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#can i tag this as my oc. does she count as one of my ocs
clottedscream · 1 year
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this one is dedicated to everyone who simped in the tags of my last post and also to my friends who 100% saw it coming that i would make this
[Image ID: a monochrome digital illustration of a humanized version of Tumblr. She’s a human woman in casual alt clothing, including a dark hoodie, doc martins, and a wrinkled shirt with the old tumblr logo. Yes, her jeans are cuffed. She wears fingerless arm warmers and a kandi bracelet that says nov 5. She has an asymmetrical haircut that covers half of her face, which is towards the viewer. She sits on the floor (there is no background) and grins smugly. End ID]
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NSFW Warning: This contains people mentioning having sex. They do not have sex in this, but it is mentioned that they did. Honestly not sure how required this warning is in this case but I’m not taking any chances.
Bastion: *brooding after having sex with Ida for the first time*
Ida: *tired but staying awake to address whatever angsty nonsense this is* “Hey you, that’s a very thinky frown”
Bastion: “Ida, what are we?”
Ida: *hums* “Good question, well I’m squatting in your freaky death house and you’re trying to eat me sooo Tom and Jerry?”
Bastion: “I only meant that we just had sex”
Ida: *drily* “So did Tom and Jerry.”
Bastion: *fretting* “I really like you.” Ida: “Yep, that’s been made very clear.”
Bastion: “But I want to eat you”
Ida: “Also, been made pretty clear.”
Bastion: “And I would like to do this with you again”
Ida: “Me too actually.”
Bastion: *crescendo of fretting* “But Ida, if I caught you, I would still devour you, in fact I feel hungrier for you now than I did before.”
Ida: “Mn, creepy, but I’ll allow it”
Bastion: *finally notices that Ida is being smart with him* “Ida I get the distinct impression that you aren’t taking this conversation particularly seriously”
Ida: “Bastion, we just fucked.”
Bastion: “Language.”
Ida: *sticks tongue out* “I am tired and the post coitus fuzzies aren’t going to make my input on this any sounder but: I’ve never actually felt safe, at any point in my life, not really, so if you’re worried I’ve misread the danger you pose, then you’re wrong, I don’t trust you to not be a predator Bastion, but…*intertwines her hand with his* I am trusting you with this.”
Bastion: “This” *spoken reverently* “I want this so badly Ida, but what if tomorrow is the day I catch you?”
Ida: *reaches out with other hand and boops his nose* “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself spider boy, but, on the off chance you get very very lucky, I’m not going to hold your true nature against you.”
Bastion: “Could you perhaps promise that? I know humans are not as bound by these things as Fae, but it would comfort me to hear you promise.”
Ida: *rolls eyes* “Bastion, I promise not to hold you trying to eat me or succeeding at eating me against you just because we’ve had sex”
Bastion: “It’s silly I know, I want to devour you, but I do not want to betray you or hurt you. I thought to keep how I felt a secret from you. When I realised I loved you, I was ashamed of myself, I have always been greedy, hunger has ever been my nature, but to want your heart and affection, even though I could never resist devouring you, it seemed a degree of selfishness outrageous even to me”
Ida: “Well, I won’t say it’s not greedy, but I will say I don’t really mind” *yawns*
Bastion: “Ida?”
Ida: *sleepily* “Yes Bastion?”
Bastion: “If I catch you can I still kiss you? Can I hold you gently before I eat you? Can I address you warmly even when you are digesting inside me?
Ida: “Sure Bastion” *yawns* “I don’t see mnn why not…” *falls asleep*
Bastion: “…” *holds her tightly*
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void-kissed · 1 year
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chaining cherry blossom to clover (Clio/Aria)
Clio being chosen for the Dandelions means she gets to avoid the approaching Keyblade War, and Aria vows to find a way to join her in the new world despite not also being chosen. Despite the road ahead not being clear, a very special gift is given, one which would come to be the key to the two reuniting later down the line. (1974 words)
This is my first piece of selfship writing for my new blog, and also my first piece of selfship writing for my (current) newest romantic selfship with my OC, Clio! I hope that anyone who wants to read it enjoys doing so, as I definitely enjoyed writing it ^-^
Tag list: @sunlight-ships | @artificervaldi | @hirael | @thatslikesometaldude (to be tagged in what I make, please see this post!)
Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required!
(Document transcript under the readmore:)
When the Dandelions began to be chosen, the Sapphires were one of the first parties whose members were approached, to the surprise of approximately none of them.
After all, although the group’s existence and purpose did not become widely known for some time, it seemed logical in retrospect that the party which once collected more Lux than any other in the Anguis Union (save for one) would harbour many Keyblade wielders with powerful light; wielders who were therefore wanted, wielders who were valued, wielders whose identities - their bonds to their parties and their Unions - would all be cast aside as they would be made Dandelions, made into Dandelions.
As war’s shadow loomed ever closer over Daybreak Town, tensions slowly but surely rising up to boiling point, the Sapphires found themselves being able to count more than one of their wielders in the ranks of the Dandelions - the ranks of the few who had been chosen from all others to survive the world’s end, leaving the rest of the people they had known to simply fall and be lost in the senseless combat that fate would have them march towards.
“So they want you as well, do they?”
Aria’s casual question that she already knew the answer to reignited the spark in her girlfriend’s eyes as the two sat together by the sunset-lit fountain one evening.
“Yes!” came Clio’s reply, in a light voice that shone with much of her typical positive temperament. “I really can’t say I saw it coming, but it feels like such an honour, you know?”
“I can only imagine it must.”, Aria smiled, though her own tone was comparatively much more subdued. “After all, so few individuals have been selected for such an important role.”
“Mmm! Yeah, that’s.. a really good point..” Clio’s excitement had softened and dissolved somewhat as she picked up on her girlfriend’s quietness. It was easy for her to tell when something was up with Aria, based on subtle details like the way her catlike ears were slightly downcast, or how her wings were subconsciously tilted to face the floor; it had gotten to the point where she couldn’t help but feel slightly surprised when others said that Aria was almost impossible to read, and tended to blame it on things like her cold way of speaking, or the mask that she wore across the lower half of her face.
“..What’s wrong, Ari?”
“I.. it’s nothing.” she tried to insist.
At this, Clio shifted closer towards her on the fountain’s edge, reaching forwards to place a comforting hand on Aria’s shoulder. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna pry if it’s not something you want to talk about, but if something’s up, then it isn’t good to keep it locked up in your heart or anything.“
Careful not to shake Clio’s hand away in the process, Aria shifted, drawing her legs up to lean them on the edge of the fountain. Her wings were now being held outwards slightly to better improve her balance, ensuring she would not go toppling backwards into the fountain.
“It’s.. more that I don’t know how to word it properly without sounding mean..?” she tried to explain. She was looking away at this point, and her left hand was absentmindedly toying with the ribbon of her hairpin, while her right hand held her legs.
“Huh? How so?” Clio asked her. “..What, d’you think I shouldn’t have been picked or something?”
“What? No, it isn’t that at all!” she clarified quickly, finally turning to look at Clio’s now-worried expression. Her own eyes carried surprise; she would never doubt Clio’s worth like that.
“It’s of no surprise to us that you were selected, because you possess such strong light. But you’re not arrogant with it like so many others of similar strength seem to end up being - in fact, I would say you’re the only person with such bright light that I feel so comfortable being around like this.” she admitted. “So, in many ways, you’re perfect for this.”
“Aww, that’s really kind of you to say!” she replied, worry fading away with relative ease and becoming relief. “But, uh.. What is it, then? If I can ask that?”
“Of course you can ask that.” Aria stated plainly. “It’s just.. If you go with the Dandelions, I won’t be permitted to come with you.”
“Why not? I’m.. sure they’d let me bring you with me!” Clio tried to smile further and be reassuring, but the way her voice faltered slightly indicated she was not entirely confident in her statement.
“..Maybe if what they were after were simply strong Keyblade wielders. But they aren’t.” she insisted, turning her head to look down at the ground again. “All they want is light; they’re gathering those whose hearts have strong light inside of them, and leaving everyone else to the chaos that we all know is coming. So, the last thing they would want within their precious ranks is something like me.”
“Oh.. I guess I didn’t think of it like that.” Clio shuffled closer once again, trying to give Aria as much comfort as she could after hearing the “something” and the spite in her tone. “But, if a war really is on its way like they said it was, then surely they’d just want to rescue as many people as they could from it?”
“That would be the sensible way of going about things, but..” She let out a sigh. “Keyblade wielders who have darkness in their hearts are seen by some as weaker, or less trustworthy. Even moreso if those wielders actively try to make use of their natural affinity for darkness, if they happen to have it. It’s.. arguably not entirely misguided, considering the corruptive effect that darkness can have on people’s hearts when too much is present, but that doesn’t mean that everyone who wields the darkness is evil.” Her hand was playing with her hairpin again.
Now it was Clio’s turn to sigh, feeling dejected. “I sure wish more people could actually see that instead of insisting otherwise..”
There was a fairly long pause as the older wielder trailed off, and the pair of girlfriends could only hear the steadily-flowing water from the fountain they were sat on the edge of.
“I mean.. I haven’t technically joined the Dandelions yet.” Clio then stated, taking a moment to lift up the crown of clovers she wore around her head to stop it slipping. “There’s meant to be a meeting pretty soon, but.. I could always just stay here with you instead! At the end of the day, I- I really don’t want to lose you..”
“No.” came Aria’s response, bluntly but not coldly. “You should go with them.”
“Huh? But.. what about you?” she replied. “And everyone else, too - I can’t just leave everyone to suffer while I go with the others!”
“Just because they don’t want me there doesn’t mean I won’t go there, clover.” she stated, very matter-of-factly. “If you’re with them, then I’ll just find a way to make it to you. And it’ll be easier to do that if you go with them, because not only will they then be easier to find, but I can be more certain of your safety while I hunt for them.”
“You really think you can follow them..?” she wondered.
“Yes.”
“..How?” she then asked. “I mean, I definitely reckon you could do it, but.. You sound surprisingly sure about it. A lot more than I would be, in your shoes.”
“..It’s because of this.”
For the third time that evening, Aria’s hand found her hairpin, but this time it was much more deliberate - she reached up above where the ribbon ends hung and carefully brought her fingers around the cherry blossom flower in its centre, running her thumb across its large, soft petals.
“..Your hairpin?” Clio asked.
“Yes.” she repeated. “If you’ll have it, then.. Please take this with you when you go with the rest of the Dandelions. Take it as a promise, and a sign - if it’s with you, then the rest of me can follow. And I will follow, somehow, even if we don’t quite know the method yet. I will find a way to be with you, no matter what it takes. Whether I’m a Dandelion or not.”
A brief moment passed as Clio’s eyes became glittery with tears.
“Aww, you’re going to make me blush, Ari! That’s so sweet of you to say, I.. I don’t think I know what to say! Of course I’ll take it, if you’re okay with giving it to me!”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”
Using her right hand as well to ensure none of her hair got unnecessarily caught, Aria carefully moved her hands into position, her dark red nails that Clio had painted for her working their way to where the cherry blossom grew from. She then took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tugged as hard as she could bring herself to pull. Despite bracing for the action, she still let out an involuntary hiss as she did this, wincing and shutting her eyes much more tightly as the pale pink flower came sailing away from her head with the force.
Keeping her right hand pressed against the left side of her head to try and lessen the intensity of that awfully sharp pain she now felt, she tried desperately to stop tears forming in her eyes, before all of a sudden becoming aware that a strong hand was pressing into her back, gently but firmly, just below her wings.
“I’ve got you.” came Clio’s voice from her right-hand side, before her other hand reached up to clear the tears from Aria’s eyes. “You nearly sent yourself right into the water with how hard you pulled on that.”
“It.. was needed..” she replied, somewhat vaguely. Her head was now tilted to be facing Clio’s more directly, allowing her to see her girlfriend’s supportive if slightly concerned expression. She could feel both her arm and her hand on her back now, giving her confidence that she would not fall backwards even if she wasn’t holding herself upright out of tension.
It was then that Aria realised she had one more thing left to do, so she moved her left hand towards Clio’s right. Resting on her open palm was the flower that once rested in the centre of the hairpin she had never been seen without, the blossom’s five pink petals and two green leaves looking delicate and tender in the sunset’s light. As carefully as if she were handling a baby bird, Clio reached out and tentatively lifted up the flower, making sure not to accidentally damage the petals as she took a closer look before then holding it close to her chest. It seemed to attach itself directly to her jacket once she had decided where it would go.
“..Thank you.” was all Aria could say to fill the silence, her voice just as soft as the flower petals felt to touch. The sharpness of the pain was thankfully becoming somewhat duller and less intrusive with time, and Clio’s gesture of bringing the flower to her heart was something she had treasured immensely.
“Don’t worry, shadow. I’ll keep this safe for you.” Clio declared, now placing her hand on her chest next to the flower. “You’ve just got to make sure you stay safe as well.”
“I will. I trust you, clover.” she replied, shifting to more properly reciprocate her girlfriend’s support with a hug. “No matter what the future holds.. No matter how long it takes.. I will reach you, and we’ll both make it past whatever is coming, in our own ways.”
As the last of the sunlight faded, the pair stayed and cherished this moment in each other’s arms.
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joonberriess · 3 months
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⋆ TAGS — cheating, older!oc, oc’s a mommy (her hubby’s a hunk), obsessive!jk, blackmail, dead dove do not eat, non-con and dub-con (oc never says yes at all bc she’s coerced even if she "gives in"), dark, smutty smut, tit play, mentions of breast milk, protected sex and then unprotected sex (dw reader is secure n safe!), harassment bc jk does not take no for an answer, threats that oc lowkey gets hot n bothered by, exhibitionism but my way (SPOILER: someone gets fucked next to a sleeping body), some plot, slight(?) dirty talk, jealous!jk, jk is not a good guy at all, oc’s morals r questionable 2, open-ending, SOMEONE DIES sooo, office sex, angry(?) sex, drugging, meanie!jk, degradation, breeding kinks r mentioned, misogyny and objectification, possessive!jk
⋆ WORD COUNT — 15 k
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I can live in your dreams, will you be my fantasy little baby? 
“Oh, it’s you.” You let a breath of relief from your lips, “Did you need something?” There’s a small pause and you end up averting your eyes. 
The tension is heavy and it has your stomach twisting in knots out of anticipation. Your eyes flicker over to him and you make eye contact in an instant. You stare into his eyes nervously as an all too familiar sensation of feeling like prey washed over you. 
“Always so cold,” Jungkook’s steps are calculated and slow, his dark gaze stays on you the entire time, “but for you though? I’ll take anything y/n.” He stops in front of your desk with a wicked little smile, “My bad–Mrs l/n.” He corrects himself. 
You bite your tongue as a twinge of annoyance passes over you, “Jungkook..” A soft sigh of frustration leaves you, “One of these days you’re going to get me in trouble if you keep calling me by my name, it makes people think..we’re close..” You murmur the last part to yourself while looking to the side, “ ‘s not something I feel like explaining to the dean either.” 
Jungkook draws closer to you, he slides his hand along the surface of the desk as his fingertips lightly graze the wood. Your eyes drop down nervously, you take a step back but he follows. You’re at the corner of the desk when he finally cages you in with one arm, “And why would you have to explain to the dean? Hm? What kinda stuff you got goin’ in your pretty little head?” He grins. 
He’s so close you’re practically inhaling his cologne, he smells undeniably good as you hold yourself back from breathing in more of his intoxicating scent. You jump when his fingers brush over yours, “Relax,” Jungkook laughs playfully, “you’re always so tense.” 
“Was there something you needed?” You finally breathe out after realizing that Jungkook wasn’t going to be paying attention to anything you’ve said up until now. Telling him to stop would be like letting him off with a slap on the wrist and you figured it was better to see what he wanted so you could get this entire interaction over and done with. “I have a few meetings to attend so my time is short.” 
A few beats of silence pass and Jungkook doesn’t say anything which makes it harder for you to figure out what he was feeling. “Do you now?” He hums, “But no, nothing much, I just needed help with the rubric.” 
You quickly retracted your hand from his and stepped away from the desk, “What part did you need help with?” You’re gnawing at your bottom lip, just itching for this entire interaction to be over. 
Jungkook beckons you over, “How am I gonna show you if you’re all the way over there?” He snorts, “C’mere, I won’t bite.” He breathily hums while he fishes out the papers from his bag. 
You wobble over on uneasy legs with your arms folded numbly over your chest. You’ve long tuned out Jungkook’s voice, the only thing you were acutely aware of was where his hands touched as he talked to you. You peered from the corner of your eye to watch as he stroked up and down your arm slowly. Occasionally he’d give you a small faint squeeze to the arm while his thumb rubbed circles over your goosebumps. 
“y/n?” Jungkook’s voice grounds you back to reality, you’re suddenly more aware of your surroundings—more aware of him. “You with me?” He appears out of the blue in your face, you flinch at the close proximity and turn your head. 
“Yeah.” You softly breathe out, “I, uh think you should be fine. You’ve never failed the other assignments before, so this should be no different.” You tug your arm from his hold, “Is there anything else before I go?” Despite slipping on your coat, Jungkook’s piercing gaze manages to make you feel like you’re naked. “Jungkook..?” You whisper. 
Jungkook tilts his head to the side as his hooded gaze racks over your covered form, “Mm,” he toys with his lip ring and bites his bottom lip, “nah, I think I got somethin’. I’ll see you around, Mrs l/n,” he coos softly while licking his lips. 
You’re left standing alone with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. 
+
I can be what you need, little baby. Just tell me what you need. 
You’re not sure when the obsession began, nor WHY it even existed. Had you possibly led him on? Did Jungkook get any mixed signals you might not have been aware you gave him? There were so many why’s but very little answers. 
Jungkook came from a very wealthy background (old money), his father was a famous business tycoon and Jungkook was set to inherit the family company in the future. Much like his father Jungkook lived up to the Jeon name. He was ambitious, intelligent, and cunning. If things weren’t going his way it was known that Jungkook would make it happen one way or another. 
What Jungkook wanted, he got. Thanks to daddy’s money of course. Despite this though Jungkook proved to be a highly intelligent individual. His exam scores over the years were proof. Even now Jungkook’s scores were at an all time high, he was the picture perfect example of a good student. The perfect role model if it weren’t for his rather unorthodox behavior. 
It began with little thank you notes attached to snacks, then small gifts like plushies and flowers. From the very beginning you had been wary of his gifts, you couldn’t decipher whether he was sending them platonically or romantically, but you being the absolute saint decided to give him the benefit of doubt. That alone would be your demise. 
What began as brief polite conversations slowly turned into lingering looks and wanton whispers of unspoken desires. 
You as his teacher knew better and tried to set things straight with him but each time you sat him down he’d give you those devilish eyes of his and leave you a sputtering puddle. What even was the point if Jungkook always managed to turn you into a mess with his cocky attitude?
You found yourself worrying about your job more often. Jungkook simply didn’t care about the ring you wore around your finger, it’s something he’d come to tell you many, many times. You partially blamed yourself for not being firmer with him, Jungkook was a brute who had no regards for your personal boundaries. It was evident in the way he cornered and handled you to his liking. 
Which is why you weren’t surprised with him anymore. 
“Comin’ to bed soon love?” You look up to see your husband propped up against the doorway with his arms folded over his bare chest. You’re tempted to look further down when you notice he’s wearing those damned sweatpants, the ones that hung low on his hips.
“Yeah, I have one more left and then I’m all yours.” You sleepily smile while blowing him a gentle kiss, “And Jae? Did he fall asleep already?” 
Jicheol brushes his wet hair from his face with one hand, “Out like a light, must’ve been real tired from today.” He comments, “Which reminds me of a certain someone’s bedtime.” He gives you a look that immediately has butterflies fluttering, “If you’re not in bed by eleven I’m comin’ in here and carrying your ass out. You’re warned.” He tosses you a little smirk over his shoulder before slipping away and shutting your office door. 
Your face flares up like a shy schoolgirl as you chew on your pen to distract yourself from the not so nice thoughts invading your brain. You notice the papers you’re holding belongs to Jungkook, you’re surprised he ended up at the bottom of the stack. You scratched your head in wonder and curiosity since you wanted to see what Jungkook wrote. With a lazy hum you lean back in your desk chair and begin reading. 
‘I can be your baby in real life, sugar,’
‘Look me in the eye tell me I'm the one,’ 
‘Can't you be my fantasy, little baby?’ 
Your heart begins to race and you swear you can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Shock fills your entire being the more you read and the heat never leaves your face. You don’t know what to think or say, this by far was something you would have never guessed would happen to you. Not even in your wildest dreams, or nightmares. 
The icing on top was the fact that he had written within the essay requirements and had met each and every one of your expectations so technically the essay was valid and you couldn’t just toss it out. It was clear that he had thought it through, he went about his word play smartly and knew how to phrase his words just damn near perfect. 
So here you were now going through a crisis because your very hot student just said he wanted to bang you in different positions all night long. You felt like if this kept up with him you were going to be taking a paid or unpaid leave, it didn’t matter to you as long as you could take a break and get away from this all. Get away from him. 
“Babe?” Jicheol’s voice brings you out of your moment of hysteria, “It’s past eleven-ten come to bed now, yeah?” He strolls into your office, “Damn, that bad?” He says while eyeing the papers sitting in your hands. He goes to reach for them when you finally snap out of it and yank the papers back. “Uhh..okay, didn’t know it was THAT bad of an essay, now quit playing and come to bed.” He groans tiredly. 
You place a hand over your racing heart and sigh, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” You toss the essay onto the desk and lead your husband out by the arm, “Let’s just call it a night.” You mumble while hiding your face in his arm. Jicheol doesn’t mention anything else. 
.
“He went too far.” You whisper under your breath while turning away from the innocent papers sitting on your desk—innocent but oh so ominous.
Since reading it you’ve been on edge. You tried to avoid the topic of essays during a lecture but a sweet girl had asked and you were forced to talk about them. Jungkook had a (knowing) smirk the entire time as you informed the class that you indeed had finished reading and grading them. You hadn’t meant to but your eyes slowly gravitated towards him, your gazes met until you were the one who turned away with a flushed expression. 
A gentle but firm knock brings you out of your inner turmoil, “Who is it?” You softly call back while turning to the door with a hand over your chest. 
“Me,” Jungkook replies while already slipping into the room like he has many, many other times.  
Your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a flip, this was harder than you initially thought it would be. You’re not so sure this is even a good idea but you inhale deeply and close your eyes, “..I’m going to keep this very brief with you,” you step behind your desk while reaching for the essay lying on your desk, “the essay—why?” 
Jungkook grins softly, “What?” He shrugs innocently, “Didn’t like it? Was I a little too ‘vulgar’? Not somethin’ you’re used to people telling you?” His gaze alone is enough to make you feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes, unpleasant little shivers creep up your spine and you try not to let it show how nervous he’s making you. 
“Don’t–” You raise your hand with gritted teeth, “..There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed, and you’re crossing every one of them. I warned you time and time again about your..‘actions’ but you’re not taking me seriously.” You give him a pointed look trying your best to come off as stern. 
Jungkook lazily grins, “Oh but I am taking you seriously Mrs l/n,” the way your name rolls off his tongue shouldn’t make your stomach swoop the way it does, he takes a step closer and you backwards, “ ‘s why you’re my favorite teacher y/n.” 
Your patience finally snaps, “Let me make myself clear: these little games of yours? Stops today. I’m not entertaining you nor the stupid child’s play you have going on. If this keeps going I’ll report this to the dean and have you removed from class.” 
You try your best to stand tall and keep your gaze unwavering but Jungkook’s a challenge though. He stares back defiantly with his dark onyx eyes—they’re empty and void of any emotion (his tongue poking the inside of his cheek says it all though). “Really now?” He hums, “Let me know how that goes for you,” he chuckles under his breath while reaching over with a tattooed hand to play with the family picture lying on your desk, “Cute you even came up with that silly little idea.” 
“Excuse me?” You watch closely as he handles your picture frame so carelessly in his hands.
“Go on,” he nods his head as his lips curl in amusement, “run to the dean and tell ‘em allllll about how inappropriate I am. You have my essay as proof,” he licks his lips, “I wonder if they’ll think the same thing as me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, “pretty face..soft lips..” His gaze drops down before he’s meeting your eyes again, “Pretty everythin’.” 
You clear your throat, “Leave,” you point to the door, “I can’t have you in my class any longer. So leave, I’ll have this situation sorted with the dean by tonight so expect to receive a letter or email.” You hold your hand out for the picture frame, “Jungkook.” 
Jungkook tosses the frame up in the air a few times, each time making your heart skip a beat as you wait with a bated breath. “Okay.” He grins and places the frame in your hold, “There’s a tiny little problem though,” he mumbles and suddenly grips your hands tightly and squeezes. 
You gasp in surprise as he tugs you closer until you’re both leaning face to face. He’s so close you can smell his spicy scented cologne, the forced proximity begins to make you panic with fear. The only thing separating you two is the desk and nothing else—even then you have no doubt he’d just pull you over the surface if he wanted to. 
Your eyes flicker over his face a few times and you nervously lick your lips, “Let me go,” you’re not sure why you’re whispering when you could be yelling and screaming bloody murder right now. 
But you don’t. 
“Jungkook–” 
“You know,” he starts softly, “my dad always said if I wanted something then to take it. No one’s going to give you anything simply because you say please and thank you. You’re either at the top of the food chain or…the bottom. ” You make a wounded noise and turn your cheek to him as his hot breath fans over the side of your face, “and right now ‘m gonna take.” He mumbles, “And if I have to take a little walk down to the dean’s office and tell them that my beloved professor is making moves on me—I will.” 
Your eyes widen and his grip slowly loosens when you start going lax in his hold, “You wouldn’t want me to tell everyone their favorite teacher likes fucking her students? Maybe we can make it a little spicy and tell them how we’ve been having a three month affair? Hm?” 
“Y-You’re insane.” You yank yourself back from his hold in a rather harsh fashion. You cradle your sore wrists to your chest and stare back at him with glossy eyes, “None of that is true and you know it.” 
He barks out a laugh, “Oh baby,” he wipes an imaginary tear from his eye, “who said anything about truth? It’s a wonder what money can buy these days.” He hums, “ ‘s a reaaaalll shame my dad funds a few organizations here too don’t you think? Maybe my dad should have a loong phone call with the dean tonight, they’re pretty good friends after all. I’m sure they’d like to catch up.” 
You feel like your world is crashing down, he’s cornered you and now you’ve got no escape. You’re filled with hopelessness and despair, Jungkook’s got you right where he wants you. “C’mon don’t make that face,” you don’t notice when he comes to stand in front of you, “no one has to know..” He coos quietly while backing you up into the desk.
“Jungkook–” Your hand comes up to push his arm away when he sets it right next to you on the desk, he cages you in with his breath fanning over the side of your face because you refuse to look him in the eyes. His hand is so close to your thighs too it nearly has your heart jumping out of your throat. “Jungkook, please.” You whimper while turning your face as the two of you look into each other's eyes. 
His lips part but a knock brings the two of you out of your trances. He looks at the door in annoyance and clicks his tongue, “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters more to himself while refusing to move from his spot. “Mrs Gong?” You hear one of your students say, “I was um, wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about the essay.” She says softly. 
“Go on,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, “answer her.” He teasingly nips at you. 
You tremble under him and push at his chest repeatedly, “Y-Yes..! Give me a moment I’m finishing up with another student right now dear,” you yelp when Jungkook strokes over your inner thigh, slapping a hand over your lips for a few seconds, “... J-Just sit out there, I’ll come in a bit.” 
Jungkook chuckles quietly, and ignores the fierce glare you throw his way. “Let me go, Jungkook.” You attempt to slip away from the desk but Jungkook brings you back in with a hand curled around your waist, “Jungkook–” He silences your desperate pleas with a soft little ‘shh’ as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can’t do anything but helplessly stare back at him, angry at yourself for being so weak and caving in. 
“Here’s what’s gonna happen baby, so listen carefully,” he softly whispers, “I’m going to leave you my phone number and you’re gonna answer me later on tonight—ah-ah, none of that now,” he says when he sees a protest bubbling up, “you’re gonna be a good girl and reply okay? I don’t give a fuck if your husband is there or not, if you don’t answer me baby I’m gonna be forced to do somethin’ ugly and we don’t want that now do we? No, that’s right.” He talks to you like he’s speaking to a child or something. “Got it all down?” 
You nod timidly and hold your tongue, “Good girl.” He smiles and lets you go, “Remember baby: answer.” He waves his phone in the air teasingly while stepping away. 
You watch him walk to the door, he stops briefly and your heart skips a beat wondering what he could want now. “And for the record—I meant every little word just now.” He smirks darkly before pushing the door open and stepping out. You’re left standing there in the middle of the room trying to calm your racing heart.  
“Mrs Gong?” The girl timidly calls out. 
Your eyes snap over to the picture frame sitting in your hands and you take a deep long breath, “Come in.” You just dug yourself a hole you can’t even get back out from. 
You looked out of your class window to see that the sky was beginning to set and it was a lovely shade of red-orange hues mixed with purple. You quickly glanced down at your watch and figured now would be a better time to leave. You shrugged your coat on and carried your things out the door. The janitor greeted you on your way out as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway. 
The campus was pretty lonely and empty save for a few people here and there. Your heels clicked against the pavement as you made your way down to the teachers parking lot. From a distance you heard another pair of footsteps but you paid no mind thinking it was probably another teacher or the security guard. Sometimes things were too good to be true. 
“Was beginning to wonder where my favorite teacher wandered off to.” Jungkook calls out from behind. He stands there with his hands in his pockets and a hand combing through his slightly messy hair. “Thought she might’ve run off for a second, we can’t have that happening now can we?” He hums. 
You let out a chilly breath and shake your head, “Been busy with work and life stuff..” Your eyes are lowered to the ground, you refuse to meet his eyes because you already know what’s staring back. “Did you need something?” You tilt your head. 
Jungkook toys with his lip ring and nods, “I’m guessing that’s why you requested days off for next week then hm? Husband takin’ you on a little trip, is that it?” He looks mildly bothered but the underlying possessiveness in his tone makes it easy to ignore. “Tell me baby,” he steps closer while caging you in between him and the car, “you trying to get away?” 
You look up at him through your lashes and shake your head, “Jungkook, we’re outside.” You squirm around uncomfortably, “Someone’s gonna see us..!”
“C’mere,” he curls his hands around your waist and tugs you into him, “we got some business of our own.” You nearly stumble when he begins walking you two away from your car, your eyes dart around the parking lot in panic as you attempt to budge yourself away from Jungkook. 
“Where are you taking me? Stop..! You realize how crazy this looks,” you turn your head in time to see a sleek black car come into view, no doubt it belonged to Jungkook though. “Why am I here Jungkook?” You pushed at his chest until he finally stumbled back a little. 
Jungkook gives you a playful smile, “Out, gonna give you a nice little send-off before you run off from me next week baby.” He reaches around you to unlock his car, “Get in, ‘s fuckin freezing out here.” When you came out the sky was still colorful, now it’s completely dark and the only thing around was the orange lighting from the several lamps in the parking lot. 
“Jungkook I’m not getting in the car with you,” you hopelessly look at him while pursing your lips in an attempt to suppress the oncoming whine, “I have things of my own to do, my husband is waiting for me.” You secretly relish in the way his eyes narrow when you mention ‘husband’, “Can’t all this wait for another day?” 
He props himself against the car, his gaze drops down to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands baby,” he leans down to whisper low in your ear, “we do this the easy way or something really bad can happen.” His lips slide along your cheek gently, placing a small trail of kisses to the corner of your mouth. 
You meet his eyes as a thick wave of tension falls over you both. He takes your silence as an answer and pecks your lips, “Get on then,” he murmurs. His car lights up in a fuschia pink color when he starts it, you feel small curled up in his leather seat. 
This is it. You’re really doing it. 
Your heart races even faster when you see Jungkook reach over to shift the gears, “Wait, Jungkook–” You slip your hand over his marveling in the size difference, “My car, I can’t leave it here.”
Jungkook lets the steering wheel go and for a minute you think he’s giving in, but ignorance is bliss. He tugs you in by a hand to the cheek, slotting his lips over yours as he uses his hold to keep you still. You sit there unresponsive in complete shock, Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind as he occasionally tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth. He moves his lips languidly until wet little smacks begin to fill the quiet car. 
You reach over to push him off but he quickly snatches your wrist up in his hold, you barely even fight back as you end up falling into his touch even more. You make soft noises as tiny little moans spill into Jungkook’s hot mouth, your lips are glossed over and slicked up with spit from his kisses. 
Jungkook pulls away and pants hotly into your mouth, “You make it hard to control myself.” He quietly murmurs while pressing chaste kisses on you, “You have no idea,” he whispers, “those pretty little eyes and sweet lips drive me mad sweetheart. Fuck,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 
Jungkook quickly shifts the car and begins pulling out of the parking lot. You end up hopelessly looking back at your car as it gets smaller and smaller the further he gets. To add more salt to the wound your phone buzzes loudly in your purse, you pause and Jungkook does too. “Answer it.” He says whilst slipping his hand over your knee, “C’mon baby, don’t keep him waiting.” 
Your eyes sting with unshed tears as your worst fears come true, Jicheol’s texting you asking if everything’s alright and if you’re coming home now. Your eyes slide over the words over and over again, you can’t bring yourself to reply to him it was too much. Eventually though (because of Jungkook’s piercing gaze) you manage to reply that you’re heading out for drinks with some colleagues. 
Jicheol replies with a ‘have fun, love u lots’ and something inside of you twists bitterly. “Tell him not to worry,” Jungkook turns to face you at a stop light, “me and you? We’re gonna have a nice loong conversation all night.” 
“Relax pretty,” Jungkook mumbles behind you, “just sit back and let me do all the work.” His big hands settle over your hips using his grip to guide you towards the large bed sitting in the middle of the room. 
Originally (or so you’ve been told), Jungkook was planning on having a dinner date first before taking you back somewhere for some fun. But here you were, standing in the middle of a hotel room feeling like a cheap whore. Funnily enough Jungkook had picked out a couples suite too judging by the rose petals, candles and bottle of wine. 
You came to a stop in front of the bed, your hands were gripping the sash tying your coat together in an effort to stop Jungkook. Like everything else though, he took again and again.
His hands pried yours off and slipped the coat right off your shoulders, it pooled around your feet and you were left standing in your white blouse and black pencil skirt. You could feel his hot breath fanning over the side of your neck, sending pleasant little shivers down your spine. 
“Look at you,” he whistles low as his hands cup both of your tits through the blouse, “like a wet dream come true, you’d make any man fall to their knees baby.” He purrs while massaging both soft mounds, the stimulation has your tits aching and nipples hardening through the cups of your bra. 
A weak whimper slips past your lips, you reach up to grip his wrist tightly rather than attempt to pry him off. You stumble over your coat just trying to get away from him, “Jungkook—no,” you turn in time to see him advancing towards you like a predator. 
He licks his lips slowly as he reaches out to gently shove you onto the bed, “No what baby? I’ll treat you realll good, show you how you’re meant to be fucked stupid. I’d have you hangin’ from my cock in a heartbeat, ‘s all you’re good for baby: takin’ cock and bein’ filled with cum.” Jungkook climbs over and pins you on the bed, “Don’t need to use your pretty little head when you’re with me baby,” 
You cry out in surprise when he rips your blouse open and leaves a flurry of hot open mouthed kisses over your chest and peeking tits. “Fuckin’ hell,” he snarls and yanks the bra down, your tits come spilling out from the cups. He takes a hard nipple into his mouth and suckles gently, mimicking that of a hungry babe. 
“Oh,” your eyes squeeze shut as hot pleasure shoots all the way down between your legs where you need it the most. His tongue rolls and swipes over your nipple repeatedly, he hums low and sneaks his other hand up to cup your tit. You moan louder as Jungkook fondles the soft flesh in his hand and your nipple ends up rubbing against his palm. 
“You like that?” He rasps out and pulls away to give your other nipple the same treatment, “Got such slutty little tits for me, bet I can make ‘em leak for me.” A cheshire grin paints his lips as he deviously licks over your wet nipple, “We’ll just have to wait ‘n see, don’t we little mama?”
It feels like you’re in heaven right now just by having your tits played with. It wasn’t like Jicheol and you didn’t have an active sex life—nor was it boring by any means—but one thing that never quite went away was the sensitivity in your tits. Another thing you had discovered was that you still had some milk in there, if you played with them for long enough your tits leaked like crazy (Jicheol knew this firsthand). 
Your eyes flutter shut as more moans force themselves out of you, “Fuck–wait,” you whisper out while pushing his head away, “hurts a little…” You mumble while shivering from the cold air hitting your wet nipples. 
“Gonna taste that pussy of yours baby,” Jungkook reaches for the zipper to your skirt, “wonder if it’s as pretty as you.” He licks his lips hungrily, “Show me,” he pats your thighs and tugs the skirt down your legs. 
Jungkook moans when he sees the lace garter attached to your sheer black stockings, “God, look at you. You were made for me weren’t you baby?” He strokes over your legs and then pries them apart, settling nicely between your open legs. 
Jungkook tugs you close until your hips are pressed tight against his own, you can feel the print of his hard cock through his joggers. It feels hot and heavy, you’re already picturing how big his cock’s gotta be and the mere thought is enough to make your mouth water. As ashamed as you are to admit it, but you’re eager for him to fuck you. You want him to make good of his promises to fuck you all night in different positions until you can’t cum anymore. 
A wave of regret washes over, “Wait,” you sit up and cover your chest with one arm mentally preparing yourself. If you were going to cheat, then you were going to make sure you didn’t remember any of it, “pass me a glass of wine.” Your lips are pursed in a soft pout, gaze half-lidded and dreamy-like (a charm you used on Jicheol to get your way at times). 
“There you go sweetheart,” he reaches over for the entire bottle and pops it open, “let yourself go for me.” He purrs and brings the wine directly to your lips. 
.
You become hyper aware of everything around—the rain that hits outside the fogged-up windows, the faint crackling noise from the candles, and the shuffling noises from the bed. How much time has passed since you both got here?
“Oh fuck..” You hear Jungkook breathily mutter under his breath, he continues to fuck his cock in and out of your soaked and sopping pussy without abandon. The lube ends up dripping from your folds and slides down the crevices of your cum splattered cheeks.
You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve cum, your clit’s numb and rubbed raw by now. An array of used condoms litter the trashcan nearby and by the looks of it the box might be empty after this round. Surely he’ll stop there…right? 
“Hear that?” He grunts with effort as he smacks his hips into yours, “Sloppy pussy drippin’ all over me, ‘s like you were made for me, made to take cock ‘n be my lil’ cock sleeve.” He purrs low and lowers himself until he’s hovering over you. His strong hand comes up to grip your thigh, he wraps it around his waist and holds you close while he fucks into your greedy pussy over and over again. 
Your face heats in embarrassment as the squelching and slapping noises get louder, you manage to bite your bottom lip and suppress the cries and whines that threaten to slip out. Everything about this is so good, from the way he fucks down to his heavenly cock that Jungkook sure as hell knew how to use, but you rather die than admit your enjoyment openly. 
“Shit.” Jungkook looks like a wet dream come true as his head hangs low in pleasure and his necklace swings back and forth from the force of his thrusts. 
You’re scrambling to find a grip on him, your hands curl around his shoulders and hold on for dear life. Your once quiet sighs become louder mewls and moans, little breathy “uhs” leaving your lips. The louder you get the harder he goes, he’s driving his cock deep inside with such force you wonder if you’ll be able to walk after this. 
With each punishing slap he lands there’s a sweet little sting that follows afterwards. A particular thrust startles you bad when he brushes up against your g-spot. You find yourself leaning into him, thighs widening around his waist as you angle your hips in a way you know his cock will hit the spot. 
“Mm–wait, ‘s good there,” you breathe out, “fuck..right there…” Your words are slurred and come out borderline pornographic reminding you of a porno or something. 
Jungkook doesn’t reply anything other than a grunt, he reaches down to hook your thighs over his shoulders. He’s pressed so close his chest is rubbing up against your sore tits each time he lands another thrust. You’re finally letting your moans slip as the volume begins steadily increasing inside the room. The noises you both make rival those of the creaking and skin slapping. 
“My name baby,” Jungkook whispers over your lips, “let ‘em know who’s fuckin’ this pussy.” The crazed look he has in his eye paired with his wild thrusting has your orgasm slowly ebbing away at you again. 
You don’t like how close he is, how exposed you’re feeling from the forced face to face proximity he has you in. The hunger in his eyes has your cunt clenching around him like you’re afraid he’s gonna stop fucking you. Jungkook lets out a low moan and reaches up with one hand to squeeze your chin tightly, “C’mon, don’t go all stupid on me,” he licks his lips. 
“Jungkook,” you softly moan as your lips part in a tiny ‘o’ from the grip he has on your chin/cheeks, “mmph—’m coming..!” You grit your teeth and arch your back just a tiny bit given that Jungkook’s got you in a mating press. 
Jungkook lets your face go and does the unexpected, he lands a hard slap on your ass before he’s rubbing the sore skin gently, “Louder.” He lands another smack, this one hurting more than the one before.
“J-Jungkook..!” You cry out with watery eyes. 
“Again.” Smack.
You manage to whimper out a half-garbled cry of his name, your pussy rhythmically throbs around his cock in a milking motion. There’s a nasty sound each time he bottoms out balls deep inside, your thighs shake and tremble from their spot on his shoulders. You’re left with a dazed cloudy feeling afterwards—nipples sore and your pussy wet as hell. 
“Mmm,” you bite your lip and turn your face away in dizziness, “s..leepy..” 
Jungkook doesn’t stop fucking you even if you sleepily beg him to stop. He pumps away at your spent cunt until he’s coming with a low groan of your name and a throbbing cock. You let out a sleepy sigh as your eyes begin slipping shut, you feel Jungkook gently tap your chin to get you awake again, “Open up for me baby, we’re not done here.” He hums low. 
+
You woke up early in the morning after barely managing to catch any sleep. Jungkook had his face tucked in the crook of your neck and his arms tightly wrapped around your body. Your back was pressed against his chest where his necklace tickled the back of your neck. His hands were folded over your middle, grip tight and snug. You were beginning to wonder how the hell you were getting out. 
“Fuck my head hurts,” you whisper out while lifting your head to survey your surroundings. 
Clothes, shoes, bags—they were tossed everywhere. The sheets were sliding off the bed and the comforter was completely off hanging to the side. You spotted the empty glass of wine and two cups sitting together on the nightstand next to the candles, bitterly reminding you of the night before. 
“I need to get out of here.” You whisper while tightly wrapping the white sheets around your body. 
You don’t know how but you somehow manage to untangle yourself from Jungkook’s arms and slip off the bed. Jungkook’s still sleeping so you use this as a chance to dress and leave quickly. You’re not too sure if you’ll be leaving anytime soon if Jungkook wakes up. 
“Shit.” You frown when you see all the messages Jicheol sent you (there were a ton of missed calls too). 
jicheoooll<3 : babe r u ok? 
9:23
don’t get too wasted, call if you need me to come
9:35
having fun?? 
10:00
you staying with friends tonight babe? pretty late alr
10:57
gn, call me in the morning beautiful 
Once you manage to get dressed and call a taxi, you put all your attention to replying with a made-up story in your head. The guilt is eating you alive but you can worry about feeling like a shitty person later, right now you need to get away.
The cold air hits you in your face when you step out of the warm building, people are going about their days and cars are moving steadily through traffic. You hear a beep and you see your taxi parked on the side of the road. For now you can forget and you’ll worry about Jungkook later, you think to yourself while slipping into the warm car. 
.
Your heart begins pounding at the sight of Jicheol’s car which is still parked out in front when you come home. You check the time on your watch and numbly realize he must’ve called in, the guilt feels ten times worse. With a heavy sigh you park the car in the driveway and slip out with your things and coat in hand. You were going to have to face him and your son one way or another, no use in crying over it now. 
“What’s done is done.” You find yourself thinking out loud while heading up the steps. Your key is halfway in when the door suddenly opens and the warm air from inside hits you in the face. You’re momentarily stunned as you stand there with your hand still hovering in the air, “Jicheol.” 
