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monzamash · 1 year

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ruin the friendship — charles leclerc

summary – maybe you were a little more than friends but that was between you, charles and god. nobody else. and you refused to be the one to break the pact. pairing – charles leclerc x you (female reader) rating – 18+ (smut, language, sexual references, probably bad french/italian) word count – 2.5k a/n – “we passed being friends like 20 fucks ago” requested by anon. thank you! masterlist

“Everybody get changed for dinner and we will meet downstairs at the restaurant in an hour. Le Bein?”

The group of nearly a dozen of Charles’ co-workers, employees and friends all nodded in agreement and went their separate ways in the foyer, buzzing about how beautiful the resort was. And it was truly magnificent. Extravagance fortified every wall, even the ceilings. Chandeliers dangling from the rafters above, sparkling and flaunting the huge amount of wealth that was stashed away in the Italian Alps. Eye-watering amounts of wealth.

You weren’t enamoured like the rest because simplicity was more your taste, minimalist living was the way of the future and you weren’t afraid to voice that to Charles as he walked up beside you, eyes trained on your rolling ones. His hand was dangerously hovering above your lower back, the large puffy jacket the only thing keeping his hot touch barricaded from your cool skin – he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s over the top but Ferrari is paying for all of it,” He whispered into your ear, too close for your comfort, especially around his brothers who were no doubt watching your every move – adamantly sceptical that you and Charles were just friends.

“I should report you for misuse of company funds, sir. And if anyone from work asks why I was here when we get back next week – it was a coincidence. Purely happenstance.”

“Si,” Charles drawlled, toggling between his native tongue and Italian, which always threw you off, “You coming up to my room after dinner will just be some luck too, yes?”

You could hear the smirk on his face before you let your eyes glance his way, breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck and again, standing way too close for a pair of colleagues who, by chance, had accidentally found themselves in the same place, at the same time. That was the story and you were sticking with it. Unfortunately Charles was a horrible actor – that much was obvious since the moment he sparked up this unlikely romance with you but in his defence, his impulses were intensified after weeks of being away from you. And you felt the same.

The relationship wasn't exclusive by any stretch of the imagination in the beginning, but as time went on, you became loyal to each other. The friends with benefits label was a facade for the public and for your employment but deep down, you both knew there was more to your relationship than just sex. You knew each other so intimately and spent hours staying up ‘til dawn, sharing your deepest, darkest secrets. He made you feel safe, like you were more than just a girl who happened to work for the same company he worked for. It was easy to get swept up in the lavish lifestyle and reap the benefits that came with it but Charles saw you differently – saw life differently. And to him, you were the missing piece to his puzzle.

You were friends’ first – great friends but he was charming and by far the most attractive man you’d ever laid your two eyes on. And by some miracle, he felt the same way about you. But all of that meant your friendship had been compromised, your working relationship was hanging in the balance because if either of you caught feelings and made them public, then you’d have to report it to HR and you didn’t want to lose what you had.

Because sneaking around was kind of hot. Or really hot if you asked Charles and you didn’t want to burst his bubble. You weren’t that selfish and truth be told, you enjoyed the thrill of it. The secret glances from across a table when you were supposed to be taking notes, subtle touches whenever he complimented your suggestions in a meeting and riskiest of all, the quick fucks in his drivers’ room between qualifying blocks. That had unabashedly become a perk of your job and a scandal waiting to be blown wide open but you loved it.

“I think it might just be your lucky day, Leclerc,” You replied and looked away from the man who was seconds away from exposing your secret, calling off dinner and dragging you up to his room for dessert. But he was better than that and obviously he could control himself for a couple more hours. Surely.

“See you soon then.”

He looked like a man tortured when you walked into the restaurant, all of your glorious curves swaying side to side, eyes on everyone but him. Since simplicity was your style, you’d gone classic – long, black satin skirt hiding the stilettos you wished you didn’t have to wear, paired with a black blazer and a white, lacy bustier top underneath. It was a fancy establishment, which meant everyone was done up to the nines, their best attire on display and you were pleasantly surprised that Charles hadn't caved to the pressure of appearances, marching to the beat of his own drum in a basic black tee. He still looked as delicious as the aperitini he’d already ordered for you, eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“For me?” You asked him politely, feigning surprise even though these were the little things he would do for you in place of physical touch.

“Of course.” He smiled, delighted that you took the seat directly across from him and not the one being offered to you by his annoying younger brother.

You are beautiful, he mouthed once everyone returned to their 'round the table small talk. You are. Charles had you blushing and fidgeting with your thin gold chain, as if it was first time he'd ever said that to you. It wasn't but it still had you squirming in your seat, grinning like a lunatic.

The 3-course dinner was sensational, and more than satisfied the hunger you’d conjured up during your long day on the slopes and Charles agreed wholeheartedly. He had also worked up quite the appetite retrieving you from the snow every time you stacked it, brushing the ice from your suit and cheeks, lingering longer than he should have. It was great fun but famishing once you all made it back to the resort.

“All my training has gone down the drain after that meal – my god.” Charles groaned and patted Andrea on the back with a mischievous smile, taunting his trainer and closest confidante. Andrea simply shook his head and muttered something to the effect of vaffanculo before disappearing into the bar with the others, sick of Charles' shit after being stuck with him in the Dolomites for the last 3 weeks.

You and Charles hung back from the group, both waiting for the other to send up the bat signal, or in your case, holding up the three-finger salute. Your first solo hang out – not a date – with Charles was watching the Hunger Games together, snuggled up with a glass of wine. Ever since, your signal to abort mission had been the sign used in that film and more recently it’d become your gesture for sex. Would you have liked it to be a little more sexy? Sure but it did the job.

“People are going to miss you, ma belle,” Charles whispered between the soft kisses he was sloppily pressing to your trembling lips, backing you against the only blank wall in the room.

“Don’t care.” You rasped, moans caught in your dry throat as you felt a pair of cold hands unzipping the long silk skirt you’d worn to dinner and gliding it down your shaky legs like it was as light as a feather.

A small gasp slipped from your lips as you caught Charles’ dark eyes again, his soft laugh fanning warmth across your face, "All I've been able to think about tonight is this..." He stammered off with a smirk before running his hands down your sides, pushing the thin blazer off your shoulders and gaining full access to the length of your neck.

You moaned quietly and brushed your dainty fingers through his soft, dark brown locks, "It's all I've wanted since we got here," You whispered and rested your head back against the wall, enjoying the feeling of his hands smoothing down your to your ass.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Charles growled against the tops of your breasts that were being pushed up by the tight bustier top, leaving you breathless and shaky under his touch. He got off on having complete control over your body, especially like this – desperate and panting for him in the darkness.

Charles dropped down to his knees and pushed his hands up under the hem of your top so he could access the waistband of your panties. You were spellbound now with your eyes closed and heart thumping in your chest, head dizzy and skin sizzling as he trailed his hands down your thighs, gliding your flimsy underwear down far enough that you could step out of them without needing to look.

"So sexy." Charles groaned at the sight of the dark red lace that had been hidden by your skirt, his hot breath now fanning over your shaky legs that were now completely bare and exposed to the cool air, even though your were burning up, "Le rouge n'a jamais été aussi beau." Red never looked so good.

His large hands gripped you thighs and roughly separated them in front of his mouth, every single little movement riling you up even more. Charles was ravenous, hungry to devour your after hours of deprivation – starved of your taste, of his name falling from your lips. He needed it, needed you to sing his praises, beg him for more and you never disappointed.

Your fingers brushed back up the side of his head as he hooked your leg over his shoulder and buried his tongue between your thighs, sending you into overdrive and taking your breath away. Your hands instantaneously gripped the tuft of brown waves on top of his head, trying to control the moans that were threatening to escape your chapped lips, his fingers doing the work of a maestro, orchestrating your body like a symphony.

"Feels so good," You whined as Charles grunted, mouth still attached to your cunt as he readjusted your leg on his strong, muscular shoulder, deepening the achingly perfect angle even further and making your already shaky legs start to tremble with pleasure.

Charles took your sensitive clit between his teeth, gently and pressed his free hand that wasn't clutching your thigh to your stomach, balancing you as best he could as you uncontrollably bucked your hips, riding his perfectly flat tongue. You placed your smaller hand over his and arched into his face, trying to alleviate the knot building in the pit of your stomach. He felt so fucking good and looked even better when you did dare open your eyes, peering down into his sinful ones.

The small smirk that appeared on Charles’ dimpled cheeks when your gaze met his was enough to send you spiralling into a whimpering mess, unable to stop the loud moan that ripped from your constricted throat – you were getting closer with every single teasing stoke he gave you, his thick fingers fucking you into a blackout and you were losing it. He muffled a laugh and didn't relent one bit as you white knuckled his wrist, attempting to hold in the noises that were so close to escaping, jaw clenched.

"I wanna hear you, bella – let me hear you," Charles panted as he glanced up and continued to taunt you, “I want to hear you moaning for me like this for the rest of my fucking life.”

Even in your orgasmic haze, you furrowed your already rutted brows at his comment, head throw back, still whimpering, “Friends don’t say that to each other, Charles.” You breathed, gliding on his unrelenting fingers, his pace slowing as he processed your words.

Charles scoffed and pulled back from your pulsing core, eyes trained on yours as he pressed a sweet kiss to your thigh, voice hoarse. “I think we passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago, baby. You don’t have to pretend when it’s just you and me.”

It took you a second until you nodded silently, agreeing that you didn’t need to keep the act up with him. You brushed your fingers that had been knotted in his thick, beautiful hair, down the sides of his glistening face, lips raw and looking like a mirage.

“I like it when it’s just you and me.”

If you blinked, you thought he may disappear from your vision but he made sure you knew he was real, kitten licking your sensitive bud and reassuring you that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

“Me too.” He whispered.

It didn’t take long for Charles to resume his toe-curling assault, sending every nerve in your system into lockdown as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He’d put both of your feet on the ground, thighs spread as far as they go so you could ride his face, insisting that you came like that for him. The feeling of having every breath suppressed from his lungs while you let yourself go on his tongue, fingernails clawing at the skin on your thighs was worth the rush of blood to his brain. His face was beet-red, pupils blown out and he was achingly hard, scared he was going to blow in his pants like a prepubescent teen.

