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invisiblestringmm · 2 hours

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chapter six

and if you ask me to, daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, i’ma give you the world

author: writing this had me sobbing a few times and i truly hope you'll love it as much as i do. let's keep in mind that this is a work of fiction, and that i do not know nor am associated (unfortunately) to any of the real people mentioned here. tw: massive fluff, description of anxiety, angst

word count: 7.758k words

It wasn’t a long drive to the estate, but the portion of time you spent in your car parked out front was longer than what you had planned - lost in your thoughts, you made an effort to gather a bit more of the courage you knew you still had in your core to now face the most significant person in this whole chaos: your daughter, the love of your life. You knew Lily would eventually bring up so many questions that your only hope was that she’d wait for Mason to be around, but knowing her all too well, her focus would be entirely on meeting her dad; you could already see the twinkle in her eyes, the impatience hovering over her making that little human pace relentlessly whenever she had to wait for things to happen when they should and not on her time - which was nothing like you, because you considered yourself fairly patient. So that was another thing she probably got from Mason.

With another sigh parting your lips, you eventually made your way to the big house - only to be welcomed by your mum’s frantic screams that Christmas was ruined, by your dad’s hopeless and anguished glance, and a pair of tiny arms that made your entire world stop because nothing else mattered. Lily held you tight like you’d been away for years and not for just a few hours. “I missed you, mummy. Abuelita is angry,” she pouted, her big hazel eyes gleaming with tears she seemed to be containing for a while now.

“Oh baby,” you cooed. “What happened?”

Lily carefully explained the same way she heard: there was a big snowstorm and pretty much every family member that was expected to join them for Christmas wouldn’t be able to make it. So far, it was just the four of you, Emma (your cousin, daughter of your father’s brother), and her two children, Louis and Oscar, the 8-year-old twins. Inevitably, your thoughts went straight to Mason and how having him there would be perfect. Not the way your mum truly wanted, but it’d make Lily happy and whatever made your daughter happy, also made your parents happy.

Back in Surrey, Mason quickly typed you a message after declining two of your calls.

Watching half of his family still in shock with the news he just dropped could be amusing if it wasn’t something so serious - although Mason was sure that, at some point in life, they’d all have a good laugh about it. His sister’s soft hand squeezing his shoulder felt reassuring, but Mason could still feel his heart pounding against his chest and the silence filling his large living room was the scariest sound he had ever heard. Lewis was the first one to break it with a sigh, and Mason could only hope he’d say something funny to break the tension, but it didn’t happen - at least not yet.

“Are you sure she’s yours?” Lewis questioned and Mason scanned his dad’s face starting to turn red, the veins in his forehead throbbing under Lew’s question.

Before Mason could answer, Jaz took a step forward and went big sister mode just like he expected she would. “Let’s not rule out a DNA test, but you’ve all met this little girl before.” The confused look on their faces swapped back to shock once Jasmine showed them Lily’s picture - Debbie had tears in her eyes and glanced at Mason, desperately waiting for him to say something, but the truth was he was never the one to hide this from them.

“I know it’s a shock to all of you, as it is for me too,” Mason began, swallowing a sob before he could start weeping the way he did this morning. “But I need you all with me in this because everything I’ll do from now on is for her, it’s not about me. I need you all to make this about her as well.” It seemed like those words were all his mum needed to ultimately allow those insisting tears to roll down her cheeks and search for her husband’s hand, who softly squeezed it, giving her the comfort she needed that everything would be just fine in the end. “This is far from how I expected it’d be,” Mason added. “But I can’t say that I’m not happy. I truly can’t wait to be with her and be the father she deserves.”

As Mason nervously rubbed his hands on his jeans, trying to control how sweaty and shaky they were, he observed his dad end the short distance between them and pull him into a hug. He didn’t need words from Tony to know his dad was proud of how he was handling the situation, and whatever damage control they’d eventually have to do would be properly taken care of. But, at this moment, it was all about her. It was about making sure that Lily would have everything she always wished for, and deserved.

Mason knew it would be the biggest challenge of his life, he didn’t have 9 months to prepare himself nor to understand how it was to be a father. What if he wasn’t able to love her unconditionally, or to be everything she expected he’d be? What if he ended up being the worst dad he could possibly be? His only hope was in what his father himself represented - Tony taught him to be a good man, to fight for his family, and to be honest and decent.

Mason’s life wasn’t his own anymore, and that frightened him to the core, but he also felt prepared to fully embrace all the changes that’d come with it because deep down, he knew it’d be worth it.

While Jasmine distracted his parents and brother with pictures and the few stories and details she knew about, Mason hurried to call you back. While he waited for you to pick up, he thought how odd something so simple also felt so intimate - calling you, someone he thought about from time to time, to talk about the life you two shared. A beautiful little girl, whom he couldn’t wait to meet.

“Hello?” you breathed on the other side of the phone, trying to concentrate on the call and on Lily jumping on your bed after having a large cup of cocoa with marshmallows. “Lilian Maisie, I swear to God that if you vomit on this bed…”

Mason couldn’t hold back a laugh, but he also felt his chest clenching a bit with the sudden urge to be there. “Hi, it’s me. Mason.”

“Mase, hi!” he grinned at the nickname, loving how it sounded coming from you. “I tried to call you before.”

“I know, I was with my family. I told them about Lily.”

“Oh? How did it go?”

During most of the talk, you felt yourself going a bit dizzy from holding your breath. It was almost like you were waiting for something bad to happen like you were ready to protect your daughter from everything and everyone, but his family’s reaction was expected and you couldn’t really imagine what they were going through, but you felt deeply sorry and embarrassed to be the one causing it - muttering “I’m so sorry, Mason” during the phone call was the least you could do, and although it was sweet of him, the fact that Mason kept telling you to stop apologising didn’t make things easier. You knew you’d have to work hard to fix things, and that as long as it wouldn’t affect her routine, it was their right to have a free pass to your daughter’s life whenever they wanted.

“Did you tell her?” Mason asked, chewing the inside of his cheeks as he anxiously waited for an answer.

“No,” you heard him sigh. “But only because I wanted to ask you something first.” Mason softly hummed, waiting for you to continue. “Would you like to spend Christmas with your daughter, Mase? Bring your family too, or don’t, I dunno. But they’re all more than welco-”

“Yes, I’d very much like to spend Christmas with her,” Mason interrupted. “With you two.”

Insane was the only word you and Mason could find to address this entire situation, it was all happening so fast that you two shared something in common: fear. Of not giving everyone time to process the news, of dropping this on Lily’s shoulders, and, somehow, causing more damage than good. For Lily, it wouldn’t be just meeting her dad, as he was also her best friend’s uncle - no matter how mature she seemed to be, Lily was still just a child and you and Mason feared her reaction. He was particularly terrified of not being good enough, that she’d be disappointed when she found out he’s her dad but you repeatedly told him that Lily loved him unconditionally.

He couldn’t deny that he was a bit disappointed to be going alone, but it made sense that his family decided to stay behind, saying that this moment was private. In a quick phone call with Jaz, she promised they were considering joining your family for Boxing Day and that they all appreciated the invitation - Jaz mentioned how her mum’s emotions were everywhere, wanting to know everything she possibly could about her granddaughter, so you kindly sent a few pictures and videos of Lily growing up.

While the kids were playing, you took the opportunity to let your parents know about your decision to invite Mason, which seemed to make your mum quite happy. You also had to update Emma, who had always been one of the most discreet and private members of the family; she pulled you into a hug and said you could count on her for anything and, between giggles, that she’d do her best to control her twins who were obsessed about football just like any other boys their age. Although overwhelming, it also felt like a relief to be able to finally tell people about Lily’s dad.

You were finally alone with Lily in her room, braiding her hair the way she liked, as she moved unquietly on the chair placed in front of the mirror. “Peanut, sit still please,” you hummed, a frustrated moan parting your lips seeing your request was pointless.

“But I want to know what the surprise is!” Lily pouted, little arms crossed against her chest.

“It won’t be a surprise anymore if I tell you,” you winked, not letting her see how amused you were when she huffed and finally sat still.

Always independent and self-sufficient, Lily politely dismissed your help when she went to pick an outfit. You instructed her to go for something warm, and even if she seemed a bit confused with the tights, she managed to do it all on her own, which brought you both comfort and nostalgia to see her growing up so fast. Until weeks ago, when Jasmine walked into your lives, it was just the two of you against the world and although you believed it to be enough, of course, there was always something missing and not just for her - you missed it too, having someone to share the wonders of the things she did that were so little to some, but so meaningful to you; and you knew that no one could fill that gap better than Lily’s father.

As he drove to your place, Mason pictured all different scenarios of him meeting Lily. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the mixture of excitement and fear that coursed through him - Mason rehearsed the moment countless times in his mind since he found himself alone, yet he also knew that nothing could truly prepare him for it. As the GPS showed he was getting closer and closer to the estate, a whirlwind of emotions overwhelmed him.

His mind raced with questions. Would she really like him, like you said? Would she be scared? Could he truly be the father she deserved? Mason felt his chest filling with both hope and dread. The weight of all those years, unaware there was a little yet huge piece of him out in the world, pressed down on him - the years he had missed, the milestones he hadn’t been there for. Mason couldn’t let a grudge take over him, there was no point now.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves once he spotted the large gate in front of him. Definitely, no one could ever say it was for the money, he thought, eyes curiously scanning the manor behind the gates - Mason didn’t have to announce his arrival, as he watched it slowly open for him. Not far away, he could spot your figure, standing outside the white door. You seemed as nervous as he was.

As Mason parked his car between a brand new black Range Rover and a racing green Aston Martin Valour he recognised as being limited edition, Mason felt the palms of his hands sweat even more. This wasn’t his usual habitat, none of his friends nor acquaintances were this wealthy. Part of him felt uncomfortable, but the other was relieved to know you were the opposite he’d expect someone this wealthy to be - he instantly assumed your family was as lovely as you.

When your eyes finally met his, you caught him wiping his hands on his jeans. You two could hear the loud waves of laughter of children coming from inside the house, filling the silence between you but Mason felt disconnected, focused solely on meeting his daughter. He finally stood tall in front of you, cheeks pink from the cold but he looked as gorgeous as ever - Mason seemed to relax a bit under your touch when you squeezed his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Mason,” you said softly. “We’ll do it together and it’s going to be okay, she’s the sweetest girl.”

Mason let out a heavy breath, the smell of mint and the warmth coming from him made you feel slightly dizzy, but you quickly put yourself together. “I just don’t want to scare her,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. You felt sorry for him. “I want this to be perfect.”

You smile warmly. “Just be yourself. She’s naturally a curious little girl and knows I’ve planned a surprise for her, but you’re her biggest dream and everything she always wanted,” you said. “Besides a dog. She desperately wants a dog.”

The way the corners of his eyes wrinkled when he laughed was adorable and you could swear your heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, Y/n. For everything so far. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

“It’s been a journey,” you acknowledged, a soft smile curling the sides of your lips as you felt your cheeks flush pink by the sudden touch of his skin on yours - Mason held your pinky with his, his eyes never leaving yours. “But Lily deserves to know her father, and you deserve to know your daughter. This is the right thing.” Mason nodded, and your eyes fell to your pinkies intertwined. “Shall we?”

Mason’s breath caught in his throat as you guided him inside the manor, and he loved that despite all the wealth, it felt like home - the warmth, the laughs, and the smell of freshly baked biscuits soothed his nerves. He carefully scanned every little detail as you guided him upstairs, then down a hallway adorned with family photos and children’s artwork. You stopped in front of a door decorated with colourful stickers spelling out ‘Lilian’.

“Can you wait inside as I go get her?” Mason nodded and walked into the bedroom after you opened the door for him. “I’ll be back with her in a minute.”

When you left, Mason found himself not knowing what to do, again. His eyes quickly scanned his daughter’s bedroom - it was smaller than he expected, it had a fantastic garden view, and walls painted in baby yellow and white. There were lots of books, a wall full of artwork, ballet stuff, and, last but not least, a football - which made him smile warmly as his chest filled with pride.

“Am I getting my surprise now, mummy?” He heard his sweet voice and Mason swallowed a sob, trying not to look like a creep standing behind that door.

“Mhmm, you can say so. I truly believe you’ll love it, angel.” You replied and he smiled at how sweet you sounded talking to her. “I won’t ask you to close your eyes because I know you won’t,” his daughter replied with a giggle, that made him want to burst into tears.

As the door slowly opened, Mason fully embraced the moment when his life wasn’t just his anymore. There she was, his little girl, looking at him with hazel eyes filled with curiosity - Mason felt like he was looking at himself. She had light brown hair that fell in loose curls around her face. The moment Mason saw her, time seemed to stand still. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt a surge of emotions he had never experienced before. There was an intense mixture of love, joy, and an almost unbearable ache. The sight of her, so small and innocent, with features that mirrored his own, hit him with a profound sense of connection and loss for the time they had spent apart. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes welled up with tears.

Mason realised in that instant just how much he had missed, and how much he wanted to be part of her life. The room seemed to blur around him, and all he could focus on was Lily. His daughter. The word felt both foreign and incredibly right. He was overwhelmed by the desire to protect her, to know her, and to make up for lost time.

“Hello Lily,” Mason said softly, crouching down to her level as you guided her to him. “Remember me?”

Lily nodded. “Is Summer my surprise?” She sounded both excited and confused as she studied him with cautious interest, her mind racing as she tried to understand why her best friend’s uncle was there.

He smiled and shook his head, trying to steady his nerves, eyes looking up searching for yours in a silent ask for help.

“No, baby,” you cooed, “Mason is your surprise.”

Lily’s eyes lit up with interest, head tilted to the side. “Why?”

“Because you’re Maisie and Mason,” he watched you crouching down next to her, your hand softly caressing her back as her full attention was still on him. “Remember all those nights you asked the stars to bring your daddy to you?”

Mason swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes burning with tears - he couldn’t cry now, he didn’t want Lily to see him crying, but he felt so overwhelmed by knowing how much she wanted him. The thought of that precious little girl wishing for her dad every night was one of the most painful he ever experienced, and in that moment Mason silently promised he’d never let her go through that again.

When your words finally hit her, Lily’s jaw slightly dropped and her eyes searched for yours, but quickly went back to Mason - he noticed how her little eyes teared up and she pouted, clearly experiencing a mixture of emotions that were a bit too much for her.

“You’re my daddy?” She sniffed, her voice barely above a whisper, still trying to process what was unfolding before her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mason finally allowed tears to stream down his face as he nodded. “Yes, I’m your daddy.”

For a moment that felt like forever, Lily was silent, and Mason couldn’t ignore how you silently reassured her that it was fine to feel everything she was feeling, validating it, by either squeezing her shoulder or running your fingers through her hair. Then, with a sudden burst of emotion, Lily threw her tiny arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Mason felt a surge of warmth and love as he hugged her back, his heart overflowing. “I always wanted a daddy,” she said softly.

You didn’t know how you managed to hold your tears until now, but seeing the wide smile on his face and how Mason sighed in relief, you just couldn’t hold them back any longer. You muffled a sob by covering your mouth with your hand, and the way Mason’s hand searched for yours while not letting Lily go filled your heart with love.

He held her close, his voice choked with emotion. “And I always wanted you, Lily. I’m so happy I found you.”

Mason knew this was just the beginning, but he felt ready to face whatever came next with his daughter, and you, by his side. Lily pulled back slightly, her small hands cupping his face, making Mason giggle. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she curiously scanned his face.

“Summer is my cousin,” she said, a wide smile on her lips when Mason nodded. “Does she know?”

“Not yet,” Mason replied, “But we can tell her together and I’m sure she’ll be really happy.”

As if her thoughts and what was happening were still sinking in, Lily suddenly threw herself back in Mason’s arms, hiding her face in the crook of his neck to muffle her cry - even so, not once did Mason let go of your hand, which was the reassurance you needed to know that things would be alright and that you two would do it together, because you were a family now. You two were everything Lily needed.

“You’re the best Christmas present in the world, Masey,” a slight disappointment coursed down his spine when Lily called him by his nickname, but he’d never rush her to call him ‘dad’. “I-I mean, da-“

“It’s alright, bubba,” Mason interrupted her, softly kissing her forehead when Lily pulled back again. “You can call me whatever makes you feel comfortable, yeah?”

She silently nodded, smiling at him when he wiped her tears. You felt your heart skip a beat at the gesture.

“Do you want to see the drawings I did today?” she asked, small hands reaching his. Lily smiled again when she noticed he was still holding yours.

Mason smiled back, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “I’d love to, sweetheart.”

You gently squeezed his hand, letting it go before Lily led him to her drawing table, where colourful sketches of flowers, animals, and fantastical scenes covered the surface. Lily picked one of her favourites, a vibrant drawing of a butterfly garden, and handed it to him. Mason took the drawing, marvelling at the details and creativity - she really was everything you’d told him, and seeing that by himself filled him with pride. Lily was part of him, she was also his, and he could barely believe that he managed to do that when he often doubted he could do something good, something beyond special.

“This is one of my best,” she said proudly.

“I love the colours you used,” he said, showing interest, which made her eyes sparkle. “You’re the most talented artist.

Lily beamed at the praise, making you chuckle. “Can we draw together sometime, Masey? And play football too?”

“I’d like that very much,” Mason replied, crouching down her level again, holding her hands. “We can do everything you want.”

You watched your daughter narrow his eyes at him as a cheeky smile curled the sides of her lips. “Can we go get a dog now?”

“Lilian Maisie!” you scolded her but couldn’t hold back the happiness that bubbled up inside you and ended up letting a loud laugh part your lips. The way the three of you laughed, filling the room with so much joy and peace made you feel lighter.

Mason leaned forward to gently kiss her forehead again and wrapped his arms around her small figure, lifting her in the air as she squealed between giggles. “Let’s stick to football and drawing, yeah?”

Lily nodded in approval and kissed his cheeks. He was her daddy and he was a lot more than she ever dreamed of; the fact that he was also her best friend’s uncle, which made Summer her cousin, was something Lily still couldn’t believe - she wanted to scream, to see her bestie as soon as possible, hug her and never let her go. There was so much happiness inside her chest that it brought tears back to her eyes, and as she silently watched Mason with what felt like a permanent frown, Lily felt hot tears wet her cheeks again.

“Are you staying forever?” she sniffed, cupping his face with her small hands again.

Mason nodded, wiping her tears with gentle kisses. “Forever, bubba. I’m never leaving you,” he whispered against her skin, and you had to sit on her bed as you felt your legs weaken at how wholesome that moment was.

“Do you promise?” Lily insisted.

“I promise.”

The three of you spent the next hours drawing and chatting, with Lily sharing stories about her favourite things - she proudly told her daddy about being very good at football and was particularly happy when he told her that he was there for the ballet recital. Mason listened intently, soaking in every little detail, every laugh, and every smile. She was indeed the sweetest girl, and as he reached again for your hand - his pinky intertwined with yours - Mason felt a sense of peace and fulfilment that he had never known before.

As the evening drew to a close, and Mason had memorised pretty much every inch of his daughter’s face and how incredible she was, a knock on the door brought the three of you back to Earth. With the kindest smile on her face and pride in her eyes, your mum’s face beamed with happiness as she watched Lily glued to her father.

