#but please at least consider the alternative | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zyafics · 4 days

Text

play fake | part eight

series play fake — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

Laid out on the edge of a heavenly bed, a rustling stirs you awake.

You blink through the thinly-streamed sunlight casting into the room and adjust your vision, trying to decipher where you are.

Rafe stands in front of his closet, shirtless, searching through to find something to wear. When you lift your head off the pillow, groggy sounds escaping your lips, he turns his head.

"Shit, did I wake you?" He asks, brows furrowed together.

"Are you going somewhere?" You respond, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. "Should I go home?"

Last night, after you accepted Rafe's invitation to stay over at Tannyhill, you didn't do anything other than shower, take a Plan B, and go to sleep. It was a long day and when Rafe shuffled into his sheets, you pulled yourself to the ledge of the mattress. It wasn't done out of separation, but because of an unusual habit you developed as the sole provider for your sisters. You always stay close enough to the edge that, if any problems arise in the middle of the night, you have the fastest exit.

Rafe shakes his head, rounding the bed to approach your side. He can't believe how pretty you are, even just waking up, fresh-faced with no makeup. His chest buzzes with an indescribable feeling.

"It's fine," he declares. "I'm about to head out to brunch with my dad. We have to talk through some things that happened last night."

You don't miss the grimace in his tone.

Frowning, you offer, "do you want me to come?"

Honestly, Rafe would love that. Having you by his side while he’s conversing with his father would ground him. Because he knows, if Ward Cameron sees him as incompetent and expandable, at least with you, he isn’t.

"You have nothing to wear."

You glance down at your sleepwear, a borrowed shirt from Rafe's closet that cuts mid-thigh, and realize he's right. It wasn't like you packed an overnight bag and your only options are to reuse the gown from last night or your bartender work attire.

There is Sarah's closet but after Rafe's whole conflict with his sister returning, you'd rather not put it on the table.

"Right." You drawl, pressing your lips together while you consider alternatives. "You could drop me off at my house. I can change."

He shakes his head, concealing a rising smile at your determination to attend. "Not enough time."

"What time is it?"

"A quarter after eleven. I have to meet him there by noon."

He's right. The drive to The Cut is going to take most of that time.

"I'll be fine." Rafe declares. "I've handled him for the past twenty-three years. I can handle a few hours."

You nod, saying nothing. What could you say? You're taking Rafe's words at face value and if he believes he can go into this meeting without having another destructive conversation, then you can only believe him.

"I should go then." You throw the comforter off your body, the coldness of the morning breeze sends a shiver down your spine. Your legs drape off the ledge. "Since you won't be here."

"No." Rafe asserts suddenly, causing you to stop in your tracks. "I'll be back. Just hang out here."

He doesn't want you to leave. Whatever conversation he'll have with his father, it would either settle on a concession or a bad ending. Rafe already mentally prepared the layout of his day and he knows he'll need you after. To talk. To comfort. To be here with him.

"Alone?" You confirm, the idea is scandalous to your ears. "In your mansion? Aren't you afraid I'm going to steal something of yours?"

You're playing into Pogue stereotypes, testing if Rafe trusts you enough.

"You wouldn't." He shakes his head with confidence and you still don't have your answer.

“You don’t know that.” You challenge with a tease. “I saw some things downstairs I would like to take home. If I just swipe them when you leave…” Your voice trails off when Rafe settles in front of you, both arms pressed on either side of your hips and he levels down his face to be inches away from yours.

"I could just buy them for you."

Your heart sputters. You stare back at him, admiring his freshly-clean look with a faint scent of aftershave. He looks handsome. His blue eyes set on you, captivating and waiting. For a brief moment, you could see yourself letting him in.

You expel an awkward laugh. ‘Yeah, right,” you hit his shoulders, trying to create some distance between the two of you, but it doesn’t work. The touch only further the buzz within you, stirring something from the pit of your stomach. “Like I would let you.”

"But you'd rather steal?"

You shrug, needing to look away, pretending to admire a thread you found on his sheets. "What did I tell you that day in Topper's house?"

He hazily recounts the details. The night when you came and propositioned him. Where he got into a fight with a stranger for harassing you. Where you patched him up.

"I only remember you on my lap."

You scoff, turning back to him. "Of course you would."

You make a move to stand, but Rafe lays a hand on your hips, keeping you in place.

"What?" You ask breathlessly, despite the limited movement.

“You promised you were going to ride me.” He recalls lowly, pushing the fabric of his tee up your thighs and creating goosebumps in its wake. “You don’t have makeup on.”

Shaky breaths leave you, trying to remain in control. But you know you’re losing it with every light caress Rafe is giving you, igniting the heat between your legs. “Are you always this horny in the morning?”

"Just for you, sweetheart."

Your mind is warping and you fumble for excuses.

"I have morning breath."

"We don't have to kiss."

"You have a meeting in less than an hour."

"We'll be quick."

With a huff, you retort. "Do you always have an answer for everything I say?"

He chuckles. "I know you now."

You're afraid he truly does.

Your lips part when his hand cups the underside of your jaw, tilting your gaze to meet his. His eyes scans over your features, reading how willing you are, and mumbles. "That's my girl."

Your skin buzzes with his praise, and Rafe goes to remove your shirt—his shirt that you’re wearing, the sight of which drives him insane—and exposing your bare tits and panties underneath. No matter how many times he sees you naked, it amazes him every time. That it’s him that gets to see you this way. That it’s him who gets to touch you.

"Fuck." He whispers, sinking to his knees as his hands spread your legs apart. He wants nothing more than to sink in you, but he wants to please you first. Lowering, Rafe kisses the base of your knee to your inner thighs. "You're so fucking gorgeous."

It's things like this that make your head spin. Not the mind-blowing sex—no, that's a plus—but his words. The little acts. You don't know whether to trust them because mostly, he only utters them when you're intimate. You know how different it can be afterwards.

His fingers go under the band of your underwear and take them off with your assistance.

"Such a pretty pussy." His thumb traces up and down your slit, collecting your arousal and causing you to buckle from his slow, teasing touch.

"Rafe." You warn. "The time."

He glances over his shoulders to the digital clock sitting on his dresser and turns back to you with a smirk. "How about you watch it and tell me how I'm doing?"

"You have a meeting soon."

"Baby, you really don't want to rush me." He declares, moving closer and pushing your legs onto his shoulders. His tongue lightly grazes your cunt, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip. "I wanna enjoy this."

Rafe flattens his tongue, performing languid strokes as your fingers threads through his hair. You arch into his face when he sucks on your clit, his fingers entering you in simultaneous thrusts. Your eyes flutter close from the sensation.

"You taste so good, baby, I could have you for breakfast every morning." He mumbles against your opening, the vibration of his rasps elevates the pleasure and aids you towards your climax.

When you come on his face, Rafe guides you through your release and when he pulls back, he checks the clock. "Not bad, huh?"

You shake your head softly, a dazed smile on your lips. "I bet I can do better."

"Yeah?"

You push yourself forward to remove his sweatpants, the outline of his bulge prominent, and while you tease him with light traces on his lower abdomen, the sound of a ringtone interrupts you.

Rafe moves over to the dresser where his phone sits and answers the call from his father. "Yeah?" He greets, listening to what Ward has to say. "You said twelve."

Another exchange is made before Rafe ends, and when he does, he rolls his eyes, agitation evident on his features. "I have to go. My dad is moving up the time."

You smother the aching disappointment and nod. "Okay," you say, picking up your panties from the floor and sliding them over your hips. You glance over to the door, contemplating your own exit. He notices.

"I'll be back, alright?" Rafe reaffirms, coming over to plant a gentle kiss on your temple and your body leans into his touch. "Just stay."

While you wait for Rafe to explain, you take a tour around the estate. Midway through your exploration of family portraits and expensive winery around the kitchen, you receive a phone call from the babysitter.

"Hello?" You answer, while the babysitter is scrambling to produce coherent words. "Wait, wait, slow down. What's going on?"

She doesn't explain much, informing you to get home immediately and hangs up. Your heart sputters by the sudden disconnect and you race to Rafe's bedroom to collect your things before ordering a rideshare. When you hop in, your leg restlessly taps on the floor of the car while you check the battery on your phone.

You're imagining the worst possible scenarios. Something happened to your sisters. They got injured. One of them is in the hospital. The other is missing. Or, somehow, the house caught on fire and now, you're homeless.

When you reached your destination, the car didn't halt to a full stop before you hopped out, running down the driveway to the familiar, unscathed house. That calms your mind for a moment.

Before you realize it's something much worse.

"Aaron." You murmur, shoulders tense as your eyes widen, recognizing the tall dark-haired man standing in front of your door, talking to the babysitter who's blocking the entryway. He turns his head at your arrival, eyes cascading down your body before meeting your gaze.

"Y'know, you've been a hard woman to find." He chuckles to himself, the sound making all the hair on your body stand up. Aaron pushes himself off the beam of your porch. "Where you been?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You glance over to the babysitter to signal her and she reenters the house and barricades the door. Inhaling a sharp breath, you try to calm yourself.

"What are you doing here?"

He tsk. "Wrong answer. I asked you first."

"I know I'm late—"

"I don't wanna hear excuses." He holds out his hand, flexing the various dark ink crawling up his forearms. "I just want an answer."

His voice is calm. Too calm. It's scaring you.

"I've been busy. Business been slow—"

"Is that not an excuse I'm hearing?" He says, stepping closer to you. You can see the outline of his gun tucked under the band of his pants and your breath shortens. "Where have you been?"

With your heartbeat in your throat, you don't know what answer you can give to satisfy him. So, you remain silent.

When Aaron realizes that, he tilts his gaze out into the driveway with a huff. "I heard you been running around with a Kook," he states, matter-of-fact, and you can smell the faint stench of nicotine wafting from his clothes. "Was that him?"

He's referring to your rideshare driver. You shake your head frantically. "No. But, I swear to you, I'll get you your money if I have more time."

He scoffs in disbelief, turning back and ignoring your pleas. His dark eyes find the pendant wrapped around your neck and he lets out a cold chuckle. "And he's been giving you some real nice gifts, too."

Fuck, this isn't a good look for you. Your panic is skyrocketing and you resist the strongest urge to hide the expensive jewelry behind your palm.

"Aaron." You begin again, your voice shifting to desperation. "I just need a little bit more time. This doesn't mean—"

He holds out another hand. "Look, I've been a nice guy. Wouldn't you say so?" He prompts, tilting his head, and when you don't answer, he adds. "I mean, what kind of person would lend you thirty grand? I consider that pretty generous, right?"

You swallow hard, your throat dry. "Right."

"And I've done nothin' yet to make you not trust me otherwise, right?"

You hesitate with a shaky breath, your knees buckling. "Right."

"So, all I'm asking is to return the gesture and give me back my money. I help you, you help me, that's how this relationship works, right?"

"Aaron, I—"

"If you interrupt me one more time, I'll cut out that fucking tongue."

You let out a small whimper, silencing yourself. Both hands tucked behind your back. He smiles at your submission, dark eyes gleaming in pride. "Good."

Aaron draws closer, stopping just in front of you. His grimy fingers trails down the length of your neck, following the chain of your necklace, before grabbing the pendant between his fingers and ripping it off. The clasp breaks and a gasp leaves your lips.

With his other hand, he seizes the back of your neck.

"Three days." He threatens, the grip piercing into your skin. "I'm givin' you three more days and if you can't pay me back by then, I won't be such a nice guy anymore."

He waves the dangling necklace in front of your face. "I'll keep this as collateral."

You're shaking under his touch and he notices, smiling crudely, before he does another sweep of your exposed body. "And y'know, there's other ways of paying me back."

Aaron finally releases you, and you stumble away from him with a few steps. The dark-haired man descends off your porch and disappears on his bike, leaving you trembling at the foot of your door.

You don't move for the next few minutes. Your mind is occupied with everything going on, that when you slip into your house, you run on autopilot.

You pay the babysitter, patting her back as a silent gratitude for her assistance and protection, and gather your sisters onto the couch, holding them close. Hugging them tight. Trying to use their heartbeats to calm yours.

The rest of the night is spent with them. They wanted to watch a movie and you pulled out an old disk of their favorite films. With that on, they quickly fall asleep on your shoulders and you carry them to their bedroom.

That's when the real work begins.

Spending the rest of your time on the kitchen island, devising a plan, you hear a knock at your door.

Afraid that the loan shark had returned to make a second visit, you hoped it would go away, only for the sound to grow more intense and adamant. Your fear spikes and you were afraid he was going to do something much worse if you didn't answer. When you approached the front door, you held your breath.

Only to find a blond.

"Where were you?" Rafe demands, his expression unreadable but his words are cold. It rubs you the wrong way, reminding you too closely of Aaron.

You can't handle it. You attempt to shut the door, only for Rafe to stick his foot between the crack and push back.

"What the fuck? What are you doing?" Rafe enters into your house, his eyes searching the place for anything out of the ordinary, anything you would hide from him, before his gaze lands on you.

You cross your arms protectively over your chest, thinking this is another one of his outbursts. "Rafe, I don't have time right now. Whatever you're pissed off about, you have to wait—"

"I came home and you were gone."

That quiets you.

"Your shit was gone. Even your mess from the bathroom was wiped clean." He recounts, struggling to conceal the vulnerability seeping through his words with each reveal. "You didn't even leave a note."

Your mind is muddled. You didn't realize it would affect him this much and something about the act endears you. You were so frantic, trying to figure out how to get home before your phone dies, that you forgot your own commitment to Rafe.

"Say something." He urges.

"What happened?" You ask softly, discovering your answer when his expression twists. Like he doesn't want to think about it. You don't want to think about your problems either. "I assumed you would go to a party."

You say that because, if Rafe didn't have you conveniently-located at his disposal, he would return to his own vices. It stings him that you still thought of him as his former image, but he couldn't completely fault you because he did—he went to one of the island's parties and came out still feeling empty.

Rafe's jaw locks as he stares at you, breathing heavily. Taking you in. How just the sight of you seems to soothe him. He doesn't know how to explain it, when the tides changed, but it did. The fact that he's here, in this rundown house in the middle of The Cut after a blowout with his father, all because he misses you says it all.

"I don't want to talk." He declares firmly, the resoluteness of his tone shocks you. "Not now. But I will, after, if that's what you want."

You draw your brows together. "What are you getting at, Rafe?"

Rafe swears under his breath. These words, these feelings are difficult to him. It's uncomfortable and unwanted and all it makes him want to do is resort back to his anger, something comfortable he can express himself in. But he can't. Not with you.

"I don't want that shit anymore. I just wanna fuck you."

Your lips part. "What?"

Unintentionally, the natural response came with a tone of hurt but you disguise it well. You recognize your own feelings in that precise moment. When you got into this relationship with Rafe, you knew nothing he does is out of the sincerity of his heart. It's a committed act. A performance of a perfect boyfriend.

Yet, it breaks your heart. How you manage to fall for him, despite knowing everything he does is fake. Even now, standing before you, he's admitting his clear intentions and you can't help but envision another meaning.

It can destroy you, this hope, only if you let it. You'd rather let the clear lines be drawn. If Rafe is telling you he wants to use you for sex, so be it. You won't ask for anything else.

When your silence becomes deafening, Rafe abandons his last shred of pride.

"Please."

You inhale sharply, evening your words. You can detach too. "Ask me."

His large hand tucks under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "Can I use you?"

"Yes."

The confirmation was all he needed before his lips slams into yours. His hands lowers to capture your ass and as a signal, you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist. Rafe moves through the hallway and towards your bedroom, kick-opening the door, causing the doorknob to smash into your wall with a loud thump.

You pull back from the kiss. "Don't break my house."

"I'll pay for that."

Rafe drops you onto the bed and pulls off his shirt you took from Tannyhill. His movements are skilled and hurried, needing to see you, to taste you. He kisses down your neck, to the curve of your shoulders, before finding himself between the valley of your breasts. His mouth covers a nipple.

You tip your head back with a moan, reveling in the way his tongue twirls around the metal barbell, igniting your nerves. Rafe rocks against your spread legs and you feel his bulge teasing your core. "Rafe, please."

"What did I tell you about rushing me?" He murmurs against your skin. "I'm trying to enjoy this."

The challenge hangs in the air and when Rafe gives both of your tits equal attention, he pulls back to admire the sight of your hard nipples wet and glistening. Tilting his gaze up to you, he palms a breast in his hand.

"I'm going to be rough." He announces. "Tell me if it hurts."

Your heart swells from the gesture but you wish he would just do it without caution. It'll be easier to separate your feelings.

Leaning forward to capture a kiss, you breathe into his mouth. "You said use me, right? Then use me."

His eyes darken. "Don't say something you'll regret."

"Then make me regret it."

You're exactly what he needs.

Rafe wastes no more time and strips out of his clothes, his cock springing free from his boxer, all red and swollen. You can't help but feel a pang of pity, remembering how he had to leave this morning without release.

Reaching out to cup him, he snatches your wrists in one hand. "What do you think you're doing?"

You pout. "I'm helping you."

"Did I tell you to?" His words are commanding, shifting to a state that leaves no room for arguments. You swallow hard, feeling a thrill passing through you at his control. "Are you going to be a good girl tonight and do as you're told?"

You nod.

"I need words, sweetheart."

"Yes." You say desperately and Rafe releases you.

Pushing you back against the mattress, he pulls you to the ledge and removes your shorts and panties. When you're open and dripping for him, he thrusts into you without warning.

"Shit," you let out a cry. Rafe pushes the back of your thighs into a bend, your kneecaps beside your ears, and this new position gives him access to enter deeper.

"Fuck, I needed this." He moans, burying in ecstasy at the way you wrap perfectly around him. "Why would I ever want to go to another fucking party when I can have this every night?"

You can't answer him, too lost in the initial pain that quickly fades into your credence of pleasure. Moans escape you, elevating in volume with each pump. You had to slap both your hands over your mouth to muffle your sounds from waking your sisters.

Rafe recognizes that immediately. That's the only reason he isn't ripping them off right now—to let him hear how he makes you feel, to listen to what he's owed—because he knows where your priorities lie.

"Please don't stop," you whimper through your fingers, which are slowly loosening as you feel the familiar tension tightening in your gut.

"Sweetheart, God can't even pull me away from this pussy right now." Rafe grunts. Your walls flutter around him. "You're about to come, aren't you?"

You nod desperately and Rafe fastens his rhythm, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as you race towards your orgasm with a loud, uninhibited moan that echoes through the room. He had to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Panting, you try to catch your breath but Rafe doesn't allow you to rest. Still hungry, still needing, he pulls out and flips you on your stomach, hauling your ass in the air.

Your legs burn from the way he folded you but you still get on your knees. Breathing heavily with your profile pressed against your sheets, you feel his hands flattening against the smooth curve of your cheeks, squeezing.

Rafe takes his time to admire you from behind. So willing, so wanting, he can see you dripping and making a mess on your covers. He chuckles. "Do you need me, baby?"

"I want you," you breathe, "inside, please."

"Inside where?" Rafe grips the base, tapping his tip on your wet folds. "Here?" He mocks, before shifting to the opening of your asshole. "Or here?"

Your breath hitches; the unfamiliar contact sends a shiver down your spine.

"Come on, sweetheart. I need an answer." Rafe taunts, rubbing his slick cock over your hole, anticipation pricking his skin as he sees you contract. "Would this be your first?"

You nod, too disoriented to form words.

He grins. "Are you going to let me fuck your asshole?"

The feeling of your slickness rubbing against your back entrance feels foreign but not unwelcome, sending hot desire to your core. While you struggle to produce an affirmative, Rafe leans forward to grab your throat, pulling you upright.

"Are you going to answer me, Pogue, or am I going to have to do it for you?"

You hate the term Pogue, especially when he uses it, but at this moment, with his hot breath fanning the crook of your neck, you're glad he is. It reminds you—to separate the sex and your heart.

"Whatever you want." You confess.

Rafe drops you back onto the mattress, spitting on your asshole and wets the area with the pad of his thumb. He didn't immediately enter, as you would have predicted, and instead pushed a thick digit through your hole.

You try to relax, shivering through unfamiliar contact.

"Oh, shit, you're so tight for me." He breathes out, sliding in two. "I know you're going to make me come in a second."

He thrusts in-and-out at a slow pace, prepping you, but the lack of friction is causing you to grow impatient and needy. All you want is him.

"Do it. I'm ready."

Rafe laughs. Not listening. "But this isn't about you, is it?"

He tests you out for a couple more minutes, getting you comfortable and relaxed, and it lures you into a false sense of security. When you find yourself gathering your breath, it shifts into a sudden emptiness of his removal, and before you know it—he pushes the head of his cock in, surprising you with a scream.

The pressure stings from the initial intrusion, and you wince, gripping onto the sheets and burying your face, but as Rafe gradually fills you, the pain fades into an unlikely pleasure, floating and amplified all over your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans. "Am I hurting you?"

You hesitate before nodding. "Yes..."

He stills. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head. "No."

Something ignites deep and carnal within Rafe. The way your body tightens, your legs shaking, and the submission in your voice as he has his way with you. The fact that you want to continue, despite the hurt, because he wants it, drives him insane.

"You're being such a good girl tonight."

The compliment drives your enthusiasm and you wiggle your ass against his cock, feeling him twitch inside of you. It flips his control. Rafe quickly grabs your hips, holding you in place.

He grits out. "Don't do that."

"Why not?" You whine, wanting to feel him deeper, more full. "I'm only trying to help."

A laugh can't help but escape him. At how cockdrunk you are—it carves something in his chest. "God, you really are my personal slut. Doing anything to make me feel good, won't you?"

You don't answer, the call-out warming your cheeks at your own recognition. You said it once during sex, a tease on him, but now you can't help but see how true it is. Now, it feels like an attack on the independent facade you crafted as part of your character.

Rafe wants to hear you. He grips your hips harder, leaving bruises. "Say it."

You shake your head. You don't want him to know how much you're willing to give him. It's too vulnerable.

The lack of silence isn't enough for him.

Rafe rails into you, bottoming out, and you let out a cry at the intensity of his size, at the pressure buried in you, and the pain-pleasure that pulsates through your body. You understand it's your own punishment, but your teeth sinks into your bottom lip, refusing to budge.

He goes again. And again. To the point that he's rage-fucking you, abandoning all restraints and channeling his aggression from his brunch and your disobedience. He wants to know you'll be willing to sacrifice your pride as much as he sacrifices his and he's pissed that you aren't.

A tit-for-tat.

One of your hands slips between your legs, rubbing your clit in simulation. The euphoria explodes all over, especially with how Rafe fills you from behind, and you moan wildly, causing him to discover the act and pin your wrists behind your back.

"No."

"Rafe." You beg, the ache between your legs is demanding and left without resolution. "Touch me."

He shakes his head with a tsk. "Bad girls don't deserve that."

You have a retort on your lips but it's forgotten the moment he thrusts into you, so deep, it hits a spot you didn't know existed and causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head.

"Fuck, you're loud." He grumbles, grabbing your panties from the side and bundling them into a tight ball, shoving it into your mouth. You choke on surprise.

"Rafe–"

"Shut. Up." He warns viciously, knowing the increment level of noises you're producing is going to wake your siblings. Another reason why you won't let him in. "And just take it like a good slut."

Something about his command exhilarates you. Bounded and gagged, Rafe is fucking your ass, and all you can think about is you're letting him. You want this. Even with his harsh words.

You had to give him something.

"Like yours." You admit, the muffling of your panties works wonders at stifling your words.

Despite that, he heard it. Rafe pauses for a moment. You aren't giving him everything, but he hears it in the confession.

His command is low. "Say that again."

"I'm yours." You whimper, desperate and submissive. "Please make me come."