"Oh my fucking god, Charles," You moaned loudly as he reached up and pressed his palm firmly on your flushed chest, needing to feel your heart thumping under your skin, making him feel alive.

"I've got you."

"I'm – baby, I’m right there!" You cried out, head thrown back against the wall again as Charles eased you through your earth shattering high, panting and sweltering under his touch.

Loud moans echoed through the hotel room as he lapped up everything you had to give, holding you in place and making sure you were completely satisfied before removing his shaky fingers and pressing a couple of pecks to your reddening thighs – no doubt leaving bruises from his tight grip. You couldn’t wait to feel those small reminders of his touch in the morning. It took a good couple of seconds for your mind and body to float back down from the clouds above and god, it was a gorgeous sight when you did come to.

"You are so good at that," You breathed as Charles used your hips to drag himself up off the carpeted floor, hands still clutching your waist to also keep your knees from buckling. He knew you too well.

The sensation of his swollen lips kissing yours brought you back and without hesitation, you hooked your arms over his shoulders and deepened the kiss. His hands snaked around your lower back, bodies flush and you could finally feel how hard he was underneath his trousers.

Knowing Charles was that turned on from making you feel ethereal triggered a proud smirk to sweep across your flushed face, “Would you like some help with this, friend?” You teased, reaching down for the button on his pants, flicking it open with ease.

“It’s what friends are for, no?” He cockily replied before you clutched his stiff cock in your palm, causing him to gasp at the sensation.

“Absolutely would love your help – thank you very much,” Charles quickly added, desperate for your attention as he captured your lips in a rough kiss and nudged your body towards his messy bed.

“That’s what I thought,” You chuckled into the kiss, letting him cash in every single benefit he could imagine. All night long.

let me know what you think!

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #f1 one shot #formula one #formula 1 imagine #monzamashmasterlist #monzamashprompts #f1 smut

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accio-victuuri · 5 months

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11/19/23 updates cpn 🎂🍦🍪

for some reason, today, both of them decided to share on their social media. for wyb, it’s his douyin. for gg it’s weibo + douyin. xzs also posted on their weibo. they didn’t even bother splitting it up like one will post in the morning and the other afternoon/evening. nope. it’s all in the same afternoon.

we were hoping for some 24 hr relay, but these gremlins are like nope. we will just post very closely to each other. for wyb it’s definitely a part of his homework completion. lol. and the fact that he is wearing something evisu related again. how many things did he do during this shoot? 😂 as for ZZ, it seems like he is trying to catch up too? ( douyin stuff are from yuguyao promotion ) nonetheless, we are happy to get stock content.

doing this made them both go on HS. i love seeing their names on HS for stuff like this. (?FYI for wyb it’s more of the “cross dressing” meaning switching clothes.)

now let’s see what else is there….

1. The same use of emojis as captions on there douyin posts as if they really have no time to think of even a word or line to use. lol. tho this kind of caption is not exclusive to them, it’s just nice to see them matching like this on the same day.

2. There are a couple of guesses on what they are “celebrating” today ; what could possibly be the reason for doing this specifically on the 19th.

(p1) it’s wyb’s 105th post on douyin. 10.5 which represents zz’s birthday, so it’s special. that’s why they both posted today. (p2) the day zz shared his japan trip. i think this doesn’t need any more explanation, japan trip cpn is notorious on this fandom. (

(p3 and p4) this one is kind of reaching but it’s one of those 2020 candies that i love and it happened around this time too. 11/18 - 11/19 it was speculated that they spent time together. for those who were here during that time, WYB shared a video (11/20) of him skating and his caption was like i wish i could go skating everyday and then the three dots. WYB loves skateboarding and i don’t doubt that he wishes he can play everyday, but the cpn-colored glasses is wondering if what he is really talking about is skateboarding. or maybe, maybe he was wishing he could spend time with GG everyday or more often. and the three dots, which in turtledom means i miss you just adds fuel to this CPN. The penguin photo was shared by XZ on 11/18 and it’s a piece that people are adding, it is making the heart gesture and could be because XZ is happy to be with WYB.

There is a CPN timeline from that period in 2020 so lemme just refresh people’s memories even if it’s totally irrelevant ( probably ) to this post. I love myself some cpn archaeology. 🔍

11/17 was luoyang opening ceremony so he was kinda busy here but they still got to spend time together. In hindsight, this is very telling, cause there was some heavy speculation that GG was present during Luoyang presscon. If he was there during the opening ceremony for the filming, he might have been introduced to select cast and crew. So it was easier for him to tag along for the press con before the official release cause he knows the people. 11/19 was the release of the wolf and WYB attended the chanel x vogue event. 11/22 GG released a douyin video and we CPN about the curtains and how it’s similar to one of Bobo’s. Again, hotel curtains are not the most reliable measure, i know, but that’s how CPNs work.

11/25, YBO posted alluding to the douban issue of downvoting works. basically manipulating data — look at YBO calling out this practice years before, they know how unreliable DB is. everyone knows. the point is, around this time, The Wolf was getting downvoted by antis.

11/29, an episode of TTXS was aired where WYB said “i can’t give up what i like”. A sentiment that is true in everything he does, from dancing to his other hobbies. No matter how hard it is and even if it seems like everything is against him, he will not give up. The same is true (probably ) with his relationships. 🤍 this episode was filmed 11/22 which was very close to when they allegedly spent time together so the feeling is there ( and there is a whole different cpn for that day too lol ).

In 2019, GG’s Bazaar promo was release where he said that he saw his love in a dream ( i don’t think this needs any explanation ) and 2021 they also posted around the same time and both are transitions.

This is all guess work, they could be posting for the simple reason of KPI or their studios scrambling to get their bosses to be visible online 😂😂😂 BUT THE POINT IS, there seems to be significant things happening during this time and always including 11/19 between them. ✨ It fits the pattern we have been seeing for years.

3. WYB’s 105th post on Douyin and GG’s 1050 post on Weibo. 🤡🤡🤡

4. The use of a light in their hands as an element to their post. For WYB it’s a transition to change clothes and for GGs it’s more of a sunshine/light.

They share the same brain cell. Lol. and BXGs are so good cause there is already an art for it.

5. I love how XZ was like i don’t wanna be doing this while filming the Douyin. goes to show what happens behind the scenes and how similar he & WYB are. in the video, XZ was asking his staff “is this viral?” and they respond with “really viral” and he proceeds to make faces like he can’t believe 🤣🤣🤣 If he only knew, the most random things go viral. and he probably didn’t want to do it cause it had the cute vibe to it.

Similar to WYB, he prefers the cool transitions and he is someone who will not be willing to do a douyin trend. Both of them would rather share things they love like photos of places or their hobbies.

The lyrics for GG’s video is:

oh no oh no i haven’t talked to my baobei

baobei, what are you doing?

muah are you there? are you asleep?

baobei, what are you doing?

why aren’t you replying?”

Going by the theme of the song, missing someone, his baobei who is not replying lol is this a shout out to WYB? 😅

Anyway, it’s being linked to WYB’s post. The whole transition with the phone light he is doing was said to be popular in 2021. There is a couple version, which means two people are doing it and the BGM used is a song i will still miss you.

youtube

Looking at the lyrics, I understand why he didn’t use it and went with the cool tune instead. It’s a bittersweet song and about missing because the couple grew apart. WYB still wants to match the missing theme but probably scrapped it cause GG’s is more on the cute type of missing someone. 🙃

6. Going back to the Japan Trip, their posts seem to echo that time. 11/19/2018.

From WYB’s use of his phone and the shot. To XZ’s most obvious posting on the same day and SAME TIME 🤯🤯🤯

THIS IS WHY JAPAN CPN WILL FOREVER BE RELEVANT!!!!!! Happy 5th anniversary i guess! 💟 Dude I can’t fuckin believe Xiao Zhan did this the fuck he is insane for this.

7. In usual turtle clowning fashion, some of em commented xz or wyb’s photo on their douyin. These might be buried now cause solos are doing the most to make sure the top posts are theirs.

-END.

Disclaimer: this is all CPN. meaning, it is interpretation/speculation from a cpf’s perspective and uses lots of symbolism and past events that are known and understood by cpn-inclined turtles. this is not the place to wash things cause again, it’s all cpn anyway. I don’t make these posts to be picked apart, it is for fun and to enjoy. Okay? Okay. If you wanna complain, do it on your own blog.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #feels so good to go back to fandom #i have been so busy the past days and tired lol #THIS BECAME LONGER THAN EXPECTED CAUSE I CANT KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT LOL #Youtube

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actualbird · 4 months

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ZAK THE TOT CALL FUNCTION IS HERE

THE TOT CALL FUNCTION IS HERE AND I SPENT ON IT AS A CHRISTMAS GIFT TO MYSELF AND HERE ARE MY ADVENTURES (THUS FAR) WITH IT

so i got the permanent call pack schedule for luke and used the temporary call pack for marius and god okay first off, luke's workday schedule

my boy.....my busy bee boy....

he wakes up at 5:30 for his morning jog but sleeps at 11pm??? THATS ONLY 6 HRS OF SLEEP, GO TO SLEEP MORE, YOUNG MAN!!!

is the antique shop only open (with him in it) from 12:30pm til 2pm on weekdays?? because he does his detective agency work after (my man working 3 jobs, antique shop, detective agency, nsb agent, gAH REST MORE) omg. world's tightest opening time HVKSJHFKSD

he writes in his diary for over an hour, hes so precious i Cannot do this

now, the calls: i couldnt even screencap or record anything from luke's cuz i called him THREE TIMES IN A ROW last night and he picked up Every Time and he was sO CUTE IN ALL OF THEM.

im not gonna rush through luke's calls cuz i wanna savor this schedule call pack with him but i Am excited to discover them all. a friend told me that theres around 13-18 different calls and/or voice messages and THATS A BUNCH so im taking my time with luke

marius, on the other hand, im gonna be SPEEDRUNNING TODAY because the temporary call function only lasts thiRTEEN HOURS and i was a DUMMY who activated it at 9pm when i was about to SLEEP so if luke picked up first thing every time i called him Thrice yesterday, when i first rushed to call marius i---

he diDNT PICK UP. AND I GENUINELY FEEL SO BAD FOR CALLING HIM WHILE HE WAS BUSY LIKE BBY IM SO SORRY FOR BOTHERING U DURING WORK AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH

he left a really sweet voice message a few minutes after tho which helped me not panic as much but my god, im gonna be reading the schedules more clearly because i felt like Scum i felt like The Worst Person On The Planet for disturbing marius jhvsdfKLJBLKKFDSF

verdict: this is so far very worth my money, im enjoying harassing luke and am so so sorry for bothering marius

#im not sure if i'll shell out funds for the bonus topic yet but i just got my 13th month pay yesterday so...mayhaps? HAHAHAHA #kirameki-kumo #asks #tears of themis

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thelightsandtheroses · 9 months

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Secret Smile: A Tale of Two Reunions (Chapter Seven)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 5.9 k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, mentions of alcohol, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors are used, depression, past sexual harassment and sexism, past toxic workplace with pretty terrible HR management, un beta’d. Author's Notes: Thanks, as always, for all your lovely comments and reblogs to this fic so far. It means the world to me. I've been very nervous about this chapter but I hope it works?

