#also yes venture would be the type of kid who would wonder away

[dawnthefox24]

*Venture is on a leash harness attached to them.* Venture: is the harness really important? Tracer: Sorry love it is, cause were were going you might be too excited since last time you sorta well... Cole: You went to see some roman mythology artifacts.... Venture: Wha-C-Can you really blame me!? Cole and Tracer:*look at each other* Venture: What? Cole: Venture you disappeared from sight while moving the payload, if I recall correctly you told Lena and I quote " I gotta go! I'll be back in 5 minutes..." While exploring Eichenwalde...You were gone for a about 7 hours... Venture:....Okay so I tend to get excited but can you blame me!? Cole: Last time you went on a mission with Hana song and Kiriko, disaster occurred because you took them on an underground adventure because of Dollaseite-(Ce) was found near the area Venture: Hey it's was rare seeing Dollaseite (Ce)!! Do you want to learn about it, cause its so cool and very rare!? Cole: What- N-No just please behave on this mission...please Sloane Venture: Alright fine I'll behave I promise I won't get excited about seeing something I like...Maybe... Cole:*pinches the bridge of his nose* oh boy....

[tideswept]

Every so often I'm like I wonder how friend tideswept is doing and then I pop into your asks to ask you.

Hello hi hope you're doing well!

And also

What's your opinion of turtles and tortoises? Yes no? We vibing? I think turtles are majestic gorgeous absolutely would pat one. Tortoises are like that old uncle on the street down my house who smokes weed like it's a sport

Not great atm but I'm doing my best. 💜 I hope you're doing well!

ooh, so. You just locked a core memory! {+1 friendship!} {+1 cursed ramble obtained!}

So, I like turtles. Because I'm scared of tortoises. When I was growing up, I was told that tortoises would bite you and never let go, their head would have to be chopped off. And I did not want to lose a finger or get the tortoise killed.

Now THE THING IS, my grandmother had a tortoise. It lived in the backyard and had its own tree, a small man-made... uh, puddle, honestly, it was only about half a foot deep at the lowest point. It was living the life. Everyone knew to avoid that spot, and the yard was big enough that it really wasn't a concern. There was a small house in the back that was used as a storage, and that's where the dogs lived. So that's where I hung out.

But every so often, I'd run into the tortoise who had decided to venture out into the great beyond of the yard. And I'd back away like I expected it to launch itself at me.

This wasn't even a large tortoise. I couldn't tell you what type it was (probably something common to South America) or how old. Even as a little kid, it really wasn't terribly impressive. Probably weighed about eight pounds or so. But by god, it gave the most bombastic side eye and had zero fear. NONE.

It knew it was god, and feared no man. Or dog.

Or child.

[demonlordclayman]

Chapter 19 Thoughts

Firstly, I was so delighted to see that Clayman confided in his friends. It does make some sense though - he needed people to understand why they were all asleep suddenly. Well, Eva at least. It does sound like he's keeping it a secret from the Five Fingers. I wonder how he explained that away? Well, I guess they just have to listen and accept things sometimes, in any case.

I was also wondering when Rain would show up and the answer is NOW! It makes sense to see that the Hero is so powerful that Rain easily recognizes that she's stronger than Rain is, but it still surprised me for some reason! But then again, Rain is pretty easy going (Clayman is going to have quite the Rain shaped headache soon). ALSO THE HERO BEING ABLE TO PUT EVERYONE TO SLEEP IN THE ENTIRE CASTLE IS...SO MUCH...

This is the most incredible Clayman expression I've ever seen in my life. I made it one of my accounts pfps because. Truly. Beautiful.

I was also happy to see Laplace, and happy that his appearing without warning is so normal that Clayman doesn't even question it and accepts it at face value. Unlike Rain, who he questions immediately.

Anyway, the explanations and discussion in this chapter were good, but I think the most exciting thing was that we're going to the Engrassia auction next chapter! I am very excited about this because it sounded like Clayman himself was planning to go.

I've been curious about whether Clayman goes into human civilization and if so how he does that (I mean, besides "he walks"), especially since we do see him in a human city in the flashback of his first meeting with Yuuki. He was just wandering around casually in his normal Demon Lord outfit...that being said, one explanation for that is that he was expecting to meet Yuuki, even if he didn't know what he looked like. It still strikes me as supremely odd though. And it didn't seem like he was expecting to meet someone...? or if he did, he didn't know much about them at all since the whole Kazalim thing was a surprise.

Anyway, I digress. My point is, it seems like it would be very unusual and also terrifying (from a human perspective) for Demon Lords to regularly venture into human society. So I guess I'm curious if Clayman will go as himself or if he'd disguise himself...but tbh I don't think he's the type to use a disguise, he's much too proud. So in that case, how are people going to react to him? I'm very curious about that. Humans seem to feel Demon Lords are Very Evil Always so like...I can't imagine anyone will be happy, though maybe unable to do much about it since they're afraid. I think that will be very interesting to see.

Furthermore, the prospect of getting excellent magic items is very exciting too!!! That could make a huge difference in the power of both Clayman and his subordinates. I'm trying to think offhand if there were any magic items Rimuru gained that Clayman could potentially get instead, but I think most of Rimuru's came from Kurobe, so I don't think that will be relevant...but even so, it's still got a lot of potential. And Clayman is loaded, though he may become destitute if he doesn't watch Rain- just kidding. Mostly.

So yes! I enjoyed this chapter but it's left me very very eager for the next one!

[ellsbclls]

you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there??? 

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut. 

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh,  enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well. 

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub, 

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

[fruitcoops]

hiii i've just spent the last 36-48 hours reading your works and oh dear do i lOVE your writing and this universe :') . i dont know if you are taking requests but i think it would be kinda interesting (and low key hilarious) if you would write the lions reacting/reading thirst tweets? idk if this is a dumb idea or not but just like some of them reacting to them and going "well i'm actually gay/married so.. no!.. but thank you!"

Part two of the six-month celebration, everyone! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who submitted comments--I had over 60 come in, and while I couldn’t include them all, reading them was a true joy. The Lion Pride channel was something I started writing on a whim; I never expected it to grow like this <3 Much love to all of you!

TW for alcohol mentions and thirst tweets (nothing explicit)

“Why do I always fear for my life around you?” Sirius asked as Marlene settled into a cushy chair to the side of their table.

She smiled, catlike, and crossed her legs primly. “Because only Finn appreciates me.”

“That’s just the Aries connection, Cap,” Finn said with a smug grin.

“We’re both Leos, Harzy.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “You should probably start asking questions before this devolves further, Marley. He’s gonna keep digging himself a hole and we won’t get anything done.”

Marlene’s smile returned with a vengeance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Loops! We’re not doing any questions at all today.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Read it and weep.” She tossed a small posterboard at him like a frisbee; he caught it, barely, though both Talker and Sirius had to duck out of the way. Marlene faced the camera and winked. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! Today I’m here with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Thomas Walker, and our wonderful cubs to react to your comments on our videos!”

“Bet you thought we’d never see ‘em, huh?” James asked.

“The comments fall into four categories: thirsty, funny, mean, and sweet. I will be reading two of those groups, and my lovely fiancée will be reading the others because she is the human embodiment of sunshine.”

“If you make Dorcas read the mean ones, I’ll be sad,” Leo laughed.

Marlene gave him a look of disbelief. “You think I’m passing up a chance to roast you guys? Puh-lease. We’re starting off strong with some thirsty, thirsty comments! Loops, you’re up first.”

“This is going to be fun,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

She cleared her throat, then turned a smoldering look on their table. “I didn’t know I had a freckle kink, but then Remus Lupin appeared and now here we are.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus muttered, covering his face with his hands as the others howled with laughter.

“Lupin has been looking sexy as hell on the bench for years now. I'm so glad people are simping over him like he deserves,” Marlene read. “And there’s a little heart emoji, just for you.”

“This is every one of my nightmares come to life,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms.

James lifted his glasses to swipe away the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is everything I have ever wanted.”

“Y’know, it is so good to see people drooling over this hot piece of ass at last,” Finn sighed, reaching over to ruffle Remus’ hair as his face turned bright red.

“One more, and it’s a good one,” Marlene warned. She licked her lips, then had to take a moment to laugh before speaking. “I feel like Remus Lupin is the type of guy to bake you muffins—”

“Accurate,” Leo said.

“—but is also a kinky motherfucker.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as the table erupted into cheering. Logan pumped both fists in the air and Sirius was laughing so hard no sound came out; Talker sank so low in his chair that only his head and shoulders were visible as he applauded.

“Why do people comment these things?” Remus asked, barely above a whisper. “Holy fuck, I’m engaged!”

“Speaking of…” Marlene raised her eyebrows and Sirius smile drooped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Buckle up, Cap!” She rolled her shoulders out. “Get someone who looks at you the way Sirius Black looks at a hockey puck.”

Remus snorted; James’ laugh was so short and sharp that it set everyone else off as well. “That sounds like I have a hockey puck fetish!” Sirius complained. “Which is so, so not true!”

Finn made an ‘ehh’ noise, and he leaned around Remus to smack the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Next one!” Marlene announced. “Sirius Black was my bi awakening.”

A beat of silence passed. “Is that it?” Sirius ventured, looking nervous.

“Yep.”

“Aw, man, that one’s lame,” Talker said, shaking his head. “Everyone thinks Cap is a little hot.”

Remus shot him a look. “A little?”

“Fair. Marley, I dare you to find one person who wouldn’t tap that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Me, though that dovetails nicely into the last one for our lovely captain. Ahem. I understand why Remus is with Sirius: he's hot as hell and rich, I'd hit that too.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Leo gasped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Finn and Logan turned to him in unison with a mix of disbelief and offense written all over their faces. “Dude.”

“First of all, Leo, you found yourself two hot rich boys,” Remus interrupted. “Second, that comment is forgetting that he’s funny, and smart, and nice, and—”

Seconds after the initial cover, Sirius took his hand off Remus’ mouth as if he’d been burned. “Did you just lick me?”

“Moving on! This is in all caps, so be prepared.” Marlene shuffled through her posterboards and turned to Leo with an ominous smile. He glanced toward the camera in mild fear. “What does a person have to do to get some hockey player ass?! Like why is Leo Knut so fine?!”

“Amen!” Logan called as Leo blushed.

“According to six of the seven people at this table, the answer to that first question is to be a hockey player,” Talker laughed. “The world may never know the answer to the second, sadly.”

“Lily could play hockey,” James said, resting his chin on his hand. Every single one of the others rolled their eyes. “She could! She’d be so good at it, too.”

“We know,” Finn groaned. “You only mention it every other day.”

“Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Potter,” Marlene began with a sly look as she held up a new card. “Do James and Lily Potter need a third? Asking for me specifically.”

James paused, dumbstruck, while the others drummed their hands on the table. “…no?”

A general sigh of disappointment went up. “I was really hoping he’d say yes,” Leo said.

“Ask Lily next time,” Remus recommended.

James turned to him and blinked slowly. “What are you insinuating, Loops?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll like this one,” Marlene assured him. “James Potter is the ultimate dilf.”

“You’re damn right I am!” James whooped. “Vindication, bitches!”

“Marley, what have you done?” Talker whispered. “He’ll never shut up about that, now.”

“Oh, never,” James all but cackled. “I’m officially a dilf, you guys!”

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned.

“Tremzy, are you ready? We’ve got a couple very special ones for you,” Marlene said.

“Anything to get us out of this hell,” Logan begged.

“In that case: Logan Tremblay’s ass is better than Sidney Crosby’s. I said what I said.”

A pleased flush rose to his cheeks as Finn and Leo high-fived over his head. “Really? Thank you!”

“And they would be correct!” Finn announced. “Best ass in the league.”

“Come on,” Remus scoffed, though he was smiling.

Marlene cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t think I can legally read this on air without being censored or getting the video taken down, but…”

She turned the board around; all seven of them leaned forward to read it, then slowly looked at Logan, who turned vivid red. “Mon dieu. Is that—someone commented that on a video? Like, for people to see?”

“I feel like I need to bleach my eyes,” Sirius said just as Finn began shaking with silent laughter.

Leo’s face fell. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Finn wheezed, scooting forward to fist-bump Marlene. “We wanted to see what you guys would say. Fuckin’ hell, your faces.”

“Alright, Talkie, are you ready?” Marlene asked around her laughter. “Seeing Thomas Walker with a baby makes me want to have his babies…please hit me up.”

He held up his index finger and took a second to laugh before responding. “If that’s Noelle, yes. If that’s anyone else, I’m flattered, but absolutely not.”

Logan made a face. “Ew.”

“We have two more,” Marlene warned. “For some very special people that aren’t here today, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust the look on your face.”

“Daddy Dumo makes me swoon.”

A muddle of horrified noises echoed through the studio as all seven of them cringed. “Oh, my god, that’s my dad!” Logan yelped, covering his ears. Sirius looked vaguely ill and Remus’ shoulders crept toward his ears; James shuddered.

“The worst part is, we all know he can get it,” Finn said with a grimace. “God, I feel like I just heard someone talking about my parents having sex.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that,” Marlene laughed. “Last one, from one of our truth or drinks.”

Remus went pale half a second too late. “N—”

“Hope Lupin is a milf.”

A broken noise escaped his mouth and he clamped his hand over it while Talker rubbed his back in sympathy. Sirius shook his head. “Somehow, that’s worse than Dumo’s.”

“Whoever sent that in, show some respect!” Leo said indignantly as Remus bonked his forehead against the table. “Hope Lupin is a lovely woman!”

“I think they noticed that particular fact,” Marlene pointed out, earning herself several scandalized shouts of her name and a whine from Remus. “That’s all we have for thirst comments! Are you ready for some funny ones?”

“Anything,” Remus pleaded. “I am begging you, anything else.”

Marlene shook her head as she stood, still smiling, and kissed Dorcas on the cheek when she entered the frame. “Go for it, love.”

“Dorcas!” they all cheered, lighting up immediately.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a while!” She curled up in Marlene’s vacant spot and took her own posterboards out from underneath the seat. “Alright, let’s rock and roll. Pascal Dumais is the team dad and nothing will change my mind, and Tremzy is the annoying youngest child.”

“That is so accurate,” Sirius laughed, leaning just out of range of Logan’s playful punch. “Whoever commented that has no idea how right they are.”

“We’ve got a whole sibling dynamic thing going on,” Talker agreed. “Tremzy’s the baby of the family, Cap is the quietly chaotic middle child, and Pots is the older brother that starts shit and inevitably gets blamed for however out-of-control it gets.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are one hundred percent correct. In a similar vein: Pots was the dad jokes friend before he was even a dad.”

“Painfully so,” Leo confirmed, shaking his head as they all groaned in agreement. James looked rather smug about the whole thing. “So many puns.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Dorcas mused as she drew a new card. “If Tremzy looked directly into my eyes for even two seconds, all of my problems would be solved. I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Finn and Leo said in unison.

“It’s something about the eyes, I think,” James added. “They just stand out so much that it’s a little startling straight-on.”

Logan looked to the camera and stared at it, unblinking; it zoomed in slightly on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he said with mock solemnity. “Your problems are solved.”

“Well, that was terrifying,” Sirius said drily. “Got any more for us, Ms. Meadowes?”

“Of course I do! We’ve got quite a few for Loops and Leo.” She took a sip of her water before getting comfortable again. “My favorite thing about these videos is that we can all see Loops get steadily buffer as the season goes on. Good for you, king!”

“Flex! Flex! Flex!” the six of them chanted; Remus rolled his eyes, but slid his sweater sleeve to his elbow and flexed his forearm, resulting in enough hoots and hollers that they could probably be heard a block away. Talker fake-swooned into Leo’s arms and Remus lightly whacked him on the shoulder.

“Remus Lupin looks like he has squishable cheeks,” Dorcas read aloud.

“He does!” James cooed, scooting over and reaching out.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I’ll bite you.”

Sirius cupped his face between his palms and kissed his nose, then pinched both his cheeks gently. “Ta-da!”

“How many of these do we have?” Remus asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Sirius’ hands.

“Just one more for you, and it’s my personal favorite.” Dorcas assured him. “I love how the team probably had no impulse control until Loops joined.”

Sirius let go of his face and dissolved into laughter as Finn nearly fell on the floor. “Oh my—you think he has impulse control?” Talker slapped the edge of the table as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Hell no, Loops is the first person to do stupid shit with us.”

“Yeah, I just don’t get caught,” Remus added around his own laughter. “Everyone thinks I’m such a hardass goody-two-shoes and it lets me get away with so much more than you delinquents.”

“Speaking of delinquents,” Dorcas continued. “This one is from our ‘Taste Testing Sexy Alcohol’ video: ah, yes, now I know how to do a body shot. 10/10, very educational video.”

“Do not take educational advice from us,” Finn blurted instantly. “I know this is a joke, but please exercise caution. That video was a ton of fun but a nightmare to recover from.”

Sirius winced at the memory. “I took two naps and then wished for death for a full day.”

“On a lighter note, who’s ready for some Knutty appreciation?” Dorcas smiled at her cards. “I've only had Leo Knut for a season and half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“Big mood,” four of them said simultaneously.

Leo turned to the camera with a concerned look on his face. “That’s a meme reference, but are y’all okay?”

“No,” Dorcas answered. “Especially not this next person: Sometimes I do something productive and then I remember @LeoKnut is a 19 year old professional athlete who radiates happiness and with two of the hottest boyfriends the good lord has made, and then my bowl of packaged ramen seems less impressive.”

“I’m proud of your ramen,” Leo said, even as the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “And I appreciate the note about my boyfriends, because they are definitely the hottest people the good lord has made.”

Talker stuck his lip out in a pout. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Talkie, I’m biased.”

“Last one before Marlene comes back, so you’d better enjoy it!” Dorcas announced. “Did the Lions effectively utilize girl power when they wrecked toxic masculinity, yes or yes?”

“Can we utilize girl power?” Remus wondered, resting his shin on his hand. “Isn’t that exclusively for, y’know, women?”

“We can utilize himbo power,” Finn suggested.

James gave him an offended look. “Not all of us are himbos!”

“Okay, but you definitely are.”

“I am not!” James held up his fingers to count. “There are only, like, three qualifications, right? I might be strong, hot, and respectful, but I’m not dumb so it doesn’t count!”

“Pots,” Remus said quietly, hiding his smile for half a second. “Buddy, that was four things.”

James paused, then sighed in resignation. “Ah, fuck, I’m a himbo.”

“You really are.”

“At least we don’t promote toxic masculinity.”

They raised their waterbottles in a ‘cheers’ motion as Marlene and Dorcas switched spots; Marlene stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the new boards. “I’m back, beloved himbos. Talker, Leo, you are beloved by the people and have no mean comments. Cap, we’re starting with you.”

“Are they actually mean mean?” he asked.

“Sirius Black seems like a little bitch. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He just. Seems like he'd be a little bitch."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. That answers one question.”

“He’s not a little bitch,” Leo said. “Pouty on occasion, but not a little bitch.”

Remus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, you teared up a little when Hattie got a splinter in her paw but didn’t even yell when you almost sliced your finger off while making dinner.”

“Duality of man,” Finn said sagely.

Marlene cocked an eyebrow. “Finn O’Hara’s hair kind of reminds me of Garfield the Cat.”

“Alright, that’s just rude.”

“It does not!” Logan gasped at the same time Leo made a noise of agreement.

Finn turned to him in utter betrayal. “Nutter Butter, I thought you liked my hair!”

“I do!” Leo defended. “But they’re not entirely wrong. It’s very orange in the sun.”

“I’m never going to forget that,” Finn muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ugh, it bothers me so much that Lupin just objectifies Black all the time!” Marlene read in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “No respect in that relationship!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Marlene stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I have no idea what videos they were watching. Do you feel objectified in your relationship, Cap? I know the opinion of total strangers really bothers you a lot.”

“I’m really glad you picked up on that,” he said with false gravity. “Yeah, it’s such a bummer when my hot fiancé says I look nice. Such a blow to my self-esteem.”

“That was supposed to be a roast against me,” Remus said, looking amused. “Talk about backfiring.”

“Are you ready, Pots? This one’s pretty brutal,” Marlene warned. James nodded and Finn linked their hands for moral support. “James Potter is a swiftie and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “…yeah? That’s true? T Swift is a regular occurrence on the locker room playlist.”

“Also, James Potter looks like someone who would think black pepper was spicy.”

“Now that one is mean,” he complained as the others burst out laughing.  “It’s not my fault I have sensitive taste buds!”

“Oh, honey,” she said under her breath as she took a new card. “Get ready, Tremzy. This first one is short and sweet: Logan Tremblay looks like a lesbian.”

“That is not an insult,” Logan laughed. “Every lesbian I know is rad as fuck. I wish I looked that good in a leather jacket.”

“I just realized Logan doesn’t look short cause he’s next to bunch of hockey players, he’s short cause he’s 5’9.”

The smile slipped off his face in a millisecond as the others roared with laughter. “Quoi?”

“Oh, she got you good,” Sirius gasped, patting his shoulder clumsily. “Holy fuck, can I frame that?”

“That’s not what it says.” An edge of distress appeared in Logan’s voice. “Marley, that’s not what it says.”

James sat on the floor with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “You’re fucking—whoever sent that in, you are my new favorite person. Jesus.”

“Do you need a second to recover before we move on?” Dorcas asked as she draped her arms over the back of Marlene’s chair. “The next one is our biggest section by far.”

“It’s the sweet ones, yeah?” Leo asked.

“Right.”

“It might be a good idea to do those before Lo spontaneously combusts.”

“Agreed!” She swapped with Marlene and hauled a short stack of posterboards out from their hiding place with a smile. “A hug from Dumo can probably solve any issue.”

“Facts,” Logan said. “I could really use one right about now, too.”

“Has anyone noticed how blue Leo Knut’s eyes are?”

“Yes,” the six of them chorused.

Finn gave him a dreamy look. “Every single day.”

“When I first read this one, I thought I wrote it,” Dorcas said with a snort. “Someone give Marlene a raise. No reason why, I just love her.”

“Can we do that?” Sirius asked, looking toward the camera crew. “Can we lobby to give you guys raises? Because you definitely deserve it after all the bullshit you deal with to make these videos watchable, and Marlene, you’ve drawn the short end of the stick ninety percent of the time.”

“How?” she called off-screen.

“You have to actually talk to us and try to get answers.”

“Fair.”

Dorcas finished scribbling something down on her notepad. “Just making a note of this conversation for future reference. Moving on! Sirius Black and James Potter are a prime example of hockey husbands, and I adore them.”

“The ironic part of that is that we’re both in committed relationships, but we’re basically married,” James mused.

Remus shook his head. “You guys are so married. Lily wanted to get you matching rings for your birthday, Pots.”

“That would be so cool!” they said in perfect unison. Remus turned to the camera and spread his hands in a case in point motion.

Dorcas stifled her laughter before moving on. “This one is cute. Give Remus Lupin all the hugs! I feel like I could tell him he’s an inspiration and he’d be so nice about it—” She paused to glance up at them. “—this next bit is in parentheses: all the LGBT Lions give me that vibe, but Cap and Knutty are super intimidating so I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Leo’s face fell and Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “I’m not intimidating!” Leo protested. “I thought we already went over that! Loops gives fantastic hugs, but I want some, too.”

“He definitely deserves all the hugs in the world, but I promise I’m nice,” Sirius said, a bit softer than usual. “Is it because we’re tall?”

Dorcas half-shrugged. “Probably. It’s a little startling at first. Oh, I could’ve written this one, too: The Venn diagram of men I trust and the Gryffindor Lions is a full circle.”

Talker beamed at the camera. “Thank you!”

“So many hockey guys are such douchebags,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “I’m really glad we don’t do that shit.”

“Me, too.” Dorcas slid her old card under her chair. “Sirius Black’s hair looks so soft and I just want to touch it so bad.”

“It is so soft,” Remus agreed immediately. “You have no idea.”

