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trippinsorrows · 3 months ago

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love lies

authors note: tribal daddy's current storyline had me inspired. these characters and 98% of this dynamic is from a personal story i've been writing since last year. some of these scenes were taken directly from that. some things have also been changed/modified/removed to fit the specific storyline of this oneshot.

an important thing to note is that in this universe, wrestling is all real. there's no kayfabe. everything that happens is real. wwe is also up there in ranks with the nba and nfl. the big three, if you will.

roman and jey are not married in this. jey is divorced with two kids. roman....just know he has no wife. lmao.

words: 17k (if you're new around here, i'm so sorry. i talk too much.)

warnings: angst. smut. fluff. age gap. unhealthy (toxic?) dynamics. roman is....annoying.

song inspo: 'love lies' by khalid feat. normani // 'for the night' by chloe feat. latto

She should have broken it off a long time ago.

Alamea knows this and has known this for some time. The same way she knows this should have never started in the first place.

She should have done exactly what she was instructed to do by anyone and everyone who offered advice when she was first hired by WWE. Different variations of the same shared warning across the board.

Stay away from Roman Reigns.

Truth be told, it didn’t—or shouldn’t—have needed to be said. His reputation spoke for itself. The self-proclaimed Head of the Table, and his unassailable Bloodline, ran WWE. Had for the past couple years following Roman’s disappearance and reappearance with a new, also self-assigned title as the Tribal Chief. And, it’d been a hell of a run ever since.

Or, it was.

Because while Roman sat untouched and unbeatable at the top of his throne for years, it all came crashing down in the most unexpected—or expected—of ways on April 7th, 2024 when the unthinkable happened.

Roman lost.

He lost.

A historic 1,316 day title reign ended on the count of a one, two, three.

Cody Rhodes defeated him and finished not only his story but Roman’s as well.

A story that, truly, Roman himself allowed to end in a lot of ways. The chair to the back of Seth allotted him brief satisfaction but long-term misery. A personal choice that he made that cost him everything.

Something that felt and seemed inconceivable at the time.

“I made a personal decision,” he’d told her once as they laid in bed, his gaze on the ceiling, hers focused on the wall beside them. She was atop him, finger gently tracing the outline of his tattoos. “And, I don’t regret it. I’d do it again.”

She wonders if he still feels the same.

She also wished, sometimes, at least, that he wouldn’t do that.

Talk to her like that. It was…confusing.

It all is, but especially that.

Especially something so….personal.

Then again, one could argue that sex was even more personal, because it is, and yet, that didn’t stop her every time he showed up at her door.

And, he always does.

At one point or another.

—-------

March, 2022

The most frequent piece of advice that Alamea had been given since being hired at the WWE was, again, relatively simply enough.

Stay on task, keep up with her responsibilities, and above all, stay out of Roman Reign’s way.

She took heed to all of it, but especially the latter of the three.

Or, at least, tried to.

Because only she could manage to run, literally run, into the man himself on her very first day.

Of course.

And what an impact it was. She felt like the wind was knocked out of her. The man was a brick wall. A solid, muscled, impenetrable wall. The brace sent her flat on her ass, portfolio falling beside her, embarrassment fighting with anxiety. Not only was she late on her first official day, but now she’d broken the cardinal rule in less than 1 hour.

Go fucking figure.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Paul Heyman, also known as the Wise Man, and Roman’s chief advisor, was instantly berating her. “How dare you—”

Roman lifted his hand to silence Paul, and it was only then that she realized it was because he was staring directly at her. A quiet gasp left her mouth at the sight of him.

She’d seen him on TV plenty of times, watching wrestling every Friday and Monday night when she could, live, and recorded on the days where she had work or class. He’d always been attractive to her, even on the TV screen. But, in person….in person was something entirely different. He was both beautiful and terrifying in the same breath. Beautiful, weary brown eyes focused on her, assessing her, slowly moving up and over her seated, sprawled out frame.

Everything about him screamed power.

An extra layer of embarrassment crept over when she realized she was staring. Reorienting herself to the situation, Alamea expected to be met with a fiery, annoyed gaze. Instead, he looked….he looked curious.

She frowned, and that frown deepened when she realized he was extending his hand, willing to help her get back to her feet. Her. The same person who rudely smashed into him because she was incapable of having and successfully completing one job.

Alamea felt, and probably looked, every bit of stupid just staring between him and his outstretched hand. There was definitely too long of a delay between his offer and her acceptance. Her hand in his, the other one grabbing her portfolio, he seemed to exert all of the strength needed to pull her to her feet. And, when she was entirely upright, she snatched her hand back to push back some of her hair that refused to stay in her now messy bun. It was slicked back when she left that morning, but it certainly wasn’t that way anymore. Not with all the ripping and running she’d done.

“I’m—I’m so sorry. I didn’t—” Stammering like an idiot only made her feel even more humiliated, no doubt her cheeks shaded red to match the burning within. “I–I’m sorry, Mr. Reigns.”

Paul’s correction was swift and razor-sharp. “You will acknowledge him as your Tribal Chief.”

She swallowed, nodding. And the grave kept getting deeper and deeper. “Of course, my apologies. I’m sorry, my T—”

“Abigail!” A loud, vexing voice shrieked, and if Alamea hadn’t had the displeasure of already being introduced to the woman, she would have ignored it. Having only a handful of meetings, each one had been marked by being called the wrong name, offering a respectful correction, and said correction being ignored for the wrong name. “Where the hell is she?”

“Oh no.” Alamea’s face blanked as she apologized yet again and moved in between Roman and his council, ignoring the brush of her body against his. He was built. “I’m really sorry again!” She called back once more, rushing towards an agitated Tiffany Stratton.

When Alamea learned that WWE wanted to move forward with hiring her, she was ecstatic, happier than a kid on Christmas morning who saw they got the number one item on their wishlist. She couldn't wait to tell her parents that a lifelong dream was finally becoming reality. For as long as she could remember, Alamea loved clothes, loved how they could be so personal and expressive. She especially loved costume designing, something she was first introduced to through WWE. And WWE was something she was introduced to by her brother.

It saddened her sometimes, often, that he was no longer around to see that she did it. She followed her dreams, and it worked out. But, she also knew that he was proud of her, and it was that desire to keep him proud that allowed Alamea to deal with the irate woman before her.

“Why were you with Roman?” Her tone was accusatory but also interrogative, like she was looking for something else. “How do you know him?”

“I don’t.” Alamea answered quickly, realizing Tiffany wanted an explanation. “I, umm, I accidentally ran into him.”

This answer seemed to please her, her thin lips forming into an amused smile. “Of course, you did.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Whatever, Abigail.” Alamea had long given up on trying to correct the superstar she’d been assigned to design for. One verbal lashing was more than enough for her to realize it wasn’t a dealbreaker. “Let’s go. You’ve got one more time, and I’ll make sure your ass never works in this industry again. Understand?”

Alamea nodded silently. It was no secret how heavily Tiffy was being pushed in the women’s division. A clear company favorite. Alamea had no doubt the woman could make good on her threat. Following the blonde towards her dressing room, Alamea was wholeheartedly unaware of the set of eyes that never let her from the moment of impact.

The eyes of the Tribal Chief himself, Roman Reigns.

—-------

One of the many reasons Roman kept The Wiseman around was because he was true to his name. Wise. And, reliable. Fast, too.

In under a couple hours, the Wise Man had successfully delivered the requested information to the Head of the Table.

Alamea Dixon. 25. New hire to the company in the wardrobe department. Assigned to a couple of female superstars, including Tiffany Stratton. That piece of information put a scowl on the Undisputed Champion’s face. Many of the women on the roster were irritating to him, but Tiffany was insufferable. She took any opportunity she could find to bat her eyelashes and stick fake ass, hard titties up and out in his presence. The desperation was tacky. A waste of time too.

She wasn’t his type. Too thin.

And if he was being real honest, too white. That had never been his preference. Even growing up.

But.

Alamea…she was most definitely his type.

Those big brown eyes, full lips, and the curves…she checked all three boxes: hips, ass, and tits. Roman needed someone to take to bed who actually satisfied his appetite. And, as of late, the pickings had been mid at best.

But type or no type, she was a distraction. And he couldn’t have distractions. As Head of the Table, the weight of his entire family on his shoulders, he couldn’t afford distractions. Alamea could be a sight for sore eyes but nothing more.

—------

“Ayo, I think we should get some Yeet pillows next.” Jimmy, or maybe Jey, blurted out while walking in the Bloodline locker room with two plates of food. “Maybe some beach balls as well.”

“Ohhh shit, man, yeah, that’d be sick. We could kick them around and stuff during our entrance.” The other twin, whichever one, fed into the bullshit. Some days Roman truly contemplated demanding they have their own locker room because the way they tested his patience at least once a day, usually several times within the hour, couldn’t have been good for his health.

He wished they would be more like Solo. Seen but never heard. Roman’s preference for anyone not the Wise Man.

A knock at the door pulled him away from his thoughts yet again. Jaw clenching, he miraculously stopped himself from snapping on everyone around him. How the hell was he supposed to strategize with all these damn distractions?

“Shit, that must be the wings I ordered.” Twin #1 jumped off the sofa as Roman ran his hand over his face and through his beard, a telltale sign of his growing impatience.

“Damn,” Jimmy/Jey called out from the door. “It ain’t the wings, but I’m not complaining.”

“Hi.”

Roman’s head snapped in the direction of the door. That voice. He knew it.

Alamea.

“I’m sorry to bother.” That damn girl was always apologizing for something. “But, Sheila is out sick today, and these came in for you, so I was asked to drop them off and make sure they’re what you wanted.” Sheila was the Bloodline’s personal and lead wardrobe designer. Good at what she did and didn’t make a lot of noise.

But, she was no Alamea. Not in looks, at least.

“Oh, for sure. Come in.” Roman watched her walk in behind Jimmy with a box that partially obscured his view of her pretty ass face.

He cuts his eyes at Jey, demanding, “help her.” Fucking manners were a dime a dozen these days. Jey, who was sitting, jumped up and did so, taking the box from her and placing it on the island in the kitchenette area. Alamea briefly locked eyes with Roman and offered a quiet thank you before she refocused on the twins ripping the box open like fucking children.

Meanwhile, Roman tried to not focus too much on the fact that her side profile was on full display, his eyes temporarily zoning in on the curve of her ass, a nearly perfect ‘P.’

“Oh shit,” Jey cursed, lifting up one of the shirts to his frame and asking Alamea, “what you think?”

She opened her mouth and closed it. “It’s nice.”

“Be honest,” Roman instructed. She looked at him again, not for long. She was nervous. That much was painfully obvious.

“I just—” She reached out to touch the shirt. “I would have moved this further down and inverted the colors. Red on black instead of black on red. It’s too loud, and not in a good way. The font should also be less calligraphy, something more sans serif. Maybe crop this too. For you, at least. Leave it the length it is for Jimmy. Another distinction between you two.” Covering her hand over her mouth, her eyes widened as she shook her head. “But, it—it looks fine the way it is. Just—just my suggestions.”

“Naw, I love it,” Jimmy chimed and looked between him and Jey. “Shit, can you be our designer?”

Her eyes widened again in slight panic. “Oh no, I can’t—I’m Tiffany’s designer—”

“Man, fuck that bad bodied bitch. Her ass wear the same damn outfit every week. Just different colors. What she need a designer for anyway? Especially a good one.” Jey looked over at Roman, walking over to him. “Come on, uce, make it happen.”

“No, really, I—” She was cut off by her phone ringing. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath and pulled it out of her pocket. Glancing at the screen, Alamea shook her head and shared it with them. Tiffany. “See? I’ve gotta—” However, she was cut off by Roman lifting out of his seat and taking only two steps to close the distance between them. She was about to say something when he took her phone out of her hand and hit answer.

“She’s with me now.” A simple statement was all he issued before ending the call and reaching it back to her.

Alamea might have been a distraction, but she was an even bigger distraction for the twins, which would give him some relief from dealing with their antics. So, a necessary evil.

One he could absolutely learn to manage.

—-------

April, 2022

Roman was wrong. He could not, in fact, manage it.

He anticipated Alamea being some level of distraction, but he didn’t anticipate how high that level actually was.

She was always around, and that was mostly because of his irritating as shit cousins who constantly asked for her advice, input, and designs regarding all of their stupid ass ideas. On one hand, he was happy to no longer be on the receiving end of that. But, on the other, he was still in earshot and now always in close proximity with Alamea.

To be fair, she kept her distance and interactions with him to a minimum. He could tell it was partially because he intimidated her, as he did most people, but that was also just clearly her personality. She was quiet and soft-spoken, though the more she hung around the twins, the more he could see her comfort level increasing. She would crack jokes and laugh with them, matching their vibes as best she could.

Roman would never admit that there was some small part of him that liked how she got along with his family so well. The twins were annoying, but they were family, like brothers to him. And family meant everything.

“I wanna take this in a little more.”

She was tailoring a new shirt for Jimmy, and though he played off his disinterest well, Roman watched how focused and intense she looked when she was working, clearly finding passion and pride in what she did. “How’s that? Move your arm around.” Jimmy did so, freely, displaying the flexibility needed to wrestle. “Okay, yeah, that works. I’ll have it ready for you tonight.”

“Man, you are magic, Lay Lay.”

Lay Lay? Roman didn’t know why, but his cousin having a nickname for Alamea rubbed him the wrong way.

Her smile was bright, warm, bubbly. Like her personality. “Always here to help.”

Jimmy said something about craft services being ready before rushing out like a child going to see their Christmas presents on Christmas day.

That left just Roman and Alamea, the latter of whom seemed anxious to gather her supplies and head out, probably to one of the other dressing rooms. Being alone together seemed to bother her just as much as it bothered him, even if he did a much better job of not showing it.

In grabbing some of her supplies, she accidentally knocked down a portfolio, papers littered across the floor.

She cursed quietly, and he smirked. Her voice was so light and soft, profanity on her tongue just sounded amusing.

Roman moved across the room, bending down to help her out. Her head snapped up, hair framing her face. His jaw clenched. Her brown eyes, big and captivating, temporarily distracted him. Just like everything else about her.

“Thank you,” she offered, quietly. Roman said nothing, reaching her a stack of papers when his eyes landed on one in particular.

It was unfinished, clearly, but enough was completed for him to make out exactly what it was. His cousins and the Wise Man sitting around a table, Roman at the head, surrounded by money and what seemed to be a rough outline of their title belts.

He chuckled, “did you design this?”

“Y-yeah.” She added on, nervously. “I mean, it’s nothing serious. I was just messing around with different ideas to—”

“I like it,” he interjected, cutting off her rambling.

Her surprise at his words, short and simple, were visible. “Really?”

Reaching it to her, he ignored the slight brush of their hands and watched her add it to the top of the stack. “It’s good. Very good.”

She looked like he just told her that she was the reincarnation of God. Her cheeks were reddened as she pushed some of her hair behind her ear, bashful as always. “Thank you.” She gathered the rest of her materials, standing up and adding, “I planned on finishing it tonight for the twins—”

“No.” She frowned as he stood up as well, more or less towering over her. It was a matter of his massive size and her shortish stature. “That one’s mine. They can have their yeet shit.”

She giggled, and my God. It was like music to his ears. “You really don’t like that, do you?”

He rolled his eyes, answering. “It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“I feel like a lot of things don’t make sense with them,” she added, a sly smile on her face.

Roman nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, they been like that since we were kids.”

“You guys are really close.” It was more an assessment than a question. An accurate one. Even in the moments where the Usos' antics were met with glares and looks of disdain from the Tribal Chief, she could always recall the small smiles and inside jokes she’d been privy to witness between the three. “You’re protective of them.”

“Of all my family,” he corrected, “If I care about you, ain’t nothing I won’t do for you.”

Alamea didn’t know why his gaze and words stirred up unidentified emotions. She just knew that her weight shifted from one foot to another as she murmured an excuse about needing to get to the dressing room.

She also refused to think too much about how she felt his eyes on her retreating form up until the door closed.

—---------

May, 2022

Roman didn’t consider himself the jealous type, maybe in his teens, even early college days, sure. But as a grown man, it’d never been an issue.

Until then.

His first mistake was agreeing to attend his cousins’ random ass party they were throwing for no reason other than they liked to organize shit like this every so often. They claimed it was to celebrate his Mania win over Brock a few weeks prior, but he knew better.

He didn't want to go. Not really, but it’d been a while, and he’d not attended the last few, something Jimmy threw in his face when trying to convince him to show up.

Well, he had, and he was regretting it almost immediately. Everyone in attendance worked for WWE in some capacity, and several of them other wrestlers he barely liked, didn’t like, or hated. The one person he didn’t really expect, though he wasn’t sure why, to be in attendance, was the sole reason for him struggling to contain his temper at that moment.

He didn’t know how he didn’t notice her presence sooner, but when he did, he both hated and loved what he saw.

Loved because she looked fucking amazing. Her thin sleeved, burgundy dress was short and hugged every curve seamlessly, her breast more exposed than he’d seen her dress before, and he was certain it wasn't intentional. She was heavy chested, so no matter what she wore, it was always nearly impossible for him to not notice her titites. Covered or not. Her hair was straight, the first time he’d seen it like so, and fell down her back as she laughed at something Carmelo said.

That was the hate.

She was talking to Carmelo Fucking Hayes. The kid definitely fell under the hate category. Not only was he annoying, he was pretentious and annoying. Believing himself better than he actually was. And now, he was talking to Alamea.

The only thing Roman would give him is that the kid had balls. Following that situation, and the bloodied, broken scene Roman left in the wake of his rage, word quickly spread around the locker room that Alamea wasn’t to be fucked with. In any sort of capacity.

And yet this little fucker thought he was beyond Roman’s law, which was what the ‘word’ really was. If the Tribal Chief wanted something, that automatically made it law. And, he didn’t want any other man on the roster speaking to Alamea, unless it was purely professional and business related.

Roman knew for a fact wasn’t shit business related regarding the conversation happening across the room.

To be fair, he really did try to distract himself, allowing Jaida Parker, a new NXT hire, convince him why they should leave together. It was a good effort, he’d give her that, but she didn’t compare to the woman whose smile instantly made him feel better, even on the shittiest day.

And, it was when Roman saw Hayes run his thumb over Alamea’s hand that his resolve broke. He completely ignored Jaida, moving up from his seat and making his way across the club. It seemed like only a few steps were needed to bring him to his destination, Alamea’s eyes falling on him with what he could swear was a look of appreciation.

“Get lost.” Was all he said to Hayes, moving in between the two of them, fully obscuring the other man’s view of her. Good. Dipshit didn’t need to even be looking at her, let alone speaking to her.

Hayes rolled his eyes, amused. “Come on, man, we was just talking. Or, can we not speak to her either?”

“No, you can’t.” Hayes was lucky that he was even getting the benefit of only being spoken to, because anywhere else, Roman would have let his fists do the talking for him. The kid was just that irritating to him. “And if you don’t get fucking lost now, you won’t be having a match tomorrow night or any night anytime soon cause I’m gonna bash your fucking head into this bar.”

Roman felt her move behind him and looked down when he saw her hand on his forearm. His gaze flitted to her eyes, fully aware of how her touch alone immediately caused his anger to settle.

“Let’s just go.”

Roman didn’t know how or fucking why, but it only took that one statement for him to do just as she asked. He took her hand and immediately began guiding her through the crowd of people who damn near parted like the red sea to make way for him.

Alamea struggled to keep up with his pace, partially because of the long strides he took due to his height but also those heels she stupidly decided to wear. He guided them up steps, which she realized led to one of the private rooms she saw him enter when he first arrived.

For a second, she grew nervous. She was pretty sure no one else was up there.

And, she was right.

It was just the two of them.

Alone.

It was only when they were in the room that he spoke, slamming the door behind him, “hate that fuckin’ kid.”

Alamea shrugged, quietly. “He’s persistent, but he seems harmless.”

At that, Roman turned and looked at her, “has he tried to talk to you before?”

“I’ve done a couple fittings for him,” she answered, unsure why he seemed annoyed at that. “He’s asked me out.”

Judging by the fire burning in his eyes, Alamea realized she could have left that last part out. “And what the hell did you tell him?”

She was unsure where this was coming from, maybe exhaustion from feeling confused by Roman’s mixed signals over the past few two months. How he'd flop back and forth between talking to her and the pretending like she didn't exist. “Why do you care?”