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Javi’s never spent much time in Florida before. Besides growing up in Texas, most of his working career has been spent in Colombia, or briefly Mexico at the start. He’s had a couple of meetings in DC, most notably the time he thought he would be fired and instead was offered this promotion.

Perks of the job, he supposes. Join the DEA and you’ll get to explore new places while stopping the bad guys; that was how it had been sold to him back in the day.

It’s draining though. Today he’s been in three different countries, taken two flights, plus he chased Jurado across a town like he still thought he was in his twenties. At least there’s only an hour time difference here. At least they get tonight to reset. You and Javi can’t fly back to Colombia until the morning so Javi and you have been booked into a nearby hotel.

You’re still with the lawyers from Justice. In fact, you were the one who had suggested he go back to the hotel, that why didn’t he check in with Steve while he was here, make the most of the unexpected delay? There isn’t anything else he can do right now.

So now he’s at the hotel bar, having just finished a decidedly average burger and fries that was the only meal that met the new expenses policy limits, making sure to pocket his receipt while he remembers, and you’re probably still working.

Since he came back to Colombia, since you came back into his life, he’s only really seen you working in the embassy. He’s watched you make calls, plans, smooth paths and write paperwork. He’s never seen you like he has today though; in full lawyer mode.

You’re impressive.

There were other lawyers there and waiting but it was you Javi was watching, you who took control of the situation and pushed for solutions. You who spoke to them to prepare the testimony from Jurado, who had written the deal out already.

Then when Javi walked back in the room some time later and saw Jurado’s lawyer, he knew. He saw your face, the frustration clear, but you still tried.

He watched you dodge and weave through Starkman’s arguments, to try and make the deal still happen. You were calm, methodical, collected. Every now and then you’d meet Javi’s gaze, looking desperately like you wanted to roll your eyes at him over some unwelcome road bump and then turning your attention back to the moment as thought you had never looked at him.

You’ve both changed so much since Laredo; he remembers you there as shy, nervous, passionate about the things you loved, yes, but never like this.

It’s not enough though.

All that effort, running around Curacao in the sweltering heat and damn near falling of a roof like an idiot, all of it is for nothing. Javi has a feeling it doesn’t matter how skilled you are as a lawyer; it’s all going nowhere without Christina. Jurado won’t talk until she’s safe. Javi doesn’t even blame him.

Javi wonders what that’s like, loving someone that much. Though he wonders how much love there is to expose your wife to that situation, to use her passport to further your work. She was clearly unhappy when Javi spoke to her, he could see the loneliness in her eyes. The Jurados are truly in a sorry mess now.

Javi’s time in Colombia is one step forward and five steps back. Franklin’s wife still hasn’t arrived at the embassy. Javi swears Christina was on board, she was ready when he spoke to her on the runway - she was meant to be on her way so he can’t see her going to Jurado’s employers instead. No, there’s a rising sense of dread and worry coating his skin like sweat. Things are only going to get worse. Stoddard and the team are trying to find where she might be in the city, to see if they can get her and bring her to the US.

There’s nothing he can do from here right now though. He’s a passenger right now, until tomorrow, until they land back in Bogotá. He’s powerless and he hates it.

He notices Steve instantly as he walks over to Javi’s table in the smoking section. Javi moves his empty plate to one side before standing up to greet his old partner.

Steve looks well - being away from Colombia suits him. The last time they’d spoken, Steve had said that things were a lot better with him and Connie, that Olivia was in preschool and happy, that being home was working for him. He’s a DEA consultant now; he trains new agents, provides case studies or advice on how to approach a case.

He’s not in the field though.

Steve fought his battle. He was there when they took down Escobar.

They order drinks and make the initial small talk before Steve proudly shows Javi the latest photo of Olivia in his wallet. If anything is a stark reminder of the years that have passed, the sizeable amount of Javi’s life dedicated to this war, it’s seeing that Olivia isn’t a baby anymore. She’s a child with her hair in bunches and a wide toothy grin on her face. Javi wonders if she even remembers Colombia now, if she would remember him or any of her time there.

A few minutes later, Steve takes a gulp from his beer and looks at Javi carefully. His expression is one Javi recognises; this is the moment when Steve is getting to the crux of whatever he wanted to raise.

“I can’t believe they wanted you back,” he says lightly.

“Me either. Thought I was being fired when I went to DC after it all went down.”

“You’re a good agent, Javier. You know we couldn’t have - we couldn’t have done what we did without you. I just still can’t get over that you actually went back there,” Steve continues and Javi gets the sense that Steve means a lot more than just that the DEA had invited him back. “That you’ve spent months back there again and what - you’re in for a few more, another year of this?”

He’s not sure how to respond that, what he’s supposed to say about the albatross of obligation and redemption that’s bound so tightly around his neck that it’s become a noose.

“Job wasn’t done, Steve. The Cali godfathers, all of that - I want to get it right. Besides, I’m not sure now I’m back that they actually did want me back.”

“What do you mean?”

Javi stubs out his cigarette. “They wanted a poster boy.”

Steve laughs at that, shakes his head. “And they thought of you?”

“Hey, of the two of us, I am obviously the better looking one.”

“In my first week in Bogotá, you asked me to sneak papers down my trousers out of a secure lock up.”

“And I stand by that, Steve.”

“How the fuck would they ever have thought you’d just sit there and take that?”

Javi lights a cigarette and shrugs, offering the packet to Steve who shakes his head.

“I quit.”

“I did try the gum,” Javi admits before taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“That seems to be working out well for you,” Steve says dryly.

“Fucking brilliantly,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“So, they wanted a figurehead, not - not you. How’s that going? You didn’t answer me. I know you, Javi, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“They have tried to make it harder - fucking Stechner’s been - himself. Um, there’s a lawyer who works in tandem with Justice and the Ambassador and is my - unofficial liaison? I don’t know. Unofficially, they wanted her to keep an eye on me.” It feels like a terrible way to describe Blue, to introduce who she is to Steve.

Steve puts his glass down and meets Javi’s gaze straight on.

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah. It’s fine though. It turns out I knew her so -”

“Oh god, Javi. She’s not someone you slept with before, is she?”

“Wow, do you really think so little of me?”

Steve raises his eyebrows at Javi and yeah, maybe he knows where Steve is coming from. The thing is, despite his reputation, he doesn’t feel like he was as much as a rogue as people wanted to paint him.

“No, she’s from Laredo,” he says. “Actually, I was good friends with her brother growing up so I’ve known her a long time. Still am friends with her brother. She’s a good person, Steve. She wants the same thing as me. Blue wants us to get the godfathers, shut it down. We need to get real justice for the people, so that’s what we’re going for.”

“Blue?”

“Oh, fuck, it’s just her nickname from when we were kids.”

“So, you’re just working with her, Javi? This woman from your hometown, you’ve known for years you’re telling me? Who you call by her childhood nickname? Who is your friend’s sister? And you’re just … working together on this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You forget I know you Javi and I’m hearing how you’re talking about her.”

“Fuck off.”

“Too close to home? Tread carefully, Javi, please.”

He doesn’t know the half of it, Javi thinks, immediately thinking of the moment he almost kissed you. He takes a deep drag of his cigarette and doesn’t answer letting silence be his answer.

“How’s it down there now anyway?“ Steve asks after a moment. His voice manages to convey both a desire to be distanced from Bogotá and a sense of wistfulness at once. Javi gets it.

“It’s the same but different, Steve. The godfathers aren’t like Escobar. It’s a whole different type of battle down there right now.” Javi can’t tell Steve about the surrender deal he’s blown up, about the way everything is working out, or rather how it isn’t, about how fragile and terrifying the odds feel right now.

“So, what are you going to do when it’s done?”

“No fucking idea. You’re the one who said I was a lifer.”

Steve pauses and takes a sip of his own drink. “Yeah, I did say that didn’t I?”

Javi shrugs, raises his beer to his friend in a mock salute.

He’s not sure how to truly answer Steve. He’s not sure what’s next for him; he can’t see himself in Laredo but the job is weighing on him, the job is changing. In all honesty, he has no clue what will come next. Home? His dad’s ranch? The life he originally wanted to escape? It’d be kind of poetic, he supposes. He’s not sure what else there is for him except DEA station after station for the rest of his life, watching his agents take part in missions while he sits in a suit and argues with other people about it.

“Anyway, tell me what’s new with you,” Javi asks instead.

The paperwork and handoff with your Justice colleagues takes hours. A part of you almost enjoyed the discussions with Starkman, the back and forth and chess moves to try and get what you needed.

You’re still not there though and that’s frustrating, draining even. You’re used to getting through a problem, but this one worries you.