Your husband lets out a breath of relief as his big hands come up to cup your face inspecting for any injuries etc, “You’re okay,” he says in obvious relief, “did you have fun last night?” 
“Yeah..” You whisper back, “Think ‘m gonna shower though, I stink.” You complain softly while heading inside rather quickly in an attempt to avoid Jicheol because you don’t know whether you want to cry or scream at your own guilt, “How’s Jae?” You were hoping to slip away to the bathroom before Jicheol could catch up but he’s hot on your tail after shutting the front door. 
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you bitterly think while turning the hot water on. 
“He’s fine, your mom came and picked him up last night. He’s gonna stay over for the weekend.” Jicheol slips his hands around your waist and gently guides you into the spacious bathroom, “Wanted to be here when you came,” he mumbles in your ear while kissing over your neck and shoulder, “missed you last night.” His hands slowly unbuttoned your messy blouse, “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout your fine ass, should’ve never let you walk out the house like that.” He huskily says. 
Normally you’d shudder in anticipation and delight but right now the guilt is eating away at you. Your eyes slip shut in an attempt to focus and steer your mind away from what happened last night but god Jicheol’s making it hard. No matter how much you try to think about something else, your traitorous mind finds a way to flash images of Jungkook ripping your top open and sucking your nipples till they were sore and leaky. 
“Got such slutty little tits for me, bet I can make ‘em leak for me.”
A breathy little ‘yes’ falls from your lips when the pair of hands massaging your tits slip under the cups and knead your sore mounds of flesh. Jicheol rolls your nipples between his fingers knowingly, tugging just the way he knows you like. “So fuckin’ needy.” Jicheol chuckles darkly. You lose yourself in the feeling as moans and sighs fall, the heat from the water running isn’t helping much either. 
Your eyes slip open and a noise of confusion leaves you when Jicheol stops to tilt your chin towards him. Everything shifts back into place and you’re suddenly aware of everything around you—the running water, the steam, Jicheol—you try to ignore the disappointed feeling you get in your chest (you're scandalized that you’re feeling disappointed to begin with). 
“You okay baby?” Jicheol looks worried, “Want me to stop?” 
“No,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug him closer to you. Jicheol stares at you through half-lidded eyes, licking his lips hungrily when you bring his face down. Your lips hover over his, “I missed you too.” You whisper quietly before closing the distance between you two. 
Jicheol releases a muffled groan and slips his hand down to grip your hips tightly, you sigh blissfully when you press up against his front. You can feel the outline of his cock pressing against your lower stomach, sitting there throbbing from its confinements. He mutters a husky “fuck” and lifts you up onto the countertop with your back pressing against the foggy mirror. 
Jicheol always makes you forget. 
+
You ended up pulling Jungkook aside after a lecture sometime later on during the week. You spend the entirety of your mini-vacation at home sulking in discomfort anytime you think about what happened with Jungkook, and Jicheol wasn’t making it any easier with his sweet self. It was driving you insane and you felt like you needed to talk about it to feel a little better about your shitty actions. 
Jungkook already has a sly little grin on his face when he slips into your office, “Why the pouty little face? You’re the one who called me here,” he folds his arms over his chest as he stands in front of you with amusement written all over his features. 
You meet his eyes hesitantly and take a few seconds to gather your thoughts, “Now that you got what you wanted, can we both mutually agree this little thing of yours is over?” What’s scarier than Jungkook’s anger is his silence. It was like trouble was brewing in your face and you didn’t know how to stop or control it. “Don’t look at me like that Jungkook, you knew what was coming. I’m married for fucks sake,” you whisper to him, eyes darting back and forth between him and the door.
“Our thing.” Jungkook loudly corrects making you turn your head in alarm, “last I remember it takes two to tango baby, ‘n you sure as hell didn’t seem done when I fucked you all night long. Or did you forget?” He tilts his head to follow your gaze when you begin avoiding his eyes, “Hm? C’mon sweetheart, tell me how much you enjoyed it—how your little pussy was so good to me and soaked my cock?” He cages you in and yanks your chin up to face him, “C’mon, say it.”
You let out a terrified whimper and try to push him away but Jungkook pins you up against him, “Jungkook–let go,” you turn your face away trying to look away, “get off..!” 
“Oh but you loved it baby,” he coos out while watching you fight against him like a child throwing a tantrum, “ ‘s why you gave it up to me so easily,” he pouts mockingly, “rode ‘n fucked me like the little fiend you are sweetheart.” He rasps hotly in your ear, “Gripped my cock nice ‘n tight with that soaked cun—” 
You moaned wantonly as he wrapped his lips around a sensitive spot on your neck, through your panic though you began pushing at his shoulders to stop him from leaving a mark, “J-Jungkook, no,” you bite down on your lip with a muffled moan, “fuck—just listen to me dammit!” You grip his face in both hands, “There are rules and boundaries Jungkook, you can’t just fucking waltz in here doing shit because you feel like it alright?! My job, my reputation, my LIFE is on the line and you’re more concerned with getting your dick wet? Do you just not care that my life can potentially—no—be ruined, all because you’re a rich brat who wanted pussy?” 
Jungkook recovers from the initial shock when you snapped at him, he cups your face and slams his lips against yours. You pant hotly into his mouth while he spins you both around and guides you onto the desk, papers and pens go flying as Jungkook comes to stand between your parted legs. You’re forced to let him in as he moves his slicked up lips desperately, he kisses with such ferocity it knocks the breath out of you. 
“Mmph—Jungkook,” you whisper between harsh breaths and kisses, “stop.” You gasp out as he buries his face in your neck and leaves more filthy opened mouthed kisses. 
He pulls away with a soft pant, “You don’t want me to, trust me,” he tilts your chin again so you’re facing him, “I’ll make your life a living hell in point two seconds baby, don’t test me. Unless you want everyone to see how much of a cock slut in bed you are, is that it baby? You want them to see how pretty you look when you’re hanging off this cock? Because I can make it happen.” He darkly whispers. 
A sick part of you shivers at the threat when he talks to you in that low tone he uses when he’s angry. Your pussy has a second little heartbeat down there because of him, you can’t even say you’re ashamed anymore. You silently stare because you refuse to give him the satisfaction of replying. Jungkook doesn’t need to hear it though because he’s already leaning in to kiss you more gently than before. 
“Don’t need to think,” Jungkook mumbles, “just sit ‘n look pretty for me sweetheart, ‘s all you need to do.” He trails off as his hands slip up your skirt, hooking his fingers around your panties and tugging. They come sliding down to your ankles while Jungkook works his belt open, “Gonna give you what you need,” he trails off. 
Your lust filled eyes meet him in a fierce stare down, not once do you look away as he spreads you open and makes himself comfortable between your legs. You hate how easy it is to submit and fall under his control. You were supposed to be the one with authority here, not him. Funny how he turned you putty in his hands each time. 
Jungkook fists his cock with slick noises, he’s pushing through your slicked up folds and you feel the head poke at your unclenched leaking hole. There’s a filthy little voice in the back of your head that hisses in excitement chanting a series of ‘yes’ and ‘in’ over and over again. Your cunt’s hungry and desperate to be stretched out by his fat cock.  
“.. Just shut up and fuck me.” You find yourself whispering while wrapping your legs around his hips and bringing him closer.
Jungkook forgoes the condom entirely, he taps his cock over your pussy a few times before he’s pushing in with a low hiss. He fills you up inch by inch, everything feels so much better with him going in bare. Your mouth waters at every little bump and curve you feel, your pussy opens right up and molds to fit around him.
Your lips fall open in a silent moan as Jungkook bottoms out in your tight little sopping hole, your rim stretches and hugs his cock nice and snug. It’s a tight fit but you’re in utter bliss right now, and even if you wanted to complain at the small sting you feel when he shifts but you don’t bother to. Jungkook’s not going to listen anyways, he never has. 
“There you go,” Jungkook bites on his bottom lip, he keeps you steady with his hands curled around your waist, “open right up for me baby.” He breathes out. 
His hips slowly roll forwards, he idly grinds and bumps his hips against yours. You feel some pressure here and there, like your poor pussy’s going to burst but each time he moves you feel him hit a sensitive spot. Your hips jump when the tip nudges into your cervix, just poking like he’s testing the waters or something. 
“Jungkook–” you huff, “slow down, hurts.” You try shifting around to see if you’re able to steer his cock away from your cervix. 
Jungkook lays a soft apologetic kiss over your shoulder before he’s hoisting you closer, he has your hips tilted at an angle where he’s striking dead on into your oversensitive walls. You moan in relief, biting down on your lip to keep your noises in. You nearly forget that you’re both still on campus, fucking on your desk like it’s some cliche porno. 
“Fuck you feel so good,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, he hooks his chin over your shoulder and fucks into you. His hips roll into yours over and over again, slipping in and out of your drenched pussy with ease. You can faintly hear the wet noises start up wondering if your desk will be salvageable by the end of this. 
You find yourself holding on to him tightly with your arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders. Your moans threaten to spill out each time he fucks himself in, the tip keeps grazing over a sweet spot repeatedly sending pleasant little shivers down your spine each time. Jungkook doesn’t stick to that languid pace for much, he ends up bucking his hips eagerly and shoving his cock deeper. 
“Oh fuck,” he rasps out while hugging your body tighter, “c’mon, make some noise for me baby. Let ‘em know who’s fucking this greedy cunt.” He grits his teeth and slaps his hips into yours with a loud squelching ‘plap’.
“Fuckin’ filthy,” as if on cue your pussy makes another embarassingly loud squelching noise. You’re so fucking wet it’s slipping down between your asscheeks and pooling under you. “And these tits,” he groans and slaps one through your blouse, “such pretty fuckin’ tits on you, wonder how they look all swollen and filled. Maybe I’ll breed this cunt till you catch, it’ll make a nice little surprise for your husband.” He grins wildly. 
You whine loud—it’s unintentional (you’d like to think)—the very thought of possibly ending up pregnant sends a sick thrill down your spine. You find letting cries and whimpers slip from your lips, they’re louder and clearer than before. Jungkook smirks knowingly and you know what he’s about to say, but he simply lays you back on the desk and lifts your legs over his shoulders. The angle changes again and your mouth falls open. 
“There..!” You throw your head back and groan. 
His cock repeatedly punches into your g-spot, you scramble to get a hold of something to keep you grounded. You feel like you’re going crazy with him hammering away at your sore cunt and your impending orgasm bubbling in your lower stomach. Jungkook’s face hovers close and you can feel his hot breaths fanning over you. 
“There?” He moans, “Like it when I fuck you stupid huh? Pretty pussy all meant to be mine,” he slows down but keeps his pace brutal, “gonna fill you up baby, you’re lucky I can’t put a baby in you.. Or else.” He darkly mumbles while leaning down to swallow up all your moans and sighs. 
Your eyes flutter shut from the strong pleasure, he knocks the breath out of you each time he bottoms out. Your clit throbs pathetically from neglect and you desperately want to reach down to soothe it but Jungkook’s pounding you so good you can’t focus. Your lips part with a needy cry, he uses it as a chance to bite on your bottom lip and swipe his tongue over the seam of your lips. 
“C..um, ‘m gonna cum,” you softly whimper while arching into him, “please ‘m so close.” 
You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, he quickly falls into you and rolls his hips into yours over and over again. You trap him against you but Jungkook figures out a way to keep moving. Jungkook grinds into you slowly, letting you feel every inch and the girth. This makes your mouth fall open as a shudder runs through your body. 
“Fuck..” You begin shaking from pleasure, your arms slip from his shoulders but Jungkook simply hoists you upright into his strong big arms. 
You’re caged against his chest while he slowly fucks in and out, you’re so close you just need a tiny little push. If Jungkook could just hit that spot one more time—ohh.. “Jungkook,” you feel a strong tremor pass over you. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, rhythmically clenching and massaging him as you cum all over him and yourself. 
Jungkook doesn’t let up no matter how tight you get, he’s groaning and hissing under his breath while whispering the most filthiest fucking praises, “There you go baby, jus’ like that. Go on and make a mess for me, want you dripping my cum out of that loose cunt of yours.”
He cums a few minutes later with a loud moan, you like the feeling of his throbbing cock buried deep inside as he unloads all his pearly white cum into you. You squirm around a few more times but Jungkook ultimately ends up gripping your hip to stop you, “Shit–don’t do that.” He moans painfully. 
The two of you pant quietly while trying to catch your breaths. It turns into a slow little make out session you can’t refuse or resist because he’s that sexy post orgasm glow. You’re lips-locked when a knock brings the two of you out of whatever world you were both just in. 
You pull back from his lips with a wet noise, panting hard as you try to catch your breath from the brutal fuck just now. “Mrs Gong?” You hear one of your students say. 
Jungkook’s still hazy from his orgasm (evident in the way he looks at you all blissed out), he tucks his face in the crook of your neck and quietly moans when you clench around his half-hard cock. He doesn’t say anything thankfully, “I’ll be right out,” you finally manage to say without sounding like you just ran a marathon. 
This boy was going to be the death of you. 
+
jungkook : get ready, gonna take you out. wear somethin pretty too
You frown in both annoyance and confusion, when and how did Jungkook get your address? “I don’t even wanna know.” You mumble while shaking your head, with Jungkook there’s no limits to his depravity. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had someone paid to get your information. 
You look over at the bedroom door and make sure it’s closed before you sneak to your closet and dial Jungkook, “What the hell do you mean we’re going out?” You mutter while balancing the phone on your shoulder, “I don’t remember little dates being a part of this arrangement.” 
“The tongue you got on you,” Jungkook says from the other line, “makes me wonder if I need to stuff it with somethin’ else damn baby. But we’ll save that for another day, today I wanna take you somewhere nice,” 
You pulled a sweater from a hanger and paused, “Jungkook what’s the dress code?” You sigh in exasperation, all this talking and he still wasn’t telling you anything. You figured you might as well make the best of it, “Hurry up I still have to call my nanny to come take care of my son, I don’t have all day.” 
“Casual, not too casual though. I’ll see you in five.” And with that he hangs up. 
“Great,” you sigh while tossing your phone on the bed after shooting the nanny a quick text, “I’ll see you in five, my ass,” you mimic while finding something nice to wear. 
The door creaks open and your son Jae comes running in making excited airplane noises, “Where you goin’ mama?” He tilts his head, “Are you going to see aunties for lunch? Ooh, can I come, can I come?” He buzzes in excitement while smiling from ear to ear. 
“No baby, mama’s meeting a different friend, a work friend.” You gently correct yourself while surfing through your jeans, “Wanna help me choose an outfit,” you squat to Jae’s level and brush his unruly hair out of his face, “looks like I’m gonna need your eyes for this Jae.” 
His eyes widened comically, “Mama but you have your own!” He gasps while covering his face with his tiny hands, “These are my eyes!” He squeals while running out of the room. 
You grin deviously and chase after him with a “come back here”. The house is filled with your giggles and Jae’s excited yells and laughter, you end up chasing Jae back to your room as the little boy hides himself under the blankets. 
“C’mon, mama wants to look pretty today won’t you help me baby?” You pout while sitting on the bed, “Pretty please with sprinkles and fairies on top?” 
Jae pops his head out with a dramatic little sigh, “Fiinee,” you grin triumphantly, “I’m gonna make you look prettier than any other lady out there today.” He smiles toothlessly and runs into your closet. 
You end up wearing a pair of light-washed jeans and your cream colored sweatshirt. Jae didn’t know anything about shoes so you slipped on your cozy socks and a pair of brown tasman slippers. Upon Jae’s insistence you applied a little mascara and clear gloss over your lips, “There, is mommy done now?” You ask while spraying some body spray he was holding out to you. 
“Done, you look so pretty.” Jae shyly says while hiding his face in your leg, “Is Miss Danielle coming today? I like her a lot, she’s super cool and nice.” 
You hum absent-mindedly while putting your phone and wallet in your purse, “Yes she is, mama needs you to be the bestest boy ever okay? I’ll be back around dinner time when daddy’s coming home okay?” You smile sadly, “I’m gonna miss you.” 
“Me too,” Jae softly says before the doorbell brings him out of his trance, “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” He runs off leaving you to your devices. 
“That boy.” You shake your head and slip your watch on. You can hear Jae talking with Danielle down in the foyer as you finish getting ready. 
Your phone pings and you immediately know who it is, “Danielle,” you greet while passing the girl in a hurry, “thanks for coming last minute you’re a lifesaver.” You sigh in appreciation, “House is yours and if you’re hungry order some delivery for you and Jae okay? I’ll pay you extra if I take too long. If my husband comes home first then you’re free to go.” 
Danielle already has Jae in her arms as she smiles sweetly at you, “No problem, you know I like Jae a lot anyways.” She shrugs, “Have fun.” 
“Oh I will.” You bitterly mutter, “Bye my loves.” You blow a kiss to your son at the door and head out. Jungkook’s Mercedes is parked right in front of your house and you done nearly sprint over in fear. Your heart quite literally almost falls out of your ass. 
“Are you fucking insane?” You spit while slipping into the car, “Jungkook move, oh you just finally fucking lost it didn’t you? Anyone can see you—my neighbors, my son, the nanny!” 
Jungkook laughs quietly and brings you in for a messy smooch, “Calm down, we’re leaving right now.” 
“No, right now.” You glare, “Move.”
Jungkook’s eyes drop down to your lips in obvious hunger, “Give me a kiss.” You look at him in disbelief and he merely shrugs, “What? You heard me.” He’s really not playing around because he doesn’t budge or make a move to shift gears or anything. 
You nervously look around the area before leaning over to quickly kiss him, “There.” 
“Another one.” He calmly replies despite your whining and the face you make. He’s serious then, you think while curling a hand behind the back of his neck and pulling his face closer to yours. 
Your lips meet in a hot kiss, you find yourself putting a little more effort into it than most times he’s kissed you. Jungkook’s a good kisser you won’t lie/deny, if anything you felt shittier for admitting that you enjoyed kisses with him. You gently bite down on his bottom lip in a mix of arousal and curiosity. 
Jungkook lets out a quiet groan and leans more into it to deepen the kiss. “No more,” you whisper when you pull away to catch your breath, “I’m serious.” You softly say albeit a bit more gentle and less hostile. 
“Okay.” He pulls away and starts the car. His hand comes over to settle on your thigh, fitting so easily like you were made for him. 
You slump in your seat and turn your head to watch your home slowly disappear as Jungkook pulls out of the neighborhood. If you look closely though, you won’t miss the awe-struck looking nanny standing there looking from the living room window. 
“Are you okay? What are you looking at?” Jae asks. 
“Nothing,” Danielle mumbles as she shakes her head, “let’s watch tv yeah?” There’s no way she just caught her boss kissing someone who was obviously not her husband. 
.
“How was your day?” You find yourself looking up from the bowl of chips you’re having when Jicheol suddenly talks to you, “Dani told me you had a last minute meeting with a coworker?” He hums while unbuttoning his dress shirt slowly, “y/n?” 
Your focus shifts back onto Jicheol after momentarily spacing out, “It was good,” you mumble and try not to think about earlier when Jungkook was buried balls deep fucking you over the hood of the car, “Had some lunch and then we went for like a nature walk..of some sorts.” You trail off dumbly. 
Jicheol raises a brow, “Some sorts..?” He tilts his head with confusion written all over his face. 
“Fuck, Jungkook!” 
“Right there..!” 
“Mmmh..yes,”
“Com–coming!” 
You freeze mid-chip and peer over at your husband, “Yeah..some sort,” you crack a tiny smile to break the tension, “that’s not important though,” you set the bowl off to the side somewhere, “how was your day?” You smile prettily. 
Jicheol (thankfully) takes the bait, he has a smile painted over his handsome face, “Boring, I had a few meetings here and there and then some paperwork to file.” He sighs heavily and falls dramatically on the bed next to you, “You busy tomorrow?” He quietly asks while poking your side. 
“Depends,” you softly whisper and lean down to press gentle kisses over his lips, “what are we doing?” You blow against his lips gently, cracking a smile when Jicheol hooks a hand around the back of your neck, “Hm?” 
Jicheol doesn’t reply and instead brushes his lips over yours, “C’mere,” he quietly murmurs, “on my lap sweetheart.” You can feel his big hands over the small of your back, he guides you over so that you straddle him. 
You bite your lip and watch Jicheol closely, the excitement builds up quickly because something about your husband drove you wild. Jicheol didn’t even have to try to get you in the mood, god bless for fine men like himself. You lean down to attach your lips to his rather eagerly, if you both could just skip the foreplay—
“Babe,” Jicheol pauses when your phone begins to ring loudly. You let out a deep sigh and hesitantly pull away from him looking mildly annoyed. His sharp eyes stay on you while you reach around for your phone and check who it is. “Who’s calling?”
‘Great’ you think while seeing the caller ID, “No one, probably spam.” You say through gritted teeth while turning your phone off ALL the way, “Don’t worry about it,” you mumble while giving him quick pecks, “ ‘s not important baby.” You run your hands along the planes of his chiseled chest and toned stomach. 
Jicheol uses his hold on you to switch your positions, you giggle up at him when your head lands on the soft pillows, “What’s so funny, hm.” He buries his face in the side of your neck and sucks marks into your unblemished skin. 
Your lips part and you bury your fingers in his hair, “Nothin’,” you lick your lips as you catch your phone from the corner of your eye, “nothing at all.” You say as his lips find yours and the two of you sink into the sheets. 
+
The cold morning air brushes against your cold cheeks fiercely, only fueling your adrenaline to keep jogging despite your lungs begging otherwise. You liked morning jogs a lot, helped clear your mind and get you away from everything for a bit. Besides, the trail you took was local and not many people came out at this hour. 
“Ah shit.” You whisper tiredly while pausing in your tracks to pick up your fallen AirPod. You take a minute to inspect it and clean the earbud of any dirt and grime it might’ve got from the floor. 
You hear footsteps nearby but you assume it’s another runner (while there weren’t many, it wasn’t rare either). You move off the trail to get out of the way when suddenly the steps stop and a strong pair of arms wraps around your middle. You yell out in surprise and turn your head to see who your attacker is. 
“Jungkook..?” You breathlessly ask, “You scared me, what the hell is wrong with you?!” You smack his chest a few times.
Jungkook has this scary look on his face but what’s new? This spoilt brat was always pissy about something so you weren’t phased, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 
“Don’t fuckin’ do that again.” He glares, “You intentionally ignored me for one,” he takes a step forward, “and then two, come to my surprise baby you turned your phone off. The fuck is that about?” He growls. 
You shake your head and sigh in disbelief, “Really? You’re crying about me turning my phone off? So what, am I supposed to ask you for permission now? Can’t even let my phone die without you freaking out?”
Jungkook snatches your wrist and tugs you towards him, “Don’t fucking give me that,” he whispers dangerously low, “I’m not a fucking moron like you think I am.”
“Nobody said that.” You tug on your wrist, “Now let me go, someone’s gonna see you and I have to get back home.” Jungkook’s about to answer when he suddenly pauses, staring at something. You frown in confusion and look, “What?” You follow his eyes and you go still. 
The marks. 
You really done it now. “Jungkook…” You hesitantly meet his eyes and wish you never had. He looks so fucking pissed you don’t know whether to cry or run away. 
The fear kicks in and you take a step back from him. Jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and slowly nods his head, “I see..seems like you were too busy being a little cockslut hangin’ off someone else’s cock. Tell me was it good?” He darkly mumbles, “Did he fuck you better than I did? Did he have your pussy droolin’ and creaming around his cock like you do to mine? He make you scream like I do baby?” He envelops your entire throat in his hand, not gripping but rather just holding you in place. 
“I’ll scream.” You whisper shakily. 
“Go ahead,” Jungkook laughs in your face, “you do it plenty so I don’t see the difference now.” Your face burns with humiliation and you turn your face away from him, “Oh don’t give me that,” he mock-pouts, “c’mon baby look at me.” He grips your cheeks between his fingers as he squeezes them together and makes your pouty lips form a tiny little peak that he smooches. 
“Jungkook please,” you softly whine, “not here, someone’s gonna see.” 
“You’re right,” he mumbles while staring at the dark hickeys Jicheol left on you, “I know a better place.” You follow his eyes and look over to see that he’s set his sights on your home. Immediately you turn to protest but Jungkook lifts a finger over your lips, “Ah-ah, just do as I fuckin’ say.” 
You’re walking on pins and needles right now, today might just be the day your entire world ends up ruined. You can’t help the way your eyes flicker over to the laundry room, the anxiety claws at your insides and you’re desperate for any escape. After Jungkook had demanded you let him into your home things started piling one after the other. 
First it was Jicheol who had decided to come early from work (out of all days you bitterly think), and then you had Danielle over helping with Jae. How the hell are you planning on explaining anything if Jae or Danielle accidentally enter the laundry room and see Jungkook in there? This isn’t a “oh, my mistake” situation, there’s no coming back from this once everything begins to surface.
You shudder just thinking about it, “Danielle–honey, do you mind taking Jae out to the park for a bit? I got a lot on my mind right now and I think I’m gonna just cook dinner or something to get my head out of the clouds. I’d prefer if Jae wasn’t in the house though.”
Danielle stops coloring the page Jae had handed her as she tilts her head up to meet your eyes, “Oh, sure. Do you want me to pack him something or will we be coming back early?” She stands to her feet while dusting off her jeans. 
“Pack a few snacks,” you look over at the closed double doors and nervously bite your lip, “actually here, just take this and bring me back the change—or don’t. Just head out before it gets dark.” You say while ushering her and Jae out. 
Danielle doesn’t comment on your jittery behavior, she simply waves bye and takes the little boy with her down the street to the local park. Now you just have to find a way to keep Jicheol occupied. “Jicheol? Baby do you mind stopping by the store and bringing me a few things?” You loudly call out. 
Jungkook’s long made himself at home in your kitchen, he waves his hand with a teasing smirk on his face. “Fuck you,” you mouth while passing the kitchen to head upstairs where Jicheol was probably at, “Jicheol baby can you run to the store?” You sound out of breath by the time you reach the top, Jicheol’s standing in the doorway in his loungewear. 
“Sure, you got a list or something?” He hums. 
“Uh yeah, I wrote it down but I forgot where I slipped the note. Just go, I’ll send it to you when you’re on your way yeah?” You try to appear as calm as possible but the devil downstairs wouldn’t let you. 
Jicheol looks at you weirdly but ends up nodding anyway, “Okay well, you do that.” He slips past you, “I’ll call you if you don’t send the list by the time I get there.” He begins descending downstairs, “By the way, did the neighbors get a new car? I swear I keep seeing that same Mercedes up and down the street.” 
You freeze in terror and clench your fists tightly, “..Oh really? I didn’t know either,” you slip downstairs and turn the corner to see Jicheol standing in the kitchen while drinking a glass of water you don’t remember seeing him or anyone for that matter set out. 
“Maybe you should get going before it gets late. I kinda need the things for the dinner I’m making.” You nervously smile. 
“You tryin’ to get rid of me now?” Jicheol laughs, “So jittery baby, what’s got you all fired up hm?” He tucks you into his arms and rocks side to side, “Did something happen baby?” He softly says in your ear. 
“No,” you mumble back, “was planning a surprise.” 
Jicheol nods slowly, “Okay, I’ll be back then my love. I can’t wait to see what you got planned.” He winks and parts from you. You close your eyes and wait for Jicheol to leave, you can hear him getting his keys and a few other trinkets of his. Any minute now.. 
. . .
“Jicheol?” You call out when you don’t hear the front door open or close, “Is everything okay?” 
You end up stepping out to go see what was happening, instead you got a fat load of Jungkook carrying your unconscious husband away to the living room, “Jungkook?! What did you do? What the fuck did you do?!” You begin panicking, pacing back and forth throughout the room, “Fucking hell, are you some sort of deranged psycho!” 
“Relax,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I drugged him, well been drugging him with the water I left out.” He snickers and tosses Jicheol over the couch, “Fuck he’s heavy,” he cracks his back and rolls his muscles, “baby, baby,” he raises his hand, “you’re stressin’ me the fuck out with all your walking and pacing.”
 
“Well excuse me, my husband is drugged and passed out in front of me, but sure I’ll keep it down for you Mr Jeon, anything else?” 
Jungkook lazily grins, “You can be as loouuud as you want, I’m not complaining.” He raises his hands in surrender, “But you know what, there is something you can do for me.” He purrs low, “Come here.” 
Your eyes widen knowingly and you shake your head, “No, fuck no. We can go to the room or anywhere but not here—not in front of him.” You hiss. 
“I don’t really give a fuck.” Jungkook tugs you close, “Awake or asleep, I’ll fuck you whenever and however the fuck I want.” His hot breath ghosts over the side of your neck, “I know that deep down—you love this, gettin’ fucked silly in front of your husband, don’t you wanna show him how well you take my cock?” He whispers. 
Your eyes slip shut in both arousal and horror, “No.” 
“Liar.” Jungkook bites down on your earlobe teasingly, “Explain this,” he suddenly thrusts a hand into your sweatpants. His cold fingers cup you through your panties, heavy palm sitting right under your pulsing heat. “Hm?” 
“J-Jungkook, no,” you fight against his grip and squirm around, “listen to me dammit!” You sob in frustration as all the fight begins to slowly leave your body, ending with you melting into a mush of goo. 
Jungkook coos softly, “Baby needs a cock in her? Is that it?” He cages you in between him and the coffee table the back of your knees bumps into, “C’mon tell me, you know I like hearing filthy things leave that pretty little mouth.” He tilts you by the chin to face him, “Look at me,” he patiently hums. 
Your eyes flutter open to the bleary sight of Jungkook, “Just get it over with,” you blink tears away, “please Jungkook.” 
He doesn’t say anything when he slides his lips on yours, his hand cups the side of your face to hold you perfectly still and pliant in his hands. Your face scrunches cutely and you find yourself trying to guide him away from the living room with hands over his abdomen. However a frown makes its way to your face when you notice he doesn’t budge. 
“We’re not going anywhere sweetheart,” he calmly says after pulling apart with a string of spit connecting your messy lips, “but you already knew that, why play dumb?” He talks to you like he’s talking to a child. 
You make a noise of protest but it dies down when Jungkook begins moving. He guides you over to the armrest of the sofa Jicheol’s passed out on. Your heart slams in your chest violently like it’s about to burst. Jicheol’s sleeping face is centimeters away from yours making it all the more horrifying.
 
Jungkook steps behind your bent form, he runs his hands over your sides and thighs with a pleased sigh. He slips his hands into your sweats, taking his sweet time in massaging your hips and the swells of your ass cheeks. You end up biting your lip and trying not to squirm away from his unwanted touches. 
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath when he tugs your sweatpants down and sees the pretty undies you had on under, “well happy fuckin’ birthday to me.” He whistles and runs his palm over the waistband, hooking his fingers in and pulling until the band snapped back in place. 
You yelped and jolted from the stinging sensation you felt in your hip, he finally decided to grant some mercy and tugged the panties down your thighs. They dropped around your ankles alongside your sweatpants leaving your cunt out in the open for Jungkook. By now you’re sure some wetness had built up between your sticky dewy folds, they felt moist and drenched. 
“Such a little liar,” he smacks your drooling cunt, sending you reeling over the couch with a cry of shock. Your face is dangerously close to Jicheol’s, you catch yourself from letting out another yell when Jungkook spanks you again. The pain sparks a heat inside of you. 
“If I woulda known this slutty cunt drips at the thought of being fucked infront of your husband, I would’ve fucked you a long time ago baby.” He chuckles breathily and rubs over your tender pussy. You moan in protest from the “soothing” touch, he has to give you a warning pinch when your squirming becomes tedious, “Behave.”
Jungkook slips his fingers between your folds, parting them in a ‘v’ as he strokes over your entire pussy. A delicious shiver passes over you when his fingers brush over your slippery clit. The touch is enough to make your swollen bud throb with anticipation and need. You bite a whiny moan and let your head hang in slight disappointment. Jungkook isn’t deterred though, he keeps brushing over your clit never quite touching it. 
“Drippin’ already.” Jungkook murmurs while burying his face in your neck, “head up baby, want him to see the slutty little faces you make while getting fucked stupid.” He shallowly dips his fingers into your sopping hole with a lewd squelch. “Hear that?” He purrs low, “filthy already.” 
Your face grows hot with shame but Jungkook doesn’t stop swirling his fingertip around, he wipes his finger clean in your inner thigh, leaving behind a dollop of slick smeared all over. He shuffles behind you until the head of his weeping cock slides through the mess between your legs. His cock comes poking out through your thighs as he slips himself between your squishy wet folds. 
He slowly rolls his hips and lets his cock slide over your mound again and again. The underside of his shaft rubs against your clit giving it the much needed friction you were craving. “Mmh,” your thighs squeeze together and you push your hips back, plush ass meeting his pelvis with a messy smack. 
“Needy little thing,” Jungkook muses and steers you forward with a hand over your back, “gonna fuck it out of you though—he may have married you but this cunt still belongs to me at the end of the day.” He suddenly slams his hips forward, instantly filling you with a loud splat as his balls collide with your folds, “Mine to fuck, mine to breed, mine to claim.” He groans. 
Your mouth falls open and you shudder, his cock from this angle somehow makes you feel fuller and more stretched out. Your rim hugs his cunt tightly and you can feel the slight tug on your perineum when he backstrokes. Another lewd “uhn” leaves you when he drives his cock right back in, the tip pokes your cervix but it’s nothing too serious or painful. 
“Let me hear you,” Jungkook bites his lower lip and rolls his hips faster, “let your husband hear how you—really—like to get fucked.” He huffs under his breath and brings the hem of his shirt up to his mouth, biting it so he can see his cock disappear into your ruined cunt over and over. 
Your ass ripples with every thrust and there’s a low smacking noise, he’s punching more and more moans from your throat. It’s harder to keep them in when he’s rubbing those spots so good. His cock bumps into your g-spot occasionally but Jungkook wants to drag it out so he doesn’t hit it yet. Your pussy clenches around him drawing a hiss from him as his fingertips dig into your hips. 
Jungkook slams forward and sends you toppling over the armrest a little with your feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You’re jostled closer to Jicheol and hold back a terrified scream you almost let out. Jungkook’s losing control and the pace is sending you flying towards your husband, one wrong move and you’re going to topple on top of Jicheol.
“J-Jungkook slow down,” you mewl, “ ‘m gonna fall..!” You gasp, he hits your g-spot head on with vigor. When he sees the tremor that wracks your smaller frame he starts pounding into that spot wildly. 
Your cries are clear as day, the wet smacking is thundering and the couch rattles loudly over the wooden flooring. You scramble to find a good grip to keep yourself steady while you get the pounding of a lifetime. His vicious thrusts send you forward but his firm grip keeps you speared right on his cock. You chant Jungkook’s name which only spurs him on as he fucks you like a madman. 
Jungkook lets the hem of his shirt go and trails a hand up to twist in your hair, “Fuckin’ slut—pussy’s mine ‘n mine only. Let’s leave him a nice little present for when he wakes up baby, yeah? Gonna fuck this slutty pussy on him even with my cum dripping from it? Least you’ll be all loose ‘n wet for him,” he smirks, “you’d like that wouldn’t you? Maybe we should let him join next time, we’ll fuck all your little holes and keep ‘em filled with our cock.”
You shamelessly moan at that and tilt your head back for him without having to be asked. He lets out a pleased moan and leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, “One cock not enough anymore?” He rubs your ass with his other hand and lands a hard slap over it, “Hm?” 
“N-No,” you hiccup with teary eyes, “need t-to cum,” you gasp, “soo close..mmh..” 
“Cum,” Jungkook whispers, “go on,” he brings a hand down between your sticky thighs and smacks your clit with two fingers. 
The sting sends you over the edge with a loud cry spilling from your lips. You shake from the intensity and slump over with a tired moan. Jungkook doesn’t care that you came already because he keeps pumping his cock in and out of your, using your cunt for his pleasure. 
He yanks you back like a ragdoll and wraps his hand around your throat tightly, “Next time think twice about lettin’ him mark you,” he growls in your ear, “or else drugging won’t be the thing I do.” He lets you go carelessly and grinds his cock deep, pelvis pressed tightly to your ass. 
Your lips part silently in a ‘o’ as you shudder, a mini-orgasm takes you by surprise and you’d rather not think it’s because of what he said just now.. Surely not right? Right.. 
Jungkook moans softly as your pussy hugs his cock nice and snug. He fills you spurt after spurt with cum, not bothering to pull out right away. In fact he grinds his hips in tiny motions to milk his orgasm out, sighs of relief slipping from his lips. The room feels hot and you’re pretty sure the stench of sweat and sex is pungent in the air.  
“Jungkook,” you shakily murmur while pushing back, “c’mon, it’s not funny anymore let me up.” You softly plead while looking back at him with wide glossed over puppy eyes. 
Clean-up is a quiet ordeal, Jungkook looks smug when you pass by with shaky legs. He doesn’t miss the chance to smack your ass, to which you fiercely glare at him as you disappear to quickly change. When you emerge in a comfy home outfit you stand in the doorway pointing to the front door. 
“Out.” You glare, “Not in my house Jungkook, this is the first and last time we do this. You hear me?” You’re not entirely sure he’s listening but you say it anyway. This was not only risky as hell but stupid too, everything was at stake (even if the adrenaline was crazy). 
“Kiss,” Jungkook mumbles with a grin as he finishes slipping his coat back on, “c’mon before I go baby.”
You stare at him unimpressed and walk over to press a gentle kiss over his lips. Of course he wraps his hands around your waist and tugs you closer to him, kissing Jungkook was never a quick ordeal. Nothing was ever quick with him. “Okay,” you push at his chest gently, “enough. My kid and nanny are coming home any minute now, get out.” You huff. 
“Yeah, yeah, you weren’t saying that when I fucked your brains out–” His laugh is cut off when he pauses to stare down the hall in amusement, “Looks like we have a audience baby.” He grins. 
Your head whips to see Danielle standing in the kitchen doorway, she looks shocked and disturbed. Jae’s nowhere insight but your heart still drops to your ass, “D-Danielle.” You’re going to fucking lose it right now. 
She takes a step back and looks at Jungkook with both fear and nervousness, “T-The front door was l-locked so we came through the  b-back.” 
“Dani–honey wait,” you stretch your hand out to her but she’s already running. You can hear Jae in the pantry loudly asking where the applesauce pouches are at. You look at Jungkook with fear in your eyes, “Jungkook—s-she..s-she knows!” You quiver and hold back a sob. 
Jungkook cups your face in his hands, “Don’t cry sweetheart, I’ll fix it yeah?” He hums, “Don’t worry that pretty little head, everything’s gonna be fine.” He kisses your cheeks and wipes your tears with his thumbs, “Smile for me—yeahhh, there you go pretty girl.” He grins, “I’ll handle it.” 
+
Jungkook blows the smoke out from his lips, he crushes the cigarette under his boot and clicks his tongue in annoyance, “Shit,” he mutters and digs around his pocket for his phone, “hello?” He answers with his head tilted back as he watches the tiny snowflakes fall around him. 
“Did you handle it?” 
“I did,” Jungkook chuckles, “what, not gonna ask if I’m tired? It was a lot of work baby, don’t you think I deserve a present?” His eyes flicker down briefly but he goes back to snow watching. 
“...Thank you.” 
“Oh you will be thanking me later, but for now I got a lot of things to attend to so I’ll see you around baby. Don’t get too comfy, I was thinking about heading to London just the two of us. I’m sure that pretty brain of yours can come up with somethin’ to tell him, bye baby.” He smirks and hangs up before you can get a word in. 
He stands in silence just staring at the lump in front of him. “Poor kid, shit luck and shit life.” He grunts and lights another cigarette, “..Gotta get the cleaners ‘n shit—fuck it’s a mess.” He sighs and dials another number, “Hello?” He loudly says, “Round up the cleaning team—no it’s only one, might be two but for today it’s one. Teen, the baby-sitter.” He nudges his foot against the stiff limbs laying in the snow. 
“I’ll triple the payment if you help me eliminate a certain someone..yeah, spring cleaning. Oh, and don’t tell father about this. He’ll be real sad to know it happened..again..”
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TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore
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lovelyhan · 26 days
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— melting point ⟢
rumor has it that icy department head of pledis insurance has something going on with her loyal secretary, wonwoo. well, she does—it's just not the kind of behind-closed-doors business one would expect for them to partake in.
★ FEATURING; secretary!wonwoo x afab!oc
★ WORD COUNT; 12.3k words
★ TAGS; coworkers to lovers, revenge fic, angst, smut
★ WARNINGS; blackmailing, manipulation, mentions of past bullying, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)
★ NOTES; hi... it's been forever, hasn't it? i missed tumblr a lot, and have decided to grace the tags with this fic after months of radio silence heheh ! this was a commissioned piece on twt which i tweaked to fit my tumblr audience better! cheers to 5k followers even in my absence t__t you guys are the best!
★ PS; i'm sorry i can't be bothered to dig up my taglist and tag those who filled it up T T
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There’s a saying in PLEDIS Insurance that goes: enjoy your coffee early because once the Ice Queen is in, it’ll turn just as cold as she is. 
Of course, the words were merely thrown around in jest. Something that bored employees come up with in the break room whenever they’re careless enough to think their little jokes won’t reach said ice queen’s ears. But still—they’re just jokes. As long as they worked enough to satisfy their salaries’ worth, Emma the Ice Queen would always turn a blind eye. She might be cold, but she isn’t completely heartless.
Most of the time.
“Good morning, ma’am,” her secretary, Wonwoo, greeted with a curt nod as she entered her office. 
Emma scoffed before setting her things down on her work desk, the frown on her face only worsening when she sees the elegantly wrapped gift box in front of her. “What's this?” 
Wonwoo swallowed thickly, like he was nervous. Wonwoo never gets nervous.
“We have an...unforeseen circumstance,” he prefaced before tapping away on the iPad in his arms. “Sir Leo from the Choi group wants to pursue you.”
“Unforeseen?” Emma repeated. “Wonwoo, this is completely foreseen. Isn't it our from the start is to make them fall in love, only for us to expose their dirty secrets in the end?”
He looked as if he wanted to agree. But after turning the screen of his iPad so Emma could see the article written on some shoddy newsletter, her brows furrowed together in confusion.
A Race for the Inheritance: How the Choi Group’s Next Generation of Ambitious Youngbloods Will Do Everything to Get Their Fill of Old Money. 
The title itself didn’t give Emma much context of what exactly was making Wonwoo—her ever-composed secretary—lose his composure. It’s natural to see the sons and daughters of a powerful business conglomerate fight each other for their rights to the family inheritance. But after reading through what the rest of the article had to offer, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly started to fit.
“They're seeing who gets to get married first?” Emma laughed incredulously before handing the iPad back to Wonwoo. “Does Leo really think he can get me to become his lover—even more so his wife—after everything he did to me in high school?”
Wonwoo breathed in deeply. “Miss Emma, we both know the answer to that. If it were all up to you, you could easily put him to shame and reject him. But his interests somewhat align with the director’s interests as well…”
Ah. Her father’s interests.
“No,” she answered sharply. “Even if he kicks me out of my position, I’m not going to be wed to that prick.”
“Are you sure about that?” Wonwoo sighed before adjusting his glasses. “Miss Emma, we both know you love your work more than anything. And you're chronically attached to this company even if you despise the executives. Sir Leo has good leverage over you, sad to say.”
There was something irritating about hearing Wonwoo call his ex-best friend Sir, as if he was underneath some scumbag of a human being like Leo. But then again, years have passed since then. Lots of things have changed. 
But Emma’s grudges hold steadfast, still.
“Hmph, whatever.” She dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave before unwrapping the gift box in front of her. “Was this from Leo, too? Is he on a deadline or something?”
“Hmm, first one that gets married before December gets the rights to the inheritance,” Wonwoo informed her as he picked the clutter of ribbons off Emma’s desk and pocketed them in his coat for later disposal. “Do you want me to look up the progress of his siblings and cousins? We can sabotage him while it's still early.”
Emma didn’t respond right away—preoccupied with unwrapping Leo's so-called gift. But when she sees a red velvet box with an engagement ring and a folded letter inside, she begrudgingly realized that Leo wouldn’t be as easy a target as her other high school bullies.
No, this man really was rotten to the core.
By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you already heard the news. You know what to do, right, Emma?
