. "Dr. Zayne, since you are a doctor, would your work take up a lot of time?" One of the ladies asked, readjusting her position on the mat.

"Yes it does." Simple and clear-cut.

"Then do you have a wife to take care of the kids for you?" Her question turned into a flirtatious attempt and a couple of other mums started to tune in, some biting their lip and some fixing their hair. Does not take one to know what was already running through their minds.

Zayne sighed, feeling indifferent to her question. He purposely held his left hand in front of his chest and he twisted the wedding band that is evident on his ring finger, the diamond cut on the simple band refracting the sunlight almost immediately. The lady who asked her question seemingly tried to choke back on her own words, face darkening to a shade akin to a tomato. "Of course I do. A doctor would not be in his or her right mind to have kids and to work full time when our job requires us to be on call for 24/7."

He continued. "My wife is a full time deepspace hunter and we are both equally as involved in our children's lives, just on intervals for the weekdays, but on weekends, we take more time to nurture them." The way he phrased his answer made the whole room went silent, the only sound present being the chirps of the birds coming from outside of the window.

"We are home mummy!" Both of the twins shouted together, placing their shoes onto the shoe rack and dashing into the house to look for their mother. Zayne followed in suit, keeping an eye on them two so they do not end up falling.

"Hey there my babies!" You called out from your bedroom, already dressed up and wide awake. Lumi and Iver both in their tiny white uniforms with stripes of blue, the uniform colour of the kindergarten they both attended. Lumi's dark hair was tied into a neat braid, an effort from Zayne's Youtube history having a streak watch for braid tutorials. Iver's hair however is soft and fluffy, the same as his father’s and it sat on top of his head like a cloud.

"How was the parent meeting?" You asked them two, and they both enveloped you into a big hug, each on one side. Both of your kids looked very happy so you assumed that it went well.

"All of our friends brought mummies." Iver stated. "Nobody bring their daddies to school today." Lumi nudged Iver and whispered something into his ear in her low voice and the boy reiterated what her sister said. "Oh and Cathy's mummy said daddy looks very good."

"She said he is handsome." Lumi corrected Iver and they both turned in sync to watch your reaction. What could you possibly say? Your husband is good looking, it is a bound-to-happen situation but you somehow wished you were the one that attended the event instead. A small slither of jealousy bubbled in your stomach. Just a tiny one.

You were wondering if Zayne took the lady's compliment until you saw your husband walking into the room, with a stoic look. He has always been stoic, yes, but this time, something is different about this look of his. His white formal collared shirt hugged his muscled figure well, his simple black tie hanging loosely below the third button, extending one's sight on his wide sets of shoulders and his v-line figure. His sleeves were folded to his forearm, veins lining against the exposed part of his arms. He placed the car keys and his glasses onto the makeup table and sent you a short look, the side of his lips pulled up into a greeting and loving smile. "Good morning, y/n."

"Good morning, my love." You wanted to believe that Zayne did not entertain the lady's compliment, but you just wanted to hear him say it. So, y/n decided to go with an indirect approach. "Kids, can you wait for mummy outside? Daddy and mummy have to talk a little." Once both of the kids had left, you turned to your 'sulking' husband who was busy changing into a more comfortable outfit. "Come on, what happened?"

"Apparently, I was the only male figure there." He spoke informatively. "And particularly, I do not find it likeable when the other parents think that I am a single parent." His sentence got you figuring when did he ever cared about what people think about him? Has the cold Dr. Zayne finally loosened up? "I find it disrespectful towards you despite them meeting me for the first time." He sounds offended and yet providing the benefit of the doubt to the other parents.

You stared at him, perplexed at the situation. "So, conclusively, you do not enjoy going to the parent's meeting?" You crossed your arms in front of your torso. "Because you do not like the way I got low-key disrespected by the other mums?" A part of you is tasting victory at the tip of your tongue for how protective he is, another part of you---, okay there's no other part. It is the least Zayne could do to show you and the others that he is in a happy marriage and you are fully content with the way he had handled it.

There is not a need to address your concerns of the woman calling him handsome anymore because you know well enough if Zayne had wanted to cheat on you, he could have done it many times given his popularity amongst the opposite sex. But he stayed loyal through thick and thin and had never made you doubt his loyalty and love to you, this being one of his prime examples of being a fine husband.

Zayne chuckled under his breath and came closer to you, both of his hands held your arms and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Low-key is too minimal of a word to describe their assumptions. It is disrespectful for them to assume I am a single parent, when I have a model wife right here with me." He ran his hands repeatedly up and down your arms to comfort you.

"Furthermore, I do enjoy going to Lumi and Iver's events at the kindergarten but perhaps next time, I would much prefer it if you went with me." He pulled you into his arms and you surrendered within his hug. "So that we can spend time with the kids and I get to indirectly dismiss any ladies who may be interested in taking your place." Your laugh further made him look forward to the upcoming event for his kids' kindergarten.

XAVIER & LUCIAN

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Lucian appeared from behind his bedroom door, one eye opened while the other half-lidded. Xavier took a peek at the clock hung on the wall. 10.30am. Lucian, however, is looking at the desk filled with all sorts of sewing needles and a bunch of fabric lapped over one another. "Are you making something daddy?" His eyebrows hinged upwards and he tried to get onto his tip toes to see what was placed on the table. Seeing his son struggling, he carried the little boy up into his arms and placed him on his lap. "I am trying to sew mum a toy, you know, like the ones that you can get from the souvenir shops and all?" Lucian looked between his father and the mess on the table, figuring out how does one make a bunch of cloths into a toy. The limitation of imagination a normal happening for a toddler his age. "What should we make for mummy?"

"A big teddy bear!" The son exclaimed, arms wide and laughing happily. Xavier chuckled along, his son not lacking any bit of his wife's enthusiasm. "Rabbit? Mummy likes rabbits." The son pressed his small index finger to his own lips, thinking to himself. The suggestion of his made Xavier's cheeks flushed red, remembering that one time when you brought him to an event and made him dressed up as a rabbit themed butler, and that is how he met Lucian's mum. Ironic, I know.

"Yeah, I guess a rabbit would do." A sigh escaped his lips when he noticed none of the cloths on the table are white. Unless his wife would be able to appreciate a multi-coloured rabbit toy, he did not want to risk it. "We need to go shopping for some stuffs. Can you go and change your clothes Lucian?" Xavier instructed and the little boy headed off to his bedroom as he was previously trained. As much as independence goes, you and Xavier had decided that some good habits have to be instilled from young. Dressing himself up being one of the disciplines you guys had agreed on.

Xavier got himself changed into a simple white t-shirt and a pair of wide jeans. Surprisingly and yet not surprisingly, Lucian came out of his room, holding a same blue jeans in his hand. "Daddy, can you help me? It is hard to pull it up-up." He pouted, handing Xavier the jeans. Steadying himself, Xavier pulled the jeans up his legs and helped him to button it. "Thank you daddy." The son grinned from ear to ear and held onto Xavier's hand, going over to put on his shoes.

Initially, they were going to ride the motorbike to get to where they are headed, but given the sun is high up the skies today, it calls for a chance for the both of them to enjoy a walk under the clear and warm weather. Xavier did brought along an umbrella as well, in case Lucian gets a little hot. Just because he enjoys the sun, he does not immediately assume his son would enjoy it as much. A lesson he had learned from his wife when you got a fever after walking with him under the sun despite you not being able to stand the heat.

The streets today are not as busy as the normal weekends, with minimal traffic and pedestrians. "Are you tired already?" Xavier observed his son, his footsteps slowing down and slightly wonky. Lucian looked up at his towering father and shake his head, hand coming up to rub his eyes and he yawned. Tears lined his eyes and Xavier bent down to carry his son up into his arms. "It's okay, you can take a nap in my arms, kiddo."

He walked down the street, passing by a coffee shop that looked newly opened. As he was looking through the menu that was on a stand outside, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fishing it out of his pocket, he noticed that his wife is contacting him. "Hello? Baby?" He immediately pressed the phone to his ear. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I woke up to an empty house. Where are you and Lucian?" You asked and he gulped, luckily he had kept the threads and sewing kits and fabrics or else the surprise factor would be ruined.

"Lucian told me that he wanted to have a walk at the park. Since you are still sound asleep, I decided to bring him out for a small walk." Xavier explained, head tilting slightly to look at his son. Still sound asleep within his arms. "We will be back around 15 minutes. Is there anything you would like me to get for you?"

"Some coffee would be great, Xavier." You smiled on the other side of the line, same as him. "Be safe when you are at the park with Lucian alright? I will just rest a bit more at home." You informed him and the call ended with 'Bye' and 'I love you'.

Arriving at a craft store, he lightly woke his son up by kissing his cheek. "We are here Lucian, would you like to accompany me to decide on what colour to get for mummy?" Lucian blinked open his eyes, those light blue irises of his slowly darkened to make up for the lack of lighting within the store. The trinkets neatly placed in various baskets and boxes amazed the child, there are so many things he would like to get his hands on.

"Hi there, how may I help you?" A senior appeared from behind the counter. A lovely lady with a hunched figure, her own kitting works worn on her. Xavier leaned closer to the counter, noticing the vast amount of fabrics, of all sizes and textures mapped out behind the counter. There are also several pictures, in monogramic style, featuring the old lady in her younger days and what seems to be her children, standing side by side, smiling with her. Her light brown eyes lit up when she caught sight of Xavier and Lucian. "Oh, what a precious child."

"Thank you." Xavier thanked her. The old lady laid her knitting items down onto the table she had beside her and she reached her wrinkly hand up to wave it in front of Lucian. The young kid was quick to react, using his tiny hand to wrap around the lady's index finger and Xavier swear he could have seen the old woman regained her youth at that moment. Perhaps reminiscing about the times when she had her kids alongside her. "I am here to get some fabric so I can make a stuffed toy for my wife."

Now it is Xavier's time to have a hunched back. He never thought the process of sewing a stuffed toy would be so complicated. Can't blame him, given his royalty background in Philos and him being an esteemed deepspace hunter in this dimension, why would he even go near anything related to sewing and knitting? It is however, a part-time hobby of yours, as you mentioned that you find it to be peaceful and helps you to focus better. It is also a good past time on the days when you are not busy out on the field.

"Daddy, daddy look at that!" Lucian called out and his head turned towards the direction his son pointed at. Claw Machine Store. Why has he never thought of just taking things the easy route? Because he did not want to. Catching a stuffed toy from a claw machine will always surpass the level of easiness as compared to making a stuffed toy from scratch. Furthermore, the thought of you finding out he actually put in the effort to make the stuffed toy for you would leave your heart melting. He wanted that from you, or more like he just wants you to be happy.

Across the street stood the claw machine store, with stuffed toys filled to the brim for each of the machines, begging to be caught. Your son's eyes are fully attached to the store now, already making mental marks on which toys he would want in his room. Your husband lack that enthusiasm, staring down at the huge bag of craft items he had just purchased from the store. He is debating against himself. Whether to catch a toy or to make one. Either one could predict for different endings, but he knows that you would be happy for both endings. Perhaps he was slightly irritated for the measuring of the level for your happiness.

"Let's go Lucian." He grabbed his son and heaved him upwards, holding the child in his arms like how one carries a log and he crossed the empty street. His feet light and quick in his steps, a habit obtained from his long-time combat instincts. The borders of the tar road ended when he stepped onto the padded pavement, putting his son down and watched as the kid hopped into the store. Xavier was quick on his tail, worried that something might happen to his son.

Luckily, the little boy with the light hair is easy to spot amongst the assemblage of neon lights and bright colours emitting from the machines. Lucian stood in front of a machine, hands pressed against the glass panel, hair stained pink from the light strobe of the machine. "Can we get this one for mummy?" His grin was angelic, but Xavier stood there, slightly stunned. Did his son perhaps doubted his sewing abilities as well like how he doubted his cooking abilities? Well, there is a possibility.

"But I bought these already kiddo. I thought we were going to make a toy for mummy." Xavier tried to test the waters and his son only responded with gestures, tine finger tapped at the glass panel again, pointing directly at the bunny plushie. "Lucian..." Xavier tried to coax him again.

Lucian then faced his father, lips pursed together. "The granny told me that you might get hurt from sewweng." The last word that has not been registered in his vocabulary. "I don't want daddy to get hurt. I don't think mummy will be happy too." For a 3-year old, his sensibility is admirable. His son's words changed his mind, and he gave the little boy a card, the one where he usually reloads a bit too much tokens in it for any sorts of arcades. "Let's get one for mummy together okay?"

"You," You closed the bedroom door behind you, a pastel pink stuffed rabbit in your grasp. Lucian had already being put to sleep shortly after his dinner because the poor boy was dozing off on the dining table. Today could have been a long day for your son. You watched your husband shifted his gaze from the mukbang show on the television to you. "Are a bad liar."

"What do you mean?" His voice feigning innocence when he sat up in a better posture, leaning against the bedframe now. "What have I done this time?"

"Lucian told me that you stitched this yourself." Your teasing smile is apparent to him now, you wiggling the bunny in your hands to show him the evident of his works.

"Do you not believe me?" Xavier's eyes widened, here comes the puppy look. He got out of the bed and slowly approached you. His aura taking a turn from being accused to being the accuser. "Or, do you not want to believe that I stitched it?"

You took a step back, your lower back pressed against the makeup table and he caged you, arms extended on both sides of your figure and he leaned in, smirking and chuckling lowly under his breath. "I...I...didn't know you could stitch toys." Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel his warm breath fanned across your cheeks.