His chest warms and his smile is smug. Rafe slides his hand from your hips to your needy cunt, rubbing your swollen nub with tight circles, causing you to buckle and heightening your rising peak.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp with a sharp breath, "oh, god, oh, god."

When you come, your orgasm hits in waves—intense and demanding—ripping out of you despite the gag, and searing in such an elevated state that you slump back onto the bed. Rafe has to abandon everything to grab your middle, holding you up.

He continues to penetrate you from behind until he fills you up, his hot cum leaking out of you. When he pulls out, he takes his fingers and pushes it back in, causing you to contract with a low, lazy moan.

You're out of it. You thought it would be the end but Rafe's appetite is insatiable. He settles back against the headboard of your bed, breathing heavily with a sheen of sweat covering his taut chest, and beckons you.

"Rafe," you groan weakly. "What?"

"Come here."

Despite the throbbing in your muscles, you crawl to him. Settling next to his pelvis, you glance down at his softening cock. "Get me hard again."

Your eyes widen at the instruction. "Are you not tired?"

"Never of you."

You roll your eyes before your fingers gingerly wrap around his shaft, slowly rubbing him out, feeling it harden underneath your touch in a matter of seconds. You gleam in a bit of pride at your ability. You turn back to him, drawn out and exhausted. "Now, what?"

"Ride me."

"What?"

"Come on, sweetheart." He teases, grabbing your waist and moving you to mount over him. Your entrance hovers over his tip, sensitive—so, so sensitive—that you let out a small whine. "You have a promise to keep."

You try. Lowering yourself to let the head in, you immediately pull back, hissing from your overestimation with a fervent shake of your head.

"Rafe." You pant, eyes searching his face. "I can't. I–I think I'm done."

"I'm not." And with that, he thrusts upwards and into you. You collapse onto his cock, sinking down with a cry as tears prick your line of vision from the overwhelming ache of pleasure.

You still move against him, trying to produce some friction, despite your words. Rafe sees how you're working, trying to please him, that he pulls you down to capture your mouth in a tender kiss, drawing out your pain with some pleasantry.

His hand cups the side of your face and you melt into his touch, the act removes all your inhibitions. When he retreats, he whispers against your lips. "Last one, okay, baby? I know you can hold out for me a little longer."

Determination courses through you.

You, with tear-stained cheeks, nods. You straighten your posture, closing your eyes and will yourself through the pain, bouncing on his cock and ignoring the burning sensation in the back of your thighs.

Rafe watches your tits bounce and uses the opportunity to capture the bar lined between your nipples, twisting and pulling them to produce pleasure for you. The additive of his touch pushes your body into overdrive and you feel yourself growing closer once again.

"Please, please, please." You beg, to anyone, anything with a higher power, to guide you through this climax. It's the hardest to peak, and you try to quicken your pace, but your legs give out and you fall flat. Rafe, knowing the familiar twitch of your walls around him, begins to assist and thrusts into you.

"I'm close, baby," he grunts, pumping forward with enough force that pushes both of you through your orgasm and riding out your highs together. You clench so tightly around him, in the aftermath, that he can barely move.

When you feel the familiar warm pool spilling inside of you, you let him empty it all out, and when you dismount, you fall into the space beside Rafe, leaking and complete fucked out.

Rafe knows your next move is to pull to the ledge, to separate some distance between the two of you, but he doesn't give you the chance before he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. His breathing is heavy, his heart rate is fast, and he's worn out from the session.

You don't resist, letting yourself calm down with him. It isn't until he presses a soft kiss to the back of your shoulders and wipes away some of your tears that your stomach flips. "You okay?" He murmurs against your heated skin.

You want to cry. Not from the sensation but because of how gentle he's treating you after; how it's messing with your feelings and making you think of things you shouldn't.

"I'm fine." You lie, putting your hand over his arms and peeling them off of your body before pulling to the ledge. It feels like a safety tactic nowadays.

Rafe takes it as some kind of rejection and when you move into a sitting position, back pressed against the headboard, you turn to him with a raised brow.

"Do you want to talk about it now?" You ask, doing something, anything to stop this feeling from building inside of your chest and giving you hope. You remind yourself of the transactions; the falsehood of it all.

He doesn't, especially with the distance, but he does it anyway, out of respect for your terms.

"My dad is giving away the case to Sarah."

Your lips part. "What?"

"The one with the marsh and hotel? Yeah."

You pause, taking a few seconds to gather your words. "And you're upset because it's unfair?"

He doesn't answer you immediately. He's not upset about the case itself, there's hundreds of other opportunities for him to handle business like that. Especially now knowing he could. It was the fact that it was our case, because you helped him figure it out. You were his partner.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I worked hard on it. She doesn't deserve all the credit."

You hum in understanding. "I'm sorry."

Rafe huffs. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, it's compassion." You correct. "You're pissed and you're hurt by something your dad did to you. It's okay to feel that. I'm sorry you have to feel that."

Rafe says nothing, watching you.

His heart aches.

You’re so understanding. So perfect. He doesn’t know how to explain how every time he comes in with this need for you, for you to satisfy him physically, only to come out of it a different man. Someone better. Someone more in-tuned with himself. He never had someone like that in his life.

He looks at you like you’re a dream but he’s afraid he isn’t yours.

You decide to move the conversation elsewhere, not wanting to end the night in such a depressive state. "Are you staying the night?"

“Are you kicking me out?” Rafe asks tightly.

He wants to understand you, of where you’re ranking him at. He knows he’s going to absolutely lose it if he has to go back to Tannyhill tonight.

"No." You declare, grabbing the comforter and throwing it over your body. You should really take a shower and clean up, but you're so exhausted right now, all you want is to go to sleep and figure it out tomorrow.

"Does that mean..." He trails off, wanting to hear you say it, wanting you to ask him.

You don't.

"Whatever you want, Rafe." You yawn, rubbing your eyes. "If you stay, you stay. If you leave, just make sure to lock the door behind you."

And with that, you fell asleep.

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

taglists: @quicksilversg1rl / @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @kur0obaby / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @rivaiken / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl l / @lafavoritaangel / @bunniii-98 / @vvvhack / @babygoddam / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @alyssax25 / @chopshopcheesecake / @fentyxmalik / @fleets-world / @supernaturalwriter / @taylorsmissamericanna / @hehelollmao / @lac0nically / @elysiasshit / @kravitzwhore / @tommysaxes / @ma-yangg / @carolinaxvz / @bandsbooks / @sourjoonie / @rafemotherfuckingcameron

573 notes · View notes

urprettylittlething · 6 months

Text

In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please <3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple.

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe.

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones.

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm.

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours?

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened.

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount.

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag.

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly.

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable.

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start.

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again.

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure.

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit.

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy.

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store.

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic.

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard.

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her.

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone.

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her.

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps.

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax.

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge.

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there.

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc.

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention.

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside.

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside.

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door.

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together.

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them.

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation.

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.”

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching.

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.”

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent.

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present.

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly.

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle.

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm.

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them.

Wherever it was, it was concerning.

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway.

1, 2.

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest.

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door.

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door.

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could.

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down.

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever.

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway.

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious.

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside.

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair.

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry.

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality.

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps.

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble.

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing.

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling.

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her.

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps.

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds.

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with.

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air.

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’.

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief.

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind.

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her.

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time.

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known.

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators.

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns, or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones.

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed.

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her.

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror.

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through.

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him.

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling.

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle.

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles.

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need.

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed.

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her.

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well.

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds.

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response.

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it.

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time.

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey.

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere geto x reader

821 notes · View notes

indierpgnewsletter · 2 months

Text

There's Other Kinds Of GM Advice: Theatricality versus Transparency

(This first appeared on the Indie RPG Newsletter)

I find that broadly there are at least two kinds of GM advice – and they have a very different philosophy underpinning them.

The first kind of advice aims at all costs to maintain verisimilitude. It’s a solution that you can implement without breaking the players’ immersion in their characters. This can just be stuff like Matt Colville explaining that if your players are taking too long discussing plans, guess what, orcs attack! We’ve all probably played a game where people were going in circles and not able to decide what to do. If it looks like we’re not able to decide, we’re probably going to be relieved if the GM makes something happen to break the deadlock and prompt us back into the action.

(Historically, this kind of thing was taken to egregious lengths like Gary Gygax saying if players start acting uppity, have a rock fall on their head. It’s mostly gone now but reddit tells me that Cyberpunk Red which came out relatively recently still says something similar.)

The second flavor of advice involves breaking character and talking to your players directly. I know “talk to your players” is a mantra repeated so often that autocorrect suggests it as soon as you type the letter t. At its worst, this advice is vague and unhelpful. We’ve all considered talking frankly to people in our lives, we just find it awkward and hard and annoying. But, but, but – at its best, just describing the problem as you see it and escalating it from a character discussion to a player discussion will make it go away instantly. Like magic. (If you’re not sure what that means: In a previous issue, I discussed Jason Tocci’s excellent advice on escalating conversation in this way.)

And since the theatrical flavour of advice has the weight of history on its side and transparent advice keeps getting boiled down to mantra form, I thought I’d write down some examples of situations and some alternative ways to handle them:

Situation 1: The players are marines discussing whether to dive into the alien lair and recover their stolen engine (their main goal) or go and see if another missing team of marines is okay. There is only 45 minutes left and this is a one shot.

Theatrical: The other marines suddenly come on the radio and say, “hey we’re okay, please complete the mission.”

Transparent: “Hey, folks. There’s 45 minutes left. If we don’t do the alien lair now, we won’t be able to do it at all. Is that fine?”

Situation 2: The players are low-level fantasy nobodies who have a famous wizard friend. They’re about to tangle with some medium-level bad guy and decide to call in their wizard friend.

Theatrical: When the players try to contact her via a telepathic phone call / spell, she sounds breathless and says she’s busy doing something way more important like fighting a dragon.

Transparent: “Hey, folks. If we get the wizard in, she’ll absolutely make this fight a cakewalk. We won’t even need to roll initiative really. Is that what you want? Or would we rather have a fun fight?”

Situation 3: The players were having fun exploring when they meet a cool NPC (an android! an elf! an android elf!) who has this interesting backstory with an urgent, earth-shattering hook. They go along with the android elf because it seems more important but immediately look like they’re having less fun.

Theatrical: Narrate how the android elf meets a group of other android elves and have the elf say, “Hey, now that I have these folks helping me, you can leave it you want!”

Transparent: “Hey, folks. Talking to you as players here, do we want to stick with this whole android elf plot here? It does mean that we won’t do any open-ended exploration. Which would you prefer?” If they want to ditch the elf plot, you could just retcon it entirely or do the theatrical solution.

All of these situations have happened at my table. They’re all relatively low stakes and I think whichever way you handle it, it’ll probably be fine. But that said, some situations absolutely work better when done transparently so if you’ve never tried the transparent way, give it a shot. If immersion matters a lot to you, try it at the end of the session.

/End

PS. The theatrical options often still require the players to willingly suspend their disbelief and go with it. If a player didn’t play along, they might just say “I thought their radios weren’t working, otherwise we could’ve just contacted them before. Why can they suddenly contact us now?” or “Oh, the wizard is fighting a dragon right now. We can totally wait. There’s no reason we need to fight the bad guy right now.” And sometimes I can’t shut off that part of my brain either so I won’t judge. But if there’s a way to sidestep that situation even coming up, I’m going to take it every time.

#indie rpg #ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg design #rpg #ttrpgsolidarity #game design

439 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

387 notes · View notes

ladybirdswritings · 4 months

Text

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: You’re birthed into a lively family in dire need of financial stability. As the eldest, you’re paraded around to be married and much to the dismay of your mother, you deny every hand offered. Yet unbeknownst to you, a man of great power and influence, Mr. Snow, is lurking in the shadows, waiting for his chance to have you. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: I hope u girlies eat this up, getting scrapped otherwise </3 — as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated!

next chapter

one

You’d much rather be at any other breathing, standing tower of gold trimmings and cracked pillars in existence.

At any building filled to the brim, simply overflowing with tiered skirts and lively grins… offered hands and gentlemen donned in fine suits, pockets suffocated by their own riches.

Yet you cannot be; for mama has ordered your presence to be most dire and mandatory. Although you did consider fleeing for the highest hilltop or feigning ill, you knew well that mama would find you or see straight through your falsehoods.

“My my, you look as though you’ve got something unsweet taped to your vicious tongue.”

You scowl at the blonde goddess most confusingly known to be your sister, and she only flips a ringlet of gold behind her poised shoulder.

“I think it to be quite clear how dreadful I find this. No need to observe aloud, sister.”

Her mischievous sapphire orbs glow with enjoyment, face pink and flushed — skin glistening under the gold lanterns flickering above.

You’ve watched happily from your seat, she’s sure to have danced with at least twenty men now.

No wonder mama has no fears or worries about Jane. She is just guaranteed to run off and be married within the upcoming season, it only makes for less of a distraction for mama— she’ll be glued to you like quill to paper.

It is not as though men do not want you. Oh, they do. Most ardently.

The trouble is only that you do not want them.

How horrible it is to be confined to four lonesome, frayed walls with nothing more than your books and your wit to keep you company. Married to a man who will most certainly be your senior, who busies himself with trivial matters and leaves you to be cold at home.

You would much rather drown yourself in the river stix than face a fate so melancholic.

You wish to be an odd thing, to run away into a cottage and spend your days parted from the people who surround you. You will read books of men made from dreams and you will find comfort in knowing that you will not be wed to a man who will only discontent you.

Of course, that would bring great shame upon your family, ruin them. So it seems you will end up a spinster or a governess. Both fates, although not as you may hope in your dreams, still offer more joy.

“Forgive me for having fun. It is not why I displease you however, perhaps if you picked your pretty head up from that book and stopped waving the hands that greet you away— you would know this. Mama has sent me. The duke, his sister and a dear friend of his have arrived here. Here! At our party, can you believe it?”

You huff out a sigh laced with annoyance, flipping to the next chapter of the dilapidated thing in your hands.

“No, I truly cannot.” You mutter, yet you cannot spare the fresh page even a glance before it is snatched from your clutched fingers.

A first edition, it shreds from its spine and erupts a gasp from both you and Jane. Mama’s cyan gaze is cold and anxious, feigning a tight smile.

That one was your favorite.

You do not lift your head, you do not notice the three towering men who look down upon your reserved oak wood bench in interest. Mama clutches the duke’s palm in an embrace of suffocation, yet you do not pay it even a little mind as you drop to your knees in your pretty dress to find the strayed page.

“My god, where are your manners — girl! Please do not pay her rudeness any attention, she gets sickly over these things. Sweetheart, up now— we can buy you another.”

Her voice is cold, devoid of any admiration. It is a lie, too. Your family cannot afford even a singular chapter of a new novel, let alone a first edition. You should be the one plagued by frustration, yet you feel as though it is you who is doing something wrong.

Even so, your eyes search the floor with great fervor, landing on a polished leather shoe which suffocates chapter twelve.

You wince, preparing all the words you can to kindly request the stranger lifts his big foot off of your paper. Yet they dissipate in the back of your throat.

The man, he bends at his knee as he frees the old thing from his sole. Your eyes lift to greet him, then.

He is a mess of blonde locks, unruly compared to that of the others with hair long enough. Theirs are tamed with ribbons, his only sits atop his head. His eyes are a cold color, one you cannot explain. They are commanding, fueled with great intensity.

Beyond all of this?

He looks most certainly miserable.

He does not wish to attend tonight, one glance proves this.

He spares you no words as he passes you the paper, eyes locked upon the contents of it. He offers you a hand of assistance, too.

You ignore it, wincing at the disgust your mother expresses.

You need no aid as you lift to your feet and dust the old thing off, he follows you — becoming a tower taller once he stands.

Jane, you are grateful now that she is still here. She laughs most uncomfortably, placing a polite hand upon your shoulder as she snatches the page away. Far more gently.

“My dear sister, may I introduce you to your grace — sir Sejanus Plinth of Newbury. Alongside him, his sister — Grace Plinth and their dearest friend, Coriolanus Snow, also of Newbury.”

You know well that you’ve just about boiled a vicious pot of scorching water, one you’ll have to face the many consequences of. A quick glance stolen toward mama proves it.

With a soft sigh, you curtsy to the men before you. A show of respect which you most certainly do not have for them. They are just as unimportant as the others, grand status or not. Including the miserable looking blonde with cold eyes.

“Lovely to meet you. This is truly a grand gathering you’ve all put together…” Sejanus offers with a smile of pearl. You peer up at him, his eyes stealing quick glances at goddess Jane.

Mama goes off on a tangent about how much she adores hosting gatherings as much as attending them — and it’s all a mere buzz in your ears.

Your eyes shift toward the sister, Grace. She’s scowling at you… how peculiar.

“Jane, forgive me if this is far too forward but — I would be most honored to be the last dance you partake in this evening.” Sejanus swallows back his nerves, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Sweet Jane doesn’t bother torturing him, she only nods a shy head.

“Oh, come Grace! I must show you how my youngest daughter performs on the grand piano!”

You feel poorly for the scowling girl who is whisked away by mama. Jane and Sejanus follow alongside them, but part as soon as the music begins.

Both of your palms come to a clasp— shifting weight on your heels as you watch Jane twirl and giggle a golden sound, so beautiful you are certain it could bring each and every single gentleman in attendance to their knees.

Well, except the miserable Mr. Snow.

Your eyes drift to him then — and you catch his gaze already locked upon your stature. He averts it hastily, staring at what looks to be the far wall after he is caught.

Does he plan to lurk here like a shadow’s phantom for the entirety of the evening?

“Do you dance, Mr. Snow?”

His jaw is a sharp — tense thing. It clenches in surprise at your voice. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he answers.

“Not if I can help it.” Is but all he offers before returning to a miserable state of silence again.

By god, to garner more than a mere word is equivalent to the act of tugging teeth loose. You purse your lips, turning your head away to find another question you could offer.

You do not bother, however.

For the first time in all your life, in all the seasons you’ve suffered — you wish to dance. Not because you find it to be fun or any more stimulating than a novel but; rather because you would be far more joyous away from him.

Beyond this, it would make mama less angered when the gathering reaches its end.

You do not offer him a word of parting before you plunge into the lively crowd. A man with blonde locks, not quite as icy as Mr. Snow’s own tousles, offers his hand.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, pretending to be that of a girl in one of your novels. Whisked away by a mysterious, dancing stranger who offers more than just a meaningless hand.

You pretend the blonde is to be a grand lover, one who will care for you beyond material needs. Beyond what is expected and a bore.

You pretend, and when the song ends — so does each and every one of your mindless fantasies.

To normality once again…

486 notes · View notes

liliacamethyst · 10 months

Note

I briefly expressed the idea of Miguel finding out his partner is pregnant in this imagine, and I can’t help but wonder about the possibility of Miguel finding out this way (just as angsty in my opinion).

Another alternate universe Drabble:

Your heart races as you swing through the city, the wind whipping past your face. You are exhilarated by the adrenaline that comes with being a superhero. You’ve always felt like you belonged in the skies, protecting the people who trust you.

But something feels different today. You’re more cautious, more protective, and it’s not just because of yourself. There’s someone else involved. The thought makes your heart swell. You recently found out you’re a few weeks pregnant, and the thought of being a parent excites you. But you’re also scared. You don’t know how Miguel will react, considering his past.

As you land on the rooftop, you notice Jessica Drew waiting for you. Your nausea catches up with you as you double over.

“Jessica Drew, you breathe a word of this to anyone and I will kill you with my bare hands,” you whisper fiercely through clenched teeth.

“How can you when you're throwing up every five minutes?” she retorts. At your wince, she huffs out a breath. “You gotta tell him, at the very least.”

You take a deep breath, nodding slightly. Before you can answer her, your spider-sense tingles and your head snaps up. From the corner of your eye, you see a figure cloaked in shadows zooming toward you and Jessica. You recognize him immediately – it's the Vulture.

"Jessica, look out!" you shout as you push her out of the way. The Vulture’s sharp talons miss her by inches.

You don't waste a moment, shooting webbing to pull yourself towards him. As you close in on the Vulture, you exchange blows, his claws trying to find purchase while your punches land solidly.

Meanwhile, Jessica joins in, and you both engage in a fierce battle above the city. The buildings become blurry as you fight, your focus narrowing down to the Vulture’s relentless attacks.

At one point you see an opening. Your instincts tell you to go for it. But just as you lunge forward, the Vulture spins and his wing catches you in the abdomen. The force sends you hurling toward a building. You try to shoot a web, but the pain is too much.

Jessica catches you before you hit the ground and lays you down gently. She’s saying something but the world is growing dark. You reach for your abdomen.

"Please.. protect my baby," you whisper before everything goes black.

As you slowly regain consciousness, a sterile scentfills your senses. Your body feels heavy and a dull ache resonates through your abdomen. Your heart clenches as the memory of the battle rushes back and you instinctively move a hand to your belly.

Soft murmurs float around you and you blink your eyes open to see Lyla beside you. Her holographic form is displaying medical data in front of Miguel, who is pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back and a deep, angry frown on his face.

"...stable, but she must exercise caution due to early stages of pregnancy..." Lyla's words cut through the fog in your head, and your breath catches.

Miguel freezes, his gaze snapping to Lyla then to you. His expression crumbles as he takes in what Lyla just said.You slowly push yourself into a sitting position, your hand still protectively over your belly. Your eyes lock with Miguel's, his eyes widen with disbelief.

"You... We... Is this...?" Miguel stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You give him a simple nod.

"But...how? How did this happen?" His voice is choked.

"Miguel, listen to me," you start, your voice steady yet just a little bit above a whisper, "You don’t have to... This isn’t an obligation.I dont expect anything from you. I can raise this child alone. I..."

But before you can finish, Miguel leans in, pressing his lips against yours, effectively silencing your rambling. It’s a gentle yet passionate kiss filled with so many unsaid emotions and promises.

I loved this idea, and I really hope this is what you were looking for 💜

#miguel x you #miguel o hara #spider man 2099 #miguel ohara imagine

1K notes · View notes

c0mbatchameleon · 2 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic March 12, prompt: retire, words: 953

Aka optometrist reg au (part 1? maybe) loosely based off of this post

James is having trouble breathing.

The problem is, he can’t quite remember how to do it right now. His brain, rather impressively, emptied of all of its contents the moment the optometrist opened the door.

Right off the bat, the man had been straight to business; swift stride into the room, eyes glued to the clipboard in hand, a curt “hello” and introduction before he sat down and uncapped a pen with his goddamn teeth. James could only stare dumbly, mouth agape as he stumbled over half-sentient responses to the all routine eye exam questions (“See okay with your current prescription?” A black curl falling over the doctor’s otherwise perfectly framed face, cheekbones carved by the sea, like stones.

“Uh huh.”

“Taking any current medications?” Beautiful silver-blade eyes meeting his expectantly.

“Uh-“ James coughing and clearing his throat, “no. No medications.”)

Now, he's at least regained his ability to form sentences. But as James watches the doctor fiddling with machinery, silver rings glinting in harsh, sterile lighting, he is finding immense difficulty in breathing like a normal human being.

“So,” James begins, leaning to rest his elbow on the table and swelling his chest ever-so-slightly. He does his best to smooth out his voice as he speaks, going for casual with just a sprinkling of something sultry. “Dr. Black, did you say it was?” He may not be able to fully function but God help him if he can’t still flirt.

The doctor's eyes flick up for only a split second, but James counts it as a win. “That’s correct.” He maneuvers what looks like an avant-garde torture contraption towards where James is sitting. “Rest your chin on the platform.”