Still, Jurado is in custody, the team have a solid case against him and that prosecution will proceed. Javi just needs him to talk and maybe he can get Christina back at the table too.

You’ve done as much as possible right now.

All you can think about right now is how desperately you’re looking forward to getting to your hotel room and changing out of these sticky, creased clothes, having a shower and then sleeping until you need to get up for Tomorrow’s flight to Bogotá. You’re past the point of wanting food, of wanting anything other than this day to be over and for you to crawl into bed.

You’re finally on your way out of the building when you bump into him.

He looks just like he did all those months ago, back when you were last in DC. An expensive suit, intricately coiffured honeyed hair, wafting overpriced cologne that follows him with every step.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, a mix of surprise and horror in your voice when you watch his eyes take you in. Your palms are becoming sweaty already and you’re desperate to get out of this building, to get as far away from here as quickly as possible.

This can’t be happening. He can’t be here.

“Oh, just a Justice case I’ve been working on. I can’t really -“ he says after a pause.

“Right, of course.” You’re wondering if you can get away with stamping your heel through his overpriced Italian shoes before you run out of the building.

“Why are you here? The last I heard you were working in Mexico?”

You feel a pang of annoyance; frustration that he knows enough about you to know you were working abroad, that he assumed it would be in Mexico. You’re outraged that his tone is as relaxed as it is, almost lazy. How dare he? How fucking dare he?

“Colombia,” you correct. “That’s why I’m here - it’s for the case we’re working on.”

“Damn, that’s intense.”

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice unfamiliar and sharp. It’s the same tone you used to employ in the courtroom against particularly difficult attorneys. It’s your ice queen voice, the one that other lawyers used to dread, that earned you your steely reputation for excellence.

The memories flood you; good, bad, somewhere in between. It’s like an avalanche, as though everything you’ve been avoiding has just hit you all at once and your chest is tight and you’re not entirely sure if you’re even breathing correctly right now.

You left DC to avoid having to go through this. You fucking moved country to avoid this.

How can he be here? What forces have you upset to bring such an awful, obscure coincidence into your day? And if he’s here, what if …

Their names freeze on your tongue. You swallow, even though your mouth feels bone dry. You can do this, you think. You can.

“You took the job I was going for, after everything,” you say, folding your arms around yourself. The hate, rage, and devastation tastes sour like bile in your mouth. “Even after what happened?”

You remember everything.

“It was a promotion. Did you honestly expect me to say no? You wanted that job too, remember? You can’t honestly tell me you have said no if our positions were reversed.”

“Of course I would have.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re kidding yourself if you think that. I know you; I remember what you were like in court. You’re ambitious.”

It’s not a point worth arguing. You know the truth and you know you’ll never know what could have been. You’re sure you wouldn’t have though, you’re sure your moral code would have prevailed.

In another world though, maybe the positions are reversed and you’re standing in Simon’s shoes. If that had happened then you’d never have bumped into Javi again, you’d be in DC going about your old life with your old friends. It’s unimaginable.

You feel like that version of yourself is dead.

“So, what? Now you work with them?” you probe, because now the wound is open you can’t stop the outpouring, “What, do you all sit in the office together? Have a good laugh and joke about it - about me? Do you join in?”

He whispers your name, gaze fixated on the floor. All you can think is that this man used to be your friend and now he can hardly meet your eyes. You can barely even think of him without your blood pressure rising.

“Nothing actually happened,” Simon says after a moment, “he didn’t actually do anything to you, didn’t even touch you. That’s what you said to me, remember? Look, everything got out of hand, it didn’t need to go down like that.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you take in his admonishment. It’s on you then, you’re the one who rocked the boat, who blew the whistle. No, that’s not right.

“Fuck you. I never want to speak to you again, Simon.”

You spin on your heels, eager to get away, get out of here. Your heart is racing, your body feels numb and the voices of the ghosts that haunt you whisper in your ear the whole way to the hotel.

“Hey Shelley, it’s Jamie …I don’t think she’s doing so well. I think you should try and get a flight out … I know … I know … Shelley? I don’t know if she’s coming back from this. I think we’re losing her.”

You sink your head deeper into the bath water as though the water has the answers. Maybe Jamie’s right.

You’re not sure who you are anymore, who you can trust.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s all you. Maybe you’ve misinterpreted and twisted it all. You’ve been through it a thousand times and each time the details get hazier, less clear. You doubt yourself more by the day. Some days you’re not even sure what’s real anymore.

You have so much more empathy for any witness you’ve ever put on the stand now.

Maybe Jamie’s right too. You’re not sure how you come back from this? How do you ever go back to the office and just pretend it hasn’t happened?

You’ve prided yourself on being a strong lawyer, on being one of the best in your office. You never give up. Not usually.

This is different though.

You’re so tired. So drained. You feel like there’s nothing inside you anymore, like the process of the last few months has shucked the life out of you leaving only a shell behind.

Your promotion is over. You’ll have to continue to sit opposite them day in and day out and just - pretend? Every day, hour after hour, you’ll just sit there and know they’ll be talking about you the second you leave the room. You’ll be given all of the lousy cases, never progress further. You’ll be the cautionary tale to any other woman in the office who would dare speak up. You’ll be judged, you’re already being judged.

It’s only been two weeks and you can’t do it a day longer.

You’re done.

Your ex-boyfriend is sleeping on your sofa because he’s the only person you have left in this city. Because every other friend you have in this city you have either just realised is not your friend, or you have quietly just shut out until they stopped calling.

Except for Jamie, and that’s only because of Shelley and Carlos. Only because they called him out of worry, out of fear. Only because Shelley wouldn’t let you cut her off and leave you to your loneliness.

In her last call, she had gently suggested changing jobs, seeking a change of scenery - was that how she phrased it? It wasn’t running away, she said, it would be prioritising yourself. She mentioned that Laredo needed a new ADA. It felt too close though. You can’t go home broken like this, you’re not ready.

You heard from an old law school friend there was good legal work available in some of the embassies a while ago, that he’d got to travel to amazing countries for his job before he’d settled down in California last summer. Maybe something like that would be far enough away. He’d offered to recommend you for a post if you were looking for something new. You were going for the promotion then though so you put him off. But now?

You rise up from the bathtub, rest your arms either side of the bath and think for a moment.

Maybe Shelley’s right. It’s time for a change.

He sees you in the lobby just as he’s leaving the bar with Steve. Javi feels a little lighter; catching up with Steve has helped. For an hour or so, he’s been able to forget about Christina, to forget about Jurado, to remember when the job was more active, when he had a partner with him on this and he didn’t have to wear a suit and sit in stressful meetings.

Before Steve turned up in Colombia, Javi had felt like he was treading through molasses, every step infinitely harder than it should be. No one cared enough, he was fighting and it felt futile.

Javi scoffs at the memory. Yeah, why is that familiar again?

He waves you over with a casual smile as your paths are about to cross.

“Hey, Blue, this is -” Javi begins.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you say, brushing past him.

Javi looks at your retreating form in surprise. “That was weird.” He’d thought you want to meet Steve, after all you’d encouraged him to meet Steve in the first place.

“She’s upset,” Steve says quietly.

“What? No, she isn’t, Steve.” You’re clearly not upset; Javi knows you, knows how tough you are. No, Steve has to be wrong.

“Well, she looked upset,” Steve persists.

“How do you - you don’t even know her, Steve.”

“I have a wife, Javi, and she looks like Connie when she’s upset. ”

He thinks back to your face as you walked back - everything in your body seemed tightly coiled like a spring and were those tears in your eyes? Your voice was so distant too. Maybe things had been more stressful with the Justice guys than he thought.

He’s not sure where you are in the hotel though; whether he should even try and talk to you right now.

Steve’s right though, something’s wrong and Javi needs to know why.

You make your way to the plane quietly, noticing Javi standing by the gangway, coffees balanced precariously in your hands. He’s wearing his DEA jacket and yellow aviators that he’s clearly had for a while.

He nods in acknowledgement when he sees you.

You wordlessly hand him a coffee before you both walk onto the plane.

The coffee served at breakfast was terrible; maybe the worst hotel coffee you’ve ever had. You’d taken full advantage of a five-minute window to get coffee at the airport; it was a need not a want. You’d bought one for Javi without a thought.

He smiles when he takes the coffee and your fingers brush very slightly in the handover.

“You saw the breakfast coffee then?” He asks lightly, giving you the out. In this moment you think he might be the best person you know.

“That wasn’t coffee. No idea what it was, but it wasn’t coffee.”

The two of you sit opposite each other, your coffees on the table in front of you.

“How was Steve?” you ask politely as the plane begins to move down the runway, “I’m sorry I had to uh, go straight to the room. Think I ate something off.” You hate that such an embarrassing lie is your excuse, that you prefer the idea of Javi thinking that than knowing you were upset, than running the risk of him asking why.

“Are you okay now?” Javi asks before sitting opposite you on the plane.

“I’m fine.”

“Steve thought - I thought … ”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

No, you think, no I have hardly slept and I feel ridiculous that last night took me back like it did.

“I’m fine,” you repeat.

Javi nods at you but his furrowed brow tells you that he doesn’t believe you.

“Still no word from Christina?” you ask, automatically squeezing your knee as you feel the plane ascend higher in the air.

“No,” Javi says, pinching his brow. “Are we fucked without her?”

“We need to find her to secure Jurado’s testimony, yes. But if you have something else, another angle for this case then … maybe we’ll be okay.”

“What is really going on with you?”

Perhaps it’s because he’s persistent, perhaps it’s because he is meticulously trained in extracting truths from people, or perhaps it’s because he’s from home and he feels safe right now. You feel the words rise up though.

“I saw someone I used to work with.”

“And that upset you?”

“Yes.”

“Did they say something to you? Was that why were you upset?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“So did the bastard break your heart back in DC or something?” Javi jokes and then pauses when he sees your face.

You could let him have this misunderstanding. Pin it all on his assumption. You can see the cogs turning, the maths in his head, your near kiss makes sense to him now and your subsequent rejection.