"I feel a little bit upset now." He expressed, pressing a soft and longing kiss onto your cheek and you jolted in shock. "Your son and I had tried to get a toy for you at the arcade today but we kind of finished the credits because the machine was problematic." You would safely put a finger on the fact that he is just bad at claw machine games as per usual. "So, Lucian and I decided to go back to the store where we bought the craft products from and got the old lady behind the counter to give us a crafting lesson. Then this bunny is the outcome of the lesson."

You can feel your heart bloomed at his explanation. You felt bad for doubting his skills, and you even thought that the bad stitching of the toy is a trend nowadays hence you assume your poor husband went off fishing at the claw machine arcades. You should not have doubted his determination. "I'm sorry Xavier, I didn't mean to. I just never thought you would go so out of your way to make me a stuffed bunny. I just---" His index finger slid past your bottom lip at a painfully slow pace.

"Sometimes, you can choose other methods to let me know that you're sorry." He whispered quietly and leaned down to kiss you, the doll you were holding taken out of your hands and tossed behind him, landing on the floor with a thud and your vision blended out into both of your igniting passion.

Here you go lovelies, this is part two for the LNDS boys with their kids and you <3

Leave me your thoughts and love <3 Have a nice day to all me lovelies!!!!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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justaaveragereader · 6 months

Text

Slashtober🔪||American Psycho

Pairing: Mingi x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Dom!Mingi, Manhandling, Cum Eating, Choking, Rough Sex, Squirting, Name Calling, Oral, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Fingering, Belt Use As A Restraint, Mingi Has A God Complex🤪, Unprotected Sex (Don’t Do It!), If I Missed Anything…👀👀Let Me Know…

A/N: I’m still blind asf, but hopefully I get my glasses this weekend, so you already know the drill, sorry for the spelling errors😬

Slashtober Masterlist

The third resident to arrive was Song Mingi, the man was one of the biggest neighbors, falling right behind Jeong Yunho. Mingi was one of the quiet ones from the bunch. Everyone looked at him when he walked by, he was sculpted like a God, thighs that could crush a melon, and hands that look like they could palm a basketball. You didn’t speak with Mingi much due to his day job, he was a hardcore businessman, you always saw him coming or going with his briefcase, with that tie that made you just wanna give it a tug while he was in between your…

He was quite friendly, you had only spoken a couple of times, the main time being when you went to go and greet him. Typical things welcome him to the neighborhood, see if he was in a relationship, see what he did as a profession. You know the typical nosey neighbor things.

“You should try talking to him!” Your best friend said through your FaceTime call. Trying to hype you up to go and talk to Mingi, you always viewed yourself as the neighborhood ambassador but were too frightened at him rejecting your offer. What was the offer? Nothing, besides being a friendly neighbor. You had often seen Mingi leaving his house late at night in a plastic like coat, you had assumed he took up some art courses with Hongjoong faulting him to always being wrapped in the plastic. You always were curious as to what the businessman Song Mingi did in his spare time, wanting to take a peek and be nosey, you had seen him pulling out of his driveway. Ending the call in a hurry you make way towards his house, it was well past 10pm. Assuming Mingi had more work at his office, you skipped over to his house, little did you know someone had been watching you make way towards his home, notifying Mingi of the soon to be intrusion of privacy.

As you shimmied your way into his backyard, you found that his back patio doors were unlocked, trying your best to fight with your morals. This was supposed to be a quick peek to learn about your quiet neighbor. Not a full on break in, your brain out weighed your heart, resulting in you cracking open the sliding glass doors, taking a quick peek inside. His house looks like it’s untouched. Everything is perfect the way it is, it almost looks like a doll house, everything was angled a certain way, everything was eerily perfect. Curiosity gets the best of you, resulting in you stepping into his home, you hear the plastic crinkle immediately, looking down at the floor you notice all the floors are covered in a thick layer of plastic tarp. Curiosity blinding your mind you fail to see the large man quietly waltzing into his own home, he’s as silent as a mouse. A deadly grin has taken over his face, he’s found a new plaything in his yard. Stalking towards you like you are the prey he’s been waiting for. You are so enamored in his collection of figurines, but it’s a glass plaque that catches your attention, your fingers run over the plaque lightly.

“The wolf has eyes for prey, the cow has eyes for hay, one is the killer, the other is buffet.”

Not getting a full moment to process the quote when you hear a slight shift, your instincts kicking in almost immediately. Swinging the ax you duck just in time, the head of it wedges in the doorframe, wood pieces flying around your crouched body. Throwing your hands up over your head, you quickly try to scramble away, knees hitting the floor with a thud. Scrambling on the wooden planks, your chest is heavy with fear when his large hand clasps around your ankle, pulling you back towards him like you are a weightless object. How strong was this man?!

The crinkle of his plastic coat falls upon your deaf ears, too worried with trying to get away, you try your best to kick his hands, refusing to make a sound, not wanting to give away that your ‘nice, friendly, non nosey’ neighbor cover basically had been blown away. He swings the ax again, caking itself right in between the plastic covered wooden floor boards right by your head. Your whole body freezes, your fight or flight falls suddenly, your body carelessly being dragged through his home. Pulling the ax out of the floor, he holds the dull blade to the back of your neck. The cool metal causes your body to shiver. Adrenaline courses through your veins, while you are in the most compromising position you can’t help but think, what if his large hands ran down your legs up to cup your ass, what if he threw you against the wall and bit all over you? Leaving his mark for others to see?

“What are you doing in my home?” His timber voice riddles your body with goosebumps, with a voice like that you want to fly out of your clothes and let him all over your body. It didn’t matter that he could literally lift his arm and swing your head off with the ax, your mind was clouded with Song Mingi.

“I-I’m sor-sorry.” You try to get through as clearly as possible, failing miserably. Gripping the ax a bit tighter he tells you to roll over onto your back so he can see exactly who it is, even though he already knows who it is. Nodding your head, you slowly roll over, you are caged in between his legs, while his menacing eyes stare down at you like you are nothing less than what’s on the bottom of his shoe. His eyes sparkle with mischief.

“My, my, my, what do we have here.” He says with a gleeful voice yet a smile never reaches his face which was odd as you heard him use that tone of voice numerous times, it was always with a smile plastered on his sculpted face.

“Mingi I swear, I jus-.” Cutting your own sentence mid way as he squats down, his thighs brushing over your own legs. His intimidating gaze burns holes all over your face, you can feel the sweat start to bead around your neck line not wanting to poke the bear more then you should you shut up, opting to just look at him through your lashes. While fear pumped through your veins, lust did too. It was hard not to feel such things when you had a big man hovering over your body. Pulling the ax out of the floor again, with each movement his clear plastic coat crinkles, snapping you out of your daze. Your eyes fly over every single one of his features, his sharp nose, his plush lips, his enticing eyes, the man looked like a God.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper out, he pushes the dull blade of the ax under your chin, your eyes drifting back onto his own, while it is hard to see due to the darkness in the room you can feel the energy shift. Rubbing your thighs together, your hands tighten into fists. Letting out a tsk noise like he’s disappointed in what he’s found. He stands up, the ax blade still sitting under your chin, the cool blade digs slightly into your skin. Your life laid in his big, deadly, strong hands.

“You know usually I take their lives after I’ve been seen, but you… I might just keep around.” He whispers out, eyes glazed over stilling in his motions, his voice feels like velvet is rubbing in your ears. Your eyes flutter with every word he speaks, it’s hard for your brain to process you are in potential danger. Yet the way his scent evades your senses, along with his smooth, deep voice that fills your ears, and flies around like small butterflies scattering in your brain you are drunk on this man and you haven’t even had a taste of him.

“Stand up baby girl.” Your body shivers at the nickname he’s picked out for you, stepping back slightly so you have room to stand as your figure rises. You stand on your feet, plastic crinkling beneath you, he wedges the ax back into the floorboard, the plastic cushioning around the dull blade. Walking around you like he’s stalking his dinner, he’s playing with you, getting you on edge for what’s to come.

“What should I do with you..?” He whispers in that deep voice you’ve become drunk, even obsessed with, if sex had a voice it would belong to Song Mingis vocal chords. He pauses behind your shaking body, you can feel his presence loom behind you, an energy so strong it makes your whole body sweat, the back porch door is still cracked open you feel the autumn breeze blow in, yet the heat he’s creating between the both of you is suffocating.

You hear him step closer to you, you can feel him step closer to you. His large hand settles on your hip, jerking your body back against his firm chest. You immediately feel his hard cock straining behind the plastic coat, tucked away beautifully in his work slacks. You let out a small whimper, your sticky skin sticks to the plastic coat. A small chuckle leaves him, lowering himself so he is right next to your ear.

“Is your body shivering with need? Or is it shivering because you’ve been caught?” Your brain immediately turns into soup, you are positive you can feel it slosh around in your skull. Gripping your hip he walks you toward the glass sliding doors, turning you around he shoves your back against them, towering over you with ease. You let out an accidental moan, letting out a mocking chuckle, he lowers himself to his knees. The Song Mingi is kneeling right before you, staring at you with an undetectable glint in his eyes, something you've never ever seen before. His sharp nose brushes against the front of your cunt, inhaling the scent deeply. Letting out a quiet groan, he rolls his neck, eyes fluttering back before gripping your pants, tugging them down to your ankles. Your body moves like it’s on autopilot, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder so he has better access to you.

“I’m starting to think you only came in here to get fucked.” He grunts out, running two fingers through your wet folds, staring at your bare pussy in amazement at how wet it is. As his fingers continue through your folds you let out a loud moan, tossing your head back on the glass. When it dawns on you that if anyone were to sit in their own backyard they’d have a front view as to what Mingi was doing to you. Trying to bring your leg down from his shoulder, he lets out a small chuckle, gripping your other leg and tossing it over his shoulder. He stands to his full height, your body being supported by his large shoulders, you are suspended in mid hair, back firmly pressed against the cool glass.

“Wait Min-Oh my God!” You semi yell out, he dives tongue first into your cunt, wrapping his tongue around your clit giving it a good suck, before letting his tongue explore all through your folds. His large hands come up to grip your hips, pinning you against the cool glass. The way you are moaning and shouting it is definitely echoing throughout the quiet home, and the backyard of his house. Your moans sound like a beautiful symphony to him. He's practically making out with your pussy, he’s precise with each suck on your clit, switching back and forth between sticking his long, warm tongue deep in your hole, while flicking it back to wrap around your clit and give it a good strong suck, flickering his tongue across it from time to time. He was eating you out like he truly was a starved man. Gripping your hips tighter, he lets a hand wander, gripping your throat tightly, immediately snatching the air from your lungs. He squeezes just enough where your oxygen barely gets cut off, sending you into a immediate orgasm, your body jerks, your hand wraps around his wrist, letting out a laugh that vibrates off of your clit your orgasm rips from your core, pussy squirting juices out directly onto Mingis face, and in his mouth. You are sure he has streaks of your orgasm dripping down his plastic coat leaving reminders on it that he brought you to that tipping point. Your hand grips his wrist even tighter than before.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl, you can give me more than that.” He grunts into your cunt, diving back in with his tongue, taking one hand away from your hip, pinning you with his hand that was choking you, he rubs two of his fingers over your sensitive clit, before tapping it firmly, sticking his fingers into your clenching hole, his long fingers immediately brushing your spongy spot. You let out a small yelp, tears begin to form in your eyes at the feeling. You are high on him, you want to drink him in and never let him wander away from you. You drag your eyes down to get a good look at him, he looks like a wolf slurping down his dinner, he truly did remind you of a wolf in sheep’s clothing at this moment. His eyes screamed predator, yet the way his warm tongue was fucking your pulsing cunt you could care less. Your hand finds home in his jet black hair. Your breathing ragged, his fingers continue to make home in your warm, velvety walls. He can feel your walls pulsate around him.

“Is my princess going to cum again?” He says mockingly through a fake coo. You can feel him grin into your cunt. You whine and plead for him to keep going. Pulling away from your wet cunt he makes you look him deep in his eyes, while he pops two fingers into his mouth. Letting out a hum of approval. He moves back slightly watching your body slide down the glass slowly. Your shirt rises up as you descend. His hands still planted firmly on your hips making sure you don’t hurt yourself as you come down. As soon as your feet are planted against the plastic covering on the floor, he immediately grabs you, pulling you towards the living room, lifting the blinds, the moonlight shines off of your post orgasm body. Ripping your shirt off of your sweat coated body. Shimmying his way out of the plastic coat, work clothes out on display, you see him through the reflection undo the first couple of buttons on his shirt, along with sliding his belt off of his waist.

He shoves you against the glass, placing your body on display for the whole neighborhood, any and everyone could walk by and see you both. Your naked chest is pressed firmly against the cool glass of his living room windows, not even caring if anyone sees you. Your warm breath is causing the glass to fog up. He's still for a brief moment, his thick cock slowly enters your wet walls. Letting out a small whimper you shift your hips slightly letting out a loud moan, the plastic beneath your feet is practically glued to you from the amount of sweat that is pouring off of you. Bending you further than you ever thought you could go, he wraps your wrists together with his belt, letting your body fully rest on the glass. Your nipples instantly pebble at the cool contact, your face is squished against it. Moving his hips slowly, he suddenly slams up into you, balls slapping your clit causing your body to shift even more into the glass. Your hands come up bracing yourself for his brutal pace that has your body shifting up with each movement. Gripping your bounded wrists, he uses this as leverage, slamming your body back down with each thrust.

“Min-Mingi!” You choke out through a gasp, he was fucking you senselessly. If he had been playing a game he’d be hitting every killer combo on your body. Letting out a quiet grunt, his large body towers over your frame, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat while the other makes home on your hips.