“Hi,” her voice was soft, and kind, and Mason felt oddly comfortable for a first meeting. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but we’re all starting to get ready for Christmas dinner.”

You noticed Mason was slightly confused since it was still the 24th, but you patiently explained that you always had two celebrations: one on the 24th because it was part of your mum’s culture and your dad didn’t want to change it for her, which Mason thought it was quite romantic of him; and the other on the 25th. He liked how you all seemed to be pretty close and supportive, how your mum was very discreet and talked to him like it wasn’t the first time they were seeing each other - she treated him like family, just like you told him before.

Even so, Mason stood up still holding Lily in his arms, and walked towards your mum. “Hi ma’am, I’m Mason,” he smiled politely and the way your mum sighed in delight made you want to run away and hide. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“He’s my daddy, abuelita,” Lily said proudly, making you all chuckle.

“Is he really, amor?” your mum winked at her. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Mason. We settled the guest room for you.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” your mum nodded at his words with a gentle smile on her lips and, after blowing a kiss to your daughter, left.

The hardest task was convincing Lily to let Mason go but he was so gentle and so patient that she didn’t argue when he offered her choices - he definitely understood how tantrums worked, but also understood how much she wanted to spend every second of every minute with him after years of not having him. Together, the three of you went downstairs so Mason could pick up his small luggage as you waited inside and Lily watched him through the window.

“Are you happy, baby?” you asked, running your fingers down her hair.

Lily nodded. “So much, mummy. This is the best Christmas ever!”

She was naturally a happy little girl, but you couldn’t remember seeing her this happy - you also couldn’t shake the feeling that such happiness could’ve come much earlier if you’d searched for him before. The way Mason smiled at her as he made his way back to the house was the sweetest in the world, and before he could even open the door, Lily stormed out to welcome him back. You guided him to the guest room, which was between yours and Lily’s, and Mason awkwardly kissed your cheek before you separated and it was just you and Lily again.

“What is it?” you asked, watching your daughter grinning at you.

“He kissed you, mummy!” Lily whispered between giggles like she was sharing a silly secret. You felt your cheeks burn under her comment but didn’t reply or she’d turn it into an endless teasing.

“Let’s focus on what you’ll wear, yeah?”

Lily nodded. “Can we match outfits, mummy?”

“I suppose we can, peanut.”

The way Lily was focusing a lot more on what you were wearing rather than focusing on herself wasn’t suspicious considering you knew your daughter all too well, Lily was always up to something when she hyper-focused on one thing and made that thing her little project - still, you wouldn’t ruin this for her and allowed her to do whatever she wanted, so that’s how you two ended wearing matching white knit sweaters, black tights and tweed skirts. It was both adorable and funny, but the cherry on top was Mason wearing pretty much the same colours as you, except his sweater had some pretty details in navy blue - he seemed amused by it as there was a permanent grin on his lips as the three of you went downstairs to meet the rest of your family.

You noticed a slight change in his posture when the sound of your father’s voice reached you, so this time it was your turn to hold his pinky as a gesture that it’d be just fine and he had nothing to worry about. Mason seemed surprised by it but also seemed to relax, offering you a warm smile in return, a smile that made your heart beat slightly faster. Before walking into the living room, you let go of him, which got Mason more upset than he expected but he shook it off.

“There you are!” cheered your father, his arms wide open as he ran past you and went straight to Mason. “I was wondering when I’d see you, lad.”

The older man’s sympathy caught him a bit off guard in the most positive way as two main things could make him dislike Mason: getting his daughter pregnant and being a Chelsea player, but still, there he was treating him as if they were longtime buddies. You let go of the fact that your dad pretty much ignored your presence, knowing that there was a chance that he was slightly starstruck that Mason was in his living room. You grinned when Mason glanced at you - a playful smirk curling his lips - before your dad put his arm over Mason’s shoulder and guided him to his collection of overpriced whisky. They were followed by your cousin’s twins, who couldn’t believe that THE Mason Mount was there.

It was just you, your mum, and Emma now, and noticing how Lily seemed a bit upset that her father was the centre of all the attention, you decided to do a FaceTime call with Willow and Jaz. Lily was the one to tell her auntie Willow that her daddy was there with them, that he was staying forever, and that she’d convince him to get her a dog - something you protested again, but asked yourself for how long you’d be able to avoid another addition to the family and one more responsibility on your hands. You promised Willie to keep her updated and that they could meet for a girls’ night once you were back in London, something she was more than happy about, and promised she’d have a very fun schedule for both of you so you could take a break from all the recent stress that surrounded you.

The next one was Jasmine, who answered faster than you expected, which made you giggle as she seemed overly excited to know everything saying Mason hadn’t told her with all the details she wanted. “We’ll have to meet when I’m back in London so I can give you the detailed version,” you said, watching her roll her eyes at you on the other side of the screen.

“You two are the perfect match, no surprise you have a daughter together,” Jaz teased, making your cheeks blush. “Did he cry?”

“He’d cry even if he was a robot, Jaz. It was a very touching moment,” you admitted and she gave you a warm smile. “I’m happy with how well it went, Lily is having the time of her life although right now she’s a bit upset by my dad monopolising him.”

Jasmine let out a cheerful laugh. “He was so nervous to meet your dad,” she confessed. “I’m so happy it went well, Y/n. It’s so important for Lily that he’s there for her.”

You nodded, chewing your lower lip, trying your best not to cry again. “How did your family react, though?”

“Oh well, they still can’t really believe it. I think my mum is still in shock, she keeps saying that she should’ve known when they met, like some sort of grandmother's sixth sense,” you felt your chest clench a bit, knowing it was you who caused this.

“It’s not her fault,” you mumbled, watching Jaz nod. “Is she there now? Do you guys want to see Lily?”

Jaz opened a wide and sweet smile for you and moved her phone just a bit, Debbie was sitting right next to her, with Summer on her lap. Your cheeks blushed at how emotional she seemed to be and you just wanted to hug her and apologise for all the mess you made and for taking five years of her life with Lily, but you’d do it in person.

“Hi auntie Y/n,” Summer said, waving at you.

“Oh sweetie, hello. Someone here wants to see you,” you walked towards Lily, who was sitting on the floor drawing something. Her face lit up when she saw her best friend’s face on the screen.

“Sumi!” Lily tried to take the phone from your hand but you gently pulled away, afraid she’d let slip something that was meant to be told in person. She pouted a little but seemed to understand the message. “I have so much to tell you!”

Amused by your daughter’s excitement, Summer giggled. “I miss you, Lili,” the little girl said, and you noticed how their interaction made Debbie emotional.

You discreetly pointed at Debbie so your daughter would acknowledge her too but you noticed how her cheeks blushed, and she seemed relieved that Debbie took the first step and asked her if she was having fun. Lily showed the drawing she was finishing shortly before the call.

“This is me in the middle, my mummy and my daddy. Now that I know him I can paint his hair colour,” you melted at how she explained every detail. “This is Mr. Peanut, the dog my daddy will give me when we can convince mummy.”

You narrowed at her but she just giggled, followed by Mason right behind you - the way he just stood there watching Lily was the sweetest, a warm smile on his lips. ‘It’s your mum’ you mumbled to him, and you noticed how happy that information made him feel because his smile doubled the size. Right behind him, your dad smiled proudly at you and blew you a kiss. Lily said goodbye to her and ran straight to Mason, while you talked to Jaz for a few more minutes while he and your dad entertained the little one. Shortly after you said goodbye to her and Debbie, you heard Lily slightly upset about her interaction with the latter.

“Do you think she’s upset I didn’t call her grandma?”

Mason shook his head and leaned a bit to kiss the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “Never,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about that bubba. Take your time, yeah? There’s no need to rush.”

Noticing this was a father and daughter moment, your dad walked away and linked his arm to yours, guiding you to where your mum and cousin were while Mason walked with Lily in his arms to see the Christmas lights that decorated the garden, through the window. They were so comfortable with each other that it felt like this wasn’t even their first day together.

Your mum welcomed you with a glass of white wine - she seemed much calmer now even if pretty much the whole family didn’t make it due to the snowstorm.

“Family is family, there’s lots of them missing but what we have tonight is perfect,” she pointed at Lily and Mason. “I’ve never said this to you, but that’s what I’ve been longing to see. My granddaughter with her father.”

“I think he’ll be a great one,” your father added, sipping his whisky. “You can see that he’s trying, the least we can do is to make him feel comfortable.”

Their support, from the very beginning, was one of the things that made you stronger whenever you had to face the challenges of motherhood - your parents were never there to spoil you nor treat you like some sort of victim but rather made you see all the options you had and each of the consequences that followed according to whatever choice you decided to make.

Completely taken by your emotions, you threw yourself in your dad’s arms and your mum joined for a family hug. Being an only child had never been a problem when your parents were so present, despite such busy lives they had. They never missed the most important moments of your life and were always there whenever you needed them. Those two were your best friends.

For the rest of the evening, all of you enjoyed proper family time with games, stories shared between laughs and fantastic food cooked by your mum - she always dismissed the staff so they could spend the holidays with their families and the food was entirely her responsibility. She blushed when Mason said it was one of the best he ever had, and you knew he wasn’t just trying to find a way to her heart. He actually meant it.

“Mummy,” you felt Lily softly poke your ribs, seeming a bit shy to say what was on her mind. You offered her a kind smile in return. “Do you think there’s still time to rewrite my letter to Santa?”

You frowned. “Why, baby?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I think I can wait for the ice skates, I want to ask Santa for my dad to still be here in the morning.”

That was when your heart broke into a million pieces. “Oh baby,” you cooed, pulling a string of hair from her face, and took her in your arms, sitting on the same armchair where you first spoke to her while still pregnant. “He’s not leaving”.

“I just want to make sure, mummy…”

“I know, we’ll write if that’s what you want,” you quickly replied, not wanting to invalidate her feelings. “You know when you were still in my tummy and was the size of a bean,” she giggled. “I sat in this armchair and spoke to you for the first time. I promised I’d try to be the best mummy to you and sometimes I wish I was better.”

“You’re the best mummy in the world,” Lily said, her small hand touching your face as her thumb softly stroked your cheek. You smiled softly.

“Now, in this same armchair, I promise that he’s not leaving. Your daddy is staying forever and now you have another grandma and grandpa, you have a cousin, aunties, uncles…”

“Do you think they’ll like me?” she mumbled, hazel eyes looking at you like she could see your soul.

“They’ll love you, peanut.”

“I’ll love them too,” she said before a long yawn, blinking a few times as she was clearly starting to fight against her need to sleep. “But I’ll always love you the most, mummy…” Lily mumbled before her eyes finally closed and, after a long sigh, her body finally relaxed in your arms and the usual low, cute snores started.

All the love that your daughter gave you had always been something that overwhelmed you. The way her face lights up when you pick her up at school, how she always wants to show you first the new things she learns, and how she’s always checking on you and making sure you’re happy were a few of the things that made you know for sure that if soulmates were indeed real, Lily was yours. Pride always coursed through your veins whenever she showed an act of kindness, and joy involved your entire being knowing that it had influence of how well you raised her - still, you still couldn’t shake the anguish that made your chest clench whenever you thought about how you prived her from another life the moment you decided to hide her from Mason. That was the feeling that kept you up for hours, rolling from one side to the other in bed, with the desperate need to cry always hovering over you.

After putting on your robe and grabbing the baby monitor, you guided your tired body to the kitchen and, trying not to make too much noise, prepared yourself a cup of chamomile tea hoping it’d save your life. You enjoyed the combination of silence and the sweet hot liquid relaxing your body - the house was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional creak of the floorboards and the soft hum of the refrigerator. Lost in your thoughts, you sat at the kitchen table staring at the half-empty cup, replaying the events of the past weeks over and over in your mind.

You heard soft footsteps and looked up to see Mason entering the kitchen, his face pretty much like yours: etched with worry and exhaustion. He hesitated a bit at the doorway before stepping in, your eyes meeting his.

“Can’t sleep too?” you asked gently, watching him take a seat across from you.

Mason shook his head. “Too much on my mind.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the table. Taking a deep breath, you felt your voice trembling as you spoke. “I need to say something.”

Mason looked at you, sensing the weight of your words. “Go ahead, Y/n. I’m listening.”

You wrung your hands, struggling to find the right words. Looking at him again, you felt a knot forming in your throat. “I feel so guilty about keeping Lily away from you. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but I realise it was a lot more about protecting myself rather than protecting her. Seeing you with her now… and how happy she is. I feel awful, and I know I was wrong.”

Mason sighed deeply, his emotions a turbulent mix of anger, sadness, and understanding.“I confess that this is like… my worst nightmare. A child from a casual hookup,” he confessed, and you felt tears burning your eyes. “And knowing this child exists five years later did make me angry. I’ve missed so much of her life and there’s so many things involved.”

Tears welled up in his eyes but you watched him wipe them away quickly. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“I can’t just insert myself in her life without thinking about every detail, it’s much deeper because I bring a lot with me to everyone that’s part of my life,” much to your surprise, Mason reached for your hand, and, with your heart skipping a beat, your pinkies intertwined again. “I’m angry and hurt but I’m willing to push that away because I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, at the same time. Lily is incredible, she’s sweet and kind and you’ve been doing a fantastic job. She’s more than I could’ve hoped for, so I’ll fight everyone and everything to keep her safe. To keep you safe too.”

You didn’t wipe the tears that rolled down your cheeks. “I robbed you those first five years and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that, but I hope you can, for Lily’s sake. She deserves to have both of her parents.”

Mason’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “I need to feel that I can trust you, forgiveness will eventually come, but it’s also not like I hate you,” you watched how his cheeks suddenly blushed. “I think you’re amazing and I often thought about you and always hoped that I could find you someday.”

“Just not under this circumstance, yeah?” you added, and you two shared a laugh that pushed away whatever tension between you.

Mason nodded, letting go of your hair to stand up from his chair and sit on the one beside you. “I’ll take what life is giving me. We’ll figure it out together, Y/n. For her, and us too,” he pulled you into a comforting hug as you clung to him, your sobs quieting as you found solace in his arms.

“I’m so grateful you’re here, Mason,” you confessed as he stroked your back soothingly.

“We’re a family now, Y/n. It’s going to be tough but we’ll get through whatever comes our way. As long as we keep Lily safe and give her the love and support she deserves, everything will be fine.”

You remained there in the quiet kitchen, holding onto each other, both knowing that while the road ahead would be challenging, you were committed to facing it together for the sake of your daughter. Holding hands, you walked back to the bedroom hallway in silence, and Mason softly kissed your forehead before heading back to his. You stood there for a few minutes, contemplating how his lips felt so good against your skin, before deciding you’d sleep the few hours left for sunrise with Lily. With her hair splattered over the pillow, she had a smile on her lips as she softly hummed words you couldn’t understand, which stopped when you cuddled her under the duvet and finally closed your eyes, letting sleep relax your body.

social media au

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount fic #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #dad!mason mount #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n

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the-kingshound · 1 day

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Warning inane ramble incoming, it’ll probably be annoying I apologize. (*_ _)人 I spent the last several days reading every post here. I managed to convince myself to start liking some (sorry about that I’m sure it was annoying to get all those notifications) I have this weird thing where I get nervous about liking older posts cuz I mean it’s been a long time and it’s unprompted so that’s weird right? It feels weird like I’m doing something wrong or I’m being annoying, I considered reblogging too but somehow that felt worse? Sorry I am not good with social rules they confuse me both on and offline Idk my brain is wrong and I’m just a nervous socially anxious snail. (＞﹏＜)

Anyways just wanted to gush about how much I love it here and I’m never leaving (´꒳`) ♡ First and foremost Yniol has a special place in my heart they will forever be my favorite bestie (*＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾*), yes I am biased as my partner is grey and though they don’t play IFs they were thrilled to learn about your character! Also your writing is just phenomenal, your fans are fun and creative, your characters give such warm and positive energy I love them so much they’re perfect, the inclusivity is such chefs kiss ( ´ з `) 🤌🏻✨, the angst is delicious, the fluff is so sweet and comforting, the spice is ... very blush-worthy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). This has been a journey I laughed, I cried, I giggled, and I blushed and I have enjoyed every bit of it from pasta discourse to Moldien cult wars to Arthur bunnies, I’ve had the most wonderful time. Now my mind is gonna be filled with Arthurian stuff for months my maladaptive daydreaming is having the time of its life I have a road trip next week and I’m so looking forward to just staring out a window for 6+hours while my Hound's just alternating daydream adventures with the cast o(≧▽≦)o. Also speaking of your amazingly wonderful, sweet, and supportive cast I have decided my (though I love them all) favorite poly pairings are Arthur/Morien and whole crew polycule I’d sell my soul for those but I 100% understand why you can’t really do that. I don’t think I have the endurance in me to code a single poly no matter how much I wish it so the fact you’re doing any let alone several is just god tier you are awe inspiring.

Alas I have rambled far far to much I wish I could be more eloquent in expressing just how much I enjoyed experiencing all of this but for now this is the best I can do (╥ω╥). Thank you for sharing your wonderful work it’s truly a gift to experience. ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧ I wish you wealth, health, and all the best in all your creative endeavors. -🐌

No, please please do not apologize. You made my entire week <3 This ask is straight up going into the folder where i keep my motivation to write and to be just a little proud of my work, thank you so so much for sending it.

For anyone having the same thoughts about liking or reblogging old posts: please do it. When I see the notifications, get very giddy and pleased, and I hope you are enjoying the food. Liking, and especially reblogging things, even more so if you add tags and reactons, not only fills me with glee but it also reminds me of old asks that I want to reblog again for new followers. So yeah, I love it, please feel free to go on a liking/reblogging spree!

You are so relatable for the maladaptive daydreaming (this game was absolutely born out of my own mental movies), I wish I could speed up the writing and editing for the next update so you can read it while you travel but I'm afraid it's a lost cause (I have been working on things, even now, but I am currently rewriting like half of it and while it is way better it takes sooo much time and energy). Knowing my characters and story are in someone's thoughts it the best kind of reward I need. I will never likely monetise this game, so this is the thing I wish to leave people with, and I hope the characters can be comforting and keep you company <3

You have no idea how much I would love to write the full polycule... maybe one day :,) But don't lose hope for the Arthur/Morien poly yet, as I decided to cancel the Gwyar/Morien poly and now I have a potentially free slot. In any case, awww, please know that this ask made me so happy today and will be in my thoughts as tkh is in yours.

Please have a lovely day and a lovely week and also a very lovely trip! Thank you again so so much!!

#lovely adorable anons #also never apologize for sening asks in anon i understand #i do the same #(anxiety)#love you!!#anon love

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zorosprincess · 1 day

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Abbreviate

PAIRING - Oikawa Tooru x Reader WC - 0.7K GENRE - Angst SYNOPSIS - You started to say: 'love you' instead of the whole phrase. I could tell you didn’t mean it anymore by your need to abbreviate. You dropped the 'I' and I knew what that meant. Subtle changes tend to indicate the beginning of the end.

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

Looking back on it now, you saw it coming.

For months you could feel the distance between you and Tooru growing. The distance between the two of you. A silly phrase. Not talking about physical distance. But in reference to the to the metaphorical distance... miles apart while his body was pressed against yours.

You tried to ignore it, the subtle difference. The first time you noticed it.