James does as he’s told, holding back from an absurd urge to respond with a Yes, sir. He's definitely not conjuring a medley of alternate scenarios in his head in which Dr. Black orders him around. “And what might your first name be?”

“It might be of no relevance to the matter at hand, Mr. Potter.”

“Call me James, please.”

Regulus sits on the other side of the torture-machine and begins turning dials. “You should see a red X on the right side, James,” he replies flatly. Still, the sound of his name on the man’s tongue is fucking intoxicating. It's echoing around his skull--James James James JamesJamesJames--he wants to hear it a million more times, every minute of every day until his last.

James usually hates these appointments. Hates the big machines he has to stick his face in, blowing air and shining bright lights in his eyes. Hates that stupid picture of the house that they make him look at a million times over while some old man who looks just about ready to retire asks “One or two?”

But Dr. Black is not some old man.

He’s new—James has been coming here for years and has certainly never been graced with the sight of this angel-fallen-to-earth before. He's young, too; despite the way he carries the poise of a man with years of experience under his belt, cool and confident and collected, there’s no way Dr. Black is old enough to be more than a couple years out of school. All sharp edges and smooth skin.

And god, his skin. It looks impossibly soft, stretched over slender hands and freckled cheeks, strong nose and cut jaw. As James runs his eyes hungrily over the landscapes of peach-pale skin--hills and valleys spanning the doctor's face and neck and fingers and knuckles--he considers how easy it would be to reach out and touch it, find out for himself if it's really as smooth as it looks.

“James,” Dr. Black's voice cuts sharp through his fantasy, one brow raised where he's clearly caught James drooling over him. “Please look into the eyepiece.”

It’s not like James can help it. He’s a bit entranced by the way the doctor maintains such a stoic expression, posture rigid and cold eyes unwavering, especially now. It’s all the beauty of a pointed blade, glittering in the sunlight, begging to draw blood.

But James doesn’t miss the light blush now in full bloom across the man’s cheeks. Silver-clad fingers have begun tapping a sporadic pattern on the table as storm cloud eyes sweep down and back up James' face, quick as a flash of lightning, and isn’t that just curious? Suddenly, James wants to know what it would take to get that stone-cold cast to crack.

He shoots back a sly grin. “Sure thing, nameless doctor.” He looks into the contraption. “Oh would you look at that. A red X.”

The doctor lets out a muted sigh. He fidgets some more with the dials and buttons on the other side of the machine as James watches the X shift in and out of focus. He breaks the silence only when it's stretched for just a moment too long. “My name is Regulus. There’s gonna be a bright flash now.”

Immediately, a blinding white light flashes directly into his eye, burning a goddamn hole into his field of vision. He swears he can see the inside of his pupil for a moment.

But James doesn't care. Once the shock subsides, he finds himself grinning ear-to-ear.

Now we're getting somewhere.

He looks back up from the eyepiece to where the doctor, Regulus, is still intently focused on the computer and equipment. Evading James' gaze. Cheeks still pink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regulus.”

#I can’t get them out of my head #so here’s a small little thing #didn’t even rlly finish the scene so might continue it some time #laughing at james trying to puff out his chest and strike a pose at this eye exam #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #starchaser #jegulus microfic #james potter x regulus black #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus fic #sunseeker #marauders #james x regulus #writing stuff and things #microfic tag

346 notes · View notes

angellesword · 5 months

Text

It's Not Living (If It's Not With You) | JJK

At thirty-two, you thought you had your life figured out. That is until you received a call one day:

"You need to go to Gangwon Police Station now. There are two people here: One thirty-something male claiming to be your husband, and the other is a three-year-old girl claiming to be your daughter. They say they won't leave unless you, the mom of the family, pick them up."

Or alternatively,

a series of events where you fall in love with Jungkook, become a mom, solve your dead best friend's case, and wriggle out of old money's grasp, but not necessarily in this order. (Maybe all at once. Who knows?)

Genre and warnings: enemies to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining, OMG there is only one bed, forced proximity, cohabitating, enemies to friends to lovers, co-parenting, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, car accidents, law, this fic is originally written as an AOT au, but i've changed it to a JJK one, so please pardon any Japanese terms mentioned (they're not too relevant anyway) some of the characters are from aot too. i'm too lazy to change them haha

Pairing: Police Lieutenant! Jungkook x Lawyer!!Reader

Word Count: 45.5k

Spotify playlist here

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's Friday.

Unlike others, you considered Friday just like any other day—it is a hectic time where you're deeply engrossed in reading what seemed to be an unending stack of files.

People working under you had already gone home. You allowed them to clock out an hour earlier, not hesitating to hand them your card so they could dine at whatever restaurant they liked.

Your employees deserved it after working 45 hours this week. It's the least thing you could do, though they wished you could extend the same treatment to yourself. Unfortunately, being a lawyer didn't give you the luxury to have a fun Friday night out.

You're stuck in the office, finalizing the cases you'd present before the court next week. Some might think you only needed to endure this day before fully giving yourself a break, but that's not true. Your weekend wasn't any better as you'd be spending it taking pro bono cases to help lower your taxes and prove to others that you did not fully succumb to this cruel, capitalistic world.

Speaking of capitalism, you've heard a quick but shy knock on the door. The person outside knew too well not to disturb you on a Friday night, but some things were inevitable.

"Come in," you ordered casually. Your eyes were still trained on the paper on your desk.

The door flew open as you heard your secretary's pointed heels hitting the cold tiles. Timidly, she said, "Sorry to disturb you, Attorney. We have an urgent case concerning your top client."

You hadn't heard the details of the case, yet you could already feel the veins in your head pulsating. This couldn't be any good. Your top client was the Braun-Grice family. The past months had already been too troublesome. What could those brats have done this time?

"Let me guess," you lazily highlighted the paper with red marks before staring at your secretary. "It's Gabi and Falco again, isn't it? Did they vandalize some rich man's house again?"

Your secretary wished it was that simple. She shook her head, "I'm afraid they've done worse than that." Her voice turned solemn. "The teens are involved in a car accident."

You were startled, immediately letting go of your highlighter. The boredom in your face completely disappeared as you questioned your secretary seriously. "What did they do? Let me see the file."

Mina was an obedient employee. She chose to stay in the office with you but with no intention of beating around the bush. She handed you the file immediately, "Ms. Braun called me earlier and said she and Falco need to see you now. They're in Busan Police Station."

Your hands on the file froze. Busan? What were those brats doing in your hometown? Gabi and Falco were both from Seoul. It's also still a weekday, meaning they had classes. Did they skip school to fuck around?

Mina filled in the blanks for you, "Ms. Braun is remorseful over the other line. She said she and Falco were super stressed in school, so they thought, why not try throttle therapy to ease their minds?"

You laughed derisively upon hearing that. Throttle fucking therapy, my ass. You bet it was Gabi's idea. She had always claimed to be fearless and unstoppable because she knew her family was affluent not just in Seoul but all over Japan.

"So what? Did their car crash into something? How much is the damage?" You finally opened the police report. The incident happened approximately three hours ago. Gabi could only reach your secretary after her medical check-up and giving a statement to the traffic police.

That brat! You had told her countless times to keep her useless mouth shut and wait for you to show up. Why did she never learn!?

"That's the thing. The damage isn't convertible in monetary value. Mr. Grice drove the car because Ms. Braun induced him to do so. Unfortunately, they hit two pedestrians before crashing into a tree."

Numbness crawled from your feet to your face. There was ringing in your ears, and you could've sworn your heart stopped beating when you saw the crime scene pictures.

"The victims are a married couple on their way home. Falco immediately called the police to report the incident. The paramedics came at once, but the victims were proven to be dead on arrival."

It's a miracle you could still hear Mina talk despite the nausea attempting to envelope you whole. Tears began to pool in your eyes, and before you knew it, they were already falling straight to wet the cuff of your long-sleeved shirt.

It's black.

The color of your top was black. Its design was similar to the one the dead victim was wearing. Only the color was different. Hers was white, making the blood staining her shirt so bright that it hurt your already bloodshot eyes.

White and black. She wore white because you claimed it fit her innocent personality more. Black was yours because it was as dark as your soul. The shirt was the perfect Christmas gift. Only two pairs were made by the designer. You paid a huge sum of money for these clothes.

You couldn't be mistaken.

You knew the victim all too well.

"The victims have been identified. The woman is named Sora Kang; the other is her husband, an Italian citizen named Niccolo."

That's all you need to hear before you clamp the folder shut. You stood up, "Cancel all my upcoming cases—Pro bono or not—I don't care. I'm going to Busan tonight."

"Yes, Attorney." Mina handed you two tickets. "I've already contacted someone to buy the bullet train tickets for us. It's the fastest route to Busan."

If this was any other day, you'd probably praise her for being the most reliable secretary, but this wasn't like your typical busy Friday.

You were still as busy as ever, but one thing had changed.

Sora, your childhood best friend, had died.

"I'm going to Busan alone." You tossed the keys to your house in this city to Mina, "I need you to go to my place first. There's a brown box under my bed. Pack it along with my other things—clothes and necessities. You already know that. Send it to Busan. The address is written on the lid of the brown box. I expect you to finish your job in two hours. I'll see you then."

Mina had no objections. She practically ran out of the office after you gave your orders.

Your train would leave in twenty minutes. The short time was not enough, but you forced yourself to gather your wits and temporarily bandage your broken heart.

After that, you went straight to the train station with one thing on your mind:

Clean this mess up.

***

It was quiet at the police station when you arrived. As expected, the Busan Police Division was not idle. Chief Police Kim Namjoon probably stationed his subordinates all over the city. Only Officer Park Jimin was at the front desk.

You wasted no time and showed your license to him; Jimin immediately directed you to the interrogation room where Falco and Gabi were being mentally intimidated.

As a seasoned lawyer, your head was held high as you barged inside the room, ignoring Jimin, who was anxiously coaxing you to calm down.

Of course, he'd tell you to calm down. Jimin was one of your childhood friends who had always been calm and rational. He didn't like solving things with violence, but he was smart enough to know you would not listen to him—not after you saw from the interrogation room window how the interrogator raised his fist to punch Falco. It was the typical intimidation to force a confession out of a suspect. You had encountered this scene many times, so your mind and body seemed to be on autopilot when you faced the interrogator.

You grabbed the devices used to record Gabi and Falco's confession and broke them. At once, all proof gathered in the past hours vanished into thin air.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Gabi, Falco, and the interrogator were dumbfounded by your sudden action.

"You dare!?" The interrogator was the first one to recover from the shock. He quickly turned to you. Intense fury painted his pathetic face as he clenched his hands into tight fists.

His reaction did not faze you one bit. In fact, it only prompted you to say your piece, "Article III, Section 19 of the Constitution states that the employment of physical, psychological, or degrading tactics against a suspect to force out a confession is punishable by the law."

Reciting a provision of the law verbatim was one of your favorite hobbies to defeat opponents. It usually leaves your heart with joy and pride whenever you see their faces morphing into anger and embarrassment. However, none of those exhilarating feelings envelop you.

There was only grief and nostalgia gripping your already broken heart. It was a shame none of these harrowing emotions could be traced in your face—as expected of a ruthless lawyer.

You continued with your attack, "If I remember it right, this is your seven years in public service, so pray tell, Police Lieutenant Jeon Jungkook, how can you not know this basic law even student police knows?"

The mockery in your voice was palpable. Only fools wouldn't realize your intention to humiliate the interrogator. Unfortunately, Jungkook didn't give you the satisfaction of winning this game.

He soon caught up with you, "I didn't realize you keep track of my position and years of service, little miss esquire."

The burning fury was still visible on Jungkook's face, but it was now mixed with disgust. Jungkook was the type of person who'd proudly wear his heart on his sleeve, especially if it meant getting a jab at you.

It worked. A bubble of anger rushed in you when Jungkook refused to say your name and used your title as a lawyer instead. It's a poor attempt to rile you up, really. He acted as if he didn't remember your name—couldn't care less to remember it. It aimed straight at your pride—his subtle mockery crushed you, but he didn't end it with just that.

"Is it part of your schemes? Knowing what your enemies do, I mean. Do you keep track of us so you can use it to fuck us up?"

Jungkook folded his arms across his chest and jutted his chin out. He was already tall, so his current stance only made him look bigger—like he could swallow you in one go.

That's what Jungkook did in the end. He chewed you out, "I wouldn't be surprised. Seeing that your greed won against your dead best friend."

It was a low blow and Jungkook knew it, but you getting hurt never deterred him from hurting you further.

"You know, don't you?"

You could keep your face impassive all day, but you couldn't fool Jungkook. One look at you, and he already knew you had gone from Seoul to Busan in haste. It sparked Jungkook's abhorrence even more.

"You know, and you still went here for them." The sharpness and accusation tinging his tone made you and the two teens flinch. That's when you came back to the realization that you and Jungkook were not alone in this room.

This always happened. You and Jungkook seemed to lose sight of your surroundings whenever you started fighting. Seeing Falco and Gabi's worn-out faces brought you back to the cruel reality.

This wasn't like your usual bickering with Jungkook during your high school days. This time, you two were barring your fangs and claws out, full of displaced hatred and pain because Sora was dead.

It took everything in you not to cry. Your legs were turning soft like you were about to pass out any moment from now. Jungkook's red-rimmed eyes felt like the blood that was sucked out of your heart.

"You disgust me." This was Jungkook's final words before walking away, leaving you with only a loud slam of the door.

"A-Attorney..." Gabi tried calling for you until your attention was focused on them.

You did not respond to her call but stomped in her direction. Every click of your pointed heels shook Falco and Gabi's hearts. Gone was the smug look on Gabi's face that appeared every time you came to bail her out of jail.

This case was different. She couldn't make it all go away with money. Gabi looked helpless. Her lips were quivering when she tried calling out for you again, "A-Attorney, please help us—"

Slap!

Gabi's ear hurt. In her nineteen years of existence, this was the first time someone dared lay a hand on her. Gabi was baffled yet couldn't look you in the eyes. Her head remained tilted to the side, allowing you to see the tears cascading down her left cheek.

It was Falco who tried to stop you. His eyes were full-blown panic as he tried to talk some senses into you, "Attorney, don't. Please calm--"

Slap!

You laid a hand on Falco's cheek, too. Naturally, Gabi tried defending her lover by grabbing your hand. You let her grip your right hand because it wouldn't deter you from using your other hand to slap her again.

The teens were teaming up against you. When you slap Falco, Gabi will rescue him, and vice versa. All they did was grab your hand, though. They didn't dare fight back, making it easy for you to alternately slap them until your hands ached.

In the end, the two resigned to their fate and simply allowed you to numb their cheeks with pain.

But it wasn't enough.

No amount of physical pain could equal the lives they had taken because of recklessness. The same goes for you. No amount of pain would justify dereliction of duty. As of now, you were left with no choice but to continue doing your job as a lawyer. You fished a calling card from your slacks' pocket and threw it across Falco's chest.

The calling card fell on the floor. The teens did not dare pick it up or even look at it. But your following words made their bodies tremble.

"If I were you, I'd pick that up and start calling my new lawyer, as I will no longer be representing you in court."

Gabi was wise enough to bend and reluctantly pick up the card. You wanted to step on her fingers and crush them with your pointed heels. But you did not.

Seeing tears form in Gabi's eyes when she spotted the name of the new lawyer you recommended brought you more joy than stepping on her fingers.

The new lawyer was Reiner Braun. He wasn't supposed to be a lawyer in the first place. Reiner was Gabi's cousin; their family's connection made it easy for Reiner to pass the bar despite his lack of knowledge and power. Frankly speaking, Gabi knew this. She tried to argue with you, but you cut her off with another resounding slap.

"You have the audacity to still ask me?" Unadulterated anger settled at the pit of your stomach. You were so mad you ended up laughing. You balled your hands into fists and hid them behind you. It's for the better; otherwise, you would also end up in prison because of an assault.

"Your idiocy harmed my best friend. She and her husband died while you two fuckers remain in my line of sight—alive." You emphasized the last word with so much hatred, "So don't think even for a second that I will still be representing you in court. Because if I was..." The corner of your mouth turned up as you trailed off.

You looked at Gabi and Falco from head to toe. Only the blind couldn't see the threat dancing in your eyes. "I'll make sure you won't just lose the case. You'll get the maximum penalty, and I'll leave your ten next generations in shambles."

Falco's eyelashes fluttered. Gabi, on the other hand, gripped the card as if her life depended on it. They were resigning to their fate once more.

Good, because you could only take so much in an hour. There were still many things to patch up, and so you turned to leave, following the trail of footsteps Jungkook left.

***

Jungkook thought he was going crazy.

One would think that being in service for seven years would already desensitize his heart from crimes. He supposed that, to some extent, that was true. Unfortunately, no one had prepared Jungkook for all the negative feelings welling up in his chest as he dealt with the suspects involving the death of his loved one.

Sora.

A wave of nausea hit Jungkook as the image of Sora's dead body flashed in his mind. The feeling of helplessness was the worst punch in his gut, leaving his fist aching to beat the two teens in front of him.

Falco and Gabi remained rooted in their spot. Jungkook did not know what to do with them anymore. Whenever Falco confessed his crime, Gabi would refute it by saying it was all her fault. Jungkook couldn't care less about their heroic act; he just wanted someone to pay for Sora's death, but Falco had no plans of condemning Gabi either. He looked at Jungkook with tears, saying that Gabi was innocent.

Fucking brats! Jungkook couldn't take it anymore. He raised his fist to punch Falco; unfortunately, you barged into the room and ruined everything. It's bad enough that Jungkook didn't get to beat up Falco. How dare you destroy his evidence, too!?

"Damn it!" Jungkook kicked the pebbles outside the station. He initially left the interrogation room to cool down a little, but Jimin, his comrade, stopped him from getting back inside. Apparently, you told Jimin about that bullshit called the Bill of Rights.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook. Captain Yoongi called. He told me to get you out of the station as soon as possible. You're barred from participating in this investigation. Captain Yoongi is on his way now. He'll be the one interrogating the suspects."

"You can't do this to me, Jimin." Jungkook shook his head, refusing the Captain's order. "Sora's my best friend. You are her friend too! We need to avenge her!"

Jimin surely loved Sora, too, so he understood Jungkook to some extent. But he knew Captain Yoongi's decision was for the better. Jungkook was currently not in the right state of mind. He was grieving. Bloodlust was apparent in his eyes. If he wasn't careful enough, he might ruin this case.

"Go home, Jungkook." Jimin held Jungkook's shoulder firmly, "Or help Taehyung with the arrangement. He's alone and hurting, too."

Right. Jungkook's heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he thought about Taehyung. If anyone's hurting beyond repair right now, it had to be Taehyung. The latter and Sora were like inseparable twins.

Jungkook wanted to see Taehyung after interrogating Falco and Gabi—a form of consolation, if you might. Regrettably, it wasn't possible now, and it was your fault. Nothing ever went Jungkook's way when you were around.

You and Jungkook have known each other since you were kids. You were from the same street in Busan, so it was almost impossible not to see his face daily. You two were even classmates in your schooling days. In fact, you and Jungkook were pretty popular in school, but not for a good reason.

You two made people want to pull their hair out as you took being rivals too seriously. You argued about the smallest thing, wanting to appear as the stronger one, the smarter one, and the braver one.

But the thing was, your fights with Jungkook were never serious. It was more like teenage bickering. Admittedly, the whole school knew you, Sora, Jungkook, and Taehyung as the Idiot Quartet. Sora and Taehyung played pranks on everyone and did not care much about their academic performance. Meanwhile, you and Jungkook were academic rivals who went out of your way to win against the other. It was so petty that the other students thought you were idiots.

The anger Jungkook felt for you years ago was still apparent today, but he couldn't deny that it changed into something worse.

Hatred.

He'd known you for an ambitious woman who never backed down. You weren't content with your life in Busan and thus moved to Seoul. That part was naturally acceptable. What Jungkook couldn't accept was you casting aside your friendship with Sora for money and power.

You truly exceeded his worst expectations of you. Jungkook clenched his jaw and hands, swearing that you were his enemy from today onwards.

***

Contrary to popular belief, Sora was not an idiot. She had planned not just her life but also her death. This ensured that the living wouldn't be burdened by her passing.

Admittedly, you were involved in the preparations she made. As a lawyer, Sora sought your service to make writing her will easier. It happened three years ago:

Sora recently gave birth to a baby girl named Hanni. The child had blond hair like her father. She was too cute for her own good, so you didn't understand how Sora had the heart to think about death when she had a growing little angel by her side.

It wasn't fair to leave Hanni without a mother in this world.

"This is called safeguarding my baby's future." Sora reasoned out while writing down her 'will.' Her tongue was sticking out, and her brows were pinched together, indicating that she was serious about this ordeal.

It made you sigh.

"Okay! I've finalized the distribution of my...what do you call it again? Estate?"

"Assets." You corrected her firmly. Assets were for the living, and the estate was for the dead. You refused to associate your best friend with anything related to death. It was evident by the way your lips protruded into a sulky pout. You hated having this conversation with her.

"Asset, estate, or whatever you call it. I don't really care as long as it's done. Now, come here and notarize it. I've heard I need a witness when finalizing my will. You are my witness."

"I refuse." You turned away from Sora and busied yourself, caressing Hanni's tiny fist. "Your mum is cruel, isn't she, little one?"

Sora rolled her eyes and huffed, "It's for her sake, you know. Can't you see my situation now? I'm an orphan. My parents died when I could barely say a full sentence."

Sora always felt she inherited the curse of her parents dying young. It was unfair to disregard this thought as she was sure Hanni would be the lonely one carrying the burden once it happened.

"I'm assigning legal guardians for my child. Niccolo is number one, but I can't be too complacent." Sora released a deep breath. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing that her husband was crazy in love with her. It felt like he was willing to follow her even in death.

"Hear that, Hanni? Your mum is giving you away. Say bad, mummy, bad!" You carried Hanni into your arms while glaring at Sora. You couldn't believe your best friend traveled to Seoul with her little child just to say this bullshit.

"Stop being so dramatic," Sora lost count of how many times she had rolled her eyes. "It's not like I'm giving her to a stranger."

"Huh." You wiped Hanni's drool before casting a curious look at her mom, "Who are you naming her guardian, then? Jongsuk and Ji-eun?"

"Nope." Sora sounded disappointed. "I wanted to, but you know how busy they are with their two kids."

"Jongsuk is fucking rich. I'm sure they can afford to feed one more kid." You decided to humor Sora after realizing you couldn't change her mind.

Unfortunately, Sora deflated. "You bet. They have three more children coming."

"What the fuck?" You laid Hanni back in her crib, afraid you'd drop her after Sora dropped a bomb on you. "Are you telling me Ji-eun is pregnant again? And triplets?"

Sora's grin was wide. She wiggled her brows in excitement.

You were dumbfounded. "Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with Jongsuk!?"

Didn't Ji-eun just give birth last year!? What did Jongsuk plan on doing?

"Ah, duh? Have you seen Ji-eun? If I were Jongsuk, I'd do the same."

You pondered for a second. It didn't take you long to agree with your best friend. Damn right, Ji-eun was hot. If you didn't have the unfortunate curse of liking straight men, you bet you'd be pursuing Ji-eun relentlessly. She wasn't just a pretty face. Ji-eun was tantamount to what people called 'The Man.' Perhaps even better than the phrase.

Suddenly, you understood why a certain someone was head over heels with her.

"You're thinking about Jungkook, aren't you?"

You whipped your head up and met Sora's teasing eyes. You were about to refute her absurdity, but she beat you to it.

"Don't deny it. I know your 'I'm thinking about Jungkook' face. It's so obvious! Your brows become one, and your frown couldn't be any deeper!"