“Everyone wants to touch Cap’s hair,” Finn said, sighing. “It’s so majestic.”

“I need a haircut.”

“No, you don’t,” Remus said as he tugged a stray curl. Sirius hummed.

“This one is from the interview some you did with Jules and Katie: these hockey boys being so soft with kids is my aesthetic! Like, it’s just so adorable to see these big, intimidating dudes be so, so sweet! Love them all!” She turned the card for them to see. “And then they added a heart at the end.”

“It’s impossible to be around those kids and not be happy,” James said. “They’re just too cute and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I love kids.” Finn nodded. ��Especially the Dumais and Jules. They’re a hoot.”

“Jules would die if he heard you say that,” Remus laughed. “The hero worship is still going strong with most of you.”

“This one made me laugh when I first read it, but it’s really sweet,” Dorcas informed them. “Anyone else feel like we were deceived these past five years into thinking Cap was this hard-ass man, when in reality he's a cuddle bug who definitely captures and releases spiders instead of squishing them?”

“You weren’t deceived, I was just closeted,” Sirius said. “Also, I absolutely squish spiders.”

Remus gave him a look. “No, you do not. That’s my job. I’m the catch and release person if I can get away with it.”

James shook his head. “The third week of practices you saw a spider and threw me at it.”

“You did what?” Finn asked.

“There was a spider in my stall,” Sirius sighed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. “And Pots and I were talking so I didn’t see it until I almost sat on it, and my brain decided the only logical thing to do would be to grab him and shove him toward the spider.”

“That was after you shrieked,” Talker added. “Like, literally shrieked. I’ve never heard anyone make a noise like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled. “We get it, I don’t like spiders.”

Remus shrugged. “But you are a cuddle bug. They got that part right.”

“We’re in the final two!” Dorcas announced. “This one has some pictures to go with it, so it’s on my phone. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have.”

“It’s us!” Leo cooed as the phone made its way down the line. In the upper corner of the screen, the photo appeared—it had been taken in New York, and Logan’s whole face was alight with happiness as Leo and Finn each pressed a kiss to his cheek. The camera caught him mid-laugh, so his eyes were closed and his chin was tucked slightly into Finn’s Strand hoodie.

“That’s my screensaver,” Finn said with a grin, pulling his phone out and turning it toward the camera without moving away from Leo. “One of my favorites.”

“I forgot you took that one,” Logan murmured. He hooked his chin over Leo’s shoulder and kissed his cheek; the four others at the table gave soft are you seeing this? looks to the camera and Dorcas smiled.

“Pots, I think yours is next. I hate to break it to you, Talkie, but they didn’t get any of you and Noelle.”

“We don’t take a ton of pictures together,” Talker said as James took the phone. “I mean, we take a bunch of selfies, but we don’t live close enough to each other to actually post that often. What picture is it, J?”

James was staring down at the picture with an unbearably sweet expression. “It’s our wedding. That’s my favorite one, actually.”

Like Logan, they had been captured while laughing—Lily was bent slightly at the waist as James clapped, his glasses just as askew as the flower crown on her head. It was impossible to tell who had told the joke originally, but they were both radiant in the sunset.

“That’s a really good one,” Sirius said with an unreadable look on his face.

“Well, well, well, fancypants, you two got a video.” James wiggled his eyebrows and Remus leaned in to see.

“What kind of video? One of our tikt—oh. Oh, this is so cute.” He shifted his chair over as the short edit began to play. “D, who made this?”

“A fan.”

“It’s really impressive,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off the screen. The edit was a series of photos, both on and off the ice; Sirius knocking their helmets together, then Remus looking back over his shoulder, then both of them in the water playing chicken in the sun. It was a slideshow of their life and their love.

“Can you send that to me?” Remus asked when it was over. “Cause that’s super cool.”

“Sure thing. Are you guys ready for the last one?” When they all nodded, she drummed her fingers on the posterboard and cleared her throat. “Arthur appreciation hours. He deserves it after managing to control the team.”

A cheer went up—all seven stood and applauded, half-laughing and half-whooping. “Miracle worker!” Sirius called.

“Best coach in the league!” Finn added.

“Most tolerant man to ever walk the earth!” Remus raised his water in a toast and they tapped the plastic edges together, nearly spilling all over the table.

Dorcas’ eyes crinkled in a smile as she turned to the camera. “That’s it for today, Lions! Tune in next time for more content of our boys, and thank you for such wonderful comments!”

[lettheladylead]

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 5: Louie [ao3 link]

When she’d gotten the call a few weeks earlier, Goldie initially thought it was from Scrooge. She gave her cell phone number out to a very small number of people, after all, and Scrooge’s home line had its own customized ringtone so she always knew it was him.

Instead, it was one of his kids. Well, one of Della’s kids, she was pretty sure. He introduced himself as Louie and she did a quick search online to see what he looked like - the only run-in she’d had with the kids so far they’d all been dressed the same so even if she had been paying attention, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

Her first instinct had been to tell him no and to move on with her life. She was a busy woman and she had other things to do. But there was a little part of her that was mad at Scrooge for never calling her about the note she’d left in his hat. There was no way he hadn’t seen it and she left him a treasure she didn’t have to because she wanted to go on an adventure with him again. But no. He didn’t call and it’d been almost a year. So she said yes to mentoring because she knew it’d piss him off and there was no greater joy in her life.

Or she’d thought there was no greater joy. But the feeling of someone coming back for her - coming to save her life despite how she treated them - it was something else entirely. Scrooge had done it once or twice in the past, but not recently and not happily. She couldn’t even remember the last time someone had come back for her and her feelings about it were a bit overwhelming so she didn’t even give the kid another glance before bolting out the door.

It’d been a few days since that party and Goldie was enjoying being several hundred million dollars richer. It wasn’t like Sharpie needed the money - he had Scrooge’s inheritance to look forward to (though if Scrooge never planned to retire or die, maybe not? She didn’t like to think about it too much).

She was laying in bed in a familiar hotel in the outskirts of Seattle when she pulled out her wallet to stare at the photos again. The last few days, she’d spent a ridiculous amount of time just staring and thinking and not doing or saying anything. She felt pathetic.

But looking at the kid’s goofy little smile and thinking back to when he helped her effectively pull off their improvised scheme warmed her heart. She’d never felt this way about a member of Scrooge’s family before. Della and Donald had treated her like an aunt on occasion (usually just as a way to get on her nerves), but Goldie never saw either of them as a true schemer like herself. Donald didn’t have any interest in money or treasure and Della idolized her uncle too much to think for herself.

But Louie was different and Goldie could see that. Just the fact that he’d reached out to her after hearing the story of Gumption (which, from what he told her, had a lot of inaccuracies to it. Scrooge loved to exaggerate or conveniently forget details when he told stories of their past) made her want to see what he had to offer. 

Initially, her plan had been to rob the kid and take something small of Scrooge’s - small enough to carry without much effort, but big enough to piss him off - then Scrooge would angrily chase her down and they could argue and she’d tease him and it would’ve been a nice little time. Their Golden Lagoon adventure was nice but Glomgold had ruined a lot of the fun she’d planned so it’d have been nice to get back to basics.

Instead she got weird, mixed up feelings about this kid who reminded her of herself and Scrooge and Donald all combined into one tiny package. She did not want to get attached to anyone in Scrooge’s family. The only reason their relationship worked was because she kept him on edge and interested by keeping him at arm’s length. Getting close to his family was not arm’s length. It was too much. She’d have to push Sharpie away the same way she did with Donald and Della and that was that.

She glanced over at the photo she had of Scrooge in Dawson and felt her heart skip a beat. She loved this picture. She loved thinking about the time they spent together back then, even if he’d broken her heart by the end of it. It didn’t matter anymore. She’d give almost anything to be young with him again - maybe even get a fresh start.

Goldie let out a loud sigh and tossed the wallet across the room - she watched it soar and land gracefully on top of her bags. Her bags were stuffed with gold and jewels and treasures from that crazy little birthday party and she hadn’t had the chance to stop in Dawson and drop it all off at the closest thing she had to a home.

Peeking out of one of her bags was the idol she’d stolen from Sharpie’s room before their adventure began. She stared at it and wondered what kind of significance it held for him. She wasn’t going to give it back, of course, because he needed to be taught a lesson about trusting con artists. But also a little part of her thought about maybe giving it back depending on how important it was to him.

She rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Kids made people soft. Scrooge was so different than he was just forty years earlier and sometimes she didn’t know what to make of it. If thirty-year-old Goldie knew he could be this way, maybe she would’ve approached their relationship differently. But he always spoke so harshly about children and family and she never could’ve imagined him changing his mind.

Her thoughts were cut off by a buzz and a ding! from her phone and Goldie huffed as she reached into her pocket to grab it. She hoped desperately that it wasn’t from someone work-related (though, really, who else could it be?). She wasn’t in the mood to think about hotel management. She’d rather drink wine and soak in the bathtub and think about nothing.

She glanced at her phone and saw a text message waiting for her. It was a short message from an unknown number that just said:

“Do you know how to text?”

Goldie blinked a few times at it and wondered briefly if this was a wrong number. Then she glanced at the area code and realized it was coming from Duckburg. She had a pretty good idea who it was and her heart skipped another beat.

There was an unspoken rule between her and Scrooge. He never reached out to her first (except for two very unique occasions). She was always the one to contact him. But Louie wasn’t Scrooge and Louie followed his own rules, apparently.

She took a moment to think before typing a short response. “Yes, I do.”

“Cool.”

She wondered if the conversation was over until she suddenly received an influx of emojis. Goldie raised an eyebrow at the group of ducks and dollar signs and bags of money and angry faces, not really sure what to make of it.

“What’s all this supposed to mean?”

She watched as her phone said he was typing and then not typing and then typing again.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Goldie let out a breathy laugh and rolled her eyes. He really was related to Scrooge.

“What’d you do with all the money? Put it in your very own Money Bin?”

She rolled onto her side and thought about whether or not to answer him. Though she couldn’t hide everything from Scrooge over the years, she did a good job of keeping most of her life hidden away from his wandering eyes. Though Louie was definitely great at keeping things from the adults in his life, he was still just a kid and she didn’t want anything slipping out accidentally.

“Not sure that’s any of your business.”

He started typing and then stopped again. Goldie stared at her phone for a full minute without getting a response before realizing she may have hurt his feelings a bit with that one. She groaned and dropped her phone back on the mattress. She didn’t want to care about something so trivial, but…

She sighed deeply and grabbed the phone again, quickly typing another message without giving it much thought.

“I have several places to put my earnings. A lot of different projects and business ventures. And the rest goes into savings.”

Goldie huffed at herself and put the phone down again. She’d managed to avoid this kind of thing easily with Donald or Della - keeping herself at a distance and never spending significant time with either of them without Scrooge. But just one afternoon alone with Sharpie and she felt an urge to protect his stupid little feelings and his stupid little face. There was something about seeing fear in those big ol’ eyes that made her heart beat faster.

Her phone beeped again and she hesitated for just a moment before grabbing it.

“What kind of business ventures? If you’re looking for investment opportunities, I could give you a pitch that even Scrooge McDuck hasn’t seen.”

She smiled and thought back to the posters on the wall of the boys’ bedroom; several of them were very juvenile business ideas that would never take off in the real world. But she could appreciate his sense of inventiveness.

“Even if you got Scrooge to sit for a meeting, I doubt he’d invest more than a dollar into anything.”

“You overestimate him! He wouldn’t give me more than a quarter.” Followed by several angry and sad and money bag emojis.

Goldie laughed and sat up in the hotel bed, feeling a little more like herself after having an opportunity to make fun of her...ex. Or whatever they were. It didn’t matter. She was having fun.

“Keep trying. I’m sure you’ll wear him down.”

He sent another group of emojis and Goldie decided that was the end of that. She put her phone back on the bed, screen side down, and turned to look over at the idol again. She definitely wouldn’t be giving it back.

--

Louie stared at his phone for a few minutes, wondering if he’d be getting another message. To be perfectly honest, he hadn’t expected any response at all, so the past ten minutes were giving him a lot of confusing, conflicting feelings.

He liked Goldie. She stole all his money and kind of broke his heart a little, but before that he’d started to think of her as family. It was hard to not think of her that way when she risked her life for his. But still...the money.

There was definitely no plan to contact her again when she left without even saying goodbye. Louie was frustrated and sad and annoyed and kept thinking about how he’d gotten too close. He knew when he first contacted her that this was a business decision - a con artist was not someone to befriend or trust or depend on. But in just a few short hours he felt a pull to her that he couldn’t really explain.

And he couldn’t stop thinking back to the way he’d felt when she suggested they work together again. He knew liars and thieves and knew she wasn’t an honest person, but he really felt like she meant it. And despite what happened afterwards and how angry he was for the next few days, Louie couldn’t help but wonder what that really meant for them.

She and Uncle Scrooge clearly weren’t getting back together anytime soon. And Goldie was a world traveler - always off on some new adventure somewhere far away. Even if they did work together again, it could be years away. Uncle Scrooge said sometimes he went years without hearing from her. 

Louie didn’t want to wait years. Goldie was the first person in a long time to appreciate his scheming mind without a hint of irony. It was refreshing and it made him feel better about the fact that she’d completely robbed him.

So he texted her. It was a long shot considering her age and the fact that she fumbled with her smartphone like someone who was still struggling to figure out how touch screens work, but Louie figured it was worth the attempt.

He looked at their messages again and smiled. Texting with a weird old thief lady was not exactly on his list of things he expected to be doing at the tender age of eleven, but it was kind of fun. She could tell him embarrassing stories about Uncle Scrooge or Uncle Donald or his mom. Maybe she knew other people in the family she could talk about.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Louie pressed his thumb down on her phone number and went to add a contact name. He stared at the screen for a few seconds before happily typing Aunt Goldie and hitting save.

He had to admit, it just kind of felt right.

[forthehpfanboys]

You're An Idiot

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Draco is being a brat.. Again. No one's surprised when you run into him after getting back late from Hogsmeade. Also, the reader is Hermione's older brother.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI). Just- get the holy water. Swearing, oral, Sassy Hermione?? Still doesn't follow the movies or the books or anything. If I forgot any, please dm me.

Note: Requested! And Bottom Draco-I was up all night typing this. God, I am so sorry for the grammar and crap when I first posted this. I fixed it up, so it should be better!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Being Hermione's older brother meant you usually had to deal with a lot of shit, especially since she'd drag you on adventures with the Golden Trio. She'd always use the promise you made to your parents in your face. Yeah. You had sworn you'd protect the younger Granger when she first started going to the school. At the time, you didn't know that'd mean every single bloody year.

Since you were a year older then the Golden Trio, you ended up resolving problems and fixing some of their mistakes and reminding them to sleep during particularly stressful days. You could've swore the four of you just attracted problems better than magnets attract metal. Of course, you wanted them to be safe and healthy, but one little bleached ferret always made it hard. That ferret, of course, was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

Stupid Draco Malfoy who always managed to look top notch in anything he wore and Godric what you'd do to get that ferret on his knees, ruin his pretty hair and- You probably shouldn't be thinking this in the dinner hall, especially since you were sitting next to your sister. Speaking of your sister, she turned to you, a smile on her face.

"So, (Y/n). I was curious if you wanted to come with us to Hogsmead this weekend? Harry got Sirius to sign for him and Professor Magonagall accepted it under the circumstances." Hermione's voice rang through your skull as she spoke, your head already nodding up and down. It'd be a nice little break, especially during your 7th year.

"Of course I'm down, Mione!" you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to her side. "You know I'll use any excuse to be with my favorite bunch of idiots." you messed up her hair, causing her to smack your hands away and almost shove you off the bench.

You let out a laugh, completely oblivious to the Slytherin staring at you from across the room with the most desperate expression on his face. You shoved your sister back, a smirk growing on your face as she fell from the bench.

"Haha! Payback!"

"Not funny, (Y/n)!"

"Yes it is, Mione! You should know by now I'm always gonna get revenge!" you ran a hand through your hair, shooting her a smile. The two boys who sat across from you nodded in agreement.

"He's right, Herman. (haha, reference-) It is pretty funny." Ron smiled, holding his fist out for you to bop.

The week seemed to pass with ease, allowing the weekend and it's snowy fun to arrive without hesitation. You trudged out in the snow, leading the trio of 6 years to Hogsmead. You hummed a muggle Christmas song deep in your throat as you walked, looking up at the snow covered signs.

"Where should we go first, children? Hogs Head? Honeydukes? What ya kids feeling?" One thing you absolutely ADORED was teasing about the age difference between you and the trio.

"We're not children!" Ron shouted, his arms crossing over his bulky winter jacket.

"Yeah! Besides, even if we weren't totally responsible adults, we'd wanna go to the Hogs Head, right guys? Get a butter bear or two?" Harry spoke up, moving his scarf down to speak properly before putting it back over his mouth and nose.

"Uh Huh. Sure." You snickered, your hands shoved in your pocket of your pants. You'd given Hermione your jumper, leaving you in a scarf, fingerless gloves and your long sleeve t-shirt.

The four of you got interrupted by a line of people literally blocking your path. It was none other than the stupidly pretty Draco and his 'gang' stood in front of you, arms crossed like a bunch of wanna be badasses.

"Well, well, if it isn't Potter and his 3 little blood traitors." Draco spoke, his voice filled with smugness and his face dragged in a cocky smirk.

God, did you wanna get revenge against that stupid smirk.

"Oh, please Malfoy. You do this almost every week. Just admit you have a crush on Harry and move on." You spoke, taking a step toward him. The ferret's smirk faltered and turned into a scowl.

"Oh please. As if I'd stoop low enough to like someone like Potter." Draco all but gagged at the idea of dating the messy haired rival and you wondered what he'd look like gagging on your stick. It suddenly became a little warmer in the winter atmosphere.

"Then you have an unhealthy obsession, mate." Ron spoke up, his arms crossed. "Might wanna get that fixed and leave us be."

"Yeah, Malfoy. We're trying to have a good day and you're ruining it with your ugly mug." Hermione spoke up, causing you to feel nothing but pure pride. She'd changed a lot from the shy girl she used to be in 1st year.

Crabb or Goyle, you didn't care to learn their names, stepped forward, causing you to instinctively step in front of your friends. Malfoy scoffed again, looking you up and down before turning his head.

"Whatever." the blonde pureblood spoke as he began walking away, his posse turning to follow, but not without shooting you one last glare.

"Yeah, you... You better leave?" You spoke, confusion clear in your voice. Usually you'd be inches from his face, shouting about the shit antics his father pulled before he backed down. Turning to the other three, you shrugged and led them to Hogsmead, hoping to escape the cold.

Once inside, you all ordered a warm glass of butterbeer as you picked a table by the fireplace. Taking your first sip immediately warmed you up, a sigh leaving your lips.

"Godric Gryffindor. I haven't felt warmth in what felt like forever." You said cooly, smirking to your sister. "I wonder why I would be oh, so cold."

"Ok. We get it. I forgot my jacket. Stop it." The brunette responded, causing Harry to almost choke on his drink and for Ron to snort. You faked a gasp, your hand going to your chest in mock shame. You'd been teasing her about it almost the entire way there.

"Such sass!" You shook your head. "What would mom and dad say?"

"They'd say you deserve to shove it."

"Oh, come now, sister of mine! Don't be a stick in the mud!"

The two friends sitting across from the Granger siblings sat in silence. This was some of the best entertainment they get during the week and they always savored it.

"I'm not being a stick in the mud, you're just being a dick."

"Well you know what they say. You are what you eat-"

Ron and Harry didn't even miss a beat. They broke out laughing together as Hermione shouted, her face a pinkish color.

"(Y/N)!!"

"What? We all know it's true!"

"Merlin's beard you suck."

"That's the point, sis."

"Go- stop. Please. I'm begging you."

"Ok! Ok." you chuckled out, raising your hands in defeat.

You and the trio managed to keep up the conversation easily, but as time went on, it was time to go back, well, that's what you told them. It was time for the kiddos to go back and finish their homework so they had tomorrow to actually relax. Of course, this caused Harry and Ron to groan and whine, but Hermione finally convinced them, saying she'd help.

You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair, your eyes falling closed. The stupid blonde hottie has been raging in your head for what felt like forever, so you weren't surprised when he popped up behind your eyelids again.

You truly didn't want to admit it, but you'd liked the jerk since he popped up randomly in your second year. He was a twat to your sister and her friends, but somehow he slithered into your heart and head all the stupid time.

Over time like turned to crush, crush turned to yearned, yearned turned to lust, because it certainly wasn't love. That's what you convinced yourself as you tossed your head back, swallowing the last of your fourth butterbeer.

You sat in front of the fire for a few more minutes before you stood up, placed some coins at the end of your table to pay for the drinks and left the restaurant, venturing out into the snow.

It was colder before, thanks to the sun setting over the castle. Shrugging off the cold, you walked down the familiar path back to Hogwarts. You tightened the scarf around your face as a particularly cold breeze blew past you. Once the entrance of the castle came up, you all but jogged to the door, ripping it open. The inside was warmer, thank Merlin.

You were suddenly grateful for the 7 years you'd spent at Hogwarts. You were able to mindlessly walk the halls and make it to the staircase leading up to the Fat Lady's portrait. As you were trudging up the steps, you noticed a A flash of a shadow duck past a knight.

"Oh, ok. Cool. Filch’ll just kill me. Awesome." you grumbled, hurrying up the stairs as quietly as you could, but we're quickly halted. The shadow wasn't Filch or his crazed cat. It was Malfoy.

Of course it was Malfoy. We gotta get to the good stuff somehow, right?

...

Anyway, you sensed he was up to no good considering he should be in the Slytherin Common Room probably sleeping and not sneaking around by the Gryffindor one. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching the blonde keeping his head turned to watch his back as he climbed the same steps you were on.

"Malfoy."

"AAH-"

You all but lunged to cover his mouth with one hand, the other going to the back of his neck to keep him still. "Shut it, you git! Do you want to get caught?" your eyebrows furrowed together as you pressed him to the stairs railing, trying to intimidate the younger male.

What you didn't know was that this was waayy to hot for Malfoy to comprehend. His back went rigid at your touch and his breathing all but stopped as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

"Well, do you?"

Your hushed voice snapped Draco out of his trance, causing him to shake his head.

"Good, then keep your voice down. What are you doing out here anyway?" you spoke, moving your hands away from him, much to his dismay. He was just grateful you didn't back away. He liked your body against his.

"I was uh-well, I was trying to.. Find the bathroom." He usually kept his composure, but he was failing miserably. He usually kept it together so well but now.. Now Draco was struggling. He was not going to admit he was on his way to sneak into the Gryffindor common room and leave you a love note. No. Why would he do that??

"The bathroom? It isn't up this set of stairs, ya idiot." you grabbed his arm, leading him down the stairs. "Besides, you should have a bathroom on your side of the school, so what are you really doing here?"

"What does it matter?" he spat out. "You obviously think you know everything." you rolled your eyes at his brattiness and walked over to the corridor glancing down it before pressing your back against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Shut it Malf-"

"No. I don't ha-"

"I said shut it or I will gag your mouth with your own fucking tie." you covered his mouth again, pressing him back against the wall. "Godric. Just put your ego away for 2 seconds."

Draco desperately wanted to say 'Make me, Granger' but he was lost in the idea of your threat coming true.

Satisfied at his silence, you watched one of the patrolling professors walk down the corridor and right past you two. Not spotting anyone or anything, they continued on before you swept him down the entrance.

"Ok. Come on." You whispered to him as you walked down the corridor. You were taking him to that one girls bathroom that no one goes into, ya know, with Myrtle. You were just hoping she was gonna be literally anywhere but that bathroom.

"Where are we going?"

"You said you wanted a bathroom, idiot. I'm taking you to one where you can piss in peace and leave me alone."

"I.. What?"