Tooru had dropped onto his side of the bed, rolling away like he did every night, turning towards your side with a sigh. He'd pulled your body comfortably into his like usual, your front pressed to his, your head tucked under his.

You'd pressed your kiss to his throat like you always did and mumbled words sincerely. "I love you, Tooru."

He'd hummed, pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead and mumbled back. "Love you, baby."

It was impossible to miss the pang that hit your heart in that moment. Your brain immediately tried to convince itself that you'd overthought the misspeak in that split second.

When he tilted your head up, pressing another soft kiss to your lips and whispering against them, "care to join me for a shower, my queen?" You were convinced to ignore it. To write is off as an effect of his exertion.

But in the middle of the night, when it was silent and you had nothing but time to think, you'd think of it again.

Had that moment really been the first time? Or had you missed another moment before that?

It was a constant battle of back and forth in your mind. It meant nothing and it meant everything. Both at once.

And then it happened again.

"I'll see you tonight?" His gym bag was thrown on his shoulder as he was headed off to classes and you smiled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek when he passed you in the hall on his way to the door.

"I'll be here." You joked back, knowing that you were in for a full night of catching up on school papers. You called when he reached the door, "I love you!"

"Love you, y/n!" He closed the door before the pang in your chest could fully settle back in.

And again.

"Are you going to be home for dinner tonight?" You called into the front of the house, leaning out of the kitchen just enough to see where Tooru was.

"Practicing late tonight." Tooru replied as he pulled on his shoes at the front door. "Probably shouldn't wait up."

"Okay," it wasn't ideal but it also wasn't unusual for him to practice late and come home after you were asleep, "don't push too hard okay?" He chuckled at the worry in your tone. "Then I love you, goodnight baby."

"Night," he called back as he stood up, "love you too!" He'd left before you could even fully process the hollow feeling settling in your chest and you'd spent the rest of the night convincing yourself it meant nothing.

It was unintentional. When it happened the first time. And the second. And the third. Then it was unintentional when you began to count the amount of times he dropped the "I" at the beginning of the phrase. As you noted his refusal to say the whole phrase.

Something in my mind had told you to pay attention. But each time it happened you pushed that little voice down. Chalked it up to your own insecurities. That he probably didn't even realize what he was saying.

The two of you always had the problem of you 'reading into his words too much' as he would say. He never meant them in the ways that you said they could be taken. You refused to bring it up, to push it more. Refused to start a pointless argument just in case you really were only hanging on by a threat.

But you knew. Deep down you knew what it meant. Thinking back now, the subtle change. An indication.

When you were staring at him now, watching him put physical distance between the two of you, not just metaphorical anymore. When you finally heard him put the 'I' back into his statement. You weren't happy to hear it then.

"I love you, y/n. But I'm done. I can't do it anymore." I. I. I.

You should have known. That night lying in bed with his body against yours. The first time the 'I' was dropped. I should have known what it meant.

The beginning of the end.

a/n thanks for coming to the free therapy of fictionalizing my irl breakup experiences. based on an unreleased song by @/leannafirestone on tiktok

TAGLIST - OPEN @all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings

#oikawa angst #oikawa toru angst #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa fanfiction #oikawa toru fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #𓇻 Desiderium

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thelaurenshippen · 2 days

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When you write your characters, do they have specific, locked-in physical appearances? Does that only come once you get the characters cast/does it match what the VAs look like irl? I was thinking about how, when I listen to TBS I picture the characters different than you probably do or how other listeners do.

For me, I usually only picture things like height/build and hair color/length, but even that is different from other interpretations I see in fanart. What’s it like to see fanart of characters who don’t have faces?

great question!!! no, absolutely not, pretty much never. I have a hard time coming up with character appearances even in books--I am just not a visual person! in writing prose, I of course do have to determine what they look like, but it's not usually the first thing that comes to mind.

when I wrote TBS, I had absolutely no thoughts about what the characters looked like beyond certain vibes (mark: handsome, agent green: beanpole, damien: exceptionally average, etc.) but that said, I'm not sure I necessarily picture every single character looking like their actor. and that's largely because we have so much incredible fanart for the show, that every time I see a new version of a character, I'm like "that's it!". so, to answer the last question in your ask, it RULES

but it's a little different depending on how the casting went. with the exception of Chloe and Sam, almost all the original roles in TBS (so, the first four seasons), were written without a specific actor in mind okay, I started to write a long paragraph about each of the characters and then realized it might be fun to go through the whole original cast and talk about how each actor ended up in that role--

(my god this got long I'M SO SORRY I feel like I've hijacked your really nice and straightforward question)

Sam - easy; she was written for me, she is me, and yet I never picture her looking like me

Chloe - I knew I wanted to get Anna to be a part of the show, so I wrote Chloe with her in mind. but I also don't really picture Chloe looking like her!

Dr. Bright - the hidden lore of TBS is that I thought about playing this role for about half a second, instead of playing Sam (thank GOD I wised up). I don't remember the thought process of casting Julia at all because I'm pretty sure I was just sitting in acting class one day as she was doing a scene and was like "oh, there she is"

Caleb - god, it's so weird to try and remember when these people were strangers to me - Briggon was so big-hearted in acting class, that I knew he'd bring so much to Caleb. but it was watching him do a gruffer scene in class that made me ask him - I wanted Caleb's big heart to make itself known more slowly. Briggon has an essence that I picture with Caleb, but I don't picture Briggon as Caleb, if that makes sense.

Adam - in lots of ways, Briggon cast Adam! he and Alex had been buds for ages and when I wrote the episode in which Adam first appears, I needed someone to do a few quick lines and Briggon suggested Alex. and that was supposed to be that - I had no plans to ever have Adam appear in the show again. but then, of course, we recorded with Alex and I simply had to make him a presence in the show. ditto here in terms of essence vs. appearance.

Damien - I remember the moment I (mentally) cast Charlie so vividly. I'd already shared the season 2 script where Damien first appears with Julia and she was very eager to know who I was going to cast - I think we were talking about it before class, because we both knew that we needed someone very specific and very good. and I'm like "idk! I haven't thought about it in depth yet!". and then Charlie was doing some scene or other in class and Julia and I literally leaned forward in our chairs so that we could look down the row at each other because we had the exact same thought at the exact same time. and we shared this look and that was that. I've never pictured Damien as looking like Charlie, because Charlie is way too good looking.

Mark - these next two were really hard to cast. mostly because I had such a specific idea in my head of a vocal tone/vibe, and I didn't know any actors who fit that perfectly. and it took several weeks of sunday classes with Andrew before I asked if he wanted to get coffee and talk about it. and it took that long because Andrew has this very annoying thing about him where he's literally so versatile and so grounded and real and fucking good in every role he does, that every time I'd watch him perform, all I could see is what he was doing in the moment and nothing else. I would get totally lost in what he was doing and, of course, it is that exact quality that makes him such a compelling Mark. I picture Andrew as Mark about...32% of the time.

Agent Green - an insurmountable task. no one in my acting class was right for it. no friends of friends were right for it and I asked around a lot, got sent a lot of voice memos. and then I was doing a short film with Anna and Ian was there - I'd met him once before when he was in a Rocky Horror production with Anna - and I really dug his energy. and he wasn't right at all for what I was imagining Agent Green to be, but I was like "you know what, I want to work with this actor, and it's one small-ish role in two episodes" and then we got Ian in with Julia and all of a sudden I was like "WELL I GUESS I HAVE TO WRITE A WHOLE AGENT GREEN STORYLINE NOW" (this has happened to me several times. goddamn actors). I think the Green in my head is like...the combination of Ian and his common fan art representation.

Wadsworth - I met Alex doing the same short film - she was in it and also doing fight choreographer and was just incredibly competent and cool. I knew I wanted Wadsworth to be someone who could really boss people around but, like.....in a hot way. it helped that Alex and Ian knew each other pretty well, because obviously that dynamic is central to both those characters. and I think, similarly, Wadsworth is half Alex, half fan art in my head

Frank - I hadn't really planned on bringing Frank into the show itself - kind of an Adam situation - but I saw Phillip do a very interesting intense scene in class and just....couldn't stop thinking about it. despite writing the role into the show more or less for Phillip, I don't really picture Frank as looking that much like him.

Rose - this one was pretty straightforward - I wrote Rose, thought through actresses I knew who had a particular energy and could also sing and Alana popped into my head right away! (the only other actress that came close was Helen, who plays Helen in TAMA which, as you can guess, was written for her. she's got an incredible singing voice like Alana does, but Alana was the better fit, and I got to have Helen villain it up, which was so fun, and have a fucked up thing with Wadsworth (Alex and Helen are irl besties)). but I don't picture Rose in any particular way, other than the cover art for SFP!

Charlie - I loved Ars Paradoxica, I loved Reyn in Ars Paradoxica, and it just felt right. I do think I picture Charlie as Reyn actually.

honorable mentions from the spin-offs:

Mags - I knew pretty much immediately that I wanted to get Bryce in the mix of TAMA and wrote Mags for her in the same way I wrote Chloe for Anna. Bryce and I met doing a production of Spring Awakening years and years previously (she was Martha, I was Wendla) and she's such a talent! I don't really picture Mags like Bryce though - I think I picture Mags as being much nerdier.

Beck - Jason "Marley" Beck has a very specific description in the books. he's a tall, hulking white guy with a buzz cut and a kind of frankenstein's monster energy to him. he's pale as shit. when I wrote him into TCT, I looked for actors like that (and found some truly great ones!) but I'd left the role open and when I heard Chris's audition I was like "welp. that's Beck. I guess Beck is going to be Black in podcast canon!" and that's what we did. podcast canon and book canon are technically two slightly different versions running on parallel tracks, and I wanted to go with the actor that I felt best fit the role, regardless of the fact that the book had already been published. so the image of Beck in my head is different for the book and the podcast.

Oliver - ah, Oliver. the surprising fan favorite. or, really, not that surprising, because I had the exact same reaction to Kristian when I first met him. he auditioned for a role in Passenger List and, while I was of course already a fan of his from Orphan Black, I was still shocked at just how much fun the audition was. and to be clear: auditions suck so so so so so bad. and for PL, they were full 6 hour days of watching actor after actor after actor and, well, it's my least favorite part of the process always. but for the, like, 5 minutes Kristian was in the room, I was having a genuinely good time. so of course we cast him and he was as lovely to direct as he'd been in his audition. when Caitlin came up with Oliver, I think we both had something very different in mind. but there was a mad scientist energy to him that made me think of Kristian so I pitched him to her and she liked the idea and the rest is history. and then, of course, he and Andrew's chemistry was a wild lovely surprise, so we brought him back. gun to my head, I could not tell you what I think Oliver looks like.

#lauren answers things #the bright sessions #actors #casting #lauren takes too long to say things #good GOD what kind of weird rambling monologue did I just write

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disruptivevoib · 2 months

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There are many silly little things about this piece. Exeggutor as a whole, for starters.

#chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj soul #fanvoids #technically pokemon but #I really did have fun with this piece..#man he really put lipstick and a blindfold on a tree and called it a day #did get worried I'd overworked it but nah I like it in the end #also mind and heart are on their ways. Whole too probably #Whole is not designed though. The other two have been designed for like 2 weeks same as Soul

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crossbackpoke-check · 5 months

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Hello, im wehaveagathering from my main blog, im kind of obsessed with your hockey poetry edits and I think your blog is great! I guess I kind of have a dumb question, where do you find the images you use for your edits? Did you say Getty in your tags?? I’ve gotten into making icons recently (and i have ideas for poetry edits hrrrghhh) but it’s hard to find high res images. Thanks for your time and I hope you have a nice day :)

first of all thank you so much 🥹 and second that’s absolutely not a dumb question!! i do pull a lot of images from getty and i’ll also download pictures from sports articles (i got a lot of the hugheses pictures from online access articles, for example), or sometimes from instagram/facebook/twitter if an account is public. freely admitting that i am not technologically advanced? inclined? in the slightest here, but the image editing software that you use and how you import/export photos with it makes a difference in the quality of them as well!

if you haven’t seen them yet, i would also recommend checking out @simmyfrobby @national-hockey-lesbian @hauntedppgpaints @tapedsleeves @starscelly and @captainbradmarchand’s blogs just off the top of my head!!! they might know more places to get high res images and also i love their work 💕🫶

#sorry can’t type hands all butterfly hearts i’m just out here like 🥰🥰🥰🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭💕💕💕#@ everyone i tagged ty i love you i hope you don’t mind the tag 😘 also i KNOW i am unintentionally forgetting people so tag them at will #forgive me i am eepy. we are running on <4 hours of sleep and over 18 hours awake 🫡#liv in the replies #join the club!!! join the club!!!!! we love the hockey poetry edits!!!!!! i’m so excited to see what you create!!!!! :)))))#the process of me finding images is very much like. either i have a vision in my head and i troll getty looking for it or my screenshots #if i know i have one l m a o but either way i am always 68 pages deep in a hyper specific search labeling my photos like ‘ohHHH buddy’#‘menace 1 abd 2’ ‘but he’s not a cup winner’ ‘ohhhh the nolpat media scrums are rich earth’#‘because WILLY WON’T CUT HIS HAIR’ ‘deJA FUCKIN MILK BAYBE’ ‘is it truly sn edit if u don’t find a devastating baby pic’ ‘yes MF last line’#and so forth. like. glad it’s comprehensible to ME but if anyone else ever tried to use these photos based on file name alone i am so sorry #also i forget that y’all can’t see all of the metadata notes on photos to know where they’re from :/ i gotta be better abt making it clear #also on the note about image quality i just need to state for the record i am so photoshop whatever illiterate.#i learn one (1) new trick on GIMP a year maybe two if i am lucky & no i have never figured out consistent sizing 🫡 but the one hack for res #i HAVE figured out is that when i do edits i usually make a whole doc w/the poem lined up on it (helps me keep somewhat consistent sizing)#and then i export that document as a pdf and edit the pdf in the software instead of trying to screencap or jpeg or anything. PDF quality >#that is probably so convoluted lol if anyone has tips please lmk i am always learning #ANYWAY. rambling u did not ask for but is inherent to Me.#have a great day too!!!!! you literally made mine so 💕😭#wehaveagathering #indecisor

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thebirdandhersong · 1 year

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But where do I put all this love? It's inside of me, growing and festering and threatening to explode out of me. Who do I give it to now? Where does it go? Where does it go to fade away? Where does it go to die a quiet death? There isn't a pair of familiar hands to receive it anymore, and no longer a welcoming mailbox waiting with its mouth open. Where does it all go and where should I put it? Who do I love now, the way I loved that boy?

#what a headache this is. i dont love him anymore which is just as well because oftentimes that ish HURT.#but whose hand do i hold who do i cook dinner for who will turn to me with laughter in their eyes #like they know i understand the joke who will hold the umbrella so far over my head their whole sleeve gets wet #who do i send letters to while full knowing i'll never get a response but still hoping for one who will wink at me across #the dinner tablr who will walk me home who will i think of while im dancing in the kitchen #who will i make tea for who will i agonize over while planning birthday and Christmas gifts #who will i love the same way? where do i put this mountain of love #what do i do with all the little specific ways i learned to love #and who will love me when the only person who has ever looked and me and said i love you and i want to cherish you #was also the person who made me feel like an afterthought a sincere but directionless fling #who made me feel undesirable and unseen and unwanted? i have never felt so unwanted the way i felt at the very end #anyway this is probably a sign that im up way too late anyway what is the point in wondering lol #since breaking up with the boy i have shot my shot with four other friendly candidates #and have been gunned down by disinterest or unfortunate barriers #since breaking up with him four of my friends have gotten engaged and one has begun a new promising relationship #and four others are pregnant. when will i not have to examine my heart #and see the ugliest kinds of covetous resentful thoughts and feelings and be like #ah yes this is not a healthy response #also no wonder the only boy who ever thought you were worth loving never loved you fully and completely #he signed up for what he thought was a beautiful heart a beautiful mind a beautiful soul no wonder he was disappointed

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dutybcrne · 1 month

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Me BSing hcs like: The fact that Kae is not only able to create a shield when he is dangerously low HP but also the fact that he is able to regenerate HP when he hits opponents with Frostgnaw is definitely due to him receiving his Vision when Diluc had tried to kill him in their Confrontation...but could it be possible that his familial ties to the Abyss Order could have influenced that HP drain of his-

#//And that's without mentioning the fact that Glacial Waltz's duration increases FOR EVERY OPPONENT DEFEATED #//Between that and his lil teleporting trick like an Abyss mage's (minus the flurries of ice); I have SO many thinkings #//Deffo love the abilities of his being an amalgam of Vision based and Abyssal energy imbued #//Deffo love that fact meaning it hurts a bit to use his Vision at all; esp with the teleporting being such a Staple to his combat style #☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//Sidetracking a bit; but I also like to think that even after the Abyss is defeated/beaten back enough to not be such a threat; he'd still #keep his abilities from it/some connection to it. Bc he's so used to it being such a big PART of his fighting style/assets to use in a pinc #//But also bc keeping that connection means it'd help him keep track of any remnants of the Order far easier #//He could track them down with far more ease; sense if they are growing stronger; get intel from Domains/abyssal traces #//Of course being very mindful to keep it a secret & trying to not involve his loved ones/fellow knights of it all #//But he very much is careful esp bc of risks of him being corrupted by it; keeping a keen eye on his mental/physical/emotional states #//Deffo has plans to leave Mond and/or end his own life if he starts seeing the Abyssal corruption affecting him irreversibly #suicide mention tw #//Kind of but also kind of not; considering some of the ways how he'd go abt it #//Knows it'd be harder to the further it goes; so he has particular criteria he keeps tracks of to ensure if they come to pass #//he; in a clearer state of mind; would either 1) use his Vision to try & purge the energy out of himself (extremely painful; COULD kill #if the corruption runs deep enough & save him the trouble) or 2) use the aggressiveness of the corruption to provoke someone (esp Luc)#into taking care of him &thus ending the problem all together. Bc he KNOWS he's strong; only a handful of beings could actually kill him #//& actually be WILLING to; without hesitation. Luc comes to mind first bc of their Confrontation. But also bc Kae'd be happy w him being #the last person he ever sees. Thinks it'd be comforting more than anyone else. Esp since a lover would just break his heart to see them #//Worst case scenario is him falling to the corruption & sb breaking it out of him in the moment #//Bc the Instant he realizes what's happening; esp if they are crying and/or angered at him; he WILL fatally wound himself #//And make SURE it's not something he can come back from; save by a miracle (or 'curse' as he'd see it)#//Probably making an icicle and slitting his own throat; if not jamming the thing into his heart #//he won't hesitate; wont offer explanations; final words or apologies; he cant risk that moment of clarity being too short for it #//he HAS to make sure he can't hurt anyone any further; no matter what it means for him #//Which is partly why he'd be so keen to make sure it's not found out; bc he KNOWS he can be talked out of keeping those abilities #//Or worse; he'd fight them on it; and thus make for a fucken MESS in the aftermath if he's been too far along in the corruption #//But he KNOWS that even with the risks; the powers are a VALUABLE asset to him; &thus desperately wants to keep them #//'sidetracking a bit'; I said. Proceed to write a wHOLE FUCKEN NEW HC IN TAGS; I did; kjfbgkftg. Whoops lmao

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noxtivagus · 1 year

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the drk brainrot is so real i'm just rambling abt my thoughts on it again

#🌙.rambles #[ ffxiv. ]#it's probably very obvious but the drk quests r one of my favorites in the whole game #oh my god i'm a dark knight at heart really just everything abt the story means a lot to me #i love the way they touch on stuff with heroes n. light n dark stuff n justice n. love is a central theme #there's familial stuff there's platonic n sure romantic too ig n then there's also self-love n forgiveness n yeah :<<#atoning. n then. it touches a different side of the wol as the 'warrior of light' n i really really love stories like that so much #some of my other favorite uh. idk the word but aspects of ffxiv's story? would be hmmm #relating to songs. there's a lot that means a lot to me but two of the first that come to my mind would be 'to the edge' from shb msq #& 'return to oblivion' in eden!!#stuff w the ancients r my favs too in general & i love the whole eden series.#ngl there's rlly just a lot . i love in ffxiv #hehe apollo n i r doing some roulettes w our ffxiv friend rn 🥺 I'M GNA FIX THE DISCORD SERVER SOON FOR OUR FC AAAA #i missed tanking so much i'm playing gnb in prae rn hehe #i've been leveling my other classes lately so that's. mostly healers n dps but uh i'm not caught up w a lot of my job quests (oops)#so w my responsibility i will not play pld till then. my healers r all 80+ so i'll focus on my lower dps yeah bcs i can do beast tribes for #lvl 80 classes like gnb. or fates since i haven't maxed those out yet #I MISSED FFXIV LIKE THIS SO MUCH UWAHH i'll do the starlight event later n maybe farm a bit for moogle tomestone?#n maybe. do some pf stuff too n. OH I'LL FINISH THE REST OF MY SCHOOL STUFF TODAY THO #i woke up at 7 today n slept before 11 n while another dream woke me up. i slept well enough n today is good c:#i feel very productive. it is great.#while i personally love playing all the classes in ffxiv. dps is just too simple for me. i love the responsibility of tank n healer #especially in savage. i really really love both uhh job types so much idk how to say it but tank is just! i like being in the lead >.>#esp in savage fr oh my god i miss raiding so much

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aliceramblez · 4 months

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Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x reader #husk x reader

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hyunsvngs · 2 months

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i saw seungmin in this shirt and my mind broke down. also yes me and ems wrote fics for the same fanmeet outfits without realising

wc: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, dirty talk (seungmin is mean), dom seungmin, sub reader, exhibitionism? anyone could walk in, blowjob, boot humping, unprotected sex, creampie

“I don’t- I can’t-”

Seungmin’s lips press to yours again soothingly. He’s still sweaty from the fan meeting, and his lips are a little wet. “It’s okay, calm down.”