"That's right," you relaxed a little. "It's cause I hate him. I can't even crack a fake smile whenever I think about his stupid face."

Your disgusted face wasn't fooling anyone, though. But Sora didn't expose you. She just riled you up, "Well, at least his stupid face is popular with girls. Did you know? Niccolo has been setting Jungkook up with his foreign friends. Ah! Right!" The spark in her eyes was blinding.

"Jungkook has a blind date tonight. I've heard he's meeting a supermodel from Italy. She's the same—hey, hey! What are you doing!?"

Sora's eyes dilated upon seeing you gripping her baby's toy tightly. She snatched it from you and gasped, "What's gotten you so worked up? You broke Hanni's toy! This is her favorite!" And Jungkook was the one who gave the baby that toy. Sora didn't dare tell you as you might destroy it further.

You wouldn't do it, though. You actually felt guilty for letting out your inexplicable anger to the toy, "Sorry. I'd buy Hanni a new one, yeah?"

"You better!" Sora let it go and went back to drafting her will. She continued pestering you about some law jargon until your head hurt.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop now." Sora put the documents inside a brown box and handed it to you. "Here it is. My final will. I'm giving it to you for safekeeping."

"Huh," you snorted but still accepted the box. You handed Sora a similar package. "I gave you a Christmas present, and I get your will in return? Unfair."

You couldn't help but toss the brown box under your bed. You hoped there wouldn't be a time when you'd be forced to open that damn box.

Sora's eyes creased, "I'll buy you the prettiest present next time, okay?" Then she kissed your cheek, "Thanks for this lovely shirt! I love it so much."

"White suits you the most." You're like my angel, Sora. "I got mine in black so we could match."

"Cool!" Sora turned to her daughter. "You hear that, Hanni? Your Godmother wants to match with me. You need to find someone like her in the future, okay?"

Hanni giggled as if she understood her mother. It warmed your heart seeing them like this. Unfortunately, this precious moment would soon be taken away from them.

Come to think of it, everything that transpired three years ago was like a sick premonition of what would happen tonight. Wasn't it funny? Sora died wearing the clothes you'd gifted her, and now here you were, forced to open the brown box you hated with passion.

Sora prepared everything. Inside the box were her will and handwritten letters for her daughter and friends. Unsurprisingly, she didn't leave a note for Niccolo.

It's like Sora knew.

"I hate you," you whimpered lowly as you hugged Sora's letter. I hate you for leaving me. I hate you for being right. I hate you. I hate you so much, Kang Sora.

***

Since Sora was an orphan, Taehyung, as her friend, was qualified to make the arrangements for her and her husband's remains. This was also because he was the one who registered their death after Doctor Kim Seokjin announced the time of their passing.

Jungkook wanted to help Taehyung out, but Taehyung said he could handle it himself and that it would be better for Jungkook to care for Hanni instead.

Hanni was at home with her temporary babysitter. Niccolo was a chef at his restaurant, while Sora was the head manager there. They usually didn't have enough time to care for Hanni, so they hired a nighttime caregiver for their kid. Hanni attended daycare in the morning, which was one less worry for her parents.

The babysitter's shift ended a few hours ago, though. Jungkook had no choice but to rush to the Kang' residence.

Jungkook had an apology ready at the tip of his tongue and thousands of won to appease the babysitter for working overtime. He was surprised when he didn't see the cute babysitter and instead saw a temptress wearing a suit.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook spat as he raised his guard up. Who else could he be talking to besides you? You were the only person who could annoy him until steam came off his ears.

Weren't you just at the police station? Jungkook quickly glanced at his wristwatch. The time was 10:15pm. You arrived to wreak havoc in the interrogation room at around 9:00pm. Were you that good of a lawyer to escape Captain Yoongi's inquest in just an hour?

Looking at you, it seemed you had been here for quite some time now. Hanni happily snuggled in your arms while sucking on her milk bottle. The baby looked sleepy, unaware that her parents had already crossed the afterlife road.

Jungkook felt his heart tighten. Did you go here to use Hanni as leverage to help free those damned murderers? Thinking about your menacing schemes, Jungkook couldn't help but raise his hand to snatch Hanni away from your embrace.

"Let go of Hanni now!" Jungkook gnashed his teeth, deliberating on calling the police on you, but then he remembered he was also a police officer. Right. If he wanted to, he could arrest you for using an innocent kid to your advantage.

"Will you stop being so dramatic?" you recognized Jungkook's intention, so you rolled your eyes at his stupidity. You also laid Hanni back inside her crib but didn't do it to appease Jungkook. It was because your arms were starting to get numb from carrying her—not to mention that your chest was covered in Hanni's spilled milk, too.

Jungkook's line of sight focused on your chest, not knowing what to make out of it as you gently wipe the milk with your bare hand.

You pretended not to see him swallowing thickly and struggling to look away from you. "Relax, will you? Your tiny brain might not comprehend it, but I'm telling you now. I am not here to harm Hanni. I'm her godparent, after all—just like you."

Your busy work schedule did not allow you to see Hanni all the time, but Sora made sure to video call you whenever she had the chance. Frankly speaking, seeing your goddaughter after a tiring day calmed you down. Hanni was your sweet butterfly. You loved her to death.

"And for the record, I am not representing Gabi and Falco in court."

Your sharp tone made Jungkook stop. His intense gaze studied you. This time, your face wasn't devoid of emotions. He could see fire in your eyes—as if you were ready to burn anyone who dared oppose you.

"T-Then," Jungkook's Adam's apple bobbed, "Why'd you destroy my evidence?" It took him hours to force confessions out of those bastards. He doubted that was enough as Falco and Gabi kept protecting each other, but still...

"How are you even a police lieutenant? Did Chief Kim bump his head before promoting you?"

Jungkook was offended and wanted to argue, but you gave him no chance.

"The evidence you've gathered is inadmissible to court. It's fucking illegal, idiot. Those brats could've filed a case against you if I hadn't destroyed the evidence of your idiocy."

Simply put, you had protected Jungkook from incrimination. "What happened to the Jungkook I know? Didn't you always hate Jongsuk Lee for being a suicidal maniac?"

The Idiot Quartet was good friends with Jongsuk and Ji-eun, too. You had known them since childhood. If your group was called the Idiot Quartet, then Ji-eun, Jongsuk, and Jimin were known as the Powerhouse Trio. The three were good in academics and sports, but Jongsuk fell short of a good attitude. Jongsuk was ridiculously impatient that he would not hesitate to charge recklessly, even at the expense of his life. Jongsuk was a police officer like Jungkook. It was just that Chief Namjoon Kim assigned Jongsuk to the special operation squad.

Jongsuk was a sore spot for Jungkook as it seemed like whatever Jungkook wanted, Jongsuk had.

Truth be told, Jungkook scoffed at the mention of Jongsuk's name. He glared at you, "I'm nothing like that suicidal maniac. Don't compare me to him."

You shrugged and did not push it. Fighting Jungkook tonight was not worthy of your time. There was a more pressing issue to discuss.

"Anyway, I'm not involved with Gabi and Falco anymore. You can rest assured."

Jungkook didn't want to fight you either. He was tired. He only wanted to honor his dead best friend. "It's good that you didn't completely stray the wrong path."

Surprisingly, the seed of hatred Jungkook planted in his heart had been dug up at the speed of light. You see, he wasn't muddle-headed like you claimed. Jungkook got irritated by your mere presence and sharp mouth, but hating someone without apparent reason was beyond him.

Maybe he could trust you? Thinking about this, Jungkook tried to push his luck, "So, if you aren't going to be those brats' lawyer, does it mean you came here to represent Sora and Niccolo?"

You just said you did not want to fight him, but on God, was he testing your patience. It took everything in you not to mock him, "I am a defense lawyer, smart-ass. This is a criminal case; it's those brats against the general public. Sora and Niccolo must be represented by a prosecutor. I trust you know the difference between a pro—"

"I know! I get it already. Stop it." Jungkook's cheeks turned crimson when he realized his mistake. His brain must have short-circuited because of the awkwardness and the milk on your chest—damn it, there was still traces of milk in your cleavage.

Jungkook forced himself to look away, making the corner of your lips turn up.

"It's Ji-eun." You said abruptly and without context. Jungkook looked at you, confused.

You sighed, "Ji-eun is a prosecutor, which I'm guessing you're very familiar with."

Of course, Jungkook knew precisely what Ji-eun did for a living. It was the main reason Jungkook fell in love with Ji-eun—he thought she was cool for upholding justice.

Jungkook had this illusion that he and Ji-eun complemented each other, mainly because both their line of work involved helping ordinary people. It was the complete opposite of what you do. In Jungkook's vocabulary, you were a scum—defending criminals who ruined the balance of the world.

"I called Ji-eun earlier. She agreed, but we have yet to discuss the details. The legalities of the case can be postponed for now. There's something urgent we need to address first." Jungkook recognized the seriousness in your tone. He furrowed a brow and listened to you intently.

"Sora named me as the executor of her will." Your face turned solemn, side glancing at Hanni, who was sound asleep. Your heart ached for her. "She has written notes to everyone, including us."

Jungkook watched you pick up a brown box on the floor. That's when he noticed the suitcase next to it.

Wait—Jungkook's eyes shrunk. Is that your suitcase?

His question was soon answered when you handed Sora's letter to him. Jungkook immediately tore it open, skimming through its contents.

His eyes widened comically upon reading the most ridiculous request of all times:

Sora was leaving Hanni in your and Jungkook's care.

What the fuck.

***

Taehyung felt floating as he took the way to Sora's house. It was past ten in the evening, meaning it took him hours to arrange Sora and Niccolo's funeral.

He was physically exhausted from having to go from place to place. Fortunately, he had a bit of time to rest since Sora and Niccolo's bodies were still at the mortuary. Taehyung thought he'd check up on Hanni first, then ask Jungkook to tidy the Kang' residence to make it a decent place to hold the wake. Sadly, Taehyung's plans went haywire as soon as he stepped inside the house.

"Oh, yeah? Why don't you tell that to yourself, you mama's boy!? I'm not the one who has an Oedipus complex!"

Taehyung watched as Jungkook's complexion turned red because of anger. He rolled the sleeves of his police uniform, seemingly ready to fight you.

"Well, fuck you and your mommy issues. Just admit you're jealous I have a kind mom. It's not my fault your mom only loves you whenever you achieve something that will boost her ego!"

Violence was never the answer, but you couldn't help but pick up one of Hanni's toys and throw it at Jungkook's broad chest. You screamed at him, "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" He was hitting you where it hurt.

"No, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Jungkook threw the question back at you. You were the one who pissed him off first.

Sadly, Taehyung did not care whose fault it was. He just wanted this petty fight to end, so he screamed before you or Jungkook started going at each other again.

"What the hell is happening here?" Taehyung was the type of friend who goofed around a lot, though no one could deny he was the most scary when angered. Just the sound of his voice was enough to stain your and Jungkook's back with cold sweat. Almost at once, Jungkook kept his mouth shut.

Conversely, you smiled awkwardly at Taehyung and acted oblivious, "Hi, Taehyung. Didn't see you there."

Jungkook held back a scoff at how fast you changed your annoying tone to a saccharine one. Your eyes even crinkled with fondness. Damn it. You were such a great pretender! Weren't you just acting like a dragon and breathing fire in Jungkook's direction? Taehyung saw it, too, preventing you from escaping this mess.

"How can you see me when you're busy fighting Jungkook again?" Taehyung huffed and shook his head in disappointment, "You two never changed, do you? To think of fighting in the presence of your dead best friend's kid. Have you no shame?"

As said, it was common knowledge not to anger Taehyung, yet no one warned you how scary he was when he couldn't bring himself to be angry anymore. Right now, Taehyung was just tired of your bullshit.

Remorse seeped into your heart. Truth be told, you knew where Taehyung was coming from. You and Jungkook were both adults, yet you failed to act like one. You didn't even know how your fight started. All you remembered was Jungkook vehemently opposing Sora's decision to leave Hanni to you and his care.

He thought you were undeserving of looking after a small child. You got mad, saying he had high expectations for female guardians because of his weird relationship with his mother.

Of course, it wasn't true. But you were so pissed you couldn't stop spouting nonsense. Truthfully, you could have gone forever with your insults had it not been for Taehyung's arrival.

"Don't take it seriously, Taehyung. We're just fooling around to cheer up Hanni. We thought some loud noises would divert her attention to something else." Jungkook added unhelpfully.

Taehyung pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at Hanni, who was sleeping peacefully: "...."

"Haha," You laughed in embarrassment and were forced to playfully smack Jungkook's biceps. "See? Our loudness helped Hanni sleep. Didn't Sora always sing her a goodnight song? We did it too!"

"Yes!" Jungkook gathered some files on the floor. The both of you had thrown them in the midst of fighting. The Kang' residence was a mess because of you two's silliness.

"Anyway, didn't you say the wake will be held here? Why don't you rest first? We'll take it from here. Right, Jungkook?"

Taehyung watched the two of you for a while before resigning to the guest room. He heard your whispered sighs but didn't mind as you quickly resolved it with a temporary truce.

Taehyung sighed and looked at the white ceiling. The tears he had repressed all night finally cascaded down his cheeks.

He sobbed quietly and thought about the dead, "You really have idiots as your best friends, Sora."

***

Sora and Niccolo's wake would be held for one day only. Tomorrow was the scheduled funeral, so all the departed's friends gathered at the Kang' residence for the final goodbye. You and Jungkook behaved this time—your temporary truce helped you welcome the guests without hiccups.

Ji-eun and Jongsuk arrived in the morning with their five children. It was a blessing in disguise, really. Jongsuk took care of the kids, including Hanni, while you and Ji-eun discussed the legalities of the case filed against Gabi and Falco. Captain Yoongi joined the discussion, too.

Yoongi lived in your neighborhood as well. He used to teach kids your age some self-defense tricks. He was specifically fond of Sora as she made unconventional defenses easier to execute. Looking back, you realize Sora was the glue holding the group together. There were moments you couldn't tolerate the extremity of Captain Yoongi's training, but Sora persuaded you and the others to be more patient and courageous.

"Thanks for doing this, Captain." You smiled softly at Yoongi. He merely raised a brow, drank his tea, and said, "Not a problem. This isn't a formal discussion."

The Captain didn't want to disrespect the solemnity of the wake, so he invited you and Ji-eun to talk in his office after the funeral. He only joined today's talk to say some urgent matters.

"I thought you should know beforehand that we have a strong case, mainly because the incident was captured by cameras. However, we have a formidable opponent. Annie Leonhart is defending those brats in court."

Your stomach knotted with bitterness upon hearing that. Annie Leonhart was indeed a formidable lawyer. However, you couldn't deny that your heart felt at ease when you met Ji-eun's unyielding gaze. Yes, you couldn't forget that this prosecutor never lost a case. She would do Sora justice.

It wouldn't be too difficult as long as dumb people didn't interfere.

Jungkook. Your brain immediately thought of Jungkook as he was the only one you could associate with the word dumb.

Just like now, Jungkook was standing in the corner of the room while staring at your group dumbly—scratch that, it was obvious he had his puppy eyes focused on Ji-eun.

You rolled your eyes. Of fucking course. How could you forget that this dumbass was in love with Prosecutor Lee? Did the fact that she was already married ever stop Jungkook from pining after Ji-eun? No.

"Attorney, Captain, will you excuse me for a moment?" You gritted your teeth while your gaze was still trained on Jungkook. The two Mins did not hold you back, making it easier for you to instantly trudge over Jungkook's direction.

"Hey, loser. I wanted to quote Article 333 of the family code for you, but then I remembered Ji-eun will never commit adultery, more so if it's with your sorry ass." You smirked at Jungkook, rage still boiling within you.

You were not the only one annoyed, though. Jungkook looked at you in disbelief; his eyebrows pinched together as he huffed, "What is it this time? I'm not doing anything!"

"You're not fooling anyone here, asshole. Don't think for a moment that I don't see you looking pathetically at Mrs. Lee."

"The heck are you on?"

"That you're in love with Ji-eun? That's the only reason why you're looking in our direction." You rolled your eyes, looking smug. "Unless you had a change of heart and are now pining after Captain Yoongi—which I'm not opposed to, by the way. I'm all for gay rights. You might be too late, though. I think he's a little too in love with your Chief Police Kim."

You shook your head in pity for Jungkook. Ji-eun and Yoongi were cousins. Why did Jungkook seem to only like Mins, who were already in love with someone else?

"Will you shut up?" Jungkook's jaw ticked. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He looked panicked.

You snickered, "Oh, no. Is Jungkook-boy shy—"

"I'm looking at you, damn it!" Jungkook seized your wrist and pulled you closer to him. From the outside's point of view, it looked like Jungkook was some gang leader bullying a helpless girl. But that's the thing. Only his looks were imposing—Jungkook's grey suit perfectly hugged his toned body. His hairstyle drastically changed since your teenage years, too. Per the police officer standard, Jungkook was now sporting an undercut that made his jaw look more chiseled. His aura was intimidating, but only you knew how gently he had pulled you close to his body.

Jungkook whispered into your ears, "I'm worried, alright? I need your help. Can you see those two women sitting by the window? They've been here since morning, and they're watching you and me—us. I don't seem to recall their faces. Sora and Niccolo were not related to them in any way either."

Jungkook had met the people around the married couple. He knew even the customers in Sora and Niccolo's restaurant. This was the first time Jungkook was seeing these women.

You were alerted, too. It was uncommon for strangers to attend the departed's wake, so these two women could either be from Falco and Gabi's side or...

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization. Unfortunately, before you could warn Jungkook, the two ladies had already noticed your gaze and immediately walked in your direction.

"Hi there. My name is Frieda, and this is my coworker, Ms. Kiyomi. We're social workers assigned by the local government to check on orphans."

"It's nice to meet you." Thankfully, you had no problems switching gears. Being a lawyer taught you to fake pleasantries despite shaking on the inside. As expected, these two women were social workers here to see Hanni's condition. Regrettably, you had failed to discuss this earlier with Jungkook.

"I know this is not the best time to visit, but we're just concerned about the little girl. Hanni, that's her name, right?" Kiyomi was an old woman who appeared strict and conservative. Her smile made your eyes twitch. "I take it you're the host of this wake. Do you mind sharing with us if Mr. Niccolo and his wife assigned a legal guardian for Hanni?"

"Legal guardians, actually." You mirrored Kiyomi's smile. "I'm the family's lawyer and Sora's childhood best friend. She has left her notarized will with me. I can send you both the hard and soft copy any time."

"That's good to hear," Frieda answered, "But right now, we want to personally meet the assigned guardians. Where is Hanni, by the way?"

"Hanni is sleeping in her room with SWAT officer Lee's children, right, babe?"

"Huh?" Jungkook asked dumbly when he felt your hand encircling his biceps. To say he was shocked by your term of endearment would be an understatement because what the fuck? Did you just call him babe?

"A little absentminded, are we?" You chuckled awkwardly and pinched Jungkook's biceps 'lovingly' Damn, was he ripped. "Forgive my fiancé, lovely ladies. He's just a bit tired after pulling an all-nighter to arrange our best friends' wake and trying to pacify little Hanni."

"Oh," Kiyomi's eyes lit up. "You're the assigned guardians, I suppose?"

"Yes, we are." You felt Jungkook stiffen when you leaned your head onto his biceps. You originally wanted to lean on his shoulder, but he was too tall. You guessed it didn't matter as long as you had skin contact with Jungkook.

Kiyomi didn't seem to be convinced, though. Her keen eyes wandered over yours and Jungkook's empty ring fingers.

"Ah!" You grabbed Jungkook's left hand and intertwined your fingers with his. "We removed our engagement rings for now. You know, Hanni's at the age where she just likes sucking onto everything. You can't have a kid swallowing a diamond, can you?"

The two women laughed at your lame joke. Meanwhile, Jungkook's face still couldn't be painted. Every part of his being urged him to push you away, but he had a hunch that would be unwise.

Jungkook looked at the two ladies before side-eyeing you. He felt like losing to a sick game, which didn't sit well with him. Jungkook hated it when you were one step ahead, so he played your game despite not knowing the rules.

He grabbed your interlaced fingers and kissed them. "Don't worry, hon. The ring is just for aesthetic purposes. I am still yours without it."

"Oh, my. What a lovely couple!" Kiyomi finally fell into your gimmick. She rubbed her chest as if what she saw warmed her heart, "It's getting late. People are coming, why don't you go and welcome them? Frieda and I are just leaving."

You calmed your beating heart before answering the old lady, "Don't you wanna see Hanni first?"

Frieda and Kiyomi fell silent and seemed to be hesitant. Hearing SWAT officer Lee's name actually scared them. They were afraid of offending Jongsuk. Kids were especially fussy when their nap was disturbed, yes?

"No need. We have already imposed too much. Why don't we schedule a meeting after the funeral?" Frieda raised her brow.

"Sounds lovely. Wait a second. We'll give you our contact information."

The two social workers finally left after exchanging contact details and a few more pleasantries. Your hand was still enveloped by Jungkook's big, warm hand. He took this as an opportunity to lightly drag you into an empty room.

"What the hell just happened there?" For someone who's confused, Jungkook sure enjoyed holding your hand. His grip tightened when you laughed mockingly.

"You called me hon—cringe, by the way—but you can't grasp what happened there? Are you for real?"

"Just answer the damn question!" Jungkook's ears were red. He swore he wasn't stupid. You were just making him appear to be like that. "And as if you're any better. Calling me babe, really? And fiancé? Who the hell wants to marry you!?"

"Let go!" You wriggled out of his grasp, yet Jungkook did not let you go. He pulled you close to him and stared at you intently.

"No." Jungkook jutted his chin. "Not unless you explain what that was all about."

Looking at Jungkook's eyes made you shudder. You knew him. He was stubborn. Seeing the determination in his eyes, you realized it was wise not to tease him any further. Jungkook was many things, but he never joked about romantic feelings. Call it old school, but he already regretted playing your game. How could he forget how much of a menace you were?

"I'm not making fun of you, alright? I had to pretend we're lovers, for Hanni's sake." You explained to Jungkook that most social workers were vicious when doing their jobs. Kiyomi was an old lady. Of course, she'd prefer to see Hanni with a loving and complete family as her guardians. She had the power to manipulate the judge's decision. You were afraid she would suggest assigning Hanni to strangers who could give her an illusion of a 'happy family.'

"So are you saying we have to pretend we're dating in front of those social workers?" Jungkook wasn't unreasonable. He was willing to hear your ridiculous idea if this meant keeping Hanni in a safe space.

"Well," you sighed in lament. "Not just in front of the social workers, unfortunately. Kiyomi and Frieda might interview anyone in our circle. It will be bad if they find out we're lying, worse, that we hate each other."

"I don't hate you, though." Jungkook's response was immediate. He creased his forehead as if not understanding what you said. "But I find you extremely annoying."

"The feeling is mutual." You exerted all your energy to wriggle out of his grasp.

Jungkook smirked and thought of getting back at you for getting him all flustered before those social workers, "Eh? Are you getting sick of my touch already? Careful. We might have to do more than hold hands to convince people we're to be married."

"You are so..." You trailed off because of irritation. "Irrational and a hypocrite! Don't you hate faking romantic things with me?" And aren't you in love with Ji-eun?

Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly; a smirk was still plastered on his lips. "I adapt fast. I can tolerate your annoying face, for Hanni's sake."

He pinched your cheek.

You slapped his hand away and squared your shoulders. Damn you, Jungkook Jeon.

"Bring it on, then."

***

Bullshit.

Your claim against Jungkook to 'bring it on" was complete and utter bullshit. Not only was it difficult, but it was also unrealistic and close to being impossible. Truthfully, you two did not feel it at once, mainly because you were busy with the funeral and had your other friends help you with Hanni.