You should let him believe this.

“Javi,” you say softly, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So tell me,” he says bluntly, looking at you with plaintive eyes. “Help me understand.”

“He was a friend and now he’s not. It’s simple. No big drama,” you say, looking out of the window at the cerulean sky all around you.

“Well, something clearly happened.” Javi shifts forward towards you, his elbows on the plastic table between you, hands closer to yours. “Blue, did something happen yesterday? Do we need to -” You can hear a hint of alarm in his voice and quickly realise what he’s assuming.

“No, no. He didn’t - please, it’s nothing. It’s honestly not - I’m just - it’s nothing, Javi.”

“It’s nothing? Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, we’ve got time.” He shifts, moves his hands across the desk that divides you; the distance between your bodies feeling more like a chasm with each breath.

“It’s stupid, don’t worry about it, Javi. Nothing happened,” you say, aware you’re just repeating Simon’s own words and excuses to you.

“Blue?”

There are wars in your head. Arguments screaming and competing to be the loudest. You want to tell him. You can’t tell him.

You have this overwhelming desire to bare your soul right now though, you would like him to know and to understand.

It’s pathetic though, you think, so trifling to someone like him. He’s worked for the DEA for around a decade; Javi’s heard and probably seen far, far worse things happen to people. Simon’s words repeat over and over in your mind.

“Nothing actually happened … he didn’t do anything to you.”

If nothing happened though, why did it affect you so much? You’ve prosecuted far more evil men in your career: murderers, rapists. You know how the world works. That office, those men, even without touching you they broke you down. Sometimes you hate yourself for that, that you let that happen.

“It’s okay,” Javi says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry I asked. You don’t have to -”

“I was applying for a promotion, for the same job Simon has now. I would have been running the department I worked for and I was ready for it. I was so ready for it, Javi. I - there were always comments and I’m used to that. I’ve been the only woman in my office many times before. I know what to expect, how to ignore it and block it out. I know people say about me behind my back.”

“Blue -”

“There was this guy though, not the guy from yesterday, not Simon. It was someone else.”

You pause, unwilling to say his name and wring your hands. Just thinking about taking about this has made your throat feel dry, your palms sweaty and there’s a slow building sense of dread.

You steal a look at Javi who’s calm and solid and you realise that right now you do want to explain it to him. You do want to tell him.

You’d like him to understand.

It’s just finding the right words. The ones that don’t make it sound worse than it was, because you always worry that if you do that somehow you’re taking something away from the people who’ve really been through it. But it’s about finding the words that don’t lessen it either. You’re balancing on a tightrope of trying to convey the right tone, the right intent. You want to be dispassionate when you tell him about something you can never be dispassionate about.

“He made me feel uncomfortable,” you say after a moment.

Javi furrows his brow at this. You notice the way he fidgets with his hand on the table; a tic you’ve noticed throughout the past few months. He flutters his fingers before clenching them together, it’s a telling physical manifestation of his nerves you’ve picked up over the months.

“Don’t look like that, Javi, he didn’t do anything, not really.”

“So he did do something?” Javi asks, his eyes have become so intensely dark they’re almost obsidian and his gaze is completely focused on you. You notice how he scans you over, almost checking as though there’s some type of physical mark or scar he can find and appoint to this story.

“Hey, who’s the lawyer here?” you ask, desperate to break the moment, shaking your head. Javi raises his hands in mock defeat and you take a deep breath.

“He made comments, a lot of them and they were - nothing unusual at first, but then maybe they felt almost a little sinister and I - I started to feel really vulnerable in the office. I had to work with him on this important case, we were alone and - and I know it was only words but still. Anyway, I made a complaint.” You regard the dark varnish on your nails, notice the chip on your left index finger before you look at the floor. “That was a mistake. Big mistake.”

“Blue,” Javi says sadly.

“I know, it doesn’t sound all that relevant yet. It will. Anyway, it didn’t go well. They just - closed ranks. My promotion was cancelled. I uh - everyone in the department talked about what had happened openly in the office. Everything I’d spent years working towards for slipped away from me in a second.”

“And what happened to the guy?”

”He didn’t face any consequences and uh, that’s where Simon comes in, I guess. He got my promotion. And uh, to do that, he sided with the guy when he spoke to my old boss. They all did. Only Simon told me beforehand that he believed me. Didn’t stop him from going after a promotion though.”

“Fucking asshole.”

“That was the worst part of it all - Simon was my friend, Javi. I thought he was my friend.”

Even now you can hear the heavy pain in your voice when you say that, the way his betrayal had just been too much and had cut you open deeper than any knife could have.

“Oh, Blue. It’s okay, you don’t have to -”

“So obviously, I couldn’t stay there after that. When this opportunity came up, I figured I should just do it. Seize the day, right?”

“Seize the day,” Javi repeats flatly.

“And I ended up here.”

You don’t feel relief at your confession; you feel embarrassed. Javi’s DEA - he’s probably heard of far, far worse things happening to other women. Here you are, a mess over seeing someone who let you down once. Here you are, the woman who clearly just couldn’t take a joke.

“Stop that,” he says gently, reaching for your hand and gently squeezing it.

“Stop what?”

“I can see those thoughts going through your head. Don’t.”

“I just -”

“What a fucking shitbag,” he mumbles, “I’m sorry that happened.”

“Wasn’t you,” you say quietly. “It was a while ago, I’m over it. It just bought some stuff up.”

“If you’d told me last night -”

“What, you would have found out where he was and confronted him?”

“Maybe,” he says with a crooked smile and shrug.

“Javi.”

“Blue,” he says, teasingly matching your tone.

“How was Steve?” you ask, desperate to divert attention from yourself. Javi looks at you for a long moment and then nods.

“He was okay,” he says, “It was good to catch up. Hadn’t seen him since I was last in Colombia.”

“Well, I’m glad you got to see him.”

A comfortable silence falls that is only broken when the pilot announces you’ll be landing shortly.

You strain to look out of the window, at the lush greenery and dramatic topography of Colombia.

“It’s a nicer plane than when I first came here.”

“Yeah?”

“I was stuck next to this guy who took up far more room than he should have, so I had to virtually hang over the aisle and then he had the audacity to spend the flight loudly snoring. He also had gas.”

Javi scowls in sympathy. ”Jeez.”

“I know.”

The plane lands smoothly and before you know it, you’re both standing up, ready to get back to the embassy and world.

This flight, this whole trip, has felt like a strange interlude from reality. One filled with ghosts and memories; welcome ones for Javi and unpleasant ones for you.

You’re ready to get back into that open plan office, to hearing meaningless gossip from Linda.

Javi takes your bag from the locker without a word, balancing it precariously with his own suitcase.

“Hey, Javi?” you ask as he hands your handbag when you finally descend the gangway.

“Yeah, Blue?”

“None of my family knows. I told my parents, told Rafa, it was a change I’d been planning for some time.”

“Understood. Thanks for - thanks for sharing that with me, cariño.” Javi nods at you, an unspoken message passing between you.

You’re nervous when you head into the office next day. While you spent most of your working day with Javi yesterday and nothing else was said about what you discussed on the plane, it’s plagued you.

What if he is different with you? What if this is another mistake and he judges you - or worse, what if he pities you? You don’t think you could stand to stay in this job if he looks at you with pity.

He’s standing in his office when you arrive. Arms folded onto his hips, staring at a pile of papers on his desk.

“Hey Javi.”

“Hi.” He looks at up and smiles. It’s a rare sight and you’re glad you’re a professional because his smile could floor you. You have a feeling Javi’s not really struggled for company over the years; that between his puppy eyes and soft smile, the low dulcet tones of his voice, he knows exactly what he is doing.

“So uh, what’s the plan?” you ask, taking a long sip from the mug of coffee you dutifully took from your office kitchen to Javi’s. You’re very glad the embassy safety representative didn’t see you, no doubt they’d tell you off for wandering around with open topped hot beverages.

You needed the coffee though, needed the defensive barriers you knew it would provide.

You didn’t really sleep much last night.

Jurado is a mess, the deal’s off and no matter how hard you tried, he just won’t talk without his wife.

“We’re going after Miguel Rodríguez,” he says after a pause. “That’s the next step.”

“Have we got a plan?”

“Yeah, we do. Feistl’s got an informant, we can get him, Blue. It’s not over yet.”

“It’ll need some thought, Javi - you don’t want to tip him off. Right now, from what I hear from the local prosecutors, things are not looking great. Miguel’s a loose cannon. It’s a worry. ”

“So, let’s stop him,” Javi says simply. “We’re nearly there.”

“Okay,” you reply, “Okay, Javi. I’m with you.”

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talisidekick · 7 months

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u should post more about being trans

Sure. And I have a recent life story so here it goes:

If you've spent any amount of time scrolling down my blog, you know that from my 800+ posts I've dropped quite a bit about myself. Namely that my parents emotionally and physically abused me and manipulated me to act a very specific way to adhere to a "look" that agreed with my birth mothers families expectations. They wanted a daughter and got my sister first try, and only had me to teach her to share. Their treatment of me my entire life and how they admitted to it and talked about me let me know I was just a show-piece for their perfect cult christian/catholic/mormon nuclear family vibe.

As such, I can say that I have never once experienced what parental love actually feels like. What it's like to be loved unconditionally by a parent who cares. That wasn't my life.

At least ... that was true up until yesterday.

If you're unaware of what's been happening up in Canada in the last week (from 18th September 2023 to 22nd September 2023), the transphobes up here held a "1 Million March for Children" protest about public schools being gender inclusive, teaching topics on gender identity and gender expression, and allowing kids to give preferred names and pronouns that teachers abide by without parental involvement. If you're unfamiliar with Canada's laws, Canada has ratified the "rights of the child" set forth by the United Nations and children under the age of 18 up here have civil rights including the right to privacy and safety. These protests attempt to say a parent has the right to know everything going on with their kid, and there is some degree of agreement on that, but a child also has the right to privacy and safety. This group is pushing for policy changes in public schools that would require the schools take actions that can be argued would infringe on the rights of the 2SLGBTQIA+ children regarding their privacy and safety. As such, this transphobic group met opposition that vastly outnumbered their protest numbers in the form of counter protests involving students, teachers, parents, allies, and 2SLGBTQIA+ adults who passed through a less-than-accepting school system in their time.