You’re backstage and way too worked up. Going to the fan meeting and seeing your boyfriend in all his glory onstage was one thing, but when he walked out in that damn Diesel top? Yeah, you were sure you’d had a heart attack. You jumped his bones as soon as he walked backstage and he’d carted you off to the nearest separate dressing room to ‘calm you down’, much to the jeers of the other boys.

There’s sweat beading onto your chest by the time you get him to stop kissing you, and you sink to your knees, breathing hot air over the front of Seungmin’s jeans. He peers down at you with a raised eyebrow, hands moving to his belt.

“Really? Right here?” He asks, and you only nod. “You’re feeling a little filthy today, aren’t you?”

“Don’t tease me,” You huff, nose nudging his growing erection. He wraps his fist around your hair and pulls you backwards, making you look up at him. He looks ever the image of power - the choice of attire accentuates the milky skin of his arms, and his eyes are dark when he tuts at you for ogling him like that. “You look so good.”

“Behave,” He murmurs. You nod again. You can’t do anything else when he’s in a mood like this, only nod and feel the gusset of your panties sticking to your messy folds. He’s feeling strict, but if you keep pouting up at him, eyes glassy, perhaps he’ll let you have it.

“Please,” You beg, bottom lip quivering. You’re not above crying to suck your boyfriend’s cock, and he knows that - hell, he’s made you cry over it before and probably will again. Tonight, though, it seems he’s feeling a little kinder than normal, because he lets go of your hair and starts to unbuckle his belt. “Oh, oh! Yeah, yeah, gimme, gimme-”

“Shut up,” He admonishes, eyebrows furrowed in contention. He pulls his belt from the waist of his jeans and they drop down to his thighs, stopped by the lean muscle. Only a beat passes before he lets you see it, firstly with the trimmed, pitch-black hair at his base, and then with the whole length of his cock bobbing up against the bottom of his abdomen. He’s still only half hard, a little soft when he polishes his cockhead with his hand, but it only takes a second before he’s standing at full mast.

You can hear noises from outside the door. It only serves to make you leak more into your underwear, shifting on your knees from where you are in front of him, but you’d never wish to rush Seungmin. He stares at you while you writhe, and then finally, finally, he nods.

You know what that nod means. You’re suckling the tip in seconds. He leaks steadily for you, and you whimper around his length when he moans at your actions. You’re used to sucking him off by now, and so you start to bob your head on as much as you can fit, moving your fist to pump the part of his length that you can’t quite reach. Seungmin’s hips thrust forwards once, twice, and then he gives up, moving his hands to your head.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat,” He murmurs. He gives you enough time to pull away, but you don’t, only moaning and moving your hands to rest on his thighs. “Yeah? You’re gonna let me do that here? That’s so fucking slutty.”

Of course you are. Your jaw goes lax, and Seungmin groans, his eyes rolling back into his head as he starts to thrust. He presses into your throat over and over, making your eyes water as you gaze up at him, but the whole thing’s so hot you can’t protest. Seungmin’s normally iffy about messes but with the way you’re drooling all over his cock, you’re not sure he minds right now.

You can’t help yourself. Your hand dips underneath your skirt and starts to rub circles into your clit, through your panties and Seungmin’s oblivious for a moment. He thrusts into your mouth a few more times and it’s the wet whine you let out that gives you away - Seungmin’s eyes open, peering down at your disshevelled figure on the floor.

“Mm, don’t do all of that,” He murmurs condescendingly. His thrusts stop and he lets his shaft slide out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You’re allowed to sit there and gasp for air for a moment, but then Seungmin’s boot nudges into your knee.

The position’s a little awkward, but you spread your legs and let him push his boot underneath your skirt for you to hump into. It’s a nice gesture from Seungmin, who’s normally scathing words and even worse spankings, but then he fucks into your throat so hard it makes you gag.

“Take it,” He huffs, and then he’s doing something ultimately worse. With his fingers intertwined in your hair, he grips your head and starts to bounce it on his cock. You’re whining hard by now, hips kicking up a fuss on your boyfriend’s shoe, and you see his eye twitch when you gag on one pull downwards with a sharp wail.

He pulls out of your mouth with a fuss. He’s quick to yank you up by your hair, pulling you over to the nearest vanity to bend you over. You don’t mind - you’re embarrassingly eager, actually, letting your knees fall apart to show your man the mess you’ve made of yourself. His hand moves to your hair to push your skirt over your ass. The cold air hitting the sodden fabric of your underwear has you keening, pushing your ass backwards. You can’t see yourself from your position, tummy down on the vanity table and face buried in your arms, but you know you must look like a certain debauched type of picture.

“You wanted me that bad, huh?” He muses, thumb sweeping over your core. You whimper, nodding with a twitch of your leg, and then Seungmin’s yanking your panties to the side. Before you can squeal, to make a noise to acknowledge him, he’s sinking his whole length in you at once. “There you go. You’ve got it now, feel it, whore. Feels good?”

“Feels s’good,” You slur, drool slicking your bottom lip just from the stretch of him. Seungmin’s longer than he is thick but he’s still enough to have your pussy throbbing, clit aching for stimulation from the feeling of him pressing at your walls. “Feels g-good, fuck me, fuck me- please, please, guh- gotta-”

“Yeah, okay,” He sighs, as if he’s annoyed, and then he’s rutting into you so hard you swear your eyes cross. Seungmin groans and grunts with each gush of your pussy around him, and when his hand moves to your hair again, he’s yanking your face out of its safe haven. “Look at yourself. Fucking look at that.”

You have to. Your eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and you’re drooling so hard it’s affected some of your makeup. Your cheeks are flushed, obvious that it spreads down your neck and to your chest, and you’re still fucking your hips backwards to try and get more of him.

“Please,” You watch yourself say it, lips kiss-bitten and broken. “Please give it to me harder, Seungminnie, I need it.”

“You need it?” He questions, just to watch you nod so hard you look like a dumb little bobblehead. “Okay. Don’t take it back, then.”

His confidence would be sickening if it isn’t for the way he starts to fuck into you so hard you squeal. His mushroom tip kicks into your cervix with every thrust, and you can see him gritting his teeth with the speed of it all. He’s still holding your hair, and you watch yourself finally begin to cry, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure.

You whine and writhe, and Seungmin’s other hand goes to your ass to keep you down, laid flat for him. Your nipples are so hard through your shirt that it’s starting to hurt, and when you shift your hips again, he hits a spot so good that you sob wetly.

“There! There, there, there, please don’t- don’t stop, Seungmin, I’ll fucking cum,” You babble, and your eyes finally fall shut. Seungmin doesn’t reprimand you for it, only continuing his pistoning into that same exact spot that has you babbling out profanities and half-spoken words. “Yeah. Yeah! There, there, fucking- I’ll cum so good, I’ll cum so-”

“I know you will, f-fucking whore,” His voice is faltering, and you know he’s getting close. “Cum for me. Shut up and just fucking cum.”

It explodes behind your eyes. Your toes curl with it and you gush and wail on Seungmin’s cock, walls fluttering so deliciously around the slick slide. He helps you ride it out, hand now pulling you backwards with each thrust, and then he’s letting go of your hair so unceremoniously it falls with a thud back to your arms.

You’re just panting now, pussy still clenching down on your boyfriend through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and Seungmin starts to chase his high. It only takes a few ridiculously fast thrusts for him to finish, and he pumps you full of his cum easily with a loud groan.

He slips out of you and you let out a whimper, causing him to make his own answering, mock-whimper in response. You hear him shuffling about behind you and when you finally open your eyes, tilting your head towards him, he’s looking for tissues with his wet cock in his hand.

“Seungminnie,” You giggle, kicking your feet. The action only causes his cum to drip out of your pussy and down your thighs, and you groan in disdain, immediately halting his movements.

Seungmin laughs. “That’s karma for laughing at me when I’m trying to help you.”

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madschiavelique · 10 months

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Hi dear, how are you?, could you write an imagine onde reader mentioning offhand how much she would love a whole family. Four, maybe six children? Girls and boys split right down the middle, but the second Miguel hears this (maybe the reader is on the phone, or talking to lyla. or someone at HQ) and Miguel loses his mind

1) Miguel can't help himself and he would grab you and put you on the mattress for a very long time...... or

2) torture himself for two weeks before telling her why he was avoiding her please.

HIHIHI BREEDING BARK BARK (sorry this took so long to write anon zehfrfgh i pulled an all nighter to make this one so also forgive me if there are some mistakes in this gksffgjgbf)

summary : miguel learns you want kids, a lot of kids, so he breeds you

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex - unprotected (be safe kids), breeding kink, soft!dom miguel, obsessive!miguel, no use of Y/N, fem!reader word count : 3,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash @haradasaya

Miguel was on his way to see you. He'd heard that you were back from your mission and that everything had gone well, so he'd come to get you to take you out for lunch.

He was taking advantage of the little free time he had to visit you, even though he would obviously pass this visit off as work-related in everyone's eyes. He had to always, always remain professional and keep everything under control so that everybody could do their bit.

"Six?!" asked Jess, the word choking in her throat.

Well, you were indeed back with Jess.

"Mhm, six," you affirmed as you both busied yourselves filing a report.

What were they talking about? He leaned against a wall. He knew it wasn't very polite to eavesdrop, but the word got around here. Most of society's building had cameras, and everything that was often said or done was recorded here.

He just wanted to listen to you, wondering if there were any topics of conversation that you weren't having with him and with the other spiders. Yes, he was manic, and probably a little too obsessive.

In any case, he wondered what you could have said to Jessica to make her exclaim like that.

"The more the merrier," you laughed softly.

"I hate this sentence so much," sighed Jess.

"Why so?" your voice was sincerely interrogative.

"In this context, it's really not my preferred idiom one might say," she replied as Miguel heard her tapping on a pad to enter more information.

What on earth could they be talking about? he wondered. What subject could suggest that six was far too high a number for Jess's judgement? He knew that Jess was an oragnised woman like himself, with a lot of tact and a fair amount of authority.

Was it perhaps a consecutive number of days doing an activity? Six days of marathon running might have been a bit much, but six days' holiday was never too much. He breathed in very softly, it had been years since he'd had time for such a thing. Did you want to take him on a holiday? If so, the number of days was inordinate. He would never be able to get away from his work for more than three days.

Maybe it was something else then. What was too much in Jess's mind with six?

Six empanadas perhaps? Miguel would obviously disagree. You can never have enough empanada for his taste. But Jess would probably disapprove.

Six... Six pets? It's true that having six pets might be a bit of an exaggeration, at least in Miguel's eyes of course.

Perhaps six books? No, that didn't make sense. Although Jess wasn't a huge reader, she did have a book in her hands from time to time.

So what was it? He was intrigued, that's for sure.

"You know, in my opinion, one kid is already way too much to handle," she sighed, "but six ? Nah, that's some good way of ending your life while still being alive."

But Miguel had barely heard the rest of the sentence, his mind having been caught by a single word: kid. He immediately froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Kid, like... children ? Like, actual human beings ? Small human beings ?

His eyes were wide, his mouth parted. No, he must not have heard correctly, although he dreamed that it was indeed that word that had been uttered.

"Why not? Surrounding ourselves with life is good," you said softly. "I'd love to see six little heads running around. I want three of each, three girls and three boys."

He wasn't mistaken: the discussion was really about the number of children you wanted. Six, he thought, six, six, the word echoing in his mind. He put both his hands on his hips, as if to hold on to something.

He pictured you, your rounded belly, stroking the hair of a child, your child, his child... both your children.

He swallowed, however, as another, immensely more tantalising vision took hold of his mind.

The vision of your cunt, glistening with your desire as from between its lips dripped little by little his own cum, his own seed leaking from you, your belly full of him...

It made his dick twitch for a hot second, and he couldn't remove that image, he didn't want to get rid of that image. The idea that your belly could be full of him, that he could breed you until he had no strength left was magnificent.

"What an egalitarian spirit," Jess noted wryly, "Well, it's all in order."

His thoughts were riveted on the image. He could almost hear in his own mind the sweet melody your moans would make as he came inside you again.

No, it was now impossible for him to think about anything else, he told himself that maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this. Except it's a well-known fact that if you tell someone not to think about something, they'll think about it.

He knew what breeding was, obviously, but what about you? Did you even have a clue what it was?

He tried to pull himself together, he had to either leave here or come towards you and pretend to come naturally. Would he be able to hold it together and act as if nothing had happened? Did he really have a choice in the matter after all? He breathed in, tightening his jaw as he decided to come towards you.

He walked purposefully, his usual grumpy face set surprisingly naturally as he advanced towards you.

"Ah, you're back," he sighed as if pleasantly surprised to see you both here, "how was the mission?"

"Excellent," Jess affirmed, "we've just finished the report, the anomaly has been taken care of as it should have been since we arrived."

He nodded, his serious face opening a control pad to check what she was saying and opening the file in question, pretending to read its contents. He had the impression that everywhere he looked the image came right back to him, on every tile, on every screen, everywhere in his mind.

"That's good work," he breathed.

"Damn right," nodded Jess. " Well, I'm off to join my own little demon, take care you two."

"See ya," you replied as she headed for the exit.

He wondered by what superhuman strength he managed to remain unwavering and stoic.

You moved closer to him, hugging his back and comforting yourself in the embrace.

"How was your day?" you asked, squeezing him in your arms.

Unwavering and stoic, Miguel, you have to remain unwavering and stoic.

You put your hands on his body, and with one touch his concentration was simply wiped out.

He turned to you, smiling a strange, uncertain smile as he stroked your hair, a little tense.

"You know how it is, just a lot of work," but his eyes were watching yours strangely, a flash of a vision where they were filled with desire looking back at him.

You studied him for a moment, noticing how distracted he seemed, his eyes looking at you in a strange way. You could feel a kind of desire there, a kind of longing, but you couldn't work out what it was.

"Is... everything alright?"

He shuddered, obviously his little show wasn't going to last much longer. He broke away from your embrace, he couldn't keep looking at you like that.

"Hey," you said softly, "you know you can tell me everything, right?"

Could I tell you this ? he wondered. He looked at you for a moment, another flash of you all moaning and covered in hickeys and marks on your body as you breathed his name. He looked away, closing his eyes in the hopes the flashes would stop.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak about this..."

But how he wanted to speak about this, to tell you how much he wanted to fuck you until you were full of him, until the only thing present in your mouth was his name and how much he wanted to see the sight of your round belly.

But you wouldn't listen to his silence. So you walked over to him and took his hand.

"Miguel, look at me. you asked, and he looked at you, his visions mingling with the reality where you were looking at him, worried. "Tell me."

He sighed. He couldn't run away from his ideas forever, run away from these images that he wanted to see in reality and not just in his mind. He wanted to raise his idea from the theoretical to the practical, and it was with an almost guilty breath that he admitted:

"I want to breed you."

There was a slight silence, his eyes plunged into yours, desperate to know what you were thinking. But above all he was met with confusion.

"What's breeding?" You had an idea of the term, usually used animalistically for the subject of... reproduction and maintenance of species. But just to be on the safe side with Miguel, you preferred to ask him anyway.

His lungs swelled like sails, did he really have to go through this?

"Why don't you ask Lyla what it is?" he suggested.

"Because I want to hear it from you, with your words" you assured him, your tone a mixture of strictness and curiosity.

He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek, slightly afraid of your reaction. You were practically hanging on his every word, waiting for him to explain.

"Breeding is... the act of a male and a female animal having sex, also known as mating, to reproduce..." he explained, pausing, "and procreate."

Your eyes widened slightly, and the possibility that he had overheard your previous conversation with Jess came to mind. All the same, you looked at him almost inscrutably, and he couldn't work out what you were thinking.

But now that the words had been said, he could no longer hide, no, he no longer had to hide. His thoughts were finally out, burning on his skin and lips.

He moved forward a little more, his gaze suddenly darkened by the desires he was no longer hiding.

"I want to fill you up with my cum and make sure you get pregnant."

Your lips were parted, your surprised eyes looking into his, black with desire and longing. A silence filled the air, both your hearts beating loudly in both your bodies. Miguel waited for an answer, unaware of the warm cloud that had settled in your lower belly.

He chuckled a little, an understanding smile gracing his lips as he said:

"See, your silence tells me enoug-"

"Breed me," you cut him off.

He stopped moving immediately, the statement immobilising him just like when he had understood what you and Jess were talking about.

Had his mind and his fantasies come together to play tricks on him? Or had you actually agreed with what he'd just said?

"What?" he said, his pronunciation almost slurred as he turned his attention to your next words.

"Breed me, Miguel" you repeated, determined as you swallowed in anticipation. "I want to carry you... in me."