Now, however...

"Terni, I'm sorry," Hanni's bright eyes glistened with tears as she stared at you. She was only three, but surprisingly, she could already pronounce words clearly—except maybe the word attorney.

Sora told her daughter to call you 'Attorney' so the little one could brag to people about having a cool godmother who was a lawyer. Hanni was an intelligent child. Admittedly, you suspected she could actually pronounce the word attorney correctly. She simply preferred calling you Terni as it was cuter and perhaps because it was easier to escape your wrath.

Hanni accidentally spilled a full glass of her favorite chocolate drink on your work documents. These were all related to the cases you told your secretary to cancel when you found out Sora died. Unfortunately, your words held no weight as you still needed to take on these cases—whether you wanted to or not. Besides, your mourning period was coming to an end. Sora and Niccolo had found their resting place already. Your only worry was Hanni and your pending cases.

"It's okay, darling." The side of your upper lip twitched while you threw the files in the trash bin. You kept reminding yourself that lashing out at a three-year-old kid was unreasonable.

'But it's not unreasonable to displace your anger to a certain police lieutenant.' The voice inside your head supplied. You smirked, feeling enlightened. Obviously, you were going to listen to the voice. Every chance you got to annoy Jungkook was gold.

"Why don't I put you in your crib first? Terni will just talk to Jungkook-boy, okay?"

Because she knew she was at fault here, Hanni nodded and let you carry her back to her room. The Kang' residence was quite big. You, Hanni, and Jungkook each had your own rooms. The master bedroom remained untouched, though. You didn't have the heart to invade the late couple's personal space. Besides, you were only temporarily residing here. This was not your house, and Hanni was not your child—you weren't even fully recognized by the court as Hanni's guardian. This could all be taken away from you sooner or later.

It was better not to get attached and keep things as they were. Taking this into consideration, you went to the kitchen to annoy Jungkook. Unfortunately, you were only able to say a few words before your face and mind blanked out. Clearly, no one prepared you on how to react seeing Jungkook buzzing around the kitchen while washing dishes—the same dishes you and Hanni used for breakfast this morning.

Jungkook wore washing gloves; soap suds painted his left cheek while pots and plates surrounded him.

"What'd you say again?" Jungkook spared you a glance, washing the mug you used for coffee earlier.

You swallowed thickly and forced your eyes away from the dishes. You originally wanted to chastise him for slacking off and not bringing Hanni to the daycare center on time. If Hanni was at the daycare, then your files wouldn't get soaked up in a chocolate drink in the first place. You couldn't blame him now, could you? Not when he was busy cleaning the kitchen after preparing breakfast for you and Hanni.

In your defense, you did not ask him to cook for you, too. You woke up with the smell of pancakes, bacon, and eggs wafting inside your room. Of course, you got up to scold him for not turning on the exhaust hood.

"You're awake?" You remembered Jungkook raising a brow upon seeing you. Hanni was already sitting on her high chair; her mouth was watering because of how good her breakfast smelled. "Come on, join us for breakfast."

You swallowed the insults at the tip of your tongue as Jungkook placed two big plates and a small one on the table.

"I don't eat breakfast," you said indifferently. It was true. When you reach your office, your secretary will have a cup of macadamia-flavored coffee ready. That was the only thing you had for breakfast. It had probably been years since you'd eaten anything solid during the morning.

Jungkook seemed to misunderstand your response, though. He thought you just didn't like to eat what he cooked. He taunted you, "There's no poison here, Empress. Your lowly male concubines have tasted the food for you."

To demonstrate, Jungkook swallowed a spoonful of bacon and pancakes.

"You're mistaken. You are no concubine of mine." You sneered but took a seat to eat. "You're merely my eunuch."

Teenager Jungkook would have turned red-faced and just cussed you out, but he grew up, and those blind dates with countless supermodels had improved his confidence. Jungkook pressed his hand on the table and peered down at you. His broad chest was inches away from your face.

"Now, that would be misleading, Empress. Can a eunuch have this?" He didn't use words, merely gesturing toward himself, particularly on the lower portion of his body.

The teenager you would have turned pissed and just cussed Jungkook out, but despite maturing into an adult woman, you still couldn't handle jokes like this, causing your face to turn scPark.

Jungkook chuckled at your reaction but didn't push you anymore. He liked pressing your buttons, though not to the point of making you uncomfortable. He was not an ass.

"Let's just eat, alright?"

Jungkook happily agreed and put some food on your plate. You merely glanced at it before playing it cool by opening up another topic, "It's your turn to send Hanni to daycare today, right? Her class is at 7am. Her teacher said she could go back to class but is welcome to extend her break."

Hanni's parents just died, after all. Besides, it wasn't a formal school. The daycare was established as a consideration for children who had working parents.

"Yes, I'll bathe her today. too, then we'll go to the center after." Jungkook smeared maple syrup on Hanni's pancakes. He had added finely cut grapes on top of it as he was afraid Hanni would choke on the circled fruit.

"Good. I'll finish some work today," you said as a form of respect.

You and Jungkook decided to co-parent Hanni and see if you could commit to it. Jungkook was assigned to take care of Hanni from Monday to Wednesday. Meanwhile, your schedule was from Thursday to Saturday. This included sending Hanni to school, feeding, bathing, and playing with her. Sunday was your only free day, as Hanni would be in the care of your friends. Captain Yoongi and Chief Namjoon said they'd bring Hanni out to play this Sunday.

It was a relief, really. You need to go back to Seoul this Sunday to finish some work and formally announce to your subordinates and clients that you will be moving to Busan for the time being. Your schedule this week was jampacked. Fortunately, Kiyomi and Frieda postponed the meeting and said they would inform you at their earliest convenience. As it turned out, those social workers weren't utterly heartless as they intended to give you and Jungkook a breather until the settlement of Sora and Niccolo's case.

Right. That was another concern of yours. You turned to Jungkook, "What time is your lunch break? I'm meeting up with Prosecutor Lee and Captain Yoongi this afternoon. Wanna join us?"

You and Jungkook played well when you were teaming up instead of being rivals. He shook his head in lament, "I can't. I have to finish some work at the station too. Just fill me in with the details later."

"Alright." You continued eating after that. Surprisingly, the breakfast with Hanni and Jungkook went well. Your morning would have been perfect hadn't been for Hanni messing up your files—which led you back to staring dumbly at Jungkook, who was still busy cleaning up the kitchen.

It was past seven in the morning. You were busy working and weren't able to track time. "Didn't you say you would send Hanni to daycare today? Why haven't you?"

"Oh." Jungkook scratched the back of his head. "I called the teacher and informed her that Hanni isn't coming today." Jungkook let Hanni walk around the house and find you. He guessed it was his fault for having too much confidence in a three-year-old kid. Of course, giving Hanni a chocolate drink wasn't a guarantee that she would be able to tell you she wasn't going to school today. Jungkook was too much of a pussy to tell you himself. He knew how you were when working. You would breathe fire at him for disturbing you.

"Why, though?" You puffed out air, "We can't keep doing this, you know? Hanni needs to socialize with other people." It wasn't that you wanted Hanni to forget her parents, but lately, Hanni had been asking where her mum and dad went. You and Jungkook hadn't discussed a healthy way to go over such a sensitive topic. Besides, you and Jungkook were working adults who needed time to do their jobs. You couldn't spend all day looking after Hanni.

"I know, but she sneezed twice this morning. It's already so cold outside. What if she catches the flu?"

"Oh, my gosh, you overprotective dumbass." You rolled your eyes at Jungkook, but the latter shrugged it off. You could call him whatever you wanted. However, he couldn't risk his goddaughter getting sick.

"I'll go to work in a while and drop by Hanni's doctor after my shift. I'll inquire about her medical records and see if we can get her a flu vaccine. Don't worry," Jungkook's eyes were thoughtful. "It's Monday, so I'll take care of everything myself. You can go to work today. I'll just text you if something comes up."

The day wasn't even halfway done, but you found yourself agreeing to Jungkook without a need for a fight. This was new, and you found it surprisingly refreshing.

"Fine." You acquiesced as the urge to blame him for your soaked files disappeared. Maybe you were wrong—maybe, just maybe, co-parenting Hanni with Jungkook wasn't as bad as you imagined.

***

Your afternoon turned out to be hectic, so the meeting with the two Mins was pushed to 3pm. Captain Yoongi invited you to a tea shop as it was quieter there.

"I personally think we have no shot in filing a murder case against those brats." Chamomile tea wasn't enough to calm you down as you looked at the crime pictures again.

Sora was sprawled on the cold ground; the pool of blood made you wanna puke. It didn't help that Ji-eun was drinking a strawberry-flavored tea.

"You're right. Given the elements of a murder, two are not present. Mens rea and actus rus," Ji-eun voiced out the legal terms. According to Captain Yoongi, Gabi and Falco gave consistent explanations during the interrogation. It was similar to what they told your secretary.

The teens did not intend to kill Sora and her husband. They were merely trying throttle therapy, which, unfortunately, went wrong.

Falco said he switched lanes to avoid crashing into a car maneuvering into a U-turn. It just happened that Sora and Niccolo were crossing the street before Falco could step on the break.

"I think that's what Jungkook did when he forced confessions from the brats. He wanted them to admit to murdering Sora and Niccolo so they could get the maximum penalty. However, I can tell it was an accident. We can only file for reckless imprudence resulting in multiple homicides." Captain Yoongi held his cup tightly, an indication that he was angry at what happened but couldn't do anything about it.

"That's my plan, but I think Annie Leonhart will reduce her clients' charges to manslaughter."

Manslaughter? Yoongi's brow creased. He wasn't a lawyer, so naturally, he couldn't immediately follow the logic behind the prosecutor's words.

You explained it to him, "It means Annie is a bitch, Captain. Based on my assumption, I bet she'll fake some medical records and say Falco took some kind of drug to help with his mental health issues." She would make it appear that Falco was unaware the drug given to him could cause hallucinations, confusion, and probably a loss of energy. "Or she'll have the clients' families pay a random person to confess tampering with Falco's car, hence the break not working. Either way, Attorney Leonhart will find a scapegoat and make it appear that what Gabi and Falco did was unintentional."

"You're so familiar with these tactics, aren't you?" Yoongi knitted his brow. In return, you tilted your head to the side as if to show a 'what can I say' attitude. The Captain was not wrong. You were also familiar with the techniques you mentioned because you were a defense lawyer.

Ji-eun wasn't bothered. She figured out the logic behind your tactics. She clasped her hands and said, "Captain Yoongi called me on the day of the incident. I've sent some people to subject Falco and Gabi to medical examinations. No need to fret. The results will show if they've taken any drugs. There were two more independent examiners, so they can't accuse us of faking the results."

Good. Your shoulders relaxed upon hearing that. Ji-eun continued, "We must pay attention to the other excuse Annie might choose." Prosecutor Lee emphasized how affluent the Braun and Grice families were. It would be easy for them to fake 'dispute' with people, forcing them to tamper with the car Falco drove. "Captain, my cousin-in-law is good friends with this case's judge, correct? I need your help with evidence submitted before the trial. I need time to study the witnesses, too."

"Cousin-in-law?" Ji-eun said many things, but this was the only thing Yoongi grasped. The Captain was not married yet. Who could Ji-eun be referring to as her cousin-in-law?

"Chief Police Namjoon Kim." Prosecutor Lee said with a face vacant of any emotions that even the hard-to-faze Yoongi almost spit his tea. You laughed heartily. Oh, men and their poor attempt to conceal their feelings. It was hilarious when boys fell in love. They looked like idiots who seemed to forget how to navigate life.

"Namjoon is not your cousin-in-law...yet," Yoongi cleared his throat. "But yes, he will be...helping you with anything you need with the case. Just send either one of us a text or go to our house. Make sure to bring Rin when you visit."

Rin was Ji-eun and Jongsuk's eldest son and Yoongi's favorite. He spoiled that kid rotten. You adored that kid, too. Admittedly, your topic switched to the Lee kids, and you also took this time to ask Ji-eun for tips on caring for a small child.

The sun had already set by the time your meeting ended. A fond smile was still plastered on your lips long after the Ji-eun and Yoongi left, but it didn't take long for your smile to disappear once you heard your phone buzz.

Someone had sent you a message. The number wasn't saved in your contacts, but the previous messages gave you a clue about who it was.

Unknown number:

Seoul is colder now that you're not here. I miss you.

You stared at the message for some time, then sighed as if accepting defeat. You scrolled through your contacts and called the one named 'Eunuch Jungkook.'

"What can I do for you, Empress?" Jungkook answered after two rings. His tone carried some teasing, which eased your heart a little.

"Something came up. I'm going back to Seoul tonight. My secretary said she needs help—"

"Alright," Jungkook responded softly before you could finish your excuse. You did not need to explain to him. Jungkook understood your line of work. He couldn't hold it against you. Besides, it's Monday. He could care for Hanni himself. "Just text me when you'll be back. And don't you dare forget to bring back some monjayaki for me and Hanni!"

"Fine, fine." You rolled your eyes, feigning irritation. "I'll see you soon."

"Good. Take care." Jungkook had you talk to Hanni for a few minutes before hanging up. After that, you booked a car to drive you back to Seoul. This was better than a subway. After all, you need to conserve energy to talk to that one person.

You sighed. This would definitely be a long night...

***

Mina bombarded you with workloads the second you stepped foot in your office in Seoul.

"I'm sorry, Attorney." Mina was apologetic when she handed you the documents. "You need to attend to one more hearing tomorrow."

"Another business dispute?" You looked at your secretary in disbelief. Seriously? All the cases you have been handling these past couple of days were related to businesses dealing with trademark infringement and violating the labor code. It was a surprise that these business owners still trusted you. Admittedly, you thought most of your clients would withdraw now that you didn't have the support of the Braun and Grice families.

"Yes, your client refused to settle as they did not want to pay the amount demanded by the other party."

You scoffed. Those greedy assholes. They had the nerve to ignore the labor law but couldn't face the consequences of their actions?

"Tell my client I'm meeting them in an hour. Either that or they can go find another lawyer." You would 'persuade' them to settle out of court today as you couldn't attend tomorrow's hearing. You were in a hurry to return to Busan since it was already Sunday. Jungkook had been caring for Hanni the whole week, which made you feel guilty. Jungkook had another role he needed to fulfill aside from being Hanni's guardian. What kind of person were you if you kept on holding him back?

Besides, there was still another person you must meet today. Thankfully, you were able to convince your client to settle, although you were not proud of the method you used to persuade them. Eh. You guessed it didn't matter because you finally told Jungkook you were heading back to Busan tonight.

"Who're you texting?" The last person you met tonight was him—him, as in the one who claimed to 'miss you' but whose number was still unregistered to your phone.

"Work," you replied indifferently before switching off your phone. You will read Jungkook's message later. For now, you had to deal with this annoying bastard.

"You'll go back to Busan tonight?" He sounded unhappy. Rico Braun had always been like this—too clingy—too whiny. You'd think he was obsessed with you if you didn't know any better. But that's the thing. You were aware of what kind of guy he was. He liked having a successful woman by his side, someone he could brag to his family and friends. You fit his criteria well—a beautiful woman who worked hard for a better life. It was a bonus that the Braun family liked you for Rico, too.

"I already told you," you pushed Rico's hand that was about to encircle your waist. "I'll be staying in Busan for a while. I only went back here to finish some work and to say some things to you."

Rico's eyes sparkled in anticipation. He claimed to be wise, but he couldn't even detect the coldness in your tone. You did not want him. "I've said this before, and I'm saying this again: whatever romantic idea you have about the two of us will never manifest. I can't be your girlfriend, okay?"

Rico wanted to argue, but you cut him off.

"It's not an invitation for you to ask me to be your wife. I don't like you anymore, Rico." Sometimes, being honest was the only way to save your future self from more trouble. Rico had been bugging you since your college days. There was one time you considered dating him—thinking it was for the better—that a ruthless lawyer like you was perfect for a narcissistic boy like him.

"This is also the last time I'm meeting with you. From now on, do not bother me. Your family is not connected with me anymore, either. They probably hate me." Rico was Gabi's older brother. How this person still had the audacity to meet you after what his sibling did to your best friend was beyond you. "Are we clear on this matter?"

Rico's face was impassive, acting as if the news you dropped did not concern him. He crinkled his eyes, "Well, then. It's getting late. I can't have you take the train at this hour, right? Come. I'll drive you to Busan."

"No need." You were about to walk away, but Rico seized your wrist.

His lips twitched. "I insist. Please? For old time's sake."

There was no winning when it came to this blockhead. You relented when he promised this would be the last time he'd ask to drive you. He said he was going back to the U.S. next week, anyway.

The drive back to Busan was fortunately short. Rico drove safely and did not insist on talking while on the road. You imagined being friends with him after what happened with Sora, but you just couldn't do it.

You and Rico had a fair share of understanding each other before, though all those memories were now buried deep in your heart. You did not want anything to do with them anymore.

"Thanks for the ride." You hopped off Rico's car the second it stopped in front of the Kang' residence. You felt nauseated and couldn't help but feel guilty that someone related to Sora's murderer was here. You used to think guilt by association was nonsensical, but now you understand it was a way to ease an angry person's pain.

"You're welcome." Rico rolled down the window and smiled at you. "Have a good night."

You immediately went inside the house after that short exchange. You and Jungkook both had duplicates of the key's door, so you got inside without calling Jungkook.

It was already late, so Hanni was most likely asleep. Maybe Jungkook retired for the night, too. Thinking about this, you tiptoed inside and made sure not to make any loud noises.

However, you were shocked when you saw Jungkook standing by the floor-length window and looking outside it like some predatory bird.

"Did you promote yourself from being a lowly eunuch to an empress' royal guard?" It was meant to be a sneer, but your tone made it seem like gentle teasing.

Jungkook whipped his head and met your eyes. He was shocked to see you, too. "I'm not waiting for you." He denied vehemently. He even crossed his arms. "I just thought it was Hanni who arrived."

"Oh?" You checked your wristwatch. "It's past nine. Hanni's still not home?"

Jungkook shook his head, "Not yet. Captain Yoongi called. He said Hanni's enjoying herself too much in their home. Apparently, Chief Namjoon built a playground for her." Ji-eun and Jongsuk's children were there too. "Who drove you here? Your secretary? A friend? Your colleague?"

Jungkook saw the flashy car outside and how fast you hopped out of that vehicle. He wondered why. Was it because the driver did something to get you all flustered?

Jungkook found himself clenching his fist. It did not help that you were avoiding his question. Admittedly, you did not want Jungkook to know that Rico drove you here. Luckily, you found a way to divert the topic when you looked at him directly.

"Huh?" You squinted your eyes. You didn't catch it earlier since you were meters away from him, but now you could clearly see the bruise on his face. "Is that a black eye?"

It was Jungkook's turn to avoid your question. He looked away and kept his mouth sealed. What the hell?

"What? Are you playing deaf now? I'm asking you, asshole. Is that a black eye?" You trudged toward him and grabbed his jaw so you could examine his face. You were right. Jungkook had a black eye and a cut in his lips.

Looking at him made your temple hurt. You gritted your teeth in anger.

"What are you up to these days, huh? Did you go around fighting civilians? Aren't you in public service? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It's not a big deal." Jungkook shook his head to wriggle out of your grasp. "There's a guy at the station who pissed me off."

"That's it?" Wow. He was really an idiot. "Do you go around punching people who pissed you off? What about me, then? Since you piss me off so much, should I just punch you to death?"

You pulled Jungkook to sit on the couch and grabbed the first aid kit to clean his wounds. Jungkook was not even bothered with his cuts. He just displayed them as if they were some kind of Christmas decorations.

Jungkook endured how hard you pressed the cotton swab in his face. He was like a docile kid listening to an adult talk. His posture was relaxed, though. Jungkook had his arms spread on the armrest while his legs were wide apart.

"When did this happen, anyway? Did Hanni see you like this? How did she react?" You couldn't bear seeing Hanni cry and questioning why her precious Jungkook-boy was hurt. Hanni was softhearted. How could anyone talk to her about stinky men fighting? It was disgusting.

Jungkook sighed when he realized you would not let it go. "It happened earlier, alright? Captain Yoongi and I met at the police station to discuss something before he went home with Hanni. It's his and the Chief's day off today. Ji-eun dropped by at the station, too. She came bearing bad news..."

Apparently, the one who impounded Falco's car was negligent. He let some people check the vehicle without proper documents. Now, these people were claiming to be car mechanics and that they found Falco's car to have a faulty break.

Damn it. Your premonition had come true. Jungkook was so mad he punched the negligent asshole until he was crying and shaking on the ground. Captain Yoongi saw what happened, so he stopped Jungkook by punching him in the face. He didn't want to, but he had to act 'fair' in front of other police officers. Besides, if he didn't stop Jungkook, there was a big probability that Jungkook would end up killing that negligent officer.

"Why didn't you call me?" You whispered. You couldn't bear to press the cotton swab harder on Jungkook's face after finding out what happened.

"Why?" Jungkook hmphed. " So you can stop me?"

"No." You met his eyes. "So I can punch that asshole too."

Jungkook clearly did not expect that response from you, yet he couldn't help his lips from curling up. Right. You told him before not to worry—you loved Sora so much that you wouldn't let go of those who hurt her.

"Nah," Jungkook shook his head and grabbed your hand. It was close to his lips. You could feel his hot breath on your hand. "You're just gonna hurt your hands. Empresses shouldn't fight lowly people."

Jungkook managed to make you laugh before dropping the bad news to you, "The guy is sent to the hospital and broke a few bones. Serves him right, although..." He smiled in embarrassment, "Captain Yoongi suspended me. I am jobless for a month."

What?

Before you could react, Jungkook stood up to defend himself in case you punched him, "Isn't it great? Now, you have more time to work! I can take care of Hanni the whole day. Yay?"

"Jungkook, you idiot!" You took off your shoe to throw it at him. Unfortunately, the doorbell rang.

Jungkook rushed to the door, "Hanni's here! Don't hurt me, Terni. You can't teach a three-year-old violence!"

The door opened while your shoe was flying in the air. Captain Yoongi was the first to enter the house, causing the shoe to hit his chest.

"Captain!" You and Jungkook snickered. Namjoon was behind him, carrying a sleeping Hanni in his arms. He saw what had happened to Yoongi. The Chief didn't react, though. In fact, he seemed to be holding back a chuckle.

Yoongi glared at Namjoon before throwing a daggered look at you and Jungkook. He loosened his tie and said, "Come here while I'm still asking nicely."

You seemed to teleport back to when Yoongi was training you and the other kids in martial arts. The traumatic memories prompted you to back away and wave your hand in a hurry, "Well, then. It's getting late. Jungkook, you should put Hanni to bed. Captain, Chief, it's nice to see you. Good night!"

You ran to your bedroom after that, ignoring Jungkook's incessant call to you. Captain Yoongi pulled the collar of Jungkook's shirt. He was about to teach him a lesson but backed off when he saw the bruise on his face.

"You're lucky I don't want to touch your face anymore." Yoongi pushed Jungkook and gestured for Namjoon to hand Hanni back to Jungkook. "Take back your kid. She ate all the candies at home. I'll buy more tomorrow and feed them to her next week. Good night."

Jungkook was dumbfounded as he carried Hanni into his arms. He smiled awkwardly at his bosses. "Good night, Captain. Good night, Chief."

Namjoon patted Jungkook's back before following Yoongi outside. "Good night, Jungkook."

Jungkook stood there for a few minutes before blinking back to reality. His bosses were long gone, but he still felt he was in a fever dream.