"Forget it, Malfoy." You took one more turn and finally saw the opening off the bathroom. "Ok. We're here." Of course Blondie had a problem though. He shot the (h/c) male a glare before scrunching up his nose.

"This is the girls lavatory."

"Oh, you think I care. Funny." you grabbed him by the shirt covering his shoulder and pushed him inside, following after his stumbling form.

"Don't touch me, Granger. I don't want whatever germs mud bloods carry." Draco scoffed, fixing his shirt and brushing off his shoulder, as if dirt was there.

"Call me that again and I won't hesitate to ruin that pretty face you cherish so much." You growled out, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling him toward you. "One day that silver tongue of ours is going to get you in a lot of trouble." Pushing him away from your figure, you turned toward one of the many mirrors lining the wall.

You looked at your reflection and fixed a strand of hair, then took off your scarf. It was warm in this bathroom. You folded the scarf and looked back into the reflective glass to see Malfoy smirking in the background.

"What?"

"You called me pretty." He had his arms crossed over his chest. Your aggravated tone did nothing to his smirk.

".. You're dumb as hell, ya know that?" you turned to face the male and his confidence seemed to shrink a little bit. You advanced toward him and he stepped backwards. He wanted to keep distance between you two in case a fight broke out. He'd seen you fight other people bigger than you and remembered how they were sent to the Hospital wing. "You're a twat. You're a self centered brat who thinks he rules this school."

He gulped when he felt his back press against the wall. "Yeah? And what are you going to do about it Granger?" Draco could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. You must've noticed his face turning Gryffindor red because next thing he knew, you were pressed up against him, pinning him to the wall. He felt his breath catch in his throat when your eyes glanced at his lips for a brief second.

"I might teach you a lesson." Your hands came at either side of his head, a dangerous smirk drawing across your lips. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his. "You have been such a brat lately. A punishment is in order, hmm?"

Draco's hands tried to grip the wall, his nails scraping against it. Fuck, the way your voice dropped sent blood from his cheeks to his dick almost immediately.

With that, you slammed your lips to his, causing a breathy whine to escape Draco's throat. You tilted your head, your tongue grazing across his lips as your hand slipped through his hair. The blonde wrapped his arms around your neck as he opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours. With teeth clashing, your bodies pressed together and a hand in his hair, you easily gained dominance.

You pulled from the kiss, causing Malfoy to let out a protest.

"Shut it, brat." You grumbled, a hand covering his mouth as you planted a kiss to the side of his neck. "Besides, we're out past curfew. Would hate to get caught."

He could feel you smirk against his skin, your hand in his bleached locks tugging his head to the side so you had more room. He jumped a little when he felt you bite down on his neck. The younger man's eyes fell shut as you attacked his neck with love bites and hickeys.

Your hand covering his mouth moved to his cheek as you placed a kiss on a particularly big hickey.

"You ok?" your voice was soft and sweet against his ear. He nodded quickly, not wanting this to end, which only caused you to snicker. Draco blinked a few times in confusion when you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to push him down to his knees.

"I'd rather not kneel on the floor."

"Why not?"

"It's filthy!"

You stared at Draco for a few seconds before rolling your eyes and you shoved him down to his knees.

"I don't care if it's filthy. You have magic, don't you? Clean your knees when we're done. Simple." you smirked down at him, joy filling your heart. God, it genuinely felt good to see the cocky pureblood on his knees, his head turned in a silent protest.

One hand stayed on his shoulder, the other moved itself to the bulge between your legs. The groan that left your lips caught his attention. The hand against your bulge grounded down, causing you to groan.

"Oh, now I've got your attention?"

"Shove it, Granger."

"Now, now. That's no way to talk to me, I am older."

Draco rolled his eyes so hard you were sure they were gonna roll straight out of his head. But since this whole event was anything but straight, you figured it wouldn't happen that easily.

The man on his knees swatted your hand away and wasted zero time unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down around your knees. He stared at the bulge in your galaxy themed boxers, the tips of his ears turning a bright pink. He noticed the damp spot right by the tip and realized it was from him.

Suddenly, his confidence came back, and the blonde quickly began mouthing at your erection. With a rough groan, you rested your hand on top of his head and used the other stabilizing you against the wall.

"Go on, then. Don't be shy." You chuckled, gently ruffling his hair. The 6th year reached up, quickly pulling down your boxers to reveal your hard length.

"I'm not shy." When he finally met your eyes, you noticed his blue ones burning with a lust that you'd only wished to see in your dreams.

"Uh huh, then why aren't you sucking my dick, hmm?" You smirked, pushing your hips forward.

"I might bite it with the attitude you hold." The blonde spoke as he leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip in one, long swipe. You let out a sigh, your head slowly tipping backwards as his tongue grazed over the tip of your wood.

"You love my attitude. I bet you always have."

Draco wanted to mock you or laugh at you or something, but he knew you were right so instead, he sucked on your tip like it was a popsickle. He hallowed his cheeks and kept eye contact with you as he slowly took you into his mouth.

You let out a gasp at how hot it was. Visually and physically, it was so damn hot. Your grip tightened on his hair when his tongue ran along the vein on the bottom.

"Fuck- Ah, Draco-" You tried not to move your hips. After all, you didn't know how much experience he had, but it felt like he was pretty well off.

Draco, however, was focused on the way you said his name. It dragged a moan out of him. This might've been the first time he heard you say his first name and your gravely voice made it so wonderful.

The blonde on his knees suddenly wanted to hear you say it again. He closed his eyes, pulling back to take a breath before he pushed forward. The pureblood focused on trying to take you down his throat. His eyebrows furrowed together when he gagged and chose to ignore his tears.

"Oh shit!" you hissed out, your jaw dropping when you felt his nose press against your pelvis. "Draco, how the hell-?" you bucked forward when you felt him try to swallow around you. "Ooh, Godric!" you tossed your head back, your hand against the wall curling into a fist.

Draco pulled back and slowly went down on you again, a breathy whine leaving your throat.

"You are far too good at this, baby."

All too soon he was pulling off you completely, which causes you to whine and look down at him. He was looking down at his hands that rested in his lap.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" You asked, your head tilting to the side a little bit.

"No!" his head shot up to look at you, his eyes wide. "I mean.. No... No, I've just never been called something so.. Soft."

This caused your eyebrows to furrow together. "Huh. Well, let's change that. Come on." You stepped out of the pants pooled at your feet and held a hand out to him, which he took.

You gently led him over to the sinks, turning him around to face his reflection. "I got you." you whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder.

He nodded his head, looking down at the sink in front of him. The pureblood rested his hands against the porcelain. The 6th year's heart was pounding in his ears, his bottom lip becoming trapped between his teeth.

The blonde felt your hands run from the back of his neck, to his shoulders and down his back before finally landing on his hips. The wizard felt a heat pooling in his belly when he felt your hips press against his ass.

You reached around to his front, undoing his belt and slowly pulling it free from the loops before tossing it off to the side. He finally looked up at the mirror, taking in the reflection of his messy hair, swollen lips and your hands coming back to his front.

"I got you, Draco." Your voice was soft. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything." You smiled at him over his shoulder and winked before popping the button of his trousers open and allowed gravity to pull them down.

Malfoy gasped when you cupped his bulge, his hips automatically pushing forward. He'd been hard since you pinned him against the railing.

"(Y/n).." he whispered out, his mouth falling open when your thumb ran across the head of his cock.

"Yes, babe?" Your smile has turned into a knowing smirk. Blue eyes bounced between your hand and that devious smirk, Draco's brain conflicted on which sight was better. "Do you need something?"

He nodded his head, blonde locks bouncing.

"Please." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Please? Please what?" Your fingers slipped past the elastic of his boxers, a false sense of innocence laced in your voice.

"Move- touch me- damnit, Granger, please."

You finally pushed his boxers down, your hands running along the front of his thighs before finally landing on what he wanted you to focus on. The blonde let out a sigh of your name when your hand finally wrapped around his dick.

A small smile stretched across his face once your hand started moving. The pleasure wasn't new, but was oh so welcomed. He was glad he finally got you.

You gave him a few pumps, allowing his precum to build up on your hand, making everything easier.

"There ya go, baby. So sweet." You whispered, kissing the back of his ear.

Draco brought a pale pink lip between pearly white teeth again, his hips pushing forward to get more.

The hand still resting on his hip came around to the front, gathered a bit of precum off the tip before slinking back around to the back. He used the pre like lube and pushed a finger into Draco's tight hole, causing him to emit a squeal and arch his back a little but.

"Oh, Godric. I'm so excited to wreck you, baby."

"(Y/n)!" he squeaked out as the finger went deeper. He bit his lip harder, the pain slowly dying out and being replaced with a burning pleasure.

You loved hearing your name being moaned like that, just like he enjoyed hearing his when he was suckin' on your lolli. You added a second finger, slowly thrusting them in and out to try and speed this along. You could only jerk someone off for so long anyway.

You licked your lips, a determined expression event on how badly you wanted him. Maybe eating his ass would've been more effective.

"Please hurry, I don't know how much more of this I can take-" his voice was higher in pitch, his hips pushing back against you. "Please-"

"Ok, baby, ok. No need to beg." you chuckled, removing your hands from their working positions. Gently rubbing your hand over one cheek, you spread it open enough to spit in it, just to be safe. "Ready?" your free hand grabbed your own dick pumping it a few times for good measure.

"I wouldn't be asking you to do it if I wasn't, now would I?" the blonde snapped back, glaring over his shoulder. How did he go from so innocent he's almost choking from one finger in him to being a demanding brat all over again?

You rolled your eyes and lined yourself up, carefully and slowly pushing in until you made it past the first ring of muscle. Both of you moaned at the feeling, your hands coming to rest against his hips as his head ducked down, his chin pressed against his chest.

You slowly pushed in deeper, a whine leaving his throat as the twisted pain came back. You reached around to grab his dick again and jerked him off a little bit more to try and counterbalance the pain.

Once you were all the way in, you just let him adjust. You kissed across his still clothed shoulders and neck, whispering encouraging words of praise.

The hand on his hip dragged itself upward, your eyes following it in the mirror. Once it made it to his chest, you cupped one of his pecs through the shirt, feeling his perky nipple pressing against your palm.

Grinding your palm down against his nipple and continuing to rub his dick, you slowly pulled out almost all the way before pushing back in with one sweep.

You literally left him breathless. He was staring at you through the reflection in the mirror, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed over with need, his hair a mess.

You built up a pave easily, deep and hard but slow and Draco loved every second of it. His toes curled in his boots, his back arched into your hands while his hips fought to figure out if they wanted to go forward into your hand or back into your dick. It truly was a conundrum for the twink.

"Such a good boy for me, aren't ya?" You spoke up after a while, your voice gravelly and rough and right in his ear. You let out a breathy laugh when he shuddered and moaned from that alone.

The two of you weren't concerned with the sound of skin hitting skin or your moans echoing around the hallow bathroom. You were busy, I don't blame you.

Soon enough, Draco was begging you to speed up, his release starting to creep it's way around. You nodded your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you spend your hips up, a grunt leaving your lips.

Draco let out a loud whine when your fingers pinched one of his nipples, his hands clawing at the walls as pleasure coursed through his veins.

"I'm gonna cum in you." You groaned against his back. "I'm gonna mark you as mine and you're gonna sit there and enjoy it."

Fuck yeah, he was.

Draco was nowhere near complaining. He'd been fantasizing of this and so much more for years. He, of course, blamed his hormones, but he knew the effect ran deeper than just lust.

Draco nodded his head. "Please-" he moaned out your name, his thighs trembling from the pleasure. He was getting closer and, honestly, so where you.

The pureblood was so warm and hugged you so right in all the right places and Albus mother-fucking Dumbledore where you getting more of this later.

This stupid cute blonde was so intoxicating it almost made you feel pathetic. Keyword is almost.

You sped up, chasing after your own release as it also reared its head around the corner.

"G-gonna cum-" Draco stuttered out, his voice cracking. One hand fell from the wall to the porcelain sink at his waist. "I-I'm.. Gonna-" he called out your name, loud enough for it to probably be heard by the Gryffindors, as he came.

He tightened and spasmed around you, his legs shaking and tiny moans leaving his throat as you helped him ride out his orgasm.

"Are you good?" You asked, rubbing his back and soon letting go of his soft dick when he deemed it was sensitive. "Do you want me to pull out?"

Draco shook his head, his ears noticeably red from behind him. "I want you to keep your promise."

He did not have to tell you twice. You went back to thrusting into him, both hands on his waist as you sought after your own orgasm. A few moans and groans from you later and you were cumming inside him.

You leaned into him, riding it out until his tight, hot ass became too much. You pulled out carefully, causing him to whine and twitch.

"Let's get you cleaned up, ok, Draco?"

The blonde nodded his head and allowed you to carefully and gently clean him up with a wet paper towel. It wasn't the lost romantic thing used to clean partners, but it was what you had.

After a few minutes of silence once you were cleaned and dressed you spoke up.

"So what.. Where are you doing by Gryffindor Tower, Blondie?" your hands ended up in your pockets again.

"Well I.." The pureblood reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out an envelope. "I was going to..."

"Draco, babe. I saw your 'o' face. Just tell me. You shouldn't be embarrassed." You snickered, obviously teasing the younger man.

He took in a deep breath and shoved the letter toward you.

"IwroteyoualetterexplaininghowIfeltaboutyouandhowIwassorryforhowItreatedyoursister-" he was going way too fast for you to understand anything.

"What? I can't.. I don't speak whatever this is."

"I.. Just read the letter!"

With that, you tore open the envelope. It was the love letter Draco was gonna leave by your bedside table.

The letter stated how he fell in love with you from a far over the years by watching you dominate in Quidditch, bringing light into the world with the Twins (let's be honest, imma throw them in this) and just.. Being you. Plus bickering with you was one of his favorite pastimes.

It also stated how he was sorry for treating Hermione so poorly and the citation with his dad and how he was raised.

The Slytherin was nervously wringing his hands together, a nervous expression on his face. "Umm.. Are.. You gonna say something?" his mental fingers were crossed.

You smiled, tilting your head a little bit.

"You're an idiot." You pulled him into a gentle kiss, your hand entangling with his. You casted him a genuine smile. "I like you too, Draco."

The blonde's face broke out in a matching grin and he all but jumped on you to give you another kiss. Once the two of you broke apart, your voice echoed in the bathroom once again.

"There's only one problem."

"What is it?"

"How do we tell Hermione?"

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 5

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon except for a few random points mentioned this time. It’s mainly fluff, lemon zest 🍋 and a bit of angst. There’s also some Billy POV in there. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

A grin curved his lips upwards, “How d’you like your eggs in the mornin’, ma’am?”

“Over easy,” you grinned back. He tapped his shoulder a couple of times with the kitchen spoon, “Ummm.. how about scrambled? And then I’ll give you the “over easy” version afterwards.”

That damn smirk of his, you thought, it’s downright dangerous.

The two of you were sitting at your kitchen island, eating breakfast. The scrambled eggs were really tasty, you complimented him. He’d preened a little, “I’m quite a good cook, sweetheart,” he said, “learned how to look after myself quite early on in life.”

Suddenly he put his fork down, and looked over at you. His face was serious, and you saw some sadness in his eyes. “My mother abandoned me when I was a really young kid. She was a junkie, and couldn’t look after herself never mind me, so I suppose I should thank her. I’d probably be dead otherwise. Got put in a group home, stayed there until I aged out and went straight into the Marines. And got my degree on the government’s dime.”

Your hand moved to cover his, “Billy, you’ve done so well, and you’ve achieved it all on your own. I’m proud of you, and I hope you’re proud of yourself too.” He beamed at you, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Yeah... yeah, I am. Thanks, angel, I appreciate you sayin’ that. I wanted to tell you about it, wanted to be honest with you. In case when you saw the suits, the car, the penthouse and all, you thought I was some kind of privileged trust fund kid.”

He looked down, “There’s a stigma about growin’ up in the system, y’know? I wanted to get it out on the table so you know who I really am and where I came from.”

“I don’t care about that, Billy.” He nodded, thumb stroking your hand which was still on top of his. “I really hoped that you wouldn’t ... but I wanted to be sure, and I’m really glad you feel like that. Also I needed you to know that I’m bein’ honest with you.”

You thought you saw a closed-off look on his face for a moment, but then it was gone and he smiled over at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You had spent the rest of Sunday together, lazing around, watching various shows on Netflix before venturing out for a late lunch to a local diner. Billy had eventually headed home after another steamy session in the bedroom, regretful about not spending the night, sighing that he had a really early start in the morning, a ‘job’ he couldn’t tell you anything about.

He’d explained a bit more about his work earlier in the day while you were eating in the diner. How a lot of it was classified as it was military or political in nature, so he couldn’t go into detail. You’d nodded, and said you understood. But you’d asked some questions nevertheless; how many of the assignments did he go on himself, just how dangerous they were, had he or his men ever been injured.

You got the impression that, although he couldn’t tell you much about who was involved or why they needed protection details, he was pleased you were showing an interest in his work.

The two of you agreed that you’d meet up during the week, Billy saying he’d text you to confirm when and where as he wasn’t sure how long this job would last, maybe at least a couple of days.

He’d insisted on putting his numbers into your phone himself, so you’d unlocked it and handed it to him, wandering back to your bedroom to put some more clothes on. Shortly afterwards he’d kissed you long and hard and made his way downstairs to his car, and you’d watched from your balcony as he drove away. Then you’d laughed at yourself - you were acting like some medieval damsel watching her knight disappear off to war or something.

Sliding the glass door closed, you went to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. The apartment suddenly felt very empty without Billy in it. How quickly you’d got used to him being there.

You wandered across to the sofa with your newly-poured glass of wine, noticing your phone on the coffee table. Oh yeah, Billy had added his numbers. A sudden twinge of insecurity hit you. What if he hadn’t actually put his direct numbers in there, and just pretended to? You sat down, looking at it lying there. I mean, it wasn’t like you couldn’t track him down at Anvil, but you would no doubt have to go through a receptionist and you could be endlessly stone-walled.

You eventually picked up the phone and unlocked it. Scrolling to your contacts, you suddenly burst out laughing. Billy had put his numbers in there and had also taken a selfie, him smouldering into the camera. He’d attached it to the contact details with a description.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy drove away from her apartment, truly wishing he could’ve stayed over again.

But then he’d shaken his head slightly, laughing to himself; she’d definitely got one thing right - he was a big sap. Since when did he find himself almost playing house with a woman? Telling her she was his girlfriend - as she’d put it - after five minutes? He was a one-and-done kinda guy!

But then Billy Russo admitted to himself that something had hit him smack in the heart when he’d first seen her, sitting there looking stunning and somehow fragile with that creep trying to come onto her. Well turns out she wasn’t fragile in the least! However when those beautiful eyes had met his... well, he was a goner. Solid gone. And then he’d pursued her like a lovestruck idiot.

He hadn’t ever seriously thought about love. Or believed in it, for that matter. Certainly not when he’d been bedding all those women when he’d been on leave or since he’d left the Marines. All that shit just wasn’t for him. And now? Yeah, not so sure.

Billy almost felt like he was under some kind of spell, it had hit him so quickly. Yeah, like she’d enchanted him or something ridiculous, straight out of a Disney or Harry Potter movie. Was this love, then? His stomach clenched every time he saw her, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanted to be with her all the time, hell he was even jealous of Jake though he wasn’t a threat. Was he? No, surely not. And what about Steve, the other one? Yeah, there he was doing it again - unreasonable jealousy.

And when they’d first slept together, he felt like he’d finally understood what making love meant.

Billy Russo, who until a few days ago had spent most of his leisure time in life actively fucking women - how he’d always described it to himself and others - was now a confirmed big sap. He chuckled to himself.

He suddenly remembered ripping the shit out of a young Marine in his squad who’d come back off leave totally besotted with some girl. The kid had confessed (stupid move) to all the guys that they’d made love, a distant and dreamy look in his eyes. At the time, Billy had scoffed at him and endlessly humiliated him about it. In an affectionate way of course, he told himself.

But he felt guilty about that. Who’s the one with the distant and dreamy gaze now, Russo?

In all truth, Billy felt like he was having some kind of out of body experience. As if Previous Billy Russo was looking down in horror at his new self, yelling at him to get his fucking head back on straight. But New Billy Russo wasn’t listening because, well because he realised he liked feeling this way.

And he thought that she felt the same. He knew she was fighting it and wouldn’t admit anything to him, but there were little tells that had given her away. He decided he’d stay on his best behaviour, just keep trying to win her over, and he felt in his bones that they would be together.

But he did feel a sting of guilt. He had been honest with her, but he’d also been selective with what he’d told her about Anvil, how it all started, and this ongoing shit he and Frank were still embroiled in. One day... one day, and hopefully soon, he could tell her absolutely everything.

His phone, clipped to the dash, vibrated.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the caller ID, hit the button and answered it.

“Dinah... what can I do for you?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You, meanwhile, had just finished your second glass of wine and were admitting to yourself that you were really missing Billy. Oh this is bad, your brain yelled at you, very bad. You’d only known this guy for a few days and you were falling for him. Or - okay - had already fallen for him. It scared you, quite honestly.

He was charming, funny, handsome, sexy. An amazing lover. He’d been disarmingly honest with you about his past, but... but what? Why was there a ‘but’? Because there was something niggling at the back of your mind. Just a couple of expressions you’d seen on his face, quickly gone. An indication of more happening just underneath the surface than you knew about. Billy had a distinct air of danger about him, and you wondered what else was going on inside that dark head of his.

You’d fallen for him, yes... but you were also going to remain wary of him, until you were certain you knew everything you could about him.

Reaching over and pulling your laptop towards you across the coffee table, you typed Billy’s name into Google.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning, Billy parked his car and walked into Anvil. His reception staff wished him a respectful Good Morning, he nodded to them and headed upstairs to his office. Frank was already there, reading a newspaper.

“Mornin’ Bill,” he said, looking up. “Frankie,” nodded Billy, “want a coffee?” and kept on walking towards the coffee machine in the corner. “Nah, just had one, thanks.”

He poured out an Americano for himself, then chuckled loudly. Frank quirked an eyebrow at him, and Billy shrugged back. “I met someone last week. She owns two cafés, and she’s a coffee snob. Gonna refine my palate, she said.”

Frank looked back down to his paper before commenting, “I’m impressed you know that much about her, Bill. Didn’t think you bothered cos you usually cut & run.” Billy smirked, knowing he couldn’t dispute what Frank had just said, but he was going to enjoy the next slice of the conversation. Even just to see the expression on Frank’s face.

“I....like her. A lot. I want something with her.” “Something?” Frank chortled, “...you mean, like a relationship, Bill?” He looked closely at Billy, saw the shit-eating grin he had on his face and his jaw dropped. “You do, don’t you?! Fuckin’ hell! Never thought I’d see the day, Russo.” Billy burst out laughing.

“Well, that makes two of us, Frankie. But...” he spread his hands out to either side of him, “...it is what it is. And I’ll fill you in on all the details later. Now, this thing with Madani and Homeland - let’s get it nailed down.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

That same morning, you sat at your desk and slowly twirled from side to side in your chair. You sipped your cappuccino, and thought about Billy.

Little cousin had done you a favour this time and earlier on had delved into her company’s database, digging out some further information on Billy and Anvil which Google couldn’t provide you with. All it had given you was the bare minimum of the company’s founding date and numerous photos of Billy looking hot in his designer suits.

She told you she’d heard of him, and had also seen him at several events similar to the one you’d attended. You’d admitted you were seeing him, and she’d firstly screeched down the phone at you, nearly bursting your eardrum, before saying, “Now see, if you hadn’t gone in my place you wouldn’t have met him!” “Yeah, yeah, alright. Tell me what you’ve got for me.”

In a more serious tone, she said, “Just be careful though, his company seems a little... well, shady let’s just say. I mean, in the security business,” her voice lowered, “there’s usually some dodgy dealings or other going on. But him and his colleagues seem to have got themselves in some deep water with two federal agencies. I’ll email this stuff to you now and you’ll see what I mean.” You thanked her and hung up before she could tell you that now you owed her another favour.