He was surprised by her counter. “I care, because I made it clear that none of these fuckers were to talk to you, and if Hayes is defying my orders, then that’s a problem I need to handle.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” she defended. Alamea may not have been interested in Hayes in that way, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be subjected to Roman’s anger. No one needed that. “He’s pushy but respectful. Nothing like….like Theory.” Her voice went soft, not wanting to revisit that dark memory. She shook her head. “I appreciate your help, but you can’t dictate who I can and can’t talk to.”

“Do you like him?” She was unsure whether it was her pushing back against him or something else, but his anger seemed to only be intensifying. It was controlled, as much as Roman Reigns could control himself. But, it was definitely there.

“No.” The answer was easy. Carmelo may have been decent, but he didn’t spark her interest, didn’t make her stomach do all sorts of flips at the sound of his voice, didn't command her attention with just his presence. No…..no, that would be someone else. “Would you care if I did?”

“You could do better than him.” Was his safe answer, though it was an answer that didn’t match his actions. Because he was moving in her direction at the same time she was moving back. “You deserve better than him.”

Alamea wasn’t sure why she was backing away when she only wanted to move closer, to have his body up against hers. “Yeah?” Her voice was light, and she gasped quietly when her ass hit the door, leaving her nowhere else to go as Roman closed in. She licked her lips when he was directly in front of her, one hand braced against the door, the other on her hip. “Like who?”

“Jesus Christ….”

Alamea couldn’t deny that she’s imagined what it would be like to kiss Roman Reigns. She wasn’t blind. No one could deny how damn attractive this man is, his aura, his demeanor, that strong body that emanated power and authority. Everything about him was so appealing to her, but it wasn't until that moment she realized how good it would be to kiss Roman.

He kissed like he did everything else in life, with intention and purpose. His mouth was hungry and ravenous for her, and when she moved her hands to his rock hard abs, it was like that ignited something in him. He groaned into their kiss and moved his hands to the back of her thighs, hiking her up on his waist.

She gasped, not once breaking their kiss, even as he brought them to the sofa and fell back. She was straddling him, his hands moving all over her body, squeezing her ass. She moaned in his mouth as he broke their kiss and lowered his mouth to her neck.

“Roman…” She gasped as he sucked on her neck, somehow finding that spot that had her vision blurring. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he kneaded her breast with his big hands, before moving one hand under her dress to squeeze her ass, which had her moaning again but also realizing they were moving fast. Too fast.

For this setting, at least.

She breathed, managing a pained. “W–wait.”

He acquiesced, but there was a hint of irritation in his lustful gaze. "What?"

She licked her swollen lips. This was it. This was her moment to back away, to remember all the warnings she'd been given when she first started this job. To draw the line in the sand and set boundaries. To make him explain what was with all the hot and cold days. To get some answers.

But, right there, in that moment, she didn't want any of that. Didn't really care about any of that.

She just wanted him, and judging by the growing erection she could feel pressed against her wet panties, he felt the same.

And, she wasn't about to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity.

“Let’s get out of here.”

—------

June, 2022

It’d become a routine really.

A few times a week, sometimes every night during particularly stressful weeks, Alamea would find Roman standing outside her hotel room. Few, if any, words were exchanged before he had her up on the bathroom counter, the table in the middle of the room, or laid out on the bed, his head buried between her legs. It seemed to be his favorite way to start.

And, then he fucked her. Thoroughly. Like most things he did.

Always to her pleasure though.

Alamea would struggle to explain to anyone just how this arrangement started. How a one night stand turned into that. Partially because she herself was still struggling to understand it. It wasn’t romantic, no matter how much she may have wished it was, or tried to convince herself otherwise. It was an itch that she seemed to be able to scratch for some reason. Pleasurable for both of them with low (no) commitment. He got his. She got hers. He left.

That….that was the part she always struggled with the most.

She knew deep down she wasn’t made for such an arrangement. She felt too deeply, cared too much, all for a man who’d only ever seemed interested in using her body to relieve some stress. But, it was that same stress she felt that made her want more. She knew he’d never admit it, but Roman always came to her with a weight he didn’t outwardly show. Not really, anyway. She’d heard him refer to the weight he carried, but no one really ever really saw that weight.

Except for her.

He had small telltale signs. Like the way he sat with his chin in his hand, focused on nothing before him, deep in thought. Or how he sometimes slapped the wall of the locker room after a match or a promo that didn’t go well. Running his hand over his face and through his beard.

She knew it was unhealthy, knew that the longer it went on, the longer her unrequited feelings would grow. There was only one outcome, and it wasn’t in her favor. He’d be fine. He’d have lost nothing. She’d be the one left devastated and heartbroken.

And in spite of it all, she still allowed him into her room damn near every night. Inside of her.

She tried to convince herself it was because the sex was too damn good to give up, and that wasn’t a lie. He may have been only one of six people she’d ever been with, but he easily shot to the top of that already short list. Roman was a quick learner, easily picking up on what she liked, what made her scream, the things that made her beg for him not to stop. It was an ego stroke for him, of that, she was sure. But, it was also so damn good for her, too.

It was hard to give up something that felt good in the moment. Even if the crash and burn would be one for epic proportions.

Still, Alamea did her best to fight her feelings, to minimize them from growing more than they already had. And for a minute, a very brief, short minute, she thought that she was getting better. She didn’t wake up in the middle of the night and feel a pang in her chest when seeing she was alone yet again. Didn’t feel hurt when he barely said more than a few words to her during the day. She knew that was just how it was.

And, then it happened.

She woke up at some ungodly hour, something she’d done since a girl. A random waking before succumbing back to slumber. Alamea made an incoherent sound and went to turn over when she felt it.

The muscled arm wrapped securely around her, holding her still and close to the equally muscular chest. For a brief second, she panicked, because there was no way in hell Roman was sleeping beside her. She’d be more likely to have a random intruder than the Head of the Table in her bed for something other than sex.

But, in managing to angle her body so she was on her back, Alamea saw that hell hath frozen over. Roman was sleeping, a peaceful expression upon his handsome face.

What….the….fuck?

She was panicking, clearly, because why? Never, ever had this man spent the night with her. He’d stick around for a little bit, but never longer than what was necessary. And now, he was just…sleeping.

When the surprise settled, she took in the moment, took in how relaxed he appeared, how at peace he was. No pressure from the family, from the fans, from himself. Just…peaceful.

And with her.

Peace with her.

She chewed on her bottom lip and found herself reaching to push the hair from out of his face. But, she stopped, caught it, scolding herself for risking waking him up, risking ruining this moment. Because that’s all it was. A single moment. It wasn’t indicative of anything other than someone who decided to just camp out instead of going back to his own room.

That painful but necessary reminder allowed her to turn back on her side without disturbing him, as she fell back into a sleep that allowed her to escape her disappointing reality.

But.

But, if she’d remained awake just a few seconds longer, she’d have felt the tug of her body into his chest and lips graze her temple.

—----------

July, 2022

“Does he eat pussy?”

“Mom!”

“What?” She sucked her teeth. “I’m making sure, because I did not raise you girls to be with selfish lovers. If he ain’t reciprocating, don’t be giving.”

“Of course, he does,” Paris handled that answer, but not without offering her own. “The better question is if he uses Viagra?”

“Don’t be silly, girl.” Alamea’s mother, Taylor, dismissed. “He’s not your daddy.”

London was the first to protest that time. “Mama!”

“Why are we even talking about this?” Alamea groaned, going to rub her temples but remembering the cucumber face mask working its magic on her skin. “I just wanted this to be a nice little moment.”

“He’s not little, is he?”

“Mama, please.” Alamea released another groan, throwing her body back against the temple.

“Ain’t he like 6 something? That would be wild if he is.” London shook her head, her image on Alamea’s iPad partially distorted from the poor signal. “But, also….”

“I am going to hang up on all of you.”

A mouth full of popcorn didn’t stop Paris from protesting. “You better not!”

She was very much tempted to, but she didn’t, because as unhinged Alamea's family could be, she loved them deeply. Missed home and being away from them as long as she had. Missed these almost traditional type of monthly meeting they would have. When she still lived back in Virginia, once a month, they’d bounce around at everyone’s place, though usually the family home for the sake of space, and gather together with food, skincare, and a show they all shared the same love for.

Usually Martin or One Tree Hill.

It was something they’d done for years, and Alamea being on the road all the time wasn’t enough to stop it. Hence why she had her sisters and mom on a group FaceTime while season 3, episode 1 of One Tree Hill played on her TV and the TV’s of her family.

“We just want to know, baby,” came Taylor’s voice. Alamea sighed once more. Of course, they did.

When people referenced that famous “I’m a cool mom” line from Mean Girls, they were actually talking about Taylor Dixon. For as far back as Alamea could remember, her mom was always an open book, willing and ready to talk about anything.

She had a relaxed, non-judgmental outlook on any and all things. She was also….eccentric in her methods. Giving her girls “the talk” using Alamea’s MyScene dolls probably a bit sooner than her youngest child really needed to know such things.

The minute Alamea hit an age that ended with ‘teen,’ Taylor was stressing that as soon as Alamea started to think about sex, let her know, and they could get her started on birth control. Not to mention the bowl of condoms she kept conveniently located on the fireplace mantle.

Hell, when Alamea lost her virginity, a group call with her sisters and mom was one of the first things she did. A given considering how….anticlimactic it was.

In a lot of ways, Taylor felt more like the biggest sister of the group but still managed to fulfill all the maternal needs of a mother.

So, when Alamea said her mom was one of her best friends, she meant that shit.

Except right now, because all of the invasive ass questions about her sex life were the last thing she expected this call to entail.

It was also the last thing she needed, really, because lately, Alamea found herself thinking of Roman in different ways. Thinking of them in different ways. Imagining what it would be like if it was more than just sex.

If they could ever be more.

A dangerous line of thinking, for sure.

“Alamea….” Taylor’s voice shifting to something serious captured the attention of all of her girls. There was always something important to be said when their mom slipped from her usual carefree disposition. “I just want you to be careful.”

“We are, mama,” she murmured. For the most part.

There were definitely some moments where the pull out method was utilized, but for the most part, a condom was always used when they fucked.

Taylor shook her head as Alamea looked at her through the screen. “I don’t mean like that.” She frowned, taking a deep breath. “I mean with your heart.” Alamea stilled, moving to hit pause on the TV and judging by the silence on Paris and London’s ends, they had, too. “Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s great you’re embracing your sexuality and enjoying a good, fun sex life, but you’re also my child, and I know you. I know that you care and feel deeply, and I just….I just want to make sure you’re not catching feelings in a situation where, based upon what you’ve told us, that’s not what he’s looking for.”

Alamea remained quiet, hating how her mom always knew just what to say and when to say it. Even if she didn’t necessarily want to hear it. Even if it’s probably what she needed to hear.

“Mama’s right,” Paris sounded, expression sympathetic. “He’s also, what? Almost 40? If he hasn’t settled down by now with anyone, it’s…it’s not likely to be you, Alamea.” Hard words to hear but presented almost gently, her oldest sister clearly trying her best to be empathetic. “It’s a fun fling. Enjoy it while you can, but protect your heart.”

Alamea looked at the faces of her closest confidants, doing her best to let their words marinate and create a form of defense for just that. Feelings. But, it was hard to do so when she was certain that feelings had already started to grow, even if, as they all pointed out, it was stupid to do so.

Roman wasn’t that type. The type to ever date her or want anything more than just the ‘kinda friends but not really with definite benefits’ arrangement they had. She was better served, as they suggested, enjoying the time for what it was.

Not what it could never be.

—----------

July, 2022

It happened again.

But, different this time. Whether for better or worse…that remained to be seen.

She fell asleep with him beside her and woke up in the middle of the night with him still in bed with her. This time though, she’d found herself up against him, her arm around his body and her head on his chest. Alamea didn’t know what to make of that, especially when she realized he was still awake, his hand making soft, shapeless movements on the small of her back.

She closed her eyes to go back to sleep, refusing to ruin anything about the moment, wanting to capture it in a bottle and hold onto it forever.

“Tell me something about you.”

She didn’t expect him to stay, didn’t expect him to be holding her like he was, and she definitely didn’t expect this man to want to pillow talk with her.

And yet….

“I—” She wasn’t sure what to say, not really knowing what he was specifically looking for. “I have two living siblings. They’re older than me.”

“You’re the baby….” He said it like it made everything make sense. “Are they quiet like you?”

She laughed. “Not at all.” She adjusted her body, moving closer to him. He tugged her closer, too. “My middle sister, London, she’s always been relatively carefree. Likes to joke around a lot. Imagine a much tamer version of the twins.”

He chuckled. “Definitely not like you then.”

“And my oldest sister, Paris—”

“Your sisters' names are London and Paris?” The disbelief in his voice along with the fact that she could literally imagine the scowl on his face only made it that much better.

“My mother always wanted to name her kids after places she’s always wanted to visit.”

“And your dad agreed to that?” Rolling her eyes, she flicked the side of his chest.

“Shut up.” Another low chuckle, as she continued. “Anyway, Paris is the opposite. She’s….a bit of a control freak, sometimes. But, she means well.”

“Hmm.” He said nothing, and then asked, almost tentatively. “You said living….”

Alamea quieted. It’d been a while since she’d spoken about that. She didn’t really like talking about it, but something about it, about him, made her feel like she could. “Dallas,” she whispered. “He…umm…he passed away when I was in high school.”

That’s it. Nothing else. She wasn’t sure what there was to say after something like that.

“My sister passed away when I was away at college.”

She stilled against him, unsure of what to say, how to respond, what would be potentially helpful or even comforting to him in that moment. Even though, deep down, she knew firsthand there was nothing to say or do to comfort that kind of loss. It was something always just….there.

“I’m sorry,” was the response she settled on. Quiet and empathetic. Not sympathetic, not that overt contrition that people typically offered that made things somehow worse. She wouldn’t offend him with that.

He didn’t say anything after that.

Neither did she.

—-------

November, 2022

Oh hot damn, this is my jam

Keep me partying 'til the AM

Y'all don't understand, make me throw my hands

In the ayer, ay-ayer, ayer, ay-ayer

Eyes closed, body swaying, Alamea was in the zone. Completely wasted, only aware of the fact that she was in Roman’s nice, big ass hotel room, dancing on the table to one of her favorite party songs.

Actually, everything that played so far was her favorite song. Cyclone. Low. Birthday Song. Freak Hoe (Speaker Knockerz). Real Sisters.

Jimmy was a good ass DJ.

It was her, Naomi, Jey, Jimmy, Sami, and, of course, Roman. Solo and Paul had dipped a while ago. When, she wasn’t sure, she just knew she hadn’t seen them for a minute. Except, the Tribal Chief remained the only sober one, clearly and visibly annoyed with the hot ass, drunken mess the majority of his Bloodline were at that moment.

He’d known the minute the twins suggested they celebrate the Bloodline’s War Games win that it was going to be some mess, and he was right.

Some mess, it certainly was.

“Aye, aye, aye,” Jey slurred, stumbling over to the table where Alamea continued to dance despite the song fading to an end. “This the life, ain’t it? Shit, we should do this every night!”

The group cheered, as Roman sighed heavily.

Over his dead body.

A new song played, another one he recognized but gave no other indication as he watched their drunk asses overreact.

“This is my song!” Naomi shouted, moving over and climbing onto the table with Alamea.

(Yeah) Party like a rock, party like a rockstar

(Y-y-yeah) Party like a rock, party like a rockstar

(Y-y-yeah) Party like a rockstar, t-t-totally, dude

The women sang along as Jimmy and Jey headbanged, Naomi somehow not wasting or spilling the drinks in her hand. And, Sami….Roman had no idea what the fuck Sami was doing. Moving erratically, dancing, in his own sort of way. He looked like he was having complications from an exorcism or some shit.

They were all a hot fucking mess.

Alamea’s eyes opened as she landed on Roman who sat quiet and partially irritated, prompting her to giggle to herself. Holding onto a dancing Naomi’s shoulder, she made her way off the table and stumbled over to him.

She frowned, looking at her empty hand, wondering where her red solo cup had gone.

“I took it,” he answered, forcing her gaze back on him. “You’ve had enough.”

At that, she pouted, “you’re no fun.” He said nothing as she moved closer, standing in front of him, pulling down her dress that just kept sliding up, her ass too much to keep it where it needed to be.

“What are you doing?” His voice sounded strained, but she ignored it, starting to dance in front of him. But, it was short-lived, because it was like she suddenly remembered there was another attendee other than himself and his family.

“Friend!” She shouted, way too excitedly, stumbling over to Sami, starting to dance with him.

On him.

Roman’s jaw clenched.

Alamea was having the time of her drunken life, dancing with her new bestest friend in the whole world, Stan.

Wait, no. That wasn’t his name.

Fuck.

What was it?

Shmuel?

Yeah, that!

“BFF’s,” she said, attempting to imitate the handshake he did with the twins.

“Come here.” Came the deep voice of Roman who’d stood up, marching over to grab a hold of her. Naturally, she swayed and leaned into his hard body as he escorted her right back over to where he was sitting on the sofa.

On his lap.

A drunken smile fell on her pretty face. “Right here?” He looked down at her as she grasped at his shirt. “In front of e–everyone?” She shifted atop his lap, gasping at the feel of him slightly hard underneath her. “Oops.”

His jaw clenched once more, but for a different reason.

Except, the song changing again served as a maybe necessary distraction. Not the best though.

“I love this song!” She shouted, repositioning herself so that she was sitting forward on his lap, wiggling, feeling his bulge press against her partially exposed center as her skimpy dress rose up yet again over thick thighs and ass.

You wanna see some ass?

I wanna see sum cash

Keep dem dollars comin

And das gonna make me dance

Alamea danced on top of Roman, twerking her ass all up and on him as Naomi did something similar to Jimmy who mimicked the motion of backshots. Jey and Sami stood to the side, throwing up cash bills, donning sunglasses that Roman hadn’t the slightest clue where they’d gotten them.

But, while Alamea was having the time of her life, along with seemingly majority of the party, Roman was clearly not.

“Enough of this shit,” he hissed, reaching for the remote to turn off the music.

“Hey!” She protested, frowning, eyes blinking. “I–I–I was listening to t–that.”

“Party’s over,” he announced, uncaring. His gaze fell over to his cousins, Naomi, and Sami. “All ya’ll drunk asses need to go back to your rooms.”

Sounds of protest from attendees, Jey hiccuping as he swayed and fell onto the sofa. “Man, I ain’t even that—that drunk, uce.”

Naomi pointed to Sami. “What h–he said!”

Sami’s eyes widened, asking no one but himself, “what did I say?”

Roman shut his eyes, reaching for his phone and sending a text for the Wise Man to come over. Never mind it was 3am, he wasn’t about to deal with this shit.

And, he didn’t.

Less than ten minutes later, Paul was present, escorting the inebriated parties back to their rooms, all of which were conveniently located just a few doors down from Roman. But, still, given how wasted they all were, he wouldn’t trust them to walk in a straight line, let alone to the right hotel room.

Paul had just finished with Jey, who'd he heard saying something about getting Waffle House, when the Wise Man went for Alamea who continued to dance, listening to some song through her phone.

But, Roman stopped him.

“I’ll take care of her,” was all he said, and it was all that was needed.

Paul left the Tribal Chief alone.

A few minutes later, Alamea became aware that it was really just herself and Roman. “Well,” she elongated the ‘l’ and started to look around, as if searching for something. Her purse, most likely. “I–I guess I—should get g–going.” Shrugging, she attempted to walk past him, of course, stumbling seconds later.

Roman caught her, looking down at her. Naturally, his eyes set on her titties, sitting nice and perfect in that little dress of hers. “Naw.” She looked up, warm brown eyes wide and full lips formed into a pout. “You’ll stay with me tonight, baby girl.”

Alamea blinked, hating and not understanding why her stomach fluttered at that. At the nickname.

It’s not like it was the first time he’d called her something other than her government, so what was different?

“I—I don’t—” She stopped, falling and leaning into his chest. Her eyes shut. She was suddenly so tired, and he just felt so good.

He did nothing, just standing there holding her as the music continued to play from the phone in her hand.

Got me lost, got me hooked, now I'm so confused

Was this a part of your plan?

I don't really understand what to do

What to do with a boy like you?

They remained that way for a few minutes before Roman finally lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. He sat her on the counter, opting to only wash her face, removing makeup for her. He’d have helped her shower, if not for the fact he was certain she’d probably pass out before he could finish.

So, he skipped that, helping her out of her dress and into one of his shirts. Alamea became slightly more cognizant when he carried her once more into the bedroom, laying her down, pulling the covers over her, making sure she was good before leaving her alone.