“Say my name baby, say my fucking name.” He grits out through his signature business smile, the constant chant of his name falling from your wet lips was how it must feel for a God to be worshiped, he felt like he was on top of the world. His hips slightly slow, going even deeper than before, his hand starts to squeeze on your neck, while the other hand falls to strum on your clit like it’s a harp, it’s going to play the most beautiful tune known to mankind. Your toes clench so hard they get wrapped up into the plastic.

“Oh my Godddd!” You moan out, with each thrust back your body slacks against his hips, with every drive forward your body presses harder against the glass. Out of your peripheral vision you see a light flicker on, going to turn your head towards the light shining from the house across the street, his grip on your neck tightens, bringing you to his chest, breast on display for everyone in the neighborhood to see if they wanted to.

“Ah, ah, ah, who's got your attention baby, me or the outside world?” His hot breath heavy on your ear, the groans he’s letting out mixing with the slapping of his wet balls on your ass is making your whole body burn from the inside out, his movements on your clit get faster, causing your eyes to flutter.

“Answer me baby, next time I won’t be so nice in asking you.” He grits out, sucking a hickey into the side of your neck, marking you for the world to see, he needed a stamp on you that he was the one bringing you such pleasure. Giving your neck a tighter squeeze, his thumb on your clit rubbing rapid circles, the way he’s cutting off your oxygen, your wrist bound behind your back, makes your whole body tingle. Trying to warn Mingi of your orgasm that’s approaching it’s almost like he reads your mind, pulling out of you, your arousal drips down your leg, letting out a unsatisfied groan you glance back at Mingi who opens the front door to his home. Grabbing you along with him, the cool air hits your naked body causing you to liter with a whole new set of goosebumps. Bending you over the small balcony he slams back into you, continuing his rapid pace, one hand wrapping around your throat again, stretching your body up to his chest, while his other large hand wraps around your throat. He wants you to feel every bit of him, he wants you to feel him in your stomach, he wants to be so deep that his cock aids with the hand wrapped around your throat that is snatching your breathe away.

“There are so many people in this neighborhood, and their eyes could be on you right now, you know that?” He grits in your ear, his own orgasm approaching. Choking you tighter, your body is being fueled with so many emotions the thought of multiple people on the block seeing your bare body out in the open being fucked by Mingi fueled more desires in your body than you thought. Biting your lip to hold back your moan, you try your best to look up at him with his grip on your neck.

“When are you going to drop that nice act and let everyone see the real you? The real you that loves to get bent over and fucked like the dumb slut she is hm?” His grip gets a bit tighter, your hips fly back with each thrust up, slamming back down on his thick cock, you are so lost in Mingi, you don’t notice the other lights that flicker on within the neighborhood.

“When are you going to finally admit that you are sick in the head just like the rest of us?” He grunts into your ear nipping the lobe, his sentence sparks a whole new fire in you, before you could say anything your mouth opens in a big O, you feel your orgasm spray out of you, soaking your legs, soaking Mingis legs, cock, and balls. Your orgasm was so hard it bullied Mingis thick cock out of your cunt. Threw choked out gasps, you barely can make a sentence you’ve never felt something so powerful before. Your nails dig into your palm, while your upper body hangs off of the balcony trying to stabilize yourself. His hand tightens, aiding in it dragging out its orgasm, still keeping the same smooth moments on your clit, with his hand soaked he doesn’t move an inch. Your cum puddles in the palm of his hand. Fueling his cocky Godly ego more than you’ll ever know. Thick cock hanging while you continue to ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. You finally come to, body completely depending on the cool metal of the balcony to hold you up, his hold still tight, and possessive on your neck, he holds you like he owns you, like you are his, and his only. You know his fingers are clearly leaving thick finger bruises on the soft skin. Snatching your body back into the house, he presses you up against the glass door once more, catching a glimpse of his reflection, you both lock eyes with one another, you watch him slurp down the juices that puddled in his hand. He looked like a true mad man, his eyes were blown, his body big with energy, while his shiny ax gleamed while still being wedged in the plastic coated floor boards. You knew just with that look he had been the death to many before you.

You watched as Mingi dressed in his casual button up shirt, placing his glasses back on, slicking his hair back before grabbing his briefcase. It was like clockwork with Mingi. You knew his whole routine by heart now, wanting to greet him everyday before he pulled out of his driveway, you ran down to your front door, tossing it open with a thud while he stepped foot onto the pavement, you both had seen another moving truck pull up. A smile cracking on his face as soon as he seen the man who had stepped out of the truck, with a mole under his eye, and the laugh unlike another, your smile slipped slightly, eyes growing wide at the man who was now greeting you instead of you greeting him, your new neighbor Jung Wooyoung.

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Divider And Gif By @justaaveragereader

DO NOT REPOST.

#slashtober 2023 #slasher!ateez #Ateez smut #dom!ateez #ateez fanfic #song mingi smut #song mingi x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours

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weasleykisses · 5 months

Text

You’re So Pretty I (Remus Lupin x Reader)

(GIF not mine)

A/N: Remus and you very clearly like each other, however, hes convinced you have a crush on a mutual best friend. Friend-to-lovers, fem!oblivious!reader, jealous!Remus, mutual pining

Loosely influenced by the song “ur so pretty” by Wasia Project.

word count: 3.9k

________

“Going on another study date, Y/N?” Marlene asked as she watched her dorm mate gather up her books and a couple scrolls into her bag. Y/N rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t lie to yourself. You aren’t just going to study.”

“As a matter of fact, I am going to just study.”

The blonde haired girl wasn’t the only one that pestered Y/N about her crush. Despite never admitting to it directly, her friends ganged up on her and joked about it fairly often. “You won’t learn anything from drooling over Lupin the whole time,” Marlene laughed.

“I do not drool over Remus. He’s just a good study partner.”

“Whatever you say.”

She finished packing her bag and making sure her uniform was straight. Her hands slid down her skirt to smooth it out and through her hair as she looked into the standing mirror. Wanting to look presentable did not mean she was trying to impress him. Definitely not. She just didn’t want to look unkempt, is all.

When she was confident she didn’t look like she just rolled out of bed, she turned to leave her dorm and head to the library. She waved to Marlene who made a heart shape with her hands jokingly. After so long, she’d gotten used to the teasing though, just dismissing her with a ‘tsk’.

She left the common room without another confrontation by one of her friends, walking leisurely to the library where her transfiguration textbook waited. She was never the best in transfiguration, or charms, or defense against the dark arts; truthfully she wasn’t very good at anything most people would would consider important. Her saving grace was care for magical creatures.

Sometimes she felt herself grow so embarrassed by her lack of skill, but Remus never made fun of her for it. He helped her fix the issue, and she was grateful to him for that. He was probably the only reason she passed her classes the past few years.

Kids bustled around the halls and the stairways as she walked through the castle. The sound of her feet clicking on the marble floors kept her occupied as she walked through the familiar walkways. She listened in on some conversations as she passed by, eavesdropping when she shouldn’t.

The only other thing on her mind was her study partner, who she found herself growing awfully attached to over their years at Hogwarts. Now that they were in their seventh year, she occasionally felt herself completely consumed by her crush on him, which she quickly tried to correct by thinking of something else.

It wasn’t that she wanted to smother down her crush on the boy, she just didn’t want it to take over her life. It would never happen, and the inevitable rejection would destroy her. It was normal for her to not get her hopes up, terrified of being disappointed in the end.

Sometimes, she just wanted to forget about him and fancy someone actually obtainable. Someone like the hoard of boys that confessed to her over the years, bringing her flowers and candy and sweet love notes. Only she didn’t like them and couldn’t bring herself to pretend. Her friends asked why she never accepted any of the propositions, to which she would just say she was waiting for someone specific.

Eventually some of her friends figured out who she liked. At first it was Lily, and then the rest of the girls followed suit after seeing her interact with the tall boy enough times. She suspected that Sirius knew as well, knowing how perceptive he was. He would send her some suggestive looks now and again when Remus wasn’t looking, which she just ignored for the most part.

Still, no matter how hard she fought it, she fell deeper and deeper into her infatuation with Remus Lupin. She thought he was the most handsome, smart, kind boy she’d ever met. He was just perfect in her eyes. He could do no wrong.

And so, she found herself drowning in her feelings for the boy. Honestly, it was difficult to keep afloat. To be around him and pretend she just wanted to be a friend. To pretend she didn’t want to cuddle him when they sat on the couch together. To pretend she didn’t want to kiss him every time he smiled her way.

Before entering the library, she took a deep breath and smoothed down her hair once more. Confident in her ability to socialize with him without completely falling apart, she pushed open the heavy wood door and into the large room filled with whispering voices and floating textbooks.

Remus sat in their normal spot towards the corner where not a lot of people crowded around. It was quieter, and he preferred that. For Y/N, she was just happy to get more one on one time with him. The other marauders wouldn’t step foot in the library so she didn’t worry about them. Lily maintained her distance when she was studying. She wanted to give the pair some “private time”, as she had said once when teasing her friend.

“Hey, Rem,” she quietly greeted him, giving him a small wave. He peered up from the novel he was reading, giving her a warm smile back. It was adorable. Everything he did was adorable, really.

She took a seat beside him, setting her bag to the side. She pulled out her transfiguration textbook. He was particularly good in this subject, so this would be easier than something like Charms.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I’m fine. How was your day?”

“It was okay. The guys are planning a new prank for tomorrow so they’ve been pestering me about that,” he told her, and she nodded. He loved their pranks secretly, not wanting to come across as immature. Not to mention, James could be a little overwhelming. Especially when he spent the nights with Sirius planning, keeping the other two boys awake.

She grinned brightly. “Oh really? What are they gonna do?” She loved pranks, as long as they weren’t directed towards her. They were an escape from the strictness of the school, not to mention a relief when certain Slytherin were involved.

“Stink bombs in the Slytherin locker room. Nothing fancy.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“I suppose.”

Her eyes trailed down the book that was sitting in his lap now. To get a better look, she leaned closer to him and tried to read the upside text. “What are you reading today?” It was normal that they exchanged books after reading it, that way they could discuss the novels together once they were both done.

“Shakespeare.”

Her eyes widened and she urged him on, “What play?”

“Midsummer’s Night Dream.”

“That’s my favorite! I'm so glad you’re reading it,” she told him happily, clapping her hands together from excitement. As a muggle born witch, she loved when her friends experienced a bit of her world. Shakespeare was just a taste. He’d read a couple other muggle books before, but mainly it was novels by famous wizards and witches.

He smiled, tucking the book into his own bag. “I know. That’s why I picked it.”

“You remembered! I’m excited to talk to you about it when you’re done.” He had to look away from her face. She was so beautiful when she got excited, it made him want to swoop in and give her a thousand little kisses. Of course, he wasn’t insane, so he wasn’t going to do that. He was always looking at her, catching glimpses of her captivating smile and her sparkling eyes. When she looked away, he peered over at her and just watched, regardless of where they were. In class, while studying, in the common rooms. He couldn’t help but stare.

It wasn’t a coincidence he picked her favorite play. He wanted to see her get all giddy because of their two person book club. Anything to see her happy. It seemed he had successfully achieved that, too.

“So what did you need help with?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure. I’m doing well in all my classes right now. Probably because of you, but still,” she told him. Honestly, she never really wanted to study, it was just her way of hanging out with Remus for a while. “Do you want to do something else other than sit in here?” Y/N asked, a bit nervous he might say no.

He leaned on his elbow, cheek pressed to his palm. “Depends. What do you have in mind?” He asked, even though he knew he’d say yes to basically anything she could ask. She could ask him to join her in the broom closet for a snog and he would agree.

She thought for a moment, tapping a finger on her lips as she pondered what they could do. There wasn’t anything she desperately needed done, and it wasn’t close to dinner yet.

“Do you want to come with me to feed the nifflers and diricawls?” It was the only class she excelled in. Hagrid allowed her to come and visit the animals as often as she wished, knowing her to be quite talented at the subject. It was rare to be so compatible with the beasts, but she’d done it.

He wasn’t the biggest fan of the class, and had not taken it for a couple years. Still, he was willing to do just about anything for her. “Let’s go then.” He nodded, gathering up his belongings and tucking them down into his bag. She did the same with her textbook which she never actually opened anyway.

He took her bag from her without her asking. He always carried her books if they were walking somewhere together. She figured it was just him being polite. James would do the same, bragging about his impressive strength. She was grateful though, and walked beside him with her hands in her cardigan pockets.

As they turned the corner, entering the main corridor, she caught the eye of a familiar face, one that Remus thought was busy with Quidditch practice for the time being. “Sirius!” she called, waving over at him with a newfound grin on her face, teeth showing and eyes bright. He looked up from Mary and Alice, who also waved in the pair’s direction.

“Fancy seeing you here, Angel,” he hummed, but opened his arms as he usually did for a hug. She threw herself into his arms and he squeezed her tight, maybe even too tight in Remus’ opinion. She pulled back, peering up at him before nodding to the other two Gryffindor girls.

“Hi, Mary, Alice,” she hummed sweetly. They happily greeted their friend with warm smiles.

Remus almost felt himself move past his surge of jealousy, if he hadn’t seen Sirius rest the palm of his hand on her lower back when he stepped to the side to face the rest of the group. He never understood why the two of them were so close, and why Sirius practically hung off her shoulder when the two were together. The two were just best friends, from all he could tell, but it sure felt like more. Sirius wasn’t known for settling for one girl, he preferred to leave his options open. Surely, he didn’t have a crush on her.

Remus could only hope.

“Moony, where are you two off to?” Mary asked. While Remus looked at the brunette, answering her question, he missed the look that Alice sent Y/N. She raised her brows, her eyes flicking between the pair. Y/N felt her cheeks heat up at the notion that her and Remus were hanging out as anything other than friends. The girls loved to taunt her, probably because they consistently got a rise out of her.