You’d read through the attachments she’d sent you, and your eyes had got wide as you read that Billy and Anvil had originally been funded by a shadowy CIA guy, who’d then been killed in a gun battle between un-named protagonists. You sussed out that Anvil must’ve been one of those involved, as Billy and his friend Frank had been arrested and interrogated by Homeland Security before being released without charge. That struck you as a bit odd, but there were no more details available.

Your phone had chosen that moment to buzz with a FaceTime call from the man himself. You’d hesitated then accepted the call, and Billy’s handsome face popped up in front of you, with a wide smile plastered on it. You could see he was in his car. “Mornin’, sweetheart,” he said in a low sexy voice, and you felt your stomach tighten with excitement. This guy... the effect he had on you....!

You’d smiled and replied, “Morning, Billy.” He tilted his head towards you, dark eyes drawing you in, “Missin’ me? Because I’m missing you.” Shaking your head, smirking, you said, “We only saw each other a few hours ago so no, I’m not.” A cheeky grin from him this time, “Don’t believe you, angel, I think you can’t wait to see me again.” “You’re such a cocky bastard, Billy,” you laughed, “Why are you calling, exactly?”

His smile was a genuine one as he said, “I just wanted to see you before I head off to this job. Not sure when I’ll be able to call next. Remember - I’ll let you know as soon as I can when we can meet up this week.” You nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” He blew you a kiss, saying “Bye, angel,” before he rang off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

One of your friends had called shortly afterwards to ask if you wanted to meet up for lunch, as you hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Deciding that you could do with some girl time, you arranged to meet her in a steak house near the Chrysler Building, and then decided you’d better get some work done before you headed out for your long lunch hour.

The two of you had met up just outside the restaurant and had gone in chatting away to each other. Being shown to your table, you sat down only to spot Billy Russo walking in behind a small dark-haired woman. Your mouth dropped open, and your eyes took in every detail of her. She was pretty, with big dark eyes, olive skin and wavy hair in a shoulder-length bob. Billy, you noted, had his hand on her lower back, guiding her to their table, just as he had with you when you went for your first drink with him.

You leant forward to your friend, “I’m so sorry about this but we’re gonna have to go somewhere else.” She looked concerned, “What’s wrong?” “Someone I need to avoid just came in,” you explained, “c’mon, I’ll tell them I’ve had an emergency at work or something.” You both stood up, and you fled from the restaurant before you repeated your actions at that house party, which had got you arrested. You didn’t want to end up in jail this time just because of that jerk and his little lady.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy looked up as two women who’d been sitting near him stood up and started rushing towards the door. Weird, he thought, they hadn’t even been served judging by the menus still laying on their place settings. He looked back at them, and one of them turned back briefly to her friend behind her as they exited the premises.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It was her. His angel. Oh fuck! Did she..? Yes, she must’ve seen him and... he glanced at Madani across the table from him, reading through the menu choices. She glanced up, smirking at Billy but it quickly dropped off her face, when she saw the expression on his.

“Billy?” she said, but he’d dumped his napkin onto his plate by now and was standing up.

“Sorry, Dinah... I gotta go.” An annoyed look on her face, she growled, “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I... there’s someone I gotta catch up with, and I just saw them leaving.” He walked away from their table, and towards the door of the restaurant. As he did so he heard Madani say in a harsh voice, “Is it a woman, Russo?” but ignored her.

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23

[headcanonsandmore]

“Fell In Love With A Girl”, Chapter Four

Summary:  After Luna's shocking kidnap at the hotel, Ginny is desperate to save her girlfriend. But how will they find Luna in a place as large as the Amazon Delta?

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Tagging: @cheeseanonioncrisps @lytefoot

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                   Read on FFN.                                             Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny was gently led downstairs by Tonks, and sank into a chair.

Her eyes were all red and irritated from the tears she had cried. She felt exhausted, but she couldn’t focus on it. All she felt was terror for Luna.

Kidnapped. In the clutches of the crime syndicate they had been trying to stop.

‘Kid?’

Ginny turned. Sam had placed a hand on her shoulder.

‘Y-yeah?’

‘We’re gonna get her back,’ he said, gruffly. She could tell he wasn’t good with handling emotions, but she appreciated the effort. ‘Those bastards aren’t gonna know what hit them.’

Ginny smiled, despite her tears.

‘T-thanks, Sam.’

The scarred man shrugged.

‘We’ve got a DNA match.’

Ginny’s head whipped round to the side. Remus was stood by a computer across the room.

‘From the bedroom upstairs, you mean?’ Sam asked.

‘Yeah; forensics just got back to us,’ Remus replied, tapping the computer screen. ‘A fragment of skin was left on the windowsill. It matches a low-level criminal who we suspected of being a member of the crime syndicate. Now we’ve got proof.’

At that moment, Tonks burst into the room.

‘Found this in Luna and Ginny’s room,’ she said, holding a book aloft. ‘Thought it might be of use.’

‘T-that’s… that’s Luna’s journal’ Ginny mumbled. ‘It’s…’

She trailed off, before grabbing the book from Tonks and slamming in down on the table and riffling through the pages.

‘Ginny?’ Tonks asked. ‘What is it?’

‘The newest pages are missing,’ Ginny said, pointing at the frayed bits of paper sticking out at odd angles. ‘Luna must have been writing ideas down.’

‘Ideas like…’

‘Amazonian Octarine-Flame,’ Ginny said, her mind connecting the dots. ‘It has variations that grow both above ground and in underground cave systems. The syndicate were obsessed with it, which means that they couldn’t find it in the rainforest. But Luna must have known where it grows; why else would they wait until I left before grabbing her? They need her knowledge.’

‘And kill two birds with one stone,’ Tonks finished. ‘Try to scare us off, and get the Octarine-Flame.’

Sam smiled.

‘You’re good, kid. So, where do we go?’

Ginny’s enthusiasm suddenly vanished; she didn’t know. Luna hadn’t told her where the plant was.

However, her eyes then landed on the map.

‘Oh, it’s where all those reports were coming from!’ She exclaimed. ‘No wonder the locals noticed something was up; the syndicate have been combing that area the whole time! They just need an expert to pinpoint the exact location of that plant!’

Remus nodded.

‘That would also explain why this area seems to be such a target; the network of underground caves stretch out for miles underneath the rainforest. I’m surprised they didn’t just force one of the locals to show them where the plant was.’

Sam chuckled, darkly.

‘Knowing this lot, I imagine they probably didn’t think the locals knew. Typical colonialist nonsense.’

Tonks nodded.

‘The syndicates base must be in that area too,’ Remus said, typing frantically into the computer. ‘They’ve likely got a base of operations close to where the plants are. Somewhere far away from the government authorities.’

‘That’s the problem with these syndicates,’ Sam said, giving a wry grin. ‘They always think that setting up operations in the middle of nowhere will keep them out of attention. But all it does is send up a flare of exactly where they are!’

‘You can hide a bee in a beehive easily,’ Ginny continued. ‘But stick it in a library and it’s impossible to ignore.’

Sam slapped Ginny supportively on the shoulder.

‘Damn, you’re good, kid!’

Ginny smiled.

Evil organisation or not, no-one messed with her girlfriend.

 *

  Luna stumbled forward. The members of the crime syndicate glowered at her. She had been blindfolded ever since she had been kidnapped from the hotel in Rio. They had only removed the blindfold when they had wanted her to inspect a plant.

Amazonian Octarine-Flame. It was the only one they seemed to be desperate to find. Luna wasn’t sure why they hadn’t just forced one of the locals to do it, but she wasn’t about to argue with the rifles the syndicate members were all carrying.

Gritting her teeth, Luna bent down and inspected the plant.

‘Tell us,’ instructed one of them, tapping his rifle in warning. ‘Is that the plant?’

Luna sighed.

‘Yes, it is. It’s the variant that grows above ground.’

‘Good.’

Luna stood back up. The members of the syndicate moved around her, and promptly dug up the plant, placing it and the earth around its roots into a special container they had brought with them.

‘Now, we head back to HQ.’

One of the syndicate members stepped forward, and pulled a mask roughly over Luna’s face.

‘For goodness sake; how am I supposed to walk if I can’t see?’ Luna asked, becoming very aware of how uneven the forest floor was beneath her feet.

‘We’re directing you where you should walk,’ said the syndicate member nearest to her. ‘We can’t have you knowing where our base is.’

‘I’m a florist, not a spy!’ Luna snapped. ‘You’ve got what you want; let me go!’

The syndicate members ignored her, and began to nudge her forward, using the butt of the rifles to do so. They weren’t quite as rough as Luna had been expecting, but it didn’t make the situation any better.

Don’t worry, Luna told herself, Ginny will find me.

As she stumbled forward, Luna’s mind began to work. The syndicate clearly didn’t want anyone to know where their base was, but they’d kept her mask off until she’d identified the plant. That mean… the base was nearby.

They walked on for a good distance. Luna wasn’t sure for how long but, given how many steps she was taking, it couldn’t have been for more than a few miles. That meant that they were still within the area that Remus and Tonks had discussed with Sam the other day.

There was a crackle in front of her. One of the syndicate members had pulled their walkie-talkie out of their pocket.

‘Viper company at section omega with person-of-interest 49?’

They were here. The base entrance must be nearby. Oh, if only she could see!

Luna was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she wasn’t prepared for the push behind her. She crashed to the ground, awkwardly landing on her hands and knees.

‘Get her up,’ grumbled the syndicate member in front. ‘That’s the sixth time she’s fallen over. We should have carried her the way; the last thing we want is the locals noticing the weird foot-prints.’

As Luna was pulled to her feet and pushed forward, she was vaguely aware of her hair swinging into a low-hanging tree branch. Thinking fast, she bit her lip, and gave her head a quick jerk in the opposite direction. There was a sharp shot of pain in her scalp.

The syndicate members didn’t seem to notice this as they bustled her forwards. Before she knew quite what was happening, she could feel herself being led down a steep passageway, out of the sunlight reaching through the rainforest trees.

 *

  Ginny climbed out of the jeep.

They had driving for… she honestly couldn’t remember how long. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours. Ginny hadn’t noticed; she had been focusing too much on Luna. On finding her and getting her out of harms way.

Tonks and Remus climbed out of the jeep. Sam was already standing a few feet ahead, and they all walked to where he was stood.

The rainforest completely surrounded the long dirt road they had travelled along to this spot. Ginny’s t-shirt was already soaked through with sweat due to the humidity, but she didn’t care; she was used to sweat.

Nearby the trees were stood several Amazonian tribespeople. One of them walked over, an elderly woman with kind eyes. She was clearly a local leader of some kind.

‘Hello, Sam.’

The grizzled agent shook hands with the woman.

‘Thank you for agreeing to help us,’ he said. ‘I know the last thing you want is more Westerners intruding.’

‘True,’ she replied. ‘But, by the sounds of it, the redheaded girl has an idea of what the syndicate is after. Which means we know where they’ll be.’

Ginny nodded.

‘Don’t worry,’ the woman said, placing a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. ‘We’ll find your Luna.’

Ginny blinked, quickly.

‘T-thank you,’ Ginny said. ‘Er, what did you say your name was?’

‘I’m afraid you probably couldn’t pronounce it in my language,’ the elderly woman replied, smiling. ‘But, in English, I go by Sky.’

‘Thank you, Sky.’

Sam laid out a map on the bonnet of one of the jeeps. They had marked the area of syndicate activity in red ink; sure enough, it was laid out in a twenty mile perimeter. The end of the dirt track was tantalisingly close to it.

‘Ginny, we don’t blame you if you want to stay here with the jeep,’ Remus said, kindly. ‘We can keep some agents back here with you until it’s safe.’

‘No,’ Ginny replied, her mind set. ‘I promised Luna I’d keep her safe, and I’m not letting a criminal gang hurt her.’

Remus smiled.

‘Okay.’

Leaving the jeeps behind on the track with a few agents, they ventured into the rainforest, using an old well-worn path. Sky and the local activists with her were leading the way, making sure that the MI6 agents avoided any dangerous plants or bugs.

The Amazon was unlike anything Ginny had ever seen before, and it honestly took her breath away. Trees and foliage spread out in all directions, and she could hear the calls of various birds and animals in the canopies above them. If she hadn’t been so worried about Luna, she would have been transfixed.

‘Footprints.’

Sky was crouched down on the ground a few feet ahead.

‘Someone came this way very recently,’ she said, ‘A group of them, and wearing deep-soled boots. Except one, who was just wearing shoes.’

Tonks and Sky nodded at each other.

They continued along the path.

Eventually, they rounded a corner, and came across a large tree. And Ginny’s eyes immediately zeroed in on something.

Hair.

Blond hair.

Luna’s hair.

It was snagged on the low-hanging branch.

Ginny locked eyes with Tonks, who nodded.

The agent exchanged looks with Remus and Sky, and the agents around them began to move into position. Sky mouthed the phrase ‘underground cave network’. The base was below where they were standing.

Gotcha. Ginny thought. Don’t worry, Lu; I’m coming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

[liusaidh-writing]

Call It True - Chapter 5

Here you all go! I am sorry, this is a bit shorter than normal, I've just done a poor job of splitting it all up. Chapter 6 will be longer, and things will actually happen, I promise! Anyway, enjoy this short baby chapter full of nothing much until I can get Chapter 6 up!

Also, apparently we’ve done away with the read-more cuts? Great...great idea...yeaaah.

Again, thanks to @faithperry46 for being a fantastic beta!

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>> Prefer AO3?

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

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Claire slumped in her chair, holding her chin in her hand as Harry slammed the toy cannon down on his high chair. It was a brilliant idea, Claire though glumly, to give children weapons at the dinner table. She’d already been pinged twice by the small foam ball that shot out of one end. Thankfully, it had rolled off the table, lost to the sea of chairs and tables around them, after the second shot bounced off Claire’s forehead. Harry had screamed briefly, before deciding that it was even more fun to make an entire restaurant wince as they watched him slam the cannon down, complete with sound effects bursting from his mouth: “Bang! Boom!” “Claire, do try to enjoy yourself!” Lesley begged, patting Claire’s hand from across the table as they watched a grown man in a pirate costume dance around, complete with a fake peg leg. At the behest of Lesley, Claire had ventured out of her flat after a day spent in bed, wallowing, attempting to ring Jamie with no luck. She ignored Lesley’s calls for as long as possible, until Harry popped up on Facetime, begging ‘Auntie Cwaire’ to come with them to eat. 

Now, Claire sat in front of a mountain of shellfish she was expected to consume, yet she wasn’t hungry at all. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just...I’m just not feeling all that well.” She hadn’t told Lesley about Jamie. She found that she was a bit embarrassed by it all, like she’d done something wrong. Yet, she also didn’t want Lelsey to say anything negative about Jamie. Not yet, anyway. Claire wasn’t yet angry enough to want to badmouth him to anyone. So, she kept quiet while nibbling on something from her plate. “Harry, do you want Auntie Claire to take you to the playground?” “Yes!” the little boy exclaimed. He’d been eyeing the restaurant’s play area since they’d arrived, though Claire had not been prepared to be offered up as a sacrificial lamb. “I’d...really rather not, Lesley. Look at it, it’s a madhouse! Kids all over the place…” Claire groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, come on. Up you get. It would make him so happy!” “He’d be a great deal happier if it was his own mother over there with him,” Claire snapped, irritated by Lesley’s insistence. Lesley’s eyes flew wide, her brow down in confusion. “What’s gotten into you?” “I don’t want to talk about it,” Claire responded, choosing to avoid Lesley’s eyes by peeking at her phone. She wasn’t expecting anything, and she wasn’t wrong. Her phone’s clock told her it was getting close to Harry’s bedtime, and she hoped this dinner would end soon. “Oh! How did your date with your Jamie fella go last night? Can’t believe I forgot to ask!” Claire rubbed her face with one hand, steeling herself for a conversation she wasn’t ready to have. “It was...okay. We went to the park, had a few drinks over dinner.” Claire shrugged, unwilling to go any further with the details. “Did he kiss ya?” “Oh please stop.” “Why? What in the world happened? You’ve been acting strange all night. Did you not enjoy yourself, then?” “I did,” Claire said slowly, “but, from what I understand, he didn’t.” “What makes you say that?” Lesley asked, shocked at Claire’s attitude. “You’re a fun girl, I’m sure that wasn’t what happened.” “Well….he left abruptly, leaving a small note, and I haven’t heard from him all day, so…” “Didn’t even say goodbye?” “I was...asleep.” Claire bit her tongue, careful of what she divulged with Harry sitting right there. “Ooooh, I see.” Lesley nodded with understanding, glancing at Harry who was still staring at the ball pit and slide. Claire watched as Lesley’s mind searched for something to say in response. She only came up with, “Would you like some ice cream?” 

Claire laughed in spite of herself, covering her mouth as unexpected tears filled her eyes. “Well, as long as it’ll get me out of...that.” She pointed at the play area. 

“Come on, Harry, up for an ice cream?”  Lesley pulled Harry out of his chair, and thankfully, they all exited the restaurant, Claire sighing with relief. 

---------

Next day, Claire hoped to wake to a missed call, or message from Jamie, but her phone was again silent. She decided to devote her day to chores around her flat, finally cleaning up the drink glasses the two of them had left two nights previous. 

She washed her bedsheets, mopped the kitchen floor, and vacuumed the carpets twice over. She threw out the rest of the whisky, pouring it down the drain with a satisfying gurgle. Throwing the glass bottle in the recycling bin, she spotted Jamie note on the counter, right where she’d dropped it.  Staring at it for a minute, she resolved to get rid of that, too. Erasing that night completely seemed like a good idea. Tearing it up into little pieces, she threw it in the rubbish bin, watching it stick to the plastic liner. She felt some relief, but knew Jamie would never leave her mind, no matter what physical actions she took. 

She’d found his white undershirt earlier, shoved underneath her duvet as she’d made her bed. She’d taken it out and tossed it across a chair in her bedroom, and she knew she couldn’t destroy that.  She pondered putting it in her closet, but couldn’t bring herself to hide it out of sight. If she hid it, she reasoned, she’d forget to return it when she saw him again. 

If. If she saw him. 

Now, she was sitting in a spotless flat, with nothing else to do but kill time until bed. She flipped channels on the television, unable to find anything that held her interest longer than five minutes. She flipped through a few magazines, landing on that room painting article Jamie had commented on days before. She smiled, wondering what color he’d choose to paint his flat if he could. 

Green, she decided - he looked like a forest green type of person - bring the outside in. She wouldn’t mind that, herself, she thought. Glancing around, her eyes drifted to the ceiling, where she’d usually hear Jamie’s footfalls. It had been silent though, since that night, when they’d both heard his nephew scurrying around doing whatever. 

Her eyes fell back to the rug, and she slumped over, arms on her knees as she thought. “I just want to know what I did,” she said to herself. She had run the night over in her head a million times, unable to come up with anything. She’d been herself, and if Jamie had a problem with that, then, well - good riddance? She wondered briefly if perhaps it wasn’t her that made him leave. She’d apparently slept so hard, maybe he’d gotten a phone call, perhaps his nephew had called him back to his own flat for whatever reason. Had his sister called him to the family farm? She threw her hands up in defeat, unable to come to an answer that was satisfactory. 

Picking up her mobile, she ordered food in and laid on the couch, determined not to think about Jamie for the rest of the night. She’d be at work tomorrow, and her mind would be occupied with all kinds of things. The idea of it soothed her, and she suddenly could wait to be back at the hospital. 

[willddheartt]

24 Days | Wilbur Soot

30 days to fall in love with someone? Sounds easy right? It would be if that person wasn’t so unbelievably annoying in almost every sense.

You’re not sure how you found yourself in this situation, but you were positive there was no backing out now…

Series Warnings: Mostly fluff and angst, and a very poorly constructed enemies to lovers plot.

Word Count: 1685

Masterlist Series Masterlist

24 Days

It was Friday, you were in the middle of doing your two-hour-long stream that you did every Friday. Since you took weekends off from your own streams you did a long one every week. It worked out, you seemed to get a lot more views on Friday anyways.  All the donos seemed to ask about you and Wilbur, you forced a smile to tell everyone you guys were well and that you’re very happy together. The viewers seemed to be happy with your responses and didn't catch you falter.  You were on the DreamSMP cleaning up things and repairing things from any creeper explosions, as having holes in the walkways annoyed you to no end because it didn't look pleasing to the eye. Many ties you were passed by Fundy, Tubbo, and even Tommy.  The in-game chat stated to be spammed by Tommy, VC 2 VC 2 VC 2 over and over again. 

“Well chat, let’s see what Tommy wants,” You giggled and switched to discord.  “Hello Tommy,” You smiled, wondering what type of shenanigans he was up to today, you noticed he was also streaming so you knew it was something that was going to be very entertaining to the stream.  “Y/N!” He yelled  “Tommy!” You yelled back, matching his energy.  “How do you do?” His sudden calm tone almost made you burst into a fit of laughter.  “I do well, Thomas. What are you up to tonight?” You asked, smiling to yourself when using his full name.  “Well, you see, Y/N. See here’s the thing. I am out of supplies, I don’t even have iron to my name Y/N-” “Do you want me to help you get some?” You offered, cutting him off  “Well, actually I was hoping you could just give me some.”  “Tommy,” You laughed, “That’s- unfortunately, that not how it works my friend.” You paused, taking a sip of your water, “I am more than willing to help you go mining, I know a pretty good spot actually, but I’m not going to just give you stuff for nothing.”  “C’mon Y/N you could write it off your taxes as a charity donation,”  You had to give it to him, although Tommy could be annoying at times he was so effortlessly funny, you were almost certain that he didn't even have to try. 

“Ah yes, hang on let me see what I have to give to Tommy’s charity fund,” You laughed, looking through your inventory, pondering for a few moments, making it look like you were going to give him half your stack of iron only our stream before clicking to the three seeds you’d picked up some time ago and throwing them at his feet. His character's head went from looking at you to the seeds, then back to you and back to the seeds again, you pulled up his stream on your other monitor so you could see his face, trying so hard to not burst out into laughter when you saw his unamused look. 

Feeling bad you pulled up a donation, giving Tommy Five bucks so the text-to-speech would work, “Tommy Charity Fund.” You sent and waited for it to go through.  He paused, hearing the dono tts voice, before looking back up at you in the game.  “Fuck you,” He said running away. You couldn't suppress your laughter any longer and it all fell out at once, chat exploded into laughter and emotes, everyone found it hilarious.

A few seconds after you were still in the voice chat with Tommy, he had ventured off to go mining, I guess stealing from people wasn't going well. Since the last war, nobody has really been gathering supplies, taking a break from the lore to just get things done around the server. Tommy still bringing up the ‘charity fund’ you found it hilarious. 

“You’re a bitch you know that,” He mumbled, you knew he was only joking, with Tommy you never took anything to heart, if he had a true problem with you, you know he would message you privately.  “Tommy,” Wilbur's voice came over discord, making you jump slightly.  “Hi Wilbur,” He said, sounding like a little kid when their mom gets them in trouble.  “Apologize to Y/N.'' Wilbur's voice was playful, yet stern, sounding exactly like the older brother who was put in charge of his younger siblings. 

After a second, you could see Tommy bow his head on his stream that was still pulled up on your other monitor.  “Sorry, Y/N. You’re not a bitch.” He said  “It’s okay Tommy,” You chuckled  “Thank you.” Spoke Wilbur before leaving the voice chat. 

You and Tommy stayed on call until his stream ended. You were left alone, talking to your chat. Without anyone else there to keep a consistent conversation you started to daze off, forgetting you were on stream, yawning and leaning forward onto your desk. Your back hurt from how long you’d been sat in front of the monitor. 