She wasn’t exactly sure where he went, but her guess would be to clean up some of the mess they’d made.

However, that was the least of her concerns, because her drunken haze wasn’t enough to stop her from thinking about his actions. How he….how took care of her. Like….like he cared.

Music no longer playing, Roman having stopped it, leaving her phone on the nightstand, the lack of Kesha’s voice didn’t stop the lyrics from playing on repeat in Alamea’s head.

Got me lost, got me hooked, now I'm so confused

A song and lyrics she’d heard a million times over before, they’d never felt or rang more true than in that moment.

—------

December, 2022

The last thing Alamea expected or needed was Roman Reigns waiting for her in her hotel room.

But, that was exactly what she got.

Ever since that night of their impromptu party, that something had shifted between them. She didn't know what, just that he’d reverted back to his old ways of mostly ignoring her during the days. He was still outside of her door more often than not, but he didn’t stay anymore. Sometimes leaving as soon as they were done.

It was….confusing, to say the least. Hurtful as hell, to say the most.

Blowing out a breath, she bumped the door shut with her hip and locked it. “Not tonight,” she murmured. She couldn’t tonight.

Physically and emotionally.

“Where the hell have you been?”

She just looked over at him. It was obvious he was pissed, and any other time, she’d be nervous by his tone and expression. But, not tonight. Just….not tonight.

Alamea stepped out of her heels and threw her purse to the side, finally answering, “out.”

She realized she’d yet to maintain eye contact with him, a partially intentional act on her part. But, trying to move past Roman Reigns without answering a question posed to you was never a good idea.

He shot up off the bed and blocked her path, a solid wall of prevention. “You’re drunk,” he assessed, eyes going over her from head to toe. He looked displeased. Oh fucking well.

“I had a drink or two. I’m not drunk,” she argued, feeling a sense of defensiveness that clearly came from the alcohol in her system. “Now, can you please move? I’m tired, and I can’t do this with you tonight.”

“Do what?” He sounded both annoyed and confused, the latter of two just pissing her off.

“Roman, please.” She ran her hand over her hair and closed her eyes. “It’s been a rough day. I just want to go to bed.”

He looked down at her, a line of fire flashing in his eyes. “Were you with someone?”

At that, her head snapped up. Irritation covered her face, moving its way up her body. The absolute audacity for him to not only ask her that but to seem annoyed?

The alcohol had her emboldened but not stupid. She murmured, “you’re impossible.” Foolishly, she tried to move past him again, only for him to lift his arm, barring her. “Ro–”

“I’m not going to ask you again, Alamea.” She closed her eyes. “Were you—”

“Fine!” She snapped. If her volume or outburst surprised him, he did an excellent job not showing it. “You want to fuck me? Fine! Fuck me!” She pushed him away and marched over to the bed, starting to remove her earrings. “How do you want me, huh? On my back? On my knees? What will it be tonight?”

Roman turned towards her, looking less angry and more confused. That only made her more upset. “What the hell are you doing?”

“This is what you wanted, right?” She continued, using the hair tie on her wrist to put her hair up. “This is all you ever want.”

It was that statement that caused the anger to completely slide away as Roman realized what was happening. “Ally—”

“Come on!” She reached back, probably for the zipper of her dress. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To get your itch scratched, so let’s get to it.”

“Would you shut up?” His tone was softer, volume lower. He stepped toward her, reaching to lower her arms. “Stop it.”

“Why?” She snapped once more, trying to tug her arms out of his reach. “You need to get what you came here for, right? Why else would you bother with me if not to get your dick wet?” Roman didn’t show it, but it was off for him seeing and hearing that from her. Alamea was a lot of things, but drunk, angry, and incoherent would never be any terms he’d use to describe her. Maybe omit the latter of the terms, she may have been drunk and angry, but he was following her just fine. “So, do it. Fuck me. Fuck me and leave like you always do.”

It was the way her voice cracked at the word ‘always’ that did something to him, made him pissed all over again.

He fucking hated seeing her cry.

“What are you waiting for?” She was beating on his chest, the tears flowing freely. “Just do it.” She sobbed. “Just leave me.”

“C’mere,” he whispered, moving his hand to the back of her neck. “Look at me.” His tone was soothing, free hand moving to her waist, holding her. He waited until she settled her eyes on him. “You wanna know why I leave?” Alamea didn’t say anything, just nodded quietly, her tears still reflecting, taunting him. He shut his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t function when I’m with you.”

Alamea wasn’t sure what she expected him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. And she definitely didn’t expect him to continue. “All I fucking think about is you. Your smile. Your scent. Your taste. I’m with you, and all I want to do is stay because everything is simple with you. No pressure. No weight. It’s just me and you.”

And it was true, every fucking word that he never thought he could find in him to verbalize. But, he was a selfish bastard, too selfish to realize that letting her go was exactly what he should have done.

But, as true as all of that was, he could never and would never say that to her face. Not when she was sober. No, he could only say it then, because she was drunk, and he’d seen Alamea drunk. Knew good and well her memory of the night prior would be all but non-existent.

It was a confession that wouldn’t hold or stand, because she wouldn’t remember it come tomorrow.

Roman wiped at her tears, and she clutched onto his shirt. She didn’t know how to even begin to process what he was saying, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol in her system.

“I told you before, Alamea, I’m not a good man.” His voice grew soft, and she could have sworn she saw his eyes gloss over. “I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be what you deserve.”

It was when he attempted to pull away that Alamea broke from her haze of surprise. She released the knot of his shirt in her hand and slowly moved her hand up his chest, resting it over his heart. “This….” Her smile faltered, battling with the defeated frown that was impatiently waiting its turn. “This is all I want.”

He said nothing, and neither did she. Not after that. Both silent for different reasons. Alamea because she wasn’t sure how they were to move forward from this, what happened after tonight.

And, for Roman, it was less confusion regarding what happened next and more the fact that Alamea was desiring something she already had.

—-----

2023

In 2023, Roman modified his schedule. He wasn’t part time, per se, but he certainly wasn’t full time like he used to be. He stopped attending every show, his appearances being something more of a surprise than anything.

That also meant his dynamic with Alamea changed. If he wasn’t at work, that meant that she didn’t see him as much, that their arrangement shifted from something consistent and frequent to the polar opposite.

It was an…adjustment for her, for sure.

Beneficial in a lot of ways, as it freed up some of her time, allowing to work with and design for other superstars. But, it also left a sort of void that she couldn’t allow herself to think too much about. Too difficult.

What she couldn’t ignore though was the slow and gradual implosion. Tension. Ego. And many other things that started to infiltrate her work family. As great as Alamea viewed Roman, she could acknowledge that he could be….a lot.

In not the best ways.

Ways that were starting to directly impact his Bloodline.

It started with Sami. His loyalty to the Bloodline waning and completely gone with a single chair to Roman’s back. An already sensitive topic and area for The Tribal Chief. That seemed to mark the beginning of the end of it all, because before she knew it, not only was Sami gone, but so was Jey.

That was especially hard for her. Over the past year plus, she’d grown so close to all the members. Especially the twins. They were like her brothers, and for someone who’d already lost her only real brother, it was like reopening a wound that never fully healed in the first place.

She knew it was hard for Roman, too. Not that he’d admit it. He’d hint at it during pillow talk, but a full, honest acknowledgement of how he’d unintentionally caused the dissolution was something she knew that she’d never hear.

Even if it was true.

He still had Solo. Still had Jimmy.

Still had her, and for him, that seemed to be enough.

If only she felt the same.

But, again, Roman being gone for what felt like the majority of the time helped in other ways. She focused more on work and started thinking more about her future outside of WWE. While she loved designing gear for the superstars, she found herself thinking more and more about the long-term. If she could see her doing it for the rest of her life. If she would be satisfied. She wasn’t sure.

She did know, however, that the idea of trying to launch her own clothing brand seemed more than appealing. Maybe opening up a small boutique back home was looking more and more like a possibility and reality. Because being on the road was fun sometimes, but she often found herself missing home more and more. She missed being around her family.

So, maybe a couple more years, and she’d venture back home, establishing roots there.

Maybe start to lean into the idea of settling down. It was something she knew she always wanted. A husband and family, but it was never a big priority. She wanted to establish and be comfortable in her career first. And, she had. Being the Bloodline’s lead designer along with other close friendships with the other superstars had given her a decent sized online following.

That could definitely be helpful when it came time, maybe, for her to establish her brand.

But, thinking of her future also meant figuring out her present. And, Alamea was starting to see that while she definitely missed Roman when he wasn’t around, it wasn’t….it wasn’t unbearable. She was happy to see him when he came around, but she was also learning how to navigate a life around him.

Without him.

And, maybe, just maybe, that could be a thing she could learn to make a reality.

She tried, at least, downloading a few dating apps. It felt silly though. At 26, using apps to find potential romantic interests seemed like an almost embarrassing thing. It also didn’t work out very well given her insane travel schedule. Still, it was nice to have men to talk to.

Even…even Carmleo was nice to talk to from time to time.

If only Roman could function with that last part and not act a goddamn fool afterwards.

He’d shown up one show for an unadvertised appearance, saw her talking to Melo backstage, and fucked her completely into that damn mattress later that night.

It felt less like a care thing, and more Roman being possessive. Whatever that meant, because Alamea didn’t know a lot, but one thing she did know was that she was not his. Not in any meaningful way. They fucked, and that was it.

Right?

—----------

2024

He never said goodbye.

Not necessarily in between his sporadic appearances. Where he would show up to work in the morning, do his thing in the evening, appear outside her door at night, and be gone the following morning. At some point, when him leaving right after the deed was done transitioned into him staying longer, holding her, pillow talk, staying the night, he’d mention it. Tell her that he’d be on the jet back home in the morning.

And, he’d do just as he stated, being gone by the time she woke up the following morning ready to travel to their next stop.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

So, it wasn’t that goodbye she didn’t get.

It was the one following Mania.

His loss at Mania.

He’d only spoken to the Wise Man, given a few orders, and he’d boarded that jet with not as much as a single look at her. No text. No call.

Nothing.

And, it’d been that way for four long months. Four months filled with nothing but stress and anxiety. Roman’s fall at WrestleMania left the Bloodline in shambles, all but extinct. It was already on the brink of collapse, what with the turbulent exits of Sami and Jey, but it seemed Roman losing to Cody truly cemented that.

He’d failed, according to Solo, and failure, as deemed by Roman himself, was always unacceptable.

Roman was labeled a disgrace and therefore unfit to lead the Bloodline. New leadership was needed, according to Solo, who also felt that he was the right person to do so.

Alamea didn’t agree, but at the end of the day, her opinion didn’t matter. She was just there.

Solo ousted Jimmy, the last piece of what used to be her normal. Brought on new, distant, dangerous family members. It started with Tama, who’d never not made her feel uncomfortable. Then Tonga. He was less erratic as his brother but equally unhinged, just in a subtle way.

And then there was Jacob.

He was just fucking terrifying.

Everything that was happening felt frightening. Alamea partially expected Solo to also kick her out. She was hoping for that, but instead, he made her stay. Kept her close. Forced her to watch as he and the new Bloodline wreaked havoc. And, it wasn’t that the OG Bloodline wasn’t equally volatile, but there was always a method to the madness. Roman was methodical and strategic.

Solo just felt like a little boy stomping his feet trying to prove that he was old enough and ready to sit at the big kids’ table.

At the head of the table.

Week by week, it seemed to go from bad to worse. The only thing that helped was Paul. That he too shared her horror at what was being done. The massive undone of all of Roman’s hard work. The erasure of him. The disrespect of his legacy, but for all the poking and prodding that bear, the bear…never came.

Roman never showed up.

Never replied to any of Paul’s texts and calls, something she inquired about every damn day.

Never replied to any of her calls and texts.

He’d completely abandoned them.

Abandoned her.

And, he never even said fucking goodbye.

—-------

August, 2024

Alamea always had a bad feeling about Summer Slam. A small part of her was hoping that it would be Roman’s return, despite four months of no contact. But, that hope went right out the window when the new Bloodline finally turned on Paul and landed him in the hospital and out on indefinite leave.

Because if that couldn’t drag Roman out of hiding, what could?

And, it only worsened when she was told the day that they wanted her out, ringside.

She’d paled.

They’d never asked that before, and despite offering no clarification or direction, she knew exactly why.

They wanted her to interfere and help Solo win the match.

Win the Undisputed Title from Cody Rhodes.

Roman’s title.

And, in the strangest of ways, it was right then and there when she realized what they were asking—telling—of her, she knew what she had to do.

There was interference. As expected. New or OG, if there was one thing the Bloodline would always do, it was make sure whatever man or men was/were in the ring would come out on top.

It was a common, shared understanding thing.

Not for Alamea.

Four months of being and feeling helpless bled over into a newfound, insurmountable amount of indignation and defiance. Tama and Tonga were out of the picture, somewhere battling it out with Kevin Owens and Randy Orton, who’d come out to even the odds.

Jacob was down and injured, his leg fucked up, but that didn’t stop him from yelling at her.

“Distract his ass!”

He was referring to the referee, and the moment was perfect. Solo had the upper hand and was clearly wearing Rhodes down. All she had to do was capture and sustain his attention last enough for Solo to get in a cheap, illegal shot and do it. Secure the win.

Standing on the sidelines, the roar of the audience, the chill of the Cleveland air, the rapid beating of her heart, it was all so much.

“Ally!” Solo leaned over the rope, body sweaty and exerted. She winced. Only Roman had called her that. It felt wrong coming from Solo’s mouth. “Get me that damn chair!”

He was pointing to the ready, open, available chair only a couple feet away from a grounded Jacob.

She looked at the chair, looked at Jacob, looked at Solo, and with every single piece of frustration that had been building up over the four months, she said without a single stutter.

“Go to hell, Solo.”

Those in close enough vicinity expressed sounds of shock. Jacob was spazzing, but when was he not?

Solo, however, he was enraged.

She tried to move, tried to run, but he was too fast. It seemed like it only took a matter of seconds for him to move out the ring, grabbing and dragging her by her hair into the ring.

“No!” She’d shouted, trying to fight against him, but was no good. “Let me go!”

“You ungrateful bitch!” He’d yanked her head back, yelling and screaming in her face, spit flying. “I would have given you everything! I’m your Tribal Chief!”

The hell you are.

She would and was preparing to say as such, but the moment was taken from her the minute Cody came from behind, grabbing Solo, effectively separating them. Knocked off her feet, she stumbled into the corner, watching Rhodes do his signature Cross Rhodes move.

To this day, she’s still uncertain if it was to save her or take advantage of a distracted opponent.

But, it was a short-lived upper-hand, because less than a minute later, Cody was back on his ass and Solo was on his feet, moving towards her. And, once more, she was on her feet, his hand tightly gripping her hair, but this time, a different position. One arm extended and holding her out, the other also extended, thumb protruding, Alamea knew all too well what was going to happen next.

But, it didn’t.

It didn’t because the sound of rhythmic drums and flashing blue lights broke everything. The momentum. The moment. The fucking atmosphere.

For the first time in months, Solo and Alamea shared something. The wide eyed look of disbelief on both of their faces as the crowd all moved to their feet, screaming and shouting in anticipation for what so many—Alamea and Solo included—believed impossible.

But, then she saw it.

She saw him, and he looked livid.

Alamea cried out in pain when Solo roughly shoved her into the post, pain shooting through her shoulder. On the mat, she held onto her arm, the burning intensifying, face scrunched up in pain.

She wasn’t looking, too consumed in her discomfort and the shock of it all to see it was at seeing her reaction—the pain on her face—that made Roman waste no time getting into the ring.

And, at the same time he unleashed months worth of pent-up rage onto his younger cousin, the ref helped her out of the ring, another referee meeting them and escorting her to the back.

One look over her shoulder, however, would find Roman looking directly at her.

—---------

Alamea would love to say that that was it. That him randomly showing up after months of being MIA and straight up ignoring her was it. The straw that broke the camel’s back. That despite him showing up and essentially saving her, it didn’t make a difference.

That she was finally done after that.

But, she can’t.

She can’t because that would be a lie.

Did she give him an earful when he, of course, showed up later that night outside her hotel room, as always?

Sure.

Never mind the fact that the first thing he did was welcome himself inside of said room, immediately and gently reaching for her arm, inspecting her shoulder, asking, “you alright?”

No. No, she was not alright.

“I’m fine.”

A lie. A fucking lie.

“What the hell, Roman?” She yelled, pacing across the hotel room as he sat silent on the edge of the bed. “Paul and I were texting and calling you for months with no response, and then you just show up tonight like everything is fine?”

His gaze remained focused on the floor, his voice even and calm. She hated it. “Nothing is fine, Ally.”

“No shit,” she scoffed, shaking her head, rubbing her temples. “Roman….you abandoned us.”

You abandoned me.

Had she been looking at him, she’d seen his jaw tick at that. At the word abandoned. “I needed to clear my head, Alamea.”

“So, say that,” she snapped, finally stopping to look and focus on him, regardless of his lack of eye-contact. “Communicate with us, Roman. It’s been a fucking nightmare—” Alamea winced seeing his reaction to her poor choice of words, but it didn’t stop her from expressing months worth of frustration. “You lost, and I get that was hard for you, but leaving us here to deal with all this mess was not fair, and you know it.”

Leaving me here.

“I know that.” His eyes lifted to hers, finally, and she immediately regretted it, because him looking at her like that, almost….sympathetic. Apologetic. It….it didn’t help. “And, I’m sorry.”

That definitely didn’t help.

“Are you?” A pointed challenge but valid question, nonetheless. She crossed her arms, the pain in her shoulder almost non-existent largely due to the Tylenol she’d been given by the trainers. “Because that would mean you actually care.”

He was silent.

“You think I don’t care?”

A simple question. If only a simple answer was available. Though unnecessary, because Roman was on his feet, in front of her and on her before she could truly process what kind of answer she wanted to give him.

His lips were on her, igniting a fire she didn’t realize she’d missed so much until that moment. Roman always kissed with intent and purpose, neither of which were unclear in that moment. She grasped at his face, holding him closer, his mouth dominating her.

Her hand went to the bottom of his shirt, eager to lift it off, to feel taut muscle under her short acrylics. He obliged, removing his shirt, leaving him bare and exposed to her. Her breath caught just for a moment. His body had always been something to be exalted, but it seemed over the past year he’d progressed to whatever exists beyond the gods level.

Divine.

He was divine.

Roman worked quick to return the favor, yanking her toward him and pulling off the thin sleeved shirt she wore. No bra. Big, heavy breasts freed, she could see his eyes darken. He’d always been obsessed with her body, almost as much as she adulated his.

He hiked her up on his waist, an unnecessary act as he simply moved to lay her down on the bed he was previously sitting in.

Body hovering over hers, she sat on her elbows, watching and lifting up her lower half as he went to remove the matching pants to her top.

Again, that darkened look of desire that deepened as he focused on her thick thighs and the sacred, still clothed space between them.

“Missed this,” he murmured, soft, thick lips trailing kisses down her neck while one hand played with her breast. “Missed you.”

A statement she couldn't think too much about when his mouth shifted to her nipple, sucking greedily while his other hand lowered from playing with her breast to dipping inside her underwear.

“Roman,” she moaned his name, neck craned back, one hand cradling the back of his head as his tongue circled around her chocolate areola and his fingers began collecting the wetness already forming between her thighs.

He was too good at this.

Way too good.

Eyes barely open, focused and unfocused on the ceiling above her, dissatisfaction filled when he released her with a pop, voice haughty and something else. “You missed me?”

Need. A sense of need unlike the carnal one blooming through the both of them.

She said nothing, shifting and moaning as he teased a finger in her tight hole. An unacceptable non-answer.

He snaked his way down her body, Alamea partially wishing she’d removed his pants instead as she caught a brief glance of that unmistakable dent against his dark sweats.

She watched as he easily slid her panties down her legs, bringing them to his face, eyes shutting as he sniffed and inhaled deeply, like trying to comment her scent to memory.

It made her even wetter.

She watched his head lower and lower, the tip of that pink tongue peeking out and grazing just enough for her to feel but not feel. Groaning, she reached to push his head down and help him reach his target, but he resisted, smirking up at her.

Damn you.

“You missed me?”

Her eyes widened. This bastard.

“Roman, please,” she groaned, again, working to help him reach his destination, and again, he decided to play more games.

Her head dropped back when he hummed and blew on her clit, fingering the wetness on her inner thigh. “That wasn’t an answer, baby girl.”

Damn him.