“The creature pens outside,” he replied, gloomier than he wanted to sound. “I thought you guys had practice today?”

Sirius shrugged, “It was postponed for an hour. Something about the weather. I thought you two normally studied on Thursday afternoons.”

“I’ve been doing well enough in my classes that I figured I deserved a well earned break,” she told the three of her quidditch-playing friends.

“Well, I guess we should leave you to it, right, ladies?” the raven-haired boy asked. Bidding the two study partners a goodbye before trailing off with Alice and Mary in tow. Y/N waved while Remus just watched with a defeated look on his face. He always felt defeated when seeing Sirius and Y/N together.

For the rest of the trek out to the animal pens, they walked beside each other silently, just navigating the halls in thought. She could only think about how close he stood beside her, and how attractive it was that he carried her bag for her. A dazed smile was left on her lips and she stared at her feet to avoid him seeing how happy he made her. She was such a lovestruck fool. It was obvious.

It was cold outside but not quite snowy yet. She cuddled into her thick cardigan, wondering if he was cold in just his sweater and uniform shirt. The leaves had fallen from all the trees, crinkling under their footsteps. The sky was white, indicating a storm was brewing, potentially snow considering it was December. A few other students hung out in the courtyard, playing games with each other or sitting by the gardens talking. Not a single person was hanging around the animal pens.

She stopped when they neared the small building beside the care for magical creatures classroom. The diricawls and nifflers were inside this time of year so she pushed open the door to the shelter. Inside, they were met with a dozen or so diricawls walking around on some freshly laid hay.

She turned to Remus and grinned, pointing to a diricawl with three black spots on its head. “This one is my favorite. His name is Cookie. Isn’t he just the cutest?” She asked.

He shut the door behind them so none of the creatures escaped. “You named him Cookie?”

“Yeah, because he’s so sweet.”

She walked over to the food barrel and scooped out two handfuls of food. She tossed onto the ground beside the animals, but kept a few pieces in her hand. With her free hand she urged Remus to come closer.

He did as she asked. “Here, you can feed Cookie this time,” she told him, handing him the pieces of kibble. It was exciting to share her passions with him. He was happy she just included him in the first place. He wanted her to invite him into all aspects of her life. What classes she liked, her favorite books, favorite songs, her favorite holiday, and favorite food. It was like a collection he wanted so badly to complete. To complete her and all her quirks.

He took the kibble from her hand. “How do I feed him?” He asked.

“Didn’t you pay any attention in class?” She joked, but patted his shoulder nonetheless. “By hand, if you want. He doesn’t bite,” she laughed. He knelt down closer to the creature and extended his hand, looking to her for guidance. She gave him a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Soon enough, the little bird was taking food from his palm and munching on his snack.

When he was finished and stood back up, she couldn’t help herself but hug him from the side, pressing her face to his arm. “Y/N?” His heart was skipping a beat. He patted her on the head gently, feeling a bit too awkward to hug her back. Even if he loved her being pressed so close to him, he couldn’t function when the real thing happened.

She answered with so much glee in her voice, “I’m just so happy you came with me. No one ever comes with me to feed these little guys. Always too busy with quidditch or hanging out in the common rooms.”

“It’s no big deal. If it makes you happy, it makes me happy too.”

Her stomach was doing somersaults and her heart raced at his kind words. She took a step back and straightened herself out again. “Thanks, Rem. You’re such a sweetheart.”

If his face wasn’t red already, it certainly was now. She looked like an angel standing there, the diricawls gathered at her legs like her own little army of birds. He loved the way her Gryffindor cardigan swallowed her up. He loved the way some stray hairs fell into her face as she glanced down at the ground. He thought it was adorable how she fiddled with her fingers when she was nervous.

It was admirable how she treated the animals, the things she loved. Even if she wasn’t the smartest book-wise, she was friendly and kind, to animals and humans alike.

Most importantly, there wasn’t any judgment from her when she found he was a werewolf. She caught the boys carrying him up the common room stairs one day in the early hours of the morning, and from then on she doted on him. She gathered ingredients from her furry or scaly companions, persistent in making healing potions for him, different creams and salves for his wounds. She worked long hours in the Potions room with Slughorn’s permission, desperate to make something that would ease his suffering.

She’d come up to their dorm after the full moon and take care of him each time, cleaning his wounds and doing the best she could with her limited knowledge of healing spells. Over time, she got better, nearly perfecting her spell casting, all for him.

That was when he started to fall for her. No one had ever cared for him like she did. As Sirius liked to call her, Y/N truly was an angel, he was sure of it. Sirius might have meant it as a joke, but Remus came to find the nickname truer than any other. True like he was Moony and their friend was Padfoot.

She pointed over to a few cages to their right, where the nifflers lived. The cage was decorated with shiny things, silver necklaces and some gold coins, probably the result of a thieving niffler.

“Do you want to feed the nifflers now?”

“Anything you want, love.”

———

While James was chasing after Lily Evans, and Sirius was busy romancing Marlene McKinnon, Y/N sat back on the couch beside Remus Lupin. Peter sat on the floor by her feet, resting his head against the sofa cushions. She’d grabbed three cups and a pot of hot tea for her and her couple of friends as they watched the flickering of the fire before them.

While the more outgoing of the friend group were always off doing something, this left just the quieter three hanging around amongst themselves. It was peaceful. Remus read his book silently while Y/N and Peter talked about the newest gossip from that day. Peter was great to talk to. He always listened intently, and could discuss basically anything she could think of. She supposed he was just happy that the cooler marauders let him hang around.

She took a sip of her drink and sighed, the warmth of a nice cup of tea soothing her otherwise freezing cold frame. She grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped herself up. It was nearing Christmas, which meant many things.

It meant that she would have to sit outside in the freezing cold during every quidditch match. It meant going to Hogsmeade every weekend and filling up on butterbeer and goodies from Honeydukes. It meant spending more time huddled up on the couch with her friends sitting around the fire, laughing all night long.

She drifted off into her own thoughts for a moment, completely missing the question that Peter had just asked. She felt a tap on her knee and blinked away that dazed look in her eye.

“What was that, Peter?”

“I asked, do you have any plans for Hogsmeade this weekend?” he said once again. She tapped the side of her teacup in thought. She originally planned on staying inside over the weekend to finish up some homework due the next week, but she couldn’t resist the urge to go out and visit the little town, get some candy, and drink in the Three Broomsticks. She couldn’t miss out on a fun outing with friends.

Y/N shook her head ‘no’.

“Wanna come with?”

“Of course.”

She stirred her cup of tea, her eyes scanning the room. “Any specific plans you all have this weekend? Zonko’s, Honeydukes, Spintwich’s?” she asked. Usually they followed some sort of routine. Visit the Three Broomsticks for drinks, head to Honeydukes to stock up on sweets for the rest of the week, and either stop at Zonko’s for the newest gadget or Spintwich’s so James could see if there were any upgrades for his broom.

Her personal favorite was Brood and Peck. Sometimes they had special creatures that you could only find in the forbidden forest. She was still waiting for a unicorn, but in the meantime there were always mooncalves, nifflers, and diricawls to play with. She also liked spending her time in the bookstore too.

Not that she wanted books, she just liked going there with Remus so she could watch him out of the corner of her eye. He furrowed his brows as he scanned the books for one that he was interested in. She would pretend to do the same thing, but really she just went for him. To watch him get excited by a new book that was just released, or half priced older novels he’d been meaning to buy, books they would read together. Seeing him happy made her feel soft inside, and that’s all that mattered to her.

“Well, I heard that Lily and the rest of the girls are going to Honeydukes around noon and I plan to be there,” James said confidently. He was obsessed with that girl, but Y/N couldn’t judge. She was just as obsessed with Remus as James was with Lily. She was infatuated, and had been for years.

“Speaking of which, why aren’t you going with the rest of the girls, Y/N?” Peter asked the girl sitting beside him.

Originally, she declined going to Hogsmeade that weekend altogether. She was far too preoccupied with her schoolwork to even think about taking the day off to fool around, but she couldn’t say no to spending the day with Remus. She had to say yes to the boys, on the off chance she might get some quality time with the boy she fancied.

She shrugged, “They offered, but had to say no. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to finish my potions essay in time. Gladly, I got it done this morning, so I should be fine to go with you guys.” She wasn’t exactly lying, but she certainly wasn’t telling the entire truth. She wasn’t doing well in her Herbology class either…

Remus found himself tense up at the mention of Hogsmeade. He always found himself nervous when she was around, and somehow, they always ended up singled out by the group when they went places. It was always Sirius and James goofing off with Peter following closely after, leaving Remus standing in the dust with Y/N at his side. He was never prepared and felt like he made a fool of himself every time just trying to strike up conversation. He could be so terribly awkward.

He just hoped that on the day of the actual visit to Hogsmeade, he would be normal. That all his friends would stick together instead of separating and leaving him to be his embarrassing self in front of the girl he so desperately fancied.

Part Two out.

#remus lupin x reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter #marauders era #harry potter x reader #hp fanfic #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin one shot #remus x reader #remus lupin x you #marauders era x reader

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shurisneakers · 2 months

Text

unsolved (iii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, cryptids, graveyards

A/N: good evening. i am fighting demons (tummy ache). comments and feedback are always appreciated thank u for the love on the series so far i adore u guys sm <;33

Previous part || Series masterlist

A few days after the first video goes up, Bucky returns from his run to a SHIELD file taped to his door.

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend.

He flips the page to the section on his known connections, only for a sheet of paper to fall out. Sharpie sprawled haphazardly across it, in big red letters.

NO AUNT.

BITCH.

He bites back a grin.

The video does reasonably well. Not record breaking numbers or anything, but for once there aren’t TikToks of people counting how many times he blinks to make sure he’s an actual human.

Always a man of his word, though he has regretted it every single time, he agrees to a second video. It follows after a disgraceful bout of bitching and even pleading, but a few hours later, he resigns himself to his fate silently.

That is until the schedule for the next video shoot is posted to the server, and he sees it’s at night.

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

Before he can even type out his rejection, his door receives four sharp knocks. He doesn’t even need to open it to know who it was.

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis.

In your hands is a large cardboard box and on your face is a stupidly big grin.

“Good evening,” you greet.

“Tell me the show’s getting cancelled,” he says.

“Nope. We–” you announce, reaching into the box and shoving something onto his chest, “--are going on a trip. Demon hunting.”

“Demon hunting?”

“To Westley Cemetery,” you add, letting the box tumble onto the floor as you grip its contents. “To catch the Westley Cemetery Cryptid.”

“What the hell is the Westley Cemetery Cryptid?” Bucky demands.

“Creature that lives in the cemetery, watches people from the trees and runs after you if you’re there too long. No known kills, but a couple of scratches and spooks,” you list off.

His face twists. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Uh, yes it is.” You rest a hand on your hip. “My sources told me so.”

“Who are your sources?”

“Twitter.”

Bucky stares at you without a word.

“It’s totally real. It’s got a Wikia page and everything,” you argue against his complete silence. “I believe in it.”

“That means nothing.”

“Rude.” You glare pointedly. “Anyway, point is, we’re going out tonight to the cemetery and we’re gonna catch this thing on tape.”

Bucky tracks your gaze to finally look down at what you’ve shoved into his hands. It’s a headband, with two cameras attached to it, one facing your face and the other outward. Night vision, he guesses.

He sighs. “How long? An hour?”

“Was Hamlet written in an hour? Was Sharknado filmed in an hour?” you exclaim. “Great art takes time. We’re staying out there as long as we need to. So help me, we will emerge victorious.”

Bucky stares at you. “Two hours.”

“Seven.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

“Deal.”

“Great.” You stick your hand out, and he grabs on firmly. “See you at 1am.”

“1am?!”

It is 1am, it is cold and Bucky is miserable.

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head.

You offer him whiskey to warm him up, and he agrees.

You then tell him you don’t actually have any because you didn’t think he’d accept.

He hates it here.

The wind whistles around the both of you. The eerie silence is only compounded by the fact that he can’t see anything beyond a certain point. The night is especially dark and there is no moonlight.

He trudges through the patchy grass, dry leaves crunching under his boots.

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out.

“That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles.

“Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“He definitely does, and you know what? I bet your shit vibes are gonna attract him. Moth to flame and all that. Karmic justice.”

Bucky stares straight ahead, swerving to avoid running into cracked tombstones.

You go back to singing, but worse this time.

“What if we don’t get anything?” he interrupts, to protect his sanity. “No one wants to watch a bunch of people just walk around the dark for 20 minutes.”

There’s no response.

It takes a second for Bucky to realise the singing’s stopped too.

He stops in his tracks, head swivelling to look for you.

“The fuck…” he mutters.

In the cemetery, he is truly alone for a moment. Silent, other than wrought iron gates creaking in the far distance.

The leaves of the tree above him rustle.

Bucky looks up, squinting against the darkness.

Against the stillness of the night, he sees it. A figure stands tall on the branches of the tree, silhouette obscured by the leaves.

It leers down at him, unmoving.

Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“Very funny,” he says. “Hilarious.”

“We’ll fake it,” the figure calls from above. “If we don’t get any footage, I’ll just get on up there and fuck around and you record.”

“Get down,” he demands. “We’re not faking footage.”

If this show had to die this way, so be it.

“Bore,” you boo, lowering yourself to the ground with ease. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you don’t want to be a part of this series.”

“I don’t.”

“Anyway,” you say obnoxiously, “we won’t have to. There is definitely a cryptid here. I can feel it in my bones.”

“We’re halfway through the graveyard and there’s nothing here,” he shoots back. “We should call it quits.”

“You’re right,” you say, to his surprise. “We need to cover more ground. Let’s split up.”