Your discord made a noise again, but this time you didn’t bother tabbing out to see who had joined.  “Hey, Y/N,” Wilburs soft voice came across your headphones  “Will,” You smiled, sitting up  “You look tired, how long have you been up?” He asked 

You looked at the clock, it was only 11 PM but you could have sworn it was later.  “Since one,”  “AM or PM?” Will asked  You looked down, “AM,” You mumbled. “You should go to bed,” He said You sighed, knowing he could break you eventually, as your eyelids were drooping shut and your eyes were burning. “Its not even that long, Wil, I’m fine.” You argued 

“How long have you been streaming?” Wilbur asked  “I’m almost at my five hour mark, I’m like forty-five minutes away,”  “End your stream early and get ready for bed than we can chat,” His voice was soft and warm speaking over your stream, your chat exploded, loving Wilbur and you together.  “But I’m so close, just a few more minutes,” You sighed, tabbing out of your game and switching the stream to a full face cam. “I’m sure they wont mind if you end a little early, you've been streaming for a while, love.” He continued, slowly wearing you down. “I can even entertain your chat for a bit while you go get ready for bed, or even make yourself a cup of tea, then when you come back, it will be close enough that you can end the stream, how does that sound?”  You sighed, knowing he had won. You looked at chat and back to the timer of how long you've been on stream, “Okay.” You nodded. 

“Alright Chat, I’m sorry for ending early but you heard the man. Next week will be extra long to make up for this, I promise.” You said, looking at the chat, everyone was spamming ‘goodnight’ and ‘goodbye’  “It was nice spending this fine evening with you all, but I must go now, I will see everyone Monday. Bye!” You ended stream 

“Hi, Wilbur,” You smiled to yourself after ending stream  “I’m going to call your number now, and you can go get ready for bed, okay?” He said  “Alright, Wil,” you nodded, closing all the windows you had open on your pc. 

After shutting everything off you grabbed what you needed and went to the bathroom. Wilbur called you halfway through taking your makeup off, you had eyeliner smudged all around your eyes when you answered his facetime.  When his face popped up on your screen, he was wearing his glasses and a big smile, his hair was a mess and he was already in bed. 

“Getting ready for bed?” He asked, as if he didn't already know.  “Of course,” You shook your head, leaning closer to the mirror making sure you had all the bits of makeup taken off before washing your face with warm water  Picking up your phone you held up a peace sign, making Wil laugh and attempt to take a sneaky screenshot.  “Hey, no, delete that, I look terrible.” You quickly argued after hearing the noise.  “You do not.” He was fast to respond. “You look refreshed, you're glowing.” you shook your head at him as you walked back to your room through the dark house. 

Your roommate had already gone to bed, close to an hour ago. You were always the last person up, being an internet person with many American friends who are in a different time zone and a night owl at heart. You flopped down into your soft pillows, pulling your duvet over yourself and propping your phone up on your laptop so you could still see Wilbur and he could see you. You pulled the corner of the blanket up to hide your face. 

“Don't do that, I want to see your face,” Wilbur frowned.  “No you don’t,” You shook your head  “Yes,” He spoke, “I do.” You moved the blanket so it wasn't all the way covering your face but it was still pulled up enough that your shoulders were covered.  “You realize next week you’ll be here for your stream?” Wilbur said.  “I do now,” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry, I didn't think of that,”  “Its okay, you can stream from my computer,” He smiled. “It will surprise chat,”  “Oh my god, can you imagine, they're going to go crazy,” You chuckled  “They will,”

Wilbur continued to tell you about how he was truly getting excited to have you meet him in person, but his soft voice had been lulling you to sleep, your eyelids struggling to stay open and your warm bed weighing you down. Eventually you were out. Wilbur didn't notice until he asked you a question and did not respond. Your laptop screen was still shining light on you, and he saw you were asleep against the black screen, smiling at you. He snuck another screenshot, making sure the sound was off this time. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said sweetly before getting comfortable in bed himself and slowly drifting off. 

[heartau]

Domaine de la Romanée | J.JH [M]

Genre: rich kid!au - angst, smut, slow burn-ish, pining, fluff Word count: 41.2k (i am so sorry.) Comments: ok.... i got rly engrossed in the plot and world building so i went super buckwild on this. i apologize for that. i worked on this for a whole month + 2 weeks so .... enjoy! i’d love love looove hearing some feedback! also UNEDITED.  Warnings: very, very, very explicit sexual content - rough sex, choking, throat-fucking, degradation, dirty talk, oral sex, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, overstimulation, unprotected, breeding kink | strong language, various sexual scenes, infidelity(? kinda). 

Even the most pure become tainted when their eyes meet his. This was doomed from the start; you knew it was dangerous, you knew it was bad - but all those thoughts left your mind the second he made you feel good. 

[ ⚠ ] This piece involves a very problematic scenario (ie. infidelity). Please note that I do not promote nor advocate it. This is a work of pure fiction, involving a plot that is compelling to read and write about. Please read the trigger warnings listed and assess if you are comfortable to proceed - I do not wish to harm or trigger anybody. Adding on, while this work of fiction features real people, I would like to remind you that how I portray them does not, in any way, correlate to how they truly act in real life - I am just using them as characters for a plot. I do not wish to defame or insult anybody, I am just here to practice my passion in writing and entertain you.

Domaine de la Romanée - Field of Romance

You eyed the roses placed within the glass vase situated in the center of the table and wondered to yourself when this monotonous gala will reach its conclusion. The Versace gown that hugs your body has already started to itch at your skin and the corset that your stylists forced you into before leaving for the jubilee eludes you from making numerous rounds to the dessert table, but your mother’s joyful grin and welcoming arms lead you to believe that the night is far from reaching its end. Unable to slouch over in your seat, all you are able to do is sit stiff against the backrest of your plush velvet chair, fingers pinched at the stem of your glass of wine, swirling the liquid of domaine de la romanée-cont.

This gala was all your mother’s proposal for her new Spring collection releasing just a few days prior, ensembles of pastel and bold colours rolling out onto the runway and fostering a flock of people to rush into your boutiques littered across the globe. Your great-great-grandmother was the founder of Decoré, established in the year 1882, and the brand overtook the fashion industry by storm, raking millions and millions of dollars into your family name. She, who passed the company down to her daughter, who passed it onto her own daughter, who passed it onto your mother, were all eager with the idea of leading their own business. Forthwith, in a few years time, it’ll be your own turn in leading this empire - and you couldn’t be more than fervent in finally having the brand in your own two hands.

Of course, your mother thinks the same, as to why this celebration doubles as a matchmaking service for you, her only child. 

“(Y/N), dear!” she calls your name, hushed by the constant classical music reverberating from the string ensemble. You turn to meet her direction, eyes automatically moving to the man she was pulling along with her, and for the nth time that night, wished that you weren’t stuck in such a tight corset so you could guzzle up every wine bottle in sight in order to avoid the imminent doom. “There is someone I’d like you to meet!” 

Yukhei “Lucas” Xuxi Wong the IV, whom most people know as Wong Yukhei, whom most people refer to as only Lucas. The amount of names that the man holds equates nowhere near the amount of distaste you hold for him; if it weren’t for the grossly iniquitous personality that you have come to know and hear by virtue of the internet, you would have already been charmed by his sharp, dusky eyes and spellbinding smile. Your poor mother, far too oblivious, beams in what you could only describe as acceptance.

“This is Yukhei Wong the IV,” your mother grins as Lucas pulls a chair out for her to sit on. He smooths down his tan Hermés suit before sitting down in the plush seat on your other side, already attempting to send provocative eyes your way. “He is the next in line for the chief executive position of the Wong Institute of Medicine, you know, the beautiful university in New York? Yukhei, this is my daughter, (Y/N)!” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Yukhei.” you say, feigning a kind smile as you outstretch your hand towards the tall, handsome man. 

“Please, call me Lucas,” he coquettes, taking your hand and leaning down to press a kiss on your knuckles. For a split second, you are unsure if the cause of the slight taste of domaine de la romanée-cont travelling back up your esophagus was induced by this wanton or if it’s due to your corset digging into your stomach. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, dear. You are just as beautiful as you are in the photo shoots I’ve seen. Even more so, really.”

You throw him a simper as you gently pull your hand away from him, rejection clear on your expression but unbeknownst to him. You’ve read up on countless articles about this man, how doomed the reputation of Wong Institute was going to be once he gets ahold of the company; limitless cheating scandals, a myriad of DUIs, and multitudes of other alleged crimes, you’re almost confused, if not horrified, at how on earth your mother would think he’d be a perfect candidate for you - but the glimmering chandelier that must have cost millions above you is the token answer to that.

“Lucas was telling me about how the last of his father’s inquiries are wrapping up before KIM is being passed onto him. Isn’t that right, Lucas?” your mother urges the man, who looks at you with a type of hunger in his eyes that you’d rather not question him about. “You two youngsters have a chat, I have to go welcome my guests!”

“Yes, of course!” Lucas tears his eyes off your body for the first time since meeting him only seconds ago, sending a kilowatt smile at your mother, who pivots on her heel before walking back towards the entrance hallway. “My father is such an inspirational man, he’s built an empire of medical resources. So many of the world’s renowned doctors graduated from our institute - but, to be truthful, I’m terrified of taking that empire into my own hands without someone I can call my wife by my side to cheer me on.” 

You try all you can to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Is that so?” leaves your mouth in bitter fashion.

Ever since you had become of age five years ago, your mother has been desperately trying to match you with a whole slew of men to wed from her business networks, planning blind dates for you and offering you their numbers. From medicine, to theatrics, you have encountered every type of man possible in just the last few years and yet, none of them come quite close to your savour. Either they were far too goal-oriented for you to envision a loving future, far too dull for you to envision a happy future, or far too… abhorrent for you to envision a healthy future. Perhaps your mother knew of Lucas’ true colours but only considered the business venture and the large percentage of the stock he would inherit from the Wong Institute - but other than that, you are stumped as to why she would even contemplate a marriage between the two of you, fields of expertise far too wide and vast from each other.

“Yes, it is,” Lucas says, eyes casting down as if he were reenacting a monologue of a play. “But it’s hard, you know? I haven’t found the perfect woman to marry yet; they’re either far too childish, or are plain gold-diggers, which, frankly, isn’t really my taste.”

“Hm.” you answer bluntly, taking another sip of your savoury wine. 

As he continues to drone on and on about his ideals and morals, none of which you are inclined to believe at all, you find yourself falling short from the wine in your glass, having already drunk all of the liquid. 

“Would you like me to get you some more, (Y/N)?” Lucas asks, cocking his head to the side, a gummy smile stretching on his face. 

You shake your head. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. I’m in need of a refresher, anyways,” you stand, legs slightly numb from where your corset pinched your waist. “It was very nice talking to you, Lucas.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, standing up as well. “Can I see you again sometime?”

You scrunch your nose, and for the first time since meeting him, he flashes a dejected look in his eye. “You’ll have to book an appointment with my manager.” 

And with that, you pivot on your heel and head towards the refreshments, leaving a stunned Lucas in your wake, praising yourself for finishing your wine rather than dumping the remnants of it over his Hermés suit. You let out a sigh as you find solace in the classical music, reading the labels of each wine bottle displayed in rows on the table. Finding the bottle for domaine de la romanée-conti, you request one of the caterers to fill your glass, and within seconds, you find yourself standing in the corner of the venue, far from where you originally sat. You studied the decorations adorned throughout the hall, very much in theme with your mother’s Spring collection - fabrics of pastel silk and decorative flowers suspending from the ceiling above, causing chandeliers to look like floweret bulbs and to emit a slight, coral glow. 

“Quite peculiar that the great (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is standing in the corner and not conversing with the guests of her mother’s own gala,” a merry voice causes you to look up from your swirling wine, breaking out into your first smile of the night at the sight of your best friend. 

Joohyun “Irene” Kim, is the granddaughter of the founder of Bae Institute of Fashion, a very renowned university of design established in the hills of Beverly and Hollywood. You had met her the first year you had gone to school, automatically sticking to each other like magnets. Although she may be a quiet woman herself, she was relatively much more confident than you were as a growing child; she had helped you bloom from your shell. You are an only child, but ever since meeting Irene, you only feel as though you’ve grown with a sister.

“Irene,” you smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course I came!” she giggles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How could I miss the unravelling of Decoré’s Spring Collection, especially so, since some graduates of the institute collaborated on the subject. I actually saw you not too long ago, conversing with Wong Yukhei,” she leans against the wall beside you. “Anything juicy?”

“Not so,” you let out a sigh. “It’s just mother trying to get me to meet another man for marriage. Although, I’m not sure why she would think that man is a good choice.” 

“Evidently so, last I heard, he splurged half of his institute’s money on a night spent in a hotel in Italy with dozens of women on his arms,” Irene sighs, shaking her head. “Why does your mother insist on you marrying? You’re still a young woman, you have a life to live first - and besides, it’s not like any of the guys she’s found for you are all that interesting either.”

You let out a snicker, shaking your head. “You have no right in lecturing me, Irene, aren’t you engaged?” you quirked an eyebrow at your best friend while she rolls her eyes at you. “Frankly, I’ve never seen you so happy than the night Seokjin proposed. It was quite a sight, really.”

“Oh shut up,” she pouts, lightly hitting you on your shoulder. “Once you find the man you’ve been waiting for, you’ll know the feeling exactly.” 

The rest of the night is spent with you glued to her arm, following her around the venue as she greets the people that she knows. Irene has always been just a little more social than you have ever been, and now with an engagement ring on her finger, it only brings more topics of discussion with her. You had the chance to meet her fiancé, Kim Seokjin, as well, proving himself a good and commendable man; he held admiring eyes for only her and had an air of genuinity - you felt the inkling of envy building in your stomach, not because you wished for Seokjin to love you, but because your best friend had found a good man to settle down with, something that doesn’t seem at all possible for you. 

As the night continues on, you find yourself seated at their table, watching as individuals adorned in brand names from Vuitton to Marchesa walk past you with high chins and flutes of liquor. The string ensemble has shifted their focus from classical and moved onto jazz, and you’re almost sure they’ve been playing the same measure for the past twelve minutes. Sighing as the couple beside you converse as if they’re in their own world, you continue to look around the room, finding your mother rearranging a pot of decorative flowers to her liking right next to a panoramic window. Your eyes shift to the other side of the window, and you instinctively sit forward in your chair.

Clad in a dark grey suit by Hemsworth and a black tie tucked behind his blazer, a handsome man of tall stature does the same thing as you, watching individuals walk past and interact amongst themselves, swirling cheval blanc in his wine glass. His hair, an ash blonde, a dye job that works wonders for his creamy skin tone, is slicked back messily, a few strands of hair slipping through the layer of gel and hanging in front of his forehead. His face, square in shape, held a juxtaposition of features, sharp eyes, but a soft nose; sharp lips, but a sleek jawline and fleshy cheeks. He looked stunning, far more stunning than the men you’ve met throughout the last five years; he looked as if he walked out of an impressionist painting. 

Just before you were about to tear your eyes off of the man, his head turns to your direction, automatically meeting your eyes. For a split second, his gaze tears, only to return boring into yours again, which causes you to gasp slightly. His face remains expressionless as he continues your eye contact, before he surely looks away from you one last time. Your hand bunches up the soft blue silk of your Versace gown before spinning towards Irene. 

“Irene.” you grab her hand, diverting her attention away from her fiancé. 

“Yes? What is it?” she turns to you. You let out a puff of air before continuing your sentence.

You turn your head again to see if the man is still there, to which he was, eyes back to focusing on the rest of the crowd lining the halls. “That man over there, in the dark grey, next to the window,” you whisper to her. “Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

Her eyes follow your line of sight with an expression of joy since at last, you’ve finally found a man you showed at least an inkling of interest in, but once her eyes land on the man in question, her expression falls.

“No.” her voice turns grave, much to your panic. “(Y/N), don’t you dare even think about it.”

You widen your eyes in confusion, searching her face to find clues if she were just joking - but her expression remains serious. “Why?” you ask her. “Who is he?”

“That’s Jay Jung,” she tells you, grasping your hands. “Better known as Jung Jaehyun. He’s next in line for the position of CEO for Jung & Associates, you know, that really famous law firm? They’re a family full of lawyers - they come from old money, (Y/N), they’re extremely powerful. They’re not here to play dress-up like the rest of us.” 

You furrow your brows. You’ve heard about Jung & Associates before in fleeting conversations. Always on the topic of them winning innumberal cases and trials, or articles that litter your ears during outings of his father merging with and overpowering other law firms. You recall hearing your mother talking about Jung & Associates on the phone while you sat in the lounging area scrolling through your Twitter feed, just a few weeks ago.

“What? We come from old money as well, Irene.” you urge her on, not quite understanding her rejectful view of the man. The two of you also come from old money, Decoré and the BAE Institute have been established for generations and still continue to stick around by blood lineage, so you were unsure why she seemed so rattled by the man and his family name.

“Yes, but we’re different,” Irene pauses. “Our companies collaborate with each other, because we can, and because our environments and industries are light-hearted enough. Jung & Associates does not collaborate - they purchase the smaller companies, no matter what field of expertise the company aims for, and whether they like it or not.” She glances back towards Jaehyun, who had begun to walk back into the lounging area, walking past the plush velvet chairs. “I know that Jung Jaehyun holds the ego of five men, he thinks of himself as if he is on a pedestal.” 

You watch as the man gazes at the decorations strewn across the gallery, a flat expression gracing his angelic features. It’s quite disheartening that a man so attractive as he could possess such alleged revolting qualities - but you aren’t shocked; throughout the years of being taught by your mother on how to pull the ropes of a company as a woman, it isn’t like you’re unaccustomed to men forging their own skills in order to get to the top. You’ve learned that the hard way.

“Why does he look like that? He looks miserable.” you scoff, eyeing him as he continues to walk past an array of your mother’s guests, avoiding their widened eyes and hushed whispers. He looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else but to be present in this gala, which is a feeling you associate with, but you would never say that out loud. 

“I’m not sure, he usually has the semblance of a smile on - but that’s mostly when he’s with his brothers,” she says, watching him along with you. “It’s peculiar that he’s here by himself.” 

The faintest feeling of apprehension bubbles up in your stomach once more, but you shake it off. This man is still young, the law firm hasn’t been passed down to him yet - he’s probably just here for his own amusement and pleasure, and was wholly disappointed by the lack of fun and the droning jazz music. Whatever the case, you still find yourself unable to look away from him, taking in his beauty, finding yourself wish, just for a split second, that the rumours about him are nowhere near true. He seats himself at a table near the center of the ballroom, and his eyes flashes to yours once again, his gaze lingering on your eyes. This time, you’re the first to look away.

-----

The silk chiffon robe that adorns your body designed specifically for you by Montenero is a price that even your shoes tucked away in their own walk-in closet cannot reach. The hush humdrum of french chatter originating from people passing underneath your hotel balcony is calming to you, having growing used to the booming noises that come with residing deep within a city. October is your favourite time of year to visit Bordeaux, France, as the pesky throngs of tourists finally dwindle away and due to the sun deciding to emit heat much gentler than any other season. Even the staff of Hôtel Le Palais Gallien bear a jolly expression this time of year.

It is occasions like this when you would find yourself sojourned in this city for a breather from your hectic work life, photoshoots and fashion shows demanding your occupancy more than seventy hours per week, the cool evening air kissing your cheek bones as you breath out a blissful sigh. Just on the 7 rue Ferrere inside an old warehouse building built of cobblestones and brick, was an exhibition held by your favourite photographer, John Suh - rather than flashy ornaments strewn over sets and models posing themselves in an avant-garde manner, he always pursued natural lighting, habitual individual quirks; simplistic, comfortable, authentic. You had always wished to collaborate with him on a photoshoot, but his schedule would always turn up booked; you would have to wait years to be able to book an appointment with him.

You smooth down the slightly scrunched fabric of your lilac Rachel Parcell summer dress, leather satchel by Kate Spade in tow as you step out of the sleek black car; you had told your chauffeur to meet you at the same spot in about two hours and a half, wanting to experience the exhibition in full on your own. Journalists and cameramen have already bombarded the entrance, yelling multiple queries for you to answer, ranging from questioning your enthusiasm on the upcoming exhibition or if your mother has any plans releasing a new collection before the year ends. You are only thankful for the Tom Ford sunglasses that you pull down to perch on your nose, blocking the frantic flashing lights of cameras, making your way into the cobblestone building with the help of the doorman.

When the wooden doors close and the yells of journalist cease behind the doorways, your ears are calmed with the sound of classical music, playing faintly along the gallery. It echoes against gravel walls, the effect soothing to you, encompassed in art. The photographs, stuck against large, plain, white boards, lit with dim lighting, is your first priority, slipping your sunglasses off and perching them back on your head. You study each one, carefully, analyzing each snapshot eagerly. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear a familiar voice, and you quickly spin around, meeting the cordial eyes of your best friend’s fiancé. Seokjin strolls towards you with a casual gait in his step. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hello, Seokjin,” you smile and nod your head towards him. You take note of the wine glass pinched between his fingers, telling yourself to make rounds to the beverages soon. “I never took you as the person to enjoy fine arts.” you joke, watching him chuckle in response.

“I am the grandson of the guy who founded Kim Productions,” he tells you in a light tone. Seokjin’s grandfather is the chief executive of Kim Pictures, a prominent production company known by their several high-grossing films and featurettes; he doesn’t show it on his face nor in his attitude though - he is down-to-earth, which is admirable; men in this environment seem to forget their manners and morals. “However, I’m really just here to support one of my best friends.”

“You’re friends with John Suh?” you question him.

He nods, pressing his lips together which causes his cheeks to puff out slightly. “Yep!” he answers. “We went to the same university together, took the same courses and whatnot. One of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He actually goes by Johnny - he uses John to sound more professional.” 

You nod your head in understanding, attempting to keep your excitement under wraps. You couldn’t bare risking your clean repute to be tainted by pestering Kim Seokjin for a collaboration with your favourite photographer. A smile finds their way on your lips before you open your mouth again. “I’m a very big fan,” you tell him. “His pictures are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Seokjin asks you, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a momentary sip. “I never took you as the type to be engrossed in photography.” 

“I am a model.” you laugh, using the same tone he had used with you prior.

“You got me there,” he jokes. “Johnny’s actually doing an interview for Aesthetica right now, but perhaps once he’s finished I can take you to meet him!” 

“Are you willing to?” you ask him, unsure if he feels as if he’s forced to do so, or if he’s genuinely happy to let you meet his good friend. He nods, an authentic smile gracing his features, and you push back the will to grin in a cheerful manner of excitement, a small, thankful smile finding its way onto your face.

It takes all for you to keep that calm, serene beam on your face though, when you finally come face to face with one of your heroes. He stands tall, taller than you would have ever imagined a person to be, with long brown locks that sway in front of his face and square shoulders that slightly protrude forward due to endless nights of editing his own photos. A knit black sweater by Valentino curtains his body, fit beige trousers covering his endless legs and ending with polished black shoes that you can see your reflection in. 

“Ah,” he says, clasping his hands together in excitement. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen you in many advertisements and fashion magazines - my husband is a very big fan!” 

You are in heaven at the sound of your idol recognizing you, finally letting your excited grin show on your face as you consent to his kiss upon your knuckles. You had heard of John Suh being cheerful and pleasant through many accounts, you are aware of his philanthropic duties, constantly bringing awareness to the troubles around the world. Often does he donate the money that he’s cashed in from his projects to multiple charities - these moments seem to be the chit-chat that takes place around garden parties and other functions frequently. His husband, Chittaphon, who is known solely as Ten, is a prominent model of whom he had met during a shoot with Vogue. You remember their love story being placed on television, articles littered all over your social media; a charming model known for his playboy repute has fallen for a peaceful, relaxing photographer - their love story is something you could only dream about and desire as your own.

“I’m so excited to meet you,” you tell him, face red with enthusiasm. “I'm a very, very big fan of your works - I’ve always wished for us to collaborate.” 