I unfortunately missed the organized protest in my city yesterday. I was entirely unaware myself that any of this was happening. I'm now working on being more active and informed in my community because now that this bullshit is firmly on my doorstep, I'm not about to let it gain another inch by being oblivious.

When I came out, I was 27. I waited until I was on hormones just because I needed to be 1000% certain I was finally doing this before letting anyone in my workspace know. I was met immediately with transphobia from my team lead/manager. I was honestly stuck with what to do because it wasn't like she (my manager) was being overtly terrible, it was just a bunch of small things that were actively impeding my ability to do my job, and even move departments. It became more apparent as time went on that she was actively preventing me from reaching my normal level of production by throwing harder and harder work my way with much higher expectations than ever before. I reached out to another co-worker who was in a higher position than I at the time and she went to bat for me. She caught a lot of it first hand, agreed I was being treated unfairly, and got me in contact with HR. With her help, I was able to move to the IT department and begin using my software and computer architecture degree for something. She remarked that my parents must be proud I was finally in my chosen field of study and ... I had to let her know that my parents weren't in my life, and that they treated me terribly, and don't approve of me. She took that statement and without missing a beat she said: "well, guess that makes me your mom now", which I just took as a "if they won't love you for who you are and what you achieve, I will" symbolic gesture. She's called me her kid in casual conversation, and I have called her mom, but she has biological children around my age so it felt symbolic. I'm a 29 year old adult now, I was 27 at the time this started and I didn't think much of it because I kind of just accepted I was a person who'll never have parents who care. Like, I'm not a kid anymore, what's the point of having parents? That was my mentality.

Until yesterday. The day of the counter protest I didn't know was happening. My adopted mom showed up in force. Why? Take a look:

Some context for the following messages: when an iPhone user hearts a message, and android receiver gets the "Loved "<First 50 characters of the message reacted to> ..." message.

[Start ID: Screenshots of a text message conversation between @talisidekick and her mother who adopted her at 27. Conversation spans over Sunday and Monday. First photo reads: (8:12 PM Sunday) Mom: ... me about it. It was due to something that happened Wednesday. This was all put together in a matter of days. I have a trans child so I wanted to be there (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: Just confirming, is the "trans child" me or is one of your other kids trans? (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: 'Cause I still call you mom. (7:18 AM Monday) Mom: No it's you (8:10 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for me made me smile so wide... (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for..." (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Because you know I've got your back my luv

Second photo reads:

(8:11 AM Monday) Talisidekick: ... I really wish you were my mom when I was growing up. You're honestly the best. (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "... I really wish you were my mom when I was growi..." (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: I wish I was too! You would have been accepted for who you are the entire time (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: But you got me now! (8:13 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I do, and that matters loads. (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I do, and that matters loads."

/end ID]

I'm in tears because she wasn't being symbolic. She sees me as her kid. She saw a problem, recognized that I'd lived through worse because we've talked how many times I was almost killed by my peers at school or left to die by teacher staff because where I grew up was conservative and we didn't have anything in the books supporting queer children in schools, and showed up to be part of the solution.

For reference from those who don't know: someone made a cruel remark that I was gay via a slur when I was in grade 3 and that was enough to mark me for abuse, and almost kill me for the entirety of grade school. There was more than one active attempt by members of the student body to kill me, at least one in front of a teacher who did nothing because of that damn rumour. And trying to kill me wasn't the worst thing they did. They didn't care I was actually transgender, in fact, them not knowing that probably saved me from them trying harder. I couldn't bring any of this to my parents because they were worse.

No child deserves to live any fraction of what I went through. It was horrible, and these assholes want to force kids to feel just as isolated as I did growing up. I barely survived and almost took my own life several times because of all this.

Mom, if you happen to read this, thank you for showing me I matter. I wish I'd met you sooner.

Trans rights are human rights. Transgender kids deserve safety too because every damn child matters.

#2slgbtqia+#lgbtqia+#lgbtq+#lgbt+#trans #transgender #queer #mtf #talisidekick #talisidekicks asks

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sowoozoo-7 · 1 year

Text

Love, Lust & Litigation | Ch 3 (JJK, KNJ)

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader x Namjoon

Genre: lawyer!AU, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Unfortunately, you have developed a massive crush on your new boss. Even more unfortunately, your equally attractive coworker is also harboring massive crush on your boss. AKA Jungkook and reader both pine for big, sexy brain Namjoon.

A/N: Ooh look at me, Chapter 3 right on time for y'all. This is my first ever smut and tbh it's taken a lot for my repressed former catholic brain to actually type it out 🙈 Hope you enjoy!

I’d love feedback if you have any!

mlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | interlude | ch 6

Winter arrives with a flurry of snow and early sunsets, and with the change in season comes a crushing wave of loneliness. Maybe it’s the lack of sunshine making you sad and mopey, maybe it’s the endless couples holding hands everywhere you turn, cozying up under the mistletoe.

Whatever it is, now that you’ve been at Bang & Associates for a few months, the shiny newness of the job has worn off. All you’re left with is a dark, empty apartment waiting for you at the end of a long day. You’ve worked hard to make your apartment feel like a home, but no amount of cozy comfort can negate the emptiness. It used to be better, when your ex was around, but that relationship fizzled out about six months after moving in together, both of you too busy to make time for the other person, and not enough in love to want to make it work through seventy-hour work weeks.

It doesn’t help that your crush on Namjoon is only getting worse with every passing day. You keep it together during meetings, but it seems like every free moment you have, you’re daydreaming about him. The way his voice dips low at the end of a long day, the way he smells, the way he twirls his pen when he’s concentrating on a document. You ignore the meaningful glances Yoongi sends your way at Cat’s Pajamas when the team gathers for lunch, but there’s nothing to stop Yoongi’s words haunting you when you’re trying to fall sleep.

The thing is, no matter how many nights you spend with your vibrator, fantasizing about Namjoon pushing you up against your office door, you know you’ll never approach him first. HR is clear about relationships with subordinates and Namjoon is a stickler for the rules. And if he did somehow have a complete personality transplant, you’ve known one too many women whose careers get ruined by the rumor mill after they sleep with their boss.

Still, Yoongi’s words make you think of all the potential, all the possibility between you two. It’s torture.

Jungkook isn’t doing any better.

More often than not, you catch him glancing at Namjoon during after-work drinks with sad puppy eyes. Even if he leaves the bar with someone, the men he takes home resemble Namjoon, tall and well-built, and the women he leaves with have the same intellectual intensity Namjoon has.

“Poor kid,” says Jimin, every time.

You think you should try that too. After all, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?

But the long hours you’re racking up leave you too exhausted to even begin of thinking of pulling a one-night stand at happy hour, or of going out to a bar on a weekend and going home with a stranger. You used to do that with Nina, but ever since she’s been with her boyfriend, weekend nights out are few and far between. It’s not the same going on your own. It feels more desperate, somehow.

So it’s just you, in your empty apartment, with thoughts of Namjoon in your head, and cheesy holiday movies clogging streaming services home pages. You’ve spent more than one weekend in front of the TV with a bottle of wine, wallowing and crying that you’ll never find love.

At least the cold weather brings with it holiday decorations. It’s beautiful, the city in winter. Fairy lights drape over every surface, keeping the darkness at bay. Sure, it’s cold, the wind bites through your winter layers, and you’re the loneliest you’ve ever felt in your life, but the twinkling lights almost make up for it. Almost.

Before you know it, the holidays are only a couple weeks away. There’s a flurry of activity as the days get shorter and the nights get longer, and the firm tries to wrap up any last-minute deliverables before the holidays.

One miserable Thursday, when the sky can’t decide whether to rain or snow and instead settles into a miserable sleet, you misjudge the depth and consistency of a slush puddle on your way to work. Water rises up above your boot and floods your sock with filthy, freezing water. You squish with every other step.

“You look terrible,” chirps Jimin when you arrive at the office. “Ready for the holiday party tomorrow?”

“I’m not in the festive mood, not when I’m cold and wet and cranky.”

He follows you into your office as you pull out your emergency shoes. They don’t match the outfit you were so happy to put together that morning — cozy, yet professional — but they’ll have to do. You set your boots and socks next to the heater to dry out.

“Liven up, Grinch. It’ll be fun!”

“I’ll have more fun when I have a cup of coffee in my hand,” you mutter.

He links his arm around yours as you head to the in-house barista that the firm has set up in the cafeteria for the holidays. You order a disgustingly sweet latte that Jimin swears tastes like Christmas in a cup.

“I’m going to get a cavity,” you grumble, as you head back to your department. You refuse to tell Jimin that just with the first sip, you feel the warmth of Christmas Present flooding though your body.

“But it’s gonna be a Christmas cavity!” he says, sipping his own drink. “Anyway, everyone’s leaving early tomorrow for the party to get ready. We’re pulling out all the stops and you better dress up too. I expect Christmas cheer! And don’t forget your dancing shoes.” He executes a smooth spin before heading to his office, miraculously not spilling a drop of his drink.

The party isn’t a command performance, but it is the event of the season. At least in the law world. The firm rents out a ritzy five-star hotel downtown that caters to mega-rich people and celebrities. The firm reserved a room for every employee so no one has any excuse to drive home drunk. Even if the party’s a bust, at least you’ll enjoy a mini staycation. The hotel has a complimentary room service breakfast that looks indulgent and divine. You can't wait to sit in your room in a robe looking out at the city view with a cup of coffee in your hand.

Before you log in to your computer, you shoot Nina an SOS text. You planned to do your own hair and makeup for the party, but with the way you’ve been feeling lately, you need a little pick-me-up. Before lunch, Nina has worked her magic and set you up with a last-minute hair and makeup appointment, along with a spa mani-pedi.