That is most definitely not what he was saying.

But you start singing again and so Bucky agrees faster than you finish the same stupid third line for the hundredth time that hour.

Bucky is a man of dignity.

Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

He takes a seat against the trunk of a tall tree, in a relatively open clearing.

He figures if he just takes a nap then the two hours would pass by quicker.

Bucky has no idea where you’ve gone. The lack of light doesn’t help, even with his advanced vision.

He crosses his arms behind his head and settles back, eyes closing.

Not even a second later, he wants to rip his hair out when the stupid song you were singing reintroduces itself in his head.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans.

The tree he’s leaning against shifts ever so slightly.

His eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move an inch.

Instinctually, his breathing slows and his ears tune in to pick up even the faintest sounds.

The draft whispers, and he knows for a fact that something is above him.

A branch cracks.

“Go away,” Bucky says loudly.

A second passes.

And then another.

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout.

“It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.”

“You didn’t even look up.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“He could have been above you.”

“But he wasn’t.” Bucky’s eyes close again.

“You’re terrible.” It comes back muffled, and branches shift. “I’m headin’ that way. One of us has to put some effort into this.”

“Joy. Knock yourself out.”

The trunk moves under his muscles again and Bucky lets out a small exhale, settling back into the position he was in.

Until he hears you singing in the distance. Same three lines, same off-key tune.

Bucky drags his palm across his face.

An hour passes.

Unlike his original plan, he does not sleep.

He instead recounts every element he remembers from the periodic table.

Replays every Dodgers game from his childhood, and then gets mad at their shift.

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

He just doesn’t get how you’re so goddamn chirpy all the time, given that he’d been through something similar and come out the way he had.

It had taken him a month to say anything to anyone other than Steve. You went out for brunch with Sam the same weekend you showed up at the compound.

He doesn’t get you.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t actually seen you in a while.

He checks the time on his watch. Nearly 3am.

He had a fucking workout in the morning and no lizard-man was going to be the cause for Steve outrunning him.

He pushes himself off the ground with a groan, and stretches out his sore limbs. Definitely too old for lying around a cemetery beyond midnight.

He calls out your name loudly, and then again, before waiting.

He hears bells ringing in the distance.

Bucky looks up.

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.

“There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?”

The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall.

“Already told you I’m not faking footage, get down from there,” he repeats. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you at the gate.”

The leaves shuffle around before he hears branches break.

Something you say gets obscured by your movement, but you disappear again. He thinks that maybe you were cursing him out, and deservedly so. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He rolls his eyes, but starts making his way to the entrance of the graveyard.

The walk back is faster, and he holds back a yawn as the gates start creeping up on the horizon.

There’s no sign of you. He half thinks you ditched him here and went back to the compound. Or fell off the tree and were just laying there.

But he decides to wait, leaning against the exposed concrete wall.

Eyes closed, he rubs his temples and decides that if you’re not here in the next thirty seconds, he’ll just–

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

“Where the hell did you go?” he demands.

You blink at him, before holding up a wrapper.

“Got a sandwich. I was hungry. The diner was real nice too, I spent like half an hour talkin’ to the owner.”

He stares at you. “You just left to get a sandwich?”

“Yeah, and I got you one, too,” you reply, tossing him a paper bag. “You’re welcome. God bless that man, but those things aren’t cheap.”

“You’ve not been here for the last half hour?”

“I mean, I spent like ten minutes looking.” You shrug, taking another bite. “All I got was a bunch of grass.”

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour.

“So you just left,” he says dryly.

“Yes,” you reply like it’s not even worth debating. “Besides, if anyone could find a cryptid it’d be you. A fellow cryptid.”

Bucky spins on his heel to leave.

“You’re welcome for dinner,” you call out, and he can hear you laugh.

He flips you the finger, and regrets it a second later when your singing resumes.

The sandwich is good. He appreciates it.

He even manages to keep pace with Steve the next morning.

What he doesn’t appreciate is coming back to fifteen missed calls and four video calls from you.

From: co-host (TGS)

can you pick up

From: co-host (TGS)

i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

Bucky switches off his phone for the next three hours.

Finally, it’s a threat that you will show up at his door again and Bucky finally video calls you back that evening.

“What,” he states.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, sitting up to adjust the camera. In the middle of the ordeal, Bucky sees your laptop open.

“What do you want?” he repeats.

“The team sent over the videos from last night,” you tell him. “At some point in the video you said ‘we’re not faking footage, get down from there.”

“Yeah.”

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.

“Who were you talking to?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Heard you in the trees. Figured you climbed up there again.”

“Ah.” You click your tongue. “Interesting.”

“What.”

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“Bye,” he says shortly.

“Dude,” he hears you laugh loudly through the phone. “I fuckin’ told you you’d attract these things, you–”

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

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Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

322 notes · View notes

normansnt · 3 months

Text

Sweet Valentine.

(Platonic!Reader x Huskerdust)

(Implied Reader x Alastor)

Male reader

(Again not my art idk who's sorry but its so good😭💗)

Warnings: None I think

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stupid fucking, son of a-"

Husker was sitting by the bar and doing something that didn't look like drink mixing.

That was because it indeed wasn't he was trying to make a valentine card but that damn glue just didn't listen to him. He has a lot of glue in his fur now. And you noticed that.

"Heyyyy Husk, how's it... how's it going?" You asked a bit taken aback by what you were seeing...or the lack of understanding of it.

"Ahhh its nothing" He said back in a very grumpy tone.

You slid a bit closer to what he was doing.

You saw a heart cut out (badly) from a pink colored paper and some glitter on the side.

You stared at it for some time and than it clicked. Husk was making a valentine card for someone. The thought melted you heart.

"Husker that is so sweet who is it for?" You asked, eyes sparkling with interest.

"None of your beeswax kid." He answered, still grumpy.

You didn't get offended, this was nothing new to you, Husker was just like that.

However you could clearly see that he was struggling.

"Well, all right but if you need help you know where to find me." You answered with a smile as you left the bar to go to your room.

You knew it was for Angel. But you still wanted to ask to get Husker to admit out loud that he liked him.

You were right, of course, Husk needed help. But he didn't want to go to you. He felt like that would be admitting defeat and since he didn't want to ask anyone else either he turned to the next best thing: romance movies.

And thats how now you were standing in the kitchen with a blown up cake (somehow) a broken table in the middle burnt table cloth on top, and plates and roses shattered on the floor.

"Sooo, Husk, dear, what the hell did you do?" You asked looking at him.

"Ahhh god damn it I just wanted to make a romantic dinner for Angel but it all went to shit." Husk was looking at the floor in defeat.

You chuckled at that.

"Husk you should have just come to me, I've know Angel for a long time now and he is one of my best friends. Listen, Angel does not give a fuck about fancy dinners or roses and shit. The only thing you have to do is be yourself, as cliche as it sounds, just tell him you like him and make him a drink at the bar that would be already enough for him knowing he can spend the evening talking to you."

Husk looked at you in disbelief, but he was relieved. Just sitting by the bar and chatting over a drink was more favorable for him as well.

And so on Valentines day you went down to the bar early in the morning to visit Husk and attempt to sooth his nerves.

That was going to be harder than you thought. Husk was cleaning glasses, bottles, anything he could get his hands on in the bar out of nervousness.

"Heeeyyyy, Husk...you good?" You attempted.

"No, (Y/N) I am in fact NOT good how the heck am I supposed to tell him that I like him."

"You just said it...of course that was in third person lets try in second person next-"

"NO (Y/N) you don't understand I cant do this I'll just give him a drink like usual and we'll talk normally-"

You interrupted Husker by grabbing his ear.

"Oww mother fuck-man what are you doing?"

"Listen to me Husker, this is the day of love and you are in love with Angel there is nothing else to say you have to confess, it will make him so happy."

"How do you know that? What if he just laughs in my face and tells me get my old brain out of the gutter."

You stared at him in disbelief. Of course you knew that Angel likes Husk, you were the first person he told it too. But you cant tell Husk that.

"Husker, do you really think Angel would ever say that?"

"...no"

"Exactly because he is the sweetest guy and you know that, even if he rejects you, people will always be happy if they hear that someone loves them, you will make him happy, and lets face it Angel needs it."

Husk looked at the bottle in his hand and put it down.

"I'll...try my best." He sighed at last.

At that you jumped behind the counter and hugged him.

"Ok, good luck" with those last words you jumped back out and walked away to your hiding place...where you found every other resident except Angel was already excitedly waiting for whats going to happen.

"Erhmm...hey guys whatcha doing here?" You asked them confused.

"Shhh...Angel is coming" shushed you Charlie with an excited smile.

"Ahhh...good morning Husk, have you noticed that the hotel seems kind of empty?" Asked Angel.

"I have not seen anyone except you this morning." Husk was still cleaning glasses, probably for the 3rd time this morning but it helped with his nerves.

"Interesting I guess the couples are celebrating valentines day but I don't know about the others."

You guys just sat behind the corner where you were just out of view and tryed to listen to their conversation.

"Can you hear anything?" Asked you Charlie.

"Yes, someone just said: 'can you hear anything'"

"Ow come on, Alastor cant one of your shadows go closer or something?" Asked the radio demon Veggie.

"My dear it is 9 o'clock in the morning there is no shadow where mine could hide, I'm afraid they would notice me."

You were still busy listening but couldn't hear anything due to the voices behind you.

"Guys, cut it out I'm trying to listen."

"Wow he isssss grumpy thissss morning" commented quietly Pentious.

"No, this is just very important for my dear, he left the bed without even saying good morning to me." Alastor said somewhat grumpy.

To this you turned your head.

"Awww honey I didn't know that meant so much to you I'll make up for it I promise." You answered quickly while you turned back around. Only to be met with Angles chest.

"What the heck are you nosy nellies doing here?" Asked Angel looking at all of you.

"Well...ermm." You looked at Husk for help who showed you a thumbs up. This was all you needed as you jumped to hug Angel.

"We want to congratulate you omg you guys are such a cute couple" you almost yelled excitedly.

Angel chuckled and hugged you back.

"Yeah I guess we are." He answered as he put you down and took hold of Husk's hand.

And with that, the Hazbin Hotel got richer with another couple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Huskerdust is everything, nothing else matters.💗🥹

Hope you guys liked the story🥰

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #huskerdust #husker x angel dust #husker hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin angel dust

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stevesbipanic · 2 months

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@steddielovemonth Day 15: Love is letting yourself be loved @quinns-shadowy-arts

Steve was in love with Eddie. He'd long come to terms with that. Four months after the spring break from hell, crying on the bathroom floor of Family video to Robin asking if there was something wrong with him. Now he knows liking both is ok, that he's as valid as anyone else. He's allowed to feel butterflies looking at Eddie and it doesn't make his past relationships with girls invalid.

So he knows he's in love with Eddie. He even knows Eddie is gay. But he can't tell him, because it would make Eddie sad. He'd rather keep Eddie by his side on movie nights than risk ruining their friendship. He doesn't want to give up sharing a bed after a night of smoking just because he can't keep his heart in check. He doesn't want his memory of Eddie's face ruined with one of pity rather than his favourite smile.

So he's not going to tell Eddie.

But right now Eddie is telling him.

"-since I opened my eyes in that hospital and the first face I saw was you. I'm in love with you, Steve." Eddie's eyes are big and scared, Steve doesn't want him to have that look on his face but he has to set him straight.

"Eddie..."

Eddie looks like he was going to cry, "No, Steve don't, don't reject me please, I'll just go, I'm sorry."

Steve just wants Eddie to be smiling again, he has to fix this, "No, Eddie, I'm not rejecting you I'm in love with you too, but."

Eddie's face looks caught between emotions, "But?"

"But you shouldn't be in love with me."

Now Eddie looks confused, which is better than crying, "Shouldn't? Why not?"

Steve felt a wet laugh bubble out of him, "Why not? Because I was an asshole in school, I picked on kids exactly like you, I'm selfish and mean, I'm definitely not going to be a good boyfriend, I don't even know if I can love right. I'm bullshit, Eddie."

The sad look was back on Eddie's face but Steve felt it directed at him now, Robin got the same face too sometimes, "Stevie..." The weight behind something as simple as his name breaks him. "You should love someone who can go to your shows and not get migraines, or someone that can follow your games, or someone who has a future, Eds."

Eddie doesn't answer that, he just sighs and it sounds like the weight of the world is contained in that one breath, and wraps his arms around Steve, pulling him in.

"Sweetheart, Stevie, baby, how could I not be in love with you. You who cares for everyone in his little family he's found and protected. You who asks Jeff to record our sets so you can listen to them at home, yes I know you've been doing that. You who has rebuilt himself into someone good and kind when the other path would've been easier. You, Steve Harrington, are anything but bullshit, you are impossible not to love. Any future with you is one worth having."

Steve let's his tense body slowly melt into Eddie's chest. "Even if I can't believe any of that yet?"

Eddie presses a kiss to the top of his head, "Even if it takes my whole life to convince you."

And a whole life with Eddie sounds like something he can let himself have.

#steve is a lil messed up #but his family will always love him #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #ficlet #steddielovemonth #angst with a happy ending

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scorpioracha · 4 months

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Jisung x reader, exhibitionism, slight reader x Minho, perv! Jisung, open ended ending

Perv! Jisungie has been running through my head rampantly. Like this baby gives me such service top exhibitionist energy that I can’t help but to imagine him wanting to take you anywhere he thinks he can get away with it. Lmk if you likeee I’ve never really written something like this before 🫶🏾

Movie night with the boys starts off innocent enough, a casual sleepy affair with everyone sated from the dinner Minho cooked and sprawled across the various couches in the living room. You weren’t even really sure what was playing and you couldn’t say you were interested. You were hoping for the fault in our stars but they all wiped the floor with you in the first round of rock paper scissors leaving you pouting and uninterested. It wasn’t anything new, you never won anyways but you were hopping someone like Chan did, instead of being forced to watch one of Hyunjin’s many many historical art piece documentaries. No one was really watching but at least Chan and Felix tried to feign interest, letting out little hums and questioning hmm’s when it felt appropriate. Minho had left halfway through to do dishes, Jeongin was scrolling through Pinterest and Changbin was fast asleep in the comfort of his room, the only one brave enough to reject the movie completely. Seungmin had been sent to the convenience store an hour ago which was suspicious because the closest one was a five minute walk.