He lets out a deep laugh, hand resting on his stomach. “Actually, I’ve always tried to book an appointment with you, but your manager would only tell me of dates years into the future.” 

Your jaw drops. “No way,” you let out a laugh. “I’ve been doing the same thing for you!”

The three of you, including Seokjin, converse like old college friends, quickly becoming close as you exchange laughs and slight quips; you and Johnny excitedly make plans for a shoot, promising to clear out the least important schedules in your itinerary. Wholly excited, you’ve got to owe everything to Seokjin, who was able to make this possible for you. As the event nears its end, people beginning to clear out of the warehouse, you find a new friend in Johnny, thankful for the opportunity to make acquaintance with him.

You leave briefly in the midst of the two men’s conversation about their college days to make rounds to the beverages, letting the server pour domaine de la romanée-conti into your wine glass, letting the heavenly liquid attack your taste buds and closing your eyes in delight. The knowledge of your mother not being present with you, having stayed behind in Seoul to run the reigns of the company building thusly not breathing down your neck to keep your eyes open for a potential future husband, is something equivalent to freedom. You listen to classical music playing softly along the gallery for a few seconds, Franz Schubert absorbing into your eardrums, before opening your eyes to find your way back to Johnny and Seokjin. 

You only find yourself frozen when your eyes open to familiar ones staring back at you. 

His hair is still an ash blond, styled much like the first time you saw him, a few loose strands escaping the net of hair gel and kissing the front of his forehead. His lips, which were pulled into a slight scowl when you had first seen them, had the slightest sight of a smirk, the corner of his lip raised faintly. He’s dressed in a fit, pressed, light grey suit by Ted Baker, Daniel Wellington watch peeking from his exposed wrist when he pulls his hand to his lips to sip from his veuve clicquot champagne. Yet, even with the details of his dress and face, you find your eyes stuck on one feature; his eyes. Never tearing from yours, his brown eyes hold an emotion that you cannot decipher. 

It takes you a nanosecond to shake yourself out of your trance, averting your eyes away from his gaze as you pivot on your heel, making your way back through the gallery towards Seokjin and Johnny. You are unsure as to why Jaehyun is here, much like the first time you had seen him at your mother’s galal; you recall Irene talking about his personality and morals, he does not seem like the type to enjoy fine arts. A heat crawls up your neck upon realizing how you must have looked like a deer in headlights upon meeting his eyes, cursing at yourself for being so brash with your staring, feeling the heat cloud your cheeks when you realize he probably must have recognized you from the first time you had seen him - there is no way he will not recognize you now. 

“There you are,” Johnny says, raising his glass when you return. “I was starting to think you had gotten lost. I was going to ask one of my guards to search for a short woman in lilac!”

You shake your head fervently, bubbling up a laugh that didn’t sound so nervous much to your favour. “No, no,” you smile, letting out a sigh in attempt to let go of what had just happened. “I just got distracted.”

You will yourself to catch up on the conversation that you had missed while you were stuck staring into the umber eyes of Jung Jaehyun, but it is all that you could think about, finding yourself falling quiet and finding interest in the way the wine in your glass swirls. The two men did not really notice as they were in deep conversation, and you did not mind. Hushed under your thoughts, their voices become familiar enough for you to decipher - until a new voice began to cut through a conversation. 

“Brother,” a deep, booming baritone voice sounds, and you grip the stem of your wine glass with tension. You glance upwards, Jaehyun right in front of you now, hand on Johnny’s shoulder, whose entire body has gone stiff. His eyes are cast at Johnny, deftly avoiding yours. Brother?, you wonder. They are related? “Father called, he’s had a flight booked for the both of us back to Seoul tonight. We should get going now.”

“Jaehyun, it seems as if you do not understand that this is my exhibition,” Johnny turns to the slightly shorter man. He seems to visibly relax but his fist that hangs loose on his side is still clenched. “It will be rude of me to leave the guests that came to support me so early. You go on that flight. I can handle my own payments, I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Jaehyun huffed, his jaw clenching. From a distance, he was beautiful, but up close, he looks unreal; his lips much plumper and skin similar to porcelain, spotless. You look towards Seokjin, unsure of how to act, but even the confident, humorous man finds solace in staring into his wine glass. “These are father’s orders,” Jaehyun tells him, voice authoritative. “He wants us home by tonight.”

“And we will be,” Johnny says through a grit smile. “I’ll just be late. Please, Jaehyun; tonight is my night. Don’t let your family business ruin this for me as well.”

You are confused as you listen to them, still reeling from the information that you had uncovered that Johnny and Jaehyun are related to each other. Your family business, you repeat in your head. He words his sentence as if he was not a part of the family, and judging by his body language, it seems as if that is what he wishes. Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun lets out a loud sigh, eyes dark as he glares at Johnny. He backs away without a word, before he pivots on his heel, and in a fleeting moment his eyes lock with yours; you suck in a breath as the nanosecond passes you by. His lips, this time, do not form into a smirk, but are pressed into a thin line. Withdrawing back into the crowd, he is the first to tear his eyes away. 

“Sorry about him,” Johnny breathes after a few moments of silence, perching the glass of wine atop a table beside him. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, grimacing. “My brother is not usually like that. It’s just... he’s stressed about the law firm.”

You nod, listening intently, hoping for Johnny to continue into a discussion about his relation to Jaehyun, wanting to know more about the Jung family, desiring answers to the questions that you have conjured in your brain, but he does not mention it again after that. As the night comes to a close, you have already eased up from the short moment you shared with the enigmatic man; as the night comes to a close, you find yourself exchanging numbers with Johnny, proving him to be a friend you will keep for a long time; as the night comes to a close, the dark, impenetrable eyes that lingers on your form is something you stay oblivious to.

-----

The heat of the Philippine sun beating into your skin is nothing short of pleasant, the scent of salt water lacing its way into your nostrils. The grains of sand that dig into your skin bears no competition to the softness of your carpeted bedroom floors back home You are in paradise; actually, you are in Cebu, Philippines, tanning underneath the blazing sun in Plantation Bay, which is most possibly the closest to paradise you will ever meet. It is after you and Irene had finished volunteering at a children’s center situated in the middle of Cebu City, finding solace in making friends with the children and helping them with whatever you could. Children have always been a soft spot for you, you absolutely adored them and were a natural with handling them, so you jumped at the chance to experience this when Irene father had brought it up in conversation with the both of you. 

“There is a live band playing tonight at the Palermo restaurant,” says Irene, voice deafened by the loud crashing of the ocean waves in front of you as well as the clamorous yelling of children and other people staying in the resort around the pool area. “We should check it out. It’s been a while since I’ve heard music other than jazz and classical being played live.” 

You nod, agreeing to her plans, before the two of you rest in peaceful silence once more, taking in the heat of the sun. You find yourself hours later, in the hotel room that the two of you shared, placing a Salina crop top by Reformation atop your Burberry printed bikini top, and high waisted denim shorts you had acquired from a fast fashion brand while scavenging through one of the malls. Placing some lip gloss and mascara on before ensuring that Irene was ready, the both of you eagerly leave to head to the ground floor, where the restaurant is situated. 

As soon as you step foot into the restaurant, the air is filled with nothing but of music and the smell of savoury foods. You had acquired a taste for many of the dishes, finding it fitting to your tastes, so you were excited to have a full meal and enjoy some music that night. A band composed of four people stand atop a panel, jamming out to local music, people singing along joyfully, which makes you grin in delight. You do not know how to speak in Bisaya, knowing only a few short phrases here and there, but the tune is familiar to you, and so you hum along. 

You and Irene sit in one of the tables on the elevated level of the restaurant, just a few more feet away from the band, enjoying a space that isn’t so crowded. 

“Seokjin tells me that he took you to meet Johnny Suh at his photography exhibition in Bordeaux,” she mentions to you after the waitress had left with your orders. “Tell me, how did it feel meeting your hero?”

“It was amazing,” you giggled, recalling the feeling of meeting someone you had looked up to that happened just a mere few weeks ago. “We actually became good friends - we have our own group chat and everything. Tell Seokjin I said thank you, he’s such a kind man.”

Irene laughs, waving you off. “Anything else interesting that happened on that trip?” she asks. “Hooked up with any French boys? I heard that the hotel you stayed in proves to be a beautiful place to have sex.”

You roll your eyes at her as you take a sip of your water. “No, Irene, I did not bone anyone,” you tell her as she snickers. You suddenly recollect memories of meeting Jaehyun’s eyes; the mere thought sends jolts to run through your nerves. “However, Jaehyun was there.”

“Really?” Irene asks, wonder on her face, before she let out a gasp, bringing her hands to her cheeks as she grimaces. “Goodness, my apologies, I forgot to mention that Johnny and Jaehyun are half-brothers, how could I forget!” she seems to beat herself up momentarily but then calms. “Did anything happen with him?”

You gulp down the urge to tell her about his intense staring. “Not anything special,” you lie. “He and Johnny got into a heated discussion about going back to Seoul, something about their father needing them back at that very moment. However, Jaehyun left before it could get worse.“ Irene seems to relax in her seat as you play with one of the dining utensils placed in front of you. After a few moments of silence, you open your mouth. “Irene, tell me about the Jung family. I’m curious.”

Irene seems to be taken aback from your question but hums, recalling some facts that she may know of. “From what I know, Johnny is the child of Mr. Jung’s first wife, who had left him for one of their butlers. Jaehyun, and their youngest, Jaemin, are the sons of his second, and current, wife,” she pauses. “Apparently, Mr. Jung is still furious about his first wife leaving him, which is why he promised Jaehyun, his second son, the company, instead of Johnny.”

“Oh.” you whisper, heartstrings tugging at the sad story - spite causes people to make the most hurtful actions.

“Seokjin met Johnny in university, they’re very, very good friends,” Irene continues. “From what he’s told me, Johnny and Jaehyun have always had a strained relationship - he’s unsure why, really. I guess you can tell from the way Johnny still continues to bear his mother’s last name. Anyways, Seokjin told me that it was never Johnny’s dream to run a law firm, and when Mr. Jung appointed Jaehyun as the next chief executive officer, the hateful tension between them raised a little bit more.”

“Why?” you find yourself engrossed in the story, waiting for her to tell you more about the Jung family, but she shakes her head. 

Irene sighs. “I’m afraid this is where my knowledge reaches its end,” she says, and you will yourself not to pout, relishing in the newfound information. “Why do you want to know about the Jung family so much, though? Don’t tell me you’ve taken an interest in Jaehyun, (Y/N); he’s devious, please remember that.”

You shake your head fervently, heat rising up your neck. “No! No, of course not,” you tell her, waving your arms in front of your face. “I was just curious as to why he was so snippy. It was quite rude, really, to see him talking down on his brother like that at his own exhibition.”

She hums in response, not quite believing your tale, but your orders arrive before she could say anything else. The two of you enjoy your meal and converse, talking up a storm like the two of you usually do whenever together. When you are halfway into your meal, the calamares fritos proving heavenly to your stomach, Irene stands from her chair with her purse, excusing herself to the bathroom. You nod, letting her go as you continue to eat your meal alone, instead, facing the screen of your phone. Woefully finishing your meal before Irene can return, you take this time to relish in the atmosphere. The music, now traded for a softer sound with velvety guitars and smooth bass, calms the environment, people around you had went from a jovial bellowing to conversing calmly in their circle groups. To your right is a panoramic window that is painted over with watercolour. You study each stroke as you rest your chin on top of your hand. 

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress’ hushed voice catches your attention, and you turn towards her. “Domaine de la romanée-conti, from the gentleman at the bar.”

You nod your head at her in thanks, curiously accepting the glass of wine. She sets it down on the table in front of you, and you are stumped. Domaine de la romanée-conti is your favourite, and although it was commonplace in many wine enthusiasts’ palates and collections, it was very expensive to purchase. You look around the restaurant, hoping to catch sight of whomever had, not only splurged their money on you, but had correctly guessed your favoured vin dus pays, eyes dashing around each individual until you land on a gaze that causes your breath to hitch.

His smirk is more distinctive now, even under the dim lights of the restaurant. His ash blond hair was not slicked back this time, instead swept aside on his forehead in messy layers. He is dashing even in casual attire, Commes des Garçons fit on his upper body, short sleeves revealing the veins that run through his muscular arms and tight black jeans that capture every curve of his thighs. The look was appalling to you, having grown used to seeing him clad in nothing but expensive suits - but even when you bite back the gasp from seeing him in the area, your eyes are still locked on his. 

He grabs the glass that he had situated in front of him, filled with veuve clicquot, before standing up from his chair and approaching you. Your eyes never leave his; you still cannot pinpoint the emotions stirring inside them, even when he takes his seat in front of you. 

“It’s funny that we see each other so often, but we still have yet to introduce ourselves to each other,” he starts, the voice you had heard almost booming at Johnny’s exhibition a few weeks ago is at a much gentler tone now. He reaches his hand over the table, expecting you to grab it. “My name is Jung Jaehyun, of Jung & Associates.”

You stare at his hand for a few seconds, not knowing whether you should accept it or not. You interrogate yourself in your thoughts, recalling Irene several warnings; but his gaze is far too intense for you to reject it - and even then, you do not wish for sour feelings between the both of you; even if Jaehyun’s moral compass was wrong, you know Decoré would be ruined the day you decide to act antagonistic towards him. You reach your hand over the table as well, taking his and shaking it lightly, memorizing the smoothness of his hands.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” your voice is kind, sending him a smile. You remember the time you had given Wong Lucas the same tone and face when he thought he could have a chance with you; it’s almost deja vu when you send it towards Jaehyun - almost. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

“Same to you,” he begins, a charming smile on his face. He has dimples, and you gulp as your breathing begins to falter. “I know that we met at my older brother, Johnny’s, exhibition, and I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings you might have from my character that night. I’m sure we can try again, right? A friend of Johnny’s is a friend of mines.”

You press your lips into a thin line; when he’s dressed in casual attire, he takes the appearance of a casual, everyday boy, someone you might have met in college, someone in a different social class - someone authentic and normal, yet he still has the same intensity that he holds in suits worth millions by Hemsworth, even in comfortable clothing. “Of course we can,” you tell him, to which he relaxes, a wider grin displaying on his face and urging the dimple on his cheeks to form deeper. “Thank you for the domaine de la romanée-cont, by the way, it’s my favourite.”

“Just a lucky guess,” Jaehyun smiles at you. “I remember that was the drink you held both times we came across each other.” 

You ignore the feeling of your heart slightly skipping a beat, gulping down a sip of the wine down your throat; Irene’s voice is booming within your head now. “You have a very good memory, Jaehyun.” you say, taking a sip of the sauvignon, the familiar taste flooding your tastebuds. 

“Just the important things,” he says, chuckling to himself as he takes a sip of his champagne. “So, what brings you to the island of Cebu?”

He talks to you so casually, but his eyes drip with intention, staring into your own eyes and unending; it was as if he was mocking you - mocking the lack of power you had compared to him. “My friend, Irene, and I volunteered at an orphanage in Cebu City,” you tell him, setting the glass of wine down in front of you. “What about you, Jaehyun? Are you following me?”

Your eyes widen when you hear the words fall past your own lips, bringing a hand to your mouth in shock as you yell blasphemous words inside your head. You watch his face, waiting for his reaction to your rudeness, but he just lets out a lighthearted laugh, eyes forming into crescents as he bellows out whimsical notes. “I’m actually here for a business venture,” he tells you after his laughter calms down. “But perhaps I should be the one asking that question, hm, (Y/N)?” 

His voice is teasing, a smirk playing on his lips; you swallow your words instead trading them for nervous giggles. “Maybe we just have the same mind, and similar thoughts.” you tell him, adding a small smile at the end of your sentence, looking directly into his eyes. He raises his eyebrows for a nanosecond, as if an expression of surprise took over his face, before he lets out a deep chuckle.

“I hope so,” he says with a simper, voice slightly deafened from the sounds of guitars and basses reverberating off the walls of Palermo. Just as you open your mouth reply, his phone emits a loud ringtone from his pocket, causing him to tear his eyes off of you. He digs for his phone from his jeans pocket, glancing at his screen and seeing his face fall for a split second before he stands up. “I’m afraid our conversation might have to end early. It was nice seeing you here, (Y/N). I hope we can meet again soon.”

You ignore the slight disappointment emerging from the bottom of your throat, taking in a deep breath. “The same to you, Jung Jaehyun,” your voice is hushed. He nods once, smile bright but brown eyes concentrated, a juxtapositioned expression. His action is delayed, eyes lingering on your for one more second, before he pivots on his heel and marches towards the doors of the restaurant. After watching his retreating figure through the glass doors walk around the corner, you let out a sigh of relief, looking down at the glass of wine he had purchased for you, the liquid now sitting near the bottom. You question yourself on the emotions you felt while conversing with him, chalking it up as a side-effect of constant travelling and having no sleep. 

“Hey, sorry, I’m back, Seokjin called,” your best friend finally reappears, taking her seat in the seats Jaehyun had been in just a few mere seconds ago. Before she turns to hang the sling of her purse on the backrest of the chair, she notices your half-drunk wine glass and eyes you with sharpened eyes. “Started drinking without me, hm?” she quips.

You simply just let out a laugh, fingers twirling the stem of the wine glass as you avoid Irene’s gaze, terrified of her knowing, because you cannot form words. Not when the only image that lingers in your mind is the enigma of Jung Jaehyun’s breathtaking, umber eyes burning into yours.

-----

If you had to pinpoint out the few days you dreadfully loath in a year, you would pick the days Fashion Week is active. 

It is not that you dislike Milan; it is an alluring, beautiful, celebrated city, with copious choices of museums such as the Sforzesco Castle, architecture and cobblestone roads rather gothic yet stunningly vibrant and electrifying, and how could you possibly forget the beautiful view of the Navigli and Darsena districts when the lanterns are lit the moment the stars come out, the sight alone bringing back memories of European romance movies and dialogue to begin playing in your mind. It is a beautiful, wonderful city - but just the name being simply uttered, along with New York, Paris, and London, brings flashbacks that you would rather avert.

The warmth of the sunlight spilling through the crème curtains would usually leave you energized and ready for the oncoming day, yet, somehow, it only puts a kink in your attitude as you groan dismally, longing for just a few more hours of sleep. Perhaps it was your alarm tone whose snooze button you kept missing everytime you would reach for the device, the obnoxious tone emitting constantly, or perhaps it was the horde of screaming stylists and the feeling of your manager pulling your legs out of bed, but you couldn’t bare to close your eyes again and instead of the smile you often wear on your risen face, a slight scowl plays on your lips. Sitting up on your plush mattress with knotted muscles, your stylists have already begun to pull you out of bed, along with your cries of lament. You had barely even rubbed your eyes to rid of the rheum that lined your eyelashes from your few hours of sleep before they had forced you down in a makeup chair, pressuring you to look at yourself in a circular mirror lined with LED lights.

Oh, how horrid, you thought. 

This years theme was Bridal, much to your mother’s dismay - she had believed in an old superstition that wearing a wedding dress before you even have the chance to get married only brings bad luck in your love life; but after she had seen the paycheck that would be wired into her account after you walk down the runway, her mind seemed to forget about the superstition altogether. You eyed the several pimples that had found their way onto your forehead in scrutiny, knowing that the makeup artist will most likely opt for a lighter look to fit the theme. 

“Don’t worry, the pieces you will be wearing will take the attention away from your newfound friends.” a teasing, familiar voice makes their way into your ears as you feel two hands resting on your shoulders. You perk up at the voice and look past your reflection to see Johnny’s friendly face, grinning ear to ear as he laughs at his own joke. Rolling your eyes, you lightly slap his hand on your right shoulder, cracking your first smile of the day. 

“I didn’t know you were coming, Johnny!” you exclaimed, turning around to face him. He was clad in a Raf Simmons cropped sweater with black trousers by Helmut Lang, the sense of casual attire yet the prices of the simple looking fabrics were more than ostentatious. He ruffles your unstyled hair with a mischievous grin. You and Johnny have grown closer in the months since the two of you met, constantly texting each other back and forth; it has gotten to the point where you consider him a best friend, right beside Irene. “You should have texted me!”

“That would have ruined the surprise!” Johnny laughs, walking towards the table in front of you and leaning against a spot where makeup wasn’t littered everywhere. As the makeup artist begins their work on your face, laying and spreading out tones of beige and browns and the slightest hints of pink, you and Johnny converse naturally. 

“So are you the only one that came?” you ask as you watch the makeup artist brush the slightest of coral toned blush onto the apples of your cheek; you’re unsure if it is Johnny’s presence that helped you become fully awake or if it’s due to the work of the artist, but you are positively impressed with how you look so far. 

“No,” Johnny pauses while he digs through one of the bags of makeup opened on the desk. You had solicited constantly to meet Johnny’s husband, Ten, only ever hearing about him through Johnny’s own words and stories - you wanted to meet him, especially since you had heard he was a big fan of yours. You gasp in surprise at his answer, joy setting down on your shoulders when you realize you might be finally meeting your friend’s lover, but it is swept from underneath you in just milliseconds. “I brought Jaehyun with me.” 

“Jaehyun?” you repeat after a few beats, to which he nods. 

“Yep, you know, my brother,” Johnny says, an unknowing smile gracing his features when he glances at you. “He had actually told me that the two of you bumped into each other in the Philippines; he wanted to come to fashion week to support you.”

“Oh…” you respond, trailing off. “Well, that’s very nice of him.” 

“It is,” Johnny confirms, returning the nude lipstick by MAC back into the unzipped bag before digging around again. “It’s quite peculiar, really. Ever since father appointed the chair to Jaehyun, he’s been… quite antagonistic towards me, but ever since his trip to the Philippines, he’s been… alright. Perhaps the merger with PunoLaw went splendidly.” 

You ignore the flip that your heart makes in your chest while the makeup artist sweeps streaks of highlight upon your cheekbones; there could be a number of reasons why Jaehyun’s temperament had gotten better - a simple exchange of greeting and a purchased drink of wine means nothing in a business trip to a foreign country. 

“Johnny,” you starts off, and he hums in response. “You don’t have to answer, but… have the both of you always had bad blood?” 

“I’m sure as someone next in line for the CEO of a company, you have obligations, right?” Johnny lets out a soft sigh, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he patently probes his mind for the correct words. He sets down the lipstick tube that he had been toying with and looks straight at you, a serious expression on his face. “Well… Jaehyun deals with these… obligations... differently. He’s always been a rambunctious man. He grew up thinking that the company would be passed down to me, so he didn’t care much for his own image - so when the news came out that he would be leading Jung & Associates in the future, he just… lashed out, he became slightly more antagonistic to everyone around him. He was never trained for that position, and he still doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Johnny pauses. “He’s just afraid.”

“Ah…” you hum after a short pause, your voice hanging in the air. As next in line for the executive position for Decoré, you are responsible in retaining your clean reputation; you were to be immaculate with your choices, you were expected to stay absolute and virtuous, they wished for you to hold a record that is the epitome of every parent’s wet dream. The constant demanding of these obligations, as well as the constant invariable conversations of marriage and children from your mother, takes a toll on your own wellness daily; you can never say what you truly want to say, you can never do what you truly want to do. You can never underestimate the press when they hone into your every action, words, glances and body language forged into the world with printed ink and a mass of pixels. One slip of character, and it could mean the end of the empire that your great-great grandmother had established. As you stare into the mirror, hairstylist taking over as they brush your hair with a flat comb, you think to yourself; perhaps Jung Jaehyun is just misjudged, perhaps his true reasons for his actions may not be what the media observes. Irene was not the sole heiress to her family’s fashion institute, so she does not know of the demanding expectations that comes forth with preparing for an established company to be in your hands; perhaps she heard of idle conversations of those envious and took their words of spite as gospel.