You deserve it girl, have so much fun at the party! Send pics when you’re all dressed up 😘😘

It’s all your coworkers can talk about at lunch that day. Free dinner and an open bar? Everyone’s ready to let loose. You’re excited too, now that you have a pamper session to precede it.

The following day passes in a blur of emails and memos, and before you know it, Namjoon is ushering everyone out the door a couple hours early. “I’ll see all of you at the party tonight.”

You go straight to the salon after work. It’s nice to spend some time pampering yourself solo. Usually you’ll do these spa weekends with Nina, but it’s nice to have a moment of solo luxury after so many weeks of go-go-go at work.

You check into your hotel room to finish getting ready. The dress Nina put aside for you is even better than she promised. The velvet dress hugs all your curves just-so and the deep emerald color makes your skin glow.

Before you leave the room, you tidy up a bit. You feel a little silly, as you tug the bedspread into place and put your suitcase away in the closet, because the only person who will see your room at the end of the night is you. But you do it anyway, just in case.

You head out of your room with five minutes to spare, and you walk directly into a solid body. A set of hands comes to your shoulders to steady you as you stumble back, familiar tattoos decorating the back of one of them.

“You’re on this floor too?”

You look up to see Jungkook and words fail you.

He’s in black, head to toe, black suit, with a black shirt underneath, the first few buttons undone. His hair is wavy as usual, but it looks like he spent a little more time than usual getting it to fall just right across his forehead.

You clear your throat and step back. “Uhm, yeah. Clearly.”

It’s his turn to look you up and down. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Damn. You clean up nice.”

You roll your eyes and flip your hair over your shoulder as you strike a pose.

“Don’t I?”

Behind the confident façade, you feel a little trepidation. He’s right, you do look amazing, but you’re showing a lot more skin than you usually would around your coworkers, with its off the shoulder neckline and slightly shorter hemline.

He nudges your shoulder playfully. “Come on, we’ll miss the champagne toast.”

He offers you his arm and you take it. Then you remember.

“Hang on.” You fumble in your clutch for your phone. “I promised Nina a picture.”

“I’ll take it,” he says, holding out his hand for your phone.

You feel a little ridiculous, posing in the hotel hallway like a teenager about to go to her first prom. Jungkook, to his credit, doesn't tease and steps back and takes the photo from several different angles. Before he hands the phone back, he holds it out at arms length, front camera on.

“Selfie!”

The selfie is too cute not to send along with the first photo, both of you pouting and flashing V signs. You shoot a quick message to Nina before getting to the elevator bank.

You ride the elevator up to the penthouse ballroom together. It takes forever, because the elevator stops at almost every floor to pick up another one of your coworkers. Jimin was right, everyone does pull out all the stops. Even the ladies from tax law dress up more than usual.

A few floors from the top, your phone buzzes with Nina’s response.

damn girl!! You look 🔥🔥🔥 and e-boy looks 🤤🤤 have soooo much fun tonight 👀😘😘

The ballroom looks like a Christmas dream, with glowing golden decorations and highlights of red and green. Round tables fill the ballroom, spread out around a large dance floor. Outside, the city glitters in the cold winter night.

You pick up two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and offer one to Jungkook. You clink glasses and sip as you walk further into the room.

Jimin stands by a table at the edge of the dance floor along with the rest of the litigation team, and waves you over. He’s on theme, wearing a red and black plaid suit. His golden blonde hair looks like he’s already run his hands through it several times.

He lets out a low whistle when you arrive, and greets you with a kiss on your cheek.

“You look amazing in that dress. I almost thought you were going to show up in one of your regular suits with just a Santa hat on, after yesterday.”

He turns to Jungkook and shakes his hand. “And you! Didn’t I tell you to dress more festive? This does not scream Christmas.”

You laugh as Jimin cocks an eyebrow and looks Jungkook up and down.

You go around the table to say hi to the rest of the team. You also greet Hoseok with a kiss on the cheek, and he introduces you to Cee, his fiancée. She has a blunt bob and a sunshine smile to rival Hoseok’s. She pulls you into a hug when you’re introduced.

"Happy holidays! So great to meet you! I've heard so many good things."

You decide you like her already.

You go to Namjoon last. He’s in one of his regular business suits, wearing the glasses he wears when his contacts have been bothering him, the wire-framed ones that make him look like a professor. His hair is styled back, with a couple of strands falling onto his forehead.

You lean in for a cheek kiss like you have with the rest of your colleagues, but he goes in for a handshake instead and you end up in an awkward hug, with your hand sandwiched between you. He pats your back hesitantly.

You pull away as quick as you can, offering a laugh at the awkwardness. Thankfully, he laughs too. You step back to the other end of the table, giving Jungkook the space to say hi too.

Jimin looks like he’s about to combust from trying not to laugh.

“Still not over your crush?” he asks under his breath.

“Shut up,” you mutter, face red as you down the rest of the champagne in your flute. He grips the back of his chair to keep from falling over as the giggles win.

Waiters go through the room, replenishing champagne flutes as the firm’s founder, Sihyuk Bang, steps onto the stage for a speech. He thanks everyone for a great year and wishes everyone a happy holiday season.

“To a great new year!”

The room raises their champagne flutes in a toast.

Soft jazzy Christmas standards play over the speakers as everyone sits and waiters swarm the ballroom with covered plates.

Namjoon clinks his knife against his champagne flute to get the table’s attention. Jimin and Hoseok reach out immediately to take the knife away and everyone at the table, including Namjoon, laughs. Everyone knows what a disaster putting fragile things in Namjoon’s hands can be.

“I wanted to thank every one of you for your hard work this year. The success of the team is really thanks to all of you.” He looks to you. You make eye contact over the flickering candle on the table, and your heart skips a beat. “I know you’ve only been with us for a few months, but I think I speak for everyone here when I say we’re all very happy to have you on board. Cheers, team.”

“Cheers,” everyone choruses.

You hide your flush behind your champagne flute. Jimin, sitting next to you, nudges your leg under the table. You swat him with your hand.

Dinner is delicious and a welcome distraction. It’s the typical holiday party fare, but presented with artful swoops of sauce. Unlike fancy restaurants though, the food is filling and hearty, likely on purpose to soak up all the booze you and your coworkers are going to consume during the party.

You stick to champagne, the fizzy drink giving you a pleasant buzz as the evening continues. You know yourself. If you switch to anything else now that you’ve started on champagne, you’ll puke. And you don’t want to get puke on this beautiful dress. Or puke in front of your coworkers. Or on one of your coworkers, god forbid.

A band sets up while dessert is served. You’re curious from the start, because it’s not the usual setup for these corporate parties. There’s conga drums and a güira, along with space for an entire horn section.

“What’s with the Latin music band?” you ask.

“Oh, that’s right. You weren’t here for all that,” says Jungkook, who’s sitting on your other side. “Shame.”

“All what? What’s a shame?”

Jimin smirks. “We had a client a couple of years ago, a salsa choreographer who claimed that a big studio used their choreography and hadn’t credited them properly. Bang took them on as a client, and won, but instead of payment, he wanted lessons for everyone in the firm.” Jimin laughs at the memory. “He made everyone go twice a week for six months, until everyone could dance. He said he was bored of no one dancing at parties. Cee was actually one of the instructors and she turned Hobi into a pro dancer. You’ll see.”

“Really?” You can’t wrap your head around your colleagues dancing with any type of grace. Well, Jimin, yes, but the rest of them?

“Yeah, it’s tradition at these parties now.” He looks at you and shakes his head. “How are you going to fit in if you can’t dance with the rest of us?”

Before you can respond, the band strikes up their first tune. The opening strains of Elvis Crespo’s Suavemente fill the room. There’s a ripple of excitement as people all over the room start to get up. Soon the dance floor sways with couples dancing. You almost can’t believe your eyes. They're actually good.

Jimin’s face sparkles with mischief. “Come on. Merengue’s easy.”

He stands and holds his hand out to you. You put your hand in his and let him pull you out of your chair and onto the dance floor. He finds an empty spot and places one hand on your upper back, the other holding up your other hand. “It’s easy, just follow my lead. It’s step, step, step, to the beat.”

You roll your eyes and follow his exaggerated movements, your hips swaying to the music. He’s right, merengue’s easy, and you’ve danced it before. He looks at you, eyebrow raised and tentatively leads you into a turn. You follow flawlessly. He narrows his eyes at you when you come back to face him and he brings his arms up in a series of twist and turns. Again, you follow his every move.

“Are you a sleeper agent or something?”

You laugh and keep dancing while you chat. “I learned in college, then kept dancing in law school to blow off steam.”

As the music ends, he spins you out then back into a dip.

“You owe me at least two more dances before the night’s up!”

You’re grinning as you come back to the table. It’s been at least a year since you last danced, but it all came back to you, like riding a bike.

Your coworkers clap as you sit down.

“Did they ask you if you could dance when they interviewed you?” asks Jungkook.

“Yeah, there was a dance component to the interview,” you deadpan. Hoseok laughs across the table.

The band strikes up an upbeat salsa and the rest of the table sits back to watch as Hoseok and Cee become the center of attention. They’re mesmerizing, their footwork impeccable. It’s clear they’ve spent many hours getting to know each others’ bodies, and they communicate with just a single look. There’s shimmies and even a lift that sends Cee flipping over Hoseok’s back. At the end of the song, the room claps for them just as much as they’re clapping for the musicians.

The night passes, with you dancing to almost every song. Even Brian from Mergers and Acquisitions, nerdy Brian with the bad haircut and the ill-fitting pants, can lead a fun salsa.

The song ends, and the band transitions to another merengue.

“Can I have this dance?”

You turn to see Namjoon holding out his hand to you. You nod and tell yourself it’s okay that your heart is beating fast, because it’s just all the physical exertion of dancing seven songs in a row.

Instead of bringing you into a closed hold like Jimin did, Namjoon holds out both of his hands in front of him in a two-hand hold. He cracks a couple of jokes you can barely hear over the music as he spins you around the dance floor. His moves are a little basic, but he’s confident in his leads. You wonder if he only knows simple steps, or if he’s keeping it simple on purpose to avoid causing a medical emergency.