The gleam in his eyes was almost predatory, but after all, wasn't that the very essence of breeding? The raw nature of it, the bestiality, the quenching of the oldest instinct that ever was.

You only had time to see his eyes turn red as he lunged for your lips, kissing you with his mouth wide open as your teeth almost clashed and he attacked your tongue.

The power with which he kissed you made you take a step backwards, but you weren't going anywhere, because Miguel immediately placed his hand in the small of your back to make sure he had you close to him.

He let out grunts between kisses, his hunger for your skin lengthening his canines as they brushed almost dangerously against your tongue.

Then he lifted you in one swift movement, placing you on his shoulder as he headed for the door leading to his quarters, his impatience growing faster than ever. You bit your lip, already swollen from his kisses, his hand gripping your thigh firmly as he led you to the bed.

He laid you down, following every movement of your body as he kissed you again. He stood back for a moment, watching your body.

"Do you have sentimental value for your suit?"

"What?" you asked, confused by the sudden question.

"Just answer," he asked through clenched teeth.

"I mean it's old but I can live withou-"

You hadn't even finished your sentence when he ripped off your suit with an ease that sent shivers down your spine, ripping the fabric covering your cunt, tearing your panties and throwing all the rags into the rest of the room.

"No questions about the sentimental value of my underwear?" you laugh lightly.

"I'll get you some new ones," he breathed, a carnivorous sneer inhabiting his lips, "I'll take great care in chosing them."

You swallowed as he kissed your neck, nestling in and marking your skin with thirst. He straightened to kiss your lips, and whispered against them:

"Turn over, get down on your elbows and knees".

You complied, his instructions increasing the size of the cloud of heat in your belly. You placed your folded arms flat on the sheets, your knees slightly apart.

"Lift your hips for me, nena," he commanded in a tone as soft as cotton.

You listened, arching your back as you lifted your hips, your ass gloriously up just for him to fuck. He swallowed, his hand coming to grip one of your buttocks and pulling it apart, pressing it between his fingers and gripping your skin full hand.

"Already so good and wet for me," he mused, one of his fingers passing between your folds.

Of course you were already wet, the way he had introduced the concept to you making you all fuzzy and warm in your belly. You'd never been against the idea of Miguel being a bit more violent, and to be honest you were excited by the idea of him being so from now on.

Once he'd coated himself sufficiently, he pushed one finger into you, soft moans falling from your lips filling the room. He added another one, and your lust was growing by the second. You were getting impatient too, but you couldn't help noticing that Miguel simply couldn't wait any longer.

Miguel was always very keen about taking his time, preparing you well apart from the few moments when one of you needed a quicky, but here eagerness was getting the better of him, and above all his most instinctive desires buried deep inside him had taken the reigns of all his actions.

The thought of him being in you through your core made him feel so drunk on you. These ideas had already been marinating in his mind for a while, it had only taken this conversation between you and Jess to flip the switch. And he observed in adoration, seeing you like this, underneath him with your much smaller frame, sitting up and ready to take him.

"Hands behind your back."

His orders became more and more urgent, his tone wavering with envy. It was impossible for him to formulate a whole sentence.

So you laid your face on the sheets, cheek pressed to your side as you brought your hands behind your back, joining your wrists together like you were imagining yourself handcuffed. You shivered as his hand, whose fingers had previously been inside you, reached out from between your folds and took both your wrists at the same time, locking them in this embrace. His hand was obviously big enough to hold both your wrists together and prevent you from breaking free from his grip.

He had locked you completely.

He had blocked out any possibility of you making a move other than squirming around him. Miguel would never tire of this control, this hold he had over you right now. You were his, nobody else's, and he would let eveybody know this by fucking his seed into you and get as many babies as you wanted.

That's when you felt the head of his dick coating itself with your juices, preparing to burry himself into you. You couldn't see Miguel like this, but you could hear him. Dark growls vibrated in his throat, deeper than you'd ever heard them before, and it felt intimidating.

He thrust, pushing his tip into you, and you let out a groan of relief that sank into the fabric of the sheets. You breathed softly, letting Miguel's thick, long cock sink into you. No matter how many times you had done it, taken him like that, you still couldn't get used to it.

His lower belly finally touched the skin of your ass, his dick deep inside you. And you felt him pressing against your stomach. You knew that if you brought one of your hands to your stomach, you'd feel the shape of his cock against your skin.

He was so deep in you, an almost bestial growl escaped him as he slowly began to pull back before thrusting in hard.

You let out a little cry of surprise and pleasure that echoed around the room, and he repeated the same gesture. He kept bearing down on you until he touched your slick on his lower belly and pulling away, pushing back in the next second until it'd touch his balls.

Your body was burning, unable to do anything but arch your back more and groan. Your hands were gripping the void, and the impossibility of finding a foothold in all this was making you feel out of control. But you were enjoying the sensations he was giving you, and so was he.

He listened to the symphony of your voice as he picked up the pace, the feeling of your gummy walls wrapping all tight and warm around him was absolute perfection to him.

He knew it wouldn't be long before his first cum would hit, but he needn't have worried. Miguel could go on for a long, long time, and he just hoped that you could keep up, although he had no doubt that his best girl would live up to his expectations.

He could no longer string a sentence together properly, the words he was trying to whisper as he sank deep inside you coming out as if chewed up by his long fangs.

He grunted, his rhythm and the tilt of your two bodies giving you both exceptional sensations. The knot in your stomach tightened, threatening to burst as Miguel came closer.

And the world stopped spinning for a second.

You came together, your walls closing spasmodically around him as you felt him spill into you. Because that's what you wanted, right ? That's the one thing you desired, and he was going to give it to you entirely.

He pulled out, just for the pleasure of seeing the work he had so long dreamed of seeing. And the satisfaction was superb, his white creamy cum slowly pouring out of your wet cunt, still pulsing with desire.

A dark laugh rose from his throat as he sank back into you and you let out a startled moan. He lowered himself, his lips pressing against your ear.

"I hope you thought of six names."

It would be a long, long night.

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malleleothreesome · 7 months

Text

Leona who is pining after you...

💛 summary: Cohesive blurbs about things Leona would do and what he would be like if he were pining after you. ༶༶༶ 💛 warnings: gender neutral reader, unedited, pretty much just a stream of my thoughts. There is cursing. Very angsty but also has romance. Mentions of depressive thoughts. A very raw look into Leona's mind. There is smut (wet dream) in the middle, marked with 🔞 if you want to skip to the next bullet. ༶༶༶ 💛 word count: 4.7k because I'm delulu

💛 Leona who is pining after you... tries to gaslight himself and cling to any sort of logical explanation he can come up with to try to convince himself that he definitely does not have feelings for you. It was probably just a one-time thing, and he just needs to find a way to get you out of his head. He's never thought about anyone this way before, so it's definitely just an error in his brain chemistry or something. It was only a coincidence that he happened to be thinking about you at that particular time, and if you had never been on his mind at all, his heart wouldn't be beating so fast every time he interacts with you. He would never allow himself to develop feelings for anyone, especially you, so he must not actually have any. It's really that simple. It couldn't possibly be that he's fallen for some weird, magicless human, right? Right?! There has to be something medically wrong with him! He must be crazy to have these kinds of thoughts about a stranger who just randomly poofed into existence at the beginning of the semester. Why did you invade his dreams? It doesn't matter! What the hell is wrong with him?!

It has to be a mistake, because there is no way he would EVER fall for someone as annoying and boring as you are, even if you do seem to have a better understanding of him than the people who have known him his whole life, and you treat him like he actually matters instead of seeing him as the scumbag you probably should have gotten to know better before giving him your time and attention. It's not like he genuinely cares what you think of him, anyway – he’s just grateful that he doesn't have to deal with another person treating him like a failure or a lazy, worthless piece of shit.

The way you look at him like he could be someone worth loving despite his constant tirade of anger is definitely not a key factor in him caring for you. Your smile and laugh makes his chest feel funny, and the fact that he is suddenly hyper-aware of his body when he's around you is probably just a symptom of mental or physical illness. Maybe he’s finally eaten too much red meat and he’s about to succumb to heart disease at the ripe age of 20. Perhaps he simply hasn't rubbed one out in a while and he’s thinking with his dick and not his head? He's definitely not attracted to you, and he's absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to kiss you right now. That would just be insane, and he can't believe he even let himself entertain the thought! He’d rather die than think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you sit on his lap, looking down at him with that beautiful smile and those cunning eyes of yours, gently stroking his face as you lean down to press your lips against his… oh, god dammit!

💛 Leona who is pining after you… finally lays down in surrender to the fact that, alright, maybe he does have feelings for your dumb ass – against all odds. He convinces himself that he’s only humoring this pathetic little crush because it makes his monotonous, tiresome days a little more riveting. Lions are predators, and the thrill of the hunt is a key part of their nature, after all. Before you, all he had to look forward to was staring at the ceiling in his dark room for most of the day until the stars showed up in the sky, or until he got roped into housewarden drama and became too frustrated to do anything other than restlessly pace around Savanaclaw before eventually confining himself back to the comforting solitude of his room. He tells himself he might as well allow himself the small luxury of thinking about someone who doesn’t entirely annoy the shit out of him, because he could sure as hell use the emotional relief. At least this way, he isn’t actively thinking about how much he hates his life, and how much he hates himself for letting it become this way. Besides, what would be the harm in letting himself entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe – if he was lucky enough – you could be the first person to ever break down the walls he built to keep himself from getting hurt by other people? Plus, if nothing else, you make for such a pretty daydream.

Every moment he spends with you makes him want you to keep sticking around even after everything is said and done. You can actually keep up with his banter, which is probably why he can actually stand being around you in the first place. No one else is capable of keeping up with his quick wit, or of providing him with a good challenge. You aren't scared off by his harsh demeanor, and you're able to stand up to him when he gets a little too overbearing. You don't take his bullshit, but you still care about his well being and treat him with respect. Despite his public struggles, you don’t see him as some sort of charity case. He's never met anyone else who is able to be so firm with him, but gentle at the same time. He didn't know someone could have such a strong presence without even having magic, but you're somehow always able to pull the rug out from under him, showing him that you're much more powerful than he initially gave you credit for. You're a real pain in his ass sometimes, but you're also the only person in years who's made him feel like life might actually be worth living. Maybe these feelings aren't so bad after all…

💛 Leona who is pining after you… starts leaving his room more often and even attending classes again, hoping he'll run into you on campus. If he doesn't see you, that would suck, but he knows if he stays in his room all day, then he'd risk losing the chance to spend the day with you completely. Besides, if there's even the slightest possibility, seeing you could be the highlight of his day and make even his shittiest days seem almost bearable. When you finally show up, he throws a casual greeting and a nonchalant raise of a single brow, pretending like he coincidentally ran into you in the crowd and totally didn't memorize your class schedule. When your face lights up, telling him you were glad to run into him, his pulse races and for a split second, a goofy grin flashes on his face and he desperately starts fighting his tail from swishing eagerly behind him. All he does is mumble in agreement, then shove his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes like this isn't what he's been waiting for since he woke up. He says he might as well join you in the cafeteria, because he's starving and it's that time anyway, so whatever.

As you enter the lunch line, your face falls in disappointment when you realize your favorite sandwich is sold out. Leona expected something like this would happen, so he asked Ruggie to grab him one of that type of sandwich along with his usual order, on the chance that he would get to spend lunch with you. He looks to his right, glancing at your slumped shoulders as your mood seems to deflate a little as a frown forms on your face. He steps forward and grumbles an off-hand comment that he snagged one earlier for himself, but since you look so pitiful, he'll let you have it, only because he doesn't want to deal with your incessant whining the whole lunch. When you gape up at him, shocked by his thoughtful gesture, his face starts burning red as he quickly turns away, aggressively stuffing a bite of food in his face to make himself look distracted. When he happens to catch your thankful eyes glistening at him, it feels like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, and the small smile and sincere gratitude tugging on the corner of your lips causes his stomach to do backflips. How annoying that his usually stoic demeanor always falls apart in front of you.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... constantly teases you and tries to embarrass you, attempting to make it sound like you're the one pining for him (even if you're not!) just to try to distract you from the truth. He teases you relentlessly, hoping it’ll make it so you won't feel confident calling him out on the little ways he treats you differently than everyone else. He loves seeing you get flustered trying to deny it, but he also uses it as an opportunity to study your reactions, trying to deduce your real feelings for him by the color in your cheeks, the wavering of your voice, how often you avert your eyes, and how quickly you fire back with an argument. The smirk that emerges on his face tells you exactly that he's not convinced, even if you deny everything. He may be subtle about it, but he uses every opportunity he can find to feel you out, to see if there's even the slightest possibility you might feel something for him. He'll never let you know how badly he wants it to be true with every fiber of his being. He’d be absolutely thrilled if you confessed to him, but he’ll never show it, because it's far more comfortable hiding behind sarcasm. His prideful, guarded heart prevents him from expressing genuine positive emotions and potentially opening himself up to any type of mockery.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... slowly becoming more attached to the idea of you falling for him. As the weeks go by and he hears you giggle as you argue with him, his thoughts linger a bit more when they try to calculate why he's not actually feeling burnt out from spending so much time with you. His patience with the rest of the world starts waning, not really bothering to deal with anyone or anything that could distract him from basking in your aura for as long as possible. He even takes a more active role in interacting with you, whether you two are chatting as he sits on a bench in the botanical gardens, or hanging out after-hours in his room, hoping that this could eventually become a common routine. He loves learning about you and the world you come from. When you open up about your background, he enjoys getting a glimpse into your mind. His brain starts rapidly filing away little details about you, creating a catalog of thoughts for each of his favorite things about you, or the little quirks you have that he secretly finds endearing. The memories of conversations where you both held each other's gaze for a fraction of a second longer than normal or the accidental touches that cause his heart to skip a beat come to life with a vibrance never seen in other parts of his memory bank. The time you grabbed his hand because the tree branches kept making “spooky” noises around you and the time you playfully messed up his hair (even daring to cop a feel of his ear in the process!), are some of his favorite memories to revisit.

As you two grow closer and more comfortable with each other, he pretends to be annoyed at you more often, only because he wants to test how well you can read him, and also how far he can push you. He revels in the way he feels a spark in his chest and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips whenever your eyes meet. He tries hard to remind himself that the growing heat rising to his face every time you grin at him is all because of the temperature. His playful touches start to become more sensual, his voice dips deeper and more seductive as his hands linger on your skin, his breath fanning against your face and neck with every taunting word spoken. He hates himself for loving the way you bite your lip and blush under his gaze as he continues to run his hand up your arm, causing your eyelids to flutter. He loves the feeling of power your vulnerable, affectionate expression grants him, the rush of endorphins so great he thinks his entire body might collapse. When he pulls his hand back, the stinging absence leaves him in a state of panic, terrified that this might have been the moment you'd realize how he feels about you and finally flee. In an effort to swallow his vulnerability and save face, he'll cover up his aroused desire with aggression. With a bite in his tone, he'll lash out at you, mocking the way you acted so touch-starved and desperate in the heat of the moment, even though the only one truly desperate here is him. He has to force himself to maintain eye contact and an air of dominance with you while he snaps at you, even as he feels his throat tighten, heart slamming against his ribs. He metaphorically shoves you away and leaves before he loses control, before his raw affection for you spills from his lips like a confession.

💛 🔞 Leona who is pining after you... fast asleep as he lies alone in bed, your figure haunting his dreams. Right before he fell asleep, he was having a particularly bad day and he found himself clinging to a fantasy of holding you in his arms, using you as an anchor to help him process the dread of reality. On a typical night, all he has are his regrets and unanswered questions swirling around in his subconscious, but tonight is different – he falls asleep dreaming about being curled up against your warmth, wondering what it would be like for you to stroke his hair, gently reminding him that there's at least one good thing to wake up for, no matter how empty the day may feel.

As he falls deeper into his slumber, his eyelids begin to twitch and his long eyelashes tickle his flushed cheekbones. He finds himself lost within a dreamy state that feels so very real to him as your face fades into focus. You're kneeling beside him in the bed, and his body is covered in the sheets, with your arms wrapped underneath his shoulder. He can barely tell whether or not this is really a dream at this point as you rest your head against his. He can feel his body stirring and his tail twitching, roused by the comforting and blissful affection. The way you smile at him as you run your thumb along the curvature of his sharp jawline stirs a dormant ache in his soul as you lean forward and leave featherlight kisses in the crook of his neck, causing him to whimper under his breath. He buries his nose in the locks of your hair, desperately wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing your face deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, craving the coziness and comfort of being physically close to the source of his yearning. In his dreams, your lips are able to be as soft and gentle as they are fierce and demanding, as the grip he has on reality grows weaker the longer he lets himself be trapped under the intoxicating spell you cast upon him, rendering him at the mercy of his deepest desires.

His breath becomes more labored and hitched, his temperature rising as a flush spreads across his face. His body starts moving involuntarily and he buries his hips further into his mattress, his aching cock desperate to be touched, throbbing as his precum smears against the sheets. He begins humping the bed, whining from the friction against his bare skin as he pulls you closer in his dream, shamelessly chasing after the erotic thoughts racing through his mind, fueled by the illusion of having you in his possession – ready to be ravished and worshiped by him and him alone. His full lips part as he moans your name. He thrashes around in his bed, a tingling, aching need radiates throughout his groin as his back arches off of the sheets, grinding his cock against the fabric of his blanket. He can almost feel the warmth of your body as he bucks his hips upwards once more, desperate for your heat. His fingers twitch as they clutch tighter onto the fabric, desperately trying to grab onto the illusion of you instead, wishing he could feel the texture of your skin underneath his fingertips. In his hazy state, he bites his lips and runs his fingers down his sculpted abdomen, his hand with a mind of its own, aching to reach lower. With a sigh of pleasure, he teases the tip of his leaking, throbbing erection as the muscles in his legs quiver with anticipation. He pushes his thumb against the slit of his tip, already wet with his excitement. He slowly rubs circles around his cockhead, causing his breath to hitch and his cock jerk at the sensation. In his unconscious mind, it's not his hand gripping his shaft – it's yours.