That just left you with the yapper,the mediators,the iPad kid and your lovely boyfriend who went through the trouble of getting you all nice and cozy with blankets because these heathens didn’t believe in heat before January. If they weren’t idols they’d make excellent landlords, you rolled your eyes. Despite the annoyances—if hyunjin ever pulled this shit again you were going to turn his jiniret into a smoothie—it was a nice time. You’d never admit it to their faces but you missed them. With all the schedules and comebacks it was hard to remember a time where they didn’t look half dead or were asleep. It was even nicer getting to see Jisung. The two of you had spent the better half of the movie side eyeing each other and giggling about Chan’s lackluster responses, the single father jokes almost blew your cover from how hard you were trying not to laugh. The monotonous drone of the narrative and Hyunjin’s consistent chatter lulled you into a hazy state of dozing off. The world growing pleasantly fuzzy as you laid your head on Jisung’s shoulder. It was perfect really, the lights were off, shades were drawn and he was rubbing your head in a way that had you nudging into his touch, scooting closer until you ended up in his lap. He grabbed the blanket and fluffed it a bit so you were both wrapped up tight and your head was resting in the crook of his neck.

The touches started off innocent enough. The hand that was rubbing your head ran down your back, massaging your hips and trailing down your thighs. This didn’t sound off any alarms, Jisung had always been pretty tactile and you were still dozing a bit. That was until his hand snaked around your waist, leaving feather light touches on your tummy, gentle adjusting you so you were more so straddling than cuddling him. You hummed inquisitively but he just shushed you and went back to rubbing your back. It felt nice, having his hands on you, they were warm and you were weak so you all but melted into his arms. You weren’t sure when gentle caresses turned into poorly disguised groping but you couldn’t help but gasp when his hands trailed back towards your stomach settling on your pelvis just below the hem of your sweats.

“W-what are you doing, sungie?”you whisper in his ear. You could feel him smile before you see it, all teeth and all trouble.

“ ‘m bored” is his only response as he rubs soft circles with his thumb across your hip bones, his grip only tightening when you begin to squirm.

“Wanna be good for me?”he purrs into your ear. the feeling of his breath fanning your neck alone has you trying to hide a shudder but you find your nodding anyways.

“Say it”he goads, digging his thumbs deeper into your hips making you suppress a whine.

“Say you want me to touch you”he starts.

“I-I want you to touch me”you say in a low tone, eyes darting around the room trying to make sure now wasn’t the time people decided to become social.

“In front front of all the members”he finishes. You flush and shake your head a bit.

“I-I Jisung—“

“Say it” he says. the glint in his eyes had gotten much darker, or maybe the hue of the tv had shifted. you felt the swirl of arousal begin to stir in the pit of your stomach. you’ve played the staring game with Jisung before time and time again. and if the earlier rock paper scissors was any indication.

You weren’t too good at winning.

“want..want you to touch me..’front of all y’er members”you mumble quickly, feeling your face grow hot and your stomach sink just a little bit. His grin widens and he rewards you by fulling dipping his hand under the waist band of your sweats, letting his fingertips rest on your clothed cunt.

“Really”he whispers, going for coy but he just looked hungry. “Didn’t know my girl was so needy”

There wasn’t much more time wasted talking as there was energy going into making sure you didn’t get caught. You isolated between pretending to sleep with your head on his chest to cover your face and inevitably needing to come up for air by pretending to stir restlessly.

and Jisung wasn’t playing fair.

Your panties were all but forced to the side as he rubbed deep gentle circles on your clit. and it just made you all the more aware of sound. Hyunjin talking, Chan and Felix now deep into their own conversation, games coming from Jeongin’s phone and Minho occasionally dropping cutlery in the kitchen and cursing. You could also hear your own heartbeat and the squelching of your cunt as Jisung bullied two fingers inside you, resulting in a strangled grunt and biting his shoulder. your stomach dropped and your blood ran cold but Jisung didn’t stop. Instead he curled his fingers just right in the way that had you wanting to crumple right there. his other thumb found his way to your clit and you were panting in his ear desperately trying to find the words slow down. Your head was thrown over his shoulder and all you saw was the hardwood floor, the dining room table and the glint of the kitchen light seeping in. your thighs were burning and you couldn’t tell whether you were chasing the pleasure or running away from it. and Jisung has the nerve to look unphased. his eyes were focused on the documentary and he was even engaging in Hyunjin’s pointless debates on modernism and whatever the fuck Picasso did and you have tears in your eyes from trying so hard not to make a sound. Jisung is hard, you can feel it, you know he’s getting off to it and the minute he hears a sniffle and feels your tear on his cheek, it’s over. You’re shifted a little bit to the left, he spreads your legs a bit wider and he’s thrusting his fingers into you with abandon. His face is still perfectly neutral while you’re falling apart just out of everyone’s line of sight.

Well, almost everyone.

You hear the hardwood floor creak just barely as Minho pads back in. In a state of panic your eyes shoot up and meet his, teary and damn near crossing. He goes to speak, he tilts his head, and he stops in his tracks. you’ve never made such intense eye contact with Minho before, it’s like you can see every thought run across his eyes in real time and fuck you’re still crying. they darken significantly before they settle on a sick understanding that has you feeling nauseous and hot and clenching tight around Jisung’s fingers. Minho’s eyes never leave yours and you almost feel like this was planned in a way. You wanna ask, but before you can Jisung is pinching your clit and you’re cumming around his fingers with an aborted cry. mid way through your high you realize the hand around your mouth is smaller than usual and the one petting your hair has sharp nails that Jisung doesn’t.

It’s Minho announcing that he’s back that finally gets everyone’s attention. The boys seem to all snap out of their own worlds in tandem and welcome him back with varying degrees of enthusiasm. You’re just happy to have the attention fully off you for a bit because you’re still shaking and your eyes are red and-

“Hey y/n, you alright?”Felix asks with a worried pout. you don’t even have time to think about an acceptable answer before Minho is rubbing your head again, those same sharp nails tracing your scalp and saying.

“She’s alright, just got a little banged up from helping me in the kitchen”

#skz #skz hard thoughts #han jisung hard hours #han jisung x reader #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung smut #lee know hard thoughts #lee know x reader #lee know smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #han jisung fic #lee minho fic #skz han jisung #skz lee minho

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autisticayin · 4 months

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all of you is all of me

#lc carmen #lobotomy corporation #art floor rejects #first drawing of 2024 ig

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michwritesstuff · 4 months

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She’s Gonna Save Me (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)

this is my first ever bridgerton fic! i’ve had such a writer’s block and post grad has been so difficult but listening to music and reading other writers’ works has me feeling inspired! so enjoy my first story in months and first of the new year :)

pairing: female reader (she/her) x Benedict Bridgerton reader x Colin Bridgerton (platonic!)

summary: Benedict contemplates a life pursuing art and living outside the expectations of his family and society. Does he find a wife and settle down or live freely? What happens when he meets someone who can offer him the best of both worlds?

notes/warnings: mention of nudity, alcohol consumption, activities that can be witnessed at Sir Granville’s scandalous studio saoirees…

word count: 2.4k

As the second eldest Bridgerton boy, Benedict never found himself extremely pressured by the standards and expectations of society. Those responsibilities were entrusted upon his brother, Anthony, the Viscount.

Benedict reserved himself to a more romantic life, preoccupied by his love and interest for art.

Attending every event of the season was merely a ploy to keep his mother happy and distracted from the fact that he had no true intention of courting any ladies.

He would drink, laugh, and dance the season away without ever calling on anyone.

Benedict believed that this season wouldn’t be any different.

******

When you first agreed to join your family friends across the Atlantic in London, you didn’t expect that you would be taking part in the ton’s social season.

As the youngest daughter, your brothers married with children and sisters off tending to their new husbands, your father didn’t feel the need to arrange a marriage for social or monetary gain.

Your family was well off in the states, your parents often described as ‘free spirits.’ They had always impressed upon you the importance of appreciating the beauty around you and romanticizing life.

With your mother’s passing, you decided to stay at home with your father, choosing to enjoy a quiet life in the country studying English literature.

Staying with Sir Henry Granville was beyond exciting and allowed you to interact and mingle with the more eclectic members of British society.

You had lasted all but a week before you were called upon by a Miss Lady Danbury.

She had stressed the importance of participating in the social season and the impending judgment of the ton and Queen if you did not participate.

While you never cared much for the opinion of others, you didn’t fancy the idea of being ogled every time you ventured into town.

******

“I heard she was rejected by every suitor.”

“She’s so ugly and unpleasant, a dowry wouldn’t even be worth it.”

“Apparently she’s slightly deformed.”

You couldn’t begin to believe the rumors circulating about you, the American.

You swore that the descriptions were ripped out of a storybook, describing some gremlin crawling from the depths of the earth.

Men and women alike had no problem spreading stories about the young lady joining them for the season.

Worst of all, none of them had even seen you yet. The modiste had made personal house calls, as requested by Lady Danbury.

Now you stood, in front of the carriage, at the first ball of the season, your debut.

You followed behind Sir Henry and Mary Granville, head held high and eyes straight forward as you waded through the ballroom towards Lady Danbury and the Queen.

You heard the whispers and felt the stares as you stood before the queen.

With one leg behind the other and your arms laid at your side, you gently bent your knee and curtsied before her.

She gave you a once over before bowing her head back, a silent approval.

Moving out of the way, you stood at the edge of the dance floor as Lady Danbury approached.

“Miss y/l/n, I do hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of securing you a few gentlemen to fill out your dance card.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Lady Danbury” you smiled back, a teasing tone in your voice.

Your sarcasm and apprehension towards the season had not gone unnoticed by Lady Danbury.

She quite admired your wit and sharp mind, and more than anything, enjoyed the challenge.

******

You were now on your 4th dance of the night; your feet were hurting, and you wanted nothing more than to be curled up with a book.

Fortunately, your current dance partner was not completely awful and was actually quite charming.

Colin Bridgerton.

You had met him once before, in passing, when Lady Danbury had brought you to meet his mother, Violet, and sister, Daphne.

Apparently, Daphne had been named the Diamond of the season in her first season out on society and married a Duke.

His younger sister, Eloise, was preparing for her first season as well.

However, through your brief encounter with Eloise she did not seem as happy with the matter as her sister and mother were.

You had a feeling she would be a good person to befriend.

“Tell me about yourself Miss y/l/n” Colin inquired.

“Y/N,” you quickly corrected.

“Just Y/N is fine,” you smiled slightly.

“Well Y/N, how are you finding London and the beginning of the season?”

“London, well its quite beautiful. There is so much art, and history, and the architecture is amazing. Truly, I wouldn’t mind getting lost here. And well…this—” you paused, glancing around the ball at all the young women around you.

“May I be frank?” you asked, Colin’s eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Of course, Miss Y/N”

“I slightly detest all of this, my feet hurt, and I’ve been dancing for quite too long. Why would I want to marry someone I’ve met one time?”

Colin was slightly taken aback before grinning wildly.

“You remind me of my sister Eloise,” he stated.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I quite liked her,” you grinned back.

As the dance ended you curtsied before Colin as he bowed before you.

“I hope you find the person you’re looking for Y/N, but I have a feeling you don’t need all of this to do so.”

You smiled widely and slightly nodded before following him off the dance floor.

“I’ll grab us a drink,” he said before walking away. Your eyes followed his back for a few seconds before scanning the room.

They quickly landed on two men whispering in the corner.

The slightly shorter one had massive sideburns and a quizzical look that seemed as if it must be permanently etched onto his face. The other man had a certain air about him.

Even from across the room his light-colored eyes had a shine in them.

Colin returned; you thanked him before looking to the corner again. This time the slightly taller one had caught your gaze and lifted his eyes to meet yours. You felt your face flush and quickly turned your head.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“Who are those two men in the corner?”

Colin looked up to see his brothers in the corner looking at him inquisitively.

“Oh, those two? You don’t want to be near the likes of them. Poorly mannered and when they were younger, they would wet the bed for years well beyond what was normal.”

You were following along for a while until that last part.

You gave Colin a quick look to see if he was being serious.

His mouth remained flat and tight-lipped for a few mere seconds before letting through a boisterous laugh.

“My apologies Y/N, those are my brothers.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“Your brothers?”

“Yes, lets introduce you,” he stated, beginning to pull you across the ballroom.

“Colin, No I—"

“Brothers, this is Miss y/l/n, Anthony, Benedict,” he pointed out.

You curtsied before both of them before speaking up.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine Colin.”

You weren’t sure what his brothers would say about your slight improperness. It was clear that the Bridgerton’s were a well-respected family in the ton.

You glanced at the eldest brother who you learned was named Anthony who gave you a curt nod before excusing himself to sneak off from an inquiring Lady Danbury.

You smiled at him before turning your gaze to the second eldest Bridgerton.

“Y/N here was telling me about her studies in the states. She is well-read and well-traveled.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing Colin slightly.

“You flatter me, Colin. Unfortunately, I am not perfect. For example, I am about done with all of this and was just about to call a carriage.”