As time passes, you quickly come to when find yourself lined up backstage along with other models walking the catwalk. The show had just started, the piercing sound of classical piano music blaring through the speakers deafening to your ears as stylists make last minute touch ups on your makeup and dress. You are adorned in a beautiful metallic white dress by Valentino; the top made entirely of chiffon, with a low cut neckline, diamonds formed to cover your chest area. The skirt, made of tulle fabric, is decorated with strewn diamonds, every move you make sending each jewel to swing, making it look as if you had just bathed in a pool of gems. The billowy sleeves are also strewn with diamonds, you can already see the brilliant reflections of light against the harsh LED bulbs above. 

Your hair is pulled back into a braided low bun, your veil, attached to the bottom of your bun, trails behind you for meters, acting like a cape.; you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you draw closer towards the front of the line. You suck in a deep breath; you’ve walked countless runways in the past, it’s like a fluent language to you - straight back, intense eyes, just an inkling of attitude - yet, your mind seems to be in a haze, and you can comprehend exactly why. As the last model before you makes her way back behind the stage, you close your eyes momentarily, letting out a puff of hair, before setting off through the doors. 

Your fists relax, hands swaying by your side as the bright lights pointed towards the catwalk causes your dress to glimmer in ways you would only predict ever seeing in fantasy movies. You keep your face monotonous, taking in the audience’s gasps of delight and pleasure at the sight of your dress, the familiar sounds of cameras clicking over and over again proving louder than the booming violins blaring through the speakers. Your lips are flat, and expression featureless as you make your way to the very front of the catwalk - this is the dress’s show, and not yours. You see Johnny in the audience, camera in hand as he takes a few shots of your walk, but it is the man beside him that causes your eyes to slightly widen.

He looks far too beautiful, as if he should be the one walking the runway. His ash blonde hair is slicked back but in the way as if he had forked his dry fingers through his locks rather than wet with gel. He is dressed in a suit made of crushed velvet, also by Valentino, trousers highlighting the curves of his thighs, a pure black button up shirt underneath his velvet blazer. The people seated around him were focused on observing him and attempting to catch his attention rather than to give their attention to the piece that you displayed for them; but he - not paying one glance to your gown, not one glimpse to the veil that flowed behind you, not even regarding the rude chatter emitting around him sparked by his presence - keeps his eyes gazing into yours.

The feeling alone is enough to make you lose your breath, the sight of his deep, teasing eyes causing you to open your mouth slightly, urging you losing track of where you were supposed to be. But just as your lips lightly part, you force them closed in panic of feeling your muscles twitch at the movement; you watch as an amused smile plays his lips, before he crosses his arms over his chest. You tear your eyes away from his, pivoting on your heel as you make your way to the back behind the stage - but even through the chiffon fabric of your veil, you can feel the all-too familiar feeling of Jung Jaehyun’s eyes lingering on your form.

The after party is far too congested to your liking, and even though the air was rich with air conditioning, your skin feels moist to the touch after having to weave your way through hordes of people dancing and chatting with each other. You had traded in the wedding dress that you wore for a shorter light pink chiffon dress by Valentino that ended right before your knees, your feet are already sore from the heels that you’ve been wearing the entire day. You wonder if Johnny might be present at this party too, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to weave deeper into the venue through more crowds nor are you sure if your feet have enough vitality for a couple more steps. 

“Leaving early?” a distinctive voice causes you to halt before you can walk through the exit. You turn your head, ready to face impact before facing Jaehyun. He has a small smile on his face, cradling a coca-cola can in his hand. “If so, can I leave with? I lost Johnny in the crowd.”

A smile appears on your lips. “Johnny is over six feet tall, I find it hard to believe that you lost him, Jung Jaehyun,” you tell him, quirking your eyebrow, to which he lets out a chuckle, glancing down at his coca-cola. “But yes, you may join.”

The next few minutes are a flurry of exchanges with the guards at the door and retrieving your coats from the lobby. As you walk through the exit doorways, you can only sigh in content when the cool, December breeze kisses the clammy skin of your neck, sweat accumulated from the overcrowded afterparty. It is twelve at midnight, and the streets house only a few people walking up and down the cobblestone roads. You’re glad that your manager had packed a pair of Tory Burch flats for you in your purse, your heels finally getting the rest they need as you turn towards the direction of your hotel, but the reminder in the form of a person speaks before you could hobble off.

“How long will you be staying in Milan?” Jaehyun finds a pace in walking beside you, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his black Burberry trench coat. You take your arms and pull the front lapels of your tweed coat by Gucci. 

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,” you tell him, looking at the streets in front of you. The stars were on display in the night sky, and lamps have lit up, dimly illuminating the roads. You can feel the heat radiating off of Jaehyun as he listens intently to you; your stomach flips with an emotion that you cannot decipher. “Mother wants me back in Seoul before she begins clearing the pieces for her collection releases by Spring. And you?” 

“I’ll be here until Tuesday,” he says, in a tone of dread, the both of you slowing down your walking pace. “Jung & Associates are establishing a branch here, I’ll just be doing the finalizations - then I’ll be back in Seoul.” 

You look at him in surprise. “Really?” you question. “How interesting.”

“Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again on the streets of Myeong-dong.” he grins, kilowatt smile spreading across his face causing his dimples to form on his cheeks. You eye them before looking away, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up - you still had to be careful around him, you are unsure as to what his true character is really like. 

You let out a hum. “You know what, Jung Jaehyun?” you start off in a hesitant teasing tone, unsure of how to interact with him; you didn’t want to accidentally set him off, in case Irene was actually correct with her hypothesis, however, you weren’t sure if Johnny was telling the truth either, details far too vague for your liking. “I’m starting to think you’re actually following me.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air as the two of you round a corner, the Navigli canal coming into view, lit up by the streetlamps that litter beside it; it was breathtaking scenery, it never fails to cause your heartbeat to quicken whenever you catch sight of it - everything about the view is romantic. He walks towards the body of water, strolling to the concrete railing. He halts, growing silent, eyes fixated on the number of stars illuminating the night sky. Even through all the dim light posts, you are still able to see the glimmering spots shining outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. You watch the back of Jaehyun’s head as he shoves his hands inside the pockets of his coat. Hesitantly, you approach him, coming to a pause beside him just as you see the profile of his face; his eyes are trained solely on the stars, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. Turning your head to look at the stars with him, the both of you stay in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Sometimes,” you’re the first to break the silence, eyes still training on the stars. “Whenever I stroll past this canal, I envision those classic movies filmed in Europe; a confession of love near the body of water, a kiss in the rain surrounded by romantic architecture.” 

You are unsure as to why those are the first words that fall past your lips, but you let out a dreamy sigh, scenes of Audrey Hepburn to Marilyn Monroe, recollecting portrayals of old-school love play in your mind. Jaehyun looks away from the sky, switching his gaze towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“You yearn for love?” he questions you, and you giggle softly, crossing your arms over your chest as a chilling breeze kisses your neck. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” you question him, eyes trailing along the gothic architecture of the streets of Milan. “I’ve dreamt of it since I was a little girl, but everyday, it seems as if my chance at finding it grows more impossible.” 

Jaehyun is silent for a few seconds, you can still feel his eyes lingering on your face. “And what if you’ve already found your love?”

You gulp, biting down on your bottom lip. Your eyes cast downwards towards the body of water before you open your mouth. You aren’t sure why, but your heartbeat bangs against your chest painfully, and your ears are heating up despite the fact that the air is chilly. You let out a sigh, fog of condensation escaping your lips. “I mustn’t.”

“Why not?” 

“Because my mother will defy the man I choose,” you pause, a pitiful smile finding its way onto your face. “I know that I will be forced to marry someone from her inner circle to ensure Decoré’s future. I don’t have a choice in this matter anyway,” you let out a chuckle before turning to him, his eyes training on yours. “The position comes with disadvantages, and it makes me rethink my options even though I’ve ached to lead Decoré all my life.”

“But that does not mean you shouldn’t live,” he trails off. “Just because your life is led by responsibility… doesn’t mean you should avoid love.” 

“There’s no other way, Jaehyun,” you tell him. You extract your hands from deep within the pockets of your tweed coat and press your palms again the concrete railing before you form them into fists. “I’m sure that you understand as well, your company is being handed down to you - you have an image to uphold, right?”

He grows silent. “Yes, I do.” 

“Love is a risk that I’d rather not make.” you say. You have dated in the past, once in middle school, with a boy named Jeon Jungkook, a short relationship that lasted for only three days, and your first year in college, with a boy named Kim Mingyu, which lasted deftly for eight months - both relationships, of which, weren’t serious at all. Kim Mingyu was your first kiss, and first time; you remember the crushing disappointment at the lack of sparks that flew between the both of you each time your bodies were pressed against each other. Additionally, your name has been caught in multiple articles since the beginning of forging your model career that articulated dating rumours with you and innumerable celebrities and other of the elite class, all of which had been false. The feedback that you received during those times were immensely painful for you, and you worked hard to keep your reputation clear since then.

“But life, itself, is a risk. Is it not?” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed, but his eyes are not directed towards you, instead training on the Gothic buildings situated opposite from where you are standing, on the other side of the canal. You press your lips into a straight line, furrowing your eyebrows together as you think of his sentence, not knowing how to reply.

As you open your mouth to finally answer, a familiar tone emits through the air. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and grabs his vibrating phone, letting out a sigh when his eyes land on the screen of his phone. Turning to you, he outstretches a hand towards you for you to shake, a gracious smile on his face, dimples in full view, but his eyes are still dull. You take your hand and enclose your fingers around his, deja-vu as you memorize the warmth of his skin around your cold hands, before weakly shaking his fist.

“I have to go,” Jaehyun says, putting his phone back into his pocket, not accepting the call. You find that peculiar, but it is not your business, so you do not press. “I’ll see you when I get back to Seoul?” 

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Yes,” you tell him. “I’ll see you then.”

And as you turn to part ways, he lingers his gaze on you only for a second more, before pivoting on his heel. Just outside the doors of your hotel that you stayed in while in Milan, the only image that clouds your mind is of the last gaze that he had given you, almost certain that he held longing in his pupils, and as you think of the lasting image that haunts your brain, you are reminded of your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, this time, accompanied with the slight excitement that rises in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The cool, frigid, January air laces into the studio, entirely made of hard concrete, excluding the various set pieces spread around the area. You lay on top of a long, woven seat, bare legs, hair standing up in defense of the chilly breeze, hanging off the side of the arm rest. You are draped in only an oversized, pure-white shirt, the fabric blanketing your sighs and sleeves barely able to hang onto your shoulder; clickings of camera ensue, underneath the humming bass of the Frank Ocean song blaring through the speakers. Today was the day you had finally scheduled your photoshoot with Johnny, eager for the outcome as you let your head slightly hand from the other side of the woven seat.

“Point your chin just a bit upwards, (Y/N),” Johnny tells you from off the set. Johnny uses a particular method of photography, using natural lighting from outside to create an authentic ambience in his photos - the only window in the studio was a large, panoramic one that had the most beautiful view of the garden. His studio is located on the Jung premises, in its own little estate behind the main house; when you had walked through the main gates you had felt completely intimidated by the domineering aura of the house, much larger than your own - it took up nearly two football fields,  and it was then when you realized how powerful this family really is. “Okay, there, perfect!”

The humming of the bass of songs emitting from Johnny’s playlist as well as the clicks of his film camera are the only sounds that emit between the both of you as you try out different poses, boudoir poses come naturally to you. Johnny had given you one of his own shirts to use as clothing, the oversized fabric hanging off you loosely. A break ensues halfway through the shoot, at five p.m., almost three hours since you had begun posing. The sun has already set an hour ago, winter nights a longer span than winter mornings, and you desperately had the urge to pee, having downed an entire bottle of water before the shoot due to your adrenaline.

“Hey, Johnny?” you ask while he reviews his photos. He looks up towards you in curiosity, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Where’s the bathroom?” 

“Oh,” he says, setting his camera down before he begins to use charades as a way to give you the directions. “Down the hall, on the third left, fifth door on the right side. If you want, the lower bathroom is a lot more cleaner.” 

“No, it’s alright,” you let out a laugh, before walking out of the studio. When one would say the Jung Estate was big; it was big. Multiple hallways and multiple doors make up the interior of the estate, and it wasn’t even the main house on the Jung premises - this estate was only slightly smaller in size compared to the large castle-like structure that stood before the front gates. It seemed a little silly to you - who needs this many rooms? You were almost sure that Johnny and Ten, who you finally had the fortunate chance of meeting earlier that afternoon, were the only two who resided in this house - yet it’s so vastly empty, not even one inkling of a server or butler. 

You follow the directions that Johnny had given you just a few minutes ago to no attempt because before you know it, you are lost in a daze of paintings and golden decals. He said third right, right?, you thought to yourself as you look around. You weren’t even sure which direction your had come from, the diminishing sunlight from outside beginning to darken the hallways. You let out a sigh as you take a chance, figuring that if you were wrong anyways, you’d just be greeted to an empty room and you’d have to force your bladder to not erupt for a few more minutes until you’d finally find the bathroom. You push a large, mahogany door open, the creaking reverberating off the marble walls of the hallway, and then you pause.

“Jesus, Johnny, can’t you knock?” his voice seems aggravated while he’s hunched over a desk, face buried into a stack of paper. “I told you, I’m doing paperwork right now. I’m b-” 

His eyes automatically widen when he looks up towards the door, eyes snapping to yours. A plane of glass covers his eyes, entwined with a golden frame as they perch neatly on his nose, ash blonde hair in messy ruffles, obviously having had his fingers run through them numerous times throughout the night. He wears a simple, basic, white button up shirt, with simple black trouser bottoms, the most casual attire you have ever seen him wear; yet, he still looked stunning. However, his eyes are boring right at you, the pen in his hand freezing from writing letters as his pupils begin to slowly move down your body.

“Jaehyun,” you finally let out a breath, stammering as you slowly back away from the doorway. “Sorry, oh my gosh, I’m doing a shoot with Johnny right now and I was trying to find the bathroom… um, I got lost.” 

His jaw visibly clenches and you see his adam’s apple bob against his throat before standing up and lightly swipes his hands on his thighs. “Don’t worry about it, I just got taken aback.” he gulps, as he begins to walk towards you, adjusting the glasses that perch on his nose. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Your face immediately flushes, eyes, if not already at their widest, widen even more as you let out a gasp. You have never felt a fabric of clothing cause your stomach to explode in your life, yet, for some reason, that was the only feeling you could muster as you feel the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt brush against your thighs. “I’m sorry,” you apologize once more, letting out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t know this was your shirt. Johnny said it was his.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air. “The nerve of that man, he still continues to steal my clothing for props,” he shakes his head, tsking. “Here, I can show you where the bathroom is - this house has so many unneeded rooms, it’s silly.” 

You follow him through the corridors; the sun had already set completely, the moon now shining above that casts into the hallways through the lined windows. The sound of Jaehyun’s shoes swiping against the floor and the dull sounds of the pads of your feet hitting the marble flooring is the only noise heard in the air between you both, your face still sprinkled with hues of red from the feeling of the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt brushing past your thighs. He walks you into the other hall across from where you had opened the door to his room, and stops right in front of a door similar to the ones around it. 

“Here you are,” he says, pivoting on his heel and pushing the door to the bathroom open, the door creaks as it slightly cracks ajar. You let out a sigh of relief, grinning at him. “You just turned the wrong way, but fortunately you found me, or else you’d probably still be lost in the hallways.” 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” you tell him graciously, pulling the front of the shirt you are wearing to make sure that your sleeves don’t slip past your shoulders and show them bare. He gives you a silent nod before he begins to walk back to his study room, but you gasp and grab his hand, slightly pulling him back, to which he freezes, turning towards you. 

“What is it?” he asks you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. You are only thankful that the hallways are dim, you can practically feel the heat of your cheeks radiating off your skin. 

“S-Sorry,” you stammer; you seem to be apologizing to Jaehyun repeatedly that night.“I didn’t mean to touch you - that was really rude of me. It’s just… can you wait? Um, I don’t know how to get back to the studio and it’s… really dark, and the hallways are slightly creepy.” 

His worry sets on his face for only a second longer before his lips form into a small smile, eyes forming into slight crescents as he nods. “Of course,” he says. He rests his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom. “I’ll be right here.” 

You give him a grateful smile before walking into the doors of the bathroom - you first catch yourself in the mirror, face a deep shade of red as you inwardly cringe at how fast the boy had taken you off guard. Slapping your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to calm your heartbeat panging against your ribcage, you let out a few gasps of air. Washing your hands before opening the door again, you only will yourself to keep your stance calm and cool around Jaehyun, but you know that will all crash to the floor the moment you turn the doorknob.

When you step out, you see that Jaehyun is still waiting beside the door, his back pressed against the wall as his thumbs swipe at the screen of his phone. At the crack of light that emitted from within the bathroom, he finally looks up at you with a smile, turning the screen of his phone off with a click and standing upright. You are unsure of what to say, words seem to be caught stuck in your throat every time you look at him. 

“I can walk you to Johnny’s studio,” he lets out a laugh as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his trousers before he runs his hands through his hair, ash blonde locks falling onto his forehead one by one. “I never thought you’d be the type to be afraid of the dark, (Y/N).”

Again, you are unsure of what to say, only letting a giggle fall past your lips in response. Fortuitously, your stomach seems to be dashing around in circles as you watch his eyes trained on yours, shadows of the corridor darkening the edges of his face and the pale moonlight from outside causing his cheekbones to come out even more angular. His eyes are darker than ever, as he watches you, and even though it is dim, you are almost sure the corner of his lips twitch upright. Your breath hitches in your throat and in blushing panic, and so you twirl around, hoping for him to simply catch on and lead you back towards the studio - but his booming, baritone voice, much like the first time you had heard him speak at Johnny’s exhibition in October, causes your step to falter.

“Are you going to do something with the way you look at me?” 

It’s ironic how the weight of a few words can change the entire dynamic of an established acquaintanceship; merely a pin dropping on the ground and detonating into flames to burn down the walls that had already been put up, built with blocks composed with intimidated hesitance and lethal attraction. The inflection of his voice weaved through the air like a ribbon made of silk before devouring your nerves, sending jolts through your body in ripples, breath becoming hitched in your throat as an all too familiar emotion that you’ve been forcing to push down, that you’ve coaxed yourself into feeling mystified about, begins to rise in the pit of your stomach. His words echo through the long, dark corridors before they come to a halt, silence seducing the air between your bodies, but you stay frozen, and your lips stay unmoving. You hear him step closer, the heel of his shoes slightly clicking against the marble flooring, and it sends waves through your body again.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low, stern, the same voice you had heard the night you had heard him speak at Johnny’s photography exhibition.

Your breath shakes when you finally part your lips. “Yes, Jaehyun?” you stammer. 

“Answer my question.” he whispers. He stands close, you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric that drapes your body. The tension that dances between the both of you is thick, emotions of both excitement and yearning burning in your chest. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and it urges you to squeeze your thighs together to combat the aching need between your legs. 

“I should be the one asking you that, Jung Jaehyun, since you practically fuck me with your eyes every time we meet.” the tone of your voice is surprising to you when it falls past your lips, your hand snapping to your mouth as you widen your eyes - you hear him chuckle lightly behind you just seconds before you feel the pads of his fingers dance on the back of your neck, gently moving your hair onto one shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you were capable of speaking like that,” his voice juxtaposes his actions, laced with intent. He presses his warm hands against the white fabric on your collarbone before he slides it down to bare your shoulder, the cool air of the corridors causing your thin hairs to stand up. “Always so polite and careful, I wanna know what other noises fall past those pretty lips of yours.”

He roughly turns you around, as if a switch were flipped inside him - it’s only now when you have taken in how tall he was, even if he were slightly shorter than Johnny, his physique was large compared to yours, and that excites you. His umber eyes penetrated yours as he takes his glasses off and sets them on the top of his head before he uses his forefinger and thumb to force you to look at him, proud smirk playing on his lips. His domineering attitude, and your want for challenge - they both crash together like fire, flames licking at each other to create even larger chaos. As you gaze into his eyes, breath rattling your ribcage, you are finally able to discern the emotion that swam within his pupils, an emotion that had befuddled you since the first time your eyes landed on his. Desire. 

“You make me go so fucking crazy,” he whispers before his lips dart to your neck, peppering wet kisses along your jawline. You let out a gasp when he nips at the skin of your neck, the ache in your panties growing stronger every time his tongue flicks out to soothe a spot. He cradles your cheek in his hand as your lean your head back to give him more space, yearning for his touch. You feel the warmth of his hand he had used to cradle your cheek cascading down your body roughly, hovering over your breasts as he continues to lap at your neck.  “God, ever since the first time I saw you, the things I’ve been thinking about doing to you - and now here you are standing in one of my shirts, and, fuck.”

You buck your hips, cupping his cheeks as you push him away from your neck to force him to look back into your eyes - his eyes, sharp, cuts into yours, the meager sight causing an aching throb to pulsate through you once more. “Tell me the things you’ve thought about doing to me,” you whisper, tracing your thumb over the plumpness of his bottom lip, you bring him closer to your face - you feel his hot breath on your lips. “Tell me, and then do them to me.”

A sigh escaped his lips before they finally come to meet yours, enveloping yours against his own in a flurry of desperation - you hadn’t realized how much you hungered for this moment until the feeling of felicity settled within you, your longing moan dancing into his mouth. Perhaps it was his own desperation too that had been building up for months leading up to this moment, perhaps it was the sound that escaped from deep within your lungs that excited him, but his hands rush to cup your sopping panties causes a gasp to escape from your mouth. “I’ve imagined you like this,” his voice is a whisper when you pull away at the sensation of his fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. “Whimpering for me, begging for me, trying to keep yourself quiet.”

Short gasps escape from you as he continues to work against the thin fabric, adding more and more pressure as he moves his hands in circular motions. “J-Jaehyun,” you moan, trying your best to keep yourself quiet. You don’t want your whimpers to travel down the hallway and possibly lace into Johnny’s ears - the act would be mortifying to you. “What if Johnny sees us?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he grunts, hand roughly toying with your clothed clit. Your hips buck against his hand, and if it weren’t for how needy you felt, letting this man have his way with you, you’d be ashamed at how wet you’ve already become, soaking through your panties. Slowly, he moves them to the side before he glides a finger along your bare entrance; sensitive already, you shudder. “Fuck, look at you, so fucking wet and ready. You want me that bad, (Y/N)?” 

You sink your lips into your bottom lip, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. Your face is hot, blushing as his tongue flicks out from between his lips to lick them. He continues to glide his long finger against you, eyes boring into yours as he does, watching as every expression of eagerness flashes across your features. His forefinger mockingly dips into your entrance for a fleeting moment, the sensation of him inside you one second and gone the next causing you to mewl out in frustration. He lets out a dark chuckle as you furrow your eyebrows, willing yourself to keep it together.

“I asked you a question, darling.” he mumbled darkly, dipping the tip of his forefinger inside of your sopping heat once again. “Answer my question and you’ll get your prize.”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you bite back your moan when he dips his finger inside you again, taunting you. Your breathing becomes heavy with every dip he makes, aching for him to do something about the need inside of you, bucking your hips against his hand, soaked with your juices. “I want you so bad, I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jaehyun, fuck, please.” 

He lets out a dark chuckle beside your ear before he plunges the fullness of his forefinger inside of you, a gasp escaping you at the sudden entrance. He pumps the single finger in and out of you with ease, spreading your legs wider with his knee; he has large hands with long, slender fingers, the sensation of just one doesn’t meet your fancy, but it’s enough to relieve the itch that had begun to build inside of you. “Fuck!” 

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, watching your face contort into pleasured expressions, condescending smirk turning into an enchanted one, lips parting and eyebrows turning upward. He adds his middle finger, spreading your pussy wider as he begins to pick up the pace of his thrusting, arm flexing as the moonlight hits the veins that decorate along his forearms. “Shit, (Y/N), has your tight cunt been fucked before?” 