He wraps his large hand around the length of his dick, letting out a moan of pleasure as he starts to stroke, his pace increasing steadily with each pump, imagining what it would be like to have you kneeling between his spread legs, looking up at him as you jerk him off, begging to be fucked by him. His cock twitches and aches to be inside of you, to see your lewd expression as his dick fills you, his senses overwhelmed by the sight of you under him, sprawled out, sweaty and splayed wide open for the taking, gasping for air in between broken moans. His hips buck into his hand and he lets out a low growl as he feels the pressure building within him, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. He quickens the pace as he squeezes the base of his cock, stroking faster and faster, trying to keep up with the intensity of his dream. He wants to feel your velvety walls squeezing around him, milking every drop of cum from his throbbing cock. He pants heavily as the sensation of ecstasy courses through his body, moaning your name as he orgasms, his back arching off of the bed as he cums all over his hand, shooting thick ropes of hot cum onto his abs. He slows his pace, riding out his orgasm, lazily stroking his cock as it pulsates through his veins, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure tingling down his spine. With a final moan of satisfaction, he collapses on his bed, utterly spent from his activities. The euphoria of his orgasm fades away as he comes back to reality, slowly finding himself coming into consciousness. As he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the mess he made. He groans as he rolls out of bed, annoyed that he has to clean up after his wet dream before he can go back to sleep.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... falls into despair when he realizes his stupid feelings for you aren't going away – they're actually getting stronger by the day. You’ve made him feel like the world's not actually so cruel anymore, but he knows that his tiny, fragile castle is sure to crumble at any moment. Nothing good ever stays his way, does it? He's been telling himself that this was all some game. It's not like he actually wanted to be in a relationship with you, right? That would be far too much work. But what if you were actually worth the time? What if he could have someone who knew every aspect of his being and still loved and accepted him? What if he could be the person who's worthy of your beautiful, unrelenting love? Even as he chastises himself for entertaining the possibility of a relationship with anyone – especially a herbivore like you – a desperate, longing ache burrows into his bones, overpowering the cold, empty hollowness within him that had haunted him his whole life. This can't be love that he's feeling, and if it is... he knows now that love is the only strategy game in existence he's terrible at playing. There's no doubt in his mind he'll make the worst decisions imaginable because his entire being is clouded with insecurity. He is painfully aware that if he were to ever open himself up to the possibility of being with you, then his first thought would be of a thousand ways you would hurt him. He tortures himself with worries and fear, letting himself be consumed by anxiety.

The thing that frightens him most is becoming reliant on someone else for his happiness. Having someone whose opinion he actually values not thinking he is good enough for them is his worst nightmare. If there's one thing life has taught him, it's better to not have anyone at all. Besides, he doesn't even deserve you. There isn't a soul in this world who deserves someone like you – someone so selfless, understanding, empathetic, and forgiving. If you were his, you'd suffer. Your light would slowly flicker out from the darkness he would drown you in, just like everything else in his life that ever mattered to him. There is so much beauty to you that would go to waste in his care – why would someone as perfect as you ever settle for someone like him, anyway? There's no way you'd ever return his feelings. And even if you did… could he even be brave enough to allow you in? Does he have the strength to accept a heart freely offered to him? Will the scars and darkness within him allow him to accept such pure and unconditional love? He can't possibly be selfish enough to ask you to take the chance on him. You deserve to be with someone who is strong and complete – someone who can give you their whole being, wholly and unreservedly – not someone who is afraid of showing weakness, for fear of you leaving him broken-hearted. Someone who would actually have the capacity to love you like you should be loved. Not a broken, shattered shell of a Prince that could only ever give you pieces of his heart that are full of cracks.

Why the fuck does his chest hurt just thinking about the fact that you would be better off without him? It feels as if someone were stabbing his heart repeatedly, and no matter what he does, the wounds refuse to close and the blood continues to ooze through the cracks. He stares up at the dark ceiling of his dorm room as a single tear rolls down his cheek for the first time in years as he tries to cope with this excruciating feeling of hopelessness, despondency, and despair. The fear that you will one day be gone from his life grips his soul, his heart pleading with him to simply confess, yet his twisted mind forces him to remind himself of his inadequacy. What a sad, pathetic sight you would see, the once fearsome lion, pitifully pawing at your ankles as his heart poured itself at your feet, praying for the warmth of your love and the validation of your approval.

💛 Leona who is pining after you… hates how obsessed he is with you and your opinion of him. Every day he finds himself trying to be better because you make him want to try harder to make the world a brighter place. Maybe you're right, maybe he doesn't need to be King in order to lead people and do great things. Because of the friendship you two have nourished, he finally feels comfortable opening up to you and talking to you about what he's going through: his past, and how much he truly cares about everyone's safety, success, and overall happiness – a sentiment that's foreign to everyone who's ever known him in the past. Although he still can't bring himself to vocalize his emotions aloud, you now truly understand the message his eyes are always trying to relay, no matter how small the glimpse: even if he was destined for a fate in the shadows, his biggest hope is to someday become the leader he was supposed to be. His newfound vulnerability allows you to slowly chip off the armor that guards his heart and bring him peace, healing his wounded spirit. Because of you, he now understands what it feels like to be valued and treasured by another, and he feels empowered enough to put the effort into doing something to change his future for the better. It scares him how badly he wants to impress you, wanting you to be proud of how he's matured.

Before taking on the daunting task of bettering his Kingdom, he starts with something small – making a positive difference in your life. You actually make him feel useful. He loves the way you look up at him with admiration. He knows now that one of the reasons he fell for you so hard is because you always ask for his advice – knowing damn well he's the smartest person in this godforsaken place – and you actually take it. You listen to him and you value his opinions. Seeing things work out for the better when you take his advice and enact his plans gives him a rush of pride and confidence. It motivates him to keep working hard to have good ideas that benefit the world. He's always enjoyed helping people even though he's bad at putting it into words, or showing his true intentions, instead preferring to keep people guessing while he hides behind his indifference and nonchalant attitude. But now, thanks to you, he finds that the more time he spends caring about helping the people around him, the more understanding and honest he is with himself, the happier he becomes. He's feeling more confident stepping up to the plate, having less fear of letting himself or the other people he cares about down.

He started feeling honored to be the housewarden for Savanaclaw again and he actually takes the responsibility seriously, tackling issues and standing his ground with the students and teachers. He wants to set an example for others, making you proud of his actions by raising his standard. When it comes to issues in the school and within his territory, he's calm and diplomatic as he addresses issues – making sure everyone is heard and everyone walks away satisfied. No longer is he plagued by a lack of enthusiasm to make real, significant changes. He now genuinely enjoys himself, striving to go beyond his expectations to overcome his shortcomings, always pushing himself to think outside of the box. It's like the Leona of his past no longer exists, and he doesn't feel any resentment or shame at the thought, simply believing it's for the better that he finally has the strength to make room for a version of himself he can enjoy instead. Because of your guidance and patience with him, he’s slowly learning to no longer fight his introspective nature, instead choosing to work hard every day to embrace all aspects of himself – whether they be negative or positive. Every day is far from perfect, but he's allowing himself the respite of leaning on your shoulder, even though for now, it’s just as a friend and trusted ally, not as a lover. For the first time, he's happy with where his life is going and the person he is becoming. Through this whole experience of falling for you, he learned that there are still things worth fighting for, regardless of if you one day soon reciprocate his feelings or not. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

I was nervous to write this because we all know that canon Leona leaves much to be desired when it comes to his story and the complexities of his character. I've spent over a year of loving him, meticulously crafting who I think he is and who I want him to be. Most days, I'm pretty sure Leona Kingscholar is just a character who exists solely inside of my mind, completely separate from the source material. So, if this resonates with you, I am very glad! Thank you for reading. I hope I was able to bring justice to my beloved Leona! If you would like to see this series with another character, please let me know. 💛 Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar smut #twst leona #twisted wonderland leona x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar angst #my writing

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supercutszns · 4 months

Text

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth.

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying.

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known.

Meet me tomorrow.

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be.

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest.

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces.

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows.

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is.

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off.

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh.

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.”

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed.

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly.

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck.

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare.

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then?

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.”

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you.

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it.

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip.

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz.

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back.

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used.

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it?

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it.

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth.

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom.

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open.

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin.

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince.

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games.

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry.

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees.

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter.

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on.

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling.

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills.

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.”

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday.

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else.

Until he pulls away. Like a dick.

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out.

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him.

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake.

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him.

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie.

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy!

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you.

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges.

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!”

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers.

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night.

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees.

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain.

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms.

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe.

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.”

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel.

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air.

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin.

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.”

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids.

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises.

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake.

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you.

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree.

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real.

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which.

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.”

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever.

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.”

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?”

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side.

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood.

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together.

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway.

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you.

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol.

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you.

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side.

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad.

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away.

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!”

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth.

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?”

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar.

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.”

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing.

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart.

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong.

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply.

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame.

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear.

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one.

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely.

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

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ahundredtimesover · 4 months

Text

I Want You to Stay (04) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count: 11.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii I'm getting slower with editing and writing so please bear with me moving forward! Also pls remember, this is a slow burn haha. But anyway, been loving your replies (I see you) and messages, thank you. I hope you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

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

The events of last weekend remain in your mind, as you approach Jungkook’s apartment the next Monday and feel like your heart will leap out of your chest.

You remind yourself that he wasn’t angry at you; he’d even tried to apologize and didn’t make a fuss when you left the restaurant last Saturday. But still, the whole incident would make anyone feel agitated, and you know his capacity to feel and express that. He was inconvenienced and put on the spot, after all.

You enter, and shortly after, Jungkook exits the gym then greets you with a nod when he sees you. He looks more tired than anything. He doesn’t have a hint of frustration in his eyes, and you could only hope that he’d forgotten about what happened or, like how he is when it comes to personal matters, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it.

You bow in return, sneaking a glance as he walks towards his bedroom, with your throat drying up when he removes his shirt, briefly gracing you with a view of his glistening toned back right before disappearing inside. You wait half a minute before you follow him to prepare his clothes, giving yourself time to breathe before you have to face him again. You return to the kitchen and prepare his breakfast, looking up when you hear him walk in.

You approach him to do an act that’s become a routine for you, and for him as well, as he stands straight and unmoving while you tighten his tie and make sure he looks fine. Even when your fingers only graze his clothed chest, the memory from last Saturday becomes vivid, as you recall wiping his wine-soaked top, feeling the taut body underneath.

You shake your head at the thought, realizing that there are more things about that night that you should not acknowledge at all, including the heat you felt at seeing him in the washroom, a little exposed and definitely sweaty. There was that tension and the dropping of formalities that felt too foreign and quite disorienting. You don’t know him as anything other than the ‘Mr. Jeon’ you assist; seeing him as just ‘Jungkook’ was different. But you suppose that that’s the man you help everyday, and you wonder how much of himself he leaves behind in the office and how much of him now is just… him.

As you go about your routine during breakfast, you’re reminded that for Jungkook, there doesn’t seem to be a difference. How he is at work is the same as how he is elsewhere - serious, quiet, and detached. Except maybe when he’s with those women he meets at clubs, though. Perhaps the thrill and pleasure inject a bit of emotion and passion in him. You wouldn’t know, but at least it’s a way for him to take a break from the responsibilities he carries.

You scold yourself internally again. You’re not supposed to be curious; you’re not supposed to care. So you shake all of them away and remind yourself of who you are and your own distance that you should observe.

You get to your senses and proceed accordingly. You go about as usual in the morning with his meetings, and then he shuts his office so he could focus in the afternoon. You see his furrowed brows from the window, as he works on what seems to be the Arts Center again, given his requests for financial and marketing reports of the company's non-residential projects from the last five years.

You’re busy with organizing his Singapore trip and coordinating with the CEO’s office about the upcoming Appointment Dinner to formally introduce the new appointees, when he exits his room and looks through the folders lined on the shelf behind you.

“Where are the portfolios of our collaboration projects from 2017?” He asks.

“They’re in the archive room,” you answer, standing up to head there.

But he does it first, beating you to the corner area just off the hallway to the left. Your steps are obviously not at pace with his, and he’s tiptoeing to reach for a large folder by the time you get there. He’s able to retrieve it, laying it on the ledge as he goes through some pages.

“I could’ve gotten that,” you say softly, and Jungkook turns to you and wishes he hadn’t, as your pout makes his insides melt.

There’s something about your disappointment that you didn’t get to help him that makes his heart race a little, and while he knows it has everything to do with you thinking that he’d think you’re not doing your job properly, he still likes to keep the thought that you’d wanted to help him in the first place.

“It was heavy,” he explains.

“I’ve carried and pulled and pushed things way heavier than that folder,” you scoff.

“Really?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, trying not to show amusement on his face. “My cousin let you do all those things, huh?”

You frown at his attempt to catch you slipping. “I do many things in the background during events, Mr. Jeon, things that get everything functioning properly while Mr. Jung engages with the guests.”

Jungkook can only imagine how much work you put into getting those events hosted by the VP’s office running. Perhaps retrieving heavy folders is no big deal for you. But still, he doesn’t want to come across as a jerk for making you do something he can do on his own. He already was, he reminds himself, and you also definitely think he is; he doesn’t want to add to that any more, not after everything that’s happened.

So he just nods. “It’s a simple task I can do.”

Jungkook looks at the labeled boxes and folders. He’s got materials and design points to finalize by tonight. There are some more past projects he wants to go through to take inspiration from, and he finds another one he wants to look at, underestimating its weight, which is why he jerks in surprise when he feels how heavy it really is.

You’re there on cue, as if you knew it was gonna be too much. And if he’d asked you, you probably would’ve told him so.

You’re standing much closer to him, your fingers grazing against his as you hold onto the folder. It’s almost familiar, only because you stood this close to him that night at the restaurant, too - when you cleaned him up, and then when you handed him his clothes in the washroom. You actually stand this close to him everyday when you fix his tie. Perhaps after all that, it’s only dawning on you just how little space between you two there are sometimes, and you’re suddenly hyper aware - of the distance, of his scent, of the way he’s looking back at you when you turn to look at him.

“It was heavy,” he admits.

And for some reason, you laugh. Maybe it’s the slightly embarrassed look on his face or it’s just your defense mechanism when you feel tense but you let out an amused sound, with it fading as the time goes by and you realize you’re actually laughing at your boss.

“Making fun of me, Ms. Cho?”

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you stammer, stepping away.

You’re about to mentally curse yourself until you see his slight smirk, and the thought of him making fun at you by scaring you like that makes you feel better. He may have some sense of humor after all.

Still, you bow in apology, and there’s a moment when you meet his eyes, with something not anger or frustration in them, that you both linger, as if there are things both of you feel that need to be said; you just don’t know what they are.

“Did the dry cleaners get to remove the wine stains?” You manage to get some words out, turning away now as you bring up last Saturday night.

“Uh, yeah,” he responds. There’s a pause before he continues. “Did… did you get home okay?”

You’re too stunned to be able to answer right away but you eventually do. “Uh, yeah. Jimin, Soomin, and I just bought food and then went to my apartment. And you?”

“I did,” he nods.

“Did… did Hajoon bother you again after we left?”

“No. Well, he just kept giving me the death stare but he didn’t do anything else,” he says.

“I really don’t know what got him so worked up,” you sigh, feeling bolder at having to share this much. “He’s not usually confrontational and he knows I hate it. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“People have their reasons for getting angry. They’re not always valid, though, and definitely not always warranted,” Jungkook replies, briefly looking away. “Whatever it is, at least he didn’t throw a punch.”

“Oh, if he did, that is it for me,” you chuckle, feeling unfamiliar with being able to talk to Jungkook so casually like this. “Goodbye, job; goodbye, Seoul. I will probably just work as a librarian somewhere.”

Jungkook wants to say he wouldn’t accept your resignation for that reason, that he doesn’t want you to go anywhere, actually. But that’s too much and probably inappropriate to say given the circumstances. So he just hums and turns back to the folder and looks through them.

“I’ll need these back in my room,” he says, carrying one while you take the other.

You appreciate the topic change, knowing you won’t know how to handle more if the conversation deepens. You both walk back quietly, as it dawns on you that the casual nature you both talked to each other is a little disorienting.

You’re not used to him sounding concerned.

He’s not used to you being honest and open.

Perhaps seeing a different side of him isn’t all that bad, you think.

Jungkook wants to believe it’s your way of forgiving him, too, even if he hasn’t actually apologized for anything.

The minute it takes to return to your respective desks ends, and Jungkook is back to focusing on his designs while you get back to making reservations. You peek inside his room every once in a while to check if he’s okay, if there’s anything else he needs, if there’s anything you can do for him.

The frustrated look on his face isn’t new, but the fact that it isn’t directed at you, is. So is the worried feeling you have for him. You’re a mix of emotions from everything that’s happened this past month, so you can’t deny that the way he’s been acting towards you has left you confused, maybe even doubtful. You have to be cautious, you think, and not fall into a comfortable dynamic with him so easily.

The next day, he’s back to being serious once again, as you sit to his right in the restaurant that will be catering the upcoming VP event. Jungkook decided for both of you to have the food tasting for lunch, and so a spread has been prepared for him to make the final decision on the menu.

You’d like to think that you’ve developed quite a sophisticated palate, all thanks to the numerous events that Hoseok asked you to organize in your three years working under him. With this upcoming dinner party a sort of introduction of Jungkook and the project to the art world, he wants to make sure that he serves only the best to the guests, which is why he carefully tastes each dish, trying to determine the best combination that’s both delicious and creative.

You give your comments, some of which he acknowledges, and you feel like you’re both making headway in terms of the menu, as well as with his disposition for the day, given that he’s looking more comfortable and relaxed than he was half an hour ago.

That is, until he sips his wine for the first time, and clears his throat.

“I believe I specifically said that lunch today is a work matter, Ms. Cho,” he says sternly. “You’re on the clock and this isn’t a break.”

“Y—yes, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, curious as to the reason for his statement.

“Then why is your boyfriend waiting outside the restaurant, trying to catch your attention?”

“What?” You exclaim, turning around and spotting Hajoon standing by the lamppost, his sullen eyes getting a bit of light in them once they meet yours. “I… I don’t know,” you respond. “I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”

“How did he know you’re here, then?”

“His restaurant is just up the street,” you sigh. “He must’ve seen me when he was walking there. This area is his usual route. Please just ignore him.”

“I can’t when he’s in my peripheral vision. He’s still the man who got in my face the other night. He clearly wants to speak to you and I don’t think he’ll go away,” Jungkook reasons.

You look at him, waiting for his instructions.

Jungkook doesn’t like that Hajoon is there and he also doesn’t want you to speak with him during work hours, especially if it’s going to affect you for the rest of the day. But the man seems desperate and persistent; he really doesn’t seem like he’ll just let this moment of seeing you pass.

“You have five minutes,” Jungkook says.

You don’t exactly want to go out there; there’s a reason why you haven’t returned Hajoon’s texts or calls these past days. But you can imagine that it’s a worse look for him to be staying around; a distraction during this work matter that you know Jungkook would not appreciate one bit. So you stand up and tell him that you’ll be back shortly.

Jungkook returns to the dish in front of him, noting that the Japanese mushroom risotto is a good addition to the set menu. The event his office is planning includes a sit down dinner and then an offering of canapés and champagne while guests walk around the venue to see the presentation of the Arts Center in large boards and on screens. It will be a good way for him to socialize - something he’s incredibly nervous about because it’s not his strongest suit, nor is it something he enjoys, unlike his cousin. The primary goal, though, is to introduce the project. Jungkook needs important people on board so they can be involved in the launch and the succeeding special activities.

He tries to think about that night and how he wants to design the place. He tries to think of other things, too, like the music and decor, even if he’d said that’s for both of you to plan next week. He’s even thinking of a follow up already, even if his management support team is in charge of that and would be dependent on how this first one is gonna go.

Jungkook tries to think of anything, really, just so he won’t constantly be glancing at you in his periphery, as you talk to the man from the other night and possibly make up. You did leave him at the restaurant last Saturday; you also did clarify that you’re not together. You just said you haven’t spoken since then, so it’s safe to say that both of you aren’t in good terms.