“Oh, but you must stay for one more dance Y/N. Poor Benedict here has not waltzed once.”

Benedict tried to sneakily hit his brother for his clear meddling.

“While that may be true, I do not need my younger brother imposing on such a lovely lady.” Benedict states.

“Nonsense, everyone must waltz at least once,” you laughed, pulling Benedict towards the center of the room.

His eyes widened at your forwardness as he shot Colin a disapproving brotherly look, to which Colin gave him a grin and thumbs up.

As the music began you moved around the room with Benedict.

“So, Mr. Bridgerton, tell me what exactly it is you do.”

“Just Benedict is fine,” he stated, mirroring your words from earlier.

“Besides, aren’t I the one who should be questioning you about your skills?”

“That’s awfully backwards thinking, I hope you don’t get stuck that way” you replied sarcastically before being spun around.

When you returned facing Benedict, a knowing grin was stuck on his face. You were witty. He liked witty.

“I suppose that is fair. I’m an artist, well…I’m trying to be an artist. It’s a little complicated.”

You nodded understandingly, while the arts were enjoyed by many, it wasn’t exactly a noble pursuit, especially for you as a woman.

“You should come by Sir Granville’s studio, it’s quite…”

You couldn’t think of a proper word to describe the soirees Granville hosted. It was taboo and scandalous to most respectable members of society. However, if Benedict was an artist as he was claiming, he should fit right in.

“…inspiring,” you finished.

Benedict gave you an interesting look.

Little did you know, he had been to Granville’s studio, several times.

He hadn’t been in a while since his family had just returned from Aubrey Hall and the preparation for Eloise’s season had been quite hectic for his mother.

But you, picturing you at Granville’s studio was not something Benedict had imagined.

Women who were married or of low social standing was something else, but you, a young lady in her first official season stalking down the halls in such a disreputable manner. It didn’t fit the picture of the beautiful woman before him.

Benedict was quickly learning not to try and categorize you into one box.

“What do you know of Granville’s studio?” he asked seriously.

“Well, for one, I’m staying there. Two, I feel more comfortable among that community than here, if you understand what I mean…” you trail off.

Benedict gives you a small smile of understanding.

As the song ends Benedict lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before sightly lowering it back down, fingers brushing softly as he pulls away.

“Until next time Y/N”

“I look forward to it Benedict.”

******

Two months had passed since Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. In that time you had befriended Eloise and Colin Bridgerton, often sitting in the parlor room of their home during the daytime, chatting the day away.

As such, you had also grown closer to Penelope Featherington who also came over often. You always considered yourself to be quite perceptive, so it was evidently clear that Penelope was fond of Colin. You thought about mentioning something, but it didn’t seem like your place.

Throughout your time at the Bridgerton’s household you had seen Benedict a handful of times. Unfortunately, your encounters were reduced to small greetings, stolen glances and light brushes as you walked past each other.

Until today.

You were sitting in the empty parlor room as Eloise ran to her room to fetch some ‘evidence’ and ‘clues’ about Lady Whistledown.

“Good Afternoon Y/N” Benedict greeted as he walked in, taking a quick look around the room to find the two of you alone.

“Afternoon Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted back, a slight teasing tone to contrast your seemingly formality.

He gave you a knowing look before continuing.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but I plan on attending Sir Granville’s tonight, I was wondering if I would see you there?”

You gave him a teasing smile before your face fell into a serious and hurt look.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m appalled, would a respectable young woman such as myself be caught there? Imagine the horror if the rest of the ton were to find out.”

He let out a loud laugh at your remark, in the short time that he had known you, you never failed to make him laugh.

“Yes Benedict, I’ll see you there,” you smiled.

“Good,” he replied.

******

That night you had a few drinks to help you take the edge off before guests started coming over. There was something about interacting with Benedict that made you nervous.

You were walking around the art studio observing the nude model and the artists renditions when you felt someone lay their hand on your shoulder.

“OH! Oh my, Benedict, you scared me.”

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to startle you.”

You continued walking around the circle, admiring the art around you.

“She’s stunning, is she not?” you questioned.

“She is,” he answered quickly.

However, when you turned to look at him his eyes were already trained on yours.

You smiled widely, walking out of the studio as Benedict followed like a lost puppy.

“Will I ever get to see your art?” you asked him.

He smiled sheepishly as his arm reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

“I certainly would let you, if there was any.”

“Practicing here for a few months and you still have nothing to show?” you teased.

Benedict gave you a look.

“I may have asked around about you,” you confessed.

“And?” he asks.

From what you have heard, both from his siblings and other people around you. Benedict was a kind and creative soul, with a great appreciation for the beauty around him.

“Your family and friends speak highly of you, that’s important.”

“What about you? What do you speak of me?”

“Besides being a tortured artist? I think highly of you.”

He nodded his head again, before responding.

“I think highly of you as well,” he whispered quietly, leaning down slightly so he was more at eye level.

You blamed the alcohol in your system for what you did next.

Yanking him down by his collar, you pulled him close and reached up until your lips were flush against his, pushing with all your might as if you would never kiss him again.

“Y/N—” he pulled away, his senses flooding back.

“This is…no, I’ve dishonored you I—”

“Oh hush Benedict, I do not care about those rules. I want you.”

He looked down at you, holding your face in his hands as he searched your eyes for confirmation.

Biting your lip and grinning up at him, Benedict couldn’t help but pull you back in, one hand sinking to your waist to pull you closer, the other rested on your cheek.

“You know this means we have to get married now?” Benedict teases.

“That means you presume I would say yes,” you teased back.

His smile grew impossibly bigger as he pulled you back in for a tender kiss.

“Let’s just see how you perform tonight before we think about marriage” you joked.

Benedict pulled back with a smirk and look in his eye you haven’t seen yet as he looked you over.

“Art is all about practicing and perfecting, we might need to practice a few times before you make your final judgement” he teased back.

You threw your head back in surprise, a large laugh leaving your lips before you smiled sweetly at him.

This was not how you imagined the social season going.

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

#teentvimagines #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton masterlist #bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #Spotify

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cupcakeinat0r · 4 months

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Broadway Baby ch. 1

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Fem!reader

Summary: Reader is a broadway performer in Nueva York. You’re a rising star. One morning, during a rehearsal, you stumble upon an unexpected, yet highly welcomed visitor.

Warnings: SFW? This is a plot building chapter, srry <3 Insinuations of masturbation toward end tho!!!

Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Miguel is a filthy rich single dilf (girl dinner), Age Gap fo sho (20 + 32), reader is a Latina (written by a Latina), Gabriella is his daughter in this one, soft n happy Miguel bc ion do that trauma mess. He only knows happiness and peace in my mind palace<3

Word count: 4.4k

Ch. 2

Nueva York.

The city that never sleeps.

You moved here when you were just 18, with a suitcase and big dreams.

It would’ve been when you were 14, your parents had taken you to the big city to watch a musical on Broadway. It was that faithful night you realized your calling. That moment changed the entire trajectory of your life.

You fell in love with it. The music, the lights, the sets, the performance of it all. It was pure magic. You were entranced from the first note of the overture to the very last bow of the lead player.

There was just one problem: you had the confidence of a chicken nugget.

Since the womb, you’d been a very quiet child, extremely soft spoken when acknowledged, so when you told your parents your dream occupation, they were a bit skeptical. Nonetheless, they were both extremely supportive, especially after that one night when your mom overheard some singing in your shower.

She had been in your room, collecting dirty laundry when she heard a beautiful melody coming from your bathroom. Curious as to what song it was, she pressed the shell of her ear against the door. Still not able to hear the lyrics exactly, she cracked open the door, looking around for a speaker, only to find none. It clicked. It wasn’t some blue-tooth equipped music, but her daughter’s voice. Your voice. You’d been singing the songs from the show they took you to. Her jaw fell open. Never had she heard you produce such beautiful sounds. She made sure not to make her presence known since she knew if she did, you’d surely stop vocalizing out of embarrassment.

You were signed up for voice lessons immediately.

Ever since then, you’d been training, dance and acting classes following shortly after that. It became clear that your talent was a blessing from above after hearing teacher after teacher praising about your prodigious abilities.

4 hard working years later, you decided to spread your wings, kiss mom and dad goodbye, and start your career. A small apartment in Nueva York became home. It was lacking a good AC system and the floors were creaky, but it was an affordable start.

It’s been another 2 years since moving to Nueva York. Each phone call home, your parents are delighted to hear about your accomplishments, happy to hear that you’re in a steady place on your path to stardom. You’ve been in a few shows now, landing supporting roles, featured dancing gigs, and so on… but you’ve yet to land that big lead. Your big break. It’ll come though. Patience.

Raw talent could only get you so far in this business. The only thing that seems to matter nowadays is connections and nepotism. You had to stop cowering in your shell and start networking yourself somehow. It was difficult, being the introvert that you were. If only the persona you embodied on the stage carried over into your every day life. When you’re on stage, you’re a complete different person; almost a character. That’s why you loved doing what you did so much. You felt comfortable on that stage, free to be whoever you wanted to be. It was your sanctuary.

Life in the arts was never safe or secure, and you knew that when you decided to sell your soul to this industry. Despite the endless auditions (rejections) and multiple part-time jobs, you loved your life. You loved being an actress in Nueva York. It gave main-character vibes. You had a part-time job as a waitress downtown during the day, and at night, you’d switch out your apron for a costume that didn’t leave much for imagination. You were currently a featured dancer and supporting character in the city’s most popular musical. You’d remind yourself that many aspiring actors would commit heinous crimes to be in a similar place in their careers as yours. It wasn’t no starring role, but hey, it was something.

Life was good. You were happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was just another day, alike all the others on the 2nd year of your 3-year contract in the Musical you were in. It was simple really:

You wake up, do your day time skin care routine, warm-up your voice, brush teeth, put your apron on for the Stardust diner, wait a few tables from 9-5, your house call was at 5:30 so you’d take the train and show up at 5:25, stretched, warmed-up your voice some more, and be ready in the wings by curtain call.

This was the part you looked forward to every day. That minute you stand behind those velvety curtains, heels and exaggerated lashes and all. The sticky residue of the tape that keeps your mic attached to your neck. The sparkles on your body that never seems to come off, even though you shower after every show. The astronomical amount of hairspray that you’d have to brush through when you got home. You loved it all.

When those curtains opened, a new person was born. Ingrained into the crevices of your brain, the muscle memory within your body would perform the dance moves you’ve been repeating for 7 nights in a row for 2 years.

And you’d deliver the same lines you always delivered ( and ate all of them like you always did), and your voice, like an angel. You sang your heart out, the applause fueling your energy and nourishing your soul (and maybe even your ego).

The beauty of live theater is that every show is different. One of the many aspects you loved about it included the audience members; each night, the crowd was different. Today, in particular, there was a young girl in the front row, sitting right in front of where you were dancing. She looked up at you in the same way you looked at those actors all those years ago, with that same awe in her eyes. Noticing her, you flashed her a wink and a smile while performing. You even managed a small wave, which granted an excited expression from her. The little girl, practically bouncing in her seat, then looked up to the large, dark figure sitting next to her, enthusiastically pulling on the black jacket of what seems to be her guardian. “The pretty lady waved at me!” is what her lips read.

This was a normal occurrence for you. You made it a priority to at least engage with some of the youth in the audience if you happened to pass by any. It was for them you performed, after all. It was always so endearing seeing their cute little reactions to the show.

This time was a little more special, though. She reminded you of yourself when you were that age. Down to the tan skin, brown eyes, and dark hair, pulled into a tight ponytail.

You felt this connection to her. It was inexplainable. In one of the dance numbers, you sort of gravitated around that relative area in front of her, interacting with her. You made that girl so happy. This was a night she’d never forget.

With the show coming to a close, you take your final bow for what seems like the millionth time, but it never ceases to feel like the first.

Curtains close, the cast comes together, and you all rejoice in another victorious performance.

You all retreat back to your dressing rooms, hastily wiping off make up, the stripping of fishnets and jazz shoes taking up majority of the already small dressing room.

It wasn’t abnormal for people to come up to you after the show and congratulate you on such a successful portrayal. Sometimes, though, it could be a lot. Sometimes, you just wanted to go home and body slam your twin bed. Not tonight, though. Standing yay high in a line of audience members awaiting autographs was the little girl. When both of your eyes met, your face instantly brightened, hers twice as much. She jumped up and down, again tugging at the towering figure’s jacket, exclaiming, “Look, papa! It’s her! It’s her!”, and you followed the direction of the adorable juvenile voice with a wide smile.

You walked up to her and knelt down to her level, speaking with a voice that could be compared to that of a Disney princess. As you approach the precious young girl, your maternal instincts slowly kick in. You couldn’t help it; you loved engaging with the kids.

“Oh, I remember you! You’re the pretty girl sitting in the front row! Did you enjoy the show?” You ask with a friendly smile. The girl looks at you all starstruck, her cute smile reaching from ear to ear as you tell her you remember her. “H-hi! I loved it! You were really good!” She professes, her dimples adorning her face. “Can I have an autograph?” She asked shyly, presenting the playbill that the ushers hand out to the audience and a pen. Just when you’re about to happily oblige, you see a hand reach down to her shoulder, followed by a low, soft voice,

“That’s not how we ask, mi Vida.”

Your eyes begin a path from the strong hand that rests on the little girl’s shoulder, up a Herculean arm clothed in what looks like black cashmere (it was cold out), next were his broad shoulders, preceding a sharp jaw and the most plump, dark pair of lips you’d ever lay eyes on, across a tanned, sculpted face, until you got to those deep brown, almost crimson eyes. You stared for a little too long, only managing a smile and a soft chuckle, a combo that you’ve practiced in the mirror countless of times in case an agent wanted to make their presence known.