"Huh," Jungkook muttered to himself as he made a beeline to Hanni's bedroom. "What a strange night."

Indeed, it was a strange night.

***

The strangeness of that same night didn't end instantly. At 11pm, you and Jungkook jolted awake and rushed to Hanni's room when you heard her loud wail from each of your baby monitors.

"Hey, sweetheart. It's okay." You took Hanni's small frame and rubbed the back of her head. You were panting from being forcefully woken up to attending to Hanni in a matter of seconds.

Jungkook was also worried about Hanni but wasn't as disoriented as you. You guessed it was because his work forced him to deal with much more dangerous things. He assessed the situation by languidly looking at you as you pacified the child.

"Bad dream?" Jungkook caressed Hanni's hot cheek. Tears were still falling down her face. The little kid nodded and nuzzled her cheek to Jungkook's finger as if finding comfort in his soft touch.

"Can you tell us what happened, Hanni?" You continued rubbing her back and called her by her given name. You just needed to make sure she was present and that she knew you would listen to what she had to say.

"Let's sit for a while, yeah?" Sleepiness could still be traced to Jungkook's eyes. He didn't seem to have fully woken up yet, but ironically, he was aware of his surroundings.

One look at you, and Jungkook's hand had already made its way to fix the strap of your lingerie that fell on your shoulder.

Goosebumps pricked at your skin. Jungkook's palm was unbelievably warm—it calmed your shaking body as if telling you Hanni was safe. There was no need to worry if Jungkook's attention could stray to a petty matter like the strap of your dress.

But damn it. Was this really a small matter? Your face was flushed red, and your heart felt like it was about to explode because of embarrassment. You were wearing a sexy nightgown, after all. This was your secretary's fault! Why'd she pack these clothes for you?

'No. This isn't about me.' You scolded yourself as you gently helped Hanni sit on her crib bed. You sat on the floor, and Jungkook, the attentive man he was, retrieved a blanket you could use for cover. He sat on the floor, too, gently coaxing Hanni to talk about her nightmare.

The little girl said she saw her parents in her dream. She kept calling for them, but Sora and Niccolo never looked back. The couple just walked farther away from her.

"I miss mummy and daddy," Hanni said through whiny sobs. Your heart ached for her.

You knew you hadn't given your best for this godchild of yours. Your attention was mainly focused on work and Sora's case. Could you even call yourself a guardian at this point? Hanni was a small child who needed protection without asking. Why did it take you so long to comfort her? Why did you think skipping over an important topic was okay just because you were afraid to see how she would react?

Hanni was nothing like you. She was not an adult who could understand her emotions. She was a child. She needed to feel. She needed to understand what emotions were.

"Do you like rabbits, Hanni?" You spoke with bated breaths, but your smile was wide as ever. You couldn't break down this time. Hanni needed you.

Jungkook didn't steal your spotlight, either. He sat quietly and listened to how you would explain things to Hanni.

The child looked confused and lost, yet she nodded her head at your question, "I like rabbits. Mummy and Daddy brought me to the zoo before. There are so many of them."

A small smile cracked Hanni's lips, but her heart felt heavy as she hugged the rabbit toy in her bed.

Admittedly, you didn't know where this topic would stray at first. The rabbit toy simply caught your attention, and before you knew it, you were already using it as a euphemism for Sora and Niccolo's passing.

"Yes, sweetheart. There are so many rabbits in this world! Your mummy and daddy didn't hear your call because they're busy looking after the rabbits."

"I-I don't understand," Hanni pouted her cherry lips.

You patted her head, "Well, do you remember what it's like to be at your mummy and daddy's restaurant?"

Hanni said yes and briefly described the place and experience to be lively. She really enjoyed watching everyone enjoy eating their food.

"Your mummy and daddy are currently on a mission, Hanni. They are in a faraway place trying to feed rabbits. Your daddy cooks delicious food, right? Mummy is with him to make sure every rabbit has a full belly and a cute smile."

"Really?" Hanni's eyes glistened with astonishment. "Mummy and daddy are making sure all rabbits are happy? They're superheroes!?"

"Yes!" You laughed merrily. "Aren't your mummy and daddy great? They know you love rabbits so much that they want them to live a long and happy life."

"That's good." Hanni seemed happy initially, but she knitted her brow in confusion afterward. "But when are they coming back?"

You looked at Jungkook and signaled him to help you. Regrettably, the dumbass appeared to be deeply engrossed by your story too. He shrugged and mouthed for you to continue.

You rolled your eyes at him before grinning at Hanni, "There are many, many, many, many rabbits in the world, so it's gonna take one hundred years before you can see your mummy and daddy again."

"Hundred years?" Hanni stared at her palm and attempted to count using her fingers. She had only counted one to three before completely giving up.

"I don't know how to count to a hundred, Terni." Hanni was frustrated. Thankfully, Jungkook finally interjected the conversation.

"Don't worry, little one. Terni and I will help you count every day, okay? We'll take care of you for one hundred years until you're reunited with your mummy and daddy."

"Really?" Hanni's fear and sadness were not in sight anymore. She raised her tiny arms enthusiastically, "Hanni's very happy. I love Terni and Jungkook-boy so much!"

You and Jungkook both squeezed to fit Hanni's embrace. The little girl was excited about the possibility of spending time with her new guardians, so you let her talk until she fell asleep.

It didn't take long as Hanni was already exhausted from overplaying at Captain Yoongi's place. You guessed this was also the reason why she had a nightmare. Kids weren't supposed to overexert energy and sleep late, so you thought this was the right time for you and Jungkook to make a new schedule for Hanni's daily activities.

The next morning, you got up early to prepare breakfast. It wasn't only Hanni's schedule that you needed to fix. Her eating habits must be taken into consideration, too. Jungkook brought Hanni to her pediatrician last week and sent you the doctor's findings and suggestions.

Sora and Niccolo used to feed Hanni anything under the sun. It didn't help that your friends, especially Captain Yoongi, were a bunch of softhearted fools who always bought sweets for the little one.

You figured you'd cut Hanni's sugar intake and feed her a full meal twice and a bottle of formulated milk at night.

Today's breakfast was a simple avocado toast and random fruits you'd found in the kitchen and threw into the blender. You were not used to doing this as your secretary took care of all your meals. Fortunately, almost everything was searchable on the internet already.

It didn't take you long to follow the recipe you found online. In fact, you even had time to make Jungkook breakfast, too. It was sort of a 'thank you meal' for handling all matters related to Hanni last week.

You thought Jungkook wasn't so bad. After all, it was hard to hate someone who was soft to kids and respectful to women. Although you knew he was like this from the beginning, the younger version of you would not appreciate it because, hey! You were a regular teenager back then. You had a phase of liking walking red flags and had the "I can fix him" attitude.

You didn't want to indulge in the past anymore, though. You thought one of the few beauties of this world was a person's metamorphosis. You were far from perfect and still had many things to improve, but you were also far from the teenager willing to sacrifice herself for a fraction of someone's affection.

However, you were still a human and craved validation. You waited for Jungkook and Hanni to wake up so they could tell you what they thought about the food you made. Unfortunately, Jungkook seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

You didn't notice it at first as he was still all smiles when he greeted you good morning. He even happily played with Hanni before placing her in her high chair. Now that you thought about it, Jungkook's mood only soured when he was checking the mailbox.

"What's wrong with you?" You couldn't help but ask. You were about to eat breakfast. Hanni's starry eyes were excitedly looking at the food you made. You didn't want to start eating while Jungkook's mood was this sour.

Jungkook was surprised that you noticed his bitter expression. He attempted to smoothen his crumpled face and said casually to you, "Nothing's wrong with me. I just find these flowers ugly."

You were so focused on Jungkook's reaction that you didn't notice the bouquet of baby breath flowers he placed on the kitchen countertop.

You winced, "Where'd you get that?"

"Outside. Someone must have left them for you." There was a small card with your name on it. Seeing the handwriting, you instantly knew who it came from.

That damn Rico sure did not know how to give up.

"Serious question, are you dating somebody?" Jungkook asked out of the blue, watching as you picked up the white flowers.

You were still wincing, "Why are you asking me this question again?"

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders to appear nonchalant. Unfortunately, he looked more like he was sulking than uncaring. "I just think it's fair for me to know. I mean, we are co-parenting Hanni. What if other people misunderstand? What if they think we have a secret baby cause we fucked around years ago? I don't want some random dude or woman punching me in the fa—"

"Okay, first of all, shut up." You cut Jungkook off. "Secondly, what the hell? You're acting weird, asshole. I'm not dating anyone. And if I am, do you really think I'll start my relationship being all dishonest? If Hanni's my child, I'd tell my partner immediately. I can't date someone who can't love me and my child. Hello? Is the world turning backward?"

"So you're single?" Jungkook disregarded your speech and only focused on one aspect. Gosh. He still hadn't changed. Jungkook would always get on your nerves. He was an idiot.

"No. I'll kill my boyfriend if he gives me baby breaths. Seriously?" You looked at the flowers in disgust. "This looks like popcorn."

"Exactly my thoughts! It's like an impostor. Why don't you throw it away?"

You glared at Jungkook and shielded the flowers, "No way. You can't throw away things just cause they're ugly. What are you? Four?"

"I'm three!" Hanni raised her right hand and giggled. She had been watching you and Jungkook converse. She found you two amusing and thought it would be cool to be a part of it.

"Yes, darling. You're three. Still a baby—our baby." You kissed Hanni's cheeks and said to Jungkook, "I'm displaying these flowers until they wither. Now sit your ass here and eat."

"Haha, Terni. Look at Jungkook-boy." Hanni chuckled and pointed at Jungkook, "He's pouting like a silly boy!"

"I'm not pouting!" Jungkook was defensive. He pursed his lips and forced himself to sit down. He harshly took bites of his avocado toast.

"Hey, you greedy fool. Is this Empress not feeding you enough? Slow down. Geez, there's more." You pushed another slice of avocado toast in his direction.

Jungkook drank his smoothie, "This is pretty decent. I didn't know you were good at this."

Well, you didn't know either. "I'll make our breakfast from now on. We can't keep feeding Hanni random foods. We should go grocery shopping, too."

"We should," Jungkook gently wiped Hanni's mouth. The kid was eating so well. "And oh, have I told you already? Kiyomi and Frieda called last night. They said they'd be visiting on Thursday. We need to prepare."

It was good that you brought up the topic of grocery shopping. Jungkook planned to buy some ingredients to cook a hearty meal for the social workers. His mind was simple: he wanted to thank Kiyomi and Frieda for attentively ensuring Hanni was in good hands.

However, you were different from Jungkook. You agreed about the meal preparation for those social workers, but not with the same logic as him. You only agreed because you wanted Kiyomi and Frieda to think you and Jungkook could handle the basic things parents must do: prepare food for their children despite being committed to work. This would allow you to appear as the perfect guardians.

"It's settled, then. I'm taking half a day off work. We can go shopping after breakfast." You worked your ass off last week, barely having the time to sleep. This week would be less hectic. Besides, this was akin to a transition period, as you wouldn't be accepting complex cases in the meantime. You would opt for clients willing to settle their matters out-of-court. As said, your top priority was Hanni and Sora's case. You trusted your team in Seoul, especially Mina. They had minds of their own. You also disliked micro-managing your subordinates.

Everything was falling into its right place. Jungkook thought so, too. A huge grin decorated his lips as he thought of how he'd prepare for tomorrow's visit. The first on Jungkook's list? Make sure the Kang' residence was tidy and homey—and what made a house homey if not flowers?

Jungkook smirked. Yes, he'd buy flowers and get rid of those stupid popcorn pretending to be pretty flowers. Hah!

***

The day of the social workers' visit had finally arrived. You and Jungkook woke up early to prepare. Hanni still needed to go to the daycare, so you dressed her and sent her to school. Fortunately, her class was until 4pm today, giving you and Jungkook ample time without worrying about the little one.

Jungkook stayed behind as he was occupied with cooking and decorating the house. He might have gone overboard with the decorations, but it was worth it once everything fell into place.

You were bitchy about it, though. You teased Jungkook by playfully asking if his motif for today's lunch was a memorial place. The Kang' residence was spotless, though it had flowers almost at every corner of the house.

Jungkook didn't engage with your poor attempt to fight and just stuck his tongue out at you. You could say everything you wanted, but he knew deep down you liked what he had done to the house.

He was wrong, though. You didn't just like it. You loved it. The flowers Jungkook bought were different colors of daisies—which, coincidentally, was your favorite type of flora. But you'd be damned before you admitted it. You knew how smug Jungkook could be when praised—just like now.

"I can't believe you've cooked this, Mr. Jeon. It's very delicious." Kiyomi was enjoying some nikujaga. You were the one who suggested that Jungkook cook this. The soy sauce had a slightly sweet taste, which was good to dip in the vegetables. Kids like Hanni would surely enjoy this meal.

"It's rare to see a man, more so a Police Lieutenant, cook," Kiyomi added. Jungkook blushed, relishing the compliment. Truthfully, he did not cook often since he still lived with his parents. Jungkook never really grew up in his "mama's boy" phase and still enjoyed the meals she cooked for him. In fact, the nikujaga recipe came from his mother. Jungkook informed the social workers about it and said, "Besides, I don't cook often. My fiancée does."

The social workers' attention switched to you upon hearing Jungkook. You cracked a smile and rubbed the back of Jungkook's hand.

Jungkook's fingers were long and bony, making anyone think that Jungkook could break one's neck in just a snap of his finger. It was probably true, especially with how arduous his training was at the police academy. Jungkook had wielded heavy weapons and smashed bottles on criminals' heads more than one could count.

However, looking and feeling were two different things. Surprisingly, Jungkook's hand felt soft under your touch. The protruding veins in the back of his hands pulsated a little, their light green color perfectly contrasting with his silver Versace wristwatch.

"Cooking is the least I can do for this family, really." You spoke, watching as Jungkook's eyes drooped when he felt your fingers languidly drawing circles on the back of his palm.

You had been cooking their meals these past few days, but that was only because Jungkook had a soft spot for Hanni. He'd indulge her sweet tooth, relenting every time Hanni requested overly sweet pancakes and candies. That wouldn't work for you. Your priority was Hanni's health.

"I work a lot, so Jungkook mainly takes care of Hanni. I just support the two of them."

"Oh? Aren't you busy with work, too, Lieutenant?" Frieda enquired. Jungkook's lips quivered, and for a second, he looked as if he wanted to divulge why he wasn't working. You saved him from his idiocy at the last minute:

"He's currently on a one-month leave." You continued tracing circles on Jungkook's hand until your action forced the social workers to look at Jungkook's hand. They spotted a fake engagement ring. You and Jungkook bought it to make your acting more convincing. "Jungkook's initially saving his leave credits for our honeymoon, but Captain Min forced him to get some time off work. This fiancé of mine is so hardworking. Can you believe it? He hasn't filed for a leave in years!"

The key to a good lie was mixing it with the truth. Admittedly, Jungkook hadn't filed for a leave for many years now. His coworkers often teased him, saying he wouldn't find a wife to marry if he focused his time working. However, Jungkook wasn't bothered anymore. He grew tired of spending his weekends going on blind dates. The girls were all pretty and nice, but he didn't feel more for them. He was stuck in the attraction phase. It was as if something was missing. Jungkook wasn't an asshole, so he cut connections with those girls so as to not give them false hope.

There was this one girl who was head over heels for him, though. The woman even brought her parents to the station to cajole Jungkook into marrying their daughter, but the parents gave up halfway because Jungkook seemed oblivious to what they wanted. It was Jimin who told Jungkook about the parents' plan, but Jungkook doubted it. He thought the girl's parents were just being nice.

"Has he not?" Frieda wondered how often you and Jungkook see each other every week if you're both busy with work. She also started asking about your first meeting with Jungkook.

"We've known each other from a very young age. We lived in the same neighborhood and studied in the same school. Though, we only started dating after college." Jungkook lied.

You and Jungkook faked this story together. You two had to make a believable scenario to avoid suspicion. You told more lies, "Yes, as you can see, we started as rivals. Cute, isn't it? Our romantic story is similar to what you see in books."

You brought out your phone and clicked an album in your photo gallery to prove your point. There were a bunch of pictures of you and Jungkook taken in the past. You showed them to the social workers.

"Wow, you've really known each other for so long!" Kiyomi was impressed. There was a photo of a drawing competition during your elementary days. It was captured by your father using an old model camera.

It was one of the worst days of your life. Jungkook was good at drawing, so he was expected to win. He got first place while you were the second placer. Naturally, you could not accept it—especially not after Jungkook mocked you by drawing himself wearing a golden medal. On his feet was a drawing of you kowtowing at him. In a fit of rage, you kicked his shin, causing him to stumble on the ground. Jungkook did not hit you back but told the teachers and your parents about it.

Your mother held a high position in school, so it was embarrassing for her to see her daughter bully kids. She scolded you and forced you to apologize to Jungkook. You did not want to do it, so you cried and kicked your feet.

Jungkook's parents were understanding. They did not get mad at you and instead told Jungkook to apologize first. It was his fault, anyway. You would not kick him if he did not make fun of you.

Since Jungkook feared his parents, especially his mother, he was left with no choice but to mumble a reluctant sorry. His apology only became sincere when he saw your red eyes. For some reason, Jungkook hated seeing you cry, and so he took off his golden medal and let you wear it.

That was the moment your father captured through a photo: Jungkook was giving you his medal while you looked expectantly at him.

Seeing this, Frieda and Kiyomi couldn't help but feel their hearts softening. They scrolled through your phone and found more pictures of you and Jungkook. All of them were taken mainly by Sora since she used to like photography.

"I now understand why you called yourselves rivals," Frieda crinkled her eyes. She found it endearing rather than annoying, "You compete about almost everything, but I gotta say this one's the most interesting."

Frieda showed a picture of you and Jungkook outside your university. You two were wearing formal clothing while protesting. You were holding a "Be fair to all your students" placard written in red bold letters. Meanwhile, Jungkook had a placard that said, "Kim Mingyu is innocent."

"We didn't know you two were activists. I know who Kim Mingyu is. He's classmates with my younger sister Historia before. Mingyu's case was pretty controversial, wasn't it?"

Kim Mingyu was one of Jungkook's best friends, so it was natural for you to be acquainted with him as well. There were many moments when the Idiot Quartet shared meals with Mingyu. In fact, Mingyu once helped you with an academic project during your freshman year.

Everything was going well until your last semester in college. Someone tipped the school officers that a student from Room 509 was possessing illegal drugs. All students present that day were brought in for investigation. Their things were confiscated, and unfortunately, the only student who had unlawful drugs inside his bag was Mingyu.

But that's the thing. Mingyu might have been possessing the drugs, but his medical records showed no signs of being under the influence of any drugs. There was one student who tested positive in the drug test, though.

It was Mingyu's seatmate. Regrettably, this person was from an affluent family in Seoul whose connection extended to Busan. It was obvious that he planted the drugs inside Mingyu's bag so Mingyu could take the fall.

Mingyu initially tried to appeal, asking his friends and classmates for support. However, no one dared help him. The real culprit was powerful, after all. They did not want to get themselves involved in stuff like this.

It was only you and Jungkook who had the courage to protest. Even Sora and the others were hesitant. They told you not to be reckless and to find another way to help Mingyu without revealing your identity.

Looking back, you realized you didn't have any right to mock Jungkook and Jongsuk for being a so-called suicidal maniac because you were just like them. You were very passionate about upholding justice until one day:

A man in a black suit visited you. You just got home after another unfruitful day of protesting in school on behalf of Mingyu. You didn't really feel like talking to anyone that day, but the man made a promising proposal:

He told you he saw your potential and was willing to fund your law school education until you graduate. Everything would be provided by this man. Starting from your tuition fee up to your personal allowance. All he asked was that you move to Seoul as soon as possible, and...

"So that's it?" Jungkook's spiteful face was clear in your head as if the memory had happened recently—except it wasn't. This was after your conversation with that man in a suit. Heck. It didn't even take you an hour to decide.

You have already made a decision.

"I'm going to Seoul next week. I don't have time to protest anymore." You said simply. Your voice carried no hint of regret or sadness.

You were just indifferent.

Jungkook scoffed at your reaction—or the lack thereof. His heart had gone cold, and there was no trace of affection left on his soul after your temporary truce for Mingyu's sake.

"Yeah, as if I'm going to believe that. You're saying it's a coincidence that the Braun clan is sponsoring your studies, right? Hah. Sorry, but I call that bullshit." For a moment, Jungkook looked like he would spit on your face, but he didn't. He just balled his hands into fists and looked at you in contempt.

"You made a deal with that family, didn't you? You'll stop protesting in exchange for a straight path they'd dig up for you and your greediness."

Jungkook usually said the most idiotic things, but you couldn't accuse him now—not when he got everything right.

In exchange for a sure success in life, you betrayed Mingyu and Jungkook.

"I've made up my mind." You said with finality. The situation had already come to this. There was no point in sugarcoating things.

Jungkook didn't say anything, the silence burrowing into your heart and growing into two different emotions:

Yours was grief, and all Jungkook felt was bitterness. That day, you parted ways and never spoke to each other again. Sure, there were times you two were forced to be in the same room—like the day of Sora's wedding and when she gave birth to Hanni.

But even then, you barely looked at each other's directions. Somehow, you always felt like Jungkook was lying when he told you recently that he never hated you—that all there was to feel was annoyance at your devilish face.

It was untrue. After all, not even yourself was on your side. Jungkook might say he didn't hate you, but you sure did.

Wasn't it funny? You had achieved your dreams, but there were still some nights you thought you could go back in time. Maybe then, Mingyu and his family wouldn't have to be sent to the most rural part of Japan.

Mingyu wasn't sent to prison, but his life had been caged while his wings were cut off. Meanwhile, Mingyu's seatmate, who had ruined his life, was free—he went by the name Rico Braun.

***

The lunch with the social workers went well. You didn't want to be complacent, but you saw Frieda encircling 5 on her rating sheet. This number represented the highest point to rate you and Jungkook.

"Shall we open a bottle of wine for this success? It's still early to pick up Hanni. What do you think?" You asked Jungkook as you picked up the dirty plates and brought them to the sink.

Cleaning up after playing host was one of the things you hated doing. It didn't help that Jungkook was giving you the cold shoulder—or at least this was what you thought.

Jungkook hadn't spoken to you since Frieda and Kiyomi left half an hour ago. Jungkook had his lips puckered, and his brows creased together. You were familiar with this reaction well.

Either he was pensive or pissed. Knowing him, it was most likely the latter. After all, you could only take a few days of not fighting. Anything more than a week would be a goddamn miracle.

"Or we can just finish our chores in silence." You raised your shoulders slightly, taking a peek at Jungkook, who was still eerily quiet.

You heaved a sigh. Fine. You wouldn't push it.

'Or maybe you should.' The little voice inside your head made a comeback, so it was only natural to listen to the voice.

You didn't attack Jungkook at once, though. Firstly, you stood beside him and 'helped' him wash the dishes. You were the one lathering soap on the plates while he washed them with clean water.

It started subtly—you whisked soap suds in his direction until they hit his forearms.

Jungkook did not mind it and just continued washing the dishes.

You rolled your eyes before doing it again. This time, you whisked soap suds into his forearm with more force.

Jungkook did not react, prompting you to whisk more until his arm was covered with soap suds.

You were about to do it again, but Jungkook had seized your treacherous wrist.

"What?" You titled your head up and stared at him innocently. Jungkook peered down at you and opened his mouth. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to berate you, but he stopped when he saw your lips curving into a teasing smile.

Jungkook felt like he lost his mind a little whenever he looked at your annoying face. How could this be? How could he be stressing over something related to you while you looked like you had no clue you were fucking him up?