He always knew just what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. It always did her something different when he used nicknames like that. Even calling her Ally. But, it was when he placed a long, languid kiss up her pussy that he finally evoked the response he was clearly looking for.

“Fuck,” she cursed, ready and willing to say whatever he wanted to get exactly what she wanted. “Yes, yes, I missed you, okay? I missed you.” A desperate confession born from need and borderline pain.

It pained her to not have him.

Another haughty smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

Like most, if not all, sexual interactions, Roman ate her out until she was seeing stars, moon, skies, Jupiter, Mars, and anything else not of this world. His arrogance was astounding to many, and rightfully so, but for her, someone who’d been on the receiving end of that magical tongue of his, it simply wasn’t enough.

He was too good.

And, he always knew just how and where to get her for when it was that time. Time for him to spread her thighs, and slide every inch of that thick, long dick of his inside of her. And, when he did, for the first time in much too long, they were both moaning together. He kept his grip on her hips, her fingers dug into his back, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

It’d been a while, so there was a bit of discomfort, maybe even pain, but that easily and quickly morphed into that pleasure only he could bring her.

“Missed this so much,” he groaned, deep voice in her ear as he drove into her, filling her to the hilt. “Thought of this—of you—the entire fucking time.”

She moaned, seeing the hiss leave his mouth as her nails raked up and down, laying claim to him. “L–liar.”

She could have sworn the faintest hint of a smile appeared on his face before he shifted his hips and somehow found a way to dig into her even deeper. “Shit,” she cursed. “You’re so deep in me.”

“Course’ I am,” was his cocky ass reply, though again, well warranted. “No one else can fuck you like this, Ally.”

Ally.

God, it’d been too long since she’d been called that. Called that by him. The only person she wanted to hear said name from.

She was having a hard time keeping the noise down, keeping from screaming, the intensity of his thrusting causing the headboard to smack into the wall repeatedly. She was certain they were going to put a hole into it.

“You think I don’t care?” He asked, having switched positions so that one of her thick legs was over his shoulder, her other leg locked around his waist. He was pounding her. “That it didn’t kill me to be away from you that long?”

It certainly didn’t feel like it. Not while he was gone, but in that moment, with him etching and memorializing his place and autonomy over her body with his dick, she could feel it. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, was unprepared to admit that it was care. Not really.

The sex. He could have just missed the sex. Not her.

He, unlike her, seemed to be able to separate the two.

If only she was so lucky.

When he put her on her hands and knees, she’d braced for something else. Rougher. Less….whatever that was. It was his favorite position on especially stressful days. He’d use her body as a ragdoll of sorts, jerking her back and forth, heavy balls slapping against her bountiful ass the same way her Double D’s flopped all about. Erratic and aimless. He’d use it—and her—to decompress from the heaviest of stressors, and she took it all.

She took everything he gave her, because it was mutually satisfying. He fucked her until she couldn’t feel anything else, couldn’t take anything else, all the while he got his own sort of fill and salacious unloading.

It just worked.

But, this was different, there was something almost…..sensual. He fucked her hard and deep, but he also kept that big body leaned over hers, continuing to pour into her all of the right—or wrong—words.

“Mmmm. Look how good this pussy molds to my dick. Shit made for me and me only.”

“You making a fucking’ mess all over these nice as sheets. Your Tribal Chief loves how wet this pussy gets for him.”

“Fucking perfect, Ally. I can never get enough of you.”

“That’s it, baby. Take this dick.”

“Trying to act like you didn’t miss me but milking the shit out of my cock. You a terrible liar, baby girl.”

They fucked throughout the night. Various locations. Several positions. Respites never lasting longer than twenty minutes, though none of it really shocked her. Alamea learned a long time ago if she was with Roman, alone, a bed or any other type of flat surface in the vicinity, she’d always end up with her legs in the air.

That wasn’t the problem.

Afterwards was the problem.

He didn’t leave. Not after the shared shower where he ended up on his knees eating her pussy like it was his midnight snack, a necessity in order for him to slumber. Not even after they—eventually—made it out of the shower, where she’d expected him to grab his clothes and redress, preparing to leave.

No, he instead made his way over to the bed, stark naked, climbing in and clearly waiting for her.

Or, something, at least.

She climbed in shortly after him, not needing to position herself. He did that for them, pulling her atop his body. Silence fell among them. Welcomed but not helpful.

They needed to talk.

“I care, Ally,” he spoke into the dark, voice low and what some might consider vulnerable. “Too much.”

She said nothing, unable to ignore the unspoken “I’ve always cared” that lingered in the room.

—-----------

The appearing and disappearing act continued. A bit of a detriment, in Alamea’s eyes, given all that happened since Roman’s grand return. New title as the OTC aside, it’d been nothing but back and forth between him and the New Bloodline, because, of course, his pride and hubris remained unchanged. He believed himself able to handle them all on his own.

She knew he couldn’t, and deep down, she knew he knew that, too. But, for as long as she’d known him, Roman’s pride was one of his biggest downfalls. He’d continue to end up in the situation he was in until he realized that he needed help.

And, to her credit, she tried to reason with him. Using their pillowtalk for those occasions where he showed up and they fell back into their old routine to talk some sense into him. But, it was always the same thing.

“I’ve got this, Ally.”

He didn’t. He didn’t have it. And, she knew as much when he agreed to team with Rhodes at Bad Blood.

Knew that if there was an opportunity, that was it, so she did what she had to do.

Reached out to Jimmy. She’d spoken with him every so often ever since his little brother and his new Bloodline put Big Jim out of commission for six long months. Stressed with him how Roman needed him.

Roman needed help.

And like the loyal family member he was, he showed up.

Right when Roman needed him the most.

She’d been on the sidelines of that match, saw the shock and appreciation, subtle vulnerability in Roman’s expression as he stared up at Jimmy in that ring. Saw his lips moving, asking, “you called the play?”

The way Jimmy nodded, pointing to her, Roman’s eyes setting on hers, locking.

“For you,” she mouthed.

Because, she had. She did it for him.

She did a lot for a man who, really, didn’t do much for her in return.

Not….not what she really wanted, at least.

But, Jimmy’s return kickstarted something. Restarted what was starting to feel like the good ole' days. Jey was recruited, though he’d made it clear it was less about helping Roman and more about getting his receipt on Solo and his crew following them costing him his title. Sami returned simply to help Jey. No other reason.

A disastrous show at Crown Jewel, however, revealed that while they were together, they weren’t united, and that was a problem.

A big problem.

One of many problems, as Roman still refused to humble himself, even as the group went around trying to recruit a fifth and final member for War Games. The match that was supposed to determine once and for all who the real Bloodline was.

Except, they couldn’t find a fifth member.

Until they did.

And, Roman hated it. Hated him. CM Punk. Though, she couldn’t blame him. That history ran deep, and so did the hurt.

In getting to know Roman better, learning him, she’d realized that underneath that harsh, hardened exterior was an unhealed man.

It sometimes made her wonder if…if that was why he never gave any indication of wanting more from them. Wanting more of her beyond just what she could provide him sexually.

If something held him back.

If someone.

Regardless, it didn’t matter anyway. They had more important issues, because even though they came out with the dub at War Games, Solo was still refusing to relinquish his “claim” to the title of Tribal Chief.

This meant another match was needed.

Just the two of them.

Roman vs Solo in Tribal Combat.

Like most things, Roman didn’t outwardly admit it, but she could see it. See that he hated it came to this, hated that despite everything that happened, he still loved his cousin.

But, Roman knew what had to be done. And, he did. He came out on top, hailed as the Undisputed Tribal Chief. It seemed like things were starting to gradually fall into place.

Seemed that way, at least.

—-------

Alamea wouldn’t say that it went downhill after Tribal Combat on Netflix, but one could argue that, in some ways, it went downhill after Tribal Combat on Netflix.

Roman was so determined and focused on winning back his title, on entering and winning the Royal Rumble to secure a chance to do just that, that he’d lost focus on something else.

Something important.

Something that was currently biting him in the ass.

The favor.

Punk’s favor owed to him by Paul Heyman. She had a feeling, a big feeling, actually, that somehow, someway, that favor would end up screwing over Roman. And, sadly, she was right.

He was being screwed over.

Back to back.

Punk eliminating him at the Rumble.

Seth injuring him at the Rumble, thus ruling him out for Elimination Chamber, his last opportunity to challenge Cody for the title.

The constant back and forth between him, Seth, and Punk all culminating to the grand reveal of the big favor. That Punk wanted Paul with him, in his corner, at their match at Mania.

And right then and there, Alamea knew where things were headed. What was happening.

Betrayal.

Roman was being betrayed.

Again.

And this….this, he couldn’t ignore.

Couldn’t not talk about. She couldn’t see how deeply it was impacting him without at least trying again to get him to open up.

Alamea woke up in the middle of the night, alone, but not alone. Reaching for his shirt, she slid it over her body, walking out to the balcony of her hotel room. That’s where he was, sitting and looking out over the city, alive and surprisingly bustling considering it was the middle of the night.

Cali things, apparently.

Pushing back some of her hair, she sat down next to him, unsurprised at how he kept his gaze on the city, not even bothering to look at her.

She didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

Not at first.

“It’s funny how much a year can change,” he spoke, deep voice low and laden with something indecipherable. “This time last year, I was untouchable.”

She remained silent. There was nothing to say to that, because he was right. He was literally on top.

Alamea watched his face distort into something bitter and resentful. “I should’ve tightened my grip on this company’s neck.” A sudden relaxation of his hard features as he chuckled bitterly. “It was the Wise Man that taught me diplomacy.” His voice suddenly mocking as he recited something she’d also heard Paul repeat almost a dozen times. “You gotta think politically.”

She licked her lips, moving closer to him. He reached a hand to her thigh. “I tried to help everyone.” A dip in his tone. Sadness. “Most of them don’t understand what a helping hand really looks like. What that really feels like.”

She frowned. “Roman…”

“What do I get for it?” A rhetorical question, his head shaking, hand squeezing her thigh just enough. “Netflix…TKO….Billion dollar deals.” Truths that could not be denied. There was 100% no question that the company had been as successful as it’d been the past few years because of the man next to her. “And somehow, I’m out on my ass.”

“Roman.” She placed her hand on top of his, taking and squeezing it. “You’ll get past this.”

Her words, however, didn’t seem to penetrate. “I lift everybody up and somehow….no one’s got enough respect….to just be true to their Tribal Chief.” He swallowed, jaw clenched. “To be true to me.”

So what does that make me?

An almost bitter question she forced herself to keep safe within the confines of her mind. She’d never been one to kick a man when he was down.

A quiet fell over them followed with an almost whispered, “lessons learned.” She ran her thumb over his knuckles as he turned to look at her for the first time. “We don’t lose.” She pressed her lips together. “We learn.” Unable to help herself, she reached to cup his face, his salt and pepper beard bristling against her palm. “Don’t trust anyone.” Words that didn’t seem to meet his eyes. Not as he looked at her.

“You can trust me, Roman,” she whispered. “You have to know that.” As much as she wished that gentle reminder would prompt a different expression, one of acceptance and appreciation, it didn’t. He still looked torn. Conflicted. The weight of it all fully visible for her to see. “I’m here. Right now. With you. Does….does that not mean anything?”

Do I not mean anything?

A question she’d wondered since their meeting three years prior.

A question, one day, she knew, she’d have to ask. But, not that night.

Again, it wasn’t about her, and she wasn’t prepared to try to make it about her.

Even if….even if there was a conversation they needed to have about her, about them. She couldn’t. Not tonight, at least. Soon. Most likely after WrestleMania, where he was likely to take another break.

“You sticking around?” His voice broke her from her thoughts. Even. An admirable attempt to remain indifferent and unbothered, but she knew better. Could see past it. Could see the hesitation and uncertainty swimming in his eyes.

Her answer was interesting to her, because at one point, it would be different. Another response than the one she would give him. An answer that was a bit of a necessity.

If for some reason, she didn’t want to stick around, that option seemed like no longer an option.

She didn’t have the choice to not stick around anymore.

“Yeah,” she answered, lowering her hand and scooting closer to him. Roman moved his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. She snuggled into him, hand on his chest. “I’ll stick around..."

—----------

She needs to talk to him.

Not a text.

Not a phone call.

No waiting around for him to find her after the fact, when he feels like being bothered with her.

She needs to talk to him, in person, and now.

It’s why, despite the massive weight of nerves sitting on her chest and rumbling in her stomach—unless that’s another symptom—she finds out where his locker room will be. Because of course, title or no title, the Tribal Chief always has his own space at every show.

Never to share with others except his Bloodline.

Whatever that means and looks like these days.

Determined or not, it doesn't stop the fact that there are a million and one things she’d rather be doing right now. Literally anything else. Anything. But, almost two weeks of sitting on this is already too long. Every day that passes without her saying anything just delays the inevitable.

She has to tell him at some point, and him making an unadvertised appearance at the show tonight is the perfect opportunity to do so.

Standing outside the locker room, Alamea forces herself to push back the urge to run away and hide. In every and all the ways. Makes herself knock three times, waiting, foot tapping, arms crossed outside the door.

It doesn’t take long for the door to open, and while she’s not sure who she expected to see, it certainly isn’t him.

Paul looks nervous, but that’s to be expected. He should be.

Roman is gonna fuck him up.

He clears his throat, stepping outside, standing in the doorway. Almost intentionally. “Ms. Dixon, what a sur—”

“Cut the crap, Paul.” A terse interruption, somewhat unlike her character, but between that and the fact that this bastard clearly made his choice regarding whose team he’s on, she really doesn’t have much of anything to say to him. “Do you know when he’s set to get here?”

Normally, it would be posed as a “when” versus a “do you,” but again, Roman’s long-term Wise Man has found himself in that space below the doghouse these days, so what he knows has, she’d bet, become severely limited.

He stutters with his response. “Well, you know as well as I do, the Tribal Chief comes and goes as he ple—”

“That’s not what I asked you.” She closes her eyes, shaking her head. This is already hard enough, and the fact that she’s now, of all times, getting a sudden wave of that damn nausea is just icing on the fucking cake. “Never mind, I’ll just wait for him.”

Because he’s bound to show up sooner or later, and she’d rather the sooner so they can get this over with now, even if something tells her this discussion is better served for after the show.

After WrestleMania, like she was initially thinking. But, there's something....something that won't let her wait any longer.

He...he deserves to know.

But, it’s when she goes to walk past Paul, into the room, he moves, shifts his big body, blocking her.

She frowns.

What the hell?

An insincere smile followed by a bullshit excuse or reason. However he sees it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her frown deepens. What? “I always used to hang out in the Bloodline locker room.”

A fact. When not working and helping the few superstars she was allowed to work with, Alamea would oftentimes spend the majority of her time in the locker room, laughing and bantering with the twins. Sometimes, it was just her and Roman. He’d kick everyone else out so he could focus before a match.

Never her though.

And, Paul knows this, so she’s even more confused by his reluctance.

“I understand that.” More insincerity, except something else now. He’s nervous. Even more than he was when he first opened the door. “But, I just think tonight you’d be better served somewhere—”

“Who is that?”

Another voice.

Not hers.

Definitely not Paul’s and most definitely female.

Familiar, too.

Alamea’s frown deepens once more, as she watches how Paul’s eyes go wide, his body angling towards inside the room.

“Oh, nothing, just—”

“Who’s in there?” She asks. Nothing else. Voice still. Dangerously still.

A now frantic almost gaze switched back onto her. “Uhh—

“I said who is that, Paul?”

Again, the female voice from inside the room. More attitude. A lot more attitude.

Something comes over Alamea as she subconsciously starts putting the pieces together. Something that makes her shove past the obese men, uncaring of how he stumbles and almost falls to the ground. She’s too busy putting a face to a voice, an act that gives her the most unexpected answer.

It’s not the fact that Jaida Parker in Roman’s locker room that bothers her.

Nor is it even the fact that the NXT star that she’d heard had been out on injury the past few months is looking her up and down with a sort of contempt.

No, it’s the fact that Jaida Parker is standing before her, mean mugging her, with one hand on her hip and the other on her slightly swollen belly.

Her pregnant belly.

And, it’d be maybe nothing to think about, but not for the fact that one look at a now standing Paul, the immense, sheer panic and terror on his face, that gives it away. That puts all the pieces together for one damning ass puzzle.

Jaida’s scowl shifts into an almost knowing smirk as she rubs her stomach. Salt on an open, gushing wound. “Oh, you that lil seamstress girl that used to be with the Bloodline, huh?” She scoffs. “I didn’t even know you was still around.”

Not anymore.

Alamea says nothing. She has nothing to say, or maybe she has a lot to say but none of it nice nor appropriate, and really, her gripe is not with the haughty woman before her. Or, even the complicit accomplice.

It’s with him, but they’re words that will never be spoken, because she’s done.

Done with it all. Done with this job. Done with WWE. Done with him.

Alamea turns on her heel, marching out past Paul, out of Roman’s locker room, and though he doesn’t know it yet, out of his life.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black!oc #arisnotebook

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yoonieper · 6 months ago

Text

For the Birds— Part 6 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri)

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff!, this chapter is pretty much pWITHp (can be read alone, however you will be a tiny bit confused)~

♡ Rated: I for Indulge

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: smoking, alcohol, vague mentions of su*cidal thoughts, discussions about depression, vague allusions to substance abuse (alcohol), a few emotional breakdowns, a drop of subby Jk (truly a drop), handjob, slight dom Jk makes an appearance, oral (m + f), a hand goes over a mouth (;D), a hint of voyeurism, protected and unprotected sex

♡ Word Count: 19.7k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: goosebumps by Travis Scott— see masterlist for playlist!

♡ Beta: Thank you so much to @mellowladyanchor @iutint @pearinwords for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! Betas get early access to chapters, so if you're free to help out and can't wait for next chapter, consider joining the team!!!

♡ Author’s Note: Office Sexcapades Part 2! First series shift coming next chapter~ Just a fair warning, this series is about to take a dip, specifically regarding mental health— once again a reminder that if that is a sensitive subject for you please be cautious when reading the following chapters! And sorry to everyone once again for the extreme delay trying to get this out! Life happens :')

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Jungkook’s days had a tendency to go badly the very minute he opened his eyes. It was either Yuri, work, himself, or the most miniscule obstacle that even Jungkook could have never predicted. At this point, it was a curse he deserved considering everything about his shameful existence. Simply waking up was all it took for the world to start throwing shit at him for its sick pleasure just to see if he’d make it through the day. It was exhausting and today proved to be no exception to the torture.

Jungkook woke up, made himself a little coffee, went to the gym, came back to shower, got dressed, then headed to work. Dae-Jung dropped him off in the garage, which had been something his dad always told him was the quickest way to go instead of through the main lobby. He’d skipped too many workouts, so in turn he asked his driver to let him out towards the back for the opportunity to get in his much needed extra steps. He bid farewell to Dae-Jung and then he steadily weaved his way through the sea of cars, mindlessly heading toward the door thinking about what he needed to do today, when bam— you were standing right in front of him getting out of the passenger seat of some random vehicle.

It only took a second for his confusion and amusement at the situation to turn into something even he didn’t understand. With his luck with the universe, he should have known it wasn’t just going to be a funny coincidence you two could laugh about later.

Jungkook watched, unbeknownst to you both, as you got out of the car first before Kim Taehyung emerged from the driver's seat. You were smiling, so was he, and Jungkook noticed as you started making your way inside a certain look in both of your eyes, an uneasy comfortability, that made him remember the fact that you two had dated before.

The minute the door closed behind the both of you, Jungkook felt his blood boil to a temperature he was sure rivaled the sun. His relatively moderate mood at the time transformed into something monstrous and hideous. He had practically stormed in soon after you made it inside. He had no idea why he was so upset. Nothing had happened— nothing had happened, so why the fuck were you with Taehyung?

Jungkook was never the best at hiding his emotions, so the minute Jimin walked in his office later that day, it was apparent by the pout on his face that he had an attitude.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jimin tried to be lighthearted, but considering the situation Jungkook was in, it was hard to know how serious the issue might be. What if this was about Yuri?

Jungkook looked up at him and then went back to staring off into space. “Hyung, is it normal for a guy to drive a girl to work?” It was the first thing he said to him, and it was certainly not what Jimin had expected to come out of his mouth. He stopped in his tracks, feeling uneasy about the question.

“Ummm… what’s their relationship?” Jimin asked, rolling with it. He came in here with a work question originally, but it seemed it could wait for the moment.