Or should I say, wifey? ;)
“Send this back to him. Now.”
Wonwoo nodded obediently as Emma pushed Leo's cursed gift box away from her. “Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Like…have someone plant a snake in his bedroom or something?”
Despite the sour mood that Leo undoubtedly put her in this morning, Wonwoo's little idea of a joke made the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. The offer was tempting, but in the end, she shook her head and booted up the PC on her desk instead.
“As much as I want his death by a snake bite to headline the news, Leo doesn’t deserve to get out of this the easy way.” Emma muttered as she started browsing through the hard-drive she’d hooked up onto the computer. “And lucky for us, I finally got the evidence to send his suspiciously prosperous career down into a spiral.”
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow before taking a peek behind her. “What's that? Money laundering records? Tax fraud?” 
No. It was really something as simple as—
“Footage of a mass orgy he participated in,” Emma casually told her secretary as she clicked on the only video on the hard drive. “Might not look like a big deal compared to what we had to go through with Ezra, but Leo belongs to a family of devout Catholics. Good thing your contact from Leo's favorite bar had some use. All I did was ask around and he quickly spilled all the details with the right amount of money.”
Wonwoo chuckled as he flashed her an impressed look. “As far as I know, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the dirty work for you. Why are you directly involving yourself in matters you can leave to me?” 
The lewd video continued to play on her screen—muted, of course—and one could easily make out Leo Choi's face amongst the crowd of sex-depraved freaks. Once they sent this over anonymously to each and every person who might think that scumbag deserved to inherit his family’s wealth, it would be all over for him.
“‘Cause we’re a team, Wonwoo,” she chuckled. “You’ve done your fair share of work when we took down Gavin and Ezra. But admittedly…I've got more bones to pick with Leo. I think it’s only fair for me to orchestrate his downfall with my own two hands.”
“Right…” Wonwoo agreed with a hint of fondness in his tone that completely went over Emma’s head—far too triumphant with her newfound ammunition. 
“We’re a team.”
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But it wasn’t always that way.
Wonwoo was actually more deeply involved in Emma’s mission to exact revenge on the people who’ve wronged her years ago than one would otherwise expect. He’d been best friends with Leo since they were kids, and when they eventually met Gavin and Ezra in their high school basketball team, the four of them were quite inseparable. 
But despite being his best friend, Wonwoo knew that Leo could be quite…off-putting with his behavior sometimes.
“Hey, look at that,” Sixteen year-old Leo scoffed before gesturing towards the loud girl earning amused stares in the cafeteria. “She's so fucking loud. Is she the new transfer student?”
Gavin snickered as he took a bite out of his lunch. “How'd she even get in here? Our tuition isn't a joke, and she doesn't really look like she can afford it. The kid of a maid, maybe?”
“Or she could be one of those financial scholarship kids,” Ezra pitched in with a shrug. “Though she doesn't look very bright if we're being honest.”
Wonwoo didn’t offer anything to the conversation, merely eating his food quietly as his friends talked smack about the new transfer student in their class. Emma Rodriguez was like a piece of meat thrown into a pit of vipers. Some might like her—like the classmates who were howling with laughter because of her antics—but others looked at her with disdain. 
She didn’t belong to any wealthy well-known families like every other kid in their grade. The girl simply popped out of nowhere like an eyesore, according to Leo. Wonwoo didn’t really mind her presence though. She made the boring monotone of his school days a bit more bearable with her energy.
But what Wonwoo thought was just his friends’ surface-level dislike for a girl who behaved differently from the others in their grade turned out to be something else.
Something worse.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew what bullying was, and was well-aware that what his friends constantly did to Emma wasn’t something that normal high schoolers did. Leo was the most vicious about it, and Wonwoo never really got to know his reasons for doing all those horrible things. 
But whenever they spotted Emma horsing around in the hallways, Leo would always be the first one to come up to her—calling her names like fraud, gold digger, and the like. Gavin and Ezra followed each and every time, and they were usually the ones who pushed her around for no real reason.
And Wonwoo? Wonwoo was the one who always stood a few feet away every time his friends decided they were in the mood to pick on the transfer student. The one who always stayed quiet and pretended nothing unsightly was happening in front of him.
The one whose gaze Emma always tried to silently catch, hoping he’d be the one to stop his friends from harassing her. 
But he never did.
That cycle of three boys bullying a once bright and bubbly transfer student became commonplace. Before their third year in high school came to a close, Emma suddenly vanished off the radar. She didn’t attend their classes, nor was she there in the completion ceremonies at the end of every school year. 
Most of the kids around Wonwoo didn’t really give two shits about her sudden disappearance. Word around the street was that she transferred out because of the heavy harassment she was getting, not just from his friends, but also the rest of the students from their grade. They didn’t think Emma was funny because of her silly antics and loud jokes anymore.
Everyone started to collectively think of her as a nuisance, and the fact that she had no familial connections to protect herself with only fed into the senseless yet oh-so popular trend of crushing Emma Rodriguez’s hopes and dreams into the ground.
It was almost like Wonwoo was the only person in their entire grade who felt the tiniest bit of pity for her. But he told himself long ago that someone like him had no right to feel sorry for someone he never bothered trying to help. 
The years passed by in a flash. After Emma’s disappearance, Wonwoo quit the basketball team and  completely cut off his friends and everyone else who actively hurt her. He didn’t really know why either—all he knew was that he couldn’t stomach the idea of keeping those connections despite what they drove Emma to do. 
Of course, he knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. But it wasn’t too late to be a decent person, right?
Wonwoo simply went through the motions of graduating high school, then college, before pursuing a career in the vicious world of the corporate hierarchy. But instead of gunning for executive positions like his fellow fresh grads dared to dream, he worked his way up without using his family’s prestige to his own advantage. 
In fact, Wonwoo realized he liked working closely with his bosses. That’s why he became the designated secretary to all the finance department heads who walked through the doors of PLEDIS Insurance. He was content with being a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy who’s at the beck and call of someone else—a tool who worked on the sidelines. He never really wanted to be the face of any company anyway.
But then, in his fifth year on the job, he was told that there were a couple of changes in PLEDIS’ executive board. The boss he’d been working under was set to retire and he’d be replaced with a new one—someone younger and full of promise, as the head of human resources dramatically explained to him. 
It wasn’t really a deal breaker or anything. As long as Wonwoo got paid, he’d gladly work for even the most terrible of people in this industry.
But on the day his new boss was set to start, he was haunted by a ghost from the past instead.
Wonwoo hasn’t spared a single thought for Emma Rodriguez in God knows how long. Yet the moment she stepped into the office, he recognized her almost immediately. There was no trace of that girl people called gold digger and other derogatory names because of her appearance. This was a woman with her head held high—someone who oozed confidence in every stride with a gaze sharper than her winged eyeliner. 
Yet Wonwoo couldn’t be mistaken. This really was Emma Rodriguez.
He wondered if she remembered him, too. The boy who kept quiet about those who bullied her in those few crucial years of her life. Wonwoo even considered apologizing for not doing anything to help her when he should have. 
“Ah, Wonwoo Jeon?” Emma repeated his name with a dismissive air, almost like she was wholly uninterested in him. “The one who just watched when Gavin Kim pushed me in the muddy courtyard at school? The one who pretended not to see when Leo Choi splashed paint all over my uniform? Of course I remember you.”
God. Was this her exacting retribution?
For the next few days since she came into the office, Wonwoo helped Emma get used to the feel of things in the Finance Department. At least, that was his intention. 
From the looks of it, Emma already knew the ins-and-outs of managing a company’s cash inflow and outflow, as well as the other gritty, more technical details that came with accounting for each and every cent. She managed to prepare and present several sets of data that his previous boss had trouble organizing to the current board of directors within two days’ time. 
Her work ethic was admirable—she got the job done quickly and efficiently, and that made her earn the respect of her subordinates faster than Wonwoo had seen them warm up to their previous bosses. It would have been the perfect relationship between the new department head and her employees, if it weren’t for Emma’s stone cold behavior towards other people. 
Not only did she look different from the Emma he knew in high school, but she acted differently too. Wonwoo couldn’t picture this Emma purposely making a fool out of herself just to make the people around her laugh. This Emma wanted the entire team to get the work handed to them done as soon as possible, and if they did, the most they’d receive in return is a mere nod in approval and nothing else.
It was for that reason that employees would start calling her the Ice Queen. Though she wasn’t some tyrant that gave people an unreasonable workload—she was actually very lenient and fair about the division of tasks—her people skills needed a little work. 
That or Emma was purposely shutting everyone out with her chilly attitude. 
Wonwoo had a few clues as to why she’d want to do that, but he’s a secretary, not a therapist. The only thing he could do about it was to keep his silence.
But then came a day when Emma asked him to come into her office to do something he completely expected from her but didn’t at the same time.
“Are you still in touch with Leo, Gavin, and Ezra?” she asked him, not even bothering to look up from the report she’s reading off her PC.
The question caught Wonwoo off-guard and it was obvious Emma caught on to his reaction if the tiny smirk that curved across her lips was anything to go by. Still, he took it in stride—breathing in through his nose as he thought about his answer.
He hasn’t been in touch with any of them since his high school graduation. All their attempts at reaching out to Wonwoo to invite him for a quick game of ball or a round of drinks somewhere in the city were all ignored. Not even turned down—ignored. 
Leo was the most persistent about it. After all, they were best friends. But after several years of Wonwoo not even bothering to give their invites a single glance, Leo stopped reaching out altogether. Wonwoo's life became a lot more peaceful since he cut ties with them, and he never really regretted the decision to do so. 
But perhaps the universe really was telling him to pay the price for his past inaction now that Emma was bringing up the past on a regular Wednesday afternoon. 
“No, ma’am,” he told her honestly. “Do you want me to reach out to them? Their contact details are pretty easy to get our hands on.”
Emma sighed quietly before meeting his gaze, an unreadable look hovering across her face. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d like that. But aren't you going to ask why I want to contact them again?”
He wanted to, but Wonwoo learned that in his line of work, the last thing he should do was ask questions. It made him wonder if Emma was purposely setting him up on some sort of conversational bear trap, but seeing as he didn’t really have anything to lose by giving, he chose to relent. 
“...Why?”
The silence of her office rang in his ears as Emma typed away on her keyboard. It was a mechanical one with tactile switches that matched the color of her desktop wallpaper. He didn’t take her to be someone who cared enough about aesthetics to that degree, but then again, Wonwoo never really got a chance to get to know her back then. 
He was too much of a coward to do so.
Once she was done, Emma got up from her ergonomic chair (which also matched her desktop setup), leveling her gaze with Wonwoo's even if the latter was easily a head taller than she was. Something about the glint in her eyes made him swallow the lump in his throat. Not to mention that sweet yet chilly smile that graced her bright red lips.
“It’s really simple, Wonwoo,” she told him with a laugh. 
“I want revenge.” 
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And that’s how their little team was formed.
It was a two-person job. Emma entrusted Wonwoo with digging up the information she needed about the three men she wanted to bring down, all while she was in charge of putting their plans into motion by heading over to the front lines. 
Gavin was an easy target. Unlike the other two, he’s the only one who pursued professional basketball and for a while, he amassed quite the number of fans and admirers because of his outstanding plays. What’s more was that he managed to wife up a beauty queen who’s already conquered the international stage a few years back. Now with their first baby on the way, one would think that Gavin Kim has a picture perfect life.
But further down the road, talk about how he’s actually a womanizing wife beater started to seep out of the cracks and crevices of the athletic industry. The allegations were serious, but no one really bothered batting an eye. It’s normal. Lots of athletes are like that. We can't do anything about it.
It was easy to get a hold of which gym Gavin frequents to maintain his physique. He preferred working out in public facilities instead of the one provided for his team because it gave him all the freedom to ogle and flirt with other women who just happened to be hitting the gym on days he was on the prowl. 
Wonwoo even added a little footnote in the file he prepared that said likes to engage in post-workout coitus in the shower rooms. Emma rolled her eyes in disgust when she read it, but made sure to keep it in mind.
The day finally came when she’d collect enough evidence to ruin Gavin’s career. Emma hasn’t dropped by the gym in a while—work having sapped her energy too much to let her psych herself back into working out. But she realized she didn’t have to act out too much because the moment she started operating the treadmill right next to Gavin’s, he was already checking her out.
He didn’t seem to recognize who she was, unlike Wonwoo. But then again Gavin was easily the stupidest out of her trio of high school bullies. This man was all brawn and no brains, which was why it was all too easy for Emma to seduce him in the showers of this shoddy gym not thirty minutes since she’d arrived.
It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The last thing Emma wanted was to have this idiotic man inside of her so she offered to go on her knees and blow him instead—something that Gavin was all too happy to relent to. 
He didn’t even boast a cock of considerable size. It probably wasn’t any longer than her middle finger, and for a split second, she wondered why his beauty queen wife stayed with him despite having a cock that didn’t back up his cocky attitude. It was probably the money.
Emma didn’t waste much time though. Wonwoo visited this gym only a few hours prior to plant a bug somewhere inside the specific shower stall they were currently occupying. She just had to hope she and Gavin were positioned well enough so the camera would get a full view of what they were doing. 
It was the longest twenty minutes of Emma’s life, and she had to go home right away to disinfect her mouth about ten times, but hey. All in the name of vengeance, right?
At around eight in the evening on that same Saturday, her phone lit up with an email notification from Wonwoo. 
From: Wonwoo Jeon  Subject: CLASSIFIED Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well. I retrieved our bug from the gym earlier today and extracted the videos taken before properly disposing of it. Attached to this email is the MP4 file of our evidence against Mr. Gavin Kim. Around the time this message arrives to you, I have simultaneously sent said evidence to Mr. Kim’s managers, sponsors, teammates, other colleagues, and of course, his wife.  The only difference between their emails and yours is that this is a self-destructing message. Once you’ve closed this window, it will be deleted from your inbox without a trace. So if you are interested in watching the video below, best save it to your device of choice for better perusal. If you have any further questions and concerns, I am merely a text message away.  Regards,  Wonwoo Jeon Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department PLEDIS Insurance 
Like hell she was going to watch it.
The moment Emma finished reading through Wonwoo's overly formal email, she quickly exited the window and, true to his word, the message itself had disappeared. Despite being a fairly new player to the game, she had to commend all the precautions Wonwoo was setting to make sure her plans were a success. 
It made her wonder if his previous bosses have also asked him to do shady things under the company’s nose in the past. Whether or not that's true, she was reaping the benefits of his expertise, so she had no room for complaints. 
As long as she had Wonwoo, she’d get to punish everyone who wronged her without fail.
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Gavin’s downfall followed soon after. 
Tabloids were their best friend in that scenario. The thumbnail of the video that Wonwoo spread around like some virus that wouldn’t stop replicating headlined every single paper, talking about how one of the most promising basketball stars of their generation had fallen prey to his own vices.
It was a good thing that not only was Wonwoo careful enough to not leave digital footprints as he sent out those emails, but he also edited the video to keep Emma’s identity a secret. As Gavin’s world started to crumble before his eyes—him being kicked off the starting roster of the team, his wife leaving him behind, and the public execution of his reputation—Emma simply shared a bottle of aged wine from Tuscany with the man who helped her pull off a wonderful performance.
“You’re not too bad,” she mused as she took a small sip, crossing her legs from where she’s seated unceremoniously on the edge of her desk. “You're surprisingly more on-board with this plan than I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were never friends with Gavin in the first place.” 
Wonwoo retained his stoic demeanor, not having touched the glass Emma offered him simply because it was against company regulations to intoxicate himself on the job. “If my boss tells me to ruin someone's life, I'm mandated to do it. I’m just doing what’s written on my job description, ma’am.”
Emma’s lips stretched into a grin as she threw her head back with a laugh. She leaned in closer to Wonwoo, who seemed wholly unfazed by the fact that the gesture granted him an ample view of her cleavage through her blouse. 
“Does your job description cover watching and editing your boss' sex scandal so you can mass send it to hundreds of people?” She giggled before leaning back to take another sip of her drink. “You’re in the green for now, Wonwoo. Keep it up and I might just have a pay raise arranged for you with HR if our next escapade is a success.”
He hummed in understanding. “Who’s next?”
In usual Emma fashion, she didn’t give him a straight answer right away. Instead, she hopped back to the carpeted floor of her office—not even wobbling in those thin heels she’s wearing—before rounding her desk to access her computer. 
“Have you been watching TV lately? Primetime soap operas?” she asked him as she clicked away on her screen. 
Wonwoo shook his head. “They don’t really interest me, ma’am.”
“I figured they wouldn’t. But this might.”
Emma gestured for him to peer at her monitor and Wonwoo wordlessly followed suit, getting up from his seat and standing behind her. Flashed on the screen was an article from a more reputable news outlet that featured two co-stars who played the main couple in a popular network’s newest drama. 
“Ezra Lee and Alaina Park…” Wonwoo muttered under his breath before his eyes flickered to Emma. “You have any leads I can work with?”
His boss chuckled before looking up at him with an expectant smile. “Someone's determined. I never thought I’d get to see someone so eager to do the dirty work for me.”
Wonwoo shrugged. “Miss Emma, I'm not sure if you're aware but desk work gets boring sometimes. You’re right. This is a lot more interesting.”
“Alright, then,” Emma chuckled before retrieving both of their wine glasses and handing Wonwoo's back to him. “Unlike Gavin, I don't have a lot of surface-level leads with Ezra. He’s a celebrity—their reputation needs to be squeaky clean, so it makes sense why I can’t dig up anything about him through regular means. But this should be a piece of cake for you, right?”
Wonwoo stared at the bright red liquor inside the expensive glass, gaze darting to the wicked smile playing on Emma’s lips. If he looked a little closer, he would be able to tell that the shade of her lipstick matches the color of the liquor in her hands. 
He took it from her grasp with a sigh, clinking the edges of their glasses together before downing the entire thing in one fell swoop. The wine was aged well, and had somewhat of a sweet aftertaste, but despite the appealing flavor, Wonwoo reminded himself to never drink on the job ever again. 
“I’ll get back to you once I have the information you need.”
Wonwoo swiftly left Emma’s office after that little victory party. Even with his new sideline of being his boss’s lead henchman, he still had a lot of work to do for PLEDIS Insurance. And that included telling the other employees to quit horsing around in the break room when their designated lunch break ended hours ago.
“Sir Wonwoo,” one of said employees, Soonyoung, snickered before throwing an arm over Wonwoo's shoulders. “You've been hanging out in Miss Emma's office pretty frequently. Is there something going on? You became close real quickly.”
“Yeah” said one Seokmin, who’s still snacking on a wafer despite Wonwoo's scolding. “Boss, we know you're not the fuck-your-way-up kind of guy, but who knows, right? But with your position right now, do you really need it?”
Seungkwan, the last member of their unruly trio, slapped Seokmin’s arm with a scowl. “Hey! Do you really have to say it to his face? Oh, boss, if you make a report about these two, please know I have nothing to do with whatever they're saying.”
Soonyoung snickered. “Are you sure about that? Weren't you the one who first noticed that Sir Wonwoo was stepping inside Miss Emma's office more frequently—”
“Hey! Boss told us to scram, didn't he?! Let's go.”
Seungkwan quickly ushered his two friends out of the break room, scolding them in a hushed tone before they all went back to their respective cubicles. Wonwoo shook his head with a sigh, muttering something about inevitable rumors as he made himself a cup of coffee.
Was that how they perceived Wonwoo’s sudden closeness with the department head? That he was fucking Emma in the solitude of her office? Well, the idea of a boss having illicit relations with their secretary wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s heard about how the head of the Advertising Department gets frisky with his secretary through the corporate grapevine. But just because it was a popular trope among the employees’ strange fantasies, it didn’t mean it applied to himself and Emma as well.
They were strictly professional: he did the dirty work and she paid him in full. That was all there was to it.
(But what people don’t know was that editing Gavin’s scandal wasn’t exactly the walk in the park Emma thought it was.
Despite being one of the most indifferent people in the company, Wonwoo was still a man. Seeing his boss, whose body would be coveted by anyone who dared to want her, in such a compromising position excited an…unexpected physiological reaction out of him.
His resolve was as sturdy as steel, however. Instead of taking care of the obvious problem in his pants as he edited the scandalous video, Wonwoo dealt with it by taking a long, cold shower until all the blood that rushed down south started circulating properly again.
He told himself not to think about it come morning.)
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“A drug den?”
Even Emma was baffled by the news that Wonwoo brought her the following week—a scowl of disbelief permanently etched on her face as she scanned the file her secretary prepared for her. Wonwoo merely stood at her side, waiting for her to finish going through the data he’s gathered. 
And he sure hoped she understood every single word printed on it. He practically risked his life trying to investigate Ezra’s secret business. No wonder it was so hard to dig up any dirt on him—dead men tell no tales after all.
“This is…” Emma swallowed thickly before continuing, “way above my expectations. If he was just getting faded on his own with a private dealer, I'd understand. Lots of celebrities do recreational drugs. But for him to head an entire operation? Where'd he find the time on top of his taping schedules?” 
Wonwoo sighed. “I would’ve been able to investigate further if his men weren't so meticulous. They're fiercely loyal to Ezra. Couldn’t bribe him like we did with Gavin’s gym coach.” 
“And you made sure to keep your identity under lockdown?”
“Positive.”
Emma drummed her fingers across the smooth surface of her work desk—brows furrowed as she stared into nothingness. Though they’ve only been working together for roughly six months at most, Wonwoo knew her well enough to realize she hit a wall.
It made him wonder if this was where she would draw the line. Their success with Gavin gave them both an unexpected high, sure, but Wonwoo recognized that this game they were playing was a dangerous one. The people they were trying to take down had more money and connections than the two of them could ever hope to get their hands on. 
But one thing that he failed to recognize right away about Emma was that she’s always been grossly ambitious. 
“The file you gave me also mentioned na he was hoping to insure his new house in Incheon,” she pointed out. “Care to tell me why you decided to include that?”
“I know you told me not to involve the company in this as much as we can, but I couldn’t think of any other way to penetrate into his circle.” Wonwoo adjusted his necktie, suddenly feeling like he’s being watched by the hawk that was his boss. “I’ve been told that he’s wary of people. Side effects of the cocaine, probably. Though the info broker sounded like he was joking, it’s best to be wary of him. If he can hide behind the protection of his management and his family, we need to play our cards right and protect ourselves, too.”
Emma took a moment to process what her secretary just told her, nodding slowly before closing the folder containing Ezra’s file and locking it inside a hidden drawer beneath her desk. 
“Oh, Wonwoo. If only all men were as intelligent as you are,” she sighed, getting up from her seat before pinching his face. “Good work. Let's go out for drinks later. My treat.”
Wonwoo's face twisted with confusion. “For what? Doing my job?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “For going above and beyond every single time. You think you're only good at doing dirty work? At being my errand boy? You never fall behind your quotas here in the office either, you know. I think that in itself is a cause for celebration.”
Now that she’s reasoned it out, Wonwoo was even more weirded out by this strange turn of events. In the six months that Emma Rodriguez has spent as the head of PLEDIS Insurance’s Finance head, she never failed to uphold that arctic cold façade. She treated both executives and regular employees with the same degree of cut-throat harshness. 
And that’s when Wonwoo realized that she didn’t really treat him the way she treated them.
Huh. Did the Ice Queen have a melting point after all?
Despite his extensive protests, however, Wonwoo let Emma rope him into grabbing dinner and drinks at a food hub several districts away from their office. The fewer people who could recognize them outside, the better. Of course, he pleaded and reminded her several times that she was his boss and she really didn’t have to—
“Hey! Keep drinking!” Emma slurred with a huff, face red from the alcohol as she pushed another pint of beer into Wonwoo's face. “Why aren't you drunk yet, huh, Wonwoo Jeon? Are you God? Maybe that's why you're so good at obtaining information for me. Ah! No! Maybe you're the devil! Right, what we're doing isn't exactly good nor is it legal…”
Wonwoo exhaled long and hard as his boss continued blabbering nonsense across from him at their shared table. One glance at the smartwatch on his wrist told him that it was near midnight and that he should probably bring Emma home before she could make a scene. 
But…maybe they could stay for a few minutes more.
“Miss Emma? Are you sleepy?”
“Hm? Why would I be sleepy? We're drinking, aren't we?” 
“You're half-asleep on the table, so.”
At the prospect of being called out, Emma quickly shot into an upright position—looking around to see if anyone caught her drooling. When she realized she was in the clear, she narrowed her eyes at Wonwoo.
“Not a word about this in the office,” she warned, using one of the finished barbecue sticks on their empty plates to threaten him. “But...yeah. Alcohol makes me sleepy. Drive me home.”
Not even a please. This woman was really shameless even when drunk.
Not a peep of complaint was heard from Wonwoo when he drove Emma all the way to her condo unit in uptown Poblacion. Though he had to practically carry her inside and even help her out of her clothes and into her pajamas (at her request, not his own initiative), he simply told himself this was all part of his job. 
When his boss was safely tucked in bed, he was ready to bid her farewell and head back to his own place to catch up on some sleep. But for someone who was intoxicated beyond belief, Emma was still quite aware of her surroundings. The moment Wonwoo took a step away from her bed, her hand shot out to grab ahold of his wrist, making Wonwoo look back at her with an eyebrow raised.
“Wonwoo,” she murmured, face still smothered in her pillows despite her tight grip. “Can you stay?” 
“There's nowhere for me to sleep,” he chuckled. “I should go.”
“Then sleep next to me.”
The furrow on his brow merely deepened. He’d ask her to repeat what she said, but Wonwoo could recognize that Emma wasn’t really in the headspace to be reasonable right now. So instead of refuting her wish, Wonwoo carefully pried her fingers off his wrist so he could take off his work coat and fold it neatly on top of her vanity table.
This is all part of the job, he told himself.
Wonwoo laid on his boss’ duvet perfectly still. He didn’t want to make the mistake of touching her when he didn’t have explicit permission to do so. He was merely told to sleep next to her after all—nothing else.
But about fifteen minutes after he lied next to her, Emma shifted on her side of the bed—turning to him with a sleepy look in her eyes.
“You know,” she whispered, so softly, he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he was. “I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.”
Emma probably won’t remember what she mumbled in her drunken stupor in the morning. But the sadness and honesty that underlined her words sent him back about ten years into the past. To a time when he was a much greater evil than those who directly wronged her.
An apology sizzled across the tip of his tongue—something that’s a decade overdue. But before Wonwoo could hope to let her hear his piece, Emma’s breathing had become even and shallow. 
She was already fast asleep.
He sighed, staring up at the dainty ceiling of her bedroom as he chuckled helplessly to himself.
“That’s why I’m making up for it now.”
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If Gavin’s case was a walk in the park, Ezra’s was an Olympic-level marathon.
Wonwoo didn’t want to dwell on the details anymore. To cut it short: he was going to cross out ‘exposing a notorious drug lord’ off his bucket list without thinking of doing it again ever. While he managed to get out unscathed during his investigation, it just so happened that their final altercation with Ezra ended up putting Wonwoo in the hospital. 
But so what if he fractured a couple of ribs trying to save Emma from being killed by that drug-addicted lunatic? As long as their goal to bring Emma’s enemies down was achieved, he’d gladly sustain any life-threatening injuries.
Which was, admittedly…strange. 
Long before Emma came into the picture as his boss, Wonwoo never would’ve pictured himself risking his neck for the benefit of someone else. Though he had an entire arsenal of skills and knowledge at his disposal, it would take more than just his generous salary to get him to put them to good use.
But with Emma, he found himself utilizing whatever means to help her exact her revenge—on people he once called his friends, much less.
He must be going insane. 
“Wonwoo…?”
Funnily enough, he ended up recalling everything that happened over the past two weeks first before recognizing that he was just regaining consciousness in the intensive care unit. Wonwoo's eyes hurt because of how bright the fluorescent lights were overhead, but for some reason, he didn’t flinch away from her relieved smile when it was a million watts brighter than the hospital’s indoor lighting.
“Good…day, ma’am,” he croaked out awkwardly, belatedly realizing that he didn’t know what time it was. “What day is it? Did someone fix your schedule for today? Did someone go over your meal plans in my stead? Were you—”
His endless stream of questions was interrupted by hacking fit—making Emma scramble for a glass of water on the table by his hospital bed, a concerned look lining her gaze.
“Don't talk too much,” she scolded him as he finished his drink. “You’ve been out for two days, idiot.”
Two days? 
Needless to say, he couldn’t do a thing about it once his boss started fussing over him. She called over doctors she personally knew and handpicked only the most competent of nurses to look after Wonwoo. How Emma could be the judge of that, Wonwoo wasn’t very sure, but he gladly let her take care of him for a change. 
After all, they successfully concluded another chapter in Emma’s little revenge story.
“When are we going to start with Leo?”
Wonwoo brought the matter up about three days after he woke up, right in the middle of eating the stale hospital food served to him for dinner. Emma, who was snacking on some takeout fast food, hummed before tossing a french fry into her mouth.
“You're not even healed yet, and you're thinking about work?” she sighed before pointing a fry in his direction. “I’m still paying you your regular wage even if you're stuck here. You don’t have to worry about making ends meet so much, Wonwoo. You just need to rest—”
“But I don’t want to rest, I want to be useful to you,” he interrupted her gruffly, which was strange of him because he never interrupted his employers. 
For a moment, Wonwoo thought he’d be on the receiving end of a verbal lashing even if he was still recovering. Emma never let other people talk back to her without consequences. But instead, his boss threw her head back with a laugh that bordered on a snort. It’s a look that Wonwoo had seen on her time and time again—a look that he noticed Emma only showed to him. 
Back then, he didn’t really think of her smile all that much. But now…
“You’re being useful enough just by being alive, Jeon,” she reassured him, that grin of hers unwavering. “Enough questions about Leo. I'm not even thinking about him yet because compared to the previous two? He’s a lot easier to track down.”
Wonwoo shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“Same approach lang with Ezra.” She flashed him a toothy smile. “We’re going to get him to insure some of his properties under PLEDIS. But instead of us going to him, he'll be going to us instead.”
“I…? Sorry, ma’am. I don’t follow.”
Emma stifled a soft laugh behind her palm, unwrapping the burger included in her takeout meal before taking a bite of considerable size. “The Choi Corporation is expanding a chain of shopping malls somewhere in Jeju. Leo Choi personally contacted our CEO and there we have it: another big shot client.”
Another person to drag down to hell.
“Is that good enough for you?” 
Wonwoo was still processing the news as they both finished up their respective meals. He should probably be glad that Emma didn’t decide to put their secret operation on hold just because he was out of commission. But something about how smoothly they’re progressing into the next phase of Emma’s big revenge plan that made him wary of treading any further. 
He felt like he was being paranoid—probably the aftermath of almost crossing to the other side because of what happened with the Ezra incident. Wonwoo couldn’t help but be wary of any and all threats to both his life and Emma’s, and it was for a good reason.
“Okay,” Wonwoo breathed, wincing a little when he felt the spot where his ribs broke ache at how fast he inhaled. “What do you want me to do for now? Investigate? Trace his whereabouts?”
Emma’s smile suddenly turned ice cold. “I want you to rest, Wonwoo. Do I have to keep repeating myself?”
“But—”
“No buts. Boss’ orders—I'm your boss, right?” 
Ah, there’s the Ice Queen they all knew and loved. 
Fine. Maybe he could use a break from all that quote-unquote field work he just did. But one thing about his entire hospitalization still remained unanswered.
“What did you tell HR? About…this?” Wonwoo gestured towards his battered but healing body. “You’ve got the charisma, but I’m pretty sure it’s difficult even for you to go into cahoots with the other employees of PLEDIS. Much more, our human resources head.”
Emma waved away his concerns with a shake of her head. “You're so persistent, aren't you? Don’t think about HR. Or Leo. Or the rest of our plans. Can’t you be a normal salaryman and be happy that you have a break from all the things I make you do?”
“I told you, Miss Emma. I just want to make myself useful.”
“And I told you that you're the least useful in your current state. So give. It. A. Rest,” she threatened, putting emphasis on every syllable. 
But behind her intimidating façade was someone who actually cared for him. The details were still a bit muddled in Wonwoo's head, but he remembered being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Remembered how Emma never let go of his hand as they made the trip all the way. And how he heard her pray for him to make it out alive despite being a well-known agnostic.
Once their conversation had mellowed down, he laid back against the steady elevation of his bed, watching the scenic city lights glimmer outside the window of his hospital room—just behind the woman who made his life a lot more interesting.
He couldn’t wait to be useful to her again.
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“I hate this. I fucking hate this so much.”
Wonwoo spared his employer a quick glance as she practically glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. He’d been browsing through a sports car catalog tucked underneath the hotel’s coffee table, but watching Emma have a furious meltdown about her wedding was more worth his time. 
“You're the one who said that there'll more benefits if you accepted the marriage proposal,” her secretary reminded, crossing his legs as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting on. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Of course I was just…gaslighting myself about this entire fucked up situation!” Emma growled as she stomped over to him with a scowl. “Can’t fucking believe my dad agreed to marry me off just like that, too. After all his talk that I needed to love whoever I'm supposed to marry...”
Wonwoo shrugged. “Anyone can be blinded by money—especially if it's from the Chois.”
“Even you?”
It’s a question that sunk into the room with a rhetorical implication. Emma was quick to exchange the earrings her stylist chose for her with something more suited to her taste—a pair that didn’t sparkle all that much but was worth more than six months of Wonwoo's salary. In her reflection on the vanity mirror, he could clearly see the way her red lips parted in concentration as she clipped the earrings in place. 
“No,” Wonwoo responded even if he knew she wasn’t looking for an answer. “I’m more easily blinded by other things, ma’am.”
Emma glanced behind her with a puzzled look, not getting his drift. “Like what?” 
Wonwoo didn’t dare think twice. 
He got up from his once comfortable position on the couch, closing the distance that sat between him and Emma in long, calculated strides. She didn’t seem fazed by his sudden need to walk over, but the moment Wonwoo was behind her, she stiffened when he reached a hand in front of her face. Then, with a firm yet featherlight touch, her secretary wiped off the lipstick that stained past her lip line with his fingers—not once breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. 
“It wouldn’t be fun if I told you, now would it?” He smiled before pulling his hand back. “I need to keep you on your toes sometimes, too, Miss Emma.”
He half-expected her to scoff and brush off his attempt at being smart with her. Emma was a no-nonsense kind of person, and with the wedding happening soon, Wonwoo understood why she’d be more high-strung than usual. 
But instead of acting the way she always did with him, Emma took Wonwoo by surprise when she fisted his silken necktie in her manicured nails, tugging him down so that their eyes were leveled with each other. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to wrestle Wonwoo into complete submission, but this was his boss they were talking about.
There’s a glint in those sharp eyes of hers that had his heart beating off the charts. This wasn’t the gaze of someone entitled the Ice Queen of their office. No, there’s something warm in there—borderline sensual. And before Wonwoo could even hope to figure out what it was, Emma was already closing her eyes and sealing their lips together like some unspoken pact. 
It’s an inconsequential kiss. Wonwoo has made out with both men and women alike—all desperate gasps and lust-fueled passion—but somehow, none of those experiences could hold a candle to the way Emma Rodriguez pecked his lips for a fraction of a second before pulling away. 
“You're getting more and more insufferable,” she muttered, resting her forehead against his. “You were never this cheeky before. What happened?”
You, he wanted to tell her. You happened.
At that point, Wonwoo's brain was merely operating on carnal instinct alone. He lunged forward to capture her lips again, making her gasp in surprise as he snaked a strong arm around her waist. Thank fucking god Emma’s wedding dress had a simple design—no pretentious frills to obstruct his movements. 
Despite the fact that this woman—his boss—was getting married in less than two hours, Wonwoo couldn’t even give a damn. He swiped all the makeup boxes and accessories off the vanity table, propping Emma up on the horizontal surface as he kissed her until she saw stars. 
“Wonwoo,” she sighed against his lips, thighs inching apart as he bunched the long hem of her gown up to her waist. He wondered distantly if Emma was going to ask him to stop—to see reason. But the glazed look in her eyes told him otherwise.
“More.”
Wonwoo wanted nothing more than to give her more. He’d do everything she could ever dream of asking him. Never mind the fact that it was more than a little messed up for him to consider fucking his boss right before she’s married off to the man who tormented her endlessly at sixteen. 
Nobody else mattered—not Leo, not the director, not even Emma’s intricate revenge plot that was years in the making. At that moment, only the two of them existed, only separated by a few layers of clothing before they could finally become one. 
But Wonwoo was abruptly reminded why he always chose reason before ambition long before he met Emma. Dreams and delusions were bound to end when you least expected them to. Reality, on the other hand, would always remind you of life’s harshest truths.
“Miss Emma?” They both could hear the voice of Leo's personal assistant outside the door to the hotel room, preceded by a few short knocks. “It’s time for your prenup shoot. Director Rodriguez is also looking for Sir Wonwoo. Is he in there with you?”
Whatever dream the two of them have fabricated only minutes ago had been erased from existence—all that was left was a bride-to-be with her dress ruffled in all the wrong places, and a pitiful secretary with red lipstick stains adorning his face.
“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Emma yelled over to the doorway, eyes refusing to part from Wonwoo's. “We’ll be down soon. Thanks, Christina.”
“Okay, ma’am. I'll just wait for you in the lobby.”
Wonwoo counted to ten before peeling himself away from Emma, quickly striding towards the bathroom to get some tissues both for himself and his employer. But while he was wiping off the lipstick on the corners of his mouth, Wonwoo immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere.
Emma was already busy straightening herself out—smoothing down the creases in her gown and retouching her makeup as best as she could without her stylists. Wonwoo wouldn’t have minded the silence, it’s exactly the kind of setting he preferred working in. 
But just when he thought he’d managed to melt the Ice Queen’s heart over the past year, she turned arctic cold all over again. 
“After the wedding, tell my driver to accompany me to Leo's penthouse. Though I despise the idea, we have to go home together to keep up the act for everyone to see.” She gave her orders the same way she used to tell Wonwoo to sort the company’s financial reports—straight to business with little room for playing around. “Other than that, I don't have any more orders. You can rest easy for the day, Wonwoo.”
He felt like he should say something to address what just happened between them five minutes ago. To ask why she was pretending as if they weren’t breathing each other in like all the oxygen on the planet had gone in a flash. But Wonwoo wasn’t some desperate fool that overestimated his place in Emma’s life. 
“Duly noted, ma’am,” he muttered with the same degree of aloofness she’d just given him before tossing the soiled tissues in the trash. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”
Emma didn’t even break face as Wonwoo's footsteps resounded on the carpeted floor. She didn’t even spare him a second glance. But then again…
He was her secretary, and she was his employer. 
That was all there was to it.
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Much to Wonwoo's surprise, Leo's case was closed much sooner than he thought it would be.
Before Emma could even make it to the cathedral, the commotion had already started. Wonwoo had arrived earlier in the venue with Emma’s father, the director of PLEDIS Insurance, and were just about to take their seats among the other principal sponsors when the television screens mounted all over the church suddenly started playing a video.
A video that Wonwoo has already seen before.
He didn’t have to glance at Leo to know that he was sporting the most horrified look he could muster upon seeing one of your many sex scandals having an impromptu screening at the cathedral. Collective gasps and disgusted remarks were heard in a chorus of murmurs that reached all the way up to the high ceilings. 
Wonwoo could hear Leo's assistant, Christina—who turned out to be part of the sex parties her boss secretly indulged in—barking orders for the church staff to cut the feed. But it was too late. Those who needed to see the truth have already gotten their fill.
Recognizing that his daughter couldn’t possibly be wed to a man with a reputation that’s been tarnished in a church, of all places, Director Rodriguez ordered Wonwoo to contact the bridal car driver and tell him to send Emma straight home instead. It’s a job that Wonwoo got done fairly quickly, and despite the numerous text messages that Emma sent him demanding answers about what happened, he didn’t respond to any of them right away. 
After a few hours of digging around, Wonwoo eventually found out that one of Leo's cousins was behind the public exposé. Apparently, said cousin was able to obtain the same footage that Emma acquired and was able to sabotage Leo's attempt at seizing their family riches before Emma could even put her plans into motion. 
Well, at least someone else already did the dirty work for them.
As usual, Wonwoo collated all the information he’s gathered in a concise email. This was how he kept Emma up to speed about their progress—through self-destructing emails. He informed her about the involvement of Leo's cousin and how the trash had taken itself out, ensuring that Leo Choi had fallen from the false pedestal he’s clung onto for years.  
Their behind-the-scenes mission has been fulfilled.
While he didn’t expect Emma to respond enthusiastically, receiving radio silence in return wasn’t something Wonwoo had anticipated either. But he opted not to read into it much. She must’ve been royally pissed that Leo's demise wasn’t brought about by her own hand, and Wonwoo respected that.
The following Monday after the canceled wedding, however, he ended up finding out the reason behind her silence. 
“Boss,” sobbed Seokmin when Wonwoo timed in at the office. “Please don't leave!”
Immediately backing him up was Soonyoung, who didn’t hesitate to hug Wonwoo, even giving him a few pats on the shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. “It's okay, Sir Wonwoo. You've been here long enough. Maybe it's about time you found your path elsewhere.”
…Huh?
“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo voiced out his confusion. “You’re speaking like I got fired.”
As if on cue, the third member of their trio walked in on the conversation as he sipped on his usual iced americano. Seungkwan stared at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression before saying:
“But weren't you fired, sir? Miss Emma announced it this morning, but I think she left right away after, too.”
Not privy to the way the pieces started to click in his head, Seokmin and Soonyoung kept consoling Wonwoo as he made his way to his (old) cubicle. Emma had been one step ahead too—someone already having packed away most of his belongings in storage boxes. Not to mention the notice of contract termination sitting on his desk. Effective immediately, it says.
“I really don't get it though” Seungkwan droned behind him. “You? The best secretary in the city? Fired just like that?”
Seokmin nodded. “I don't understand it either. You two were business-as-usual after the wedding. Miss Emma must've been so pissed that she didn't get married that she laid off the boss here.”
“True,” Soonyoung agreed with a snicker. “Boss, maybe Miss Emma's just being unreasonable. I bet she'll be begging for you to come back in a few days' time.”
Yeah. That’s what the situation would seem like to an outsider. But Wonwoo knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t bluffing about this. She fired him for a reason that’s been stewing for more than a decade. Even if Gavin, Ezra, and Leo have had their taste of justice, Emma’s revenge plot wasn’t finished like Wonwoo thought it was.
Because Wonwoo was one of her targets all along, too.
I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.
“Where is she?” 
Seungkwan perked up. “Uh, maybe she went home? She told us something about feeling a bit under the weather?”
Seokmin nodded. “She's probably in her penthouse or something. If i were you, I'd start making it up to her.”
“Hey, you're talking like they're actually dating,” Soonyoung scolded with a laugh.
Not even bothering to thank them, Wonwoo turned on his heel and made a beeline for the office entrance—dead set on doing exactly what Seokmin jokingly suggested.
This is why I'm making it up to you, he mused with an exasperated air as he buckled up in his car. 
Can’t you just let me in?
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Emma spent her first Monday after the entire wedding disaster with Leo holed up in her unit—stuffing herself full of ice cream. The only reason she bothered going to the office today was to formally announce that her secretary Wonwoo Jeon was fired—just like she’d been planning since the moment she met him again as her secretary after all these goddamn years.
Her high school bullies have been put in their place. Her fifteen-year revenge plot was finally over.
But why did she feel so fucking depressed about it?
She sighed pitifully when she realized she’d already emptied her tub of double dutch ice cream, finally deigning to get up from the couch to deposit it in the kitchen for later disposal. But just when she was about to continue moping in her living room, the doorbell to her unit buzzed from the entrance, making her glance that way curiously.
It could be her next-door neighbor. A kind, elderly woman who lived with her daughter. She borrowed Emma’s rosemary spices yesterday—something that she barely used because she often opted to go for food deliveries instead of whipping up her own meals. 
With that reasoning in mind, she didn’t bother checking who was at the door through the peephole. She simply undid the locks before opening the door—only to come face-to-face with—
“Hey,” Wonwoo sighed as he jammed his foot between the door and the doorframe. “Ma’am, please talk to me first. Did you think I wouldn't catch onto what you were trying to do?”