It was not fair.

Jungkook pulled you closer to him, letting you have a whiff of his expensive cologne: sandalwood. Jungkook did not know it, but you were not doing better than him. Your weakness was men who smelled good, alright? You were just a girl, after all. You were attracted to things that screamed masculinity, and sandalwood was one of them. The musky and earthy aroma made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

As if that wasn't enough, your heart also skipped a beat when he licked his lips and pushed you slightly on the kitchen countertop, effectively caging you in his arms.

Jungkook suddenly leaned closer and whispered to your ears.

"Why'd you keep them?" His voice dropped an octave.

"Keep what?"

It was a miracle that you could still look at him in the eyes and act all oblivious. It made Jungkook want to pull his hair out.

"You know what I'm talking about." He insisted. However, you were more stubborn than he was.

"I don't. Last time I checked, I'm a defense lawyer, not a mind reader."

No one said Jungkook had a good temper. He closed his eyes tightly, seemingly fighting the urge to snap at you—he did not. He just breathed out slowly and asked you the question as patiently as he could.

"Fine. Play dumb, but I won't accept a half-ass answer." He narrowed his eyes at you, "Why did you keep all our photos together?"

The photos were at least twenty years' worth of your life together. You were thirty-two now. Sometimes, it still fascinated you to remember that you had known Jungkook all your life.

"Don't speak nonsense about you being sentimental. We both know that's not the case because you can let go of everyone without thinking too much about it."

You scoffed at that. Hah. You knew it. Jungkook did hate you for leaving—he hated how you could throw away your bond with the people here in Busan just to make a name for yourself. Until now, Jungkook had some reservations about you. He racked his brain of why you would be keeping those photos.

It might mean nothing to you—that this was just one of your schemes to trick those social workers. But could you have found all those pictures in a few days? Not to mention that some were really old.

So why? Why did you keep them—even the ugly and blurred ones.

Jungkook was desperate for an answer, and he didn't know why. Sadly, you did not relent and even went as far as throwing back a question at him.

"What about you? Why did you fill this place with flowers? Daisies, on top of that."

It shouldn't mean anything. Heck. The question you asked was a shot in the dark. The better part of you knew it was simply a coincidence, but sometimes, your self-preservation didn't seem to work. You put meanings to things that didn't hold value for others.

"I asked you a question first." Jungkook dodged the bullet. He could be stubborn, too.

"Well, I'm not answering your question until you answer me."

"Ditto."

You glared at each other. Silence permeated the room. A few seconds later, you and Jungkook both turned away from each other as if accepting defeat without bruising your egos.

'Fine. I won't say anything.' He muttered to himself.

'Over my dead body.' You thought silently.

And with that, no questions were answered, but fear and hope entangled your and Jungkook's hearts.

***

Sora and Niccolo's case finally progressed to the highest court a month later. Justice could be achieved promptly when you know prominent people in the field.

Captain Yoongi and Chief Kim did everything they could to help you and Ji-eun win the case. Thanks to the prosecutor's ability, the jury's hearts were won.

Ji-eun managed to rebuke the faulty break allegations, arguing that even though the break was tampered with, the defendants were still guilty of negligence. Ji-eun's exact words before the judge went like this:

"Defendant Falco Grice, do you know how many seconds there are in a minute?"

"Yes. There are sixty seconds." Falco supplied.

"Then, how many hours do you spend studying every day?"

The question made Falco's eyes light up. Right! He liked answering questions regarding his studies because, according to Attorney Leonhart, his dedication to academic activities would prove how stressed he was in school, which resulted in him and Gabi trying throttle therapy.

The defendants couldn't retract their statements anymore as they had already been recorded by the traffic police and Captain Yoongi. Annie had no choice but to just turn things around.

If she couldn't minimize her clients' charges, she'd just shift the attention to hating the school and making them liable for giving unrealistic workloads to their students. This would surely earn the sympathy of students and parents.

Unfortunately, you and Ji-eun had read through this tactic, so you readied yourselves for a comeback.

"I studied a maximum of 18 hours a day, Mam Prosecutor, including eight schooling hours."

"So that means you spend 10 hours studying alone and taking special classes?"

"Yes, Mam." Falco did not know where Ji-eun was going with her questions, yet he answered them as truthfully as possible. He thought being sincere could help him win the people's hearts in court.

"You know what I find ironic?" Ji-eun quirked her brow. Disbelief was written all over her face as if this ordeal was absurd. "You study 18 hours a day because you are afraid to fail your classes, but are you telling me you can't spend a minute or two checking the condition of your car? If you're so scared of hJiming someone, then why did you use your car without checking it first? You claim to love studying, but how about studying your lessons during your driving schooling days? Did you forget everything just because you have your license now?"

"T-That's not it..." Falco trembled. Tears immediately welled up in his eyes. He looked at Annie, so the lawyer tried to object to Ji-eun's statement.

"Objection, Your Honor! Argumentative." Annie gritted her teeth. "Why are you badgering my client, Prosecutor Lee? Are you telling everyone in this honorable court that studying is not important? Why are you shaming my client for studying hard? Students are the future of our country! If there's something rotten here, isn't it the education system that gives unrealistic syllabus to students?"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Ji-eun fought back. The judge gave her the signal to speak. "Why are you holding other people accountable for your client's negligence? Shouldn't we also blame those driving schools if we follow your logic? The police officers? The honorable court and judges? This is not the first time someone has been charged with negligence. It happened before and is happening now. Are you telling me we should hold the people in public service accountable since the cycle keeps repeating?"

The people inside the court were scandalized by what Ji-eun said. You smirked as you watched things unfold. Things were going according to how you and Ji-eun pictured it.

The judge overruled Annie's objection. Attorney Leonhart couldn't lower the charges to manslaughter either. The court hearing was coming to an end, but before the closing remarks of both lawyers, the judge first allowed some people to take the stand.

You were one of those people with the privilege to say a few things, mainly addressed to the judge and the jury. You and Ji-eun talked about this. At first, it was to gain more sympathy, but as you take the stand, with Hanni sleeping soundly in your arms, you suddenly become vulnerable. You felt like you were back to being your teenage self—no sense of accomplishment and powerless to defend your loved ones.

You could only offer your heart.

"I stand here today not as a lawyer nor someone who will put justice in her own hands. Rather, I stand here as a friend and as a-a..." You trailed off when you heard your voice cracking.

Perhaps Ji-eun was right. You should have prepared a written speech for this moment. However, scheming was already part of your soul. You feared you'd end up writing a speech with malicious intent. You did not want that—not for Sora. Everything you would say today would come from the bottom of your heart.

"A guardian of a three-year-old child." You swallowed the lump in your throat while looking at Hanni with gentle eyes. You focused on the baby and nuzzled her nose with your pointer finger. Hanni cooed and smiled in her sleep. The jury watched silently, feeling their heartstrings being pulled.

"An average person in Japan lives until the ripe age of eighty, but my best friend Sora Kang and her husband were unfortunately robbed forty-eight years of their lives." Your lungs hurt. They felt like they were burning. You hated this. "Defendant Falco Grice and Gabi Braun stole those forty-eight years where Sora and Niccolo could have spent caring for their daughter—the same girl I have in my arms right now."

Hanni looked more obedient when asleep. No one could resist purring seeing her chubby cheeks and pouty lips. What more if they saw her ocean-blue eyes? You told Ji-eun you would not bring Hanni to the stand while awake. You refused to let her hear about the unfortunate things her parents went through.

"Sora and Niccolo won't see their daughter attend her first prom. They won't see her grow into a loving woman who's so innocent that she wants to save all the rabbits in this world." You looked at Gabi and Falco. "And why is that? The answer is in front of you. Falco Grice and Gabi Braun, claiming to be stressed because of school, aimed to relax through that thing they called throttle therapy, but because of that, two lives were lost. Their throttle therapy made them feel the cool air hit their faces, but what about Sora and Niccolo? Air was robbed of their lungs!" Your anger was palpable.

The jury's heart throbbed in pain.

"Falco and Gabi felt their hearts beat fast because of the excitement and adrenaline of overspeeding their car, but what about Sora and Niccolo? Their hearts were not beating fast—it's not beating at all."

Sometimes, you lay in tears in bed at night, wondering if your best friend and her husband died immediately—at least then, they wouldn't feel the agonizing thought of leaving their small child while feeling every bone in their body ache.

Your speech continued for a few more minutes before you ended with, "Attorney Leonhart said it herself: the youth is the hope of this country, so honorable jury, and judge, I implore you to think about your decisions carefully. A three-year-old in my arms could grow up with hope or a bad image of the world where injustice is fostered. In the end, the choice is yours."

Silence enveloped the courtroom. You went back beside Jungkook, who wrapped his arms around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. Hanni was passed to Taehyung for a while. The poor boy needed someone to hold, too.

A while later, the decision was made. You, Jungkook, and the others listened in anticipation as the jury's foreperson announced the verdict.

Both Falco and Gabbi were found guilty of reckless imprudence, resulting in multiple homicides. As the driver, Falco got seven years in prison and was ordered to pay ten million won. Meanwhile, Gabi needed to serve two years in prison for influencing Falco and was ordered to pay five million won. Both their cases were nonbailable.

"So ordered!" Your squared shoulders slumped when you heard this, followed by the absolute sound of the gavel. Jungkook visibly relaxed beside you, too. He squeezed your shoulder once before rubbing it and kissing your temple.

It was a surreal moment. The warmth of his lips made your body soft. You leaned to him and buried your face to his chest. Jungkook caressed your hair, not minding at all that his suit was stained by your tears.

They were happy tears. Finally, justice was served.

***

The end of the month not only concluded Sora's case but also marked the end of Jungkook's suspension at work.

It was a relief, really. Jungkook staying at home might be helpful since you didn't have to hire a babysitter anymore, but goddamn, did it not make your life easier. In fact, it made you feel like you were living in hell.

Hell was said to be hot, which you felt precisely every morning. One thing you learned about Jungkook was that he couldn't go on his day without working out. Jungkook recently found the convenience of exercising at home, which turned out to be the start of your life in hell.

Every morning, he'd go to the house's garden to do some pull-ups, planks, squats, and other workout moves. There didn't seem to be any problem with this, right?

Wrong.

Jungkook's workout routine distracted you from working. Unfortunately, your temporary office was at the Kang' residence, too. You made the mistake of putting your table near the floor-length window where you'd have a clear view of the garden. Your intention in doing so was to calm your tense mind by looking at the greeneries. But instead, what you saw was Jungkook grunting; his lips puckered as sweat rolled down his body.

You willed yourself to ignore him, but your clients did not make doing so easy. Admittedly, most of your clients would space out during the consultation as they were busy salivating over Jungkook working out. Sometimes, you'd be forced to draw on the curtains, but this was proven inefficient since your office would be so dark that you couldn't read the files on your table.

Thankfully, the worst had come to an end. Jungkook's going back to work. Conversely, you did not open your office today, saving you the mouth-drying experience of seeing Jungkook exercise.

However, fate refused to be on your side while the heavens liked seeing your knees turn into jellies. You didn't see Jungkook during his workout session, but you saw him post-workout.

You had just woken up and were feeling a bit thirsty, so you went to the kitchen without regard to your appearance. Your hair was a mess, and gunk stuck in your eyes, causing you to rub it off.

You yawned while waiting for your water to boil. Unexpectedly, Jungkook emerged in front of you.

"Mornin." He flashed a lazy smile at you. His slightly out-of-breath tone from working out all morning snapped you out of your sleep-like trance.

"Damn it." You were almost burnt by the water. Jungkook's eyes widened, immediately pulling your hand away from the kettle.

"What's up, sleepyhead?" Jungkook teased before blowing hot air on your slightly red hands. "Water's overflowing. Did you forget how to use a kettle, hm?"

You had filled the kettle with water beyond the maximum point. Not to mention that you had also switched on the fire to the highest temperature.

You couldn't argue with Jungkook. This was indeed your fault. You were careless.

"Sorry," you tried to make your voice as flat as possible while subtly wriggling out of his grasp. Jungkook noticed your avoidance, so he let you go at once.

Right. He was all sweaty. Of course, you'd be disgusted by his touch. However, this was far from the truth. You were simply caught off guard by his presence and how he looked.

Jungkook was wearing a black compression shirt and baggy grey training pants. His usual silver wristwatch was replaced by a smartwatch.

He looked...hot. You couldn't deny this, and for some reason, your temples throbbed, giving you an illusion that someone's soft lips were caressing it.

Fuck.

You should definitely check your period tracker. You were probably ovulating a little earlier this month.

You weren't the only one having dilemmas with your body. Jungkook watched as you clumsily poured yourself water and drank it. You looked disoriented, and that shouldn't be a good sign. But oddly enough, Jungkook liked seeing you like this—your guard was not up, and you were uncaring about how you looked.

You're just being you.

Jungkook was unaware that his smartwatch had detected his heartbeat. It flashed red warning lights, indicating that his heartbeat was abnormally fast.

Jungkook cleared his throat. You looked at him.

"I'm going back to work today. Thanks for making breakfast for me these few weeks, but you don't have to anymore. Captain Yoongi always brings us food."

Jungkook was seriously grateful for your efforts. Besides, your food was very savory. Jungkook just didn't want to burden you further. You barely had time for yourself since you were busy attending to Hanni and your work.

Frankly, Jungkook did not expect you to be this caring. He guessed he had this notion of you pouring your efforts just for money and power. He was not proud of this, alright?

"Oh," you blinked, "But I've already prepared your breakfast last night." You made some veggie-packed breakfast sandwiches and overnight oats. Actually, you asked Jungkook's mother for some breakfast recipes. She gladly talked to you over the phone but said she'd love to see you in person, too. The Jeon residence had a huge garden where you could pick up fruits and vegetables. That would be fun.

"I'm not going to cook tonight, though. Taehyung invited us to dinner." Your friend made a reservation in a fancy restaurant to mark the win of Sora and Niccolo's case. Taehyung wanted to thank everyone, especially you and Ji-eun, for pushing through.

"Oh, right. It's tonight." Jungkook asked how the three of you would go to the restaurant. You told him you had business near the police station later, so you could drop by there. Afterward, you and Jungkook could pick up Hanni from the daycare before driving to the restaurant.

Jungkook agreed with your plan. After that, your day had been pretty much the same. Thankfully, your client for today was easy to talk to and just agreed to whatever you suggested. He said you were the expert, not him. As a result, your meeting with the client ended thirty minutes earlier. You thought it was a waste to drive back home, so you just went to the police station to hang out.

Everyone was having a feast. Apparently, a good citizen brought food for the police officers as a 'thank you' for saving her life. It was a woman in her early thirties. You heard people calling her Pieck. She had a soft smile on her lips as she urged the officers to eat.

Jungkook saw you the moment you stepped foot inside the station. Unfortunately, he couldn't attend to you as he was the star of this joyous event. You simply waved at him and mouthed, "I can wait."

Jungkook smiled and nodded before turning his attention to Pieck and his comrades.

You watched them for a while, feeling your chest wJiming at the thought of people praising Jungkook. He deserved it. You hadn't met anyone aside from Jongsuk Lee, who was as passionate about freeing people from the hands of criminals.

Your soft heart even turned softer when an older woman stood beside you and told you to eat some food. She introduced herself as the mother of Pieck Finger.

"Lieutenant Jeon is indeed a hero," You couldn't say no when Mrs. Finger shoved desserts in your hands. You ate them. "You know him, don't you? He saved my Pieck from a group of drunkards trying to assault her."

The incident happened just a few days before Sora's accident. Pieck didn't have the opportunity to express her gratitude to Jungkook because the first time they went to visit the police station, Pieck's parents overwhelmed Jungkook with the intention of marrying off their daughter to him.

Pieck's parents wanted Jungkook to be their son-in-law, someone who wasn't armed but wouldn't hesitate to fight a group of evil men. Mrs. Finger told you that Jungkook was in a bar that night. He was off-duty, so he didn't bother bringing his gun. Jungkook just used beer bottles to smash the heads of the pricks who dared lay a hand on Pieck.

Sadly, Pieck didn't get away unscathed. The men had broken her leg even before Jungkook came to save her. Actually, Pieck was wearing a leg cast until now. She still had a week to go before completely removing it.

Pieck had a hard time standing and walking. Jungkook wasn't heartless to watch her struggle, so he held her shoulders and guided her while handing food to the officers.

You and Mrs. Finger watched them. The latter snuck a glance at you, her lips curving into a smirk.

"Don't you think Lieutenant Jeon and my daughter look good together?"

Oh?

You didn't switch your gaze at the old woman and instead remained watching Jungkook and Pieck. You tried to picture them together, but you just couldn't do so.

"I don't think so," you replied to Mrs. Finger truthfully. She scoffed and furrowed her brows. She looked like she aged 10 more years after hearing your blatant disrespect.

You shrugged off your shoulders and casually showed her your right hand adorned with an engagement ring. "I think Lieutenant Jeon and I look better together."

If you thought Mrs. Finger would backtrack her statement just because you and Jungkook were 'engaged,' then you were wrong.

She eyed you from head to toe before looking at her precious daughter. You were nothingcompared to Pieck.

"My daughter is a teacher." Mrs. Finger crossed her arms, "She knows how to take care of a small child, so it won't be hard for her to be the perfect wife for Lieutenant Jeon. Unlike you..." She looked at the way you dressed. Too classy. You seemed high-maintenance. It would be a waste if Jungkook used his salary coming from the people's taxes to support you.

"You're still a woman, so I think you won't have a hard time looking for a husband, but you and Lieutenant Jeon don't match. Just Look at him..." Mrs. Finger urged you to look at Jungkook and Pieck. "Look at the way he treats my daughter. He thinks she's a delicate flower."

Her description made you cackle. You couldn't help it. This old woman was both funny and pathetic.

"Genuine question: do you think Jungkook 'perfectly' matches your daughter just because he treats her like a human being?"

Your concerned face didn't look fake. But instead of finding it endearing, Mrs. Finger thought you were mocking her.

"And what do you mean by that?" Mrs. Finger got all defensive.

You heaved a sigh, "I just think it's sad that you are forcing an already committed man to your gorgeous daughter." You were telling the truth. Pieck was a catch. "And you're doing all this just because he treats her kindly. It makes me wonder what kind of men you and your daughter surround yourselves with—seeing that you become all desperate for the bare minimum."

"You—!!" Mrs. Finger was speechless. Her face was red because of humiliation.

You were not trying to embarrass her, though. You pitied her. Admittedly, if what you and Jungkook had was real, you didn't think you'd be jealous of how he treated Pieck. You were actually going to question his behavior if he wasn't treating her like this.

You didn't want to date a man who was only good to you.

"You said your daughter is a teacher, right? I hope she doesn't teach kids that something normal must be rewarded with God-like treatment. Because if that's the case, your standards in people, especially men, are on the floor."

Mrs. Finger was about to say something, but she saw Jungkook jogging in your direction.

"Hey," Jungkook greeted you, a sweet smile was plastered on his lips. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Are you ready to go?"

"Mn. Mrs. Finger and I were just idly chatting,"

Jungkook was so focused on you that he didn't notice the old woman beside you. He bowed at her, thanking her for helping Pieck cook the food for today.

"But you barely ate, Lieutenant." Mrs. Finger subtly complained. Her brows were knitted together. She hadn't calmed down from her rage yet. She wished she could pull your hair for being too arrogant.

"Ah, sorry," Jungkook smiled sheepishly. "I've eaten a lot earlier at lunch. My fiancée packed me a bento box. You've met her, right?"

Jungkook introduced you and Mrs. Finger more formally this time. The old man was forced to shake your hands before bidding you goodbye.

"We have to go. We'll see you later, Mrs. Finger." Jungkook's hand snaked above your waist but below your breast. This hold was way more intimate than handholding or grabbing someone's shoulder to help them walk.

Mrs. Finger gritted her teeth and glared, resenting you for naturally getting this treatment from Jungkook.

You just smirked at her and walked away.

"By the way, shithead," you called Jungkook when you two were out of the station.

"What?" Jungkook was carried away from pretending. He'd been bragging about you to his comrades and Pieck all afternoon.

"I didn't make your bento for lunch. I just bought it." You did not have time to cook it yourself.

Jungkook stopped walking. You thought he'd mock you, but he shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Doesn't matter. You still thought of me when you bought it."

Now, it was your turn to be stunned. You furrowed your brow at Jungkook, wanting to ask what he meant, but were afraid of hearing the answer.

Like usual, you let it go, refusing to hear it from him.

There was another chance for the truth—just not today.

***

Dinner with Taehyung and the others went well. You continued pretending to have a romantic relationship with Jungkook in front of them. Admittedly, telling them and acting weren't that difficult. You still remember how they reacted when you told them about you and Jungkook a month ago.

The conversation with Yoongi and Namjoon went like this:

"Chief, Captain, I am getting married with her." Jungkook intertwined your fingers together. You'd like to think you were a good actress, so you did not understand why the news did not shock the two men.

Namjoon merely raised his brow and said, "Is this your way of asking us to sponsor your wedding?" The chief thought it would be possible. Jungkook was one of his own. He and Yoongi started saving money for their boys when Jongsuk got married.

"No, no. I mean..." Jungkook scratched the back of his head. His plan didn't go as far as asking his bosses to sponsor his fake wedding. "I just wanna tell you that I'm engaged. You know, just in case someone asks you. We've been together for a while now."

"We know." Namjoon was confused. He looked at Yoongi, who was busy drinking tea. The captain didn't look bothered. "Yoongi, didn’t you tell me before that these two are dating?"

"Huh?" You and Jungkook were perplexed. Did Yoongi come from an alternate universe? Or did he hit his head? Because there was no way either you or Jungkook told Yoongi you were dating.

"Aren't you brats dating since you were 10 years old? The other kids complained about you two flirting during missions." Yoongi said in a flat tone.

You and Jungkook looked at each other. With tacit understanding, you decided not to refute the captain's belief. After all, the sole purpose of this conversation was to make them believe you and Jungkook had a thing. Oh well.

The second person you and Jungkook talked to was Ji-eun. Unlike Yoongi and Namjoon, prosecutor Lee was not easy to fool.

"You're pretending to be dating to get Hanni under your custody, right?" Not just that. She even exposed your lies. As expected of a great lawyer.

You looked at Ji-eun proudly, "So...? Can we trust you to keep this to yourself?"

"Of course." Ji-eun did not hesitate. "You have the attorney-client privilege."

With that, your conversation with Ji-eun ended. You also asked her to relay the news to Jongsuk and Jimin to save time. You and Jungkook were conserving your energy because you thought explaining your situation to Taehyung would be difficult.

Taehyung, your dumbass of a friend.

To your surprise, you didn't have to waste your brain cells trying to make sense of the setup you had with Jungkook. All Taehyung needed to hear was the word marry and he was already pulling you and Jungkook to Sora's grave.

You asked Taehyung why.

"Are you kidding? I owe Sora 3,000 won now. We've made a bet before. She told me you and Jungkook would be engaged in your early thirties. I guess it's my fault for thinking you're gonna drag it until you're in your forties. But you can't blame a guy, can you? You're both stubborn."

With the lies perfectly set, pretending came easy. No one batted an eye with how 'lovey-dovey' you and Jungkook were. The dinner was fun, though the children made it a little chaotic. You did not mind since you were learning to live in the presence of screaming children. Honestly, you admired Ji-eun for keeping a straight face while her kids go crazy. She was pretty chill. Jongsuk was the one tasked to calm the kids.

Speaking of kids, you were worried after talking to Hanni's teacher. She said the daycare had arranged a family trip for their students. You and Jungkook had to accompany Hanni to this event. From what you heard, the parents and their kids needed matching costumes. There would be games that would teach the little ones the importance of family values.