“They say they’re friends.” Jungkook mumbled shamefully. He couldn’t even look his hyung in the eye confidently. It sounded nonsensical even to his own ears.

Jimin almost wanted to laugh, but then he grew more worried wondering where this question was coming from.

“Why are you asking? Don’t tell me, Yuri—” Jimin’s mind was always quick to go there. It had every reason to.

“No— no, I just watched this movie and saw people debating about it.” Jungkook quickly came up with the lame excuse on the spot. He didn’t know what to feel— better that it wasn’t about Yuri, or worse because it wasn’t about Yuri. He felt pathetic.

“Oh… well, in that case, probably not. Someone definitely has feelings, maybe one or both of them,” Jimin giggled at that. He had a lot more experience in the romantic department, so Jungkook really took his advice to heart. It was a little ironic considering he was the man who had been married for nearly four years.

Jungkook tried his best to stay calm. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but you had literally told him with your own mouth that you and Taehyung had dated before. He’d seen too many movies and dramas depicting exes rekindling their relationships after previously complicated circumstances in their lives had prevented them from being together at the time. Maybe you two have matured and are finally ready to embrace each other again in the way you couldn’t beforehand. Just because you both did date in the past doesn’t mean things needed to end between you two. But that very thought made a weird wave of emotion wash over him— sadness, anger? He wasn’t quite sure, and he was even more unsure why he was having a reaction in the first place. You might be embroiled with him in an affair, but your life was your business, not his, and he had no right to care. Right? Right…?

He kept trying to reassure himself, but the minute he came out of a meeting and saw the two of you together smiling and laughing as you always did, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head for some reason.

He just didn’t like Taehyung— Taehyung just… Why was he always there?! He was a problem, and Jungkook was confused why you didn’t see it. His own conflicted feelings pissed him off even more and just seeing you— you— why were you doing this to him?

When the meeting ended, he got out of there as fast as he could. The minute he made it back to his office, Jungkook sent you a text asking to meet him in the storage room, but not before grabbing what he needed out of his desk first.

It hadn’t been too long after Jungkook had arrived when you knocked twice and he opened the door. You had been in relatively good spirits before you walked in, that was until you saw the slightly dazed, but pouty look on Jungkook’s face when he guided you inside.

“You ok?” you asked hesitantly when he closed the door behind you. You honestly weren’t in the mood to fight with him today.

Jungkook didn’t say anything, but slowly nodded his head.

He was fine? Yep, you didn’t believe that for one second, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t either.

“Well, in that case, I wanted to say I was actually a little glad you called me in here. All these meetings, graphs, spreadsheets, Excel— I’m honestly done with it all. I’m frazzled. It was so bad yesterday that I overslept and Taehyung had to pick me up this morning or else I would have been late,” you sighed, rubbing your temples to quell the stress.

You unintentionally had given Jungkook a rationale for what he saw this morning, but it hadn’t really solved the problem. Because why did you need to ask Taehyung when the route he takes to work isn’t too far from your apartment? You could have easily asked him to take you. For some reason, Jungkook’s brain didn’t take into account that you didn’t know that and instead focused on the fact that Taehyung had been your knight in shining armor, saving you from dealing with public transportation when you were already late. The thought just didn’t sit right with him for some reason.

“Anyway, I’ve been stressed, and I know this arrangement is mainly about you, but I was hoping you might be able to help me take the edge off,” you sighed, feeling a little embarrassed asking.

Jungkook had no idea what that meant and was too distracted by the fact that you wanted him for something to even try to figure it out. He tried his best to keep his cool. You wanted him!

When Jungkook didn’t say anything back and continued to have this dopey look on his face, you wondered if he understood what you said.

“Jungkook?” you questioned.

“Hmm—” it managed to snap him out of it a little bit.

“You do know what I meant, right?” you finally asked when he still hadn’t done anything.

“Oh— ummmm…” He was a bit clueless it seemed. You were far too prideful to ask him outright, so instead you took initiative and made your way over to the table.

You didn’t turn around as you started undoing your pants— it was extra cold today, so you went with pants instead of the skirts you’d usually wear. In hindsight, if you had known he was going to call you in here today, you probably wouldn’t have worn them. Your cheeks burned as you pulled them down, set them on the table beside you, and kicked off your heels. You put on your best straight face, not wanting him to know how embarrassed you felt, before hopping up on the table.

Even in the dark, you could see Jungkook’s bewildered gaze, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he was blushing like he always did.

“You get what I mean now?” The lilt in your voice made it obvious that you were teasing him, but you also couldn’t deny that you were a little impatient. You smiled at him as you spread your legs a little, hoping that would entice him enough to beckon him more quickly.

It was hard to see anything in the dark, but the glimmer of light that seeped in from underneath the door outlined your body in a way that had him practically drooling as he stared at you. Sometimes it was hard to believe how pretty you were, even when he could hardly see you.

Jungkook made his way over quickly and once he got close, it dawned on him what exactly you were asking from him.

“So, are you just going to stand there?” you asked softly, your eyes staring up at him innocently, yet the way your leg began to rake up his own made tingles spread through his whole body in a flurry.

Jungkook was quick to close the distance between you two. The longer he kissed you, the more and more it dawned on him that you had asked him to do this for you, not Taehyung— fuck Taehyung. You had gone to him in a time of need and suddenly that thought made the flame grow all-consuming.

He wanted to have you. Jungkook was down on his knees soon after, lightly kissing and sucking along the expanse of your thighs. With the extra skin exposed, so soft, so warm, he didn’t know how to act.

Jungkook treated you well. He always did, when he wasn’t cursing your very existence, and as he drew orgasm after orgasm from you just like you wanted, you felt the stress wash away the longer he was between your legs. He seemed especially focused on you despite his needs being the reason he called you in here, and in between the moments he was a major dick, you had to admit he was actually very sweet. He was so attentive, and in the short time you’d been doing this, you felt like he already knew your body so well.

Moments like this made you wonder how ten months could have passed without his wife doing something, anything with him. You didn’t want to speculate too much— that wasn’t really your business and you didn’t know their relationship enough to make any type of accusations. But unless Jungkook was leaving a big part of the story out, you just couldn’t understand her.

Your mind grew fuzzy at some point, you ended up losing count of how many times he made you cum when you hit your limit— you still had to be able to walk out of here after all. You finally pulled him away, and you could see his face glistening despite the darkness in the room. It was a sinful sight that made a wave of electricity run right through you.

When Jungkook finally lifted himself to his feet once again, you saw the quick way he glanced down before looking into your eyes. Right, of course you couldn’t forget about him.

“Mmmm, just go slow. I have to make it back to my desk somehow.” It was sort of a joke, but you also legitimately feared that if you did anything more, Jungkook might need to help you to your desk, and you were sure people would ask questions.

Jungkook quickly nodded before fishing out the condom he grabbed from his desk earlier. Truth be told, he had to go slow or he probably wouldn’t even last a minute. He had wanted to focus on you, and he relished in the pretty sounds you made as you ran your fingers through his hair. However, it got him so worked up that when you tugged on his strands particularly hard while you came on his tongue again, he nearly finished right along with you. Somehow he had held it off, but at this point, he felt like he was only a trigger hair away from losing it.

Slow and steady was definitely the way to go. The minute Jungkook wrangled the condom on, he was inside you moving at a nice, comfortable, steady pace. His strokes were languid, seemingly trying to pay close attention to the way he moved; deep, gentle, and lazily rhythmic, each glide made your toes curl. He filled you up in all the right places and it was so soft how all his attention was on your gaze. If you didn’t know any better, you would have said it was incredibly romantic. But alas, in reality you were getting fucked at your workplace by your superior who was a married man. Nothing screams romance more than that.

Despite his efforts to try to go at a steady pace, he still wasn’t able to last long with the way you squeezed around him. You were so slick from your previous activities, and your warmth made it frustratingly easy to give in. Suddenly, Jungkook came, nearly knocking the wind out of himself in the process as he worked his way through it.

By the end, you both were just trying to catch your breath. You knew you had to leave soon. You had been gone far too long and you knew someone would start looking for you soon.

Jungkook moved away to throw away the condom while you worked on getting your pants on again. Suddenly, his voice cut through the growing silence. “By the way, my way to work isn’t too far from your apartment. If you ever need a ride in the morning, you can just text and ask.” You didn’t notice the blush that had spread across his cheeks.

You laughed. “And what would people think if they saw us getting out of the same car together? Just to save us the trouble of being bombarded with questions, I’ll only come to you if Taehyung isn’t available— but hopefully that won’t even happen anyway because, crossing my fingers, by New Year’s I’ll have my own car and I won’t have to worry about that anymore,” you tried to smile.

“Right… I almost forgot,” he laughed, nervously fluffing his hair.

“You were the one who helped me, remember…?” You were a little surprised you needed to remind him considering it had only been a few days ago.

“Right… right, I’m sorry,” he was always so quick to apologize.

“There’s no need to apologize,” you mumbled.

It hadn’t been long since that meeting where you had ended up being a tiny bit late due to being stuck in traffic for what felt like forever. Luckily for you, unlike the times you’d gone on your own, the fact that Jungkook hadn’t arrived meant that nothing could start without him there, so by the time you burst through the doors, you really hadn’t missed anything.

On the way back, you had asked Jungkook about all the car stuff that had been bouncing around in your head since you started your research. You first made sure to remind him that unlike him, you weren’t the son of a trillion-won tech company’s CEO and you couldn’t get just anything. Surprisingly, Jungkook gave you some pretty insightful advice about what to look for and possible features you might be able to add within your budget. He even recommended a few brands to research further. It had definitely helped refine your search and now you were close to having something picked out and ready to move on to the next stage.

It was odd that he apparently forgot this had happened, but you didn’t want to get on him too much considering everything that was going on. Everyone was busy moving toward the end of the last quarter, and you could only imagine what other things he was dealing with that would cause the memory to leave his mind so easily.

•────•──────────•────•

“Mom?” You questioned as you answered the call.

“Oh? So my daughter finally decided to pick up the phone.” Her tone was so deadpan you knew you were one of the only people who could’ve picked up on the sarcasm and humor in her voice.

“I’m sorry…” You sighed, but a smile still remained on your face.

“You decide to move to Seoul and ever since then it’s almost impossible to get a hold of you anymore,” she mumbled, and in the background you could hear the faint sound of something hitting up against the metal bowl she would always cook in.

“We just talked last week.” You reminded her.

“Last week…” you heard her scoff. “I should be able to talk to my daughter whenever I please!”

At this point, you couldn’t stop the laughter knowing how dramatic your mom could be at times. “I’m sorry, mom.”

She scoffed again. “Where even are you right now?”

You pulled your jacket a little closer to your body as the cool breeze seeped even further into your skin. “I’m walking to the subway station. You called me as soon as I left the office.”

“At this time of night?!” She exclaimed scoldingly. You couldn’t blame her considering it was almost nine o’clock.

“I’ve been busy these days…” You simply settled not wanting to get into the details. Your mom knew about your work troubles to a certain extent. She knew about your frustrating boss and how that situation arose because you spilled coffee on him on your first day, but you kept the more painful details to yourself. She worries about you enough as it is and the last thing you wanted to tell her was how much you were suffering because of a mistake. You had been so eager to let her know about the improvement in your relationship following your promotion, you hadn’t found the heart to tell her things had gone south again.

Of course she also doesn’t know about the affair either, how you were now sleeping with the Jeon Jungkook you used to rant to her about until the early morning hours. It was still hard to admit to yourself that it was happening, and even though you knew your mom wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it, you couldn’t bear the humiliation you’d inevitably feel if you told her.

“Is that why you never answer my calls anymore?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy…” You sighed.

“You’ve always been busy. All you ever do is work; you’ve been like this since you were young. Most parents have to pester their kids to do their homework, but you’d already have it done before me or your dad made it home. You’d always be sitting at your desk with your head in your books already looking into the next week’s material.” She absentmindedly reminisced. You couldn’t help but laugh, your mom’s words hitting you with a wave of nostalgia you weren’t prepared for. You could never forget your nights working at your little green desk in the corner of your room. It sat right beside your window that provided a comforting view of the Busan cityscape, and if you squinted hard enough, you could even see the water despite how far inland your house resided.

It was typically just you in the house for a few hours after you’d get home from school, both of your parents still out and busy hard at work. As soon as you made it home you were dropping your things off, taking a seat at your desk, and getting straight into work. Even while you were younger you didn’t want your grades to be another worry your parents would have to constantly think about, so you always felt the need to take initiative and work hard. It always made you so happy to see your parent’s shocked faces when they would get back from their second or third jobs and you would tell them you had finished all your homework and you were getting a head start on looking into what your teacher said you’d be covering in the following week. You lived for their pleasantly surprised faces, and from an early age, you made it your mission for them to continue to be proud of you.

“I have to be busy so I can earn a lot of money.” You reminded her.

“It’s always money with you… you’re just like your dad. Will you ever forget work and visit your family again?”

“You know I’ll be going back a month from now. Plus, how else am I supposed to get you guys really nice Christmas presents?”

“But that’s too far away. Who cares about Christmas presents when I haven’t seen my daughter since you came home for my birthday, and that was three months ago at this point.”

“I know…” The guilt creeping in made your cheeks burn. You all were really close and even though it's been years since you’ve moved away from your little house in Busan, you used to always try and make time to visit home whenever you could, no matter how busy you were sometimes…

“Your dad’s been sad you’re not visiting this year for his birthday. We’ve been having all his favorite dishes this week just to try and cheer him up.” You giggled at your mom’s words. Your dad could be even more dramatic than your mom sometimes, especially when it came to you.

“Is that what you’re working on right now?”

“Mhmmm. We’re having agujjim (spicy braised monkfish) today,” she said absentmindedly, likely focused on the next step in her internal recipe book. Just the mention of it had your mouth watering, and for a split second you debated if you could somehow take the train back home and make it back in time for work in the morning.

“Tell him I’ll be sure to call him on Friday to try and make up for it.”

“You should call me back when you make it home. I’m sure your dad would like to hear that from you himself.” Your mom mentioned.

You were immediately about to object, but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized there was no reason why you couldn’t besides being exhausted from your work day. Plus, you really had been busy lately so your phone calls home were few and far between.

“I’ll try and see if I can, but no promises.”

“I talked to your dad right before I called you, and he said he will be here in about thirty minutes. I’m expecting your call sometime after that.” Your mom was serious once again, but you knew there would be no hard feelings if you didn’t end up calling.

Your parents know you best in how much you consume yourself with work (though in more recent years that hasn’t been on your own volition), so situations like this weren't exactly new. They were always your biggest cheerleaders in your life, and you could never forget how proud they were of you when you told them you got your job Golden Tech, and they nearly fainted when you mentioned your promotion a few months ago.

“Tell dad I love him if you don’t hear from me in the next hour.”

“Mmmm, and what are your plans after work tomorrow?”

You thought about it. “I’m actually leaving a little early to get my nails done after work.”

“I see. I’m still expecting your call later, but if not, call us afterward tomorrow and make sure I get a picture of your nails.” Your mom added. She always loved to see them whenever you’d mention you got them done.

“Will do.”

“Alright then. Be careful on your way home. It’s late, so if you’re not calling, be sure to text me when you make it back home.”

You grinned. “Alright, mom. I’ll talk to you later. Any longer and I might miss the next train.”

“You better,” her seriousness was back, making your smile grow wider.

“I will, don’t worry… Bye mom~”

“Bye.”

And with that you clicked off and picked up your pace. You were only a block away, but you still found yourself hurrying. The last thing you wanted to do was have to wait for the next train, it was already late.

It just had your mind traveling back to Jeon Jungkook and how it was all his fault that you were at work for so long. He just made your blood boil, yet at the same time…

You shook your head hurriedly. No Jungkook thoughts after work.

It was easy to say that, but as you hurried your way for some reason his face continued to follow you even as you sped down the stairs of the subway station. He pissed you off, he really did. Why was he always in your head?

•────•──────────•────•

You were on your way back to your desk when you spotted Jungkook by the meeting room. At first you were going to speed right past, coming to the quick conclusion that he was preparing for the upcoming meeting later on, but something just seemed… off. He was pacing in front of the doorway and the look in his eyes, even from far away, made your passing gaze linger on him with concern.

Just as you were about to walk by the hallway, your feet stopped you entirely. The longer you looked the more worried you became. Even still, the panic didn’t set in until you got a little closer.

“Director Jeon?” you called out hesitantly.

The minute Jungkook turned around, you could truly process the fear in his eyes. You had never seen him look so distressed, only rivaling that first night you shared in his office. His eyes were looking at you, but it was like he was staring right through your very being. What was going on?

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” you said, far more seriously, grabbing him so he’d look at you. Your stomach dropped when you felt him shaking in your grasp.

“Uhhh— this— um— this presentation, I—” Jungkook stumbled over his words and seeing how disheveled he was, you knew you had to get him out of there. You looked around worriedly at all the people passing by.

You quickly told him to meet you in the storage room and said you’d be in a few minutes after. Jungkook didn’t fight you on it, instead he just steadily headed over in that direction while you walked in the other. You both knew you couldn’t be seen with each other, so the extra time allowed you to quickly show your face to your team and drop something off in your office before heading out to join Jungkook.

You knocked twice, waited a second, then knocked twice again— something you’d easily gotten into the habit of doing by now. When Jungkook opened the door, he still seemed just as distraught as he had when you parted ways. You hastily made your way inside to figure out what was going on.

Before you could really even get in the room, you saw Jungkook fall back against the door and sink to the floor. His breathing was shallow, so shallow you were worried he was moments away from passing out. His fingers quickly threaded into his hair and even in the dark, you could see how tight his grip was. You didn’t say anything at first, instead moving to take a seat right next to him.

“Deep breaths,” you said as you looked at him worriedly.

Jungkook quickly reached for your hand and you let him squeeze it tightly. He wasn’t looking at you and you were worried he didn’t hear your words before, so you called his name again and started taking slow, deep breaths to get him to follow along.

Jungkook’s eyes darted towards yours, and after a little while, he attempted to join you. It was like he had run a marathon with how out of breath he seemed.

“I can’t— Y/n— I can’t,” he cried, and you held onto him tightly as you tried to calm him down a little. You rubbed reassuring circles on his hand as he tried to slow his breathing down. It took some time, but eventually you both got in sync. You didn’t stop, scared that the minute you did, Jungkook would go back to square one.

It was Jungkook who finally halted doing the breathing exercises and pulled away before bringing his knees close and resting his head in his arms. You placed your hand on his back, feeling him shaking slightly still.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Your voice was calm as you looked over at him. “We have a little bit of time before the meeting starts. We could just sit in silence if that’s what you prefer.”

Jungkook leaned his head back.

“I used to not be like this— I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve given countless presentations in the past and I was fine. But these days, I don’t know— when I see their eyes it feels like they can see through everything and—” Jungkook was teary as he spoke, and things just grew worse.

“How am I ever going to run this company if I can’t even stand in front of people to give this stupid presentation?!” It was a thought he had never told anyone, his growing fear about becoming the CEO one day. He didn’t want to say anything because he was embarrassed. He wanted people to have high expectations of him, but he wasn’t even meeting his own these days.

This wasn’t even a big presentation. It was just a review of what the teams had already accomplished and what everyone needed to get done before the holidays. It wasn’t major, but there were going to be a lot of people there, representatives from all the departments and a few higher-up executives to check in and see how things were going. It should be simple, he’d done this presentation a countless number of times, but this year for some reason, just the thought of everyone sitting there and staring at him, only him—

It felt like that nightmare all over again; the executives judgingly peering at him, degrading him as he shamelessly took you on the table.

It had already been bad the last time he just had to go up there and say a few things when you did your presentation together. In that case, however, Jungkook only needed to chime in occasionally and give a little extra insight while you did almost everything. This time you weren’t going to be up there for him to hide behind. He had to stand there all alone, everyone’s eyes would be on him and—

The feeling of your hand moving on top of his tore him away from his rushing thoughts. Jungkook looked down at them, then back up to meet your smiling eyes.

Instead of saying anything, he threaded his fingers between yours.

“Their— their eyes are so scary. I know they’ll see everything,” his tears finally spilled over. You noticed the little light seeping in and reflecting off the wetness that began to stain his cheeks.

He was shaking really, really badly. It reminded you of the fateful day your affair had started. His sad, watery eyes were peering into your own, practically pleading for help. It contrasted with the Jungkook you had begun to grow familiar with, the one who would get mad at you for no reason other than the fact that you existed. But this felt like the real Jungkook. Behind all the anger was someone so broken, it was almost hard to watch.