“Why do I have to explain myself to you? You’re fired, right?” Emma growled as she pushed the door with her back, but sadly, Wonwoo easily overpowered her. At least he was decent enough to not let himself in—he simply lingered out in the hallway with a placid look on his face. “What?”
“Emma,” her ex-secretary addressed her for the first time without any formalities. “If you fired me as vengeance for not helping you all those years ago, I get it. I deserve it, even. But after what happened sa hotel…
“You can’t convince me there’s nothing between us anymore.”
Her breath hitched, face growing warm at the reminder of that intimate moment they shared hours before she was supposed to get married. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel Wonwoo's mouth on hers. But that wasn’t a thought that was healthy to entertain at the moment.
“What are you saying? That was all part of the plan, you know?” She bluffed with a mirthless laugh, fully turning to face him as she crossed her arms. “Make you smitten enough with me to let your guard down. Look, you didn't expect me to fire you, did you?”
“No, but you can’t fool me, Emma,” Wonwoo chuckled with a self-satisfied smirk. “You wanted me too—that was real. If I’m mistaken, then make me leave. Call security on me. If I’m the nuisance you so desperately want me to be, then get rid of me here and now.”
The silence was thick between them. Emma was practically shaking with frustration as Wonwoo stared down at her with that overconfident look on his face. She wanted nothing but to punch him, hit him, slap him—
Kiss him.
Maybe Wonwoo was right. Maybe Emma did want him more than she led herself to believe. 
Because why the hell did she fist the front of Wonwoo's work shirt before pulling him inside her penthouse? Why did she slam him against the door, earning a sexy groan from him as she crushed their lips together?
Was this a healthy way to deal with your current predicament? No—definitely not. But it felt too fucking good to pass up on.
Wonwoo, however, was all too quick to regain control—hooking one of Emma’s thighs around his waist as she gasped into his mouth. She could practically feel him smirk against her lips, and though she’s loath to admit, it only made her want him even more.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled before peppering her neck with love bites. “You might need to kill me first before I stop pursuing you.”
Emma spared him a breathless laugh that quickly melted into a moan when Wonwoo's hand found itself inside her oversized sleep shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were obsessed with me, Jeon.”
His fingers were warm against her skin, and Emma couldn’t help the full-on shudder that racked her body when Wonwoo grazed her bare nipples. The smile on his face was wicked—dangerous, even. 
“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, his breath fanning against her flushed face.
“What would you do if I was obsessed with you, Ma’am?”
Emma was well aware that Wonwoo knew the answer to his own question. It was obvious in the way he quickly picked her up from the floor, fully wrapping both her legs around his waist as he carried her towards her bedroom. But despite the carnal urgency in his grip, Wonwoo was awfully gentle as he laid her down on the mattress.
“Last chance to kick me out,” he murmured against her ear as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “You could exact your revenge on me even better, ‘no? I’m giving you the leeway to frame me for forced entry…among other things.”
God. She knew Wonwoo was a little crazy when he accepted Emma’s orders to help her make his old best friends suffer. But the way he looked at her with such crazed desire further confirmed her suspicions.
And she didn’t want her men any other way.
“Fuck me, Wonwoo,” she told him clearly before stripping her own clothes and laying herself bare for him to feast on—eyes lidded, desiring him just as much as he did her. “That’s an order.”
He shook his head with a chuckle, and Emma had to force herself not to drool over his perfectly built torso. If she had more patience, she would’ve taken her time worshiping every inch of Wonwoo's body, but he’d already set a fire in the pit of her stomach. One that she fully expected him to deal with sooner than later.
“So wet for me,” he observed with a lopsided smirk, pressing their foreheads together as he lathered his fingers with her slick. “Have you always wanted me this way? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me, Miss Emma?”
Yes. Fuck, yes. 
“That’s none of your business, Jeon,” Emma stubbornly insisted, keeping herself from moaning when his lips descended onto one of her hardened nipples. 
Wonwoo made good on the opportunity, using the fingers he’d used to feel up her slick cunt to rub her essence across the other bud he wasn’t suckling on. The effect was near immediate—Emma throwing her head back with a pretty little whimper as Wonwoo started to massage her breasts. 
Fuck. He’d always dreamed of getting to smother his face between them.
“Wonwoo,” she gasped out loud, hips bucking desperately when he bit down on her sensitive flesh. “F-Fuck me. Now.” 
“Demanding.” He pulled away from her sensitive nipples with a pop, staring up at her with a lustful gaze. “You enjoy ordering me around too much, you know?”
“You enjoy being ordered around, too,” Emma pointed out with a scoff, trying her best not to moan too loudly when Wonwoo's fingers started to toy with her leaking cunt again. “Just—I need you. Please.”
Ah, he never thought the day would come when he’d hear Emma Rodriguez begging for his cock.
“Okay, Ice Queen,” he relented with a playful laugh, kicking his underwear and trousers off as he pumped his already hard length. “Since you're so eager for me to fuck you, I’m not going to prep you anymore. You better not cry when my cock splits you open, okay?”
Hearing him talk so lewdly to her made her pussy gush with excitement. What’s more was that, not only was her secretary blessed with a face and body that gods would covet, but his cock was something she was afraid she’d keep looking for even when he was done with her.
He was awfully careful when he first pushed inside of her, sharp eyes riveted on her face as it twisted with both pain and pleasure alike. His size was something that one needed getting used to, and he wasn’t about to make his first time with Emma uncomfortable for her.
No, he wanted her to keep thinking about him even after they’ve had their fill of each other.
“Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he rasped against her neck, licking a long stripe along the column of her throat to make her shiver. “Too bad you already fired me. I always wondered what it would feel like to bend you over and fuck you in your office.” 
He could feel her pussy squeeze his cock even tighter at the shameless image she put in her head, making Wonwoo smirk with pride as he started to move. Emma mewled his name, grabbing his face as he chased his lips. He was all too willing to give her what she wanted, meeting her with an open-mouthed kiss as their tongues clashed together in time with his thrusts.
“W-Wonwoo,” she moaned into his mouth, hips eagerly meeting his. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.”
And fuck her deeper, he did—Emma’s got him wrapped around her pretty manicured fingers, after all. 
Wonwoo was relentless with the way he pounded her into the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing much too loudly in his ears. But he didn’t fucking care. The feel of Emma’s velvet pussy walls pulsing around his cock sent his mind into a frenzy—fucking her until the bedframe creaked, until Emma was begging him to give her more, more, more—
All of a sudden, she gasped, “Coming, coming—!” 
If being inside her was life-changing, feeling her cum around his cock sent Wonwoo straight to heaven. Her cunt spasmed deliciously as Wonwoo helped her ride out her high—lips locked together as they breathed each other in. 
“Cum inside me,” she murmured deliriously into his mouth, practically rubbing her breasts—sensitive and littered with all the marks Wonwoo left on them—against his toned chest. “Make me yours, Jeon.”
He didn’t have to be told twice.
“God, I love you,” he sighed a little mindlessly, and those carelessly uttered words made Emma’s eyes widen with surprise before losing herself to the feeling of delirium. 
Wonwoo spilled his load inside her quivering cunt with a long-winded moan, feeling like he’d been shot through the head and was experiencing a level of euphoria that bordered on illegal. Emma moaned at the feel of his warm cum filling her to the brim, bringing him down for another sloppy kiss as the heat of the moment started to dissipate in the quiet atmosphere of their bedroom.
As their breaths started to settle, Emma was the first to glance at him—to meet his eyes. Wonwoo couldn’t find any trace of the arctic cold Ice Queen that practically told him to scram the other day at the hotel.
No, it was just Emma. 
His Emma.
“Can I still take back my verdict?” she muttered softly, inching closer to bury her face in his chest. Wonwoo instinctively pulled her in for a tender embrace, kissing the crown of her head with a smile.
“You mean the contract termination?” Wonwoo chuckled. “Take it up to HR, Miss Emma. I’m just a lowly secretary.”
All of a sudden, Emma rolled over so that she was seated upright on the bed. Wonwoo had to keep himself from groaning at the sight of her—hair disheveled and body sporting all his marks. Seeing her freshly fucked by him was doing things to his libido. 
“You’re not just my secretary, Wonwoo,” she sighed, twiddling with her fingers awkwardly. “I…I wasn’t going to fire you anymore. I got used to your company. I…
“I fell in love with you.” 
The words floated between them like a cloud that couldn’t easily be swept up by the wind. Wonwoo offered her a comforting smile before pulling her into a firm kiss.
“Yet you fired me anyway,” he pointed out with a laugh. “Why? You couldn’t deal with the fact that you fell in love with one of your high school bullies?”
That earned him a punch in the shoulder. “You’re not one of them. You’re different.”
“And you’re in love with me too, no? You said it yourself. Since when?”
Shaking his head, Wonwoo then pressed a soft, featherlight kiss on her nose—one that had Emma’s heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl.
Gosh, this man. He’s fifteen years too late.
“Maybe I’ve always been a little in love with you. Who knows?” Wonwoo spared her a Cheshire cat smile. “There’s more where that came from though.”
Emma punched him in the chest this time—a bit too close to the spot where he broke a few ribs months prior. But he didn’t care.
She could send him to hell and back and he’d do it for her in a heartbeat.
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From: Wonwoo Jeon 
Subject: NOT-SO CLASSIFIED
Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well.
I heard that you dealt with quite a stressful client today. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t here to help you with the matter as I was given tasks to do elsewhere. In order to make up for this lapse on my part, I am cordially inviting you to dinner at 7PM tonight after work. 
Rest assured, the expenses shall be shouldered by me and your only job is to sit and look gorgeous as I wine and dine you for the evening. Sincerely hoping for your most favorable response.
Regards, 
Wonwoo Jeon
Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department
PLEDIS Insurance 
Your boyfriend :)
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end notes: this wasnt thoroughly proofread so if you spot some strange errors (aka sentences in a different language bc this fic was partly in filipino) here and there, pretend you didn't see em! as always, ur feedback means everything to me so scream in the tags or my ask as much as you want ^__^
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virgamsysxvolumes · 2 months
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Gossip Ghost
[Tags/TW: Trans!Danny, implied SA(false), implied grooming(platonic), de-aged Danielle, de-aged Dan, stabilization pod, destabilized clones, neglectful but well meaning Fenton Parents, BAMF Jazz, platonic yandere Vlad, horrific misunderstandings, manipulative Vlad, emotional manipulation, misunderstandings, eavesdropping, OCs for plot reasons, ghost bonding through violence, Parentification of both Jazz and Danny]
"Listen here you crooked son of a bitch; I've had it up to here with your lying, scheming bullshit! I told you that if you cheat again and brought your problems to my door then we were through!" Danny shouted a little louder than he meant to. He was just so angry. "Now that man and his whole family are homeless!"
"No! Daniel wait! It isn't what you think it is I was just-" Vlad tried to make excuses for going back on his promise and cheating yet another business rival out of their entire fortune.
"Do you think I'm stupid!? You think I don't know what you're up to!? All of a sudden a flock of new sycophants appears and you start throwing money at me again?! We have children Vlad! What kind of example are you setting for them when you go around lying and scheming your way through your job?" Danny scolded him harshly, long fed up with being lied to and allowing Vlad chance after chance to change his ways.
"It's just networking! It is a legitimate part of my job!" Vlad started to sweat hoping against hope that Danny had not caught onto his real scheme.
"Oh and I suppose Rubella is also just a part of your job is she?" Danny gave him no mercy however, instantly outing the ghost that had been helping him scheme for a kingdom that made up a good portion of the Infinite Realms and would have guaranteed him a spot on the High Council.
Vlad sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth, "How did you-"
"Did you really think I wouldn't find out!? Do you think no one talks?! That everyone is just going to turn a blind eye to you because you can throw around pointless trinkets? You better go back and cover your tracks Vlad because I'm done!" Danny pointed accusingly at Vlad.
Vlad tried again, "Now Daniel be reasonable. Think of the children-"
"I am thinking of my children! I'm the only one that is apparently! You promised me after Dan that you would change! That you would go to therapy and actually work on yourself and now this!? Does our family mean nothing to you!? It's been five years of this Vlad! I am exhausted! I can't deal with this anymore and I need to do what's best for my kids." Danny threw his arm out sharply, waving him off.
"No! You need me! How will you afford to feed them? What about their schooling? Surely you-" Vlad panicked his eyes flashing red briefly.
"No Vlad we don't need you, we wanted you here but now you've been sneaking around plotting all kinds of nefarious shit that could mean the end of us and it did! Now I'm ending this." Danny snarled his hair raising like an angry cat, "I gave you a thousand chances because my Dad thinks you're his best friend and I didn't want to upset him! I've covered for you more times than I can count! My parents still think that Dani and Dan are an accident; a mistake that I made and not one of your bullshit schemes to keep me chained to you! I let them think that because I didn't want to break my dad's heart. But you test the limits of my patience and forgiveness constantly and I'm done with it."
"Daniel you are being completely unreasonably and irrational. They are my children too, you can't just cut me out like this!" Vlad protested again.
"Oh yeah? Just watch me!" Danny shouted launching himself at Vlad and starting off the physical altercation. Vlad did not hesitate to meet him blow for blow however.
Just next door Jason, Dan, and Dani had been eating popcorn and listening through the paper thin walls. They were all three absolutely riveted by the confrontation taking place. Though only Dan and Dani had the full context of what was actually being discussed and Jason was getting angrier the longer he listened.
"You tell him Danny, don't let that bitch walk all over you." Jason muttered.
"Bitch." Dan and Dani crowed together in agreement, Jason hissed and scrunched his nose.
"Shit, wait, don't say that. Your Ma'll be pissed I taught you that." Jason scolded gently, Dan and Dani giggled.
The abrupt sound of fighting had Jason tensing however and he stood up quickly, Dan and Dani under each arm. The only thing that kept him from storming over and kicking Vlad's ass was the two small kids under his arms. He set them down on the couch quickly and pulled up his phone to call one of his siblings, he didn't even really check which one before he was calling.
[Jason? What's up?] It was Babs, she sounded confused and given it was barely four in the afternoon made sense.
"Hey Babs, Fenton confronted Masters and the discussion turned physical. Can you send someone to break it up? I'm watching his kids for him in the meantime and I don't want to leave them alone to go break them up." Jason explained.
"Mom will get him! Mommy is way stronger than daddy." Dani informed him decisively and loudly. Dan nodded along with absolute faith, Jason wished he had the same kind of faith.
"Danny is like a hundred pounds soaking wet, I'm sending backup." Jason replied flatly. Dani huffed and Dan mimicked her both of them sitting on his couch with arms crossed.
[Don't worry, I'll send someone trustworthy to break up the fight and throw Masters out. We can set a restraining order in motion.] Babs offered.
"Restraining orders only ever serve to escalate the situation. Maybe hold off on that until we can talk it out with Fenton." Jason refuted with a frown.
[Alright, we can at least get him locked in the drunk tank for the night.] Babs replied.
"Thanks Babs." Jason sighed, Danny hadn't screamed for help yet and the fight was still going strong so at least it seemed he was holding his own against the larger man.
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lovewithmary · 5 months
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(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series
★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock?
previous next series masterlist
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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 39420123 others
eviestark: i believe this called a photo dump? idk blame lando and danny for this
tagged: landonorris charles_leclerc lewishamilton carlossainz55 danielricciardo
comments
author: yes half of these pictures are from lando’s jpg account ignore it pls
landonorris: photo credit for the 8th picture 😎 ↳ eviestark: does it really count as photo credit when we were just facetiming and you said "smile!" and i did? ↳ landonorris: it is in my book
user1: SHE INFILTRATED THE GRID
user2: DID ALL OF THEM GIVE HER THOSE FLOWERS?
user3: ma’am do you need a dog? i can bark
user4: evie fr went from being seen with only max to everyone with her BUT max 💀
user5: gold digger ↳ user8: im sorry... but did you see her last name? STARK. meaning STARK INDUSTRIES. she's probably richer than all of the f1 drivers in this photo dump
carlossainz55: amor my picture does not look good ↳ eviestark: i told you i was taking a picture los :( ↳ user17: THE NICKNAMES????? LOS AND AMOR
lilymhe: beautiful 😍 (the flowers + evie) ↳ eviestark: can albono fight? cause i’ll fight him ↳ alex_albon: ill try to fight, but ill probably get my ass kicked by black widow's prodigy ↳ eviestark: ALEX ↳ alex_albon: shit was i not supposed to say that? ↳ lilymhe: i apologize on his behalf 😭
francisca.cgomes: i miss you smmm! we should hang out again ↳ eviestark: leave gasly, ill treat u better 😘 ↳ pierregasly: excuse me? ↳ eviestark: don't look gasly
carmenmmundt: girls day when? ↳ eviestark: get rid of george and it'll be girls night every night ↳ georgerussell63: i'm watching you evie ↳ eviestark: and you can watch me steal your girl russell
charles_leclerc: i wasn't even looking at the camera ↳ eviestark: but you still look good stfu
user6: evie must’ve saved a village in her past life because how is she so pretty, A STARK, and rumored to be with most of the f1 grid rn? ↳ user7: don’t forget her family is the avengers, she has 3 degrees, and can fight (as we have just discovered by alex)
user9: evie who is your favorite f1 driver rn (hint: m.v) ↳ charles_leclerc: (m)charles (v)leclerc ↳ landonorris: (m)lando (v)norris ↳ carlossainz55: (m)carlos (v)sainz ↳ danielricciardo: (m)daniel (v)ricciardo ↳ lewishamilton: lewis hamilton ↳ eviestark: (m)yuki (v)tsunoda (but lewis is a close second) ↳ user10: SHE'S ONE OF US!!!! ↳ landonorris: why is yuki your favorite ↳ eviestark: 1. have you seen him 2. he eats the stuff i bake 3. have you seen him ↳ landonorris: fair enough ↳ yukitsunoda0511: i will always eat anything you bake :)
danielricciardo: practiced on my jpg account to prepare myself to take picture of evie at the eiffel tower ↳ eviestark: it's pretty but it's blurry ↳ danielricciardo: you couldn't stop laughing and you turned around! ↳ eviestark: i only turned around bc u kept on making funny faces while u were taking pictures!!!
tonystark: tesoro did u get the autograph from my favorite driver? ↳ eviestark: i did, but papa you just should've texted me instead of commenting on my post 😭 😭 ↳ user11: TONY WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE DRIVER? 🎤 ↳ tonystark: lewis hamilton. ↳ user12: shouldn't it be max since you've known him the longest ↳ tonystark: not anymore.
lewishamilton: roscoe misses you ↳ user13: SHE GOT TO MEET ROSCOE HAMILTON? oh verstappen is fucked ↳ user14: not just roscoe, she also has (lewis) hamilton, ricciardo, norris, leclerc, and sainz liked by eviestark
user15: isn't it kinda fucked that just bc max was seen with kelly piquet evie is all of a sudden surrounded by f1 drivers when she and max were never together? ↳ user16: bffr she's not doing anything wrong. like u said, they were never together so that means that it doesn't matter if she's hanging out with f1 drivers now liked by eviestark
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asdfghjklmals · 10 months
Text
THE PURRR-FECT APPROACH✩༶‧˚
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GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. WORD COUNT: 2.0k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, boyfriend!gojo, established couple. adoptedkiddo! tsumiki.
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SYNOPSIS: tsumiki wants to get a pet cat, so she devises a plan with satoru on how to ask oc gojo girlfriend for one. AUTHOR'S NOTE: i was inspired to write this after seeing this picture. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!
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“you want to get a cat?” satoru asked in surprise. his blue eyes peeking through his sunglasses to look at his 10 year old adopted daughter.
“yes! i promise i'll take care of it!” tsumiki said with her hands intertwined together tightly. “i will use my allowance to buy everything it needs! i’ll make sure to clean the litter box too!”
now, satoru gojo wasn’t one to say no. especially if tsumiki, his golden child, was asking. you already had two demon puppies in the house due to megumi's shikigami. the hurdle was getting you to agree on getting a cat too.
“you’re gonna have to ask (y/n). you know she makes the rules in this household.” satoru sarcastically said.
coming up with a plan, tsumiki asked her guardian, “gojo-sensei. can you like… sweeten her up a little bit? like buy her flowers or give her a big kiss before i ask? oh, how about you guys go shopping before i ask? (y/n) has been wanting to buy a new work bag, but she's been busy.”
satoru smiled at the fact that his adopted children could be so cunning and smart. but then again, they were raised by intelligent you and guileful him.
“gotcha.” he winked at the 10 year old. “what time does the boss come home today?” gojo looked at the family calendar on the kitchen wall.
you both had a routine down after work. today was your turn to assist megumi with his after school activities. megumi had a school book club that both you and satoru supervised. you also both took turns with jujutsu training at the high school dojo. it was satoru's day to be in charge of dinner.
“boss comes home at 6:30!” tsumiki sprinted back to satoru, who was sitting on the couch, arms hanging along the backrests. she jumped on the couch to sit next to him.
“why don’t we start dinner? so when (y/n) and megumi come home, they’ll be in a good mood.” the blue eyed sorcerer suggested. he knew that you and megumi would be annoyed if dinner wasn’t ready by the time they got home. he could hear your voice in his head scolding him, ‘why did you wait until we got home to start cooking?’
“oh, you’re right. those two get angry when they’re hungry.”
"i think that’s called hangry, sweetheart.” satoru chuckled as tsumiki went to the kitchen to open the fridge to start dinner.
later that evening
"we're home!" you called out as you and megumi took off your shoes in the foyer. megumi took off his backpack and sighed. you put down your work bag and ruffled his hair, your eyes hidden by a cheeky smile.
"looks like you got roughed up, kid." satoru teased from the kitchen as he saw a couple scrapes on megumi's knee and cheek.
"don't worry about it, (y/n) used her reversed cursed energy to heal me and we made sure to see shoko before we left." he avoided eye contact with him. megumi knew that jujutsu training would be difficult, especially when he was training with the two strongest sorcerers known to man.
"he did really well today." you reported to satoru as he walked towards you and gave you a welcome home kiss. he hugged you as he winked at megumi behind your back.
"what's for dinner?" megumi ignored satoru’s teasing and walked towards his sister. tsumiki happily replied, "katsu and curry."
tsumiki set the table for the four of you. at the little dining table, the seating arrangement was that satoru sat across from megumi, and next to you and tsumiki. megumi preferred to sit next to you anyways, and it was only right that the two guardians that were so in love with each other sat next to each other. (the real reason was that megumi threw his grape juice at satoru during dinner once, which hit his infinity, which means grape juice stained your expensive rug. so they weren't allowed to sit next to each other at dinner anymore.)
"tsumiki, how was your day today?" you asked as you cut into your katsu. satoru seemed like he wanted to say something.
"aren't you going to ask how my day was, babe?" satoru interrupted.
"you can wait." you glared at him. you liked to hear about the kids' day.
you smiled and winked at tsumiki as she got your que to continue, "it was good! we learned about cats today."
"that's great, sweetheart!" you nodded as you scooped a spoonful of curry and rice into your mouth.
"(y/n), tsumiki wants to get a cat." megumi flat out announced. you and satoru choked on your food, surprised but not surprised at megumi's straightforwardness. satoru cleared his throat and started laughing.
"why do you want to get a cat? we already have kuro and shiro." you wiped your mouth with a napkin, clearing your throat while looking at her.
"that's the reason why! megumi has not one, but two dogs... i want a pet too!"
now, you were all for fairness, and she did put up a good point. megumi could summon his demon dogs whenever he wanted and they kept him company. if tsumiki could watch satoru on his days off without getting into trouble, she was definitely responsible enough.
"please, (y/n), pretty please? i told gojo-sensei that i would pay for everything and clean the litter box." tsumiki got out of her chair to dash to your side, grabbing your hand to plead.
you bit your lip in hesitation and looked at satoru, he just smirked at you and nodded his head in approval. ultimately, it was up to you. "okay, sweetie. you have to keep up your end of the deal though."
tsumiki cheered and jumped up and down. she hugged you tightly. "thank you so much! you're the best, (y/n)! i promise i will!"
"satoru will take you first thing in the morning, now finish your dinner." you announced.
"hey! but it's my day off!" satoru complained as you looked at him smugly, blowing him a kiss.
the next day
during work, satoru teleported into your office. it used to scare you, but now you were used to it. you could sense that man's cursed energy from a million miles away.
"when's your break?" he asked while sitting on your desk, looking around in your office. he leaned over and looked at the picture frame on your desk, it was a picture of tsumiki and megumi on their first day of school, a couple months after you and satoru had taken them in. they were so small at the time.
"right now." you shut down your laptop and smiled at him. he walked over to you, intertwined your arms and gave you a kiss. he quickly clasped his hands together and you felt a huge whoooosh!
you closed your eyes and took a deep breath before you almost shot his face with a huge stream of water with your cursed technique. you grit your teeth and put your hand down because you knew it would only hit his infinity. he loved to do this.
"satoru gojo! why did you teleport us away from the school?!" you yelled at him.
he just laughed and pushed you into the pet store where tsumiki was looking at the kittens. "i thought it was only right that both of her guardians were here for this moment."
you rolled your eyes at him while you walked over to tsumiki, hand in hand. "i brought (y/n) so she wouldn't miss this. did you choose which one you wanted?" satoru asked the smiling girl.
"yeah, i want the white one with blue eyes!" she pointed through the glass.
the pet shop owner picked up the kitten and put it gently in tsumiki's arms. the kitten purred as you watched by satoru's side. you could feel yourself smiling again, forgetting that satoru just teleported you away from the school without your permission.
"can you make sure to add in everything a kitten needs?" satoru asked the pet shop owner, flashing his handsome smile, sunglasses sliding down his nose, showing his beautiful blue eyes. the shop owner nodded their head with a shy smile and made sure to grab everything tsumiki needed to be a responsible cat owner. you scoffed at his ridiculous ways of trying to charm people. it may or may not have worked on you when you were both in high school.
you looked at your watch, you had 2 minutes to be back at the school before principal yaga would chew you out for leaving work. "my break is over, satoru. you need to teleport me back to the school. tsumiki, i'll see you at home, sweetheart." you kissed the top of her head as she smiled with the kitten in her arms.
"so bossy..." satoru mumbled while he looked at you.
the two of you stepped outside, satoru drew his teleportation symbol into the ground around you. you grabbed his jaw roughly with your right hand to pull him in, you glared at him and kissed him goodbye before he flashed a shit-eating grin at you. he clasped his hands together to teleport you back to jujutsu high.
back at the apartment
"so, kiddo, whatcha gonna name your new cat?" satoru asked as he placed a big department store shopping bag on the ground next to all the cat supplies. tsumiki's new white kitten laid in her arms, purring.
"i'm naming it catoru!" she smiled brightly.
"are you naming your cat after silly ol' satoru gojo?" satoru asked with a huge smile on his face. him and catoru were twins after all, white-haired and blue-eyed.
EXTRA:
"you didn't use the card that's linked to the kids' bank account, did you?" you suspected as you and satoru watched from the couch. tsumiki and megumi admired catoru as it slept in it's little home scratch post. megumi's demon puppies were also watching the kitten curiously next to him, tails wagging furiously.
"not at all." satoru softly said as he brushed your hair behind your ear to sneak a kiss on your temple. he made sure he swiped his own card at the pet store.
whenever purchases were made for the kids, you and satoru would pay for things instead of using their financial aid money that satoru received from the school. they deserved to have whatever they wanted without the worry of finances, both you and satoru made sure of that. it wasn't like you needed the money since you both came from very well-off clans.
"i hope you do the same when we go shopping on sunday." you joked with him, gently slapping his chest.
he chuckled, "don't worry, baby. hey, tsumiki!"
tsumiki turned to look over at her guardians, her brown ponytail flowing in the air, "yes?" she replied.
"can you go get the thing?" satoru asked her sweetly with his eyebrows raised. she nodded her head and ran into her room to grab a shopping bag. satoru sat up from the couch, you looked at them with confusion on your face.
"this is for you, (y/n)!" tsumiki cheerfully handed you the shopping bag.
"you. did. not." you looked over at satoru excitedly. he had his signature shit-eating grin. it was one of your favorite smiles to see on his face.
"open it, babe." he urged you to look into the shopping bag. you squealed as the kids came over to see what you were freaking out about. you pulled out the designer bag that you had been wanting since the start of the new school year. it was your little personal tradition to get a new work bag every year, but you had been so busy with work that you haven't had the time to buy one.
your eyes were entranced by the black leather and gold designer emblem. you tried on the bag by putting it over your shoulder, playfully posing with it as satoru and tsumiki smiled brightly at you.
megumi looked at the bag and quietly said, "that's the bag she wanted? it's ug—" tsumiki shoved an elbow into his side and muttered, "shut up, (y/n) likes it."
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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 3 months
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Push the Sky Away - Part One
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Lorra Stark) Chapter warnings: Angst. Canon typical violence. Mention of loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~6.5k
Summary: We are getting to know Aemond in this chapter. Some scene setting and world building, not much to be found of our OC until she is introduced towards the end. Laying the groundwork for what's to come later. Series masterlist.
Author's note: For @sapphirehearteyes. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.
Fire and Blood, the infamous words of House Targaryen. It is a phrase that both haunts and eludes Aemond Targaryen from an early age, with its promise of greatness and constant reminder of all he will never be. 
The Targaryen name is the only thing of any value that Viserys has ever bestowed upon his sons. Aemond ponders whether his father’s disinterest in him is a result of the illness that weakens his body by the day, or if he simply has no room in his heart for the children borne of his second marriage. When he watches him interact with Rhaenyra, how he lights up in her presence in a way that he does not for him or his other siblings, he knows it is the latter.
The fireplace warms his skin, uncomfortably so, and despite the septa’s caution that he not sit so close, he refuses to budge. Sweat prickles the back of his neck, dampening and curling the ends of the hair that sticks to it. His discomfort is of little importance to him, he needs to remain within this proximity to the hearth in order to keep his egg warm, to ensure it hatches. It is a vigil he has kept for as long as he can remember, not moving until he is forced to bed with aching joints and soot covered hands. Unable to understand why it had never hatched in his cradle, he is certain that if he does his due diligence then soon he will have a dragon of his own.
His mother is alerted of his disobedience, and Alicent regards him with sadness in her large brown eyes, as she reaches for him.
“Come away, my dearest love, you will have a dragon of your own one day.”
He simply shakes his head. She could not understand. He does not want just any dragon, he wants his. There must be a reason why this particular egg was imparted upon him, otherwise it is all for nothing.
Despite this, day after day the hardened scales remain cool to the touch, little more than a rock between his tiny fingers. Perhaps placing it within the flames themselves will yield the result he hopes for?
He leans forward into the fireplace, heat blazing against his pale cheeks, and an acrid stench fills his nostrils. It is not until he is pulled forcefully back by the firm grasp of the septa that he realises the ends of his long, fair hair have singed, charred and blackened by the heat of the fire.
The egg is taken away after that, and Aemond weeps bitterly at the unfairness of it. It is his birthright, his only birthright, and now his sole purpose for being has been snatched from him; it seems there is little point to his existence now. He never sees the egg again, but he often wonders what would have happened if he had been left uninterrupted to place it upon the flames.
When Aemond is a little older, he begins to frequent the Dragonpit, for what is a Targaryen without their dragon? If he no longer has his own egg then he will find another, or perhaps claim a riderless mount of his own.
The warmth beneath the Grand Sept is different from that of the fireplace. It is dank and humid within the pit, the odour of droppings hangs heavy in the air, mixed with sulphur and ash. The smell sticks to his clothes when he returns to the Keep each evening, and momentarily he feels his chest swell with pride as his mother winkles her nose in disgust at the scent. It is the same look of distaste that she bestows upon both Helaena and Aegon when they return from flying, and for the briefest of moments he can pretend that he has too.
Yet still he goes to bed each evening dragonless, and begins each day anew with the bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth as he watches his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys, interact with their dragons, Vermax and Arrax. Targaryens are considered to be closer to gods than men, so it feels like a cruel twist of fate that his half sister’s bastard offspring should be blessed with eggs that hatched in their cradles when his did not. Rhaenyra’s children have the favour of the Seven, whereas they seem to have turned a blind eye to him.
Aemond’s heart soars with hope when the dragonkeepers reveal to his sister that Dreamfyre is gravid. If she produces a healthy clutch of eggs then he can claim one, one that will actually hatch. In spite of the warnings that the she-dragon be left in peace during this sensitive time, and Helaena’s frustrated and repeated requests to stop disturbing her, he cannot resist the pull towards where she roosts within her darkened cave. If she is to lay an egg, then he wants to be the first to see it, to ensure he can take one for himself.
The blistering heat of the flames that Dreamfyre expels with her mighty roar of anger as he approaches yet again causes him to stagger backwards, wide eyed and slack jawed. But Aemond feels no fear as gazes into her fiery maw, his only thoughts are that one day soon a beast of his own will do much the same.
When Aegon claps a heavy hand upon his shoulder, steering him forward, and claiming a dragon has been found for him, he does his best to remain calm. He is used to his brother and nephews’ cruel japes at his expense. But as he stands at the top of the slope to the Dragonpit, he cannot help the way his heart races with excitement at the possibility that it might be true.
His hopes are dashed when a pig is led out to him, trussed up in wings, having been jokingly named “the pink dread”. He bows his head at the raucous laughter of Aegon, Jace and Luke around him, humiliation flushing his cheeks for having dared to believe it could be true.
The echoes of Aegon’s mocking pig grunts ring in his ears all the way home, and he stands dejectedly as Alicent delivers yet another scolding for him having dared to disturb Dreamfyre. He is usually silently accepting of her scorn, confident he knows better, and prepared to defy her all over again the next day. However, this time he can no longer bear the injustice of it all.
“They gave me a pig!” He cries, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. “They laughed, they all laughed.”
The warmth of his mother’s embrace does little to comfort the inferno that blazes inside of him. Today is proof of the fact that his own brother does not view him as equal - how could he? Aemond is a second born son and has no dragon. He is worth nothing.
If he is not destined to be a dragonrider, then Aemond decides he will give his all to becoming a fearsome warrior instead. He excels in the training yard with each daily practice, every strike of his wooden sword against the straw stuffed target more ferocious than the last. The proud glint in the eye of Ser Criston Cole as he watches diligently, offering guidance on both stance and technique, serves to spur him on. He will be the best at this, he has to be.
Much to his displeasure, the allotted time for sparring is shared with his nephews. Though they learn under the watchful eye of Ser Harwin Strong, there is still a competitive element, and an underlying sense of animosity between Criston and Harwin that he does not quite understand.
Aegon later tells him it is because Ser Harwin is the true father of Rhaenyra’s children. He feels a smug sense of satisfaction at being privy to this information, and it brings him and his older brother closer together. The two of them share rare moments of comradery each time they don their armour and pick up their practice blades. It’s the only time that Aemond ever genuinely laughs or smiles.
There is an obvious divide from that point onwards, Targaryens uniting against Strongs, and as the tension grows between the boys, it does between their mentors too, until one day it reaches a boiling point.
At first Aemond titters along with his brother as they watch Criston scuffle with Harwin, but his smile quickly fades upon seeing how valiantly their father fights for them, knowing his own would never do the same for him. As he looks up into the solemn features of Aegon, he knows the sentiment is shared. It is yet another privilege that Rhaenyra’s children possess that he does not have; the love of their father.
They journey to Driftmark when they receive the news that Laena Velaryon has passed away in childbirth. The icy, coastal winds that whip Aemond’s hair around his face as the stone coffin is committed to the sea are as bleak as the mood that envelopes them all. He seeks warmth near the brazier, attempting to catch the eye of Jace, who stands on the opposite side. Despite the tension between them, he hopes to offer condolences, knowing the loss of both Ser Harwin and his aunt play heavily upon his nephew’s mind.
He realises it is a futile gesture the moment that Jace turns away in disgust, and once more Aemond is reminded of how alone he truly is, that he has nothing. Luke will inherit Driftmark, and their mother has betrothed Helaena to Aegon. Luke snivels at what he is offered, claiming that when Driftmark passes to him it means everyone will have died. Aegon scoffs at the notion of being married to Helaena, claiming they have nothing in common.
It angers Aemond, to be overlooked in favour of those who are so ungrateful for all they have. If he were set to inherit anything, he would do everything in his power to prove he is worthy of it and bear the title with honour. If his mother had betrothed his sister to him, he would do his duty and ensure the match produces heirs that would make House Targaryen proud.
His attention is drawn to the clifftop when he sees the spread of enormous wings and hears the mighty rumble of the creature atop it. Vhagar. Laena Velaryon’s dragon is now riderless, and the pull he feels towards her is one he simply cannot ignore. At last, he has found his purpose and his desire to claim a dragon is reinvigorated with new strength.
Aemond waits until nightfall. Sea spray has made the rocks slippery beneath his feet, and he ascends carefully, though determined, towards the top of the cliff where Vhagar roosts. Windswept and breathless by the time he reaches the top, he stands awestruck at the sleeping dragon. Even partially submerged in sand, she is a magnificent sight to behold. She had appeared massive when looking at her from above, but it does nothing to prepare him for the sheer scale of her up close. She is gargantuan.
For a moment, icy fingers of fear grip Aemond’s heart, and he considers simply turning back, he has made a dangerous mistake. He shakes the thought from his mind the moment it presents itself.
I am no craven.
His approach is tentative, palms outstretched to communicate that he does not present a threat, as the elderly beast grumbles and shakes sand from her back. He stares transfixed as she opens her jaws, the white hot inferno that swirls within their depths makes that of Dreamfyre’s seem like a mere campfire. He feels as though he is looking into the very mouth of the Seven Hells themselves, but instead of fear Aemond feels kinship. Vhagar is without purpose, as is he, until now.
“Lykirī,” he calls out, the wind carrying half the sound away with it. Yet she hears, and she stills, eyeing the child before her with keen curiosity. Be calm.
Emboldened by her calmness at his command, Aemond steps closer, fingertips ghosting against the heat that radiates from her scales.
“Dohaerās, Vhagar,” he tells her, voice trembling. This is the same dragon ridden by the great warrior, Visenya, the conqueror’s wife. She is battle hardened, and with the smallest of movements could snuff out his short life. Serve.
The faintest sound of displeasure reverberates through Vhagar’s body, yet she remains still. Aemond’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he grips the ropes attached to her saddle and begins to pull himself up. If he had thought the climb to the top of the cliff difficult, it proves nothing compared to this. His arms ache with exertion, the expanse of the great beast he is attempting to summit is vaster than anything he has ever climbed before.
By the time he pulls himself into the saddle, Aemond’s palms are red raw with rope burn and his skin is damp with perspiration. There is barely time for him to catch his breath though, as the moment Vhagar feels him settle on her back, she rises to her feet, vast quantities of sand slipping from her back and wings in drifts.
The movement startles Aemond, and he fears he will fall. His sore hands cling tightly to her reins as he shouts his final command to her. 
“Sōvēs.” Fly.
As she rises into the air with an effortless flap of her wings, he feels as though he has left his stomach on the ground below. The rush upwards is dizzying, frightening and exhilarating all at once. Aemond begins to laugh as he grows used to the weightless sensation of every ebb and flow through the air as it whistles past his ears, and chills his skin to the bone. He is finally complete, he has his dragon, and for the first time in his life he is genuinely happy.
That happiness is short-lived.
The moment he reaches solid ground, his cousins, Baela and Rhaena, are waiting for him, alongside Jace and Luke. He had anticipated this, and is well prepared.
“It’s him!” Rhaena shouts as soon as she sees him.
“It’s me,” he responds calmly, confident there is nothing to be done now that Vhagar is his.
“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!”
“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now.”
“She was mine to claim!”
“Then you should have claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride? It would suit you.”
He is startled when Rhaena angrily charges towards him, though he is bigger than her and pushes her to the ground with ease. A punch from her sister, Baela, catches him off guard, the pain in his face enraging him and causing him to hit back so hard she falls over.
“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” He snarls angrily.
Jace and Luke rush at him, and in a moment of confidence Aemond thinks he has bested the both of them, until all four children knock him down and begin to rain their fists down upon him.
He is the rider of the world’s largest dragon, and his new found confidence coupled with the surge of adrenaline allows him to fight them all back. He grasps a rock, holding it above Luke’s head as he grasps him tightly by the collar.
“You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did. Bastards!” He hisses.
“My father is still alive!” Luke wails.
Aemond smirks, rock still held above his sobbing nephew, and he glances to Jace. “He does not know, does he, Lord Strong?”
Jace unsheathes a dagger, to the protestations of both Rhaena and Baela, and the distraction is enough for Aemond to knock it from his hand. His dedication in the training yard has paid off and he quickly gets the better of Jace, snatching up the rock once more, prepared to bring it down upon his skull should he try to attack him again.
In Aemond’s mind, the matter is settled, they should accept what has happened and retire to bed.
Unfortunately, his nephews do not share the sentiment. He winces, staggering backwards as Jace throws sand in his face, and before he has had time to fully recover, Luke is racing towards him, Jace’s dagger in hand.
The pain is excruciating as his nephew slashes upwards, and suddenly his vision shows blackness on one side, instead of his surroundings. He falls to his knees, a shriek of agony leaving him as blood seeps through the fingers of the hand he clasps to one side of his face.
His only focus is the searing, torturous pain he feels, waves of nausea rippling through his prone body, until a clamour of armour alerts him to the presence of the Kingsguard. As a knight kneels beside him, coaxing his hand away, his pale, horrified expression and exclamation of “Gods be good” are all Aemond needs to know that his face is ruined forever.
The fire in the hall of Driftmark is warm against his skin, and he does his best to focus on that sensation instead of that of the Maester extracting his eye from his skull. Though he has been dosed with milk of the poppy, he still feels every cut, every tug, and the pierce of the needle as it’s pulled through his skin repeatedly to stitch up the wound.
Aemond is unsure if it is the milk of the poppy that dulls his senses, or the satisfaction he feels at having claimed the world’s largest dragon, but he does not feel anger or sadness as he expects he would have when he is told his eye is lost forever.
When his mother snatches a knife and charges towards Rhaenyra, he is certain she has more blood of the dragon coursing through her veins than his coward of a father does. She is willing to risk everything to avenge his disfigurement, while Viserys makes excuses and appears more affronted at his eldest daughter’s children being called bastards. The loss of Aemond’s eye seems of little importance to him.
It is in that moment that Aemond feels the tiny semblance of respect he had for his father wither and die. As he takes in the harrowed expressions of Alicent, Aegon and Helaena, he knows they are all he has left.
“Do not mourn me, mother,” he says softly, rising to comfort her, though unsteady on his feet as he adjusts to his partial sightedness. “I may have lost an eye, but I have gained a dragon.”
A scar mars the flesh of Aemond’s face, but also ravages its way through the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra and her children leave King’s Landing, settling upon Dragonstone with Daemon and his daughters. Meanwhile, the health of Viserys continues to decline and the instances he is not bedridden grow fewer. Aemond does not miss his presence.
Worry hangs over his mother, a permanent shroud of anxiety, while Aegon becomes more debaucherous, sinking further into his cups with each passing day. Helaena retreats deeper into herself, rarely speaking unless spoken to, and bristles at any initiation of physical touch.
Slowly, Aemond heals, though it is not without struggle. He must learn to do everything anew. His favourite books become a chore to read, no longer able to pore over their pages for as long without suffering a terrible ache in his head.
Criston has to begin his training with the sword all over again. There is a newfound blind spot to account for when he fights. Not only does he have to learn how to balance, pivot and wield his weapon with accuracy, he also has to develop hyper vigilance and an acute awareness of where his opponent is at all times, to prevent them from drifting to the side from which he cannot see, and besting him.
Even flying on dragonback is difficult, though he only has one flight to compare it to. He learns fast, and is grateful that Vhagar’s advanced age makes her placid and more forgiving than a younger mount might be. When Aemond is airborne he can almost forget his disfigurement entirely, until he returns to the ground and the world is half blackness once more.
It is enough to make Aemond want to scream in frustration and give up at times. However, he is accustomed to a life of feeling out of place, of having to work harder than everyone else to prove his worth. There is nothing to be gained from a defeatist attitude, so he hardens himself to the challenges he faces, determined to be better with one eye than he was with two.