The song ends and he leads you back to the table. You plop down on your chair, beat. He looks like he’s going to sit next to you, but one of the partners pats him on the shoulder, a silent request to dance the bachata the band just started.

Jungkook emerges from the dance floor, his sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. He takes the chair Namjoon was about to take and gulps down water. “I forgot how much I sweat at these parties.”

He hasn’t sat down for a while too. You’ve seen him out of the corner of your eyes, pulling off daredevil moves on the dance floor.

“You look like you’re having fun, though.”

One corner of his lip lifts in a half-smile, teeth flashing. Your stomach flip flops as he considers you for a long moment.

“You did too.”

Namjoon comes dancing into view and you both lapse into silence. He’s doing the two-hand hold for this dance too, though from this vantage point, you can see his hips swaying expertly to the sensual beat. You can’t take your eyes off him.

You and Jungkook sigh at the same time when he disappears from view. He’s been watching Namjoon, too.

“We’re hopeless,” laments Jungkook from beside you. He looks at you with a sad smile on his face. “We can’t keep going like this.”

You want to rub your hands over your face to scrub all thoughts of Namjoon out of your head, but remember at the last second the painstaking effort the makeup artist went through to get your eyeshadow just right.

Instead, you take up your latest glass of champagne. You hold it up in a toast in one hand and in the other you extend your pinky finger.

“We’re going to get over this crush by the end of the year,” you say.

Jungkook looks serious as he wraps his pinky finger around yours. He clinks glasses and says, “Or die trying.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.“ You tip your drink back regardless. “We won’t go that far, but we’ll try.”

“We’re in this together,” he says, his nose scrunching up as he smiles. He still hasn’t let go of your pinky finger and he pulls you up when he stands. “Let’s dance.”

One of your favorite salsa songs starts playing, “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. The song starts off slow and he makes you laugh by hamming it up, doing some dramatic body rolls to the initial oohs and aaah of the song. He strikes a dramatic pose and gestures to you. You turn slowly, adding a few slow body rolls of your own and you end with your hand in his. The beat kicks in and you’re spinning and turning.

Any remaining thoughts of Namjoon get twirled out of your head as you come in close together to execute tricky footwork and then out again. Jungkook is not a lazy lead like some men who just stand in place and twirl you over and over. He dances along with you, his leads sure and confident. You hold your own, your feet never missing a beat. It’s the most fun you’ve had dancing salsa and you can tell he’s having fun too.

A gleeful smile stays on your face the entire song, which ends too quickly. You’re both laughing and out of breath at the end of it. You give him a double high five to say thank you.

Usually, you’ll retreat to the edge of the dance floor for the next song, but the band announces a quick break and as the strains of the next song come on, he turns to you and raises an eyebrow in question.

You recognize the Romeo Santos song and it seems like Jungkook does too. It starts out with an accordion playing a tango beat, and he pulls you close into a parody of a tango hold, your clasped hands stretched straight out. You drape yourself over him, giggling, as he leads you in a few steps of a tango walk. As the beat melts into the sensual bachata groove, he keeps you close.

You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the lyrics of the song, or shit, that you haven’t gotten laid in months, but your heartbeat picks up as he slots his leg between yours. It borders on inappropriate, how close he’s holding you as he uses his whole body to lead you in the dance. You can feel his breath in your ear as you spin together across the dance floor.

When you feel like you’re about to combust from being flush against his body, he leads you in a series of spins that ends with your back against his front. God. You know he works out a lot, but it’s one thing to know it, and quite another to feel his muscular frame pressed against your back. His hand splays across your belly, his thumb just barely grazing the bottom of your breast and he leads you into a slow body roll.

Your skin is on fire everywhere he’s touching you.

The delirious thought crosses your brain, does Jungkook speak Spanish? Because he times his hand dragging up your thigh to the hem of your skirt to the lyrics of the song and, fuck, do you feel like your good sense is being tested as his hand catches, lifting your skirt a fraction of an inch.

He spins you to face him and you swivel down in time to the beat, your hands dragging down from his shoulders to his sides. You look up to his face and your breath catches in your throat. His wide eyes have lost the puppy dog look they get sometimes. They’re dark, like they were that day in your office, like he could eat you whole.

The song ends and you’re breathing hard, forehead pressed against his. Your arms are wrapped up around his neck and his hands are pressed into your lower back. The outside world starts to trickle back in as a new song plays. Luckily, everyone around you is even tipsier than you are, lost in their own little holiday bubble. No one noticed how you two set the dance floor on fire.

“Wanna get out of here?”

The question is barely a whisper out of his lips and you nod in response. He squeezes you to him one last time, then takes your hand as he leads you back past your table. You thank whatever higher power is out there that no one is at the table as you grab your clutch.

Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand as you cross the lobby to get on an open elevator. A small group of your coworkers, absolutely smashed and headed to someone’s suite to get even more wasted, jumps onto the elevator at the last second. They don’t seem to notice you and Jungkook at the back.

The ride down is torturously slow. You worry your lower lip between your teeth and you glance over at Jungkook. He looks straight ahead, his stare intense, but you feel his hand squeeze yours.

The elevator dings open at your floor and you slip out from the crowd of your drunken coworkers. You walk together with determination down the hallway. Your room is closer and as you fumble with the keycard, his hands come to rest on your hips. His body radiates head behind you. After two tries at the door, the lock finally clicks open and you push in over the threshold together.

He crowds you against the closing door, one of his hands flat against the door by your face, the other wrapped around your waist. The door is on a hydraulic and it feels like it takes forever to close behind you.

“Can I kiss you,” he breathes when the door clicks shut.

“Please,” you manage to get out before he presses his lips against yours. Your mouth opens in a gasp, and he takes advantage of this by pressing his tongue against yours. He tastes like whisky and sweat, and it makes your head spin. You tangle a hand into his hair, gripping the soft strands. He groans as you pull, and you bite at his lower lip.

“Is this a good idea?” he asks between kisses.

“I don’t care.”

You hook a leg over his hip and bring him even closer, needing him to be flush against your body. He kisses up your jaw and down your neck, finding a sensitive spot that makes you gasp. He hums against your skin at the sound. You’re going to have a hickey in the morning if he keeps going, but it feels too good in the moment to stop him.

His hand wanders down as you bring his mouth back to yours, fingers ghosting up the leg that’s wrapped around him. You shiver at the light sensation. He finds the hem of your skirt and slips his hand up your skin until he reaches the curve of your ass. He teases the lacy edge of your panties, slipping one finger in between your ass and the lacy fabric.

Heat pools between your legs and you know he’s going to find a mess if his fingers go in the direction you’re hoping they will. But his hand stays firmly on your ass, massaging the skin there. He licks into your mouth and you suck on his tongue. He groans into your mouth. The sound travels directly to your lower belly.

“Touch me,” you say. “Please.”

His hands tug at the waistband of your panties and pull them down. You step out of them as gracefully as you can in a rush and they get discarded somewhere on the floor. You take his wrist and lead it to the apex of your thighs, but he grabs your wrists instead and pins both arms above your head with one hand. You whimper and squirm as his other hand finally cups your cunt. His fingers swipe through your slick folds.

“Fuck. All for me?” His voice is low and rough.

“For you,” you breathe, the half-truth falling easily from your lips.

He wastes no time in slipping two fingers in you and you gasp as he crooks his fingers into your sweet spot. His thumb finds your clit and you feel like you may pass out at the sensation. Your hands clench into fists above your head. He kisses you again, swallowing the noises coming out of your mouth. You grind down on his hand.

“Jungkook, please,” you say into his mouth. You haven’t come yet, but you’re desperate for more. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

He nods against you.

“I need you inside me.”

In the time it takes him to pull a condom out of his back pocket, you’ve already unzipped his pants and taken him in your hands. He’s fully hard, thick and and long in your hands. You give his cock a pump, but he’s pulling your hands away as he rolls the condom on. He brings your leg back around his waist again, making space for himself and pushes you back against the door again as he guides his cock to your entrance.

He buries his face into your neck as he pushes in, inch by inch. You whimper at the stretch, and he groans out your name. You both still when he’s all the way in and you breathe deeply as you adjust to the fullness.

You roll your hips experimentally and that’s all it takes for him to set an unforgiving pace. You meet him thrust for thrust, mutual desperation hanging unspoken between you.

His hand slides up your neck to tangle in your hair, pulling a whine out of you. This spurs him on, his fast pace never faltering. You feel so close, so close, but you still need more.

You move to reach down between your legs, but he swats your hand away with a growl, replacing it with his own. The additional pressure on your clit sends stars bursting behind your eyelids.

You come with a gasp of his name, tight around his cock. You’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to not be responsible for your own orgasm, and god, do you feel like you’re on your way to heaven. Your clenching cunt sends him over the edge, and he comes with a groan muffled into your neck.

He brings his lips to yours again, kissing you gently, softly, tender.

You stay together for a few moments longer, panting, in the same position as earlier, your foreheads pressed together, your arms around his neck, and his arms wrapped around your lower back. His breath intermingles with yours, and he lets out a little laugh after your heartbeats have slowed down a little.

“Stay?” you ask quietly against his lips.

A/N: I’ve been missing going dancing for a while aaaand I’ve been daydreaming of latin dancing Bangtan for a long-ass time so this is the result of that. Here’s a playlist for this chapter:

Suavemente - Elvis Crespo // Lloraras - Oscar D’Leon // Bachata Rosa - Juan Luis Guerra 4.40 // Niña Bonita - Chino & Nacho // Ven Devórame Otra Vez - Lalo Rodriguez // La Carretera - Prince Royce // Lo Tengo Todo - Milly Quezada, Los Vecinos // Ojalá Que Llueva Café - Juan Luis Guerra 4.40 // Yo No Se Mañana - Luis Enrique // Propuesta Indecente - Romeo Santos

Please do not copy or repost. I do not crosspost anywhere else.

#jungkook x you #namjoon x you #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #bts fic #bts smut #junkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jeon junkook smut #kim namjoon smut #fic: love lust & litigation

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