You had seen his presentations in the past. Most of the time it was just executives who would be present, so for a while it was only on rare occasions had you’d seen Jungkook actually having to lead meetings. You had hated Jungkook at the time, but it was one of the few moments your hatred would dim and be replaced by a sliver of admiration. He was good. He would always be cool, calm, and concise when he talked, elaborating his points well whenever needed, and answering questions with just as much care and attention. It made his panic today seem even crazier when you thought back on what he was like just a year ago. It made you want to ask what had happened. You tried not to ask him too many questions, allowing him to tell you things only if he wanted to. After a little bit of thinking, you ultimately decided against it, figuring that if he wanted to tell you, he would.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know I’ll get up there and will be shaking so much, everyone will hear it in my voice, just like last time— I’m so fucking pathetic.” And his fear just got worse. He couldn’t hide. They’d see him, they’d see everything— how incapable he was. He was a fucking mess and all his coworkers would see it.

“Don’t say you’re pathetic,” you finally interjected, hating how much he said that sometimes.

“I am, I can’t—!”

“Shhhh!” you squeezed his hand tightly. “Don’t say you can’t, because you can. I’ve seen you up there before.”

Jungkook sadly laughed at that. “That was before, but now I can’t—”

“No— I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to say these bad things about yourself. Nothing good will come from doing that. You can do this, okay?” You were stern, yet reassuring all at the same time.

Jungkook just stared at you wide-eyed for a second before he leaned his head back against the door. “It just looks so easy for you. You’re always so amazing when you’re up there. How do you do it?” he sighed, staring off into the darkness of the storage room.

It was now your turn to get a little flustered, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside to get back to the point. “Well, it just took a lot of practice. Presentations used to be a daunting task back when I was in school, but I picked up a lot of tips, tricks, and advice over the years that really helped me. I’m not a professional or anything, but I know that anxiety with public speaking can sometimes stem from other problems and stressors you might be dealing with. Considering you said you didn’t used to be like this, I would say that might be your issue.”

Jungkook sat back and thought about it. That would make a lot of sense actually. “You’re probably right. I haven’t felt good in years, but this year in particular… things have gotten considerably worse.” His voice wavered at the end at the mere thought of it.

“We could talk about it if you like?” you mentioned softly.

Jungkook slowly shook his head. “Not enough time, and just…” He shook his head again.

“That’s fine. We could sit here and continue to take deep breaths together. Maybe it’ll help you calm down.” You would sometimes do a little meditation whenever you had a big presentation coming up and you were particularly nervous. Though what Jungkook was going through went beyond just the jitters, it couldn’t hurt to try it out.

Jungkook steadily nodded, closed his eyes, and turned his attention to focus on slowing his breathing.

He really had needed this. From the very minute he woke up this morning, the shaking had already started. He had so badly wanted Yuri to do something to take away the anxiety; even simply being a listening ear to his nervous ranting would have helped.

Yuri had been around at the apartment that morning. Maybe she had no work plans and none of her friends were pulling her to hang out so early in the morning like they usually would on her free days. He wasn’t sure the exact reason, but he was happy she was home.

Jungkook’s hands had been shaking so badly, he nearly spilled his cereal trying to bring the spoon up to his mouth. Yuri had asked what was wrong with him because of how jumpy he was, but the minute he mentioned the presentation, she had simply rolled her eyes at him.

“Isn’t that your job? Why in the world would you be so nervous?” She sounded so disappointed. She had every right to be, and it wasn’t even like she was wrong. It was his job; presentations weren’t new to him. Why was he so nervous?

Jungkook couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything else after that, knowing all too well that if he continued, things might get so bad he wouldn’t even be able to leave his apartment. Instead, he tried his best to steady his increasingly shaky hand while he ate.

Honestly, Jungkook feared what might have happened if you hadn't pulled him into the storage room. He didn’t know why he had been outside of the meeting room. His racing mind had grown more and more anxious as time grew closer to the meeting. Somehow, his feet had carried him to the room where it would all be going down, not even to prepare, but to pace and pace because the shaking just wouldn’t stop and it was getting overwhelming.

Jungkook probably would have broken down right there, causing a horrible scene in front of anyone who passed by, but thankfully you had pulled him out of his daze and helped him plant his feet on the ground again.

“Inhale,” you said softly. Jungkook took a deep breath in, letting his lungs fill with as much air as they could hold.

A few seconds passed before you continued. “And exhale.” It was just as soft as before and Jungkook finally released the breath he had been holding. The air escaped shakily, but it still felt like a weight was being lifted off of his shoulders.

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Along the way, Jungkook started paying more attention to the way you breathed. He tried his best to follow along with your calm, deep breaths in, followed by a long exhale. He was shaking, but gradually he was able to calm himself enough to follow your steady breathing a little more easily.

Breathing should have been his sole focus, but he realized his worried thoughts were also growing calmer as he thought about you beside him. You were too nice, far too nice for someone like him. He didn’t deserve it, he knew that’s what Yuri would say, yet for some reason you were down here with him on the floor trying to help him meditate.

At some point, he just had to open his eyes again to look over at you. Your eyes were closed as you calmly breathed in and out. You looked so relaxed and… wow, you were so pretty. Even in the dark your beauty managed to pierce through the black you both sat in, and your bewitching presence relaxed him even further. His face warmed at the sight and an overwhelming emotion filled his heart and squeezed it so tight he almost couldn’t breathe. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before, one so consuming that for once, Jungkook put overthinking aside and acted on impulse before he could stop himself.

It completely caught you by surprise, the feeling of his hand on your chin. You nearly jumped, but you quickly relaxed when you opened your eyes and saw it was just Jungkook. You glanced down at his hand before staring back up into his eyes. A new look had settled behind his gaze, one you were completely unfamiliar with.

Jungkook let his hand cup your cheek before he moved a little closer so there was hardly any distance in between you two. His gaze wasn’t meeting your own anymore. Instead, he was peering down at your lips.

His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, so soft, as he always was. You hated the way your heart tightened.

“Is this ok?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your body didn’t even give you the chance to think about it before you nodded. It was all Jungkook needed to finally close the gap between you two. This time was different. It reminded you of the very first time he kissed you— it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t out of anger or frustration— it was… it was…

You loved the way his lips moved against yours. He was so gentle, and his soft sighs anytime he’d pull away to breathe were addicting. You loved the way he held you, so tenderly— no, this wasn’t right. What was going on?

You kissed him a little harder, picking up the pace a little to bring things back into more familiar territory. Jungkook didn’t stop you, instead welcoming the way you kissed him more passionately. You normally never took the time to just make out like this, always quick to get to the main event. But Jungkook was a really good kisser. He let you take the lead, allowing your tongue to eagerly explore his mouth. He was always so skilled and receptive.

You grew hot pretty quickly and you could imagine Jungkook was the same way as one hand flew to your waist and the one that rested on your cheek pulled you even closer. It gave you an idea. As much as you didn’t want to, you finally pulled away.

“Jungkook…” you said, your breath labored.

Jungkook hated each second you spent apart and pressed light kisses across your cheek. “Mhmmm…” he practically moaned into your skin.

You had to resist just completely melting in his grasp.

“I can’t help with your nerves directly, but maybe there’s something I can do to better take your mind off things if you’ll let me,” you mentioned in between the kisses he kept planting on your cheek and lips. At this, Jungkook finally pulled away, seemingly interested.

You let the silence pass for a little while.

“Orgasms always helped me de-stress,” you smiled shyly at him, maybe a little too innocently considering what you had just proposed. You saw the way he steadily processed your words in his mind.

“Maybe.” He was beating himself up for somehow finding himself here with you once again, but you always did relax him. “I didn’t bring a condom though. I didn’t—”

You shook your head. “I don’t think we have enough time to go all the way anyway.” You glanced at your watch and once it lit up you saw that there were only twenty minutes before the meeting was about to start.

Jungkook looked up at you, worry painted all over his features again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you reassured, placing your hand against his cheek.

Jungkook seemed dazed as he stared into your eyes, before he quickly nodded his head. You smiled and shakily got up to your feet.

“Stand up,” you lightly commanded, not really wanting to suck him off on the floor. He did as you asked and before anything more could be said, you moved him toward the side of the wall so he wouldn’t bang against the door. With something a little more solid behind him now, you finally took the opportunity to pin him against the wall.

Your height difference wasn’t much when you had your heels on, but even then, he was still a little taller than you. You doubted you looked that intimidating, but you nearly giggled when you saw the look on his face as you stepped closer.

You made quick work of sliding your hand onto his waist and settling the other on his cheek. You smiled before planting light kisses across his warm skin and eventually guided yourself up to his meet ear. You brushed away his hair and being this close it only then dawned on you that Jungkook had not one, but two sets of shiny hoops in his ears that you had never really noticed before.

“I promise to make this quick,” you whispered softly before planting a kiss right on his ear.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moaned as he quickly pulled you back to meet his lips. The position was hot, and you weren’t the only one who thought so. He’d never been pinned like this before and he certainly couldn’t say he hated it. No, if anything—

“F-fuck!” he panted as you moved down to suck on his neck. You were always careful about not leaving any marks. Jungkook was clumsy sometimes, but you knew the right balance of giving pleasure without going too far. It had Jungkook mewling as he embarrassingly started grinding into you slightly. He was subtle, but the friction combined with your mouth was enough to get him hard in no time.

The minute you noticed him chasing his hips into yours was when you figured it was time to move on to the next stage.

You kissed his lips one more time before dropping down to your knees. First, you checked the time again— fifteen more minutes. You really needed to be fast.

His belt and zipper came undone in a flash. Since he was standing this time, you tried to pull his pants down to make it a little easier for you to work, but Jungkook stopped you and mumbled something about it being quicker like this.

Even if you were trying to be conscious of the time, you didn’t think it would take that long to pull his pants up when you were done. But that’s what he wanted and there really wasn’t any time to question him on it. Instead, you finally took him out. You were drooling at how pretty the outline was even in the darkness and how it felt in your hand.

“Y/n…” Jungkook whined as you stared. Right, it was not a good time.

You slowly began pumping his length. You made sure to be extra attentive in your movements, steadily increasing your pace, and focusing on the tip since you knew how sensitive he was.

Your eyes also were trained on his expression. It was hard to see exactly, but you noticed the way he leaned his head back and the tight grip he had on the shelf that sat beside you both. He was trying so hard to be quiet, you could tell by the soft whines that would sometimes manage to slip out of his mouth. He really was so pretty. What you would have given for more time to tease him further.

You finally took him into your mouth, apparently a little unexpectedly by the way he nearly jumped out of skin. You hated to admit it was kinda cute.

Jungkook’s hand quickly moved from the shelf to rest on top of your head. He was careful to not hurt you as his fingers lightly threaded into your hair. He tried his best to keep steady, but his legs shook with each swipe of your tongue. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was overwhelming in the best way possible. Just the view alone of you on your knees for him… god.

Occasionally, you would look up at him and tease the tip between your lips. Sometimes Jungkook would try to watch as you took down as much as you could, but the sight was so good that he would need to quickly look away, flushed, knowing that the end would come all too quickly if he kept watching.

Before long, Jungkook was close and had to put his other hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out. Somehow, he was still able to warn you of his impending release.

This prompted you to speed things up a little, knowing by now that time was probably not on your side. It didn’t take much more work before Jungkook was suddenly spilling into your mouth. His moans were muffled, but you watched in delight as you saw the tension leave all his features and his cum continued to paint your tongue.

You wanted to stay there and let him bask in his post-orgasmic bliss, but you figured he probably needed to leave soon to go set up for the meeting. You stood up and from the new angle you could see how relaxed he was; his eyes were closed while he leaned against the wall, his breath steady unlike when you first walked in. You really didn’t want to ruin this serene moment.

“Hope that helped a little bit, but it’s probably best not to sit here too much longer,” you mentioned after some time had passed.

Jungkook hummed and his eyes fluttered open to look at you before staring off into the distance. “I really don’t want to do this,” he sighed.

“I know it sucks, but once it’s over, it’s over. Do you have any other presentations coming up?” you asked, and Jungkook eventually nodded.

“One more right before the holidays start. It’s mainly to the higher-up executives, giving them a formal look into our plans for next quarter and the next year as well. Not as many people are going to be there as today, but it’s a little more important,” Jungkook groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“We'll take it one day at a time. At least this one will be over shortly, and you can look back and—” but before you could finish, you felt a hand on your wrist and then suddenly you were pulled into something warm.

It took you a second to realize it was a hug. Your cheeks burned and you hated the way your heart skipped a beat at the way Jungkook nuzzled into your shoulder. He was so warm that you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace.

“Thank you… thank you for being here,” he sighed, and then all of a sudden you felt tingly everywhere. “Without you, I’m almost sure I would have had a breakdown right outside the meeting room, so thank you for just being here and… for helping out.” Your relationship was complicated for sure, but you weren’t the type of person to leave someone when they were clearly struggling. You may not exactly like Jungkook, but you didn’t hate him either. Sometimes, in moments like this, all he really needed was a helping hand.

“It was no trouble at all,” you tried to laugh, but it was hard keeping your voice steady when your heart was nearly beating out of your chest.

You stayed just like that for a second, wishing that you didn’t leave so soon.

“I guess I should go now. I still need to get my laptop from my office,” Jungkook sighed, and you quickly pulled away, remembering the time.

“Alright, you can head out first. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you smiled at him, but right then you suddenly remembered something. You reached over to where the light switch was and quickly turned on the lights. You both cried out, then laughed at the sudden brightness in the room, but you tried your best to ignore it and do what you had wanted.

Suddenly, you were very close and your hands were back in his hair as you tried to fix the disheveled strands a little after his fingers had been running through it too many times. Once he realized what you were doing, he relaxed, and Jungkook’s gaze steadily fell to your lips. The pretty color that had stained them earlier was now smeared from your activities and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

His hands came up to rest on your waist, but you paid no mind as you worked. The position made him realize just how much he didn’t want to leave you. You always needed to be quick whenever you met up here, but today you had no time whatsoever to spare. It really sucked.

Jungkook tried his best to ignore how much he wanted to kiss you again.

“Alright. I couldn’t help much, but I was able to get things relatively in the right spot. You look great and I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

It was then that you realized Jungkook’s gaze had drifted down towards your lips. With the lights on, you were able to see things clearly, his pretty lashes and all the cute moles on his face. He really was breathtaking. You were tempted to kiss him again, one last token of good luck before his presentation, but something about that felt… it felt like it wasn’t your place to do that. Instead, you smiled at him before pulling away again.

“How about this… if you have some time later, maybe I’ll give you a reward for finishing your presentation,” you mentioned as you watched Jungkook zip up his pants and redo his belt.

Jungkook smiled at the thought. The presentation was the main thing he had to do today, but he also had a few documents he knew he needed to look through. He would possibly have time a little later to potentially sneak off with you again. Plus, by that time, no one would really even be around to notice he was gone.

“Secretary Yu is leaving early today, it wouldn’t be too hard to sneak off later, but I’ll let you know.” He was certainly planning on it. After the presentation, he knew he would need something to wash away the nerves again.

You nodded at that. “Alright… Make sure to take deep breaths, and if things become too much, just look at me and pretend everyone else isn’t in the room.” You had heard that tip somewhere and figured it would be a good last-minute suggestion.

Jungkook looked up at you again. “Thank you…” he smiled once again, still unable to believe you were even there. Why would anyone care for him like this?

“Again, no trouble at all. I’ll fix myself up, then I’ll be heading to the meeting room.” You could only imagine what your makeup looked like right now.

Jungkook smiled. “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then~” you waved as Jungkook hurried out the door.

…

The presentation didn’t go perfectly. It never could have, considering all the anxiety he was dealing with these days, but he’s sure that without your help, it would have probably been a complete disaster. He hit all the talking points that he wanted to, even if he was a little shaky, but hopefully it hadn’t been too obvious.

You were a big help, and just your presence in the meeting made things a little easier as he tried the trick you suggested and fixated on you a couple of times to maintain his cool.

It went better than expected, and that was enough for him at the moment. As everyone started leaving the meeting room, it was good to feel the relief of it all being over. But now that things were done, all Jungkook could think about as he made his way back to his office was when he could meet up with you again.

•────•──────────•────•

Ever since the day Jungkook had left Yoongi’s office after breaking down in front of him about the affair, they had been texting off and on. It wasn’t much, mostly just Yoongi occasionally asking Jungkook if he was doing alright or if he had yet made an appointment with Dr. Kim yet. He had not.

Earlier today, the doctor randomly texted him to ask if he would like to meet up and have dinner since he apparently didn’t have any late night appointments that day. Jungkook wasn’t normally the type to say yes to something like that, not really enjoying other people’s company these days, but despite not technically being his therapist anymore, Dr. Min was still a professional and he knew he probably needed to talk to someone.

That was how Jungkook found himself leaving work a little earlier than he normally would and cruising down the streets of Seoul with Dae-Jung. A lot of people had already begun putting up decorations for the approaching holidays. Pretty lights twinkled in people’s windows and they came across frequent sightings of late night workers beginning to decorate small Christmas trees.

Yoongi hadn’t texted him an exact address, instead giving him the details of the place across the street from where they were meant to meet. At first, Jungkook was a little confused by it, until they made it onto the road and he saw the pojangmacha (tent bar) at the end of the street. It wasn’t long before he saw Yoongi right outside. Jungkook hopped out of the car into the freezing cold, telling Dae-Jung he’d text him when to pick him up, and made his way over to Yoongi.

They both greeted one another, exchanging slightly awkward hellos before walking in together. It had been quite some time since Jungkook had been to a pojangmacha— maybe since college? It was nice. The cozy warmth from the heaters and the grill easily cut through the chill November air, providing a little oasis for the people coming in. Lucky for them, a table was already available so they were quickly able to get a seat. As soon as they sat down, Jungkook realized he’d forgotten to eat again today and his stomach growled as they both looked over the menu.

The minute his eyes landed on Korean dumplings, he nearly started drooling as memories of them invaded his senses. He could practically taste them on his tongue. Jungkook eagerly pointed to them on the menu and then Yoongi ordered for the both of them, getting Korean dumplings for himself as well along with two sojus to go with their meal.

“I saw this place on my way to work today. They’ve come to this area before and they always have really good food,” Yoongi mentioned with a smile.

“I’m excited to try it. It smells really good here. I forgot to eat all day, so I’m starving!” Jungkook tried to laugh as he looked longingly at the food of the other customers. Hopefully their food would be served quickly…

Yoongi, however, was focused on something else. “Good food wasn’t the only reason I brought you here though. It’s been a little while since we’ve seen each other and I just wanted to check in on how you were doing. Have you managed to speak with Nam— Dr. Kim yet?” Yoongi asked, as a lady came over with their bottles of soju and some shot glasses.

Jungkook steadily shook his head. “I’ve been really busy at work. I was just going to try and schedule an appointment after New Year’s when I’ll be a little more free again.” Like a proper dongsaeng should, Jungkook was already opening Yoongi’s bottle and pouring it for him. Yoongi tried to do the same for Jungkook, but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

“I see… Things are usually hectic during the holidays. I’m still a little worried, considering how you were doing the last time you came to my office, but I understand. How are things going with that by the way?”

Jungkook took his first shot. It was bitter today, of course.

“With what?” Jungkook had to clear his throat as the clear liquid burned going down his throat.

“The affair. Did you ever manage to tell Yuri about it?” Yoongi took his own first shot. He didn’t mean to be so blunt, but there was no use beating around the bush.

Jungkook stared at the doctor for a second before he hurriedly filled his shot glass once again, the clear liquid quickly rising to the top and nearly brimming in the process. He downed his next shot speedily and finished it with ease before finally managing to shake his head no. He still hadn’t told Yuri about what happened that day… and all that happened afterward. Frankly, he didn’t really want to.

Silence passed for a little while as Yoongi continued to stare at Jungkook.

“Are you still seeing the coworker?” Yoongi eventually asked.

At this, Jungkook hastily went for his third shot.

“Woah… no need to rush—” Yoongi mumbled in an attempt to tell him to slow down, but Jungkook shooed him away as he easily downed his third. As soon as he set the glass back on the table, Jungkook’s hands were threaded into his hair again, his grip tighter than ever. Eventually, he nodded.

“Jungkook, look at me.” Yoongi softly commanded. Jungkook put his hands down and Yoongi was able to see that his eyes had grown a little watery. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I tried to push her away, or maybe I didn’t. I probably didn’t try hard enough.” Something about confessing out loud that things were still happening between you two made the reality sink in even more. How horrible was he?