If his vision of the world is now limited, then he will simply expand his mind beyond that. He loses himself in tomes of history and philosophy, ignoring the dull pain that plagues his skull as he reads into the small hours.
In the training yard, he is quick to learn to keep Criston within his line of sight at all times, and wields his sword viciously, relentlessly, always striving to be faster, stronger, more precise. The proud look upon the Knight’s face means little to him now. The only person he means to prove anything to is himself. 
He reasons that a warrior must appear as fearsome as they fight, and takes to wearing a sapphire in the empty socket of his eye, when it is not covered by a patch.
The single matter that Aemond is never able to quite grasp is that of the fairer sex. Aegon has always seemed to have an overly indulgent interest in women, moreso what lies between their legs, but he has never understood his brother’s obsession with fornication. He has read about the mechanics of it in books, and the idea makes his lip curl in disgust. However, he reasons that Aegon is older, and perhaps his own appetite will develop in much the same way as he ages.
Aegon reasons that women’s skin is soft, they smell nice, and when you find one that has the perfect pair of tits and legs then there is little else that matters. While it is agreeable to Aemond that women are indeed more pleasant to look upon than men, he questions why he should not take an interest in their education or how they like to pass the time. His brother argues that once you are sheathed inside a woman, it is not what is in their mind that matters in the slightest.
Upon Aemond’s thirteenth name day, Aegon slaps him on the back and informs him that it is “time to get it wet”. The very idea makes his guts churn with unease, yet he dons the clothes of common folk just the same, pulling a hood over his head, and allows his brother to guide him to the Street of Silk.
The walk through Flea Bottom reeks of urine, with men staggering half drunk through the narrow cobbled streets, while women in varying states of undress beckon them forward into darkened hovels. Aemond keeps his head bowed, dreading what is to come, and is thankful when the establishment that his older brother guides him to looks slightly more respectable than the half a dozen they have passed by already.
The pleasure house is dimly lit and the heady scent of cheap perfume burns his nostrils, though it barely covers the smell of another undesirable stench that he assumes is the byproduct of what goes on here. He half wonders if it will stick to his clothing, much like the smell of sulphur and ash does when he returns from dragonback. He sincerely hopes not. 
His throat runs dry when Aegon staggers away with a busty woman, full of giggles, leaving him alone. The brothel’s madame has a kind smile, though it does not meet her eyes, and when she places her hand upon his shoulder it makes him shudder. He feels her touch there like a brand long after she has taken it away.
“Choose any of my girls that you like,” she tells him.
Timidly he eyes all of them. He wants none of them, but how can he say that?
When he hesitates, she chooses for him, pushing him towards a room with a girl that cannot be much older than he is. Her hair is the colour of straw, her skin reeks of the same perfume that lingers thick within the air, and there is wine upon her breath.
The fireplace burns low in the room as he lays upon the bed, and he keeps his eye fixed upon it until it is over. He has enjoyed none of it, the finish feeling little more to him than the satisfaction he experiences when scratching an itch. He cannot understand why Aegon makes such a fuss about it, if that is all there is to it then he never wants to partake in such an act of vulgarity ever again.
He leaves without saying a word, and walks as quickly as his legs will carry him back to the Red Keep. In the bathtub that evening, he scrubs until his skin is red raw, wanting nothing more than to erase every trace of what he has endured that day.
When he is served his favourite meal for his name day feast, roasted haunch of venison, he finds he has no appetite. Sickly perfume fills his nose and turns his stomach, and he leaves his plate untouched.
From that day forth, Aemond decides that he has no taste for depravity, and dedicates his time to reading, training with the sword and taking flight on Vhagar. Despite the nagging ache at the back of his mind that Aegon is set to succeed their father when he passes away, despite neither wanting nor deserving it, he feels a sense of fulfillment in knowing that he is making both their mother and House Targaryen proud.
There are few books in the Keep’s library he has not read at least twice, and he trains daily in the yard with Criston, now at a point where he is the victor in almost every sparring match.
The years pass, and Aemond is content with solitude, assuming that is his lot in life. Fire and blood course hotly in his veins, and in spite of his disfigurement he feels every inch a true Targaryen.
Viserys deteriorates to the point that Aemond’s grandsire and Hand of the King, Otto, now oversees most of the royal duties, and he has begun in earnest to plan with Alicent for Aegon’s eventual coronation. It comes as no shock to Aemond the day that he is beckoned to the Small Council Chamber, though he is surprised to find it is just his grandsire that sits at the table, there is not even a cup bearer present.
“I trust you are aware of the plans to crown Aegon once your father passes?” Otto asks, once Aemond is seated in the chair nearest to him.
Aemond sits up straight against the backrest, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, as he regards Otto impassively. “I am.”
“Good,” Otto nods, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “Then I am sure you must know of your own duty to the realm.”
Aemond purses his lips, eyeing the older man carefully. “I will do what I must to ensure Aegon’s claim to the throne goes unchallenged.”
Otto sighs, leaning back and regarding Aemond with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Rhaenyra is sure to challenge your brother’s birthright, as your father foolishly named her heir, but there are means to remedy that.”
Aemond says nothing, waiting for Otto to say what he means. He watches as he fills both their wine cups, before setting the jug down. He takes a deep drink from his own, but Aemond leaves his untouched, wishing his grandsire would just get to the point.
Otto clicks his tongue before continuing. “To strengthen Aegon’s claim, we must curry favour with the other Great Houses of the realm.”
Aemond lowers his gaze, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the armrests of his chair. “You wish for me to marry.”
“Yes, Aemond, you are to be betrothed.”
The tone of voice in which Otto says this has such finality, it sounds as though a match has already been decided. His eye flickers upwards to meet the unyielding gaze of his grandsire.
“To who?”
“Your mother and I thought it best not to present you with suitors, we know you would not enjoy such a spectacle.”
You know all of them would take one look at me and be horrified by the very notion of being married to me.
Otto continues, “So we have chosen for you. The daughter of Lord Rickon Stark, Lorra. She is a pretty girl, and having the allegiance of a Great House of the North will weaken Rhaenyra’s claim.”
Aemond stays silent as his mind races.
House Stark. Their sigil is a dire wolf, their words are Winter is Coming.
Beyond that, he knows nothing of Northerners, what could he possibly learn about his betrothed from a book anyway?
He wets his lips, resigned to his fate. “When?”
“She will arrive in King’s Landing in two weeks, so that you can begin your courtship of her.”
“I will do my duty.”
“I trust that you will.”
Aemond retires to his chambers for the remainder of the day. He had anticipated that he would have to marry to form a political alliance at some point, however, the thought rattles him all the same. 
He is a solitary creature by nature, what on earth will he do with a wife? He supposes life will stay much the same, if his mother and father and Aegon and Helaena are to be used as examples - both couples married, yet living entirely separate lives. It is a mere formality. He will not be expected to spend time with her.
They will be expected to produce heirs, however. Nervousness swirls in his gut at the thought. He does not want to endure what happened to him at the brothel each time he couples with his wife, yet he cannot leave her childless either.
Lorra is a highborn lady, however, not a common whore, so perhaps he will be able to find pleasure in the act. Doubt niggles in his mind as he ponders his inexperience. A Prince must know what he is doing if he is to produce children, and Aemond possesses neither experience nor interest in the act of procreation. He will need to prepare if he is to perform his marital duties as anticipated without embarrassing himself or his wife.
The thought of returning to Flea Bottom makes him shiver in revulsion. He has no desire to part with coin for an act that sickens him. He will need to find an alternative.
There are plenty of maidservants around the Keep who are pretty enough, and of a similar age to him. He does not wish to be like his brother, however, and will not take what is not freely given. He has observed the way that Aegon expresses interest in the women that attend to them during mealtimes and decides to deploy some of the same tactics, though in a much more subtle manner.
At supper the following evening, he spots a young woman who is pleasing to him. She has a slender neck and pretty face, her large eyes framed by thick lashes. He watches her carefully as she rounds the table, filling each cup with wine, and when finally she approaches him, he deliberately reaches forward, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her wrist as she pours from the jug she holds. She glances down at him and he looks up, holding her gaze, the faintest of smirks on his face. A slight blush creeps up her neck, dusting its way across her cheekbones and he knows she is interested.
He spends the rest of the meal catching her eye whenever he can, and when the evening draws to a close, he lingers in the doorway, beckoning her with the slightest tip of his head when she looks at him, before walking back to his bedchamber. Aemond does not have to wait long for the knock at his door.
“Your grace, will you be needing anything else this evening?” She asks with a polite smile.
He closes the door behind them, steeling himself before turning to face her. “You understand why you are here?”
She nods, reaching up to cup his face as she leans in. He turns away, pulling back slightly.
“I have no need for you to kiss me.”
She nods in understanding and moves towards the bed, slipping out of her clothes. Aemond stands in silence as he watches her disrobe. She is attractive to look at, much more desirable than the girl he had coupled with in Flea Bottom. Smooth skinned, with subtle curves and firm breasts. He wonders how many others have looked upon her in the same manner that he has.
“Lay down,” he instructs her, once she is fully bare before him.
She moves to position herself face down, but Aemond steps forward, halting her actions.
“Let me look at you.”
“As you wish, your grace,” she whispers, blushing again, and repositions onto her back.
Aemond stands over her, his eye raking over her form as he takes in the way her chest rises and falls with every breath, the way the narrowness of her waist expands outwards towards her hips.
Tentatively, he reaches forward, fingers trailing lightly over the plush flesh of her inner thigh, tugging gently.
Obediently, she spreads her legs and he sucks in a breath at what glistens between them, curiosity guiding his actions as he spreads his fingers through the slick folds. She sighs in pleasure, and he looks back up at her face. Her lips are parted, eyes hooded with desire. Admittedly, though this is a much better experience than what he’d endured when he was thirteen, he still feels little in the way of excitement. Aemond appreciates that she lays there quietly, however, allowing him to take things at his own pace, and he feels his body respond to her regardless of his lack of emotion.
When his cock strains almost painfully against the lacings of his breeches, he unfastens them, crawling over the maidservant to cage her body in with his. She feels better against him than the whore had, her skin is more supple and her scent not quite so overpowering. He grunts as he pushes himself inside of her, her tight, wet heat gripping every inch of him as he slides forward.
The inside of her is different from the grasp of his own hand. Aemond is no stranger to the act of self pleasure, using it as a means to clear his mind or lull himself to sleep on nights when rest evades him. It is not a carnal act for him though, he simply focuses on the sensation, guiding himself to release. Despite the pleasant warmth of her body, he does not feel driven to desperate passion as he had anticipated, as he has so often heard Aegon describe.
As he rocks his hips into hers, back and forth, the growing ache he experiences is nice enough, but it does not light a fire within him. He is simply rutting against another person. The dulcet sounds that fall from her lips as he pistons into her sound too performative, and he feels resentment as he looks upon her face, just wanting to put an end to it.
He speeds up, and her sounds grow louder. Annoyance prickles at his skin.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.
She falls silent and the room fills with the sound of the slap of his skin against hers, until finally he spills inside of her with a quiet gasp. He is quick to withdraw from her, standing and tucking himself away.
“You can go now,” he tells her, turning away.
He doesn’t watch as she dresses and quietly leaves his chamber. Aemond feels disappointment that he is unable to derive pleasure from such a carnal act. He has read that it is supposed to evoke excitement within a person, and from the way Aegon behaves he knows it is certainly true. So why does such a feeling evade him?
It matters not, he supposes. He will treat his wife in the same way he has the maidservant this evening. He will not take her by force, and he will be gentle with her. The act will be for the sole purpose of producing heirs, besides that they will live their lives as they please. He did not choose her, and she did not choose him, so he is confident that this will be an arrangement she finds satisfactory.
The next two weeks pass by without incident. Aemond reads, he trains and he flies, and thoughts of his betrothal scarcely enter his mind.
Upon the day of Lorra’s arrival to the Red Keep, he gathers in the Great Hall, with Alicent, Otto, Aegon and Helaena to greet her upon her arrival. He stands straight, hands clasped firmly behind his back, eye scanning the room impatiently. He hates the formality of it all, and wonders what could possibly be taking such a long time.
He will, of course, be dutiful and stand here for as long as necessary, but irritability simmers within him as he exhales heavily through his nose, wishing to be anywhere else right now, the library, the training yard, on dragonback. Such a display seems wholly unnecessary for an arrangement that is a mere formality.
When finally the doors open to the steps that ascend into the Hall, he faces forward, eye fixed upon the Kingsguard that file in. Until he sees her.
Draped in a cerulean cloak, trimmed with grey fur, she seems as though she is floating, rather than walking as she approaches. Her ivory skin is tinged with the faintest of pink against her cheeks and the curls of her ebony hair are braided down her back.
Aemond’s throat runs dry, his heart pounding quickly against his ribcage, and he realises he is holding his breath. The last time he felt such a powerful combination of fear, awe and longing had been the night he had first laid eyes upon Vhagar. It unsettles him, and he is grateful that his hands remain behind his back, otherwise he is certain that she would be able to see how they tremble.
“Lady Lorra of House Stark,” comes the announcement to the Hall, but it sounds distant and far away to Aemond as he stands, transfixed by her.
His blood pumps like liquid fire through his veins. Her eyes, so blue they could almost be sapphires, meet his and he feels a shiver run through him. After a lifetime of resonating in the warmth of flames, he is chilled by the ice that is reflected back at him.
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scuttling · 10 months
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Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader
Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)
Keep reading below or link to AO3!
Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far. 
They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines. 
He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is. 
He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.
It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.
She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days. 
That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around. 
She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.
She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying. 
She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.
When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.
She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.
So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain. 
She’s so, so stupid.
He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.
She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)
She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.  
“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face. 
“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.
“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?” 
“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.” 
Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.
“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.” 
He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear. 
Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay. 
“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.” 
Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe. 
She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob. 
“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.” 
He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.
“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.” 
He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?
She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high. 
She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure. 
She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him! 
He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner. 
She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night. 
Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM. 
It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk. 
“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked. 
“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.” 
“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.” 
He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob. 
“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.
“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.
“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.”  He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”
His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.
“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?” 
“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders. 
“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.” 
He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.
He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.
“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”
“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.
“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry. 
“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”
They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead. 
He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether. 
“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before. 
“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods. 
She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.
She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be. 
She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table. 
“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”
“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head. 
“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”
The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.
She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm. 
“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around. 
Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush. 
“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.” 
“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…” 
“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind. 
“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.
“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true.  “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.” 
“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?
It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right. 
He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything. 
Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild. 
“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side. 
Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.
He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road. 
“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least. 
She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw. 
“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?” 
She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.
He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s. 
She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose. 
She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…
She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped. 
The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying. 
She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.
She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips. 
“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.” 
“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.” 
“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.” 
“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.” 
“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home. 
He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.
“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.
“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.” 
He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.
“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.
“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.” 
“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand. 
“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.
“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.
“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.
“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?” 
“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.
“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like… 
Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before. 
“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.” 
“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.
“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his. 
She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.
She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it. 
“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life. 
That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.
“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek. 
They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck. 
He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers. 
They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart. 
“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life. 
Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.
He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind. 
Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head. 
There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss. 
It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure. 
“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?” 
“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his. 
They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans. 
She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.  
“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap. 
When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body. 
Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin. 
It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together. 
“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck. 
“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster. 
“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.” 
Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.
“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”
He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.
He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.
When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed. 
She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has. 
The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder. 
It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter. 
“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”
“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head. 
“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.” 
“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but… 
She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.
“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.
“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.” 
Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.
“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them. 
“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.” 
“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.” 
He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.
“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before. 
“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.” 
She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs. 
“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?” 
“I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.
“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.” 
That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.
“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs. 
Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long. 
“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”
“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?” 
“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…” 
“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head. 
She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere. 
“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly. 
“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.” 
Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned. 
“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it. 
“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.” 
It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?” 
There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?” 
“You’re alright.” 
It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to. 
“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.
She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.
“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.
“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.
“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”
She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest. 
“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.” 
“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention. 
“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.” 
“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one. 
“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.
“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this. 
“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.” 
She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage. 
While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them. 
“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet. 
“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice. 
“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.
When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.
That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.
They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch. 
“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?” 
She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea. 
“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?” 
“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t. 
She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place. 
“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.” 
“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.” 
“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs. 
“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug. 
“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.” 
“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it  sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.” 
She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes. 
The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town. 
She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s. 
“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”
“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement. 
Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.
She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back. 
They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.
“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”
He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.
“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.
“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.
“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers. 
She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home. 
She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.
“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.” 
“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm. 
Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days. 
All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line. 
She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack. 
“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.” 
She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.
“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.
“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.
“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”
“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress. 
“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?” 
He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.
She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects. 
“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone. 
“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?” 
“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.
“Just kind of feels right.” 
He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.
The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious. 
These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.
When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.
She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss. 
God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands. 
Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back. 
“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.
She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.
What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?
“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.
“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.” 
“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts. 
“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes. 
“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.
“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together. 
They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again. 
Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength. 
Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders. 
Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.
“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.” 
Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together. 
Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.
His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away. 
“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips. 
“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.” 
“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication. 
“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh. 
“Yes, oh—”
Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”
He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her. 
“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same. 
He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.
“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.
“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.
“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.” 
He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.
“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”
A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.
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haechwrites · 11 months
Text
sugar, butter, & the royal crown - L.DH
prince!lee donghyuck x baker fem!OC (no name!)
synopsis: prince donghyuck only has one princess on his mind, but she's not actually a princess. she's just the royal baker's granddaughter.
wc: ~17.1k
warnings: pet names used only so i don't have to namedrop lol. no other warnings tho!
A/N: this is my second longest fic i've actually finished hehe i'm really happy with this one and now i wish i had a prince haechan lol
-- some things to note first:
THIS FIC IS WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON. if you see ♔, that means it's in haechan's pov written in third person!
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
As a child, life is all about the simple pleasures. It didn’t matter that I’d come home to a dark house carrying the faint snores of my mother. I was still reeling from the sweet taste of mangoes on my tongue, the slight dusting of sugar in my hair, and the lingering soreness from laughing in my cheeks. I’d quickly wash up, give my mom a quick peck on the forehead, and tuck myself in bed. Before I know it, the sun greets me again and I meet my grandma outside as she leads me to the palace. This was my routine and for my young brain, there was nothing ever wrong with it.
My grandma is the head baker at the palace. Since the separation of my parents, I have spent my days with my grandma at work. It was all I knew and I was content with it. Every sunrise, I’d have 30 minutes before I had to meet her outside. Together, we’d walk to the palace’s servant entrance and my grandma would give our favorite guard, Doyun, a warm smile and a promise to slip an extra pastry in his meal for letting me tag along. I’d walk past him with a finger to my lips asking him to be sworn to secrecy. He’d always return it with a wink and a small laugh. It was our little promise, though I’m sure no one would actually mind an extra guest on the grounds – especially a mere 7-year-old. 
Once inside the kitchen, I strap on the apron that the palace’s tailor secretly made specifically for me. Grandma told me that the busiest times in the kitchen were the mornings, so I always sit in the corner to let her start the day. I occupy myself for at least an hour before my friend comes to play with me. His entrance is always the same: a secret knock on the side door and a gleaming smile when I open it for him. 
Today he’s dressed up in a super fancy garment, almost like a uniform. I had never seen him in anything other than his casual button-up and pants, typically covered by an extra adult-sized apron we’d find laying around.
“Donghyuck! What are you wearing?”
“Princess!,” He’d squeal, pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s my special outfit.”
“Is it your birthday?” My nose scrunches in confusion, looking him up and down. Even if it was his birthday, I can’t imagine his servant parents could afford such expensive fabric. 
Donghyuck laughs before yanking a spare apron off its hook and pulling it over his head. 
“Nooo. I have something important to do today. That’s why I’m wearing this,” He explains, looking a little nervous.
“Oh wow. You look like the King. Or like a prince,” I say jokingly, but Donghyuck freezes. His eyes are wide like the time he accidentally ate the last mango tart I was saving.
Then he breaks out into an awkward laugh and smiles wide at me, “I am a prince… because you’re my princess.” He says with utmost confidence, before grabbing my hands. We’re standing the way I position my two play dolls during a pretend wedding ceremony.
I quickly turn the shade of freshly baked cherry pies and I tear my hands out of his hold.
“Donghyuck-ah! How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” I huff, crossing my arms. 
He snickers, “Hmmm… maybe one hundred more times.”
“One hundred more times?!”
“Yes, if you can even count that high,” he smirks, instantly easing the tension from earlier. He plops down onto my stool and looks up at me. “So what are we playing today? Or should we read? Or does Baker Grandma need help?”
I aimlessly kick the leg of the stool, thinking about what we could do today as I can see him anxiously bounce around in his seat. He looks like he’s running on limited time today. Sometimes Donghyuck disappears on me in the middle of our hangouts or doesn’t show up at all. I just assume his parents need help with their tasks just like how Grandma often calls me to help her bake. He’s never told me where in the palace they work despite the years we’ve been hanging out. 
“What if we help your parents today?” The minute the question leaves my lips, I hear a snort from the kitchen staff and Donghyuck goes into a coughing fit as if the flour seeped into his lungs.
I begin to feel myself turn red again and wondering what was so wrong till I feel a familiar warm hand on my shoulder.
“Ah Donghyuck, you’re here today?” My grandma looks at his attire with a suspicious gaze. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Her hands are on her hips and it feels similar to the times she’s caught me using the oven on my own.
Donghyuck starts shyly giggling while fiddling with the oversized apron my grandma is reaching to remove. I stand there in confusion as he looks like a puppy that was told he wasn’t allowed to play or have a treat. I want to help him but the look on grandma’s face is too scary to fight.
She’s slowly ushering him out the door and I’m holding his apron in my hands, watching him pout.
“Bye Hyuck,” I mutter, sad that our day was cut short before it even began. This was the quickest that one has ended.
“Byeee Princess,” He says with as much despair in his voice. He always has to be a little more dramatic than me. I giggle and wave him goodbye, spirits lifted by his antics. I see a smile grow on his face at the sound of my laugh before my grandma closes the door.
My loneliness returns as I stare at the wooden panels of the side door. 
“Did he have to go?” I ask, slumping back onto the stool he was just on.
My grandma turns to me with a quizzical look. I can’t tell if she’s angry, sad, or disappointed and then she’s crouched down in front of me. Her flour-coated hands are resting on my lap.
“Donghyuck got called by his parents. They’re very important people,” She starts slowly. Grandma has never talked about Donghyuck’s family or personal life before. It was never brought up in the past because I assumed he was just like me. Now that we’re finally beginning to talk about it, the hesitant look on her face makes me not want to know anymore. 
“Guards?,” I ask. To me, Doyun is the most important worker in the castle as he freely lets me in and out. Maybe guards earn enough to adorn such fancy clothes I saw Donghyuck wear.
“No, honey,” She glances back at her staff, and I notice they’ve been watching. They give me a reassuring smile, but there’s uneasiness quivering on their lips.
“Donghyuck… Donghyuck is the Prince.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
They found him. Donghyuck’s personal guards find him where they usually do when he escapes his tasks, and that would be at the palace kitchen. This time, they find him outside the door, rather than inside scarfing down mango tarts. 
Without any hesitation and with no room for him to trick them and run, they grab the tiny prince and bring him to the meeting he was meant to attend with the King. It was meant to be the first glimpse of his life as a future ruler, attending meetings with fellow diplomats and other boring princely things. Donghyuck does not understand why he can’t spend his day playing like a regular 7-year-old with his pretty friend from the kitchen. 
Despite having complained and whined his way out of most duties, Donghyuck had reached the level of maturity to know that this one he couldn’t fight. I mean, the tailor adjusted his royal attire just for this one-hour meeting. After having come to terms with sitting in boredom for an hour, Donghyuck did not expect to be dragged into more as he was about to skip his way over to the kitchen once the diplomats left.
“And where are you off to now, Donghyuck?”
He freezes in his tracks and a shiver ripples down his spine at the sound of her voice. He’s been caught again.
He spins around, plastering the biggest smile possible on his face. “Nowhere, Mother. Just strolling around until my tutoring session.” He hopes she doesn’t recognize this path to the kitchen.
“And is your tutoring session located in the kitchen today?” She asks, words dripping with a patronizing attitude. Nothing Donghyuck isn’t used to.
“Oh! I wanted to see if I could get a quick snack before. My brain needs food, right?” He hides his crossed fingers behind his back, praying she doesn’t call his bluff.
“And you’re not just going there to see that girl, are you?” She takes a step closer and Donghyuck is scared she can see the drip of sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead. How did she know about Princess? He wonders if his guard ratted him out… even after Donghyuck gave him half of his tart. The betrayal, he scoffs. 
“There’s no girl, Mother.” Donghyuck decides it's best to deny it and stare straight at his feet. 
“You are correct, there will never be a girl. Instead, there will be a future queen. A princess for now and you need to begin meeting our potential suitresses,” The queen firmly states, grabbing his shoulders to steer him towards the library. Before he could stop himself, his chest bubbles with heat, and his brain is fogged with confusion. He can’t imagine anyone by his side but her.
“Why can’t she be my princess?”
The words spill out from his royal lips before he could catch them. There’s no missing the instant look of rage and disgust on the Queen’s face when her son’s true desires are revealed. Desires of the heart, but a complete disgrace to his duties as the Prince. Her eyes grow colder and her skin pales till her blush is the brightest hue on her cheeks. 
Donghyuck feels his throat go dry and the crossed fingers behind his back unlock. No luck can help him now.
“No more kitchen visits, Prince Donghyuck.”
The queen’s words are final. His shoulders slump lower and his feet are heavy as he drags them across the cobblestone trailing toward the library. It feels like there was a wall that slammed into the ground behind him, forbidding him from seeing her again.
“Yes, ma’am. No more.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
^ FIFTEEN YEARS LATER ^
The only memory of my childhood that lingered was the heat of the oven. Like I did every day at the age of 7, I continued to bake to keep that fire alive. There were days where the warmth was cooler than normal and my urge to bake waivered. Days like when my grandma stopped showing up outside my house every day a half hour after sunrise. Days like when my mother decided I was too much to raise when I stopped spending my time at the palace. And days like the one when I moved out of the city to live with my dad. 
However, there were also days where the flame was ablaze. Days like when I got my own personal baking set. Days like when I got accepted into a baking school. And days like today, where I return to the city that pushed me out fifteen years ago to open a bakery. Despite the dismal circumstances of the day I left, I always felt the urge to return. It never felt right that I moved in the first place. Confusion still envelops my mind when I think about how my grandma stopped taking me to the palace for unsaid reasons and how my mother was incapable of taking care of me due to it. There had to be something more going on. 
Outside of this mystery of my childhood, my main goal was to return with my own bakery specializing in my soon-to-be infamous mango tarts. I had visited the city for the first time since my move before to scope out bakery locations. But today was the day that I officially move in, to both my home and bakery, and kickstart my business. My first task was to put up a sign displaying the bakery’s name.
“Oh my goodness… so it is true!”
Warmth blooms in my chest; I would recognize that voice anywhere. I flip around and I’m greeted with her same sugary sweet smile. My grandma looks just as she did before but her hair is dusted white like the flour she worked with. But she still smelled like spiced apple pie, my eyes watered in disbelief. 
“Grandma!” I ran into her open arms and I could feel her chuckle. 
“Oh honey, it’s been much too long. Look at you now… a beautiful woman before my eyes,” She’s smiling widely and I can see her eyes take in my features. Fifteen years worth of change and growth. 
“I’m sorry we haven’t been in contact much. I could barely find the time to tell you I was coming back.”
“It’s alright. All that matters is you’re here,” Grandma rubs my arms reassuringly. “And are you here alone? Or have you moved back with a lover?” The childish gleam on her face makes me giggle and I quickly correct her that I’m single and focusing on my baking.
“Ah, I see. In that case, you must have more time than I anticipated. You must come with me to work one of these days. Just like old times. Consider it research for your bakery.” The way she sways with excitement makes it hard for me to turn it down, and I can’t deny the flutter in my heart at the idea of stepping foot onto the palace grounds again. It was where it all started for me. I agreed with a smile.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
After a week of prepping the bakery, I decided to visit my grandma. To be completely honest, outside of the work I had to do, my nerves did play a role in keeping me from going earlier. But now that I’ve decided I’ve run out of excuses, I’m walking to the servant entrance of the palace a little before noon to give my grandmother the morning to solely focus on work. It makes me smile knowing I still remember the schedule of the palace kitchen. 
The streets surrounding the castle are quiet at this hour. I can still remember the hustle and commotion of the staff in the early morning, lining up to get inside to start their days. It was never daunting to be a young girl surrounded by a diverse array of people. It was thrilling and almost comforting and it was much better than staying home alone. 
When I reach the gates, I feel like I’ve traveled back in time because blocking my path is a young guard who looks eerily like Doyun, the guard I knew from before.
“How can I help you, miss?”
“Hi.” I’m inspecting his face. He has the same colored hair, but it’s parted differently. He has the same warm light brown eyes and his face is a little softer than Doyun’s. My mind can’t help but ask, “I’m sorry if this is a strange question but do you know Guard Doyun?”
His stiff demeanor drops like a curtain and the young guard’s eyes light up, “I’m his son, Yunseo! How do you know my father?” Suddenly I don’t see a guard in uniform, but instead a bright, inviting individual in his place.
“No wonder! I’m the granddaughter of the head baker. I used to greet your father every morning when I was a child.” 
“Oh yes! Yes, she told me you were coming. You can go right along in, just make sure she knows to sneak me an extra sweet treat.” He opens the gates for me.
“Ah like father, like son,” I giggle, slightly bowing to him as I enter.
“Do you remember how to get to the kitchen?”
I stare at the familiar worn cobblestone paths and nod, “I think so.”
The walk to the kitchen is shorter than I remember but the smell wafting from the windows is all the same. I reach the side door and I’m about to knock when I notice it’s creaked slightly open. I hear a voice above all the kitchen noise.
“Gran, please sneak something in my food today so I can get sick and stay in bed for the whole week. I do not want to court these women.” I peek my head in further to take a look at the man speaking. I let out a soft gasp when my eyes land on him.
Outside of his stunning beauty, he looks familiar. His tufts of chestnut brown hair are slightly waved as they curl around the nape of his neck. He often shakes his head to get the bangs out of his face, exposing his tan skin. If I look close enough, he has distinguishable moles on the plush curves of his cheeks. His rosy lips are wrapped around a piece of pastry and even when he’s talking with his mouth full, he’s still attractive. My eyes instantly widen when I notice his outfit: the royal attire.
A squeal escapes my mouth and before I could hide, the door is swung open by my grandma.
“You’re here!”
At the announcement of my arrival, the young man is dusting the crumbs off his hands, and looks like he’s about to make a quick escape. 
“Hi Grandma,” I give her a hug, not minding the flour sticking to my sweater. “I was just about to knock.” I let out a small laugh to hide the fact that I was definitely eavesdropping not moments ago.
“Grandma?” I hear the man say behind her. He decided to stay after realizing it wasn’t one of his guards coming to get him, but instead a pretty woman. An oddly, familiar, pretty woman. 
My grandma bites her lip to keep from smiling any bigger and she grabs my arm to present me to the man.
“Oh my. I forgot you guys know each other! It’s Donghyuck, do you remember, honey? You used to play with him every day as I worked.” The glint in her eyes is something more than just happy nostalgia and I give her a look.
“Pri-... Princess?” When the old nickname leaves his lips, I gasp and feel my cheeks bloom pink. The layers of the handsome man in front of me started to peel and I could see the little boy I spent my early life with. Most of my warmest days were spent with him. But I’m also brought back to one of the colder days of my childhood. The day I found out my childhood best friend was the Prince. 
At first, I didn’t understand why my grandma was so fearful of telling me who he really was. I was ecstatic to hear that Donghyuck was royalty. I was fascinated and curious to see what his life was like and how it compared to being the granddaughter of a palace worker. I soon learned that what I wanted to discover was not so glamorous. Because apparently, his life excluded me. I didn’t piece that together until a few years after my move. Why else did Donghyuck stop showing up and why else was I forbade from going to the palace with my grandma? When I came to the realization, I began to resent him and eventually, completely forgot about him.
“Prince Donghyuck,” I bowed, trying not to show any expression. He had his arm slightly raised like he was about to reach for me but his body stiffened at my curtness. My grandma even looks at me with confusion. “It’s… It’s nice to see you again.”
“Oh, there’s no need to be so polite. You guys were friends!” My grandma squeezes my arms, urging me to get closer. I stay in my place.
“He’s the Prince, Grandma,” I whisper through my teeth and I can tell he hears me by the dejected look on his face. I can’t get myself to look him in the eyes.
“It’s quite alright. I actually have to get going. Prin-... Sorry, It was lovely to see you,” The Prince ducks his head and leaves the way I came in. He looks back at my figure once more, thoughts churning, before he disappears.
My feet remain still and I’m staring at the place he stood. Staring at the pastry he bit into. He’s real and he’s back. And the door he walked through was the same one he used to leave me 15 years ago. The alarms rang in my brain and I quickly shook my head, grabbing a bowl and mixing whatever contents are in it. The faster I stirred, the more I begged my mind to stop thinking about Donghyuck.
“You’re overwhipping the cream.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
On every page he turned to, the words blurred and all Donghyuck could see was her. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She’s much taller now, and he naturally smiles remembering when she used to argue that he was only taller than her by a centimeter. Her hair was also longer and not bound in her classic two braids. Though he didn’t get to see her smile, he was sure that it’s brighter than before. After all, everything about her seemed to have grown more beautiful than before. Donghyuck wonders if he should be calling her “Queen” now with how wonderfully she’s aged. 
A delicate tap on his shoulder forces Donghyuck out of his lovestruck haze. “Prince Donghyuck, are you enjoying your book?”
He remembers that he’s in the library with one of his potential suitresses. He turns to her and almost wants to laugh. For the years that his childhood friend has been gone, it was the memory of her that invaded his mind whenever he was forced to go on these dates. But now that Donghyuck has seen her again in the flesh, he realizes how doomed he is and how these other princesses definitely don’t stand a chance.
During the fifteen years apart, Donghyuck’s gloom exacerbated the Queen’s determination to find him a future queen. Out of all his regular royal responsibilities, his courtships took the most time. He excels in all areas of his duties, but the one he can’t manage to succeed in is getting a wife. From playdates to formal dates, Donghyuck aged and remained single. And both he and the head baker knew why. 
Despite the Queen’s warnings to never enter the kitchen, Donghyuck found himself there every week whether it was to steal extra mango tarts or ask about the baker’s granddaughter. It was usually after failed dates when he’d trudge into the kitchen, completely drained of energy, and beg the baker to talk to him about his first love. Questions about where she is, how she’s doing, and whether she thinks of him spill from his mouth, and the baker would entertain him every time. Even if he only knew and could only remember the child version of her, Donghyuck still managed to compare her to every suitress he met. None of them stood a chance against his princess. And though with time he could recognize how silly this infatuation had gotten, he grew fatigued of courtship and this was the easiest way to go about it. The grandmother was wary of this long overrun connection as well, but at the same time commended him for his commitment to her granddaughter. She also didn’t have the heart to tell him to move on.
And now Donghyuck’s here, on another date and he actually has an image, a real person, to be thinking of. 
“I’m sorry. I don’t think this is going to work out.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“So you are hiding from me?”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” I drop the bowl of frosting at my feet and scramble to pick it up. A pair of far too expensive shoes enter my vision. I shoot up and my heart races, knowing exactly who it is.
“My prince,” I bow, meeting the ground once more. I stand upright and give him a passing smile.
“I like hearing you say that,” The Prince smirks. He swiftly scoops a finger of frosting before popping it in his mouth.
“Formalities,” I respond and I move the bowl out of his reach.
He chuckles and he starts to fiddle with an apron left on the counter.
“So you’ve been visiting at nighttime. Are you actually avoiding me?” He looks at me like he’s challenging me to say no. 
Yes. “No, I just prefer the kitchen at night.” I clutch the frosting bowl tighter and focus my attention on what’s salvageable.
“You mean my kitchen… which you’ve been sneaking into with the help of my guard.” I can feel that he’s moved closer and I wince.
“Yes… I’m sorry. My grandma said it’d be okay and my kitchen at the bakery isn’t finished being built. If you’d like me to stop coming, I can.” I start to untie my apron and his hand catches my wrist.
“No,” He blurts out. “There’s no need. Feel free to use the kitchen.” The Prince raises his hands in the air as if to give me permission. I politely nod and go back to fixing my frosting, ignoring the tingling I feel on my wrist. 
He doesn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he puts on the apron from the counter and leans in to watch.
“Um, what are you doing?” The Prince is tapping the table and humming as he stares at me.
“Hanging out,” He says matter-of-factly. 
“I see,” And that’s all that I can say because who am I to kick the Prince out of his own kitchen? So I just mix and continue doing my thing.
“Just like the old days. You do remember, right?” I make the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. He’s looking at me like his question meant more than just a test of my memory.
“Vaguely… It was a long, long time ago.” A time I don’t wish to relive.
There’s a short pause before The Prince replies.
“Well, I remember. I think I’ll always remember. You were my best friend… And those were probably the best days of my life.” He doesn’t look at me when he says this. In fact, he looks nervous to be admitting it in the first place. 
All I can do is nod, not knowing what to say to his confession. Especially when the feeling I get when I look back on those times is not as positive.
“Anyway… I’m planning on recreating those times.” Without thinking, I meet his eyes and he’s smiling hopefully. “So don’t try to hide from me next time. I’ll be here whenever you are. Think of it as your payment for using the kitchen.” 
The uneasiness and warmth in my stomach are hard to decipher. The thought of spending more time with him is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I try to ease my nerves by mixing even harder and he notices before laughing. 
With my unspoken agreement, we spend the rest of the night in silence, just in each other’s presence. Every now and then he steals a bite of my makings and tries to lighten the air with a poorly made joke. And I don’t hold my laughter back.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“And then, once the frosting is on, you can add the strawberries.” I demonstrate by putting the nicely sliced strawberries on in a thin layer. 
“When are you going to teach me how to make the mango tart?” The Prince pouts and bites the strawberries instead of putting them on the cake. I scowl and move the bowl away from him. 
“When are you going to stop eating my ingredients?”
He smirks and taps the counter, “When are you going to stop using my kitchen?” He tilts his head to the side to goad me.
I roll my lips into my mouth and stuff another strawberry in his face when he laughs. 
“Eat up,” I say sickeningly sweet.
Completely out of my control, my hangouts with Prince Donghyuck have returned. However, this time, I know he’s the prince and instead of every day in the morning, it’s 2 to 3 times a week at night. My excuse is that my kitchen in the bakery isn’t done being built, but to be completely honest, I could have it done by the end of the week. Maybe it’s because I enjoy my time with the Prince or maybe it’s because I actually do want the extra amenities I asked to be installed last minute… who knows? The end conclusion is that I find myself in the palace’s kitchen more often than I intended, and I find myself enjoying the Prince’s company more than I intended.
“Okay, your highness. Do you think you can stack these layers evenly?” 
He gives me a playful salute, mouth full of cream, as he hops off the kitchen counter. He stands by my side and takes the cake from my hands.
“You know… as much as I like hearing you call me ‘your highness,’ why don’t you ever call me by my name anymore?” 
“Because now I know you’re the Prince.” And I don’t know how it feels to have your name roll off my tongue as it did before, I think to myself.
The Prince lets out a low whistle. “Do you see me differently?” He trains his eyes to the level of the cake to get it precisely right. I watch him from above.
“It’s been fifteen years… so yes, I do see you differently.” I move to mix more frosting to coat the cake with.
“Okay,” He nods, thinking about my response. “So me being the Prince isn’t part of it?” He glances at me quickly with what I can assume is worry before he goes to add another layer of cake.
“Mmm… It is. Not a big part, but definitely a part. I think it’s mainly because you’ve grown up, We’ve both grown up. Maybe me more than you,” I tease. He sticks his tongue out at me and I make a face back. “Example number one.”
He finishes putting on the last layer and stands up straight to admire his work.
“What makes me different than before?” He takes the frosting bowl from my hands and begins icing the cake like I’ve taught him a couple of days ago. I take this as a break and I lift myself up to sit on the counter, dangling my feet.
“You’re taller than me, for one,” he gasps in fake shock and I hit him on the shoulder. 
“You’re dressed nicer.”
“That’s not a compliment for me, that’s a compliment for my stylist,” He corrects me.
“True, okay. You’re smarter than before, I can see you’re not skipping your tutoring sessions. And… you’re not as cute.”
At that, he perks up, frosting is long forgotten. “What do you mean I’m not as cute?” And with the face he’s making, I almost take back my words.
“Well, your highness, you were a boy before. Of course, you’re not cute now. You’re a man.” I roll my eyes as if that were the most obvious thing.
“If I’m not cute, then what am I?” He squints at me and I can tell I’ve fallen into a trap.
“You’re… You’re handsome. Now,” I mutter out. I quickly clear my throat and point to a bald spot on the cake. “Hey, you missed a spot.”
Without even looking at him, I know he’s smiling. “You think I’m handsome.”
“Alright,” I drag out the word. “You’re the Prince. Aren’t you supposed to be handsome so you can woo and marry a pretty princess?”
“Not exactly. Being ridiculously handsome isn’t a royal requirement.”
I let out a scoff, “When did I say ‘ridiculously handsome’?”
“You didn’t have to, I see it on your face.” He taps my cheek and I suddenly notice how close our faces have gotten. Before I know it, my face is blooming pink again and I can feel the warmth shoot from my head to the rest of my body. I launch myself back and adjust my apron. And he stares at me like he’s won.
“Okay, your turn. What’s different about me?” I look around the kitchen to get my heart to settle down. What is happening?
The Prince doesn’t hesitate. “Well, you’re just as beautiful as you were before. Maybe even more.”
I gasp at his words and look him in the eyes. There’s no hint of his typical teasing attitude; he looks completely genuine. My mind goes blank and my ability to respond is rendered useless. He seems to notice that so he brushes off his comment quickly, thinking he’s overstepped.
“Anyways, since we’ve discovered that the only thing that makes me different from before is that I’m exceptionally more handsome-”
“Didn’t say that.”
“-Then why don’t you just call me ‘Donghyuck.’ Like you did before.”
Maybe it’s because he called me beautiful. Maybe it’s because I like the idea of exclusively calling him ‘Donghyuck.’ Or maybe I’m excited to eat the cake we just made, but my heart is fluttering quicker than it ever has.
“Okay. Donghyuck.”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“FIRE! DONGHYUCK! FIRE, FIRE!”
“OH SHIT!”
Watching the medium sized fire bursting from the top of the pot, I run to the fire extinguisher. I’m scrambling to grab it, swift to squeeze the white dust all over the burning stove, despite the dough covering my hands. I hear Donghyuck’s screams in the back and he’s grabbing my shoulders to hide. Once I see the last flame get coated, I drop the extinguisher on the ground, exhausted.
I feel his hands digging into my shoulder blades and I grab him by the jacket, turning him to face me. Knowing how to cover his ass, he smiles in shame, rubbing my arm.
“I swear I was watching the stove,” He whips out his baby voice and try my best not to smack the side of his head. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince, I repeat to myself. 
“Your looks distracted me.” I slap him anyways.
He groans in pain, even though I could’ve slapped harder and I cross my arms to look as threatening as possible. 
“You burnt the caramel,” I whine, staring at the black tar in my brand new pot. “And my pot!”
He immediately attacks me with a hug, shaking me around, mumbling apologies. “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise! I’ll buy you three! Four? Seven!”
“Make it eight,” I huff, tearing his arms off me, only to weirdly miss them.
He gasps, hands against his head in shock. “You definitely dressed prettier today just so I could set your pot on fire and buy you twenty more… You’re evil,” He looks at me like I’ve masterminded the biggest robbery of the century. 
I narrow my eyes at him, lifting my hand to smack him again. “And you’re on timeout. No more baking today.” I start putting away the dishes I had ready.
“Hey! Who’s older here?” Donghyuck begins helping me sort the supplies into the pantry.
“I’m pretty sure I am,” I say, trying to remember if we told each other our birthdays back then.
“When were you born?”