Jungkook can only assume, though. He doesn’t know the story, nor would he ever; he reminds himself he shouldn’t be thinking about it in the first place. He was never one to be privy to his staff’s personal lives; he spent most of his time with Lucas but didn’t know more than his family's composition. Jungkook doesn’t even recall knowing if Lucas had a partner, or if his then-assistant even mentioned it.

But clearly, Hoseok knows more about you than Jungkook would’ve expected. Perhaps it’s just how his cousin is, or maybe the time spent together just created that environment where it’s natural or normal. Maybe it’s the culture that his father encouraged; his old man is quite close with Mr. Ri - his former chauffeur and bodyguard - and Mrs. Myung - his executive assistant, after all.

But it’s not what Jungkook is used to; it’s not how he spent his few years in the Singapore office because like always, all he did was work and party. His mentor in graduate school also advised him that professional lines are ones he shouldn’t cross. Though Jungkook never really knew what exactly those were, he just dared not get close to anyone or be remotely interested at all, and that never caused him any problem. He’s always been safe where he was, guarded and unbothered.

But ever since you walked through those doors at Hoseok’s office that first Friday, Jungkook has been finding himself skirting near the boundaries far too often, and it’s only been a month. It began with making sure you’re eating well and that you’re safe on the way to work; he convinces himself that’s human decency, although he never really bothered much before.

And between wanting you to get proper rest before your trip to your hometown, to seeing you with that man from last weekend and being so bothered by it that it caused a scene, Jungkook’s internal alarm bells are ringing, telling him that he’s getting too interested, too close. It doesn’t help that he finds you attractive, something he doesn’t have control over. What he does have a say in is how he responds to it, and that has been incredibly tough, especially given the weekend he’s had.

He’d spent the rest of it trying to keep his mind off you - the way you looked in that outfit, the way your touch sent shivers down his spine, the way you’d looked at him worriedly… And when you walked out of that restaurant, he wondered what you were thinking, how you were feeling, how you’d be spending the rest of the night, and if you were gonna be home okay. He hasn’t really stopped since.

Even now, as he stays in his seat and tightly grips his glass of wine at the scene unfolding outside.

You’re standing with your arms crossed - setting the boundaries, and perhaps signaling your detachment, though he can’t see your face. The man, on the other hand, seems emotional, the tinge of sadness evident on his face. But there’s a mix of frustration and anger, too, as his arms flail around. He points at you, then at himself. His voice seems raised; Jungkook swears he can see the veins from the man’s neck popping out while you… you’ve got your head turned to the side, your body not eliciting much of the emotion the way the man’s is.

Jungkook stops himself from making an excuse for you to come back inside, just so he can pull you away from a conversation that you don’t seem to be wanting to have. But he knows it’s not his place, and the man might make a scene again if Jungkook decides to step in. You know how to stand up for yourself; you’d done it to him, he reminds himself. You’ll do what you need to do, whatever it is.

The man heaves, as whatever monologue he was giving ends. He reaches out to you, perhaps making a final plea, but you step back, widening the distance. It’s what prompts him to bow his head and turn around, leaving you by the lamppost on your own.

Jungkook sighs in relief now and he waits for you to return, but he’s surprised when you stay rooted in your spot, your arms wrapping around yourself despite the heat outside. He worries when you enter, your head bowed down and unable to look at him.

He wants to ask how you are, but he’s unsure if he’s ready for your answer, knowing that there isn’t much he can do anyway. So he goes with what he knows - detachment.

“I’ve chosen the last two dishes,” he says. “They’re serving the desserts soon.”

You turn to him immediately, your misty eyes painted with worry meeting his own.

“I didn’t think I was away that long,” you state, worried about the time you left your boss waiting while dealing with a personal matter that for the first time made you wish you were stuck with Jungkook instead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon.”

He didn’t expect you to look so upset. He’s terrible at comforting people, but even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t know if he’d manage to comfort you. So he just shrugs and says that they were straightforward dishes.

You both try the desserts then the canapés, exchanging thoughts about all the options before shortlisting your chosen dishes. By the time the food tasting is over, you’re stuffed and set for the rest of the day.

You try not to look at Jungkook. You don’t know if he’d seen how your conversation went with Hajoon, but if he had, he could probably tell what was going on even if he couldn’t hear anything.

He’s had his moments, but you’ve never seen Hajoon look that upset and emotional, and you stood there, afraid to face all his feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, all those words that you didn’t know how to take. You’re usually one who’s able to let negative things said to you just go over your head, but something about what he’d said today hit you; you know it’ll take you until tomorrow to get over them.

But you try to get through the rest of the day the way you usually do - going through reports, organizing schedules, finalizing tomorrow’s presentation, and then working on the revised interdepartmental guidelines that Jungkook tasked you to do.

There are draft letters you send to him, thinking that you’ll work on some administrative matters while he reviews them, but you’re surprised when he calls for you 10 minutes later, saying the letters are approved and you can send them in the morning. You’re left wondering, given that anything you submit to him usually goes through intense scrutiny. Perhaps you’re not used to this easy pass, but you try not to overthink it, given the day you’ve had.

“You can go home, Ms. Cho,” he says as he types away.

It’s 5:30 PM. Usually this time, he’s still handing you things to review or instructing you on what else to do.

He seems to pick up on your silence, as without looking at you, he clarifies. “I don’t need you to do things you can do tomorrow. We’ll have meetings all day so I understand if you want to stay behind but you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t seem like he’ll be finishing soon, and you’re really not in the best mood so you nod and bid him goodbye.

The conversation with Hajoon stays in your mind all night and lasts until the next day. You’re in Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning, preparing his breakfast while he takes a shower.

With your phone snug under your neck, you relay to Soomin what happened yesterday. She was too busy last night for a call and she’s been bugging you since you got in the car - that you continue to ride as per your boss’ instructions - so you finally picked up, knowing how long it usually takes for Jungkook to finish.

“It started with him apologizing, then wondering why I haven’t been picking up his calls, then justifying his actions from last Saturday as him, standing up for me,” you narrate. “Obviously, I didn’t take those too kindly. But he said he wanted to be with me, like, have an actual relationship. And I said I didn’t want to then he just… he kinda just said everything he’s been keeping in.”

“Which is what?” Soomin asks.

“That I’m selfish, that I don’t think about what my actions may mean to others, which is silly since I was clear from the start about what I wanted from him,” you sigh. “He said that I act independent but that’s just a front, that deep down I’m a lonely woman who’ll probably push away every person who’s shown me they care until I have no one left and that’s why I’ll be alone forever, which he says is a deep fear that I have because I apparently told him that when I was drunk. And even after all that, he said he still cares about me, that he wants to try to be something for real this time, that if I just let him, he’ll love me right and make me happy and I just backed away, like, why would you—”

The clearing of the throat cuts you off, and you nearly drop the expensive plate due to panic once you look up and see Jungkook standing by the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry for taking a personal call, Mr. Jeon,” you say immediately, putting away your phone. “It won’t happen again.”

You bow your head down in apology, which is why you don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes soften as he looks at you. Words like that hurt, and he can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like for you hearing them. Still, you went about yesterday with your accomplished tasks and completed deliverables like it didn’t happen, displaying a kind of strength that he could only hope to have.

“Yesterday was a tough, I suppose,” he states, choosing to ignore your apology.

“It was a normal one,” you brush off, walking towards him to fix his tie, not meeting his gaze.

Jungkook doesn’t reply, knowing you don’t want to acknowledge that he’d overheard your conversation, which he didn’t mean to walk in on. It did bother him, too; he suddenly wishes he’d fought back if that man was just going to speak to you that way.

There’s a sadness in your eyes that he tries not to mind and which you try to trivialize. Perhaps the man matters that much to you for you to be feeling this bad; Jungkook doesn’t really know what to do with that thought. So he tries to brush it off, too, telling you instead to be ready for today’s meeting with his father.

You ask if he’s checked the presentation you worked on, as you added things from the last time. He nods and says he only added minimal details that he came up with last night, and you check to find that he indeed just made minute changes, another thing that you’re thankful for yet wary of, especially given how critical he was about your work in the beginning.

You continue with your morning routine of debriefing about yesterday’s meetings, then you finalize the Arts Center event’s menu in the car. When you arrive at the office, you wait patiently as he goes through some reports that you’ve checked, then he reviews some memos that he asked you to work on.

The last one finishes faster than you expected. It seems now that his comments are what you look for, only because it reminds you that he hasn’t changed; somehow that seems like a better thought to have than him suddenly being lenient or lowering his standards for you for some unknown reason. He’s definitely witnessed some of your low moments; you don’t want to think those have anything to do with how he’s been lately.

The meeting with the management support team ends before lunch time, and you work on the minutes and the other things Jungkook had asked of you during the time that he meets with Yoongi in his office. That takes another half hour, and by the time they’re done, you’re done with your tasks, too, so you send those documents to Jungkook for checking in the afternoon.

Another one off the list, you think to yourself. At this point, you’re just going over all your deliverables with a focused mindset and waiting for the day’s end so you can spend time for yourself, just on the couch watching variety shows and movies until the weekend comes when you can do that for longer hours.

Having your friends over or traveling to Daegu are the only other things you look forward to. You used to look forward to spending the night at Hajoon’s, too; you could at least feel something pleasurable - the closest you could get to any form of intimacy that didn’t require you to bare yourself other than your body. But that’s a thing of the past now - there’s that amazing life-changing toy that Soomin got you last Sunday that’s got you thinking that you’ll be fine being alone for the rest of your life.

“Long day, huh?”

You look up and see Yoongi, his curious eyes scanning your desk full of papers, folders, and half-eaten biscuits.

“It has been,” you sigh.

“I see. It’s also only just 12 noon,” he points out.

“What a shocking revelation, Min Yoongi,” you grunt. “I don’t need to be reminded that I have another six hours here.”

“Hmm, just like me. So, what are you looking forward to when you clock out?”

“My leftover stir-fry for dinner that I’m going to add beef to,” you respond. “And The Zone. I missed it last Monday.”

“You and your variety shows,” he chuckles.

“What other reason do I have to laugh, hmm?”

“I’d say me, but you don’t find me funny.”

“You aren’t, sorry,” you smile, your first of the day, and Yoongi smiles back, knowing you haven’t been doing it the past few weeks.

“So–”

“Ms. Cho,” Jungkook’s voice cuts Yoongi off, as your boss stands by his open door with curious eyes that flit from you to the man in front of you. He recovers though, as he instructs, “the minutes are fine. Send it to the team now so they can work on their tasks.”

“You’ve read it?” You speak too soon, realizing a second too late that the words didn’t stay in your head. Your widened eyes don’t help you though, as Jungkook scowls at you.

“Are you asking me if I’ve read the file that I just approved and instructed you to disseminate?”

Yoongi purses his lips to hold off a laugh, and you glare at him because his teasing isn’t really what you need right now.

“I meant, uh, you’ve reviewed it already, sir? I… thought… you were going to prepare for the lunch meeting instead,” you reason, which isn’t even a lie.

“I have. Father hasn’t called me up so I just reviewed the minutes while waiting.”

You look at the file and see that nothing has been added. “And? That’s it?”

“Ms. Cho, are you questioning my ability to review?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to look displeased, although they seem harmless compared to his frustrated expressions from the past.

“No, Mr. Jeon, I apologize,” you say. “I was wondering if you didn’t have anything more to add, that’s all.”

“There’s none,” he clarifies. “Just send it to the team and uh… get ready for the meeting.”

He glances at Yoongi before closing the door.

“Questioning your boss’ ability to review now, huh?” Yoongi teases.

“Shut up. He’s just been weird,” you pout.

“That’s new. How so?”

“He hasn’t been an asshole for a few days.”

“Well, that’s quite the standard but I get you, I guess,” Yoongi hums. “In what way has he been out of character?”

“He just… hasn’t been pointing things out and correcting my submissions or asking a lot of questions about the reports I review,” you say. “Or just… you know, he hasn’t been him. He makes Mr. Ri pick me up every morning, he doesn’t email on the weekend, I get to leave on time, I get to eat properly…”

“In short, he’s been a decent boss recently?”

“I guess… I mean, it’s been two weeks since my mishap. He’s been quite tolerable these past few days. Maybe he hit his head and some loose screws tightened. Maybe he had a bad dream and the ghost of the future me visited him. Maybe he had a change of heart… though that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he–”

“Realized he hasn’t been good to you and doesn’t want you to go through the horror of another Mrs. Byun,” Yoongi interjects.

Your curious eyes prompt him to continue. “We had a meeting the other day and I saw a folder on his desk with her name on it. Formal complaints are only available in physical copies; other personnel files are stored in the server, so the only documents he’d have of her are the ones of her investigation. And he’d only be interested in that because of you. Those include your written statements.”

“As do you yours,” you point out.

“Yes, he’d totally be interested in how his design lead witnessed a manager’s abuse of power three years ago,” Yoongi sarcastically says.

You sigh to yourself. You’ve never told Jungkook about your experience with Mrs. Byun, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok or even Yoongi has mentioned it to him. It’s an experience you don’t like to think about; you were a young woman who had everything to prove, who had a lot to lose, and conceding to someone taking advantage of you seemed like the only way to survive. Not once did you put your foot down, and not once did you stand up for yourself. You experienced all those then went home to an empty house and found comfort in your own warmth and your own breathing.

You don’t want that experience to determine how others would treat you after. Hoseok was all things gentle and warm and you know that whatever you went through wouldn’t have determined how he treated you.

But Jungkook… Jungkook is different. This isn’t his default state. This isn’t how he normally is. This isn’t how you started. The last thing you want is for him to feel pity for all that you went through - in the past and recently - and then treat you differently because of it. He’s been less critical, less judgmental, and less doubtful of your capabilities. You only wish it isn’t for anything that he’d read or seen you experience.

“I doubt it,” you shake your head. “A man that perpetually displeased doesn’t just decide one day that he’d give the bare minimum of decency to his assistant.”

“Look, ___. Jungkook is a lot of things. He has a lot of feelings that he doesn’t want to deal with, and a lot of emotions he doesn’t know how to express,” Yoongi tries to explain. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if I didn’t believe there’s an ounce of goodness in him. And there is. Maybe him showing it just isn't good timing. He’s terrible at that, too. In fact, he’s terrible at a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. It doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of kindness.”

“Kindness,” you huff. That’s quite a reach, but Yoongi’s always been a good judge of character. You do want to believe what he says about Jungkook; it’s just not an easy switch to flip. “I’m just trying not to care much at this point,” you sigh. “I come to work, focus on my tasks, do whatever I’m asked, go back home, rinse and repeat.”

“Is it satisfying, though?”

“When was work ever satisfying, Yoongi?” You laugh bitterly.

“Well, I could at least recall seeing you enjoy organizing those events for Hoseok and even joining him in some,” Yoongi points out. “I… I saw you smile a lot. There was a bit of satisfaction there, yeah?”

“Somehow, I guess. But I just had to make do. Hoseok was great, but this is also my job, really the only thing going for me.”

“What are you working towards, then?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe at 30 I should know but I really don’t.”

“Then why are you still here?” He asks, softly, desperately. “Why do you stay?”

“And find out who I am outside of all this?” You wonder out loud. “What if I don’t like her? What if she isn’t good?”

“Then this place hasn’t been good for you if you doubt who you are outside of what you’ve done here,” Yoongi says. “You’re just 30; there’s a whole world out there where you can learn who you are and be someone you actually like. I don’t know what’s stopping you.”

A lot of things, you think to yourself. But when you find comfort in discomfort, when you find security in chaos, and when you find companionship in loneliness, it’s not that easy to leave all this behind, even if deep down, you know it’s what you have to do.

“I don’t know, too,” you lie. “Maybe I’ll find a good enough reason one day and that would be it; I’ll be out of here and then I can find out if I like myself outside of everything I know.”

“I think you would.”

I did, Yoongi thinks to himself. He knows you’d laugh and agree; he’s moved on from you and things can’t be any better than how your friendship is right now, but he also knows you’re not the best at feelings, a similarity he realizes you have with the person you supposedly dislike.

“I won’t know until then, I guess. So I just gotta bear with who I am now,” you say.

There’s so much of you that Yoongi doesn’t know. It’s why he wanted to, why he asked you out for coffee and why he felt a bit of a heartbreak when you turned him down. But there are parts of you that he does know, that you let him see, and sometimes he finds himself wishing you’d find someone you’d feel safe enough with to share everything else you keep to yourself.

He keeps these things to himself, too. He’s learned that the only way to keep you close is to keep his distance; you’ll reach out if you need to, even if it’s something you rarely do. But what’s important is that he’ll be there just in case; what matters is you know that there’s a hand available when you need it.

So he just nods and takes your word for it. You’ll find yourself somehow, in whatever way you will. And you’ll find a reason to leave, whenever that is. He could only hope it’s a decision you’d make on your own, one that you won’t regret, and one that’ll lead you to find whatever it is that you’re looking for.

“So what, they want to put a stop to the Arts Center? They’re not the ones working hard for it. And quite frankly, I don’t need their help in any way to make it happen.”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, anger manifesting in the way he clenches his jaw and groans repeatedly. It’s a sight you’re familiar with by now, and for the first time, you feel for him. It feels as if with this project, he doesn’t seem to have anyone on his side, aside from Hoseok, who’s been encouraging and helpful in many ways.

“They don’t want to stop it, son,” CEO Jeon says. “They’re merely questioning some of your decisions about the prices you’ve set out.”

“In short, they’re undermining me,” Jungkook groans. “This is my project. We’ve done the necessary research. If they read the report, they’d know. But clearly, they just want reasons to doubt all this, to doubt me.”

“It’s just the first project of its kind,” his father reasons. “The arts institution from 2017 was a collaboration and it wasn’t this big. The Arts Center just isn’t the usual commercial establishment that the VP office undertakes. The Board just wants to be clear about the profits because it’s not as straightforward as the others. They want to know how the property will earn.”

“Exhibition entrance tickets, bookings, rent,” Jungkook replies. “What’s not straightforward about that? Might as well say they don’t understand or even value arts and culture because that makes money, and if done right and respectfully, it can make a lot of money. I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not like I didn’t make those points, son. It’s your first big project. I think they just—”

“Don’t believe I can manage it on my own.”

“They don’t think you can make the necessary connections on your own,” CEO Jeon finally says. “We all know how important that is. They doubt you’d be able to forge good relationships with professionals in an industry we don’t really have strong connections to. And with a project this big, it’s the company’s resources and reputation on the line.”

There’s silence in the room, as Jungkook seems to process the core issue that the Board has with him. You can tell it’s affecting him so much, as the anger in his eyes slowly turns into resignation.

It’s no secret that Jungkook’s way of engaging with others leaves a lot to be desired. From what you can see, he’s used to thinking more, envisioning, planning - the concepts and designs are amazing in his head and there are others tasked to sell that idea, to make it connect with people, to express why it matters, and to make sure it earns. That’s what Hoseok is good at; Jungkook never seemed like the type who enjoys that aspect of the work.

“You should’ve thought about my outstanding interpersonal skills before appointing me as Vice President, then,” he says bitterly. “Clearly that’s what the Board and everyone else value more than anything.”

“Hey, Kook. We know you’re good for this role,” Hoseok comforts. “And we believe in your project, we really do. Just focus on that. Make sure you’re constantly adjusting and refining the plans, and remind the Board that your ideas are even better when they’ve come to life. You’ve done it with your other projects before. Eventually you’ll be able to show them that you’re more than capable of forging relationships, too. That’ll come naturally. But in the meantime, you just have to give them something to make them believe it’ll be good for the company and our image in the long-run. Make them envision it.”