“She was the one who tried to tell me it was a bad idea to continue, but I practically begged her to be with me again.” Just the thought of it was sickening. Pathetic. What would Yuri say if she saw this?

“I tried to focus on Yuri, she’s my wife for fuck’s sake. But she keeps pushing me away, and now… I just feel like I’m digging myself into an even deeper hole than I was in in the first place,” Jungkook's voice wavered. He didn’t know what was worse at this point— betraying Yuri’s trust over and over again, or the fact that he was enjoying his time with you so much.

Yoongi stared at Jungkook for a little while before he went for his second shot. Jungkook tried to pour it for him, but Yoongi shooed him away. He downed the shot easily before rising to his feet.

“Follow me,” Yoongi said as he started putting his coat back on. Jungkook was confused, but quickly rose to his feet and put on his coat as well.

“We’ll be standing just right outside, could you call us in when our food is ready?” Yoongi asked the ajumma who was working hard behind the grill.

“Did you get that?” she called out to the younger woman who was sitting behind her scrolling on her phone. She had been the one who served them their drinks. Jungkook assumed she might be the older woman’s daughter. They had the same face, time being the only differential. The young lady nodded and with that, Yoongi pulled Jungkook out of the tent into the cold and over to a bench that sat in front of a big art sculpture that wasn’t too far from them.

Yoongi sighed, a foggy puff of air slipping past his lips, proving just how cold it was to anyone standing outside in this unfortunate weather. Jungkook was about to ask what was going on when Yoongi started rummaging around in his pockets, pulling out a box in one hand and something shiny in the other. It took him a second to realize it was a box of cigarettes and a bright purple lighter.

Yoongi smiled as he held up the lighter. “My daughter’s name is Bora. I got this color because of her, but funnily enough, I don’t really use it much anymore,” he laughed.

It took Jungkook a second to realize that he had never really considered that the doctor… had a life? He felt guilty for not asking Yoongi about himself, but of course the couples therapist has a whole life and a daughter. Jungkook also imagined he was married as well. Oddly enough, Yoongi had started to take on the role of a big brother in Jungkook’s eyes, but it still shocked him a little. Sometimes he seemed years ahead of him in life experience, but other times he really didn’t feel any different in age. Yoongi didn’t even look that much older than Jungkook was, making it harder to remember there was a bit of an age gap— seven years to be exact.

As Jungkook was lost in thought, he completely missed when Yoongi opened the box, took out a cigarette, put it between his lips, and handed the box over to Jungkook.

“Only if you want to,” Yoongi mentioned, as he tried his best to light it. It took a couple of tries, but eventually the end managed to catch.

Jungkook didn’t really think too much about it as he took one before handing the box back over to Yoongi and exchanging it for the lighter.

He didn’t really smoke, at least not anymore. College Jungkook, however, was a very different Jungkook. It wouldn’t have been an unusual sight to walk into his apartment and see him on the balcony with his feet kicked up and a cigarette between his lips, strumming along on his guitar to his favorite songs as he procrastinated doing homework. He never stopped for any reason in particular, it was just one of those habits that never stuck, and especially once he started his new life as a married man, he never really went back to it.

That didn’t stop him this time, though. Jungkook took the bright purple lighter and easily lit the cigarette. He took a long inhale before steadily blowing out the smoke, all while Yoongi observed him closely. Jungkook wasn’t prepared to hear the man chuckle beside him.

“Guess you weren’t lying then…,” he giggled to himself, taking another puff.

“You thought I was?” Jungkook asked, a little confused why he would think that.

Yoongi just shrugged, not really having an answer.

“Anyway, I brought you out here to talk about how you’re doing. We’re not in my office anymore, so be as unfiltered as you’d like. Tell me anything you’re comfortable with sharing— about Yuri, the affair, yourself…” Yoongi looked over at him.

The proposition made Jungkook’s eyes glisten and he hoped Yoongi would just think it was because of the cold. He quickly took another hit of the cigarette. Silence passed for a while, just the sounds of a few passersby and the wind steadily blowing as it made the night even colder.

“I don’t feel good,” Jungkook laid out plainly, not really having the energy to put up a front for the doctor and pretend things were fine. They weren’t— he needed help, he knew that. “I don’t really feel anything anymore,” Jungkook added a little more quietly.

“Anything?” Yoongi repeated, and Jungkook nodded.

“Every day is a fucking nightmare. It hurts just to get out of bed each day and go to work. It hurts to see Yuri. Our marriage is getting worse every single day and I still don’t feel guilty about what I did to her— what I keep doing to her for some reason. The only time I feel anything anymore is when I’m with Y/n…” His eyes were watering so much now, it was hard to pretend it was still just the cold.

“Is Y/n your coworker?” Yoongi asked, and Jungkook nodded once again. “What does she make you feel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “It just feels good when we’re together. For a moment, I feel something again. For a second, my life isn’t shit and my problems disappear. Maybe that’s why I keep going back to her for more.”

Yoongi wanted to comment on that, but ultimately chose to stay quiet. He didn’t want to label anything prematurely, but as a couples therapist and a married man, what Jungkook described didn’t sound unfamiliar.

“But even when I do, I still treat her like shit, just like I do with Yuri. I can’t do anything right,” Jungkook laughed as he wiped his eyes and took another puff from his cigarette.

“And what makes you say that?” Yoongi inquired further.

“I keep giving her more work when we’re already really busy as it is. We argue pretty much every time we’re alone together. She doesn’t deserve it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Jungkook was crying just thinking about how you were probably still at the office working because of him.

“I just feel so hopeless every day, every fucking day and I just want it to end.” Jungkook sobbed, using his coat sleeve to wipe his eyes.

“Before, I held onto this glimmer of hope that one day I’d get my shit together and finally understand how to make Yuri happy, how to love her, how to at least get her to a place where she’d try and work things out with me.” Just an attempt, that was all he needed. “But now I feel like I fucked things up beyond repair, I’ve fucked everything up so badly— nothing will ever get better and I’m just so tired.”

Yoongi didn’t want to interrupt but this was beyond heartbreaking to listen to and watch as the tears started streaming down his cheeks.

“And I’m so ashamed— Y/n— I think I’m just running off of what she gives me at this point, it’s the only time anything feels like something anymore— I want things to be ok, but I just keep messing everything up— I’m so tired, I feel like giving up at this point.” It was vague, but Yoongi was paying close attention to his wording and his heart sank hearing the words ‘give up.’ He honestly thought the worst.

“It’s just gray no matter where I look and I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this, hyung. I just want it to end.” Jungkook sighed.

It might have been a slip of the tongue, maybe it was the alcohol flowing through his system, but the endearing honorific, one Jungkook didn’t seem to notice in the moment, was easily heard by Yoongi.

At this, Yoongi finally had to say something. “Jungkook, I'm really, really worried about you. I know I’m a couples therapist so this isn’t exactly my specialty, but the way you speak about your depression is concerning. The sentiments you’re describing are treading into dangerous territories that I’m honestly a little worried about leaving you alone.” The label wasn’t really a surprise. Jungkook had figured he’d veered into depression land a long time ago.

“Do you think you can hold out till the New Year’s when you’ll be able to meet Dr. Kim?” Yoongi asked seriously.

Jungkook nodded, wanting to believe he could. He hated to say he wasn’t confident in his affirmation.

“Things were bad before, but it was very recently where I don’t know… like I didn’t feel good for years if I’m being honest, but it I felt like I was on a hill and then all of a sudden I reached a cliff. I’m trying hard to climb out, or at least find the other side, but it just keeps getting lower and lower and now I’m stuck— the end’s nowhere in sight and—” Jungkook could ramble for hours about this. It truly felt there would be no end to this madness. He was tired, tired of going on and on and on with the same bullshit…

He was making people suffer, his wife, his employees, his friends, you, the list goes on.

“I know things might feel hopeless now, but trust when I say there is an end somewhere. Just hang in there a little longer, Jungkook,” this conversation had grown very serious. They both were dancing around the actual topic at hand, but they certainly knew what was being discussed.

They both sat in silence for a little while, letting it speak louder than words could in the moment, steadily smoking away their woes. Jungkook’s soft cries gradually grew quieter.

“Jungkook… I don’t really know the type of people you have in your life, but like I mentioned the last time you were at the office, I really recommend leaning on whatever support system you have. Friends, family, and I want you to know I’ll always be here if you need someone to rant to. If things ever feel like they’re getting too much, you can always call or stop by the office with a little heads up. You’re not alone and I don’t want you to feel that way.” Yoongi added after a particularly long puff from his cigarette.

The sentiment was nice and even though Jungkook was a mess right now, he still appreciated it. It was enough that for a moment it pushed away that terrible thought of him not being worthy of help anymore— for a second he wanted to believe somehow everything would work out as it should. It’ll be a tough battle and if worse comes to worse, at least maybe Yoongi will be there to lean on.

“Thank you…” Jungkook’s voice was soft as he spoke.

It was only a moment though, and bringing up all these emotions he tried his best to keep at bay made his head feel like a mess. It was so much, too much, and he really was so tired at this point. His eyes grew watery all over again, but his cheeks burned as he realized they were in fact in public. He could only imagine what the people passing by would think of him…

“But it still hurts, it hurts so much.” Jungkook was trying his hardest to keep the tears at bay. Yoongi was probably tired of all the crying, but they just kept rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t want to li—”

“Boys!” A sudden voice called out.

Yoongi and Jungkook looked back over to the tent and saw the lady who was sitting on the stool earlier had her head poking out.

“Your food’s ready!” She added once she saw that she got their attention. Yoongi flashed her a quick thumbs up and she sent one back before heading inside.

“What were you saying?” Yoongi tried to steer things back on topic, but Jungkook shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter—” He said, still wiping the tears off his face. “I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starving.” He was quick at getting up and heading over to the trash can to put out his cigarette and throw it away.

Yoongi wanted to stop him, but just decided they could discuss things a little more as they ate. Maybe things would go better with some food in their systems, especially for Jungkook.

Yoongi caught up to him. “By the way, I don’t mind you calling me hyung.” He mentioned with a smile. Suddenly Jungkook looked even more embarrassed.

“You said it earlier and I didn’t mind. I’m not your therapist anymore, no need to keep the formalities. Making things casual seems like the way to go.” He smiled.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I—” But Yoongi shushed him.

“No apologies, it’s fine. Let me hear you say it~” He slightly teased.

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed. “Hyung? Yoongi hyung?” Jungkook tested how it sounded and they both chuckled.

“Sounds right to me. Now let’s go eat.” They hurriedly rushed back inside to the warmth and were greeted with the mouthwatering sight of the dumplings sitting on their table. Yoongi ordered two more bottles of soju, and once they got their coats off they immediately grabbed their chopsticks and started to dig in.

The place was fantastic— Yoongi was one hundred percent right and Jungkook wished this place would stay here so he could visit more often. He made sure to tell Yoongi hyung that when the place was back in this area to let him know so they could eat here again together.

Now things were in much better spirits considering the difficult conversation they just had outside. Jungkook even asked for more food after he managed to finish so quickly. Nonetheless, something Yoongi tried not to bring up at first was how awfully fast Jungkook was drinking. He easily downed shot after shot, and the bottles quickly came and went over at his side of the table.

“Are you trying to get drunk or something?” Yoongi eventually asked. Even he had lost count of what bottle he was on. Yoongi was still on his third. He had made the decision to just leave his car and take a taxi to work or something in the morning once Jungkook agreed to meet up, but he still wasn’t trying to get hammered. He had a seven-month-old at home he still needed to take care of when he got back. Buzzed, maybe even a little tipsy was the most he was going for tonight. Jungkook though seemed to have different plans.

“I’m fine…” Jungkook sighed as he downed another shot.

Yoongi didn’t want to refute it, this was their first time drinking together, so it’s not like they knew each other’s limits. But he should have trusted the very fact he had eyes and knew that he was drinking way beyond just getting buzzed or even tipsy.

Jungkook could hardly keep his eyes open by the time they were leaving. Yoongi had to be the one to put his coat on, and he practically had to carry him outside back over to the bench they were sitting at earlier. It was also Yoongi who texted Dae-Jung to come pick him up after Jungkook mumbled something about texting him when he asked if he had any plans on getting home.

Dae-Jung was here not too long after, but by then Jungkook was pretty much passed out on the bench. He seemed to notice Jungkook was incapacitated and came jogging out of the car over to the two of them. He didn’t look much older than Jungkook— he had sharp eyes and a short haircut that Yoongi thought only added more to the “professional image” of an employee to the CEO’s son. He was also wearing a suit with a white turtleneck underneath.

“What happened?” Dae-Jung asked concerningly.

“He had way too many. I should have stopped him, I’m sorry.” Yoongi said remorsefully.

“You’re fine… this was his choice and unfortunately this happens too many times these days. Thank you so much for looking after him.” Dae-Jung sighed before heading over to pick Jungkook up.

Yoongi was just going to bid them both farewell, but Jungkook must have woken up a little because as they passed by, Jungkook grabbed onto Yoongi’s sleeve.

“We— we should take him home.” Jungkook slurred lazily to Dae-Jung as he weakly pointed at Yoongi. Yoongi and Dae-Jung both looked at each other before back at Jungkook.

“You really don’t—”

“I don’t mind, unless you planned on driving back.” Dae-Jung huffed, as he repositioned Jungkook on his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over.

Yoongi shook his head.

“Hop in then.” And that’s how Yoongi ended up riding home with them. Jungkook passed out again as soon as they managed to get him in the car. Jungkook’s head rested against the window and his light snores were more than amusing in Yoongi’s buzzed state.

Luckily, Yoongi didn’t live too far away, and it felt like in no time they were pulling up right outside Yoongi’s apartment building.

Yoongi thanked Dae-Jung and said goodbye to Jungkook even though he was completely gone.

Dae-Jung took charge from that point forward. Jungkook and Yuri lived a little further away, fortunately it was late and there wasn’t much traffic, so they managed to make it within thirty minutes. Dae-Jung helped Jungkook out of the car as they stumbled their way up to the apartment. With his aid, Jungkook was able to take off his coat and suit jacket, before they stumbled toward the other bedroom— Jungkook always preferred staying there when he was this drunk.

Yuri hadn’t been there to urge him to stay in their own room anyway. He doubted she would have.

Jungkook was out once again, sleeping far past his alarm, and unsurprisingly he was late to work the next day. He was a mess, his head hurt with every move he made, and all he could think about was how much of a disappointment he turned out to be. He’d messed up everything in his life, and there was no way out at this point.

Every day was a waking nightmare, and he just wanted it to end.

•────•──────────•────•

You both were normally so careful when it came to sneaking off to the storage room. You would always wait a few minutes in between before heading inside, and you even had to do the special knock in order to verify it was each other. This time though, you were in a rush.

Jungkook wasn’t too far ahead of you as you walked swiftly behind him, making sure to keep enough distance between you both, but he wanted you to be quick. With how fast he was moving, you could hardly keep up by the time he was turning the corner to the hallway where the storage room was. You waited a few seconds, then as inconspicuously as you could, you made your way down the same hallway. You didn’t even manage to get the full knock in when the door swung open, and you felt a hand grab your wrist to hastily pull you inside.

Before you even realized, your back was suddenly up against the wall and you were staring right into Jungkook’s eyes. He was close, his hands were right by your sides against the wall. You watched his eyes drift down and scan over your form before they returned to meet your own once again. Even in the dark, his pained expression was obvious.

Jungkook couldn’t stand another moment apart from you so he moved his hands to rest on your waist as he pulled you close to finally meet your lips. You could instantly taste the beer on his tongue as things quickly grew more intense.

That was new. Is that what this was?

You really had no idea how things had moved so fast. You were leading a meeting only a few minutes prior; a rare one Jungkook needed to attend. He’d been making eyes at you as he sat at the head of the table, and while a part of you couldn’t lie it made you a little hot, this was a meeting; a meeting with a lot of other people around. Maybe the beer was the missing piece to this puzzle, it explained why he was so shamelessly eyeing you in front of everyone. It’s a bit strange though— it was only the afternoon, why was he drinking that early?

As soon as the meeting finished, Jungkook stayed behind and just as you were picking up your laptop to leave, Jungkook stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait!” His bright, round eyes stared up at you, pleading almost with his gaze.

You quickly looked around. It’s not like this meeting room really had walls; the ones that faced the office were made up of thick panes of glass organized in a horizontally striped pattern, alternating between clear and frosted glass. The parts that were frosted were larger, but anyone who looked hard enough in between could see you both. You had no idea what he wanted, but you were a little worried.

“Yes?” You clutched your laptop tight to your chest.

Jungkook’s eyes trailed down his lap before he looked back up at you. “Would you have time to go to the storage room quickly?” His voice was soft, but he seemed desperate.

You looked at him a little confused. Usually there would be some type of heads up. “Right now?”

“It’s ummm… it’s an emergency…” His eyes glanced down again before looking back at you.

And that’s how you learned Jungkook should be forced to wear sunglasses all the time because why, why did all it take was him looking at you like that to make you so easily agree? You thought you were stronger than that, but apparently you were a lot easier than you wanted to admit since that was all you needed to give into his pleas. Your legs practically acted all on their own as you speedily ran back to your office to put your laptop back before you somehow caught up to Jungkook making his way to the storage room.

In short, that’s how you ended up here.

His hands eagerly raked up your sides, tugging at your blouse and skirt as they sensually traversed along the fabric. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he practically stuffed his tongue down your throat before you could even process the situation you were in. His kisses were full of more and more desperation and wanting each time his lips met your own. You were never going to get used to how passionately he’d kiss you. It hastily took your breath away, and the heat you felt from the meeting earlier exploded into an even greater fury the longer you were in his arms.

Jungkook suddenly hiked your leg up to his waist, and at this angle you could feel the very reason why he was moving so fast.

“Wh-what’s got you so worked up?” You moaned lightly, your body on fire from the tingles that surged through you.

“You.” Jungkook hurried out in between kisses. “Your existence,” a callback to a running problem in your relationship, this time spun a little more sweetly. The stark answer made your cheeks burn in a way you weren’t prepared for. You tried to brush it off with a smile.

“I’m serious… something’s up with you today.” Something was clearly up— Jungkook’s kisses trailed off your cheek and down your neck where he lightly sucked across your skin. You definitely knew he wasn’t being careful about not leaving any marks.

Jungkook wasn’t really in a talking mood, much preferring to enjoy your whines as his mouth worked on your neck and eager his hips met your own. You always made such pretty sounds. Then when your hands moved to thread in his hair, now he really wasn’t in a talking mood. He couldn’t help but think this wasn’t going fast enough.

“Jungkook?” You questioned the longer the silence went on, gripping his hair tight to get his attention, making him moan into your skin.

Oh.

“Your meeting was hot.” He groaned just thinking back to it, adding to the fact that he really liked it when you played with his hair.

You laughed at that. “And what about spreadsheets, pie charts, and Excel made you this hot and bothered?” It was a funny thought. You were somewhat joking, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure what he was into. Maybe that was actually his thing.

You weren’t expecting the soft, but noticeable bite on the nape of your neck. It didn’t hurt, and you could practically feel his smile across your skin. You yelped slightly at the sensation.

“It’s not that—” Jungkook ground into you a little harder and you could easily feel him right where you wanted. “You feel that? This is your fault.” Jungkook’s voice was a little shaky and his words slurred together from how much he was pushing into you.

You couldn’t stop the moan falling from your lips at his words. This was new. Jungkook was normally so shy, he never was this blunt and you weren’t prepared at all for this new side. What was going on?

It was probably the beer. That was the only explanation.

“I kept— kept thinking about how much I wanted to fuck you on the meeting table.” Jungkook groaned into your skin. It was a dirty thought, one that made his cheeks burn because he was in public and he was supposed to be focusing on your words. He could hardly pay attention as his mind bounced back and forth between admiring your presentation skills to thinking about what it’d be like to take you right there on the table in front of everyone.

At this point, you feared he was drunk. This was completely unlike him.

You tried to ignore how on fire your cheeks were. “Does that mean you didn’t pay attention to anything I said?”

“If I say yes will you do the whole thing again, just the two of us?” He was normally never this bold. He was already making work of getting your shirt loose, managing to get a few buttons undone with his shaky hands, enough to see your black bra come into view. Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off you and wished so much he could see you a little better. He kissed your neck and steadily made his way down your chest.

“Oh— wha—” He could probably sense you were about to say something, so instead of letting you continue the banter, he moved back up to kiss you.

It was brief but enough to quickly take your breath away before he pulled away and buried himself in your shoulder.