“May.”
“Shit,” He mutters. He tosses the burnt pot into the trashcan, wincing at the char. “Okay, let’s keep the ball rolling. What’s your favorite color?”
I laugh, “Really? Also should I save this dough for tomorrow when we try again?” I hold it up to show him and inspects it.
“Yeah, why not? Just wear a trashbag or something tomorrow.” I kick him in the foot and he chuckles. “But yes, really. What’s your favorite color? I like red.”
“Purple,” I play along while saran wrapping the dough. “Favorite food?”
“Kimchi jjigae,” he spits out, with no hesitation. I nod along, remembering all the times he’s requested it as a midnight snack while we bake. “What do you like to do besides baking?”
“I like to go on walks. When I moved out of the city and with my dad, we lived near the beach. It was nice to just walk on the shore only five minutes away from me. I miss it sometimes. I should probably visit soon.” I tap the bowl mindlessly, trying to figure out my schedule.
“You should take me,” Donghyuck says. He’s right next to me now. “I always wondered where you went after I stopped seeing you. I assumed you were still in the city, until your grandma told me you moved-moved.”
“Ohh, no, yeah. I moved. It was hard leaving everything I knew, but at the same time, I learned so much when I was there with my dad. Come with me next time, and we can hangout on the beach. Nothing should be too flammable there.” I tease, bumping his hip with mine. He laughs with me, but I can tell his mind is somewhere else. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks almost guilty.
“You know, when I found out you were the Prince, I wrote down a list of questions. I was so excited to see what your life is like.” 
This grabbed his attention and my heart eased seeing his eyes light up a little more. The kitchen was relatively clean now, so I decided to prop myself up on the counter. Donghyuck always gets mad at the sudden height difference, but I can tell he loves it when he naturally wedges himself between my thighs like he does right now.
“Yeah? Do you remember any?” His hands were pinned on either side of my hips, forearms pressed against my outer thighs. It’s comfortable. I’m not sure when we got so comfortable. “This is kind of like ‘Princess and The Pauper.’”
I snort trying to remember my list. “I think I wanted to know how many crowns you had.”
“Classic question. I’m pretty sure I have three. My head’s kinda small, so it actually takes awhile for them to make it.”
I hum, investigating his head. “I can tell.”
“Mean.” He lightly pinches my thigh and I stop staring at his skull.
“I also wanted to know if you had any royal pets.”
“A cute, small, white dog. Yep.” He nods, like he’s impressed with himself for having such a basic dog and I have to laugh. 
“Any cool cars?”
“Tons,” He brags. “Okay, what does ‘Adult You’ want to know?”
There’s always been a question I wanted to ask him since I started hanging out with him again. It nagged in the back of my mind as I watched him, always happy, always cheering everyone on. Despite his bright facial expressions and body language, I could tell it was tiring, it must be. I never imagined the royal life to be hard, or as hard as my own, until I met him again.
I look at his face, checking for any signs that I shouldn’t be asking him. But he looks at me with such softness and openness, that I don’t hesitate to ask.
“Are you happy? Like… do you like being the Prince?”
His eyes widened at my question and he looks down at my lap to think. He takes longer than I expect, and I assume no one has ever bothered to ask. His silence is telling.
“Hey…,” I reach for his face to lift his chin up. “It’s okay to say you’re not. You don’t have to be all the time.”
He flinches like this was a concept he couldn’t accept for himself. I grab his face a little tighter so he really hears me.
“As long as you’re at least looking for your happiness, that’s all that matters,” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “You deserve all the happiness, Hyuck.”
I can see his mind slowly wrapping around my words as something in his face shifts. He looks hesitant for a different reason.
“And what if I find my happiness in you?” I gasp, instinctively letting go of his face slightly. He’s fast to bring his hand up to keep mine there. His fingers slot between my gaps. He looks desperate to keep me here.
Knowing my words hold immense weight, I still don’t stop myself from saying, “Then I’ll be that for you, in whatever way I can.”
Despite me being vague, Donghyuck takes all that he can. His face blooms into a smile and I return it, knowing it was cause of me. He holds my hand this time and brings it down to my lap, sighing happily.
“Thank you.”
And for a split second, I’m scared for what I’ve promised. After all, he’s the prince and I’m the pauper.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Donghyuck is the happiest he has ever been. Unlike how it was when he was a kid, he’s attending his classes, his meetings, and even having lunches with the princesses the Queen sends over. However, he can’t promise that these dates are leading up to a potential marriage. He’s doing just enough so that his mother doesn’t get suspicious. Best of all, for most nights, he gets to sneak into the kitchen and talk, bake, and laugh for hours.
The secret hangouts are going amazingly. He can tell she’s warming up to him as she did back then or maybe it’s just the fire from the oven heating up the place. Last week, the kitchen at her new bakery finally finished being built and he knows this because he hired his staff to make sure the job was done well without telling her. That day he expected her to come in and tell him that she had to stop seeing him, but she still showed up like clockwork – two to three times a week. 
Next week, her bakery is set to have its grand opening and Donghyuck hopes this isn’t what actually stops her from coming to see him. He’s even practiced his baking skills on his own and eaten less of the fruit while they’re together in hopes it doesn’t make her want to leave again. And so for the following week, Donghyuck is treading carefully.
“Do you need help with that, Princess?”
“Should I preheat the oven for you?”
“Here, let me tie your apron.”
“I’ll carry that for you.”
All of these mini acts of chivalry are met with a suspicious gaze and a light dusting of red on her cheeks. Donghyuck feels a sense of achievement whenever she accepts his help. And this all leads up to the night before her grand opening.
Donghyuck is lighting the last candle when the sound of keys unlocking the side kitchen door is heard. He quickly blows out the match before scurrying behind the table to greet her with a “Surprise!”
“Donghyuck! Don’t do that! God, I thought I was caught for sneaking in.”
He rolls his eyes at her lackluster reaction and reorients himself. 
“I said… Surprise!” He dramatically waves his arms around to show all the work he put into decorating the kitchen. She finally notices her surroundings and her eyes light up. Donghyuck can feel his heart soften, compared to how it was racing earlier trying to set all of this up without his staff.
“What… what is all of this?” Her hands are covering her mouth in disbelief. There are streamers and fairy lights gracing the walls and candles are littered all around the room. Donghyuck is standing in the center with a single cupcake in his hands.
“Congrats. I heard from the grapevine that your bakery opens tomorrow.” She laughs at his theatrics and sets her bag down to look at the cupcake he’s made. In messy red font, the top of the treat reads the name of her bakery. She almost wants to tear up.
“Only one? Are we sharing?” She takes the cupcake from his hands and he tries not to think too hard about her fingers touching his.
“Well, I made that myself, and I personally don’t trust that I didn’t mess up the recipe in some way. So if anyone’s getting food poisoning tonight, it’d be you.” He taps her nose. “Eat up!”
At that, her jaw drops and she keeps the cupcake at a distance as if it’s some nuclear substance.
“Do you secretly want me dead?” She laughs.
“Hey, when it comes down to a royal and a baker. The baker’s going.” Donghyuck mimics his throat being slit and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too hard. He loves to mess with her.
“You are the worst. Way to look out for your people, your highness.” She begins to unwrap the cupcake, taking a sniff out of precaution.
“‘Your Highness’? Aw, Princess, don’t be like that.” He moves closer to her and she shifts back, tutting.
“Nope. As a baker under your kingdom, I will gladly sacrifice myself by eating this cupcake. Alone.” She dramatically curtsies before going in for a hesitant bite.
Donghyuck swiftly beats her to it and takes a large bite out of the other end as her lips touch the cupcake. Her eyes widen in shock and he sends her a wink before brushing the crumbs off his mouth.
“Now you can’t tell me I don’t care about my people,” He says while chewing the weird texture of his creation. Donghyuck smirks at the deer-in-headlights reaction she has on her face. 
She gulps, shaking her head so that her hair hides her blush. She sets the cupcake down, not wanting a reminder of how close his face just was.
“Well, it’s edible,” She jokes. Donghyuck’s tongue prods the inside of his mouth as he takes in what was supposedly a compliment.
“Says the one who took the smallest bite known to man,” He accuses, pointing at the cupcake.
“How was I supposed to take a bigger one when you practically shoved your face into it and devoured half?” Once again, she’s reminded of what just transpired and feels her cheeks growing warm.
“Ooo, did I make you flustered? Scared your lips were about to touch mine?” Donghyuck takes a step closer and brushes a nonexistent crumb off her lip with his thumb. He hopes she doesn’t feel his heart pounding like fireworks.
Like she can sense his fake confidence, she grabs his wrist. “Is that what you were thinking about when you took a bite? Kissing me?” She tilts her head to the side and his whole body buzzes.
Before he could crumble even further, he tears his hand out of hers. “Please. Like I’d let anyone touch these royal lips.” He turns around to calm himself down and pretends to busy himself with something on the fridge.
He hears her laugh behind him. “I bet they’re not as sweet as a baker’s.”
He turns around and narrows his eyes at her. “How did this grand opening celebration turn into you messing with me?” Accepting defeat, he resorts to fake anger and his signature pout.
“You started it,” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Anyways…”
With the softest smile, she says, “Thank you, Hyuck. I really appreciate you.”
He returns it, “Always.”
The rest of the night is filled with laughter and playful bickering as the two avoid finishing the mysteriously textured cupcake. Donghyuck makes multiple attempts to pit the blame on her as the teacher, and the soon-to-be bakery owner fails to leave and sleep early at the expense of the Prince’s whines. To be honest, the lack of sleep was worth it if she got to spend more time with him.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Now that the bakery is well past its grand opening and flourishing greatly, I’ve gotten my days back. My employees are well-trained and seasoned and I feel comfortable taking days off when I need to. Oddly, my new opened-up schedule was somehow sensed by Donghyuck and I was invited to the palace during the daytime for the first time ever. I was nervous at first to be sneaking in in broad daylight, but he assured me that if I followed the steps he gave me exactly, I’d be fine – not that reassuring. 
As written in his note, I greeted Yunseo, the guard, as usual, and he gave me weird looks, going back and forth between the sun and my face.
“You know the sun is out, right?” He asked, still looking at me funny.
I gave him the most incredulous look. “You’re joking? It’s not nighttime?” I made an effort to crazily look around and he sighed.
“Alright, alright, I get it,” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d switch things up,” I shrugged, not wanting to reveal who I was meeting.
Yunseo nodded, “Fair… okay, be careful, okay? The palace feels a little frantic today.” With that, he opened the gates for me and I gave him a smile.
“You’re the best. Make sure to stop by sometime this week, I have pastries for you.” I waved goodbye as he promised to come. 
Following Donghyuck’s poorly drawn-out map, I realized our meeting point isn’t the kitchen and that he’s taking me on an obscure path that the Queen and King definitely are not aware exists. As I walk through centuries-old, dimly lit stone walls, I think about how many times Donghyuck has used these secret passageways and if little Donghyuck used these when he snuck out to see me, 15 years ago. I can imagine 7-year-old Donghyuck discovering these routes within the castle’s walls.
“Stop right there!” A voice echoes through the abandoned hallway.
My heart spazzes and as loud as my brain is yelling at me to run, my feet don’t budge. I curse under my breath and crumple Donghyuck’s map in my hands, remembering to kill him unless I die right here. And if I do happen to die here, then I have to make sure I return as a ghost, haunting that man for life. I turn around slowly, eyes half closed, to see who’s behind me, but there’s no one there. There’s no one in the passageway at all. I whip around a few more times to confirm and I notice a crack in the wall to my right. It’s a peephole overlooking the actual palace hallways.
Out of curiosity, I look through and I see the Queen, face as red as the beautiful gown she adorns.
“Prince Lee Donghyuck,” his name is spat out like bile. “You will follow my orders.”
Coming into view, I see Donghyuck. He and the Queen are in the middle of a heated argument. His head is hung low and I can see him playing with his sleeves like he does when he gets anxious. I wish to reach for him, but then I remember the wall separating us.
“Your majesty, I… I can’t. I don’t want to,” He hiccups, and if I can’t see the tears on his face, I can hear them. “I never did.”
The space in my chest feels as tight and narrow as the walkway I’m in and I want to look away, but I can’t.
“It doesn’t matter what you want. You are the Prince and you are expected to marry a Princess. How dare you fool me for all these years?” As the Queen, she still carries her natural elegance, but her words burn like acid. She’s speaking to him at a normal volume, but her tone pierces your ears. 
“I-I didn’t mean to fool you. I tried my best, but I don’t love them. I don’t love the suitresses you send. And I need you to understand that I never will.” Donghyuck finally looks up and I can see the desperation in his eyes from where I stand. 
“Love?,” The Queen laughs bitterly. “I don’t need you to love them. You just need to marry one. As the Prince, what makes you think you have the privilege of being in love? Not when you have a country to rule.” There’s less anger in her words and more disappointment. 
Donghyuck winces, looking like he’s fighting back what he wants to say. His bottom lip is trembling and the grip he has on his sleeves is tight. His whole body practically shakes. Eventually, he lets go.
“If I’m not meant to love someone, then explain to me why I already do. Explain to me why I love her? Explain to me why I can’t have her?!” 
Tears are rolling down his cheeks like heavy rainfall. “I never asked for this!” He screams, and I wonder to which he’s referring to. 
My body is sweaty like I ran a mile and I feel like my breathing can be heard through the wall. He never mentions my name, but I know, I can feel, that he’s talking about me. My whole body is buzzing and I don’t know whether to feel ecstatic or sad. Despite my confusion, one feeling is clear: fear. Before I can hear what the Queen has to say, I run. 
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“Oh God. Sorry, I was supposed to get here before you. I was supposed to be part of the surprise,” He smiles meekly, praying the puffiness from crying doesn’t make him look strange. He accidentally sniffles and hopes she blames it on the flowers and his chronic allergies.
She’s sitting in the garden chair next to the tea table Donghyuck had set up an hour ago. He scoped out a secluded spot in the royal garden and slowly put everything together. He moves to sit down across from her and she’s staring intently at the cup in front of her. 
“I asked Gran what your favorite tea is and brewed some for us. I know I don’t have your baking skills, but if we get hungry, we can sneak back to the kitchen,” he playfully winks, trying to hide the fact that he was in the worst state five minutes ago. Although he can’t bake, he can definitely make a good batch of tea. He hopes it hasn’t gone cold. 
He waits for a response, but she’s still frozen, chewing the inside of her cheek. Maybe he’s still on edge from his argument with the Queen, but she doesn’t look happy. This is definitely not the reaction he was expecting.
“Do you wanna try the tea? I bet it’ll amaze you so much, you’ll beg me for the recipe,” he teases. The teapot hovers over her cup, but she makes no move to accept it.
“Okay, no tea. That’s fine,” Donghyuck chooses to laugh it off. “Do you wanna walk around? Most of the garden is secluded so we don’t have to worry about someone catching us.”
“Would that be so bad?” The first words she whispers strike him with confusion. Her voice is dry like she just strained it.
“Huh?” He tilts his head, scooting his chair in closer to hear her.
“Would that be so bad?” She says, unable to bate her anger. “Being caught with me? Would his royal highness hate being found walking with me?”
“Hey,” Donghyuck grabs her hand from her lap, interlocking his fingers. “What’s going on?” She tears her hand out from his hold like it stung and he feels like he’s making mistake after mistake.
“I-I’m sorry, is this too much? I wanted to do something nice for our first date outside of the kitchen. Was this a mistake?” He starts to stack the plates, quickly discarding his work. “I usually don’t plan these myself, so I’m sorry if this is bad. I-”
Donghyuck sees her wince in his peripheral and feels her hand on his wrist as he’s about to haphazardly dump the tea in the bushes. Her hands are cold today.
“Date?” The word leaves her mouth as if it made her sick.
The alarms go off in Donghyuck’s mind. “Date? Did I say date? Sorry, I actually mean-”
“Donghyuck,” she cuts him off. He can see her harshly swallow. “Why are you doing this?”
He blinks. “I… I wanted to do something nice for us. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Donghyuck can feel himself beginning to ramble.
“No. Why have you been hanging out with me? If it’s because you feel guilty about ditching me all those years ago, forget about it. I don’t care anymore.” She looks at him with so much intensity, not only trying to convince him, but convince herself that none of this matters.
“Princess, please. No, it’s not out of pity. You know that.” He shakes his head almost violently, begging her to believe his honest intentions. He was shocked he had to convince her in the first place, always assuming she knew his heart better than him.
Completely ignoring him, she continues, “And why aren’t you married yet?”
“W-what?” Similar to whiplash, Donghyuck feels like his brain has just been jostled. Are his ears tricking him and forcing him to relive the traumatic conversation he just had with his mother? Why is this topic being brought up?
“You’re the Prince,” she says like it’s an unwavering fact. “You’re meeting with princesses weekly. You’re meant to rule side by side as King and Queen. Why… why aren’t you married yet?” She asks and her eyes are ice cold like her hands. 
She too closely resembles the older woman who was just yelling at him moments ago. The casing around his heart begins to harden and the feeling he gets from the girl in front of him is now anger. The same bitter taste returns in his mouth.
“Are you serious?” He looks at her and the Donghyuck she knows has washed away. Betrayal, rage, and sorrow are painted across his face. It was like she was looking through the peephole again.
“Don’t ask stupid questions you know the answers to,” he mutters, words barely making it past his tight lips. He’s breathing much harder than before.
“Answer me. Why. Aren’t. You. Married.” Her hands are gripping the edge of her knees to stop them from shaking. 
Donghyuck stares at her for a long time, eyes flittering over every facial feature, confirming that she actually wants to hear the answer. Her face is firm and her question is set. He takes a deep, pained breath and leans back slightly.
“It’s because I love you.” Not like the confession he imagined in his head, Donghyuck reveals his long-term feelings like this was their end and not their new beginning. The period at the end of a sentence. The last page of a hardcover book. The last second on a timer.
She simply nods, stiff in the neck. She excuses herself before standing up, bowing, and walking away.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“That’ll be $6.06. Would you like your receipt?”
The cash register dings with another purchase and I slump back in my chair as the customer leaves. It was a slow and agonizing shift with only two more hours till closing. It’s also been a slow and agonizing two weeks. 
I’m haunted by what went down at the royal garden almost every hour of the day. At first, I was using every chance I could get to skip work and wallow at home. But suddenly the plants in my room reminded me of him and the teacups in my cabinets smelled like the tea he prepared for us. So for the second week, I decided to dedicate myself to work. I’ve been coming in every single day and overworking myself to the point where my employees don’t know what to do but stand around. I debate whether or not to let them leave early when a familiar head of brown hair walks in. My heart picks up its pace and it’s like the teacups all over again.
“Donghyu- oh. Hi, welcome!” I smile wide, trying to hide the previous disappointment drawn on my face. The customer gives me an awkward smile back and begins browsing the pastry racks as I mentally slap myself.
I slump down to the floor behind the counter and silently groan in my hands. Why does every male brunette customer these past two weeks remind me of him? And why are there so many of them? Like every other time I’ve confused a customer with Donghyuck, the guilt begins to creep back into my system and I get flashbacks of our last conversation. 
“Why aren’t you married?,” I mock my own voice. “Are you stupid?” I repeatedly hit my palms against my head when I hear a ding from the counter bell. I quickly shoot up and brush the bangs out of my face, hoping the customer thinks I’m at least slightly normal.
“Hi, how can I hel- Grandma!” On instinct, I glance behind her, foolishly hoping he’s hiding behind her tiny frame, and my shoulders slump when I’m met with no one. So now I’m really imagining him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, composing myself.
“Just checking in on you. I notice you haven’t been coming to the kitchen because when I come in in the mornings, my counter is actually clean,” she jokes. I smile sheepishly and nervously adjust the apron string around my neck. 
“Sorry, it’s usually Donghyuck’s fault,” I quickly clear my throat, answering a little too fast. “The Prince, I mean.”
Grandma’s eyebrows shoot up at the mention of his name and she looks down at her feet, suddenly fidgety. I notice her change in demeanor instantly. 
“Speaking of him…”
“We don’t need to,” I cut her off. “Speak about him, I mean.” I wince at how suspicious my words sound.
“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m just curious… if anything happened between you two.” She whispers the last part, looking back at the customer to make sure he can’t hear. She clears her throat and steps behind the counter with me, naturally rearranging the bread in the display case. She busies herself while encouraging me to speak.
I gnaw on my lip, tapping the counter, debating if I should finally talk it out with someone. I’ve only been talking to my employees about bread starters and yeast.
“We fought.” I admit.
“About?” Grandma loads the case with more bread. I start passing them to her one by one. 
“He told me… he told me he loved me.” I press my lips together and I hear her head hit the top of the display case and the bread hit the floor. “Grandma! Are you okay?”
I crouch down, grabbing the top of her head to inspect, and she’s giving me the most incredulous look.
“He told you he loved you?!” She squealed at an embarrassingly non-discrete volume, making the customer drop the pastry in his hands. He’s looking around, frazzled, and I can see him debate whether or not he should pick it back up.
“Don’t worry about it! I’ll clean it up!” I screamed from behind the counter. 
“Grandma, keep it down,” I curse through my teeth.
She’s rubbing her head and shaking it in either pain or confusion.
“I know, I know. A Prince saying he’s in love with the baker’s granddaughter is farfetched and unrealistic. I get it.” It’s what has been circling through my brain every day.
“That’s not what I’m confused about, dear.” She looks like she’s debating what to say next. “Did you not hear?”
“Hear what?” At the end of my question, and like a universal sign, the door jingles and the mailman is rushing in, hair swept back by the wind. 
“Sorry! I forgot to drop this off this morning. It’s urgent mail.” He salutes and is out the door as quickly as he enters. 
On the counter is a letter with the royal stamp. My stomach feels queasy assuming this is the first contact I’ve had from Donghyuck since our fight, but I can’t help the naive smile that breaks out on my face. I rush to open it, not worrying about the papercuts. Every doubt that was just in my head disappeared and my grandma interjects, hoping to bring me back down from my high.
“Sweetie, wait. I need to tell you that-”
To the owner of Princess Bakery,
Prince Lee Donghyuck will be celebrating his union with Princess Nam Soohae on 26 May, 2023 at the royal garden grounds. The royal family requests a wedding cake to be made with your expertise and culinary skills. 
Please accept this royal assignment with details soon to come.
Signed,
The Lees
The words on the page silenced me and my thoughts, my breaths barely leaving my lips. My eyes kept darting across the paper; the calligraphed words are being repeated over and over again in my brain. 
Prince Lee Donghyuck.
His union.
Wedding cake.
Realization finally dawns that this isn’t the love letter or apology I was expecting from Prince Donghyuck. A breath finally escapes and it’s shaky as it wavers in the air like an offkey music note. A heart-stopping pain envelopes my chest and it seizes up to my eyes. The whites of the paper burn my irises. I catch a teardrop splattering onto the parchment. I’m haunted with images of Donghyuck at the altar with someone else. And then I’m thinking about the garden. And us. 
Surprise.
Our first date.
Because I love you.
Because he loves me? Because Prince Lee Donghyuck loves me? Prince Lee Donghyuck who is getting married to an actual princess in a week? Suddenly, it feels like the floor’s unsteady and the oven temperature was turned up to the highest. The letter wrinkles between my fingers and the ink smudges with salty tears. 
This is what I was afraid of. And yet this is what I set myself up for. I knew I should have stopped seeing him. I knew it the moment mango tarts began to remind me of him. The moment my secret ingredient of love found in every bake was powered by him and his place in my heart. Even though I meant to stop this from happening during our talk in the royal garden, that small teaspoon of hope was still sprinkled in my mind. That hope stayed every time I saw a plant, a teacup, or a brunette. But now it’s dissolved.
A new feeling washes over me. One that I haven’t felt once these past two weeks. Not false hope. Not heartbreak. And not regret.
Anger. 
“Don’t blame him.” 
My grandma’s words slice through the red and her hands on my arms attempt to calm me down. I look up through wet lashes, lips trembling.
“Donghyuck… Prince Donghyuck had no say. The royals… they never do.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be my grandma?” I clench my jaw to stop the shaking, slightly regretting my bitter words. 
Her grip is softer. “Oh honey, I am. And that’s why I’m telling you not to waste this energy on being mad at him. What you guys share is beautiful, don’t let this taint it.” She takes the letter out of my hands and physically turns me to face her.
“Shared,” I corrected her.
“Share,” She corrects me. “Your love for each other is seen by everyone. I know it can’t flourish the way love is supposed to, but at least cherish it for what it was.”
Her words reintroduce more feelings. Sorrow. Frustration. 
“I was really hoping this time it works out…” She voices my thoughts.
At this point, I’m hiccupping between breaths, caught between reliving the past and hearing these explanations. The world was never meant to have us together it seems. But at least I was told this time we had an ending.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
The next royal letter came two days after the first, and I was called to spend a week in the royal palace to test out different wedding cakes. I essentially had no choice but to say yes as the royal chauffeurs picked me up every morning to take me there. It felt like those sunrises with my grandma when I was seven but the butterflies in my stomach turned into bees. Unlike the past, I prayed I wouldn’t run into Prince Donghyuck, but with him having requested I make his cake, I’m sure he knows I’m here.
My grandma designated a portion of the kitchen to me as the head baker and it mimicked the old days as much as it could. That was until I got a visitor on the second day.
“Good morning! I’m Princess Nam Soohae.”
My eyes widened and my whisk fell out of my grasp as I took in her presence. She’s beautiful. She’s an actual princess. Her bright, toothy smile would’ve made anyone smitten if it weren’t for the fact that she was about to marry the man I loved. The pretty pink dress she wore was tinted green through my eyes. I shook my head, trying to remind myself of my place. 
“Good morning,” I bowed. “I’m the baker in charge of your wedding cake.” My smile faltered only slightly with the mention of the union.
She giggles and I almost want to laugh with her. “I know that, silly. I was sent by the Queen to sample some. Or should I say my future mother-in-law.” She bites her perfectly manicured nail with excitement.
Soohae leans her hands on the counter and peers at the bowl in my hand.
“Is there any to try right now?” Her head surveys the kitchen like a kid looking for cookies. It’s genuinely hard to dislike her.
“Um, I have a few cakes placed to the side to cool right now. There’s no frosting on it yet, but I’m sure it’d be good to try the base first!” I move to grab one of the trays and she flutters to follow me.
“Ooooh!” She gushes. “I’m so excited to try it. My own wedding cake, can you believe it?”
“No.” I almost drop the cake. “I mean, yes? Sorry. Getting married to the one you love is… it’s a crazy thing.” I cut a piece of cake and place it on a plate for her.
She doesn’t hesitate to take a bite and as she chews, she thinks. 
“I don’t love him yet, to be honest. This cake is really good, by the way.” I start cutting a slice from the other cake to sample. “But I know I will love him eventually. I already get butterflies when I look at him. I trust that he’s the one for me, I mean have you seen him?”
Before I can agree, and thank god she doesn’t give me a second to, she continues, “I know it’s silly for a person in my position to believe in the one. But I really, really do think it could be him. The other day he brought me my favorite flowers, like how did he know?!” She pops a bite of the other cake in and her eyes light up.
“Oh this is the one! Don’t even think about giving me another,” The Princess reaches for another bite and applauds me.
I laugh and make sure to note to go with the lemon base and not the mango one. As my hands are about to toss the mango cake away, my mind stops me and I consider whether Donghyuck would prefer this instead. The clanking of the Princess’s fork on the plate, finishing the lemon cake slice till it’s crumbs, reels me back and I let the cake fall into the garbage. It feels eerily like a metaphor.
For the rest of the week, Princess Soohae visits me and taste tests the frosting, fondant, and other things she wants. With every passing day, I hear more about Haechan and I can feel that her words have turned fonder. Coincidentally, her sweet tooth has gotten worse and the final components of the wedding cake are a complete sugar bomb like her personality.
On my final day, the Queen joins her. The last time I saw her majesty, she was berating the Prince as I secretly watched. It felt like I was in that hidden passageway again as she watches me prepare a slice of the wedding cake for her. My hands shake, placing the plate down in front of her and her gaze is sharp. It’s interesting how harsh her energy is when her facial features are as soft as the Prince’s. She looks like she’s been through a lot and I wonder if Donghyuck will experience the same thing when he fulfills his role as King. Like she can tell I’m thinking about him, The Queen’s eyes narrow. 
“I hope you enjoy,” I bow, and she doesn’t say a word. Princess Soohae on the other hand is completely bubbling over how good it turned out and how her guests are sure to love it too. 
The Queen simply nibbles on a piece and nods along. The black and white vibes almost give me whiplash as I stand there, watching the two of them. A sweat forms on my hairline and I’m internally glad this is my last day. I can’t go through this any longer. 
And like a karmic jinx, the kitchen door opens and a familiar brunette walks in. This time, it is him.
“Oh my! Prince Donghyuck!” Princess Soohae scrambles off her chair and bows both gracefully and clumsily. I bow as well, trying hard to hide the immediate blush on my face I get whenever I see him. I wonder if I can stay bowing so I don’t have to meet his face. The last time we saw each other was when we talked at the royal garden, and as much as I prayed I wouldn’t run into him here, truthfully, a part of me also hoped I would.
As soon as I force myself to stand up straight, we lock eyes and the strain in my chest loosens like a snapped thread. I can feel my lungs fill with air and it’s relieving to see him again after so long. It hurts in the best way as I’m overwhelmed by his presence. That familiar brown waved hair, the sunkissed tan skin, and the plump smiley cheeks. Everything is how I left it but his expression is not one I expected. He’s in complete shock and I don’t know what to do but look around the room to find something that would cause such surprise. I quickly glance at the Queen, and for the first time since she sat down, there’s a small lift in the corner of her mouth. Is she smirking?
“Princess?” He tilts his head, still staring at me before he realizes what he just called me. “Princess! Princess Soohae! I came to get you.” He runs over to grab her hand and the lifted cheekbones on her face tells me she’s grinning. 
“What- uh- what’s going on?” I’m fixated on the way he fiddles with her hand as he looks around the room for answers. 
“Cake testing? How did you forget, silly?” Princess Soohae laughs as she playfully pats his cheeks. Everyone in the room can tell she’s head over heels and my stomach hurts. As I’m clutching my stomach and the Prince stares at me quizzically, there’s one person in the room watching all of this go down.
“She’s the wedding cake baker we outsourced, Prince Donghyuck.” The Queen says calmly, gesturing to me. She tells him like it’s his first time hearing this and I’m taken aback, my movements making the utensils on the table quiver slightly.
“He didn’t know?” My mouth was too quick to voice my thoughts. “His highness, I mean.” I bow in apology.
“No. No, I didn’t.” His hands are at his side now, gripping the fabric of his sleeves. The shock left his face and now he’s staring at me with pity and then silent anger when his head turns towards the Queen. My eyes follow his and she returns his look as if to challenge him to say more. 
Completely obvious to the shift in atmosphere, Princess Soohae raves about the final wedding cake decisions and begs the Prince to try a bite. He turns her down without sparing a glance and asks her to leave with him. He doesn’t give me a second thought as he breaks eye contact with the Queen and drags his future wife away. There’s no stopping the ache that fills my chest again, slow but strong like the rising tide.
“So he still likes you.”
Snapped out of my haze, my ears don’t believe the words I hear coming from the Queen’s lips.
“Pardon?” She’s looking at me now and it’s a mixture of disappointment and disinterest etched on her face. The warmth on her face has depleted. 
“My son. Prince Donghyuck. He still likes you,” she laughs dryly. “After all these years…” 
My eyebrows furrow and I feel myself getting dizzy. Maybe this is all some sort of hallucination and the Queen isn’t talking to me right now. I grip the counter for support, and she doesn’t wait for me to respond.
“You know, I thought I handled the issue 15 years ago when I asked the head baker to stop bringing you here. I was stupid to think it would be that easy when he purposely sabotaged every date I set up for him the years after.”
She’s twirling the fork on the plate now and the scrapes make me flinch. The kitchen no longer feels like a safe space for me right now as her words slowly suffocate me. 
“And when he started to actually go on these dates this year and report back to me that they’re going well? I was foolish to think it was him beginning to try. I saw you one day, back in this kitchen. Back in his life. It all made sense and it made me so angry.” Her hands grip the fork handle. They’re dainty, but if you look close, they’re calloused, indicating years of work. Her face appears the same. If it weren’t for the terrifying state I was in, I would’ve wanted to comfort her. She looks up at me, and I felt tinier than I did before, her eyes piercing into me. 
“Do you not understand the life I’m trying to set up for Donghyuck? He’s the future king. He needs a queen, a real queen to survive in this world. As the queen, I know firsthand what he needs. My king wouldn’t be anywhere without me and his mother who set me up with him. You’re not fit for this role and you never will be.” She finally sets the fork down with a clatter. 
“Listen to me, and let him go. It’s what’s best.” Her threatening nature fades as quickly as it came and she gracefully stands up, brushing the nonexistent debris on her gown. The Queen gives me one final look, waiting for me to bow and essentially agree, before leaving the kitchen. 
The air returns and I grasp my chest to let myself breathe. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I choke back sobs.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“Remember, it’s the room on the right hallway. Third door. And if anyone sees you, don’t tell them I sent you. I’ll get in trouble.” My grandma hammers in the details one more time, waiting for me to nod in confirmation.
It’s the end of my final day and she asked me to deliver pastries to a room in the palace before I leave, saying her workload is too large to be going herself. I figured it’s one more thing I could do before I never step foot in the palace again. I almost turned her down earlier in fear of running into the Queen. Just the thought of that happening makes me feel sick, but I know I won’t be seeing her again after this anyways.
I scoff, “So you’d rather I get sent to the guillotine?” I tease her with an exaggerated horrified look. 
She easily flicks my forehead, despite our height difference, and I grab it wincing. “You’re lucky I don’t chop off your head myself with that attitude of yours.” She sneers at me and I giggle.
“Fair…,” I playfully mutter, soothing the area between my brows.
Her directions sent me to a room with beautiful brown double doors. I smile at the two ladies standing outside of it and I’m about to explain why I’m here before they cut me off.
“Pastry delivery for the Prince?” They say in unison.
Like a horror movie, my jaw drops and I lose my instinct to run. One thing I do know is to make sure I yell at my grandma later as I nod and tell them they’re correct. She completely set me up.
On another occasion, I would’ve appreciated the doors to Prince Donghyuck’s bedroom more, but right now, they look like the gates of Hell. I attempt to swallow whatever saliva was left in my suddenly dry mouth as I brushed my hair out of my face. The ladies allow me to knock on the door. My palms are sweaty as I shakily knock on the varnished wood, hearing it echo into the space on the other side. His room must be huge.
No responses are heard. This was my out, but my body was telling me not to leave, even though my mind was screaming to run. Instead of knocking again, I turn the knob and almost wish it wasn’t unlocked, but it was.
There he is on the other side, scribbling at his desk. His back is facing me and I watch the muscles in them move with vigor. I haven’t seen him work this hard since he convinced me to teach him how to make a creme brulée and accidentally made scrambled eggs with the yolks.
I shut the door behind me and hope it catches his attention, but it doesn’t. I gulp, realizing how very real this situation is and I almost want to throw up knowing I have to speak.
“Hyuck.”
I hear him inhale and he spins quickly out of his chair to look at me. Different to how it felt seeing him in the kitchen earlier today, his face is softer, accepting my presence. My heart floats in my chest, wondering why I was so nervous to see him when just the sight of him oozes comfort. He looks at me like he’s feeling the same way. I see the longing in his eyes and the way they warm, I close my own to stop myself from giving in too much.
“Princess.”
His voice is fragile and his choice of words makes me shut my eyes harder, scared that I’d lose all my resilience and run straight into his arms. He doesn’t correct himself this time, and he says it again with more confidence.
I finally peel them open and force myself to act cold. Just an hour ago I was finishing his wedding cake; this fire has to be extinguished.
“Princess Soohae will make a great queen.” I move to set the pastry basket down on a table near me.
“It’s not what you think. I was going to-“ He turns around in a frenzy and grabs the paper he was just writing on. The Prince takes a step closer and it takes all my strength to recoil. It takes all of me not to be swayed by the obvious hurt on his face. This will be good for us, I have to remind myself.
My hand is up, drawing the line. “You don’t have to explain. It’s not what I’m here for.”
He hesitantly puts his arm down, eyebrow twitched in confusion. The paper is still in his hands.
“I got you a gift,” I partly smile. “A wedding gift and I guess, also… a goodbye gift.” With that statement, I break away from his stare, fixating on a corner in his grand room. 
I hear paper wrinkling. “A goodbye gift?” His voice gets lower and it causes me to wince. It feels like all the tension in the room gathered in the small vacancy in my chest and the overwhelming pressure makes my eyes sting. I can already feel the tears build up as I play with the hem of my shirt. 
“Mhm,” I painfully affirm. “The wedding cake. It’s both my gift and my goodbye. I thought you requested it when I first got the royal letter,” I laugh at the situation, trying to stop myself from letting him see me cry.
“Turns out it wasn’t you, but regardless. You’re getting married and I can’t be here anymore. So I left it in the kitchen. Obviously, it’s not a goodbye-goodbye, since I’ll still be living here in the city, but… No. Yeah, it’s a goodbye,” I nod to myself, trying to unravel the knot in my throat. “I guess you took my advice, huh? Congratulations, your highness.”
The silence from him is thick and it leaves a sour feeling in my stomach. It calls me to look up at him, and his eyes are icy cold. The sweet honey brown is as dark as coal.
“This is your response?” His words are robotic, I can feel the venom on his tongue as it pricks at my heart.
“S-sorry?” I tilt my head, not understanding him. It felt terrifying to make him repeat himself in the state he’s in.
“I told you I loved you. I’m assuming this is your response.” My eyes flicker to the paper in his fist, no longer readable. Neither is his face as he gives me the blankest look. It makes me want to cry more knowing this is how I will remember our last moments.
This time, I do take a step towards him but he’s shaking his head aggressively, lower back pressed against the edge of his desk. Now I know how he felt.
“If you want to hear me say ‘I love you’, you know I can’t do that.” Just having those three words leave my lips causes a tear to roll down my cheek. 
“Because I’m the Prince?” This time, his expression changes to match mine. I can feel the frustration and pain radiating off of him, and all I want to do is to tell him what he needs to hear. But I just nod, forcing a distance.
“So it always mattered. What if… what if it was 7-year-old Donghyuck asking his princess? What would you have said? You didn’t know who I was back then. I was just… just Donghyuck.” He sighs, his body is limp as he settles onto his desk. I notice his frail build, worried that he’s been eating less.
I smile, fondly remembering the ignorant bliss from 15 years ago. But then I’m forced to remember our situation now, our ugly situation where our hearts are demanded to stay silent. 
“I would’ve told him I loved him too.”
And with that, all strength is gone as I sob into my palm. I’m trying to force the wails in, but my body is shaking. My legs feel weak and he’s over here and his arms are wrapped tightly around me in a second. I can feel his heart beating against my arm trapped between our bodies and his breath shakily blowing on the top of my head. One hand is holding me tight and the other is brushing through my hair as he shushes me. 
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” He repeats. A part of me thinks this is to calm himself down too. 
I know I’m right when I slowly pull myself back and see the red in his eyes and on the tip of his nose. My hand flinches as I’m about to caress his cheek. His breath is steadier as it now fans across my face and his eyes are lidded like they’ve finally got some rest. My hesitation vanishes as I let myself cup his face, trace the constellation painted on his cheek, and feel the sweetness of his lips on mine. The warm sensation that envelops my body makes me gasp and Donghyuck tightens his embrace on me, refusing to let go. He tasted better than every sweet treat I’ve had combined. He was intoxicating and my whole body buzzed like a sugar rush. 
I close my eyes tighter, savoring the feeling of his lips, wanting to remember every trace — letting myself be selfish this last time. He’s sugary, cozy, and soothing like the afternoon sun on my back. His mouth moves with such ease against mine and it feels like I’ve been kissing him my whole life. The feeling of his tongue gently nudging my bottom lip jolts me back to reality and I push away, seized by the cold air of his big room again. 
I bring my hands to my face, hoping to cool down the flush. The Prince is breathing as heavily and in sync with me, and all I can hear is our matching breaths and the ringing in my ears. I have to end it here. 
“Um. Congratulations on your wedding,” I say in one breath. I don’t dare look at him as I quickly bow, scrambling to his door. 
“Princess! Wait,” He grabs my wrist, almost too tight. “I can’t go through with this. Please, I-I only want to marry you.”
“Your highness…”
“Don’t. Don’t call me that. Say my name, please. Call me Hyuck. Call me Donghyuck. Anything but that. Just don’t-“ His teeth are chattering and he blinks away the tears. “Don’t leave me again.”
Without a second thought, I’m shaking my head ‘no.’ Even with tears blurring my vision, I can see the hurt on his face and I feel a part of my heart rot. It pains me just as much to reject him, but the Queen’s words swirl around in my head, unrelentless. I’m forced to leave him and my heart here and I want to scream, but I can’t. He notices that. It reminds him of himself.
Letting the finality of my decision settle in, he lets go of me, taking in a shaky breath. This was our end.
I restrain myself from taking any steps towards him as I reach for the door behind me. The wooden panel swings open, gliding past my extended fingers as I’m met with the face of the Queen.
That same hand shoots up to touch my lips, remembering what just happened in here and I bow till my hair grazes the tiled floors. 
“Your Majesty,” I squeak. She looks at me with a million emotions and plants her glare at the Prince. Like pieces of a puzzle coming together, her face twists into anger, dissecting the situation. I take this as my cue to leave but the Queen shuts the door behind the both of us. I don’t hear the Prince make any moves to save me.
“What were you doing in there?” She angrily whispers between clenched teeth. Not sure what comes over me, but the fear I felt before is gone. Instead, I’m left feeling numb.
“Don’t worry. I was just saying goodbye.” I swallow, bracing myself for her reprimands. 
A beat passes, before she speaks, this time in a normal tone. “Are you done?” 
I nod, “Yes, and I’d like to be excused from attending the wedding to serve the cake.” The Queen’s eyebrows quirk up, shocked that I’ve made a request. I look her straight in the eyes so she knows I mean it.
“I can’t… I can’t be there for that. I believe I’ve done all the preparation I can and I am not needed to actually attend.” My confidence waivers, and I draw my attention back to the ground.
“Fair enough. You don’t have to attend. I’ll tell the other bakers to serve it.” I take my chance to meet her eyes again and I can almost see concern on her face. I shake my head of that ridiculous thought, and offer her my best smile.
“Thank you, your majesty.” I bow before dragging my feet off the palace grounds. Hoping to never set foot in here ever again.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Bells. I plan to remove all bells from my bakery. The royal wedding bells have been ringing all morning and I don’t need any more reminders moving forward. 
I spent the whole night crying after leaving the palace and then my anxiety kicked in, trying to get me to map out my life without him. Naturally, I planned to pour myself into work and here I am, out of bed, manning the shop by myself on his wedding day. I may have cried into a batch of dough in the morning, but baby steps are important. This is only day one anyways.
I realized I made a mistake leaving the house when I overheard everyone in town talk about the wedding of the century. I even let my employees off for the day, mainly to have my space to wallow alone. Practically everyone was outside the palace gates, waiting to get a glimpse of the couple. The streets were currently empty and I wonder if I should just close up shop. 
Right when I was about to count up the cash and close out the register, the bell on the door jingles. I’m halfway into the one dollar bills when I roll my eyes at the sound, pressing my lips together to stop a groan. I make a mental note to remove the bell before I leave.
I look up to check on the customer and I see a man with, of course, brown hair surveying the bread on the back wall. All I can see is the back of his head as he peruses. I scoff to myself at the instant fluttering of my chest at yet another brunette customer. Is no one blond anymore? Are gingers that rare for me to never encounter one in my bakery?
I finish counting the ones and I move onto the fives when I realize he’s still standing in the same spot. I’m organizing the bills in my hands as I examine him. Normal guy. Black hoodie. Jeans. 
Maybe he’s just really indecisive. I can see him tapping his foot from the counter. I decide to offer help after I finish counting the five dollar bills.
With the last dollar to count, I place it in the tray and slowly walk over to the man. As I get closer, my stranger danger instincts kick in and I suddenly regret my decision. His foot is still shaking and from this close, I can see him fidgeting with his sleeves in front of him. I grab a pair of tongs from the closest case and approach him.