“I have,” Jungkook argues. “And I’ll keep doing that. I just need father to be on my side. I just need him to back me up, to trust me and every single one of my decisions.”

You’ve never heard desperation in Jungkook’s voice until today and you’re surprised with how much it’s affecting you, not just because you know how much effort he’s put into conceptualizing the place but because you’ve come to believe in it, too.

“Ms. Cho.”

CEO Jeon’s voice pulls you away from Jungkook, and you turn to the older man and ask if there’s anything he needs.

“Your thoughts,” he responds. “What would the Arts Center mean for the company? Do you think it will yield profits?”

They’re not questions that are new to you. Hoseok would often ask you these things about the smaller projects that go through him. CEO Jeon has asked you the same things in informal situations before, not so much to gain new insight - although he claims that your thoughts are interesting to him - but to gauge your belief in the project. He has a good read on people; you’ve observed him ask questions and pick apart not what they said but how they said it. You suppose that’s what he’s doing now, too.

“You’ve mentioned a few times that you want to expand the company’s market, Mr. Jeon,” you start. “And if I remember correctly, the Board agreed. Efforts to cater to expats and the middle class have been successful, but perhaps another type of expansion is in engaging the field of the arts and culture and its creators and consumers. More people from all walks of life and all over the world are gaining interest in Korean art and culture in all forms and the company has the resources to create a space for it. Like what the Vice President said, there’s an opportunity to earn from it while, of course, respecting it.”

You see CEO Jeon and Hoseok nod, a sight you’ve seen before as well. But Jungkook looks at you with curiosity, with a look of anticipation, as if he’s hanging onto every word you’re saying.

“The Arts Center was conceptualized and designed to be a hub for all things creative,” you continue. “Making general admission free makes the arts accessible to people, and once that appreciation grows, they’ll pay to see it, to experience it. Just go to any online forum and you’ll see that the public wants to experience art, not just observe it. They’d travel for it. The Center has spaces for that. I think that’s the ultimate goal - for anyone to be immersed in it. And that can happen through art pieces in a gallery or in a garden, through books, music, or spoken poetry, or even a photoshoot. Patrons can book rooms for private events, they can buy from the gift shop, they can do art themselves. It’s like a canvas and they can take part in creating meaning for the space. That’s what we’re selling. And that’s something people are willing to buy.”

“I see your point, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says, nodding satisfyingly at you. “And it’s a good one.”

“It’s what Mr. Jeon has been saying all this time,” you counter. “It’s easy to understand and to buy into the idea… if only the Board would listen to him. If only they’d open their mind to what he envisions.”

“Well, that’s one way to get through to them, then,” Hoseok voices out. “Invite them to the arts event, treat them like creators and consumers, not as Board members.”

“That’s a good idea,” CEO Jeon says. “Maybe then they can see how you engage with the guests, which I hope you’re working on. And while you’re at it, work on your relationship with them, too. That means initiating conversations, seeking them out… It's part of the job, son. The Board are our stakeholders, too, you know this.”

“Aren’t some of them based in Japan and Singapore?” You wonder aloud, hinting at another suggestion that you want would come from Jungkook himself, given his scheduled plans to fly there.

“Yeah. Maybe I can meet them the next time I go,” he says, picking up on your thoughts.

Jungkook isn’t really fond of engaging with them. He always just left the socializing part to his uncle who used to head the Southeast Asian office. When Jungkook would be in Seoul, he let his father, Hoseok, and Ji-woo deal with them, with nothing but an acknowledgment on his end. He tends to stay at the bar on his own just to drown out the sounds. Yoongi sometimes joins him but most times, Jungkook finds himself alone even during such events; being with a lot of people is tiring, lonesome, isolating. With this new role, he’s started to accept that he has to do more. It doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it though.

“I’ll have that arranged for you,” you tell him.

“Well then, that’s one way to revamp your image,” the older man smiles. “You just have to keep that up moving forward. That’s why Ms. Cho is there. She’s used to these events and these engagements with them. You’ll be fine.”

You give a reassuring smile to Jungkook - a genuine one, as you see it’s what he needs, given all that you learned from today’s meeting. He merely nods, and you think that should be enough of an acknowledgment from his end.

Hoseok wraps it up, going through a few policy-related items and then reminding the other men about upcoming social gatherings that they all need to attend. He asks to briefly speak with Jungkook, whom he pulls aside, while the elder Mr. Jeon approaches you.

“Thank you for standing by Jungkook, Ms. Cho, especially since I haven’t been able to show my support the way I want to,” he says. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It hasn’t, but he made me believe in his vision for the Center,” you respond. “I’m starting to see what he sees. And it’s quite beautiful.”

Jungkook overhears the exchange, as he zoned out on Hoseok once he heard his father address you.

It’s something that his cousin picks up, as he repeats what he just said, totally unbothered by it.

Hoseok, of all people, knows how important it is that you have Jungkook’s back. He also knows how difficult that must be for you, given how the man has been towards you all these weeks.

But you’re unwavering. You’re able to withstand the challenges, and while Hoseok knows that you do have a tendency to also allow yourself to suffer through it, he also knows you’ve learned, and you’ll stand your ground if you need to; he’ll back you up, and he can only hope you know that.

You all exit the private room of the restaurant and head back to the office across the street. It’s 4PM by the time you return to your desk, given that Jungkook called for a meeting with the management support team after what transpired during lunch.

You immediately work on the minutes and action points, finishing two hours later and then deciding that you’ll work on your next deliverable tomorrow.

Jungkook exits his room, informing you that he’ll be leaving for an early dinner with Hoseok at a nearby restaurant, and that Mr. Ri can drop you off at your place. You’ve contested the service that was offered to you, and you and Jungkook settled on a compromise that you can go home on your own except for late nights.

“Mr. Ri will just be waiting for me anyway. No harm in driving you home tonight,” Jungkook says, knowing you were about to turn down the offer.

“Okay, sir,” you reply.

You do last minute things and pack up immediately to go home, taking this chance to get proper rest because you know the last two days of the week are going to be tiring.

The next day, Jungkook does conference calls and closed-door meetings, leaving you to do summary reports and other administrative backlogs that have your eyebrows scrunched the entire day. If it wasn’t for Do-hyun reminding you about lunch that you promised to have with her, you would’ve totally forgotten.

You’re in the zone as you go through the afternoon - two meetings straight that have Jungkook rubbing his temples constantly and you doing the same. But you pop in some aspirin and ginseng jelly next to his cup of tea, feeling satisfied when he takes them.

You go home on time, not wanting to be offered a ride for a consecutive night, and you get proper rest to face the final day of the week.

It’s all going well, as you find a rhythm early on as you work on your deliverables while Jungkook remains focused on his own tasks. You’re the one who reminds him now to eat his lunch, and seeing the blueprints sprawled on his desk, you offer to buy him one yourself.

He nods in appreciation as you state his usual order for confirmation, and you eat your sandwich while waiting for his curry rice bowl in the food hall. You get back to your tasks, thankful for the unusually quiet and uneventful Friday.

You see now how hyper focused Jungkook could get. He’s got his blinds closed but you can tell that he’s immersed in his designs and proposals and plans. He’s not allowing calls or visitors, and he only rings you to ask for coffee, which you’ve given him four times so far. Towards the end of the day, you’re the one who asks to go in, informing him that the Board meeting has been moved to a week earlier than scheduled; it’s two Fridays from now, which means his team has to finalize everything soon.

It’s his first one since becoming Vice President, and given how he used to question you, you’re surprised when he asks your proposed timeline to prepare for the meeting.

“Manager Lee is already consolidating all the departmental reports,” you respond. “You can instruct him to finalize the VP report with all those by Wednesday; the presentation can be due on Friday so you can go through all of them. We can submit the report for CEO review the Monday after that and then you can prepare for your run through until the meeting.”

“Sounds good,” he replies. “I’ll send them an email with the instructions shortly.”

“Noted, sir,” you say. “I’ve also submitted the minutes of the past two days’ meetings as well as the policy guidelines you asked for.”

“Oh, right,” he says, taking his iPad. “I’ve looked through them. The minutes are good; you can disseminate them accordingly. I’ve highlighted the parts for the condensed version you’ll send to the CEO and the President. I also have minimal corrections and remarks on the policy guidelines and I’ve edited them directly on the file. Just proofread again and then affix my signature once you’ve finished.”

“Y—you’re done?” You ask. You hope he doesn’t pick up the shock in your voice.

“Yes, and I’ve read them. Thoroughly,” he answers.

You smile in embarrassment after the other day.

“Does that bother you?” He follows up.

“N-no, sir,” you say, knowing he’s waiting for an answer. “I guess I was expecting you to take longer because, you know, more comments. And you’ve been busy all day, too.”

“More comments… Is that what you’re expecting?”

“Sort of,” you admit. “I mean… you made a lot of them before.”

You pout in reflex as you realize how you sound. You’re basically pointing out how critical he used to be, and if you’re being honest, you do wish he still was. At least that tells you that he’s still the same, that no knowledge of your past experience with your former boss has made him change his disposition towards you.

Jungkook sees your pout, and he crosses his arms and legs to keep himself from doing something as stupid as wiping it off you. It’s a little disarming for him, if he’s being honest.

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” you clarify.

Liar, you think to yourself.

“Well, if I used to do it a lot and I still do that after a month in, wouldn’t it reflect poorly on you and me if you still haven’t learned from all that?” He asks.

You think about it and eventually nod. He does have a point.

“You’ve adapted. I’d be worried if you continued to do things the way you used to,” he adds.

You nod again, taking in all his words. Much as you appreciate them, there’s another thought still bugging you.

“May I be honest, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, your heart beating fast now as he looks at you curiously.

He nods anyway and asks you to continue.

“I don’t think you’d lower your standards or anything when it comes to my work,” you start. “So I don’t want to believe that you pity me just because you know what I experienced in the past.”

He looks at you questioningly, as if to ask what you’re talking about.

“I spotted Mrs. Byun’s files on your table,” you lie. “I assume you’ve read about how she treated me. And I… I don’t want to be pitied, Mr. Jeon. If it’s that, please don’t. Please don’t let it affect how you’d treat me. It wasn’t even that bad—”

“It was,” he interjects. “This company doesn’t tolerate people who abuse their power. I only knew about your case because I’m thorough with my work. And that includes looking into my staff and their past. I did it for everyone,” he lies as well.

Hoseok and Yoongi had mentioned something about a past experience and Jungkook did dig deep. It was so he could help you professionally, he convinced himself.

“You should also know that I don’t make compromises when it comes to the quality of work of my staff and that means I don’t pity people if they fail to meet my standards. But I suppose you think that I do because of how I was in the beginning,” he continues, surprising you. “I admit I was being too critical. And I don’t have an excuse, just that I absolutely hate change. I’m not good at managing it and I reacted in a way that I’m used to, which is not a good way at all. I know now that I was not fair to you.”

The apology doesn’t come, but you know that the admission means enough already. It’s definitely taken a huge burden off of you. You didn’t dream up all those incidents and it wasn’t entirely on you. That itself gives you relief.

“My father and cousin were right. You’re a fast learner. You pick up on the comments, work on them immediately, and adjust accordingly. It’s a good trait to have, Ms. Cho.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Jeon.”

“May I be honest, too?” He asks, surprising you again.

You nod, anticipating what he’d say, knowing he’s never been this quiet nor looked this nervous in all these weeks you’ve known him.

“What you said to my father about the Arts Center the other day, I appreciate that, too,” he says. “I guess you could’ve said something general or basic but you didn’t.”

“Your father wouldn’t have minded what I said,” you reply. “What mattered was how I said it. I guess as the person who’s privy to a lot of things about the project, he sincerely wanted to know what I thought about it, if I genuinely believed in it.”

“Well, it was a good way to convince him. And it seemed like he believed you.”

“I’m not a good actor, Mr. Jeon,” you chuckle. “He believed it because I meant it. And he saw that I was on your side. As I should. I still meant it, though.”

“That’s… encouraging,” he huffs. “At least one person is.”

“I’m sure he does, too.”

“It’s ironic that people like Mr. Ri think that my father and I are so alike, yet we don’t see eye to eye most of the time.”

“It’s because you are alike. You both think you’re right all the time,” you joke, teetering on the edge and sighing in relief when he laughs, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard.

“You make a good point,” he smiles a tiny bit, something you also don’t think you’ve ever seen him do. “But I’m still adjusting to working directly with him, and in a bigger role, too. We'll probably butt heads a lot.”

“You will. I already know it. In fact, I can already see it,” you laugh again.

It’s a moment you share with him that you didn’t imagine you ever would. He’s being honest about his concerns and you’re giving comfort in the way you know how and neither of you seems to mind.

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help, Ms. Cho,” he says so softly, his eyes turning away from you. “I’m gonna need your assistance. Not just in seeing the Arts Center through but in everything - navigating this role, dealing with my father, dealing with people. I… I know what I’m good at. So I don’t really focus on the things I don’t do well in but this position forces me to confront those and I… I’ll need help.”

For someone who doesn’t seem to like being vulnerable in front of others, seeing this side of Jungkook makes you sympathetic. The soft tone of his voice, the lack of eye contact, the crossed arms… they’re familiar because it’s how you are, and you know it’s difficult to be this honest with another person, especially when it’s about what you need.

More than wanting to help him because it’s your job, you find yourself wanting to see him succeed, too, to see him manage it all. That way, when you do eventually leave the company and search whatever it is you’re looking for, you can rest easy knowing that he’ll be okay, that the team will be okay, that the Arts Center will be all that he imagined it to be.

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I’ll do my best to provide you with the assistance you need.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say those words with such sincerity to you, too.

You bow in acknowledgement and head out, leaving Jungkook in a haze, as he realizes that in your presence, he’d done what he's been trying to avoid ever since you walked in his life - be honest. He’d told you his concerns, his needs, and it seems that his honesty is something you appreciated as well. There was that acceptance that he wouldn’t have expected from you, not because you aren’t the type to give it but because he hasn’t given you a reason to. But you gave it regardless; you let him feel that it was okay.

It’s another half hour before he’s packing up to head home. It’s been a tiring week and he just wants to have a long bath, watch sports, and drink a cold beer over grilled meat. He’ll probably get some work done but maybe he’ll drive to some resort out of town, have a good workout, get in a sauna, and have a massage. He’ll have a nice meal with his friends and then go to a club. Or maybe he’ll just stay in. There’s something about being honest that makes him want to keep to himself for a while. He’ll start with that tonight, as he turns down Taehyung’s invite to another one of his client’s party.

Jungkook walks out and sees your desk empty, but he does hear your voice coming from the management support team’s room, telling them about your weekend plans as well.

“I’m going to the film festival in Incheon,” you say. “And probably just stay at a hostel.”

“Are you going by yourself?” Do-hyun asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply.

Hajoon was supposed to go with you. He invited himself, actually, and you should’ve read into the fact that he’d wanted to experience your interests with you. You hadn’t minded, and that’s clearly out of the picture now.

“I usually go to them by myself,” you add.

“Well, if you decide you want to invite one of us or hang out, you can always let us know,” Chin-sun teases, knowing you probably won’t.

“Let’s wait until we’re not too tired and busy, okay?” You chuckle. “That way, we can afford to do whatever we want on the weekends.”

“Yup, that’ll probably never happen,” Do-hyun pouts. “When are we not tired and busy? It’s probably worse this time because we don’t get to laugh and joke around like we used to. Are we even getting a holiday? Will we have an out-of-town team building? Or dinners and karaoke like how Mr. Jung used to treat us to?”

“The team-building is budgeted so yes, we’ll have it,” you tell them. “And dinners? I can maybe suggest that to Mr. Jeon. And come on, no one’s stopping you from laughing or joking around. You can still do all that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to because it might seem like I’m not serious about my job because our boss is too serious and it doesn’t seem right,” Do-hyun whines.

And for the first time, you feel genuinely bad for how they think about Jungkook. You don’t blame them though, but the man you saw earlier who broke into a small smile is definitely capable of laughter; you just don’t know how to elicit it from him again.

“He’s just been under a lot of pressure, but he doesn’t prohibit you from finding joy in anything,” you say. “Just… give him some time, okay? He’ll come around. Let’s just focus on our work and then focus on ourselves when the weekend comes. So all of you, pack up now and go home to your families and your pets. We’ve got a long few weeks ahead.”

Jungkook hears a collective okay then heads out right away, the initial thought of saying goodbye to the team having dissipated. He can’t blame them for voicing out their frustrations over the change in how they’re being managed. Hoseok was loved. He built a competent team whose spirit Jungkook is afraid he’s now breaking. But he’s not like his cousin, and he doesn’t know how to reach out to them in a way that’s genuine. He let the pressure get to him too much early on and while he’s not the type to forge connections with his staff, he’s seeing now how important it is for him as Vice President to do that.

But it’s too much to think about for today. He’ll let this affect him a little bit and then figure things out. Based on what he heard though, he’s not on his own. You were on his side again, even when you thought he wasn’t around. There’s something about the way you stand up to him and stand by him that’s refreshing. There’s honesty there, too, and he’s learning that it’s what he needs.

He makes it to the elevator but then holds the door once he hears rapid footsteps. You mutter your thanks as you enter, and he feels the tension build as you’re together after the exchange earlier. He hasn’t gotten over that yet, so he’s unsure how to talk with you.

It seems like so are you, as you drum your fingers on the strap of your bag and focus on the door while you both wait to make it to the ground floor. Jungkook is tempted to offer you a ride with him but he decides against it. Even then, he slows his steps so he could walk alongside you, as you both head out the main doors.

“Get some rest, Mr. Jeon,” you finally say. “And have a good weekend.”

You look at him with sincerity in your eyes, your smile soft and assuring, something he’s never seen you direct at him before. It’s even different from earlier. There’s more understanding, he thinks. Perhaps there’s care.

“You, too, Ms. Cho,” he replies before entering the car. “Get home safely.”

You bow to him and wave at Mr. Ri before walking down the pathway to the street that leads towards the bus stop.

Jungkook lets himself be comfortable in the seat while he forces the image of your smile out of his head. The sun has set and it’s Seoul at its busiest on another hot Friday evening. There are more cars than usual and so movement is slow, but that’s how he sees you - walking down the sidewalk in the midst of all these people. And there you are, somehow looking at peace. There’s an air of isolation that surrounds you, but you don’t look lonely. Just… alone. There’s still that warmth in your eyes and your smile that he finds himself wanting to see more of.

This is when he realizes he might be in trouble. There’s a line he shouldn’t cross, but there’s this desire to get to know you, to know your thoughts and your feelings and your words. He reminds himself that he needs you, in a way that an authority figure needs support and assistance. He needs you to be focused and capable, and he needs to be the same.

With his attraction that he can’t get over, he knows that the only way to make sure that he keeps things professional is to keep his distance - not just physically, but more so emotionally. You’ll definitely be spending more time together and he needs to constantly remind himself of who you are and who he is. That much as he feels safe and honest with you, he can’t go any further; he can’t let you get any closer. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but that’s one other thing he’ll figure out.

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