The man looked like a model. Couldn’t have been over his early 30’s, easily standing over 6 feet tall, and from the looks of it, took very good care of his body. He was covered in a black trench coat, more black, yet much more fitted clothing worn under, but you could tell he was hiding massive muscles under it all. You just knew it. The man was freakishly huge, towering over the both of you, making you feel small especially since you were on your knees. His luscious dark hair was slicked back, a hint of greying on the sides, and one strand detached from the rest, falling down his forehead.

“Oh, sorry, papa. May I have an autograph, please?” She corrected herself, holding out the playbill and marker further out. You looked back down at her again, regaining your composure. Taking that she just called him ‘papa’, you assumed he must’ve had a mrs waiting back home, so you clocked this as an admire-from-afar situation. You tried to steal a glance at his hands to see if maybe there was a ring, but he was wearing gloves. Womp Womp. Oh well, whatever, back to the adorable girl in front me, you think.

“Of course you can, beautiful!” You exclaim, accepting the playbill and pen from her. You speak as you write your signature and a short note, “so what’s your name, mama?” (‘Mama’ can be a way of referring to someone younger than you). She looks at you with amazement as you’re focused on writing on the cast list page of the playbill, “My name is Gabriella”, she responds, to which you say, “What a gorgeous name! My name is y/n. How old are you Gabriella?” She seems to be so shocked that you, the coolest person she’s ever seen, wanted to have a conversation with her. “I’m six! I’ll be seven in seven days!” She says proudly. “Oh, such a big girl you are! Happy early birthday! What‘s your favorite thing to do, Gabriella?” You ask her as you finish the note, closing it and letting it sit in your hand as you focus on her now.

She visibly thinks hard, pursing her lips as she comes up with an answer. “Hmm… I really like to draw. I also like to play outside when I leave school and-and…” she twiddles her fingers as she adds,” -and I love to dance! Me and my papa dance at home a lot! You’re a way better dancer than him!” She giggles, looking up at him with a playful grin. He looks down at her with a loving smile, letting a velvety chuckle slip from his lips, allowing a perfect view of his dreamy smile. You could tell the two shared a beautiful relationship. He looked at her like she was his whole world, his hand caressing the top of her head affectionately. This little girl had this big strong man wrapped around her tiny finger, and you softened at the sight. He was probably an amazing dad… Jesus, who ever is sitting at home waiting for him really has scored the jackpot. Lucky.

“Aw, that sounds like fun! And as for your father, it just takes lots of practice, that’s all, mamita. As a matter of fact, I practiced for six years!” I say, holding out six fingers as I say it. She gasps at this fact about your training, her eyes wide. “Six years?! That’s like, forever!” She says. “Do I have to practice for six years to be good like you?” She inquires, her brows raised, waiting for your educated and professional answer. You carefully think of an answer, knowing anything you say could forever stay with this sweet girl. Words that you feel you would’ve appreciated at her age came to your mind, “Well, Gabriella, that’s hard to say. Time is different for everyone. The best thing to do when you want to follow your dreams is to simply be the best version of yourself. No need to copy anyone else. If you do that, you can absolutely do anything your lil heart desires, okay?” You finish, nodding your head, awaiting her confirmation.

You don’t notice, but her dad is watching the two of you interact, and he simply smiles at the exchange. He could tell you had a way with kids. He studied the way you spoke, the way you smiled at her, both being so genuine. He was entranced by you. He loved how engaging you were. You were truly creating a magical core memory for his daughter, and he was beyond appreciative of that.

Her mother had passed away of cancer when she was only 2, so she never truly got to meet her, or had a maternal figure in her life for that matter, so seeing her interact with this kindhearted actress was nice. Seeing the two of you interact reminded him of how important it was for Gabriella to have a female figure in her life. There was no doubt that you were a drop dead gorgeous woman as well, and by the accent he picked up on, it was evident that you were of Latin descent. You had that natural motherly charm to your essence. He was captivated by your presence on the stage already, but now that he was up close with you, he was beginning to feel like a high school boy with a crush. Stunning? Talented? A Latina? AND Gabriella was crazy about her? It had him thinking for sure.

Gabriella absorbs your words like a sponge, clinging on to every syllable. She smiles at you, breaking out in a fit of precious giggles. “Okay!” And with that, you give her playbill back, as well as her pen.

“Take a picture with her, sweetie.” You hear the mysterious, definitely-not-on-the-market dilf say. Gabriella nods eagerly with a, “ohmigosh, yes!”, and you reply with a warm, “definitely! How would you like to pose? Is this okay for you, mama?” You ask her, your hands hovering over her shoulders as she stands in front of you. You didn’t want to touch her unless she gave you an ‘ok’. Once she nods, you gently place your hands on her shoulders, still kneeling on one knee as you smile for the phone her dad was holding. You lower your face down to be next to hers. In the couple of seconds you sat there frozen for the picture, you could’ve sworn her dad had looked you up and down, his eyes stuck on your butt, but you decide to dismiss it. He might’ve just been making sure you were in the frame, is all.

Let’s be real for a second, the photo wasn’t for the record of Gabriella’s memories more than it was for her father’s own indulgence. He was totally thinking about looking back at this picture later and gush about your looks.

Gabriella turns around and asks one more question. “C-can we hug?” She asks timidly. You visibly melt at the request, “Aw, yes, of course we can, mamita!”, she quickly wraps her tiny little arms around you, and yours around her, “Thank you so much for coming to the show! I’m so happy you enjoyed it!” You say, her face still nuzzled into the softness of your sweater as you caress her tiny ponytail. When she pulls away, she only smiles, looking up at you like you were a fairy princess out of a storybook and a unicorn was gonna pull up and carry you away.

“What do we say, mija?” The beautiful man said.

“Thank you, y/n!” She sweetly adds.

You stand now, smiling down at her with your hand gently lifting her chin,“Remember, mama, you can do anything. Don’t let anyone tell you different, okay?” The cutie patootie nods, her smile still plastered on her face and her now signed playbill held tightly to her chest. “Okay. Have a goodnight, Gabriella,” you stand up straight now, your face only reaching up to the chest of her dad, giving him a warm smile as you try to maintain casual eye contact with the Greek god in front of you. Even now that you’re standing, he still towers over you. Lord have mercy, this man was makin you nervous in all the good ways. Thank God you knew how to act. “Thank you so much for coming to the show!“

The man looked down at you and flashed you a dashing smile in return, his gaze narrow yet soft. He then had the audacity to throw in a wink, opening his mouth to say, “No, no, thank you for a wonderful performance. You were absolutely breathtaking.” His gaze was borderline flirtatious, a blush creeping up on your cheeks, but you had to stay professional. Besides, he was totally married already. This was a simple, friendly compliment, one of hundreds you heard each night.

You look down at the floor for a second, in efforts to cover any blushing, a humble wave of your hand leading your reply, “Aw, I really appreciate that. You’re too kind, Thank you! You two get home safe now, I’d hate for either of you to get a cold!” You say, closing the conversation. You wave at the both of them, Gabriella waving the hardest of the three. Her father, on the other hand, seemed like he was distracted by you, not realizing his daughter was yanking on his coat to leave. The dad quickly snaps back to reality and says goodnight to you, and they make their way into the bustling street.

As you’re about to tend to other autographs, you can’t help but overhear Gabriella talk to her father as they leave. You could’ve sworn Gabriella’s words were, “Papa, were you making googly eyes at y/n?” To which her father replied with a chuckle and, “What? That’s silly, mi vida, now look where you’re going and hold onto my hand, por favor”, he said, brushing off her question. “She’s very pretty.” “Yes, she is, isn’t she?” He admits. That was the last of the conversation you heard. You found yourself smiling, internally celebrating because this fine ass man finds you pretty. Too bad he’s taken…right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After signing a few playbills and posters and bidding a farewell to some other audience members, you made your way back to the little studio apartment you called home, instantly beginning to knock out the second your head hit the pillow.

Before falling asleep, thoughts of the mystery man filled your mind, recollecting that chiseled jaw, those soft lips, muscles begging to break free from his button down dress shirt. His deep silky voice rang in your head, doing the opposite of lulling you to sleep. Your mind starting settling in the gutter, imagining that deep voice saying sweet yet disgusting things in your ear and those large, calloused hands removing your underwear instead of your own dainty hands. You can imagine his huge body just completely enveloping yours on the bed, him on top, and those soft lips planting wet, lazy kisses along your neck and other much more sensitive places. It was creating a heat within your core, your thighs shamefully pressing against each other to help relieve a growing tension that crept up from a single thought of his intense gaze; those eyes that could make your inexperienced self burst within seconds. You liked to think he’d talk you through it, only igniting the fire in between your legs even more.

Am I seriously fantasizing about a man I exchanged like 3 words with right now? You say to yourself. I don’t even know his name.

He was just so goddamn FIONE.

You’ve had your fair share of attractive men in the city. It’s Nueva York. And you worked in the performance industry. You were bound to see a 10/10 or two. But this guy… This man would’ve made you drool had you not had an adorable munchkin there to distract you. This man was a 10000/10. He had you contemplating whether or not you were gonna slip a hand into your panties tonight he was that good looking.

You were a virgin. You had spent half your life devoting it to the arts and your craft, so much so that you never got to the whole dating thing. You almost completely forgot about that part of the thing called ‘social life’. All you knew was practice, eat, workout, repeat. The opportunity definitely has presented itself, but you’ve declined because:

A) You weren’t ready to share yourself with someone. You wanted to focus on your career. Or

B) The man wasn’t up to your standards. You couldn’t be with someone unless you saw a future with them. You never really understood hook up culture. You could care less if other people preferred it, it just wasn’t your style.

So here you were, in bed, a hesitant hand slowly making its way to the now wet spot of your panties. You can’t remember the last time you let loose like this…

Yea, you gave in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you didn’t have your 9-5, however, you were called to perform both the matinee and late night show. You showed up early to the house, stretching and warming up along with the rest of the cast.

Already in your own head space as you meditate in a child’s pose, you start picking up some whispering amongst your costars. You lift your head, opening your eyes to eavesdrop.

“Did you hear about the donation this morning? A whopping $10k. I wonder who was it!” One of them says. Another one notices your attention and includes you in the conversation.

“Y/n, do you know about it?” but you only shrug, this being the first you’ve heard about it.

Another one chimes in, “heard it’s a hella loaded guy from Alchemax… he’s like a CEO or something-“ “Alchemax? As in the Laboratory? What’s a science nerd want with a theater troupe?” “Well doesn’t matter, what matters is we can finally update our sets and costumes, hallelujah.”

Your eyes dart from one cast mate to another as more information and whispers flood the stage.

Another one, who’s currently in a middle split, interjects, “Y’all do realize this means he gets a part of the house, right? He’s basically a producer at this point.”

“I thought it was just a donation-“ “the directors thought so, too, but then I overheard them discussing business plans. He wants in for sure, why? Have no idea. Total eye candy, though.” “Well, it might be good for us to have a businessman on our side-“

“Good morning, everyone!” Everyone looks over to your bright eyed and bushy tailed director. How can someone be this energetic at this waking hour?

“I don’t mean to interrupt your mingling, but I do bring some stellar news. I want to introduce ya’ll to our new patron of the house!” They say, and next to them appears a familiar tall, dark, and handsome figure adorned in a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and jeans; A man that you remember inappropriately touching yourself to the night before. You inwardly thanked him for blessing you with a better view of the outline of his body: those broad shoulders sloping into the sluttiest waist ever to be found on a man. You had to physically hold back moan from the sight.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Miguel O’Hara.”

You’re gagged. The gorgeous man that thought you were pretty last night was the CEO of Alchemax, and he just became a partner of your theatre. The sudden realization that he’ll be around regularly tied knots in your stomach, but the good kind.

“Now I want you all to make him feel welcomed. He basically just opened his wallet wide open for us, so this show better be flawless.“ your director reprimands, as if y’all aren’t the city’s finest performers already. People around the world came to see you guys.

“Oh, don’t be so harsh on them, the main reason why I donated in the first place was because of the raw talent you have here,” his eyes fell on you when he says this. His voice pierced through the air like a hot knife on butter, his slight accent adding a bit of heat that sent everyone’s heart fluttering. You fought back a blush once again, looking down at the floor due to his powerful gaze. He smiles at your reaction, “It’ll be a pleasure working with all of you. Now, I know it might be strange, seeing that a scientist has just partnered with your house, but please, don’t let my line of work mislead you; I’m a lover of the arts and… all things beautiful.” His eyes once again fall on you for those last few words with that same narrow yet easy gaze. His smirk alone could make you swoon. He had creases that accentuated his brow lines and cheekbones that only added that much more suave to his look. Could be from the surely scowl he constantly held at his work. To the majority, this would just been seen as a sign of aging, but to you, it was hot.

“I look forward to our partnership. Break legs.” And with this he turns and walks away, stealing one last look at you before he’s out of sight. I’d rather you break my back. Your eyes shamelessly follow him, admiring that tight ass in those jeans of his. Dios mio, you think, biting your lip.

You know, for a virgin, you had the mind of a whore.

You couldn’t believe it. Your cast mate next to you could, though, as they shot you a knowing look, to which you nudged them embarrassingly.

“Seems like our hot new patron likes you, y/n.”

“Stop it!” You rebut along with a roll of your eyes, your friend stifling a laugh. You were in denial. You’d be lying if you said you disagreed. The man was definitely eyeing you, and now you were a flustered mess. However, now that he wasn’t wearing gloves, you can confidently say you don’t remember seeing a ring…

bingo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope u wike it <3

Enjoy this appetizer, more to cum<3

Mwah<3

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