“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you find something?” I have the tongs gripped with both hands, discreetly but ready to swing. 
I see his body tense and my breath hitches, thinking I’m really going to have to hit this man with my makeshift weapon.
He turns around painstakingly slow and I raise the tongs instinctively to block my face, before letting out a squeal.
But then I see his face. And different bells go off.
“Oh my god. Hyuck?”
The bags under his eyes are prominent and I finally notice the way his hair has been pulled in different directions. His lips are dry as he cracks a sheepish smile. He’s rubbing the back of his neck and notices the kitchen utensil in my hands.
“Were you gonna hit me?!” His mouth is open in surprise and he’s taking the tongs from my hands. I let him and put my hands up in defense.
“You were standing there for so long, all fidgety! I’m alone in here, what was I supposed to think?” I fight back, taking the tongs back and clutching it close to my chest.
He lets out a long sigh, seemingly frustrated with himself as he runs his hands through his hair. I hate that I find it attractive.
“Wait.” He looks up at me through his lashes, swallowing. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He blinks, knowing that question was coming. 
I expected to feel sick awaiting his answer, but instead my heart is racing, anticipating his next words. I almost feel that false hope I felt a week ago, and I try hard to deny it. But the way he’s looking at me leaves me with no doubts. 
I’m about to push him out the door when he digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. The wrinkled piece of paper from yesterday. He plays with it in his hands as he thinks about his next move.
“I was drafting a request to get the law changed.”
His words peak my interest. I set the tongs down and let him continue. Wrapping my arms around my waist for security, I’m fearful of what he has to say next.
“I’ve actually been working on it for the past two months.” He flattens the paper out in his hands. “You caught me finishing the final draft yesterday. I didn’t expect it to take up until my wedding day…” He laughs, unhumored by the situation. 
He hands it to me. “This is an old copy now, but it’s actually already being reviewed by the King. Right now. Being who I am, I fled just in case.” 
He looks at me anxiously as I read the top of the page, the words in bold:
Formal Petition to Repeal the Royal Marriage Ordinance 
Written By Prince Lee Donghyuck
My eyes don’t believe what’s written, like the royal letter I received not too long ago, requesting I bake the royal wedding cake. The same royal stamp and all rests in the top left corner. 
This time, I can read the words clearly. They settle into my chest, leaving me with such a funny feeling. I read the text and I can tell it’s written by him. I imagine him staying up every night after we meet in the kitchen, working by himself on this proposal. All of his hard work for the past couple months was printed on this very paper. All this work… for us. 
I feel my cheeks wet from pure joy and I cover the smile straining my mouth. A rush unfurls through my body like sweet, sweet sugar and I look up to share it with him. 
“Donghyuck… You-?”
“Marry me.” 
He gets down on one knee, holding my free hand. He’s rubbing that one spot on my ring finger and it feels unreal. The gleam in his eyes reminds me of the toasty fires in the oven, the glistening mangos on his favorite tart. His smile matches mine, nervous just slightly, and I want to paint this memory in my brain forever. The love and desperation in his eyes are begging me to think of him. Think of us. Every fear that had been eating away at me the past month was overcome by his pleas. This paper and his actions are proof that we can happen.
He continues, 
“Princess, please marry me. I’ve only wanted to marry you almost my entire life. I know that sounds crazy, but how can I doubt my obvious soulmate? You always come back to me, but I still don’t want another reason for you to have to leave. So please, trust me and trust us. Forget everything and everyone else and say you’ll marry me. If this petition doesn’t pass, I’ll continue to fight. Just…
Say you’ll be my princess forever.”
I tug his hand softly to get him to stand up. He obliges and I free my hands to hold his face. He finally breathes and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. I can feel him relax and his hands rest on my hips, drawn like a magnet. My mind is bouncing back and forth trying to contain the frenzy in my heart and the steady warmth of my core. I tap his eyelid lightly with my thumb and ask him to look at me. He opens them slowly, fear still trickling in his irises. I smile at him.
“My Prince,” His breath hitches. “I love you too.”
Donghyuck wastes no time tucking his head into my neck and lifting me against his body. He spins me around between the cases of bread and I giggle, feeling his heart beat erratically against mine. He softly lets my feet touch the ground and we’re looking at each other again, tears adding sparkles to his eyes. I wipe them away instantly.
“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers, but it feels like he said it with his whole being.
“Always.” I say with just as much commitment.
We’re cherishing the moment together, laughing at how happy we get to be, when the wedding bells go off once more. I look at him with confusion and he shrugs, just as lost.
“I can’t believe my wedding cake is going to waste,” I pout, remembering all my hardwork. And he squeezes my hip at my choice to be silly, snickering.
“I can’t believe you went with a lemon cake. Do you even know me?” He teases, pretending to be hurt. I gasp, slapping his chest.
“I’ll make sure to go with the mango tarts for ours.” I press a soft kiss on his lips and he smiles with me, pulling me unbelievably closer. 
“I like the sound of that,” Donghyuck hums.
“I’m sure you do.” I laugh.
Donghyuck and I stand there in each other’s arms for as long as our legs allow. We talk about the past, how it felt to leave each other. We talk about the garden and I admit to catching him talk to his mom, which explains everything he needs to know. Even as I’m profusely apologizing, he’s doing the same, saying sorry for putting me in such a situation. I choose to ask about Princess Soohae and he bites his lip nervously, telling me he hasn’t handled that predicament yet. I almost drag him out of the bakery at the sound of that. We even go over his repeal proposal and I call him out for some typos.
Eventually we move to the kitchen, doing what we do best, and what we’ve done for years, waiting for someone to find him. The Prince and his Princess.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
A/N: i hope you enjoyed!! pls like, reblog, reply, whatever!! if u want hehe
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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 9 months
Text
A Little Tag-a-Long - Hangman
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin / Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.
Warnings: Female Reader Referred to as "Peach", No Y/N, No Physical Description; Third Person POV; Named Niece OC (Chloe); Excessive Fluff
Summary: Hangman is excited to finally take out Peach, the woman that he's been in love with for months now. Except Peach gets called into babysitting duty right before their date.
Master List
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Hangman came walking down the stairs of the house that he shared with Coyote, freshly shaved with a shirt that he steamed for the occasion and hair that he spent twenty minutes styling in the mirror. The event in question? A first date. And not just any first date. A first date with the woman that he had been trying to convince to go out with him for about five months now.
They met at the Hard Deck, where she worked occasionally as a bartender, and he was quite sure that he was in love with her the second that he watched her masterfully cut down some drunk asshole who was trying to get handsy with one of the younger bartenders. And when Hangman tossed the jackass out of the bar for her, he thought that their love story was sealed. He was prepared to sell the rights to Hollywood and buy a beautiful house with it.
But it didn't exactly all go to plan. Even though Peach flirted back with him, she always turned down his offers to buy her dinner or take her out for drinks. She was incredibly busy, working full time and part time as a bartender, taking some extra classes to get another degree, and helping her sister raise her niece.
But now, about five months later than Hangman was hoping for, Peach, as he called her, finally accepted his invitation for a date.
“Aw, look at him! All dressed up for his little date,” Coyote cooed, jokingly fixing the collar of Jake’s shirt for him.
“Fuck off,” Jake scoffed, knocking Coyote’s hands away.
“Do you think he likes her?” Payback called from behind a chuckling Coyote.
“Aw, I think he does. Look at him,” Fanboy agreed, leaning on his pilot as he pointed over at Hangman.
“Hey, how much did you pay her to go out with you?” Rooster yelled from the couch.
“Maybe she’s just doing some charity work,” Phoenix stated, high-fiving Rooster without even looking.
“No, there’s no way that anyone would go on a date with Hangman for free,” Bob replied, sharing a high-five with his pilot without looking as well.
“You can all suck a dick,” Hangman called over his shoulder, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.
“Remember! Just don’t be yourself and you’ll be fine!” Rooster yelled back before Hangman slammed the door behind him.
Not letting the ribbing of his squad mates get to him, Jake straightened out his shirt and got in his truck to head over to Peach’s apartment. Pulling into the parking lot, Jake parked his truck and slowly got out, not trying to let his nerves show. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, Jake walked up to Peach’s front door and knocked lightly.
A few moments later, Peach opened the door with an apologetic smile. She wasn’t quite dressed for a nice dinner, but Jake wasn’t going to comment on it.
“Hey, Jake,” Peach breathed out with a small smile.
“Hey, Peach,” Jake returned, shifting on his feet. “You ready to go?”
“About that,” Peach replied, forcing another apologetic smile. “I don’t think that I can go to dinner.”
“What?” Jake breathed out, trying to not let his face crumble.
“My sister, she got called into work, and so, uh . . . I’m sort of on babysitting duty,” Peach explained, opening the door a bit wider.
Glancing around Peach, Jake spotted a young girl, perhaps two or four or some kind of age, he didn't know he was terrible with guessing kids ages, with her hair up in two French braids ending in yellow bows that matched her dress. The little girl stared at Jake suspiciously, which made him subconsciously straighten up.
“This is my niece, Chloe,” Peach explained, gesturing behind her. Looking completely apologetic, Peach shrunk a bit. “I’m so sorry, Jake, I know that you had this thing planned for a while and I really do want to go, but I can’t just leave Chloe here alone. And I don’t think that restaurant that you wanted to go to is child-friendly and—”
“—What if she came along?” Jake blurted out, causing Peach to pause.
“What?” she breathed out, surprised.
“What if she came with us? We don’t have to go to that restaurant,” Jake offered, trying to come up with something on the fly. “There’s that mini golf place, down by the water. I’ve never been but I’m sure that’s kid friendly.”
“You’re really okay with our first date involving my niece?” Peach asked, staring at Jake with wide eyes.
“Yeah, of course,” Jake replied, causing a genuine smile to tug on Peach’s lips.
“Okay,” she stated, perking up. “Just give me ten minutes to change and get Chloe ready. And we’ll take my car, since I’m assuming you don’t have a car seat in your truck.”
“No, I don’t,” Jake mused, chuckling lightly.
“Alright,” Peach laughed along. “Then it’s a date.”
~~~~~
Chloe was a quiet girl, but Jake assumed that was because she didn’t fully trust him to show her true colors. And though he had to catch a few swears in his throat before he actually said them, it was surprisingly unawkward on the drive over. And when they finally arrived at the mini golf course, it seemed that Chloe finally started to warm up to him.
“Jake, I’ll pay,” Peach insisted, trying to shove his wallet away.
“No, no, it’s a first date,” Jake replied, handing over his credit card first.
“I’m paying for dinner then,” Peach stated, lightly bumping Jake with her hip.
“What colors did you want for your golf balls?” the teenager sitting behind the till asked in a bored tone.
“What color did you want, Chloe?” Peach asked her niece, who was trying to peek up at the display. “They’ve got red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and—”
“—Purple!” Chloe quickly exclaimed, causing Jake to turn to the cashier with an amused smile.
“Well, that’s one purple. I’ll take a blue. And . . .”
“Green, please,” Peach finished for Jake, smiling softly.
Once they collected their balls and grabbed their golf sticks, Jake, Peach, and Chloe headed out to the first hole. It was a simple straight away with a hole in the middle of a big circle with a yellow flag sitting in the middle of it.
“Ladies first,” Jake offered, standing off to the side.
“Chloe, why don’t you start us off?” Peach suggested, gesturing for her niece to step up onto the green. “Aim for the little yellow flag at the end there.”
Chloe happily walked up to the fake grass and set her little purple ball down. Using her whole body to swing the putter, Chloe sent the ball ricocheting all around the green. After a couple choppy swings, Chloe finally got the ball into the hole.
“Good job, Chloe!” Peach praised, offering her niece a high-five.
After Peach finished up with her turn, it was Jake’s turn to tee up. Being raised by preppy new money businesspeople, Jake grew up spending a lot of time on the golf courses of East Texas. And so, he was quietly very good at mini golf. It was part of the reason why he suggested it in the first place. It didn’t hurt to show off a little bit to Peace.
And with one well-placed hit, Jake landed a hole in one.
“Wow!” Chloe gasped in surprise, running up to the hole to confirm that Jake’s blue ball went in. “How did you do that!?”
“Not my first rodeo,” Jake drawled, walking over to grab the ball. “I can teach you, if you want.”
Chloe nodded excitedly and quickly called for Jake and Peach to hurry up and head to the next hole. Jake turned to Peach to find her already looking and smiling at him.
“Thanks for being so nice to my niece,” Peach replied, stepping up onto the path.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Jake returned, smiling back at Peach.
They played through another five holes quickly. Chloe always started off and then Peach would follow and then Jake would finish up for the three of them. Peach kept score for everyone, though Chloe and Jake both tried to negotiate their own scores. On the sixth hole, Jake hit his second shot close to the hole, but the ball refused to go in.
“Nah ah! Three!” Chloe yelled to Peach, who shook her head playfully.
“What are you talking about? It’s two,” Jake called back.
“Nope. One, two, three!” Chloe counted, holding up three fingers.
In response, Jake got down on the ground. Laying flat, he started to blow air in the direction of the hole, trying to push the ball in with his breath. Chloe, immediately figuring out what he was trying to do, hurried to prevent Jake from landing the ball in the hole.
“No! You’re cheating!” she accused him, tugging on his shoulder. “It’s not fair!”
“What are you talking about? Don’t you feel that cross-breeze?” Jake joked before going back to blowing at the ball.
It eventually rolled in, causing Jake to smile triumphantly and Chloe to whine. They both turned to Peach, waiting for her verdict. Pretending to take a moment to decide, Peach raised her pencil and wrote down a clear ‘3’ on the score card. Showing Jake and Chloe her writing, Peach couldn’t help but laugh when Chloe jumped up and cheered.
“I told you! Ha!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jake pretended to huff, though he was clearly amused by the whole thing.
They moved on through the next couple of holes. The fourteenth hole was set up on a hill. It wasn’t possible to see the hole from the tee, but there was a little yellow flag up on top to give a general direction. Jake offered to walk up the hill to help direct Chloe and Peach towards the hole.
“It’s right here!” Jake called, holding up his hand and waving.
“Okay!” Chloe yelled back to him.
After a couple of attempts to hit the ball up the hill, and with a very clear look of frustration on her face, Chloe whacked the ball up the hill and into the circular area around the hole. The ball clacked against the back wall before slowly rolling in the direction of the hole before stopping a little bit more than a foot away from it.
From where Chloe and Peach were still standing, they couldn’t see where the ball landed. But for Jake, there was a clear opportunity. Keeping his gaze calm and focused forward, Jake moved the ball with his foot just enough for it to roll into the hole.
Chloe, with Peach right behind her, walked up the hill to see where the ball rolled. Chloe immediately frowned when she didn’t spot her bright purple ball sitting somewhere on the fake green grass. But when Jake gestured to the hole, Chloe froze in place for a moment before hurrying over to inspect the hole herself.
“I did it! I did it!” Chloe squealed, tugging excitedly on Peach’s arm. “I got a hole in one!”
“You sure did, Chloe,” Peach agreed, squeezing her niece in celebration. Peach shot Jake a knowing and dare he say enamored expression before turning back to Chloe. “You know what that means?”
“Yeah! You owe me ice cream!” Chloe shouted, pointing up at Peach.
“Yes, I do,” Peach chuckled, glancing up at Jake. “My treat.”
When Chloe was out of earshot, since she chose to remain up on the hill to stand guard by the flag, Peach turned to Jake with that same knowing, and dare he say enamored, expression. Smiling softly, she poked Jake lightly in the middle of his chest.
“You moved it, didn’t you?” she asked quietly before turning to line up her own shot.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jake drawled, glancing up the hill with a genuine smile.
~~~~~
After they finished up their round of mini golf, they headed inside to the small ice cream shop attached to the mini golf course. Eventually settling down outside at a table, the three of them enjoyed a cone or cup of ice cream each, and some extra sprinkles, in Chloe’s case. And with extra sprinkles seemed to come an extra mess.
"Chloe," Peach sighed, dabbing at her niece’s face and hand. “Try and aim for your mouth.”
“It’s melting!”
“That’s why I suggested the cup,” Peach replied gently, placing the extra cup in front of Chloe. “I’m going to grab some extra napkins too.” Turning to Jake, Peace offered him a small smile. “Do you need anything, Jake?”
“I’m all set, thanks.”
Peach got up to go and grab some napkins from inside the ice cream shop, leaving Jake and Chloe alone for a few moments. Jake watched Peach walk off until the door shut behind her. Turning back to Chloe, Jake almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Chloe staring him down with a serious expression.
“Why are you staring at my aunt like that?” Chloe immediately accused, causing Jake to straighten up.
“Like what?”
“Like that.”
Chloe took a menacing lick of her ice cream as she narrowed her eyes at Jake. Not really sure how to respond to the child, Jake tilted his head to the side.
“Okay . . .”
“My mommy said that you really like my auntie,” Chloe replied matter-of-factly.
“Your mom’s right,” Jake agreed, nodding along slowly. “I do really like your aunt.”
Chloe nodded curtly once in response to Jake, before quickly relaxing and going back to focus on her rapidly melting ice cream.
“She really likes you too,” Chloe stated, causing Jake to perk up.
“Really?”
“Yeah. She thinks that your eyes are pretty,” Chloe informed Jake, causing him to smirk proudly. “And she likes your butt. But I wasn’t supposed to hear that.”
“Secret’s safe with me,” Jake assured Chloe, shooting her a wink.
“Alright, this should be enough napkins,” Peach called to Chloe and Jake, causing them both to turn around. “Here, Chloe.” While Chloe and Peach worked together to clean Chloe up, Peach glanced between Jake and Chloe. “What did you guys talk about while I was gone?”
“Sprinkles,” Chloe lied easily, turning to her aunt with doe eyes.
“And about how they’re all over your arm?” Peach replied dryly, wiping them off of Chloe.
~~~~~
After finishing up their ice creams, they headed back to Peach’s apartment. Chloe was quickly coming down from a sugar high and Peach quietly guessed that it would be a quick dinner and bath before Chloe would be knocked out in her bed.
“Thank you for modifying our date,” Peach told Jake, turning to him with a soft smile. “I know that this probably wasn’t what you had in mind.”
“Are kidding? It’s the best first date that I’ve ever been on,” Jake replied, not even lying. “I’m just relieved that you finally agreed to go out with me.”
“And if I agreed to go out with you again?” Peach asked, glancing over at him with a playful smile. “Then how would you feel?”
“Well, now, that’s an indescribable feeling,” Jake stated, causing Peach to laugh.
She grabbed her keys and unlocked the door to her apartment. Chloe bounded inside, yelling a goodbye to Jake over her shoulder. Turning to Jake as she stepped inside her apartment, Peach straightened and tilted her chin up a bit.
“How about next week? I promise that I won’t be on babysitting duty for our next date.”
“I have Wednesday off,” Jake offered, his usual proud and confident demeanor returning in full force. “And I promise to make it worth your while.”
“Then it’s a date,” Peach agreed, unable to fight her smile.
“It’s a date,” Jake repeated, nodding to confirm. Glancing behind him, Jake took a step back from the door. “Have a good night. And tell Chloe that I had a great time hanging out with her.”
“I will. Good night, Jake.”
“Night.”
Turning to head down the stairs, Jake paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face Peach again, only for Peach to press her lips to his own. It took a moment for Jake to register that Peach—the woman that he may or may not have been in love with for the last five months—had initiated a kiss at the end of their first date.
Eager to take in the moment, Jake returned the kiss. Cupping Peach’s cheek with his hand, Jake wrapped an arm around Peach’s waist, causing her to arch a bit more into his chest. Peach smiled into the kiss and moved to deepen it. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, playing with his hair as Jake's hand started to wander a bit lower.
But then there was a startled shriek from behind them.
“GROSS!” Chloe screeched, covering her eyes with her hands.  
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sunmoonjune · 1 year
Text
masterlist
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an updated collection of the works of sunmoonjune. all works belong to sunmoonjune. do not copy, translate, or repost any of my works. I will no longer be updating the previous masterlist! I just needed a chance of pace to get back on track :))
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*please regard the warnings at the beginning of each fic! they are very important - please remember that you curate your own internet experience, so take heed to any and all warnings*
previous masterlist
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petrichor
a stray kids and ateez supernatural universe! 
choose your own adventure masterlist
in this masterlist, you’ll be guided to pick your first adventure: through the door of rising suns and rays of light or the door of starry skies and a midnight moon? 
once you pick your door, there will be links to the fics in each universe in the masterpost of the specific kingdom: the kingdom of dawn (ateez) and the kingdom of night (stray kids) 
there is lots of lore for each universe in these pieces! 
stray kids
oneshots
primordial: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [sea gods au, soulmate au]
[preview]
synopsis: “Oh no,” the deep voice spoke hushedly, “we cannot destroy something that has loved us so beautifully.” 
warnings: suggestive content! minors dni!! mentions of death, drowning injury, blood, poly relationships including member x member, swearing
rating: mature [due to suggestive content]
word count: 12.3k 
storm clouds at midnight: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem! reader [werewolf au, soulmate au]
synopsis: moving to a little woodside town, you discover a deep bond that connects you to eight wolves who reside in the forest aside your cottage. soon after your first meeting, you give into the enchanting magical connection and accept the pack leader’s challenge: if any of the wolves can catch you, you'll accept the mating bond (a silly proposal, considering you have long since accepted the connection)
warnings: intense suggestive content (not explicit smut, but damn well close) [minors dni!!], predator/prey, chasing, blood, injury, vulgar language, cursing, biting, choking 
rating: extremely mature! [minors pls do not interact!]
word count: 26.3k
↳ untitled drabble: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [storm clouds! universe] 
hyunjin, minho, chan, felix based 
synopsis: musings about hyunjin and his hair-tie stealing tendencies 
warnings: gets a little raunchy -- minors please dni! suggestive content and cursing 
↳ moonlit inferno: poly! ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [storm clouds! universe] 
synopsis: the wolf pack muses upon the mating chases that have occurred since your courting process finished. one resulted in your favor, the other in their own. while planning their tactic to win the next, they’re interrupted by your call with someone they had not expected. 
warnings: suggestive content!! predator/prey, chasing, cursing, vulgar language, choking, teasing, biting, minors please do not interact with this piece (you will get blocked!)
rating: mature! [minors dni]
word count: 10k 
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ateez
series
like the moon: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! oc!reader
*disclaimer: I tag the reader as an /oc/ just in case, but the reader here isn’t really an oc - she has a nickname and a backstory (as well as family figures), but she does not have any distinguishing features besides her scars and enough hair to tie rings into -- anything else is not mentioned so it’s still a reader insert, I just wanted to clarify for anyone who is confused! * 
one: the trial
two: a familiar face
three: puncture
four: honey
five: hatred
six: an anchor in storming seas
seven: angel
eight: reconciliation
nine: common ground
ten: new start
eleven: too slow
twelve: gone
thirteen: flames relit
fourteen: home 
fifteen: safe
sixteen: my hongjoong
seventeen: magpies
synopsis: it’s finally the day of your trial. you’ve been waiting for this day for years. will you succeed and become a warrior your clan can finally be proud of? or will you fail, and be banished from the village forever? 
warnings: graphic depictions of past torture, past abuse, gore, injury, death, threats, fighting, reader is nonverbal for much of this fic, previous familial abuse [this fic can be considered triggering in many aspects, pls be cautious and heed the warnings at the beginning of each chapter!]
rating: mature
word count: 160k 
status: in progress
↳ extra lore! some extra detail on her mask 
↳ extra lore! the semiotics of a long bow: a glimpse into the symbols seonghwa carves into his longbow
↳ spring tides: a like the moon oneshot
synopsis: the ateez clan celebrate your birthday <3 
warnings: vague mentions of eating disorder, death and torture, scars, ptsd, very fluffy! a lot of comfort! not so dark this time xD I did not proofread this :D 
rating: teen 
word count: 14.1k 
oneshots
dewdrops at dawn: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! reader [demon au, soulmate au] [petrichor! universe]
synopsis: you’ve never really believed in angels, or anything of the sort, but in a last ditch effort to escape a grave situation – you find yourself to praying for someone - anyone - to come help you. 
“wow, you would not believe how fast angels are! I had to fight like six of them to answer your call!” 
warnings: creepy men, implied chubby!reader, social anxiety, implied neurodivergency, cursing, being followed, drunk assholes, blood, death, minor gore, intense sexual themes [minors dni!!], heavy suggestive content 
rating: mature [minors dni!]
word count: 17.2k
mist at daybreak: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! reader [demon au, soulmate au] [petrichor! universe]
[preview]
synopsis: a one shot to continue dewdrops at dawn. 
as you officially settle into life in Hell, a few problems arise. the first comes in the form of nightmares - or memories, you suppose - memories of your death. images of blood and tears, the sight of your grieving mates, and the weak plea of a promise are all you can see. 
“forever, angel.” he promises, voice weak as tears muddle his vision. “forever. I promise.” 
warnings: blood, death, cursing, mourning, suggestive content, mentions of vomit
rating: mature [minors dni]
word count: 5.7k [preview] 
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jujutsu kaisen
series
house-elves & moondew: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [hogwarts au] 
chapter one
synopsis: “you must be some wizard,” Suguru huffs softly, a warm smile gracing his features as his dark eyes drift over you. his chest sings with a giddy lightness, feeling the butterflies in his stomach turn when a little grin pulls at your features. 
when you tilt your head in confusion, Satoru continues for his partner. “You’ve bewitched us,” he murmurs softly, voice warm and husky as he leans close, “body and soul - without even uttering a single spell.” 
warnings: social anxiety, reader has implied trauma, violence, injury, blood, death, death eaters, heavy suggestive content [minors dni!!], cursing
rating: mature [minors dni!]
word count: 15k
status: ongoing
oneshots
in their loving hands: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [mafia au, kindergarten teacher au]
synopsis: you’re a hard working kindergarten teacher, just trying to earn enough money to move out of your run-down apartment. everything is normal, or as much as it can be, until two men drop their daughters off in your kindergarten classroom. Nanako and Mimiko quickly become two of your favorite students, and their unreasonably attractive fathers have nothing to do with it - you promise! 
warnings: blood, death, cursing, mentions of cheating, insecurity, being followed/chased, being attacked, mentions of sexual content! 
rating: mature 
word count: 18.8k
gods and monsters: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [pacific rim au]
synopsis: six years after you lose your jaeger co-pilot, the Marshall finds you working on the coastal wall; he’s adamant you return to your station, but you can’t imagine piloting a jaeger with anyone who isn’t your brother. when you’re talked into returning to base, you’re met with the world’s two best jaeger pilots. 
warnings: blood, death, gore, cursing, mounters, past trauma, reader has a brother, fighting, angst, heavy suggestive content [minors dni!] 
rating: mature [minors dni!]
word count: 27.6k
raspberry leaves: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [jjk au] [family!au]
synopsis: reader has severe period cramps in the middle of the night and hides in the bathroom to try to deal with her agony. geto wakes to your figure missing in bed and worries. how can he help your pain? 
warnings: periods, severe cramp, painkillers, fainting, mentions of vomiting, cursing, fathers!gojo and geto, megumi tsumiki nanako and mimiko are your kids :D 
rating: teen 
word count: 12.5k 
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works in progress 
*these are works that are currently being drafted - fics will only be added to this list if they have portions written!* 
kpop groups
mist at daybreak: poly!ot8 ateez x fem!reader [dewdrops at dawn universe]
thunder at twilight: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [stormclouds at midnight universe]
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planned
all of my stars: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [jujutsu universe, geto doesn’t defect, happy!au lol] 
our own constellations: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [primordial universe] 
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1K notes · View notes
joelsgreys · 7 months
Text
Talk Tonight l Part 1 (Joel Miller x OC Female Reader)
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Series Masterlist
Summary: After their flight home is canceled, two complete strangers decide to spend the entire night getting lost together in one of the most beautiful cities in the world—what could go wrong?
Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x OFC Camila Mendoza
Warnings/Tags: 18+ Only Minors DNI. NO big age gap, Joel is 35 and Reader is 29. Reader is a mixed woman of color, she is multilingual, although it is written in second person POV (I am terrible at doing third person, sorry) she does come with a name. I also do give her a physical description EXCEPT for her body type (she is shorter than Joel though). Ultimately, if you choose to read this story, you’re more than welcome to read it how you want! If you want to picture her as I write her or as your own—whatever tickles your fancy!
Chapter Warnings/Tags: preface angst (I sorry), we have our girl Sarah, Tommy is a pain in the ass but we love him, airport meet cute, Camila has a physical description, talk of her career and profession, I think that’s about it.
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: Well, here she is. My lil passion project. It has been kind of nice to write something with zero expectations, not going to lie. No pressure, just straight vibing with this one. This chapter is quite tame, not a whole lot of action yet, but it obviously sets the story up for the good stuff. Tbh, the next chapter is my FAVORITE of the whole series and I almost wish I could skip this part and post that one because when I tell you it is cute, it is so fucking cute lmao. But anyway. I know this series might not gain a ton of traction, but I hope that the few people who DO read this enjoy my OC and grow to love her as much as I have and that you love this story as well. Also I just want to shoutout Doni @morning-star-joy for being so lovely to me and supporting my idea and letting me scream about Camila to her. 🩷
Charles De Gaulle Airport
Paris, France 
September 26th, 2002
07:00 Hours
“I beg your pardon?”
Startled by the sound of that rich, deep voice, that heavy Southern drawl that had become so familiar to you over the last nine hours, you lifted your face from your hands and whipped around in your seat; you’d turned so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. Your lips parted slightly in surprise when you saw Joel Miller standing there in the aisle with his plane ticket clutched in his hand.
He looked at you, then his dark eyes flickered over to the man sitting next to you. “Sorry I don’t mean to be a bother, but would you mind swappin’ seats with me?” He asked, politely. “I’ve got a good seat up in business class. It’s all yours if you’re willin’ to switch with me.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”
Joel shook his head. “There ain’t no catch, sir.”
“There has to be a catch,” he said, suspiciously.
“Ain’t no catch at all. It’s all yours, no extra charge, sir,” he told him, earnestly. “It’s more comfortable; there’s plenty of legroom. There’s also free food, a better selection of movies to watch. Oh and all the complimentary drinks that you can toss back from here to Austin,” Joel added, practically shoving his ticket right under the man’s nose. He hoped it had been enough to tempt him into agreeing to switch with him. “So? What do you say? Can we swap?”
“Well, I say you had me at complimentary drinks,” he remarked with a grin. He stood up, grabbed his carry on bag from the overhead compartment and took the ticket from Joel’s hand. Eagerly, he made his way up the aisle towards the front of the plane.
Dumbfounded, you couldn’t help but stare at Joel, your eyes widening as he slid himself into the seat beside you. “Hi baby,” he greeted you, his lips, soft and warm, brushing against your temple.
“Joel?” You sniffed, quickly dabbing at your damp, swollen eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I’m confused. What in the world are you doing here? Is this even allowed?”
“It’s fine, Mila. I asked one of the flight attendants, she said it was okay so long as he agreed to it.” He put on his seatbelt and glanced over, noticing that your own seatbelt remained unfastened. Reaching over, Joel grabbed the two straps and pulled them around your hips, buckling it for you. He then gave it a firm tug to make sure it was secure. He felt the way you were looking at him and murmured, “Just wanna make sure you’re safe, baby. That’s all.”
“Joel,” You whispered his name thickly. “Seriously, what are you doing back here?”
Joel’s eyes met yours. “If I can get just a few more hours with you, I’m gonna take them. Camila, I will take every last second I can get with you, alright?”
“But—”
You stopped, clamping your mouth shut as a fresh batch of hot tears threatened to spill over.
“C’mere.” He cupped your cheek with his opposite hand and delicately tucked your face into the spot between his neck and his collarbone, soothing you softly, “I’m here, baby. It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
You clutched fistfuls of his denim jacket and clung to him desperately—it was almost as if you’d been clinging onto dear life itself.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Joel promised. “We’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. We’re gonna be okay.”
But that couldn’t have been father from the truth.
You and Joel weren’t going to be okay.
You knew that.
And he did too.
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Charles De Gaulle Airport
Paris, France 
September 25th, 2002
21:00 Hours
“You’re still in Paris?” Sarah shrieked loudly.
Wincing, Joel pulled his Nokia away from his ear.
She had nearly blown his goddamn eardrum out.
“Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke?”
He sighed heavily, tiredly rubbing at the side of his face with his opposite hand.
He should have known, expected even, that Sarah wouldn’t take the news of his current predicament all too well—she wouldn’t take it well at all.
Joel brought his phone back to his ear. “Sorry, but unfortunately this ain’t a joke, babygirl,” he replied to her after a minute, letting out another sigh. Joel glanced across the crowded airport lounge and he squinted over at the big digital sign hanging above the airline’s counter displaying all the details of his flight home to Austin, Texas. Even after about four hours, it still flashed red, signaling to everyone the flight was still very much delayed due to the harsh weather conditions on the route. Like Joel, several other passengers were growing restless. “We were supposed to take off a few hours ago, but there’s a pretty bad storm on the East Coast—”
Sarah cut him off with a dramatic groan.
“Oh, come on man! Are you fucking serious?”
“Hey now, you had best watch your language!” He chastised his teenaged daughter. “Don’t you think for one second that I ain’t gonna ground your little behind from halfway across the world, missy. I will ground you right from this airport.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, I leave you alone with Uncle Tommy for one weekend—”
“Tell me you’ll be home by tomorrow night, dad.”
He could hear the disappointment in her tone.
As if she already knew she would be let down.
Joel couldn’t blame her.
“I’m not sure when I’ll be home,” he admitted. “It’s lookin’ like the flight might get even canceled.”
“But tomorrow’s your birthday!” Sarah cried. “You have to be home for your birthday.” There’s a long, silent pause on her end of the line, but just as Joel was about to ask her if she was still there, she said in a sad, devastated voice, “It was supposed to be a surprise, but Nana and Grandpa are coming into town tomorrow. We planned a big birthday dinner, even ordered a special cake and everything. You’re always working on your birthday, we haven’t had a chance to properly celebrate it together in years.”
Joel’s heart sank, the guilt creeping in. “Sarah, I’m sorry, babygirl—”
“You just can’t be stuck in Paris, dad. You can’t—”
Suddenly, he heard Tommy in the background.
“Wait a damn minute, what did you just say? He’s stuck where, now? You’ve gotta be—here, give me the phone, kiddo.” There’s another long pause and then his younger brother’s voice came on the line. “What the hell do you mean you’re stuck in Paris?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Joel replied, flatly.
“You better be fuckin’ talkin’ about Paris, Texas.”
“Christ, Tommy! Watch your fuckin’ mouth around my daughter,” he hissed, knowing damn good and well that Sarah was standing beside him, listening to him. “I’m stranded at the goddamn airport here in France. I’ve been sittin’ on my ass for hours now just waitin’ around. My flight’s delayed due to that big storm over on the East Coast,” he explained. “I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here since they grounded all air traffic to the States. Nothin’s flyin’ out in that direction right now.”
“Oh c’mon, that can’t be true! Somethin’s gotta be flyin’ out of that airport to the United States. Have you tried switchin’ airlines?”
Annoyed, Joel snorted and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Tommy, that ain’t how it fuckin’ works, you moron. Nothin’ is flyin’ out in that direction right now,” his voice was firm as he repeated himself. “That really so goddamn fuckin’ hard to understand?”
“Those Europeans put somethin’ in your water?”
“The hell you fuckin’ talkin’ about?”
“‘Cause your ass is crankier than usual, brother.”
Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his composure.
Even in his late twenties, Tommy refused to grow the fuck up and it often drove him to his wits end.
“Look, this long distance call is costin’ me a damn fortune, so listen and listen good, ‘cause I ain’t got a whole lot of time left,” Joel snapped. “I need you to do me a real big favor, alright?” Without waiting for a response from his brother, he continued, “It’s Sunday, so I need you to make sure that Sarah got all of her homework done this weekend. But check it for yourself—and don’t let her lie to you, Tommy. She’ll swear to you she did it, even if she didn’t. I’ll also need you to take her to school tomorrow. She can’t be late again. Her homeroom teacher already chewed me out for droppin’ her off after first bell. I need you to get her there before eight o’ clock. Do you think you can handle that for me?”
Tommy clicked his tongue. “Sorry I wasn’t listenin’ to you, what did you just say?”
Joel’s jaw clenched. “Tommy, I swear to Christ—”
He laughed. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Joel. I got it all handled, okay? Uncle Tommy to the rescue.”
“Uncle Tommy’s a fuckin’ idiot,” Joel mumbled. “It ain’t a joke. Can I trust you to do this for me or do I need to call Mrs Adler and ask her for her help?”
“I’m a little offended,” Tommy scoffed out. “I think I’ve been takin’ real good care of Sarah on my own over these last few days since you’ve been gone. I mean, she’s alive and she’s breathin’ ain’t she?”
“Tommy—”
“Relax, Joel. I’ll check out her homework tonight, I promise. And I’ll get her to school tomorrow, make sure she ain’t late. You can trust me. Alright?”
“Not like I’ve got much of a choice,” he muttered.
“That’s the spirit.”
Joel rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotta go. Tell Sarah I love her and I’ll do my best to make it home on time for that not so surprise special birthday dinner Mama and Pop are comin’ into town for tomorrow night.”
“You got it, big brother.”
Joel ended the call and then shoved his Nokia into the pocket of his faded, black denim jacket.
He had to get back home by tomorrow night.
If he didn’t, Sarah would be absolutely crushed.
He’d spent his last three birthdays working double shifts just to help make ends meet—but ever since he finally got his construction business going with Tommy, the hours had been even more brutal now that it was just the two of them doing big jobs. He swore both to himself and to Sarah he would try to take more time off—for birthdays, holidays, soccer tournaments, dance recitals. To spend more of his time with her.
So far, he hadn’t been able to keep his word.
He felt like a jackass for it, but what could he do?
It wasn’t just about paying the bills anymore.
Sarah would be turning fourteen next year.
In a few years, he’d be putting her through college.
He needed to work to secure her future for her.
Joel sank back into his chair, taking a look around; his dark eyes scanned the lounge with disinterest.
That’s when you caught his attention.
Caught it and held onto it with a vice like grip.
Joel’s throat went dry.
Christ, you were so fucking beautiful.
Dark brown curls, soft skin the color of deep sand.
Your white sundress only accentuated the warmth of your smooth complexion, giving you a glow that was so radiant it knocked the wind from his lungs, making it hard for him to catch an even breath.
You were sitting in the row of chairs opposite his, a couple chairs down. He couldn’t be too sure, but it seemed like you were traveling alone—the chair on your left was empty and the one on your right held your tan leather satchel bag. Your nose was buried deep into a worn out, paperback book and he took notice of the way you would take the ballpoint pen that you had tucked behind your ear, using it to jot down notes on the crinkled, yellowing pages every so often. Then you would put the pen back behind your ear with a the tiniest, satisfied little grin.
Joel swallowed, his throat bobbing harshly.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.
You must have felt his stare because you suddenly looked up from your book, meeting his gaze. You’d seemed a bit startled at first, but then flashed him a pleasant, friendly smile.
Embarrassed, Joel quickly turned away from you.
Way to go you fuckin’ idiot, he thought to himself, silently. She probably thinks you’re a damn creep.
He feigned a sudden interest in the airplane that is parked right outside the gate, the very same plane he was supposed to have boarded four hours ago.
“Êtes-vous coincé ici aussi?”
The sweet, feminine voice came from beside him.
Startled, Joel looked to see you’d moved, and now occupied the once empty seat next to him.
“Uh, sorry. I don’t speak French,” he sputtered out nervously.
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” You said, making the effortless transition from French to English. “I just assumed, but I shouldn’t have.” Tossing him a soft and apologetic smile, you asked, “So then, you are an American too?” Of course, there was no reason to ask such a question when the answer was quite obvious, but you were trying to get a conversation with him going.
“Yeah.” Joel winced, mentally kicking himself over how curt he’d sounded. “I’m from Texas.”
Your hazel green eyes glimmered with amusement and you flashed him a brilliant smile that made his heart skip a beat or two inside his chest.
“I thought I detected a hint of a Southern drawl.”
“Oh trust me, it ain’t just a hint, darlin’.”
You threw your head back slightly, laughing. “Well, hello there cowboy,” You teased him, playfully. You were even more stunning up close and all he could do was hope that you couldn’t tell how nervous he was underneath the surface—eager to be chatting up a stunning woman like you, but still nervous.
“So what did you ask me just a minute ago?”
“I asked if you’ve been stuck here like me.”
Joel grinned, feeling a little more courageous.
“Ain’t it obvious what flight I’m waitin’ on, angel?”
“Oh very much so, cowboy.” Grinning back at him, you leaned back into your chair and made yourself comfortable. “I’m waiting on that same flight too.”
Joel chuckled. “At this rate we’d get to Austin a lot faster by swimmin’ across the Atlantic.”
“It’s too bad I don’t know how to swim. Otherwise, I’d say let’s get paddling,” You kidded, causing him to laugh again. “How long were you here in Paris?”
“Few days,” he answered. “Buddy of mine married his longtime girlfriend here. I was his best man.”
You wrinkled your nose at him. “Really?”
Amused, he asked, “Somethin’ wrong with that?”
“I mean, getting married in the most romantic city in the entire world? Don’t you think that’s just a bit cliché?”
Joel shrugged. “I suppose it is,” he agreed. “Come to think of it, can’t get more cliché than that. But I couldn’t say no to Wyatt. He’s been my best friend since we were in diapers,” he explained. “He asked me to be his best man. I couldn’t say no to him, no matter how fuckin’ cliché the whole thing was—”
He suddenly stopped, face burning.
“Sorry darlin’,” he apologized, sheepishly. “I should mind my manners. It ain’t polite to curse when I’m in the presence of a lovely lady.”
Your laugh sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.
Waving a hand, you assured him, “It’s totally fine. I don’t it mind at all.”
Joel smiled, angling his body towards you.
His nerves hadn’t disappeared, not completely.
But as the seconds ticked by, he felt more at ease.
Talking to you felt as natural as breathing.
Joel decided to turn the tables. “What about you? How long were you here for?”
“Oh, I wasn’t. I’m actually just here on a layover.”
“From where?”
“Somalia.”
Joel frowned. “I damn near failed geography when I was in high school. You’re gonna have to help me out a little here, darlin’. Where’s Somalia?”
“East Africa.”
“Africa?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had never been into traveling—he preferred to stay put in his bubble in Texas. Flying out to Paris for Wyatt and the wedding had been Joel’s first time leaving the United States. He never had a desire to go and see the world, nor the interest. But he would have been lying if he said you hadn’t piqued his interest with such an unexpected answer. “What were you doin’ down there?”
“Working. I’m a traveling physician.”
Joel’s mouth fell open slightly. “You’re a doctor?”
You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that such a surprise?”
“How old are you?”
“It’s not polite to ask a lady her age,” You smacked his arm playfully. “Don’t you know that?”
He flushed. “Sorry, it’s just—you seem a bit young to be a doctor, that’s all. I wouldn’t have thought.”
Tilting your head to the side, you asked, “Well how old do you think I am, cowboy? And don’t lie to me just to stay in my good graces. I won’t be offended by your guess, I promise.”
“Twenty five?” Joel guessed, honestly. “Or twenty six?”
“You flatter me, but no. I’ll be thirty in December.”
“So tell me, doc. How long were you in Africa?”
“About a month,” You replied. “I was there with my team to visit some of the villages in Somalia to see families in need of basic healthcare. We offer them medicine and supplies, we offer vaccines. I tend to the children, mostly. I specialize in pediatrics.”
Joel couldn’t help but stare at you in awe.
“What?”
“That’s just really impressive,” he admitted. After a minute, he found himself asking, “Now that you’re done workin’ down there, are you goin’ back home to Austin for a while? That where you’re from?”
You shook your head, and he hoped he didn’t look as disappointed as he felt.
“I’m from Laredo,” You said. “But then I moved for college. I did pre-med at The University of Texas in Austin.”
“You visitin’ your old stompin’ grounds?” he joked.
“Something like that.” You giggled. “One of my old professors, he invited me to give a lecture to some of his students who are interested in medicine and might want to pursue careers in the field—I’ll only be in Austin for a day, then it’s off to my next work assignment.”