Fortunately, the event fell on the weekend, so you and Jungkook did not have to worry about work. These past weeks, you were learning to take things slow and enjoy life's little moments. You had to remind yourself that you were not running out of time. You did not have to constantly take on many cases to prove to everyone that you were a good lawyer.

"Don't stress yourself too much with our costume, okay? I already have it figured out." Jungkook assured you one evening. The trip was tomorrow. How could you not overthink? You still hadn't seen the costume in person.

"Would you just tell me what you bought for us? I don't trust you."

"Why not?" Jungkook was sulking. "I've thought about it carefully."

"You don't know my size, dumbass." You were going to kill him if he bought something inappropriate or too small for you.

Jungkook's lips curved up. He looked at you from head to toe and said, "Nah. I got it right."

Your knee-jerk reaction was to cover your chest. Jungkook scoffed and told you he was not a pervert.

You didn't care about what he said, especially when the day of the trip finally came. Hanni's teacher came bearing bad news. You thought you had lost your mind when she told you that you, Jungkook, and Hanni were staying in the same room and bed.

This setup was supposed to make the children feel closer to their parents. After all, not everyone had the luxury of spending time with their kids—daycare was even established because the parents were too busy to look after their children.

Hanni was delighted to be spending the night with you and Jungkook. Unfortunately, she recognized the deep frown on your face. She knew you were not happy about this.

"Terni, don't you want to sleep with me and Jungkook-boy?" Hanni's mood plummeted, making your heart drop. You didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"Of course not, sweetheart. It’s just that..." You tongued the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say. "Jungkook-boy and I can't sleep in the same bed."

"Why not?" Hanni folded her little arms across her chest. You did not speak, so she turned to Jungkook. Sadly, Jungkook wasn't sure what to say either. He was as surprised as you were. He just scratched the back of his neck—this was one of his bad habits every time he was lost.

You sighed, knowing you had to explain things yourself.

"Because Jungkook-boy and I aren't like your mummy and daddy."

"You're not!?" Hanni was shocked. She wrinkled her forehead. "But you said you'll take care of me for a hundred years! Isn't that the job of a mummy and daddy?"

You were running out of excuses. Besides, you couldn't tell Hanni the whole thing. Frieda and Kiyomi were not yet done with their deliberations. You couldn't expose yourselves early on.

"I'll just sleep on the floor," Jungkook said sheepishly. Frankly speaking, he was embarrassed. He was the one who attended the meeting regarding this trip. Jungkook knew you two would stay in the same room, but in his defense, he thought there were two separate beds. Jungkook would disagree if he had known there was only one bed. He would not take advantage of you like that. He wouldn't do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable, either.

"Or I'll just book another room. Don't worry about it." Jungkook stood up and gathered his things. He was halfway through the door when you stopped him.

"You can stay," you swallowed thickly. Jungkook's eyes lit up, but he still did not know what to say. "No need to book another room. The teacher and the other parents might get the wrong idea. We can't show them we're not happy we're staying together."

"Then I'll just sleep on the floor." Jungkook offered genuinely. He wasn't trying to sound like a sad boy, yet that was the vibe Hanni got from him.

Hanni's little shoulders sagged, "But Jungkook-boy, the floor will hurt your back!" For a three-year-old, Hanni sure knew a lot. You guessed this happened when your mom was Sora Kang—the girl who loved potatoes so much but was willing to break them in half and give them to a random stranger with a growling stomach.

"We can sleep in the same bed, alright?" You rolled your eyes to hide your nervousness, "This sounds awful, but Hanni will 'sort of' be our divider. She sleeps in the middle. I will kick your ass if you snore."

Jungkook nodded his head obediently. He was happy he wouldn't have to deal with a stiff neck and a sore back.

"And shower first! I don't like stinky men in my bed!"

Jungkook and Hanni followed your instructions before getting into bed. Both of them realized how much of a clean freak you were. However, you still find sleeping hard despite adhering to all pre-sleeping routines.

You glanced at the wall clock. It was past one in the morning already. Jungkook and Hanni were sound asleep beside you.

You don't usually find it difficult to sleep in a new place. In fact, you were used to it since your job required you to meet your clients all over Japan. The hotel room the daycare had booked for tonight was pretty decent, too.

The air conditioner worked well, and the duvet was clean and soft.

Damn it. You slightly tossed and turned, desperately looking for the perfect sleeping position. In the end, nothing worked.

It was quarter to three in the morning. You released a defeated sigh, resigning to insomnia, and were just about to play with your phone when Jungkook suddenly spoke.

"Can't sleep?"

Goosebumps pricked at your skin because of how raspy his voice was. You turned to face him, about to apologize because you thought you'd accidentally woken him up by tossing and turning. However, you were shocked when he handed you the only pillow he was using.

"What's this?" You asked dumbly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes lazily. "Oh, come on. You know it's a pillow. Just accept it, alright? We both know you can't fall asleep with just one pillow."

Oh.

He remembered that?

Jungkook seemed to have read your mind. He breathed out and pillowed his arm. His gaze was on the white ceiling as if reminiscing.

"I can't forget even if I want to. All my memories of our camping days with Captain Yoongi are just you complaining that you can't sleep."

So that was it. Captain Yoongi used to arrange many camping trips before. He did not separate the sleeping quarters of girls and boys. He always said, "Accidents and disasters can happen anytime. You can't choose who you're with when that happens, so learn to suck it up and deal with the situation with both your friends and enemies."

What Captain Yoongi said made sense. Jungkook learned how to be more patient as he spent the camping days calming himself despite your whiny ass.

"Hey, he made us sleep with a single pillow, okay? My neck hurts." You accepted Jungkook's pillow and tried to lower your voice so as not to wake Hanni. The kid knew how to throw a fit when disturbed. "Thanks."

Jungkook hummed and closed his eyes. You looked at his sleeping figure, feeling your heart flutter. Jungkook had long lashes. From your angle, you could also see his Adam's apple bobbing and his broad chest heaving. You suddenly wondered what laying your head against his chest would be like. Was it warm? Did his heart beat slowly? Or fast? Would it calm you down? Would its sound finally make you doze off?

There were so many questions swimming in your head. Unfortunately, you still couldn't sleep despite exhausting your mind. You tried clamping your eyes tighter, but it was useless.

You didn't remember drinking coffee earlier. What about milk? Should you try downing a glass of milk to help you sleep? Perhaps counting sheep would help. Or maybe you were just craving physical touch.

Right.

Your eyelashes fluttered when you suddenly felt Jungkook wrapping his hand around your thumb. He started stroking your fingers.

Your breath caught in your throat—

"Sleep." He whispered gently, "You are safe here."

—And then your breathing evened as he continued caressing your finger. His actions and words seemed to be the potion your mind was looking for because you really did fall asleep a few minutes later.

The following day, you were awakened by the alarm and a little monkey climbing your leg.

"Terni, wake up!" The monkey was shaking your leg and hips. "Please! Please wake up! It's family day today!"

"No. I wanna sleep!" You cried begrudgingly. Why must a little monkey and an annoying alarm disturb your sleep?

Have they no conscience? This was your first time sleeping peacefully, so you tried kicking the monkey at your feet and hugged your pillow tighter.

This pillow was pretty good. It was warm and sturdy. It even smelled like fresh air and a bit loamy.

Good. You thought you could stay in this position forever as you rubbed your cheek in the pillow.

"I'm starting to think you're not actually sleeping and are just taking advantage of me." The pillow talked, forcing you to stop pinching the pillow and open your eyes.

The world seemed to stop when you were met with Jungkook's lukewarm gaze.

"Is your pillow soft and warm, Empress?" Jungkook quirked a brow, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

You gasped. All this time, you were pinching and caressing Jungkook's biceps, not a pillow! Your head was comfortably leaning on his chest, too.

Scandalous! This was all too scandalous! How dare you wrap your legs around his hipbone. And Hanni! Hanni was still latching on your leg while playing with the hem of your nightdress.

To make things worse, Jungkook chuckled lowly in your red ear and said, "Who's the pervert now?"

No!!!!!! This was your last straw. You pulled Hanni away from your leg and immediately got up from the bed to sprint and lock yourself in the bathroom.

Damn it. This day was not how your morning should've started!

***

You did not have a crush on Jungkook— this was what you kept telling yourself while stuck in the bathroom.

It did not matter that all you could think about was him as you bathed. Or how you couldn't stop seeing the image of him standing behind you to gather your hair in one place so you could brush your teeth better.

You ignored the fluttering of your heart as you thought about how good he had been to you the past weeks, of how attentive he was to your needs. You thought it wasn't a big deal how he gave you the only pillow he had for the night, or how he held you in the police station, or how he decorated the house with daisies every day—yes. Jungkook's madness with flowers never stopped ever since Kiyomi and Frieda's visit. He also habitually checked the mailbox first thing in the morning. You pretended not to understand why, but you knew he was checking if baby breaths were on the doorstep.

There were also times when you went home late because of work. Jungkook would then stand outside the Kang' residence, pretending to enjoy the night stars, but he was just waiting for you to come home.

You brushed off how much you appreciated his jokes, how he distracted you from the pain of losing your best friend, and how he took care of Hanni when he saw you were overwhelmed with everything. Nothing mattered to you because you were not in love—you didn't have a crush on Jungkook.

'Keep telling yourself that,' The voice inside your head betrayed you, yet you stood your ground and ignored the seed of feelings that had long since bloomed into colorful flora.

You were annoyed during the family trip. Not only were you being pestered by your damn feelings, but you were also tormented by how ridiculous you looked.

"Terni, come on. We're late!" Hanni banged her little fists on the hotel room's door. She and Jungkook had been waiting for you to come out for quite some time now.

"Go on without me! I'm not going out there!" You hissed, itching to remove your pink gloves.

"Oh, come on." You heard Jungkook's voice. He also banged the door. "The ceremony is about to start. Let's just go, please?"

You did not open the door as an acquiesce to Jungkook's soft plea. You only showed yourself to them so you could hit Jungkook in the face.

"This is your fault!"

Jungkook let you hit him. He simply chuckled at how cute you looked.

"What are you sulking for? It's not so bad!" Jungkook playfully pulled at your fake whiskers.

You hit him again. "What do you mean it's not so bad! I look stupid!"

Jungkook really exceeded your worst expectations. Who would have thought he'd buy matching rabbit costumes for the three of you? You swore to kill him if he bought something inappropriate, but honestly, you felt a slutty rabbit costume would be better than the rabbit onesie he chose. To make it worse, Jungkook purchased the pink one for you. He had the blue one, while Hanni wore a pastel purple—it was obviously the result of combining the colors pink and blue.

Now, the three of you looked like a happy family. It would have been fine if Jungkook chose a royal or superhero costume. But a rabbit? Seriously?

“Those are overrated,” Jungkook told you this when you complained about not having a Wonder Woman costume. Truthfully, you had seen two families near your hotel room wearing DC superhero costumes.

“Let’s take a picture together. I’ll send it to Kiyomi and Frieda.” Jungkook carried Hanni into his arms and pulled you closer to him. He brought out a camera and took a photo of the three of you.

You couldn’t complain after that since the two dragged you out to participate in today’s activities. Soon enough, your embarrassment did not matter as your competitive side resurfaced to shit on everyone.

It started off fun. Some parents and kids praised you and Jungkook for taking the games seriously. But things started going downhill during the segment called Family Trivia. Your family was leading by ten points, which didn’t hinder you from scoring more.

Old habits indeed died hard. You felt like you were in school again, feeling the thrill of answering rounds of questions. You lost your mind whenever another team answered the question first.

“The word family is derived from the word famulus!”

Hanni’s teacher was about to give the other family a point for scoring, but you pressed the buzzer to complain. The teacher looked at you in defeat, wanting to ignore you but couldn’t.

“Her answer is incomplete!” You argued. You were quite embarrassing, really. You reviewed the questions and games the teacher gave each family more than thrice. This was where you focused your energy; that was why you couldn’t check the trip itinerary and didn’t see you and Jungkook were sharing one bed.

“The word famulus is Latin. It means servant. Say, teacher, give us the point, not to them!”

The teacher looked apologetically at the family that was robbed of point. She couldn’t argue with you since the rules said the answers must be complete.

The other families stared at you contemptuously, but you didn’t mind since Hanni and Jungkook were cheering you on. Jungkook had also never grown out of his competitive phase. His heart swelled with pride as he raised his hand to give you a high-five.

The participants for the next game were the father and his child. Hanni would help Jungkook build a tent. It took the other families twenty minutes to set up their tents, but Jungkook and Hanni did it in less than 10 minutes—this was kudos to Jungkook’s training at the police academy and years of practice doing it during your camping days with Captain Yoongi.

None of the families wanted to talk to you by the end of the games. They thought you ruined the fun for their children. Some kids even scoffed at Hanni, leaving your poor goddaughter crying.

Your heart ached to see Hanni sad. You couldn’t help but blame yourself for taking things this far. It was your competitiveness that ruined Hanni’s reputation at the daycare. Needless to say, Jungkook rubbed yours and Hanni’s back, telling the two of you that you’d win back their hearts before the night's end.

However, you didn’t seem to have a chance to do that when rain suddenly started pouring. You were currently at the top of the mountain. The hike down wasn’t too far, but the ground would be slippery. It was already getting dark. The plan was to sleep in the tent the fathers and children set up earlier, but that didn’t seem viable now.

“We’d like to apologize for this unforeseen event.” Hanni’s teacher was apologetic. It was their mistake for not checking the weather forecast more clearly. “Let’s just wait for the rain to stop; then, we can all hike and sleep in the hotel instead. Don’t worry. The daycare will shoulder all expenses.”

The teacher’s statement did not pacify the parents, as their children started whining and throwing a fit because of the lightning and thunder. Hanni was the only well-behaved child—kudos to Jungkook for sitting with Hanni back at home and educating her about navigating rainy days.

“It’s okay, Jungkook-boy. I’m not scared.” Hanni assured Jungkook. Your heart recoiled with joy seeing them like this. The feelings you had been hiding since morning threatened to resurface again. This time, you were utterly defenseless and were left with no choice but to step back and let the arrow pierce your delicate heart.

Jungkook was a good guardian—a better father than most men you knew. Any woman would be lucky to have him father her children.

You looked around. Most fathers did not know what to do when faced with their crying child. Some tried to subtly scold the little kids for acting up. The others did not bother to hide that they were pinching the kid’s arms to get them to calm down. The mothers were feeling distressed, too.

You abruptly stood up. Hanni was sitting on Jungkook’s lap. Both of them met your gaze and asked where you were going.

“I’ll talk to the teacher. Just give me a minute.” You did not wait for their response and just headed in front. The teacher was having a hard time calming down the kids. You signaled that you wanted to talk, so she nodded and found a quiet place for you to converse.

Several seconds later, you stood before the parents and the students while holding a guitar. Hanni’s teacher borrowed this instrument from one of the families cosplaying as a family of performers.

“Hello, everyone ~” you greeted them. Only a few spared you a glance as they were still busy pacifying their crying kids. You proceeded with your mini-speech and told them you’d be singing a song.

“Kids, you need to listen to the song, alright? Don’t think about the thunder. Just focus on the melody." Then you strummed the guitar strings. Along with it was the light tugging of your heartstrings. Music, particularly singing, was your passion. It was your escape whenever things started getting overwhelming.

Soon enough, the thunder was overpowered by your singing voice. Call it a miracle or just pure talent, but your melodious voice caused peace to seep through everyone’s heart.

You were singing You’ll Be In My Heart by Phil Collins. You were both excellent singers, but something in your voice made you stand out more. Perhaps it was because of how painfully raw your voice was—when you sang, you didn’t just sing with your mouth. You sang with your heart.

You created your own version of the original song that no one could recreate, not even the most prominent voice impersonator. Your voice was like kisses and candles and warm hugs. You were like the last bit of sunlight before the raging storm. And when the storm was over, you were the rainbow—the colorful hues that told people there was hope.

The children stopped crying. Jungkook was the first to stand up and clap his hands like his life depended on it. The other followed suit; whistles and laughter echoed the place.

A little while later, the rain finally stopped, and Jungkook’s claim turned out to be correct:

You’d won the people’s hearts before the night ended.

***

The path going down the mountain would take ten minutes or so. It was also a straight and smooth trail, so the kids wouldn't find walking difficult. However, the adults didn't have the heart to let these three-year-old children walk. Luckily, there were mountain wagons they could ride.

Hanni was hanging out with her friends again. Your singing voice really warmed them up. They thought Hanni was pretty cool for having a guardian whose voice was as good as Elsa from Frozen and other Disney princesses.

"Does this mean you're demoted to being just a princess, Empress?" Jungkook teased you on the way back to the hotel. You two were walking beside each other.

The teacher, parents, and other officials guided all the kids in the wagon. Jungkook decided to walk at the back of the group, his police lieutenant personality kicking in. He wanted to make sure no one was left behind.

You figured you'd just accompany him as you didn't want to converse with other parents. Besides, they were busy looking after the wagons.

"Shut up, you lowly subject. This empress felt happy, so I thought, why not appease my people?" You shot back at Jungkook. He laughed at your poor attempt to talk like a royalty. It was funny, considering you were still in your rabbit costume.

Jungkook encircled his hands on your waist and pulled you near him, ensuring you didn't hit any trees. He hummed, "I haven't heard you sing in years."

Of course, he had not. Law school and your life in general fucked you up so badly. You had experienced failure after failure to the point that you questioned yourself—starting from the things that defined you to the things you loved and hated.

You wondered if you would ever amount to more. Failures took such a great toll on you that even the thing you loved the most didn't feel fulfilling anymore. There was a point in your life where you thought you didn't have the right to make music—that it should be reserved for people who were good at it and not someone like you who just loved it.

"That's cause I haven't sung in years." You admitted.

Jungkook cast his gaze on the ground. His heart was uneasy, wanting to ask you a question, but he wasn't sure if he had the right to.

"Last time I sang was when I was with you."

Your voice was barely above a whisper, yet Jungkook still heard it. He paused. Then he looked at you intently.

You weren't lying. Years ago, you were passionate about music. You even composed your own songs. Sora and Taehyung used to listen to your work all the time, but those two were easily distracted and would just tell you, "It's good." Of course, you still appreciated it.

However, you seemed to be looking for something more. You thought of Jungkook at that time. He was down and feeling edgy the past weeks. It was because his mother got into an accident and ended up needing leg surgery.

Jungkook barely ate, worrying about his mother to the point of insanity. You couldn't take it anymore, so you once went to him with a guitar.

"I'm not in the mood to fight with you," Jungkook warned. There were no biting remarks in his tone, just pure exhaustion. The fire in his eyes was extinguished, too.

You rolled your eyes and sighed.

"I'm not here to fight. I just need you to listen to me sing."

"Huh?" Jungkook flinched. He was clearly perplexed about what you said. Did you seriously want to sing in front of him? Were you sick? You never liked to sing whenever Jungkook was around. You said he ruined your mood, so what changed now?

"It's just that..." You trailed off and copied his habit of scratching the back of his neck. It was a good thing you could immediately think of an excuse, "You're my rival. Rivals talk shit a lot about each other, right? I'm joining a singing competition soon. I want you to hear it first, and then you can criticize me all you want. I need to hear them."

Jungkook was not convinced, but he let you be. After all, it was easier to listen to your angelic voice rather than fight you.

You sang your own composition. It was not a love or a heartbreak song. Jungkook sat there dazed, wondering why his heart unexpectedly felt light as you sang words of encouragement—it was as if you were telling him that the huge storm would pass, and all that would be left was a mother's loving embrace.

Jungkook felt tears filling his eyes. He blinked and wiped them before you could see.

"How was it?" You put down your guitar. A gracious smile was plastered on your lips.

It's stupid. I hate it. Don't sing again. These were the words Jungkook wanted to say because these were what you were expecting. But Jungkook was not a liar and was always vocal about his feelings. The first time he met Ji-eun, he did not hesitate to tell her she had pretty hair.

"Thank you," Jungkook ended up telling you. His voice was unbelievably soft that your heart couldn't help but melt. "It was beautiful." You were beautiful.

It sure was. Jungkook did not know what else to say, but it was okay. Later that day and the following days, Jungkook was back to his old self.

He could eat and smile again.

He then asked about the singing competition, but you shrugged and said, "Nah. I don't want to join anymore."

Only a few years later did Jungkook realize that there was no singing competition in the first place.

Jungkook's eyes drooped. You were already in Seoul when he found out about it. Sometimes, he entertained the idea of confronting you about it. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity to do it, but Jungkook just caught your wrist instead of asking you about it.

"Hm?" You stared at him innocently. He stopped walking, and so did you.

"Would you..." Jungkook swallowed hard and licked his lower lip. He felt his heart stuttering.

Your eyes were glistening despite the lack of a moon in the sky.

"Would you...sing a song for me again?"

There was a pregnant pause in the air. You blinked at Jungkook, and for a moment, Jungkook thought you would say no. But then you gently cleared your throat and nodded.

"Let's walk." You pulled him and started descending the mountain. You two were keeping a good distance from the group of people. From here, you could see Hanni laughing heartily with her classmates.

The wind blew, hugging you and Jungkook with its coldness.

"All I knew this morning when I woke, is I know something now, know something now I didn't before~"

When Jungkook asked you to sing, your mind instantly went into autopilot and sang whatever your heart told you.

Everything Has Changed—the song title was exactly what you felt for Jungkook. Wasn't it funny? You went to Busan for your dead best friend.

Sometimes, you felt guilty you were not mourning her enough—that Sora was dead, but your treacherous heart was beating like it never did before.

There was death, but there was also rebirth—the blooming of something you thought you buried for good and left with not even a trace of sunlight.

Daylight had come.

It went in the shade of all right and tall guy with gentle eyes.

Jungkook smiled softly at you. He did not react until you finished singing.

You were almost down the mountain. The kids and the others were already at the foot. It was just you and Jungkook here.

"How's my singing, Your Majesty the Emperor?" You intended to go for a light teasing, but something in Jungkook snapped when you called him emperor.

You were the empress, weren't you?

No words were exchanged. Jungkook put his hand on the small of your back, drawing you in.

Jungkook had kissed other people before. Whenever he did, he always held their cheeks before diving in. But with you, it was different.

He first stroked your head before his right hand gently held the back of your head; his other hand was still in the small of your back.

Jungkook stared deep into your eyes. It was as if he wanted to touch your soul with how intense yet languid he looked at you.

He seemed to want to memorize every part of your face—afraid you'd vanish if he so much as blinked.

But looking was not enough. He wanted a taste, too.

Jungkook wetted his lips, leaning in. Then, very slowly, he inched closer to you as if giving you time to push him away.

You did not.

But Jungkook was still so afraid. His eyelashes quivered before he dipped his head and gave you a soft peck on the lips.

There were no fireworks or grand and flowery words people read in novels.

The kiss was just it—a kiss.

There were no intense feelings, but there was Jungkook and his soft eyes and open heart.

There were no fireworks, but there was the sound of inserting the key in the door lock, then came the twisting of the knob before the door opened.

There was no rollercoaster kind of feeling in that one kiss. Because the only thing here was home.

Kissing Jungkook felt like coming home.

PART 2

likes and comments are highly appreciated 🙏 it motivates me to write more 😉💙

Y/N of this fic patterned to my IRL best friend. i love her so much pls listen to her cover of You'll Be in My Heart as this is how I imagined Y/N singing the song.

#jungkook fic #bts jeon jeongguk #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook e2l #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook bts #jungkook fanfic #boyfriend jungkook #daddy jungkook #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x yn #jungkook x original character #jungkook roommate au

427 notes · View notes