“Y/n— I don’t, fuck, I don’t think I can wait— could you take me now?” Jungkook would never normally ask this. Yuri would be so disappointed if she knew he did. He always liked to take care of you in some shape or form before he did anything to you, but today… today…

And you could feel his impatience. No wonder he called it an emergency in the meeting room. And if that wasn’t enough, clearly something must be in the air today because Jungkook was showing you a completely new side to him.

“I’m really sorry— I can try and do more if you need it, I just—”

“Jungkook, please just fuck me.” This little talk was honestly all you needed to get going.

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Jungkook was already kissing you once again as he tried his best to guide you both to the table. It took a bit of work, Jungkook was more than distracted, but eventually he could feel the plastic surface behind you. He wasted no time flipping you over so your hands were planted on the table and your ass was pressed right where he needed you.

“I’ll try and make this quick.” But that wouldn’t be too much of a challenge. He needed you and today things were even worse than usual.

You nodded as you heard the swift sounds of his belt coming undone. He normally was uncoordinated, the need always clouding his senses making even the simplest tasks seem impossible, but today it was even worse. The alcohol surely didn’t help in his struggle.

You could hear him growing frustrated as he wrangled with his belt while lightly grinding into you. He was subtle, but his cute whines were still evident.

“Cmon, please, please, please—” He cried. His eyes were a little watery. Yes, it was this serious for him, he was so close to feeling you, but once again the hurdle of the belt and pants got in the way.

Eventually, things were finally going his way. The belt came undone, his pants unzipped, and finally he was free to feel you. Jungkook was on you in a haste, his hands working fast at pulling up your skirt— even in the dark the view nearly made him lose it; from your thigh highs coming up your legs to your black panties, and the position you were in… Fuck, the arch in your back made you look so ready for him. He was so weak.

Jungkook quickly tangled himself around you. While one hand was on your waist to keep you steady, his other hand was in your panties before you knew it; his fingers were eagerly running through your slit.

“Shit!” You gasped, already failing at keeping yourself quiet.

Jungkook was more than surprised to find you were already wet.

“Fuck—” He groaned, as he buried his head in your shoulder, growing more desperate by the second, already imagining what it would be like to be inside you.

“I’ll be quick— I’m sorry…” He sighed as he started lining up behind you, rubbing himself along the dampness of your panties. Only then did he remember something he had completely forgotten till now.

“Jungkook, please—”

His eyes quickly grew teary realizing how bad this was. “Wait— wait, I don’t have a condom.” He quietly cried.

This got you to pause. “Wait, what?”

“I forgot to buy more…” He didn’t have any left whatsoever. Not even a brief, awkward pause to run back to his office would save him. The last time you were together was when you both made it through the last of the box he bought a few weeks ago. Jungkook had made the note to get more after work, but Yuri had texted him that day saying she was home and he completely forgot about anything else.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Jungkook continued to lightly rub his achy cock along the damp fabric between your thighs. You were so wet.

Shit.

He wasn’t thinking straight at all. You both really should be careful. He thought you two would never be in a situation like this again after he bought condoms, but he wasn’t used to buying them regularly; it wasn’t surprising how easily it slipped his mind. The smart thing to do in this situation would be handling both your needs in some other fashion than being inside you. There were a million ways to get off, it wasn’t the end of the world, but—

“Are you still—”

“Yes! We don’t need one if you’re fine with that.” You hurried out, not even needing him to finish the question. It was disappointing how that confirmation was all that he needed to keep going. No more questions, talking, banter, anything, he just had to feel you.

Jungkook swiftly moved your panties to the side and shakily rubbed his length across your soaked folds. A choked moan fell from his lips at the sensation. He couldn’t take it anymore, the need grew too much to even attempt to tease you further. He hurriedly lined himself up and finally pushed his cock inside you. Jungkook was in such a rush, he was completely unprepared to be reminded how good you felt bare like this.

“Oh fu—” A few tears slipped from his eyes as he basked in your warmth, amazed at how tightly you were wrapped around him.

“Jungkook, oh my g—” You whined as his hand snaked back down into your panties and lightly started rubbing circles around your bud. He wanted to treat you well still, the guilt he felt rushing things was impossible to ignore.

Jungkook nearly cried, savoring the way you tightened around him. It was grueling to try and keep still. He wanted to go slow for both your sakes, but mainly for you so you’d have that opportunity to get adjusted; he would hate to hurt you due to his own selfish desires.

“Please, Jungkook!” You cried, clamping hard onto the table. Tears had even started to prick your eyes.

“You think you can take me?” He groaned, even though you were practically squeezing him to give you more.

“What about ‘Jungkook, please fuck me’ is so hard to understand?” Your bratty tone was the last straw in snapping his reserve. He roughly pulled out and thrusted back into you, making you both moan out at the sensation. He didn’t mean to be so forceful, but—

“Quiet,” a simple one-word command that Jungkook practically growled into your ear. “You always talk too much.” He sighed as he began his steady pace of rocking into you, never once moving his hand away from your clit.

You nearly screamed at the sensation and quickly had to remind yourself that you were in a storage room at your job, and people weren’t that far away. You had to control yourself, but fucking Jungkook…

Instead of saying anything more, you obeyed like he wanted. It wasn’t like you necessarily wanted to, but as he started increasing his pace, you knew anything that would come out of your mouth at that point would only get you in trouble.

It was almost mind-boggling that this was the same man you’ve argued, consoled, and talked with over the last month. What was going on?

You kept quiet trying your best to keep yourself under control as he pounded into you from the back. One hand on your waist, pulling you back to meet his hips, the other working tirelessly on bringing you closer and closer to the end. It felt good— more than good, but you didn’t want to admit that. You honestly hated thinking about how good the sex was with him sometimes.

It was only temporary, this would end someday, hopefully soon. This spelled disaster before anything had even happened yet, but deep down, you knew this path would only get more complicated the longer you both kept this going.

This was bad news, this was bad news, this was bad new— But your warnings were being drowned out by the surge of pleasure running through your body by his hand and his cock that always managed to fill you so well.

Suddenly his pace slightly faltered and his grip on your waist grew tighter. “C-Close—” He fumbled out, trying to steady himself once more.

He knew going into this it wouldn’t last long. That meeting had worked him up in ways that he wasn’t prepared for, he couldn’t even pretend he was better than this. His daydreams were more vivid than anything he used to experience. They were memories. They were dangerous, powerful memories that he couldn’t run from even with his employees all around him. It was pathetic.

Now that he had you to himself, he couldn’t even fake composure. The scene was phenomenal, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your panties clumsily pushed to the side, your thigh-highs he wondered if were getting stained with your juices, and the way your ass would jiggle with each thrust he made. Jungkook could have cum just from his thoughts alone. You felt so fucking good around him, he couldn’t keep it together no matter how slow he tried to move. It was too much, and it wasn’t too long after that he felt himself starting to speed towards his release.

You both were prepared for things to end soon as they always do, but for the first time in the few weeks you both have been sneaking away to the meeting room, you heard footsteps.

These weren’t the typical footsteps that you both would hear whenever someone would pass by this pretty destitute hallway, no, these footsteps were loud. Instead of just fading as they walked off, they only got louder and louder with each second that passed letting you both know that they simply weren’t going along through the outside hallway, they were getting closer.

You both instantly froze the longer you realized what that meant. The possibilities quickly ran through your heads. Best case scenario, this was someone who simply took a wrong turn and would be going back pretty soon after they realized that the only thing down here was a storage room. Worst case scenario, the only other people who have access to the room— it was a janitor innocently coming over to get more supplies.

There wouldn’t be enough time to try and cover yourselves to pretend like nothing perverse had been happening only moments prior. It would simply be the end and the beginning to the hell that would await you.

Luckily, your question was answered before they even made it to the door and your mind wandered too far. It wasn’t one, but definitely multiple people who were laughing and joking with each other as they got closer.

“What’s down here, hyung?” A younger voice filled the hallway quite clearly.

“I’ve never been down this hallway before.” Another voice said.

They were newbies— new people who joined the office and were receiving an in-depth tour of the building by their senior. There should be no reason to panic anymore besides the minor inconvenience, but things were never that simple.

The minute Jungkook heard voices, his first instinct was to pull you close so you were flush against his chest. His hand went over your mouth to keep you quiet, shushing you right in your ear while he was still buried deep inside you. The position, maybe it was the situation, you weren’t exactly sure yourself, but apparently Jungkook hit a button you had that you didn’t know existed.

As the group grew closer you were trying your best to keep calm, but you found it extremely—

“Oh—” Jungkook quickly had to bury himself in your shoulder. You were tightening around him so much, so fucking much.

“Ok, so what’s down here?” Another person in the group said. You were hardly paying attention anymore, but they were standing right outside the door.

They were right outside, but no matter what, you just wouldn’t relax around him. Jungkook tried his best to control himself and take steady, deep breaths just until the group left. But they weren’t moving, for whatever reason, this little hallway they found was the best place to be a great hang out spot and get into some random conversation about who knows what.

“Fuck…” Jungkook cried out as quietly as he could into your shoulder. He wasn’t strong enough at all to do this. You were squeezing him so much, and he had already been close, trying to keep still was—

His hips almost had a mind of their own as they steadily began to pump into your sopping heat. He tried his best to keep his movements small, not to make too much noise, but when he moved that only made it so much worse—

“Sto— please— Y/n!” He was forcing himself to whisper, but it almost felt like he was yelling in the moment. He had to keep calm, but you were making this difficult. Why was this happening?! And somehow, as if things couldn’t get any worse… None of you were listening to what the group outside were saying, not until the point where one distinct voice questioned— “Ok, so the only thing down here pretty much is this storage room?”

“What do you think is in there?” Someone else said.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in there before, but I can’t imagine it’s anything that interesting.”

“Let’s seem,” it was the one who sounded a little younger— curious, oh he was so fucking curious because who suggests that? But the distinct sound of the doorknob turning only made Jungkook that much more desperate, his thrusts growing far too hurried for someone who was trying to keep quiet.

Click- click- click— no matter what way they turned, the door wouldn’t open, but the adrenaline you both were running on was unlike anything else.

“Huh… guess it’s locked.”

“Yeah, look, you need to use your badge to get access.”

“We don’t have access?”

It sounded like someone tried, the familiar game-like failure buzz sounded and the sounds of disappointed sighs filled the hallway.

But you both heard it, and it was a sound of relief as Jungkook felt like he was two seconds away from derailing. They had to leave soon— they had to leave soon— please—

“Anyway, time to move on to the other parts of the tour, no reason to get stuck here.” Someone sounded, probably the senior who was guiding everyone around. Then, the sounds of footsteps steadily grew quieter and quieter.

Your muffled moans, as Jungkook instantly hurried his pace, grew louder and more desperate right along with Jungkook as his hand went faster and faster. You were so tight…

Their footsteps were still going down the hallway when Jungkook couldn’t stop himself anymore from spilling into your warmth. A muffled cry went into your shoulder as he hastily pumped you full of his cum. It felt like this giant wave crashed over him, it knocked him down and he couldn’t even think about getting back up. He was shaking, hushed cries and curses filling the room, because what the fuck just happened?

But Jungkook was not in the mood to question it now. In his post-bliss haze, all he could focus on was getting you over the edge as well. Jungkook didn’t waste another second and picked his pace up once again on your clit.

“Want to see you cum for me…” He lazily whispered in your ear, and all the while his hand was still over your mouth, so all you could respond with was your muffled cries into his hand. You really do talk too much sometimes.

You had no idea where this was coming from, and your body didn’t either. You had tears in your eyes at how good he felt, and Jungkook could feel them running down onto his hand.

It didn’t take much until that knot finally snapped and you finished hard around him. You tightened so much around his spent length that as Jungkook was fighting the overstimulation, somehow you were able to easily have him cumming into you again while he worked you both through it like the pathetic man he was.

It was intense, and out of the month this affair had been happening, you hadn't experienced anything like this. You don’t think you ever have.

You both were rendered messes as slowly but surely you started to come back down. Jungkook nearly collapsed onto you. Your knees felt weak, but you could only imagine what he was feeling having cum so fast right after his first orgasm.

For a little while, you just listened to your labored breaths. It was like the disastrous calm after a storm. The sun was out, but all that did was highlight the devastating damage left in its wake.

Jungkook was slouched over you, and as time passed your breathing grew more in sync. You honestly didn’t want to move. Something about this moment made your heart hammer painfully in your chest; you figured it was the adrenaline. But eventually, Jungkook found the strength to pull away from you and you hated how you already missed his warmth. To distract yourself, you made quick work at trying to get yourself as presentable as you could again— pulling your skirt down, buttoning up your blouse, smoothing down your hair, and you’d touch up your makeup a little later.

Jungkook barely managed to get his pants back up and was leaning against the wall, looking more spaced out than ever. In the silence, it made you think about something that you both had unintentionally avoided over the last month.

“Do you think it might be a good idea to not keep doing this at our job…?” You laughed weakly. “I know they couldn’t get in, but what if that was a janitor.”

Jungkook opened his eyes and looked at you.

Oddly enough, this affair had never left the office besides that one time you gave him a handjob before a meeting at another company. It was never something you both discussed, it just kinda happened this way. There was this unspoken line that for some reason none of you decided to cross since this started— inviting each other home.

Jungkook might have had his own reasons, but at least for you the office made it less real. Just like the very day you found yourself on Jungkook’s desk, it was almost like there was this haze in the air that made the reality of what you were doing easier to bear. At home— that felt personal— too personal for something that needed to have ended weeks ago, something that should have never started in the first place. Things just seemed easier here, risky yes, but convenient and made it a lot less difficult to convince yourself that you weren’t having an affair with a married man.

But again, it was risky, and you were bound to get caught one day if this kept going. Maybe you hoped that the last time would really be the last, no need to bring him over, but for some reason you just couldn’t see that happening anymore. It felt more likely one day you both were going to get caught with your pants down by the janitor than you were to end things right now.

That brush with the possibility, while exhilarating, you knew it was a warning sign from the universe that the next time you both might not be so lucky.

“You’re probably right…” He sighed.

“Your place probably isn’t a good idea considering… well, you know… it’s just me at my apartment, no roommates whatsoever, so we could finally have some privacy.” You suggested.

Jungkook slowly nodded, his silence lingered for a while.

“Unless maybe you’re not comfortab—”

“No, no, sorry. Your place is fine. It’s probably best to continue things from there then. Next time I guess we’ll meet there.” Jungkook rushed out, but you could tell something was a little off about him. He normally got quiet after things were done, but this was just unlike him.

“Alright, my place it is then.” You sighed. It was weird, you literally just had some of the best sex you ever had, yet Jungkook’s low mood was so easily sucking the new found energy right out of you.

Silence passed for a little while before you couldn’t take it any longer. “Are you doing ok? I could practically taste the alcohol you drank earlier. Did you go somewhere? Everything alright?” You finally asked, more than a little concerned.

Your eyes bared into him as you waited for his answer.

Jungkook weakly smiled into the darkness. “Just trying to make it through the day.”

His answer did nothing but make you more worried, it just confirmed your worst fears. It’s not like he went maybe to some fancy brunch with friends, he was simply day drinking for no other reason than to drown out whatever sorrows he was dealing with.

“Are you drunk, you seem a little…” Off, he’s seemed off all day and that says something, because everything about him was off on a daily basis— today strayed even further from the ordinary.

“Not drunk… just maybe buzzed… no— just a little more than that. I think tipsy, feeling a little…” His voice trailed off as he shook his hand, “Not all there, but not completely gone.”

His answer didn’t surprise you there.

“Maybe you should stay here or head back to your office for a little while and sober up.” You suggested, trying your best to help out. It wasn’t like he was drunk drunk, but it was definitely obvious there was something off about him— you knew that before you had your tongue in his mouth. You worried someone else might realize.

Jungkook sighed. “You’re right… things just feel easier like this…”

You walked a little closer, beckoning him to continue.

“It’s just getting harder and harder to make it through… I’m trying, but I’m just so weak. I wish I was stronger.” Jungkook tried to laugh, but his eyes were watery. He was glad you couldn’t see.

But even in the darkness, he noticed your concerned eyes staring up at him. Suddenly you were wrapping your arms around his frame. It wasn’t something he expected as your warmth embraced him in a whole new way, his eyes were wide and for a second the haze of the alcohol dissipated.

“You are strong… You managed to get out of your cozy bed today and brave going through this awful fucking weather to get to work.” You were trying to be funny, and it made you happy hearing Jungkook chuckle. “I’m serious though, just getting out of bed is worth celebrating— don’t say you’re weak because it’ll only make it more true the more you say it.” You said while gently rubbing his back.

Jungkook didn’t say anything for a while, he was just enjoying the feeling of you this close a little too much. “Thank you.” He smiled. He couldn’t say he believed that entirely yet, but it still felt nice hearing someone like you say that.

“No problem… and sorry—” You pulled back and it took everything in Jungkook not to try and go for another. “You just looked like you needed a hug.”

It probably only took away a hair off of the mountain that was all his problems, but still it helped. “Thank you, really.”

You smiled at him and Jungkook couldn’t stop the weird way his heart twisted in his chest as he stared at you.

“Anyway, I have a Christmas tree I need to go decorate.” You sighed, stretching your tired limbs.

Jungkook looked at you curiously.

“Apparently, all the teams on the floor are competing this year on who can decorate the best Christmas tree. Director Son is really passionate about it and beating the other teams, so we’re having an unofficial meeting to start working on it.”

As you spoke, Jungkook’s eyes widened as he remembered that the holidays were approaching fast, tomorrow was the first already. At this, Jungkook’s face fell.

“What, you think it’s stupid?” You questioned and Jungkook quickly shook his head.

“It’s not that—”

“Maybe the fact we aren’t working, because—”

“No… you guys are fine. December is just busy for me, and I don’t know— this year I’m not really too excited.” He sighed. He normally never was, but he knew exactly why this year felt so off. December meant he would have to face his and Yuri’s family again, and as if he couldn’t get any more pathetic, he needed to face them with the knowledge he was cheating on his wife. The “cheery” holiday spirit was just the cherry on top to bring him down. While everyone else was going to be out celebrating, he would be wallowing in his self misery, reflecting and thinking back to what a horrible year this turned out to be.

“Well, if you want to, you could always join our team in the competition if you need a little holiday cheer.” You were both joking and being incredibly serious. It was evident he wasn’t lying, and you were honestly worried about him. Maybe a little fun is what he needed.

Jungkook laughed. “I’ll think about it.” He wouldn’t, he wasn’t in the mood at all— he’d just bring everyone down with him.

“I hope so.”

You stretched again. “Anyway, were you heading out?” You questioned when he still hadn’t moved.

“Yeah, I think I’ll head back to the office like you suggested,” he couldn’t deny and say he wasn’t going to try and go for another beer. He recently bought a new pack to restock his fridge, but that was how he ended up tipsy today. He hoped he would get a grip and avoid it though, to actually heed your advice. He had work to do later. “But you can leave first and head out to get tangled in tinsel.”

You both laughed. “No, that’s not me, but I definitely know a few coworkers who I might need to detangle— Taehyung will somehow goof his way into getting wrapped up in decorations, then he’ll end up asking me to unravel him.” You laughed at the thought because, honestly, that would be something that he would do.

You didn’t notice Jungkook slightly frown at the mention of his name.

“Anyway, thank you for being here— sorry for pulling you here so suddenly.” He apologized.

“You’re fine, it won’t matter anymore. We shouldn’t have to worry about getting caught next time.” You smiled.

“Right… till then.” He weakly smiled back.

Another moment of silence passed, it was almost like you both wanted to say something, but none of you worked up the courage to spit out.

“Till next time then. Take care of yourself, okay?” You pointed a finger at him.

Jungkook just nodded.

“Oh, and don’t forget to eat lunch!” You were saying anything you could think of to keep yourself around just a little longer in case he wanted to spill what he had on his mind. You really were concerned.

Jungkook just nodded again.

You glanced at him worriedly before you started heading to leave. Your eyes maintained their gaze, but you finally broke away and opened the door. With the click of it closing, you were gone.

Jungkook was alone.

In an instant, his eyes crinkled while tears poured out and slipped onto his cheeks. Jungkook quietly clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his abrupt sobs.

Why does it hurt so much?

He just wanted it to end. Peace, he can’t go on like this much longer. All he wanted was a break from this hellish storm. Does it ever end? Everlasting, boundless, a harsh, brutal storm for the wicked. He couldn’t think of a more fitting punishment for people like him.

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