Joel shot you another incredulous look.
“What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“I just figured you’d have to be some old geezer to give a lecture to college students.”
“Nope. You just have to be really good at what you do,” You winked at him. “That’s all.”
Before Joel could say another word, an attendant at the airline counter picked up their radio to make an announcement over the intercom—the flight to Austin had been canceled and all passengers were required to book a new one for the following day.
There was a collective groan in the lounge.
“Well, that’s a bummer,” You let out a tiny sigh and stood up, slinging the long, thick strap of your bag over your shoulder. Turning towards him, you gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for talking to me. It was nice having some company.” Lightly touching his shoulder, you said, “Good luck in getting home tomorrow, cowboy.”
Retracting your hand, you whirled around.
Joel jumped to his feet, ready to stop you.
But it was too late.
With the hustle and bustle of everyone scrambling towards the airline ticket counter, he’d quickly lost you in the massive crowd of people.
Joel craned his neck, searching around for you.
“C’mon,” he muttered. “Where’d you go?”
Finally, after a couple of minutes, Joel spotted you walking away from one of the counters with a new plane ticket in hand.
He didn’t even have to think twice about it.
Making his way through the crowd, Joel rushed to the counter and up to the same blond woman who had assisted you. “That girl who was just here, the one with the dark curly hair,” he said. “Can you tell me which flight she booked?”
The attendant gave him a strange look. “Yes she is on the first flight available to Austin,” she stated in a thick, French accent. “Seven in the morning.”
“I need to be on that flight,” Joel told her. Noticing the hint of annoyance on her face, he added in the most polite tone he could muster, “Please. And I’d like the seat next to hers, if it’s possible.”
She shot him another odd look, but typed away at her keyboard and checked the computer screen.
“My apologies, Monsieur. But the seat next to her has already been booked by another passenger.”
“What ‘bout one close to her, then?” He tried.
“I am afraid the only seats left available are at the very back of the plane or business class.”
Joel sighed. He pulled his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans and handed her his credit card.
“Fine. I’ll just upgrade to a business class seat.”
The attendant nodded. “Of course, Monsieur.”
Once he was all set, he thanked her and started to make his way through the lounge and towards the exit. He walked outside and took a look around the terminal, his eyebrows pulling together.
He knew the chances of finding you were slim, but he took comfort in knowing that he would see you in the morning on the flight back to Austin.
Until then, he had about nine hours to kill.
“Suppose there’s worse cities to be stuck in,” Joel muttered to himself. Most places had translations, and he figured he could get by on his own alright. The hotel he’d stayed at with the wedding party, it wasn’t too far from the airport—after a drink and a bite to eat, he could book a room for the night and crash until the morning.
He started down the sidewalk, but then stopped—out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of your curls and his stomach fluttered eagerly.
You were standing in line waiting for a cab holding what appeared to be a map in your hands.
Before his mind and body could even try making a connection, he found himself walking over to you.
“Hey there,” Joel greeted as he approached you.
You looked up from your map and beamed at him.
“Hey! Did you manage to get a new flight home?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I did. I’m on the first one out to Austin at seven o’ clock in the mornin’.”
Your smile widened. “I’m on that one too!”
“You don’t say,” Joel said in a nonchalant tone. He didn’t want to admit he already knew that. “Well, if that just ain’t a funny coincidence.” His eyes fell to the map in your hands. “What’cha got there?”
“A map to the city.”
He laughed. “Gonna go sightseein’ or what?”
“I am indeed going sightseeing, actually.”
Joel’s smile faltered. “You serious? At this time?”
“I’ve been to Paris a couple of times before. I have always wanted to see it at night, but never had the guts to do it,” You confessed. “But here I am stuck for the next nine hours, so I suppose tonight is the night I finally do it.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I prefer the term adventurous.” Folding your map, you looked at him. “What about you, cowboy? You have anything planned for your night?”
Joel shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Was gonna go grab a bite to eat and then get a hotel room to crash in.”
He was tempted, oh so tempted, to ask you to join him for a late dinner and drinks—just when he had worked up the courage to go for it, you spoke.
“Did you get to see the city while you were here?”
“I didn’t see much of anythin’,” he admitted. “With the weddin’ and all, I didn’t have the time. It ain’t a big deal, though. I ain’t a big sightseein’ kinda guy to begin with, you know?”
You raised your eyebrows at him. “Wait a minute, I just want to make sure I have this straight—you’ve got an entire commitment free night in Paris, and you’re going to spend it cooped up in some hotel room?”
Joel shrugged. “I reckon I am.”
“No way.” You grabbed his arm and started to pull him over towards an available cab. “You’re coming with me tonight.”
“Wait just a minute, darlin’—”
Ignoring him, you continued to drag him along. “It would a crime if you didn’t see this city before you go back home,” You stated, opening the back door to the car. You tried shoving him into the backseat but he caught himself on the roof of the vehicle.
“Whoa, whoa. Hold on there a second, angel,” he said with a chortle. “You’re really just gonna spend a whole night in a foreign city with a complete and total stranger you just met half an hour ago? What if I’m some kinda serial killer?”
You blinked. “Are you a serial killer?”
“Well no I ain’t a serial killer, but my point is—”
“Then we’re fine,” You chirped. “Come on, let’s go. There’s no time to waste.”
Pushing past him, you climbed into the backseat.
“You coming?” You asked over your shoulder.
Joel chuckled, sliding in next to you.
“Guess I am.”
He shut the door behind him—this was happening and yet somehow it didn’t even feel real.
A chance to spend the entire night with you?
It just didn’t feel real to him.
“I’m Camila,” You introduced yourself, extending a hand towards him.
He took your hand, holding it in his.
“Camila,” Joel repeated with a smile. “That’s a real pretty name for a real pretty girl.”
You grinned.
“How about you, cowboy? You got a name?”
“Joel. Joel Miller.”
You gave his hand a squeeze.
“Well Joel Miller, it seems like we aren’t complete and total strangers anymore, are we now?”
His own grin widened. “No, darlin’ I suppose we ain’t.”
254 notes · View notes
joonberriess · 4 months
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⊹₊ ⋆ “i just been fantasizin', and we got a lotta time, baby, come throw the pipe, gotta know what it's like,”
TAGS — vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pussy eating, light degradation, slight dirty talk, jk’s possessive here, oc’s a cute bean, daddy kinks, some nipple play, public sex, unrealistic sex to me bc how tf did no one see???, pimp!jk, stripper!oc, oc needs to know, WAP WAP WAP, this is for my birthday babes, praise kink(?), happy birthday @hyunjinswifeee this is late sorry :((
WORD COUNT — 3.3 k
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Wanna know what it's like, baby, show me what it's like, I don't really got no type, I just wanna fuck all night,
The crowd becomes completely immersed in your smooth hip gyrations and body rolls, they holler and catcall while endless money falls at your feet. Tonight’s a special night, you figured why not spend it at work getting money rained on you. All you really had to do was dance because your oh so lovely boss prohibited you from being requested by the club patrons.
Speaking of your boss, he too was in the crowd just right above you in his private balcony. He was watching with those dark onyx eyes of his, filled with desire and hunger. Each time you looked up he was staring right back down. Jungkook looked so fucking good sprawled out like that over the velvet couch with one hand nursing a glass of whiskey, his hair wild and unkept. Just the display of dominance and power had you weak in the knees.
You bit your bottom lip and slowly ran your hands down your body before reaching back to grip the pole tightly and slowly walking around it. You wanted him to know that you were very much on the same page. The cheers from everyone spurred you on as you spun high on the pole with your head thrown back, the screams grew louder and the crowd wilder as they fought each other to get a better view.
I just been fantasizin', and we got a lotta time, baby, come throw the pipe, gotta know what it's like,
You hold your breath and slowly slide down as your eyes flicker back up to Jungkook who is now standing leaned over the balcony. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, tongue poking the inside of his cheek and a lit cigar sitting in his hand. You decide to kick it up a notch. Just a tiny bit.
The lights suddenly go out and your shadow is illuminated by fuschia pink LED lights all around you. No one can see a thing but your silhouette as you reach behind you to unclip your bra. The club goers lose it as you dangle the item teasingly in the air before tossing it into the crowd wishing it was Jungkook you were throwing it at.
“More, more, more,” they chant as you move sensually. Luckily another bouncer comes to hand you another bra top to put on just before the lights around you snap back on.
You're exciting, boy, come find me, your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me" fuck that feeling both us fighting, could he try me? Mmm, most likely,
You mouth along to the song while staring right at Jungkook, a tiny smile adorning your lips as you spin around once more on the pole. You don’t look over for the rest of the dance because you’re too nervous to face the outcome. This was the first time you’ve pulled a move other than looking at him and giving Jungkook “fuck me” eyes.
When the show ends you’re pulled to the side by a squealing Soyeon and a giggling Soojin. “Did you not fucking see the look he gave you when you did that?!” Soyeon gasps, “He literally looked so fuckin’ pissed—in a good way though—like he did that thing he does with his tongue and cheek and then he pulled one of his guys to the side!”
“He wants you for real.” Soojin smirks as she pokes your side, “Looks like the birthday girl is gonna get some dick tonight.” She coos in your ear while cupping your tits in her hands, “So what’s your plan, hmm?” She lays her chin over your shoulder, Soyeon nods too and waits for your response.
You contemplate for a second but quickly make up your mind, “I think you guys already know,” you lean back into Soojin with a playful little smile, “who wouldn’t?”
“True,” Soyeon nods, “but you have to tell us the details okay? You gotta tell me if that thing he’s carrying is like nine inches or something.” She looks pretty serious and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat as you reply ‘then why don’t you find out?’ She gives you an almost offended look, “Girl that’s your man first of all, secondly I got my own.” She winks.
The three of you chat a little more until Namjoon, one of Jungkook’s closest bodyguards, comes through the door searching the room. When he makes eye contact with you he strides over with a friendly demeanor, “y/n, right?” He tilts his head a little to the side, “Jungkook’s asking for you, said if you could meet him up in the balcony?”
You nod in a heartbeat, “I’m just gonna clean up a little, ‘m a little sweaty ‘n stuff.” You softly reply as Soojin gets to quickly re-touching your makeup. He nods understandingly and murmurs a low “Come up when you’re ready.” After he leaves, Soojin and Soyeon slowly turn to you with little smirks on their faces and brushes in their hands.
.
When you reach the balcony you come across Jungkook sprawled out on the sofa with both arms stretched out. He looks a hot mess with the way his tie is hazardously tossed to the side and his white button-up sits messily undone over his chest. “Seems like we’ve finally met.” He hums.
“Hello Mr Jeon,” you softly greet like the polite little thing you are. Your eyes flicker down to the gold cross hanging over his chest, not missing the way his eyes flashed when you said ‘Mr Jeon’. It’s nerve wracking looking into his eyes because Jungkook always held eye-contact and you hated how he made you cower in delight, “I thought I wasn’t allowed to be requested by patrons.”
Jungkook chuckles quietly and brings the cigar up to his lips taking a long drag from it, “Oh? And does that include me too sweetheart?” A pleasant little shiver runs down your spine when the pet name rolls off his tongue so smoothly. You find yourself craving for more.
“I don’t know,” you softly say while inching closer, you come to a stop in front of him, “does my boss consider himself to be included..?” You teasingly run your finger over his shoulder and slowly lower yourself on his thigh, “Does he?” Jungkook’s nostrils flare as he blows the smoke to the side, dropping the cigar on to the ashtray below.
“You wanna give me a dance, is that it sweetheart?” Jungkook drawls out lazily. His eyes inch downwards as he admires the pretty little “outfit” you got on. It reminds him of the little show you put on out there.
Your breath hitches when he grabs the hanging garter string between two fingers and twirls it around in his hold. “...is a dance what you want?” You reply breathily.
Jungkook lays his hand flat on your thigh and strokes over it slowly, idly rubbing his hand up and down over the soft skin. “You offering me more sweetheart?” He licks his lips, “You gonna be a good girl and put on a show like out there—give me a private show just for little ol’ me?” He leans closer to you with his hot breath fanning over your chin and lips.
“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, “ ‘s not fair.”
He grins and noses along your jawline towards your slender neck, “Not fair? How so sweet girl?” He whispers as his thumb rubs soothing circles on your inner thigh, “Hm?” He blows in your ear causing goosebumps to form all over your body.
You tilt your head to look at him, “Because, it’s my birthday.” Your eyes drop down to his lips as you unconsciously lick your own, “Aren’t you gonna wish me happy birthday?” You whisper.
“Oh yeah?” Jungkook looks up at you in amusement as he leans closer, “Happy birthday sweetheart.”
Jungkook gently slips his lips against yours, barely moving as he inched his hand upward between your thighs. You’re so lost in the taste of him as you let your thighs fall open invitingly, and your hands came up to rest over his shoulders. Jungkook grunts under his breath, he moves his lips sensually over yours causing wet smacking noises to fill the space between you two. You softly whine as your lips become glossy and kissed raw from Jungkook’s little bites and harsh kisses.
“Why don’t you lay back, hm? Gonna show you what birthday girls get from me,” he presses a chaste kiss to your neck as he slowly guides you on your back, “there you go, just like that baby—yea..spread ‘em for me.” He watches you in pure delight over how well you’re following his instructions.
You stare up at him with a dazed look, “Do you give every birthday girl this?” You purse your lips in annoyance just thinking about all the other girls who have probably been under him like this.
Jungkook toys with the strap of your bra, “No, just ones that like to tease me on stage.” He smirks as he hooks his finger under the middle of the bra, he tugs it downward until both tits spill out from the cups, “Will you look at that..” He murmurs appreciatively when he sees your pretty pebbled nipples, “I wonder if you’re pretty everywhere else too.”
Your lips part to say something but Jungkook leans down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. You sigh quietly and enjoy the feeling of his wet hot tongue circling and licking over your nipple. He moves his other hand to your other tit and gently wraps his hand around the doughy flesh. Jungkook pulls away and leaves a small trail of spit over your hard nub, as he rolls and kneads your tit in his other hand.
A surprised little “oh!” escapes your lips when he dives down to suck on the other nipple. “Mm–wait,” you throw your head back when his other hand dips low between your thighs, pressing two fingers over your drenched pussy. He teases your clit through your panties as he presses the soaked material against your slicked up cunt.
He hums to himself and pulls away to trail kisses down the middle of your body. His other hand slides down your side until he’s resting it against your hip where the waistband of your panties sits. “Been dreaming bout this day n night sweetheart, you don’t even know how fuckin’ crazy you drive me.” He hooks two fingers under the waistband, “You make it so hard for a man sometimes, you got me fiending like a dog for you.” He growls.
You look down at him and slip your hands over his, “Then make me yours,” you breathily whisper, “ ‘s all yours,” you dreamily smile while hooking your thighs over his shoulders.
Jungkook all but tears your panties off with a loud riiip. He leaves open mouthed kisses trailing down until his mouth’s hovering over your pussy, he wastes no time in letting his tongue dip between your folds. He laps at your messy folds and lays his tongue flat against your clit as he flicks it back and forth teasingly. You quickly become a whimpering mess under him.
He uses his grip to bring your cunt closer to his face, his hands slip under your ass cheeks and he grips both cheeks in his palms. Your eyes flutter shut as you slip your hands into his hair, you wonder if anyone was watching right now. The balcony itself had a thick siding but the thought of them watching Jungkook and you sent delicious little tremors down your spine. “Mm–like that,” you whisper softly while lifting your hips more for him.
It feels like he’s making out with your pussy with the way he’s licking and sucking at your chubby folds, taking a lip into his mouth as he sucks on it teasingly before dipping back in to tease your clit. A choked up moan escapes when his tongue slips lower and pokes at your winking hole, “Please, please,” you tearfully whine, “want more.”
Jungkook leaves a gentle little smooch on your pussy before he goes back to business. His hot tongue slips right into you pushing past your tight rim. Your lips fall open in a small ‘o’ as you shudder, he’s flicking his tongue upwards against your g-spot repeatedly. You scramble to get a hold of him with your fingers tightening in his hair.
“Mmm,” you push his head against you and sigh when his nose accidentally bumps into your clit, “...daddy—” You cry out when the pleasure gets too much and you curl into yourself from the sensitivity.
Jungkook freezes under you, he pulls away and climbs over you with your legs falling from his shoulders. “What did you say?” His eyes narrow, they’re dark with hunger and lust. You look up at him through bleary eyes and giggle instead of answering. Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, relishing in the moan that bubbles out of your throat, “Oh you like that don’t you baby?” He chuckles breathily, “Go on then, tell me what you just said now.” He squeezes gently and runs his thumb over your lips, it’s nothing too drastic but it serves as a reminder.
Your tongue darts out to run over your upper lip seductively, “Would you rather I called you sir? Or Mr Jeon?” You breathily giggle, “Does it turn you on laying me out here in the open for everyone to see?” You whisper as your lips wrap around his thumb, you suck with a low lewd moan.
Jungkook cusses under his breath, “Fuckin’ hell.. Nothing but a straight demon, look at you, jesus.” He bites his lip and pops his wet thumb out of your mouth, “They can look all they want but this pussy’s mine,” he cups your cunt with his free hand, “daddy’s gonna have you all dolled up with a little collar so people know who you belong to.” He smirks.
You mewl at the thought of him putting you in a collar as you eagerly paw at his slacks, “Please daddy,” you slur out, “ ‘m so wet for you. Aren’t you gonna be nice and give me what I want? Or do I have to find someone to do the job for you?” You grin deviously.
Jungkook’s cock is out within seconds after hearing that, he slaps the wet tip over your clit in soft taps. He listens to the wet squelching your cunt makes, it’s like music to his ears hearing how soaked you are. You let your legs slip open wider as he crowds you while slipping his cock between your folds. The tip catches on to your hole and prods at you, “Please,” you whine softly, “wan’ it in,” you buck your hips so more of his cock pops into you.
“Shit, relax for me baby.” He sighs as he slips his cock inch for inch slowly. His cock fits snug in your tight little cunt, you struggle a bit to house the rest of his cock inside of you but eventually he bottoms out with a small smack. “There you go,” he moans in bliss, “doin’ so good for me.”
You shudder at the praise and stare up at him with puppy eyes, “Don’t want it soft and nice daddy—want it fast n hard.” You hook your arms around his shoulders and bring him down for a sweet gentle peck, “You’ll give me what I want, right daddy?” You bat your lashes at him.
Jungkook groans shakily, “Fuck yes—I’ll give you everything you want baby.” He pumps his cock in and out of you, “Gonna have you dripping in diamonds.” He gasps as his hips roll forward with each time being a little more rougher than the last.
His movements cause you to lightly bounce in place under him, you can only moan and whimper as he drives his cock in and out of you. Your pussy hugs his cock tight when backstrokes making it a bit hard to fuck into you. He shoves his hand between the two of you and presses down on your clit with his thumb causing a loud cry to escape your lips.
“Harder..!” You rasp out and throw your head back. Jungkook wastes no time in diving in to bury his face between your shoulder and neck, leaving a mess of hickeys and love bites in his wake.
“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he gasps, “ ‘s like this slutty little pussy was made for me.” He fucks into your rougher and makes sure to press in deep each time he bottoms out.
Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, you dig your nails into his shoulder and curl your legs around his waist tightly. “S-So good,” you gasp. His fat cock fills you up just nicely and rubs up against every sensitive spot inside your cunt. You can feel every throb and vein on his cock as he fucks away mindlessly.
Jungkook tilts his face to messily slot his lips against your own, he slams his hips upwards rather harshly. Each punishing thrust leaves you shaking and mewling for more, you weakly hold on to him for dear life and try not loosen your grip on him. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites teasingly as a low whine escapes your lips.
“Fuck, you like that don’t you baby? Got myself a little painslut don’t I?” He purrs low while circling his hips and letting you feel every inch of his cock.
You hiss softly and hide your face in the soft cushioning of the couch, you’ve long blocked out the music in favor of focusing on two things: Jungkook and the wet noises your cunt made. You could feel dollops of slick run down your taint and between your ass cheeks. His cock was drenched in your wetness, everytime he pushed back in a loud squelch was followed shortly after.
“You gonna be a good girl and cum on this cock baby? Gonna make it nice n messy for me?” He huskily whispers, “C’mon baby, answer me.” He lightly slaps your cheek forcing you to look at him.
“Y-Yes,” you softly gasp, back arching when he strikes your g-spot repeatedly.
“Yes what?” He licks his lips.
“Yes daddy.” You whimper out. Jungkook captures your lips in a heated kiss and then proceeds to slam his cock in and out of your battered pussy.
You hug him tightly while messily kissing back as his cock slips in and out of your gaping cunt. He pulls out to the very tip before slamming back in and repeating the process over and over. Loud wet smacks are heard but you’re too cock drunk to see (or care) if anyone is looking. Before you even realize it, your cunt squeezes tightly around him and you cum with a loud cry. Your pussy absolutely gushes around him.
Jungkook groans low in his throat, he comes to a halt and simply grinds his cock into you. He feels more slick coat his cock until he’s covered in slick. He throbs at the sight of your trembling thighs and presses his cock in, letting his creamy cum fill your pussy up. You both slump into each other, he pants heavily and just lays there with his body covering your own.
“Got all night baby,” he murmurs in your ear while kissing the side of your head, “why don’t we get a little more comfortable in my bed, yeah?” He whispers.
You turn to press your lips to his, “Mmhm,” you pull away as a string of spit follows, “gonna give you a REAL show daddy.” You softly say.
Jungkook chuckles quietly, “I’m sure you are.”
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TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore
2K notes · View notes
fairysluna · 6 months
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SINNERS — Chapter 4
After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed with her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.
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MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST
PAIRING – Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!OC.
SUMMARY – A year has passed, Maegor's lies are exposed as Aenelys overheard a conversation and they both found themselves in a discussion that was interrupted by an unexpected visit and terrible news..
TW/TAGS – targcest (uncle/niece), age gap, angst, smut (humping, praising), cursing, maegor being his own warning, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, manipulation. if something is missing let me know!!
NOTE – finally i managed to sit and write for this, I'm sorry if it's not perfect, but I'm still struggling with my writer's block.😫 hopefully you'll like this!! pls enjoy🤍✨
WORD COUNT – 5.0k
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.
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Maegor was unable to take his eyes out of her. His hand found its way to her back, caressing the soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. His little princess was exhausted after last night, which finished with her limbs shaking and her beautiful doe eyes covered by tears. 
Aenelys had been behaving these past year, and Maegor was pleased with it. As long as he made her believe he was hers, nothing could go wrong. He was smarter this time; hiding his mistresses in brothels while her princess remained oblivious of his acts, waiting for his return and opening her soft legs to him because she was getting obsessed with the pleasure he could provide to her.
He was no fool, not at all. He knew there was no way he could be inside her without getting her with child, and that was no good for his plans… he needed her a maiden, he could not allow her to breed a bastard, not when her title and prestige were at risk. Those were two things he needed from her, her title and her legitimate child, but for that he must be patient, wait for the right moment. 
But that does not mean he could not have fun with her in the meantime.
Maegor found himself searching for new methods of pleasure that would work for both, one of his favorites will forever be having her plump lips around him. The first time she learned how to please him with her mouth, she was acting shy and flustered, nervously touching him until he decided to control her movements. Aenelys turned out to be strangely good at this, pleasing him like no other.
"Not even the most expensive whore can suck my cock like you do, my sweet dove," he had told her as he wiped the tears off her flushed face. Aenelys smiled widely, feeling proud after realizing that she was better than anyone. She thought that he would only seek release in her after that… but how wrong she was.
There is no secret that Maegor had some carnal need that needed to be fulfilled, and his wish to be inside some tight, wet walls were too overwhelming to be ignored. This is why, after those times where he could not get satisfied by her touch, he would leave once he made sure she was sleeping, and seek that much needed release with someone else; his dear friend and favorite mistress, Tyanna. 
Ser Draqos knew about his dirty little secret, for he would guard the princess door each night, seeing how her beloved uncle and lover would leave her alone for some common whore. It was hard for him to understand how Maegor, a man who had in his power a woman as sweet and beautiful as the princess, decided to sneak out like a rat in the middle of the night and lock himself in brothels with other women. It was nonsense that only a fool could understand. 
But now Maegor was laying beside her, his big hand on her back as she started to move, her eyes slowly opening as she turned around with a small, sleepy smile. Maegor put his hand around her neck, not squeezing it but leaving it there as a sign of some kind of dominance over her, something that the princess loved to feel. 
"How beautiful you look in the mornings," he whispered, brushing his nose against hers in a strangely soft touch. "Did you sleep well?" 
"I always sleep well with you by my side," she murmurs in response. Maegor smirked, almost hearing the devotion in her voice.
Without saying a word, he pressed his lips against hers in a hungry kiss. Aenelys moaned; the sudden act made her heart flutter, still not getting used to these heated touches that made her limbs go numb. The butterflies on her belly blurred her thoughts as he possesively devoured her lips with a fervor that left her breathless. She squirmed beneath him, so easy to arouse. Maegor knew exactly the effect he had on her, and he knew that if he dared to touch between her legs he would find nothing but her sweet slick running down her thighs. Her flesh begging to be touched.
She sighed as he leaned back, a small string of saliva joining their swollen lips as Maegor's darkened eyes stared at hers with a hunger that made her legs shake. He had woken up with the intention of devouring her in every way, not satisfied with the action that took place the night before. Aenelys felt his hand roaming down her body, a small squeeze on her left breast before he positioned himself between her legs, spreading them open for him to see all of her. 
She blushed, looking at him with those beautiful eyes that screamed innocence - or at least what was left of it. Maegor growled, his fingers involuntarily touching her soaked folds as she mewled beneath him, her hips moving upwards as she searched for more of his touch. 
"Look how wet you are for me, my sweet doe," he mumbled, towering her body as he leaned forward, a shadow casting over her petite frame and hiding her from the sunlight. "And all of this is for me, right?" He asked using that husky tone that sent her into a submissive and pleading state. She nodded as a response muttering a small 'yes' that could be easily mistaken with soft gasps. 
Maegor, discontent with that answer, put his hand back around her neck and squeezed it. Aenelys purred under his touch and a smug grin appeared on her uncle's lips. 
"I made you a question, princess," he murmured as he brushed his nose against her cheek. "Answer me." His low voice caused chills down her spine, making her pearl throb with excitement.
"It's- it's all for you," she replied in a sigh, her voice thin and weak as he pressed himself against her. His length felt the warmth of her folds and a groan left his lips as she moved her hips, starting to hump on him. 
"Good girl…" he sighed.
Maegor then started to move as well, his hips meeting hers in slow but hard movements that made her whine. His hardness rubbing against her swollen bud almost made her eyes roll, her hands holding onto his shoulders at the same time he kissed her. The muffled noises of their passion were echoing in the room. 
"I can't wait to be inside you, my dear," he whispered against her lips, "I bet you would feel so good around my cock, squeezing me with that tight cunny of yours." 
His words did nothing but to increase her arousal, her cheeks turning red as her mind flooded with images of him claiming her as his. Her mouth dropped open with a whine, her clit throbbing as he used his free hand to press himself further into her soaked flesh. Aenelys closed her eyes, her back arching as his grip around her neck tightened even more. 
"Does it feel good, byka mēre?" Little one. That bloody nickname sent waves of heat all over her trembling body as she whimpered a response. "Are you going to cum? I can hear how wet you are, love… So needy for me." 
She felt the knot of her lower belly starting to form, searching for that needed release as his name fell from her lips like a sacred prayer. After he let go of her neck, his lips wrapped around one of her sensitive nipples, licking and sucking the delicate bud as she frowned in pleasure and her whole body shook. The stimulation between her legs, plus his hungry mouth roughly working on her breasts, made her see stars behind her eyelids, her limbs shaking as her cries of pleasure became louder. 
Aenelys fell apart beneath his thick frame, crying his name as she reached her overwhelming climax. Her breathing was fast, ragged. Her eyes closed as he kept moving trying to find his release - which was far to come. 
After a few seconds, Maegor kept going in an useless attempt to feel that knot in his gut. The stimulation was not enough for him, and the frustration was growing inside him, losing his patience. Aenelys started to cry even louder, the overstimulation being too much that it became a bit painful. Maegor groaned.
He let go, trying to use his hand but it was still not enough. Aenelys saw his struggle and she tried to make things better as she noticed how his patience was hanging from a thin thread. 
"I can… I can use my mouth-" 
"Be quiet," he snapped at her as he stood up, lurking for his clothes around her chambers. 
Aenelys covered her nudity with the thin sheets of her bed, staring at Maegor as a tiny feeling of inefficiency filled her chest, almost making her cry. It was not the first time this would happen, and even when she would offer to please him in other ways, he would grab his things and leave her room… just like he did this time. 
The princess felt a slight pain in her heart as she was left alone, trying to convince herself that the next time will be different. Trying to convince herself that he went to the training yard instead of a brothel. 
Though she was not very sure of that. 
A few minutes later passed before one of her loyal maids entered her room, preparing a warm bath for her. Aenelys found herself relaxing in the water while Henela washed her hair. The princess had been unable to focus on anything besides what happened with Maegor, she wondered what she could do to be better for him, to please him and leave him satisfied. 
"Are you still a maiden, Henela?" The princess suddenly asked, the lady almost blushed at the question. 
"Uh… no, princess, I'm not," she hid her nervousness behind an awkward giggle. 
"So you know how to properly please a man, right?" Aenelys asked again without shame. She turned around looking up at the flustered maid, the curiosity shining through her eyes. 
"Well, there's many ways to please a man," Henela explained, going to search for the princess' robe. "You can use your hands, or your mouth-"
"I have done those things-"
"Have you?" She interrupted with surprise. 
"I have," Aenelys nodded, standing from the tub and wrapping the robe around her body. "But it seems as if they are not enough… Is there anything else I could do to please him?"
The shock on Henela's face was undisguisable. 
"I'm not quite sure what else you can do, those things usually work," she murmured, now feeling a bit embarrassed. "Has he ever… been inside you?" 
Aenelys shook her head, "he does not want to," she sadly said. "He says a princess shall always wait for marriage."
"Is he planning to wed you?" Henela curiously asked. 
"Yes," she nodded excitedly, "Though I'm not quite sure when, but I know we will get married someday…" Henela felt a tingle of pity on her chest after seeing her dreamy eyes and knowing the truth about Maegor. "He gave me this necklace when I was sixteen," Aenelys said as she grabbed the pendant hanging around her neck, "I think he gave it to me as a promise…" 
"Pardon me for my intrusion, my princess, but is he not already married?" Henela asked. 
Aenelys smile trembled a little and she shook her head, as if she was trying to downplay the situation she was in. 
"Oh, yes, but here we're free, and we can get married even if he's married in Westeros, can we not?" she shrugged, still with a soft smile on her face that was so hard to watch for her maid. "Besides, Ceryse does not love him, not like I do. He deserves a good wife, someone who can give him what he wants."
"What does he want?" 
"A child!" Aenelys excitedly said. 
"Oh…" she simply said.
"How lovely would it be to be carrying his child," Aenelys murmured, standing in front of the mirror and placing her hand on her belly. "But firstly, I need to know how to properly please him. Is there any advice?"
Henela sighed, "Men usually like it when women take control or seem to be confident in the marital bed," she explained, "for that you need to be on top, riding him."
"Like a horse?" 
Her maid giggled softly, "not quite, but the movements are rather the same. Moving your hips in circles or back and forth, it drives them crazy." 
"Does it?"
Henela nodded.
"Please, also remember that men like to hear your pleasure, so you have to be loud, but try not to be too obvious about it or they will know you are lying." 
"That is a bit confusing," Aenelys giggled. Henela laughed too.
"Men are complicated, my princess, but if there is something that can keep them interested is a good sexual companion… I'm sure Prince Maegor would be rather infatuated once he gets to bed you." 
"You think?" Aenelys blushed. 
"Definitely, my princess," she nodded. "Sometimes we can get them to do as we please by just opening our legs, they always think with their cocks."
"Henela!" She gasped, laughing at the word she used and slightly blushing. It was not very common for her to hear a lady using that term.
"It is the truth!" Henela giggled, making her sit in a chair in order to brush her hair. 
"I think the fact he's waiting for me is the purest act of love," Aenelys murmured, her silly smile and dreamy eyes coming back to enlighten her face. "The fact that he stopped seeing his whores is proof that he actually loves me, right?"
The way the princess smiled made her feel pity again; she could only ask for the truth to be out. She simply nodded, hiding the guilt behind a soft look in her eyes. Henela had a special spot for the princess, and she was not going to be the one telling Maegor's little secret and eventually breaking her heart. 
A few hours later she was walking towards the dining room to break her fast. A freshened look on her face as she had taken a hot bath and had her braids done by Henela, leaving any trace of sadness behind after what had happened inside her room. She kindly smiled at everyone who crossed her path; the princess had known how to win every servant's heart, which is why they would always give her pity glances as she walked - they knew what her beloved uncle did behind her back. No one dared to say a word, everyone was too afraid of the Prince to even think about confessing his lie. 
Everyone but Draqos, who was standing in the hall being threatened by a very angry Maegor. Aenelys found them, slowing her pace and quietly approaching the corner to spy. She was able to see her uncle's back and Draqos' face under the sunlight. She frowned, noticing how her loyal guard was visibly mad, his eyes throwing daggers at the man in front of him as they seemed to have a not so friendly conversation. 
She was not able to hear clearly, but her heart ached when she heard his last words before he left: "Consider yourself dead if you dare to tell her about this."
Aenelys frowned, her confused expression being plastered in her face as she leaned back in the wall trying to make sense of what Maegor had just said. That is when a hand was pressed on her shoulder, a touch so gently and caring. Draqos looked down at her lilac eyes, and with a single glance he knew that he had heard part of the conversation.
"What did he mean?" she asked softly, trying not to jump into conclusions. 
"Princess, you shouldn't have heard that," Draqos sighed, almost looking ashamed.
"But I did," she firmly replied, "what did he mean?" she repeated, her eyes never leaving his as she was forcing him to answer her. "I demand you to tell me what is going on."
The inner struggle was obvious in his eyes as he immediately looked away, unable to resist the temptation to tell her the truth if he was staring at her. Aenelys silently pleaded for an answer. 
"He will not hurt you if you decide to speak to me," she told him, softly speaking in an attempt to make him talk. "I will make sure you are safe, I promise."
With that, Draqos was easily convinced. His sweet princess was begging for an answer and he was not going to be the one to deny her of it. He would never deny her anything.
"I'm afraid the prince has been seen occasionally escaping during the nights, and sometimes during the days," he started, his voice somewhat soft as if he was trying to make everything less painful. "He visits the brothels almost every week, seeking companionship in the arms of a courtesan named Tyanna." 
Aenelys pressed her lips into a thin line as she took in the heartbreaking news of the not so unexpected treason. Draqos got a bit worried when he did not see sadness in her eyes; he saw anger. Her soft, doe eyes turned into flames as she imagined that woman touching what belonged to her. 
"How long has this been going on?" she asked. 
Draqos took a deep breath, "it has never stopped, my princess." 
She sighed, a shaky sigh that almost broke his heart. 
"I need you to promise me something, Ser Draqos," Aenelys softly spoke as she took a step closer and looked up at him. Their closeness would not be well seen if someone walked in, but he was not going to be the one to push her away. 
"Anything," he whispered, his deep brown eyes looking at her lilac ones with a devotion she wished to see in Maegor. 
"You are my protector, you sworn yourself to me when we first arrived here," she said as she grabbed his hand. "I do not want just your protection. I want your loyalty and sincerity. Do not lie or hide things from me again." 
"Princess-"
"Promise me," she demanded. 
"I promise you," he answered without missing a beat, not even doubting himself. "My princess, I will always be loyal to you… Until my last breath." 
Aenelys nodded, taking in his words and closing her eyes when he leaned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there longer than they should have; it brought some sense of peace and calmness. The princess muttered a small 'thank you', before she took a step back and looked at the floor, as if she was avoiding his stare. She excused herself before her expression hardened again and she walked away from him.
With a single glance to her determined steps, he knew where she was walking to, so he walked behind her just to make sure she would be safe. 
Aenelys reached for the door and pushed it open, hard enough to disrupt the calm environment that had been established in the dining room. Maegor frowned as he looked at her, the sign of dried tears in her rosy cheeks immediately worked as a warning that something was not right, and the realization hit when Draqos stood behind her.
"Leave," she ordered to all the servants that were staring at her with curious eyes. Everyone left, except for Draqos. "You too," she told him.
"Princess-"
"Go," she interrupted him. Draqos doubted for a second, staying still while giving quick glances to Maegor; he did not trust him. However, he eventually turned around, reluctantly leaving the room.
Aenelys saw Maegor leaning back in the chair; his legs spreaded, his jaw moving as he was eating while a small grin appeared on his face. She knew he was going to tease her, a daring provocation in order to make her explode; she tried not to get caught up in that, but her feelings were all over the place, her heart was beating too fast and the ache in her chest did not seem to cease. 
"You lied to me," she murmured, trying to make her voice not break. 
"Did I?" 
"You did!"
"Ah…" he scoffed, drinking from his tea as if she was not falling apart in front of him. "When did I lie to you, darling?" 
"You are fucking a whore, Maegor," she mumbled, wiping a rebel tear as she looked to the floor. A small tsk was heard from his side.
"Well, that's the thing, little one." He stood up, and he slowly started to approach her. "I do not remember telling you I'd stopped fucking whores. It is not a lie if I never said it, is it? You just assumed it." 
There was a silence where Maegor reached for her face, cupping her cheek with his hand as his thumb wiped the tears away. It was a gesture so delicate and soft that it almost made her sigh; her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. It brought some calmness to the turmoil of feelings inside her chest. His softness, that was hardly ever shown, made her almost melt into his touch once again, but then his own voice made her wake up from the trance he had put her in.
"Who told you?" 
That mere question brought her back to reality. She thought about how many people knew about it for him to ask such thing. She thought about how ridiculous she must have been seen by the servants that already knew about it, for she would never hide her undying loyalty and devotion to him. 
She pushed his hand away from her, taking a step back as the anger consumed her once again.
"No one did!" she replied, raising her voice. "You really think I was never going to find out about this?" 
"My sweet doe," he softly spoke, trying to calm her down. "You need to understand that a man has needs-"
"I'm the one who should be satisfying your needs!" She yelled. "I'll be your wife, I will marry you, not her!" She spat the last words with utter disgust.
He took a deep breath, slowly starting to lose his patience. 
"I know that very well," he whispered, taking a step closer. "But there are different kinds of pleasure that you cannot provide me with. You know that." 
"I do not care!" She yelled again, this time pushing him away. Maegor was taken by surprise, and he almost lost his balance. Pure shock on his eyes as he saw her unexpected outburst. "I can be all that for you if you only give me the chance!" She whined. "I'm right here, uncle! I'm yours, and I will always be yours. Why can you not understand?!"
His anger was immediately shown as he unexpectedly wrapped his hand around her jaw, digging his fingers into her flesh - strong enough to make her stay still. Her eyes widened in surprise, a slight panic running through her eyes as she saw the rage written all over his face. She whined, now out of pain. 
"You cannot understand simple things, can you?" He muttered so close to her face that she was able to feel his hot breath against her lips. "Is your brain so small that it cannot comprehend anything? You think I haven't fucked you because I do not wish for it?" He scoffed. "Oh, you silly little thing. I could spread your legs and bury my cock on that needy cunt of yours right here if that is what I want, but I won't; because I'm smart, and I'm patient, you know why? Because I could easily fuck a bastard into you." Those last words were spat with rage, the kind of feeling he had never felt with her up to this point.
He was wondering how she could not understand what he had been explaining to her for months. Her obliviousness to certain things made him furious.
"Is that what you want?" He continued, tightening his grip. "A bastard is a weapon against maidens as you, something they can use to steal your rightful position in the throne, is that what you want? People calling you the whore princess because you opened your legs to someone who's not your husband? Don't act stupid, I know you are more clever than that."
He let her go, and she stumbled backwards as she touched her jaw trying to soothe the tingling pain that was left there. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he stared at her teary eyes. Maegor then approached her again, two of his fingers lifting her chin forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Listen to me, my love," his tone changed, returning to be the soft and gentle one he would always use with her. "You want to feel me inside that tight cunny of yours? You want me to breed you until your womb is filled with my seed? That is fine, and you'll have all of that…" he made a pause, appreciating the red on her cheeks produced by his words. "But for that you'll have to wait until we marry. Is that clear for you?"
She nodded, reluctantly.
"Answer me," he demanded. 
"Yes…" she replied in a thin voice, and he smiled pleasantly.
"That's a good girl," he muttered before he leaned and left a soft kiss on her forehead. A chill ran down her back, a sense of uneasiness settled in her chest. She remembered Draqos giving her the same gesture, and causing the complete opposite emotion. "Now… this is the last time I will bear one of these tantrums, do you hear me? I will not forgive you again."
She was about to answer, but the door was suddenly open and Draqos walked in. He noticed the marks on her jawline, he saw the tears in her eyes and the way she looked away from him, avoiding any eye contact. He clenched his jaw as he bowed in front of them, wanting nothing to scream at Maegor for hurting such a delicate maiden like her.
He hid his rage towards the prince as a serious semblance was drawn in his face, clearing his throat before he made his announcement.
"Prince, Princess… The Dowager Queen is here," he informed. 
Aenelys looked up at Maegor, trying to find the same surprise on his face, but he remained nonchalant to the words of the knight, almost as if he was expecting his mother to arrive. 
Before Aenelys could express her confusion, Visenya entered the dining room, dressed with her riding attire and wearing an unreadable expression on her stern visage. The princess noticed how her eyes scanned her body, her expression slightly changing when she noticed the marks on her neck, but returning to be a hard look when she paid further attention to the marks that were left by her son's tight grip.
"Mother," Maegor greeted her, bowing before her and grabbing her hand to kiss the back of it. "What brings you here?"
"I'm afraid I've come all this way to inform you both of something not very pleasant," she started, her voice low and almost lacking any emotion. Visenya turned to look at Aenelys and she sighed as she grabbed her hands; it was at that moment that the princess felt her heart skip a beat. "Is your father, princess," Visenya sighed.
"My father?" She asked with slight confusion. 
Visenya looked at her son before looking back at the girl in front of her.
 "The King unexpectedly died last night in Dragonstone."
She felt the tears clouding her eyes, her nose itching and that agonizing feeling on her chest. She covered her lips with her hand as a sign of shock and disbelief, feeling as if the world had fallen on her shoulders and the weight of guilt was pressing against her chest, causing her to breathe rapidly and unevenly. Aenelys looked at Maegor, whose face was lacking any surprise - she was too shocked to recognize the mischievous glint on his devilish eyes. 
"How… How did it happen?" she managed to speak between deep breaths and sobs. 
"The war weakened him," she explained. Aenelys was taken aback by this new information. 
Information that Maegor already knew and decided to hide from her.
"What war?" Aenelys asked again.
"The war with the Faith Militant," she explained, "The High Septon took your disappearance as an offense, for his niece is Maegor's legitimate wife. People in King's Landing are accusing your father of promoting this relationship between you both, and they raised against his reign." 
Her dress suddenly felt tighter, the difficulty to breath making her gasp as the tears fell down her cheeks. Her eyes looked at Draqos, the despair and desperation was clearly visible in her face. He took a step forward, but Maegor grabbed her first. The princess buried her face on his chest while his hand went to her hair, cooing against her ear while she uncontrollably sobbed, soaking his shirt with her tears. 
Suddenly, the entire discussion with Maegor was easily forgotten, for the pain in her heart was bigger and almost unbearable. The guilt making it impossible for her to calm down.
"Your mother and siblings are waiting for you in Dragonstone for the funeral," Visenya informed her, "King's Landing and the Iron Throne are now empty…" 
Aenelys thought it was quite odd the way she pronounced those kasts words, but her mind was too blurry to even try to process them. Maegor, however, found himself understanding the message between the lines, and he held her close to his chest and gave a soft nod to his mother. Things had never been clearer.
It was time for him to take what was rightfully his, claim his position as King of the Seven Kingdoms, and make Aenelys his queen.
Everything went exactly how he wanted.
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