All you could muster out was a whine as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, your mind nothing but a fog of haze while he reaches deeper and deeper into your core, as if he were planning to leave his mark inside of you. You had been fucked before, by your last boyfriend, Mingyu, but not like this - never like this. Foreplay was never on his mind, giving you pleasure was something he had never thought of doing; you barely even remember a time he had given you a leg-shaking orgasm, which, if Jaehyun continued to reach inside of you like that, you’re sure you’ll have your first one by tonight. “So fucking tight, all for me, isn’t that right, darling?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” your voice is thin, still attempting to keep yourself hush, not wanting the immoral act to be known to your friend just a few doors down the hall, still waiting on your return from your break - but you’re almost sure that the lewd, wet noises of his palm slapping against your wet cunt that echoes against the pillars and golden framed paintings that line the corridors may prove your wish hopeless. Jaehyun’s fingers brush against the spot that causes your legs to shake, and with a knowing glint in his umber eyes, he continues to brush against it. “Jaehyun, shit, right there, fuck! Fuck, yeah, just like that!”

He heeds to your words, the tips of his fingers grazing against your g-spot repeatedly, and you feel yourself unravelling. It takes all for you to not let your eyes roll to the back of your head, screwing your eyes shut as you focus on his fingers stretching your walls out in a steady, rough motion; walls beginning to clench around him, you feel your desired orgasm coming. “You’re gonna cum, (Y/N)?” he questions you as your walls quiver around his digits. “You’re gonna cum just from the use of my fingers alone? Dirty girl, tell me who owns this cunt.” 

A hot sigh leaves your lips, barely focusing on his voice due to the yearning of your release. Whining, you open your eyes again to look into his, begging with your pupils to get him to continue, but his face is monotonous. “J-Jaehyun,” your voice is weak. “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Answer my fucking question, (Y/N), or else I won’t let you cum at all,” his tone is dark, which gives you all the more to whine as he picks up the pace of his fingers, sinful noises filling your ears. The act alone causes the knot in the pit of your stomach to unravel just a little more, and Jaehyun leans down to bite the skin of the crook of your neck. “Fucking tell me who owns this dirty little cunt, (Y/N).”

“You do,” you whimper, voice juddering with every thrust his fingers make. “You do, it’s yours, it’s all fucking yours! P-Please!” 

“It’s all mine?” he taunts you, he’s panting now as well, digits flashing in and out of you at a speed you weren’t even aware that a human can make. “What is? What’s all mine?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” you whine in aggravation. The aching need to orgasm causes the strain you’ve put on your words to escape, voice loud against the marble walls. “It’s yours! This cunt is all yours! It’s fucking yours! It’s yours to fuck and, and, it’s yours t-to… fuck! I’m coming!” 

It hits you in waves, the feeling of pleasure enveloping your body as you feel your pussy pulsate against his hand. You crane your neck back as he continues to lap at your neck, leaving memoirs of his presence in the form of soft-red markings across your skin. As the orgasm leaves your body, you are left with quivering legs, barely mustering the energy to hold yourself against the marble walls, much to the man’s amusement. It’s obvious what the two of you had done; his hand glistens with your juices against the light of the moon that travels through the planes of glass across the hall; the fabric of the shirt that he had adorned was wrinkled from your pulling and clenching of fists; your lips, that had been painted a deep shade of red prior, were now a lighter red, and Jaehyun seemed to have the same shade on, and the lingering fluid that escaped from your cunt during your orgasm lines across your inner thighs. 

As you come down from your orgasm, his lips find their way to pressing against yours once more, gentle in touch this time. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him close, closer than you had ever thought of him being. You feel pricklings traveling through your nerves as his tongue enters your mouth, and you find yourself yearning for more just before he pulls away, panting heavily. As he parts his lips to speak, you hear footsteps walking down the hall, and you gasp, pushing him off of you and adjusting your attire and hair, letting the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt fall past your thighs to cover the residue of what had just happened. Jaehyun watches you with an amused smile on his face, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers and grabbing the glasses that stayed atop his head and perching them back on his nose again, carelessly brushing his pure-white sleeve against his lips that causes the dark lipstick that you had stained his face with to rub off. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear Johnny’s familiar voice call just before he comes around the corner, the flashlight of his phone dashing around the corridor. He turns to the corridor you and Jaehyun both stood in, jumping in shock for only a second - possibly thinking he had come across ghosts - before visibly relaxing and walking towards you in his confident gait, his phone still flashing in the darkness. You squint, terrified that he might be able to deduce what happened between the both of you with the torchlight. “God! You were gone for so long! I heard yelling! What happened?” 

“She got lost trying to find the bathroom, and I scared her.” Jaehyun lies with ease, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. You eyed him for a few seconds, gaze lingering his body - he seemed so casual, as if what had just happened sprung only in your mind, but you are still able to detect a trace of your MAC lipstick on the side of his lips and the messy waves of his hair that your hands were entangled in. Yet, you were still appalled at how easy the lies fell past his lips. “She started yelling at me, it was really funny.” 

“Jaehyun, you bastard,” Johnny sighs, sending him a sharp eye before turning around and patting your hair down. For a second, he squints towards your lip, and you fear that he found the first clue of what the two of you had been doing, but he seems to ignore it, eyes flashing back up to yours. “If you want me to beat my brother’s head in with my camera, I’ll be happy to do it.”

You open your mouth to answer but Jaehyun’s voice interrupts you. “Hey, if it weren’t for me, she would still be lost in your stupid winding corridors,” he gruffs, crossing his arms over his chest; the action highlights the muscles underneath the thin fabric of his shirt but you will yourself to look away. “She’ll just have to owe me. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?” 

His voice has a hint of amusement in it, tone lighthearted as he sends you a smile with crescent-shaped eyes, and your heart jumps in not lust, but with something else you have yet to figure out - but you’re aware of the hidden connotations of his sentence, the feeling that Jaehyun had reached into your core slightly coming back at the thoughts that race around your mind of images of him. You only nod, throat going dry, before smiling simply.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you heed his words, and for a fleeting second, an amused smile on his face shone with a lordly flame. “I owe you.”

-----

The night that you laid in bed trying to daze into slumber after your first encounter with Jung Jaehyun proved a sleepless one, one that kept you rolling over and over again in your plush bed, constantly flipping your pillows and kicking your duvet out of sheer frustration. The memories of Jaehyun’s sinful words and breathy grunts, recalling his fingers flashing in and out of you, brought back the itch inside of you like no other; you only fell asleep after finding solace in your own fingers, and even they couldn’t cause you to reach the heights Jaehyun had shown you.

You do not tell Irene; you couldn’t tell Irene, and you shouldn’t tell Irene, because you are certain that she will blow a gasket the moment the man in question’s name leaves your lips because you did not listen to her. You have never lied to your best friend before, nor have you ever kept a secret from her - but it is for the best for the situation. Besides, you and Jaehyun were only using each other for each other’s body, to let desires that shouldn’t be exhibited in public out - at least, that’s what you believed, and your best friend doesn’t have to know that. Yet, each time she walks to your side with an indication of concern in her brow, you find it hard to keep your secrets locked within your lips.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” asks Irene, her voice muffled underneath the soft chatter of a high-end lounge she had invited you to. You stare down into the liquid of your tonic water, choosing something non-alcoholic in order to keep your honesty and deceit under control. “You’ve been really quiet lately. Is there something troubling you?”

“No worries, Irene,” you muster a small smile, genuine enough to see her body relax as you swish your water in your glass. It’s grating to know how effortless it was for you to lie to her. “Nothing is the matter. I’m just a little tired from my schedules lately, I’m really sorry if it’s been making you uncomfortable.” 

She pouts slightly, not quite believing your tale. “(Y/N),” she tells you, grabbing your hand. You felt guilt shake through your nerves at her touch - but you cannot tell her about you and Jaehyun, even if your life depended on it. “Don’t worry about me, okay? If something is the matter, tell me, okay? I’m your best friend - your sister - for a reason.” 

“Of course, Irene.” you say, the fib falling past your lips and disappearing into thin air. She nods once, a concerned gaze lingering on you for only one last second before she tears her eyes off of you to look back at the menu on the bar in front of her. Irene had invited you to accompany her at a new lounge that had opened up in Myeong-dong, apparently owned by a good friend of hers named Lee Taeyong. Seokjin was due to show up in a few minutes after a scheduled meeting, and according to Irene, may have in tow a friend of his that ‘you may be interested in.’

As she turns her attention towards the menu, you find yourself gazing back down at your tonic water, watching as the liquid swashes against the clear collins glass, soon becoming bored with it. Your eyes then find themselves exploring the sight of the lounge in front of you - you and Irene sat right in the middle of the lounge, at the bar, the sleek black marble table rounded as baristas around inside the circle juggle around alcoholic drinks and other platters to deliver to their patents. Outside of the circle, there are multiple seats with tables, occupied with several gentlemen in suits and ladies covered in Dior. The extravagance of it all was very familiar to you, for having grown up in an environment much like it, regardless; you would be lying if you were to say you hadn’t grown tired of it.

“Oh, they’re here!” Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze and look towards the entrance in front of you, Seokjin’s familiar face coming into view as he hands one of the servers his Burberry coat; behind him is a man not much shorter than him, jet black tufts of hair and sharp observant eyes. For a second, you feel your heart race in your chest - whoever Seokjin had brought is definitely a beautiful man, and perhaps Irene was right about taking an interest in him, however, you shouldn’t jump before you had talked to him. 

“Hello, darling, hello (Y/N),” Seokjin embraces the two of you before he stands out of the way to pull in the man following idly behind him. Upon closer inspection, his facial features are some of the most sharpest you’ve ever seen - his eyes, obviously sharp from a distance, are cutting up close, jawline whetted and embracing against his sleek lips. You feel as if you’ve seen him before, but you can’t pinpoint where. “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s currently filming a movie under Kim Productions right now.”

The familiarity hits you like a train as you recall seeing his face on your screen many times - he’s a very celebrated actor in South Korea, especially so since he had broken into the Western film industry. You weren’t much of a big fan of movies, finding yourself falling asleep no matter the genre or amount of stars the movie acquired, but you know a famous face when you see one. After he greets Irene with a kind smile, you stretch your hand outwards to address him, a gracious simper on your face. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doyoung. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

You and Doyoung are quick to become close, letting the engaged couple next to the two of you converse to themselves. As the night drones on and as people in identical Brunello suits and Dior dresses pile in and out of the lounge, you and Doyoung share stories of your childhood, finding out that he wasn’t born into the world of money like you were, instead having to find his way up and through the industry by making sacrifices. You discover that he has an estranged relationship with his parents, instead finding familial solace in his brother who is also an actor, named Gongmyung. You learn of his hobbies, that he enjoyed singing and reading, and find out that before he had pursued the world of acting, he had thought of heading into the direction of law and government. 

For an hour and a half, you find yourself delved into the person that is Kim Doyoung, realizing that this is discussion prevails information of most people you know other than your two closest friends. In the middle of a conversation on the topic of college, you begin to abandon the lingering memories that had been taking up your mind by the man who had left remnants of himself in it. Perhaps, you spoke too soon.

“Kim Doyoung,” the familiar voice sends jolts through your body as if it were an involuntary impulse. You tear your eyes from Doyoung’s sharp, yet friendly gaze and let them sink into Jung Jaehyun’s soft, but intense ones. He is dressed in a plain black button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he cradles a glass of cheval blanc, arm adorned with his Daniel Wellington watch, hand deep in the pocket of his black trousers. His hair is slicked back but to the side, few strands swaying against his forehead. A smirk plays on his lip, and the sight of it makes your thighs clench in response. “It’s been a while since we’ve last met.” 

“Jung Jaehyun, long time no see,” Doyoung’s voice holds restraint when his eyes meet Jaehyun’s, a look of revolt flashing in them before he stands to his feet to bow. “I heard that Jung & Associates will be under your command soon. Congratulations.” 

“Yes,” he concurs, taking a sip of his champagne as he pulls up a chair next to Doyoung. He has not looked at you once since arriving into the conversation, but something about his tone of voice leads you to think he is blatantly aware of your presence, such as you are of his. “And I heard that you starred in a film that was nominated for an Academy award? How delightful. It was the one with the zombies, right?” 

Doyoung sets his glass of sauvignon blanc onto the bar, gulping down the liquid. “Yes.”

“Well, congratulations to you.” a haughty smirk guised as an amiable smile makes its way onto Jaehyun’s face before his eyes finally land on you, training on your face for a few seconds before they begin to slowly make their way down your form clad in a tulle minidress by Marchesa. “(Y/N), a pleasure to see you here.” 

“Jaehyun.” you nod once, tightening your fingers around the stem of your wine. “It’s nice to see you here too. The two of you know each other?”

Doyoung looks up from his glass, towards you. “The two of us were in multiple classes together during college, before I dropped out to pursue acting,” he explains. He seemed apprehensive, and you acknowledge why - the presence of Jaehyun is far too strong to bear. “We are very close friends. I see the both of you are close, as well.” 

Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he says anything. “Actually,” you say, correcting him. “Jaehyun and I are just acquaintances - we know each other through his brother, Johnny.” 

“Ah, I see.” Doyoung nods, before he begins occupying himself with sips of his wine. Through the awkward silence, you turn your gaze to Jaehyun, whose eyes train on you with an emotion you can only decipher as need, a knowing glint in both of his pupils. Flashes of his fingers disappearing in and out of you play through your mind, and you cross your legs together to combat the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“So what brings you here, Jaehyun?” you ask the man after he orders himself another glass of cheval blanc; Doyoung, in between the two of you, stays silent. 

“I just finished a meeting with Park & Kim Law, and was about to head to the exit when I saw you and an old friend conversing, and I thought, why not?” he says, leaning forward on both of his elbows to direct his gaze fully onto you without the diversion of Doyoung’s head. You quirk your eyebrow for a nanosecond at the fleeting thought of a law firm meeting taking place at a lounge, but you let it go. “And you, (Y/N), what brings you and Doyoung here? A date, perchance?” 

His voice is soft, but with the slightest inkling of venomous jealousy, quirking his eyebrows as the words leave his mouth. “No!” you find yourself saying far too quickly, an amused smile making its way onto Jaehyun’s face. “Doyoung and I actually just met, we’re here with Seokjin and Irene.” you turn around to face the engaged couple who were sat next to you, deep in conversation as if they were in their own world. You turn back towards Jaehyun, whose eyes were not looking at yours, but are now gazing at someplace lower. “Actually, I was just about to leave. I have a schedule tomorrow morning.”

“I see,” Jaehyun hums, his top teeth sinking down into his bottom lip as he listens to you. He turns to Doyoung, resting his jaw against his fist, almost taunting him. “Will you be accompanying her, Doyoung? Drop her off at home?” 

Doyoung lets out a sigh as he takes another swing of his wine, looking up towards you, the nervousness behind his eyes since Jaehyun had arrived replaced with a flame. “I’m afraid I still have business to discuss with Seokjin,” he says apologetically, straightening his back and turning his body fully around to ignore Jaehyun’s presence. “If I could, I would gladly drive you home - the streets aren’t safe this time of night.”

“It’s alright, Doyoung,” you let out a laugh, setting a hand down on his shoulder - as you do, you feel Jaehyun’s eyes burning through your hand. “I’ll just call my chauffeur, which, speaking of calling, may I ask for your number?” 

He complies, and you let out a shaky breath as you feel Jaehyun’s gaze lingering on your skin growing stronger and stronger; just as Doyoung hands you your phone back with his newly added contact, Jaehyun stands from his seat. “I can drive you home.” 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise before a slight smirk makes its way onto your lips. “You don’t have to, Jaehyun, really,” you tell him, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’ll just call my chauffeur - they are always on duty.”

“No, I insist,” Jaehyun speaks, far too quickly to save face. The tips of his ears are red, much to your pleasure; he’s jealous. “Doyoung is right, the streets aren’t safe this time of night, and I think it would be better for you to come with me considering that we already do have an established knowledge of each other - plus, it’s what Johnny would want for me to do. What’s your address?”

You simply quirk your eyebrow at him before standing up from your seat and collecting your things, reciting your address as Jaehyun puts it into a GPS app on his phone. As you turn towards your best friend, deep in conversation with her fiancé, you apprehensively tap her on her shoulder. Irene turns towards you in the middle of a sentence with a look of wonder on her face when she sees you ready to go. Searching for the will to lie to her face once again, you force your shaking breath to calm. “Hey, Irene, I have a really early schedule tomorrow - I’ll be leaving, alright?”

“Oh, is Doyoung taking you home?” asks Irene, eyes flashing to the jet-black haired man still seated on his stool, staring into his glass. You shake your head.

“No, Jaehyun will be taking me home,” your voice is nonchalant enough to not raise suspicion, but Irene’s eyebrows raise in disturbance the moment his name slips from your lips. She leans forward to spot Jung Jaehyun on the other side of Doyoung, already throwing on his tweed coat as he sends her his usual gracious, kilowatt smile. She leans back to you and parts her lips to ask why he had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, as well as why you were so casual in leaving with him, but you cut her off. “Don’t worry, Irene. If anything happens, Johnny will beat him up. It’s fine, don’t worry.” 

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Irene is wholly worried, grasping your forearm as she pulls you forward, closer to her, speaking in a hushed tone. “Seokjin and I can drop you off instead.”

“Irene, I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I don’t want to ruin your night, okay?” You let out a sigh, straightening your back again and giving her a radiant smile of deceit to tell her that you will be alright. She lets out a huff of air in defeat, nodding her head. As you pivot on your heel, you keep your head turned towards Irene as you begin to walk towards Jaehyun, hands already buried in the pockets of his coat. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Of course.” Irene says with a tight lip. Your eyes flash towards Doyoung, who watches you with eyes filled with an emotion you cannot decipher, before you flash him a smile. 

“Doyoung,” you nod your head. “I hope to see you soon, as well.”

“Of course.”

The cool January air obnoxiously hits your exposed legs the moment you step out of the lounge, the VIP parking lot littered with snow as you trail behind Jaehyun’s large form. You hear the jingling of his keys and the tone of his car beeping not too far ahead; he was quiet, and it caused a tension to seduce the air between the two of you. He opens the passenger side of his sleek noir Mercedes to let you climb in before rounding to his side, slamming his door closed. The purr of the engine is smooth as it glides down the city streets, flashes of flight originating from the tall buildings above decorating the skin of your thighs. A few moments later, you’re the first to part your lips. 

“Jaehyun,“ you start, voice calm, but your intentions are clear; teasing lightly laces your words.. “Is something the matter?”

He takes a few seconds to answer, you see his jaw clenching before he opens his mouth. “No,” he simply says. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you can’t bear to keep the growing smirk off your lips. You play with the hem of your Marchesa dress, the tulle thin between your thumb and forefinger. “It just seems as if you’re… angry. A little tense.” 

“I’m not,” Jaehyun’s voice is calm, harmonized by the low purr of his engine. “Just a little confused as to why you seem so interested in Kim Doyoung.” 

You quirk your eyebrow as you listen to his tensed words, as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. You let out a scoff. “I’m not interested in him,” you trail off, watching the city pass you by as Jaehyun begins to near your estate’s territory. “I’m just… a little curious.”

“I can promise you, (Y/N),” he mutters. “There is nothing about that man you should be curious about.”

“Really?” you challenge him, turning to look at him again. The lamp posts that litter the streets highlight his facial structures in a way you have never seen - sleek cheeks cut from his high cheekbones, warm brown eyes cast shades darker; you never really noticed how long his eyelashes are, kissing his under eyes. “The way you jumped to steal me from him leads me to believe that there is.”

You watch as his lips slowly curl into a wry smirk, letting out a huff of air as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Are you presuming that I’m jealous, darling?” he lets out a chuckle, eyes turning into crescents but his tone is sinister. You press your thighs together. “Is that why you were suddenly so pursuant in flirting with him in front of me? You want to make me jealous? Because I saw you moments before I arrived and you were merely chatting with him like a normal friend - it wasn’t until I sat on that stool when you began to feel his arms through his blazer.”

An amused smile plays on your lips as you look back out the windshield window, seeing that he has arrived to your gates. The guard that mans the metal doorways only wakes up from his slumber to press the button that opens it, Jaehyun slowly driving his Mercedes through your gateway. 

“The fact alone that you had been watching me and analyzing the touches I gave him says a lot, Jung Jaehyun,” you say in a hushed voice as he pulls up at the front of your house. The lights of your home were all turned off, signifying that your mother isn’t home, and neither are any of the maids - it is a Saturday after all. You turn to him, a teasing smile on your face, seeing that he had already been gazing at you. “But if you’re not jealous, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let him fuck me until I can’t walk.”

When Jaehyun’s lips mesh into yours in a flurry of desperation, the words that you had let fall past your lips fly out the window, his hands on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer towards him over his console. He unbuckles his seat belt before he turns his entire body to you, lips parting as his tongue enters your mouth; you let out a moan as he does, combing your fingers through his ash brown locks. 

“Not here,” you whisper, pulling away, his eyes opening before he looks at you in worry. “I want you to fuck me in my bed.”

The seconds it took for you and Jaehyun to climb out of his car, walk up your marble stairs, fish for your keys inside your purse blindly as the two of you continued to kiss each other before finally unlocking the door proves worth it as the rashness of his actions heightened the moment you shut the door behind you; he presses you against the whitewood and attaches his lips to yours again, hands set on your hips as you ring yours around the back of his neck. He smells of saffron and jasmin, slightly quiet moans escaping from his throat. 

“Fuck,” he says, playing with the hem of your dress, trying to pull it down your body but the handmade strains deem too sturdy. “Get this shit off.” 

“It’s Marchesa.” you pout, his eyes lingering on your lips, plump from kissing his own. 

“I don’t give a shit what it is or isn’t,” Jaehyun grunts. “I want it off of you. Now.” 

You heed to his word, reaching for the zipper on the side of your waist as you connect your lips to his again, the neckline of your dress relaxes, and as his tongue dances with yours, he slowly begins to slide your dress down your form. He pulls away to look at your figure, wearing only a lace black bra with matching panties, and he lets out a grunt. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, hands travelling up your body to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. His lips are close to your ear before he begins to kiss spots on your neck, tongue moving languishly against your skin. “God, I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

His words cause you to suck in a breath as you tighten your thighs together, and he seems to notice, a deep chuckle forming from his throat. You lean your head to the side to allow him more space to your neck, your hands travelling from his broad back to the front of his chest, trailing down towards his jeans. When you feel how stiff he is through the denim material of his pants, you pull away from him. He looks at you with wonder, your hooded eyes and smirk ringing clear to him as you slowly begin to push him towards your staircase, having him sit down on one of the carpeted steps while your knees touch the cool marble flooring of your entrance hallway. 

“You said it yourself, I owe you, don’t I?” you whisper as you unbuckle his belt. He watches you as you do, enchanted with the way your fingers moved to free his cock from their strain. When you finally release his stiff shaft from his underneath his boxers, you practically salivate at the sight - he was long and thick, the tip of his head pink in desperation. When your lips wrapped around his cock, he sinks his upper teeth into his bottom lip to keep a moan from escaping his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as your tongue slicks around his throbbing tip. 

You keep your eyes trained on his face, taking in every sinful expression that makes way on his angelic features; it should be a sin to look as angelic as he is but have the most sinful sounds fall past his lips - but the thought excited you. Ever since you had first seen him, Jung Jaehyun had looked like nothing else but like an art piece from the Romantic era had come to life ; with his gentle yet captivating umber eyes, to the way his lips curl as if he was always hiding a secret - to see him in such a filthy, obscene circumstances caused you to yearn for more. Even as you begin pumping your mouth around his cock, you yearned for more; for him to bury himself deeper into your throat. 

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, fuck, that’s it, take my cock into your pretty little mouth,” Jaehyun grunts, raking his fingers through your hair to form a makeshift ponytail, holding your head steady against his crotch. He begins to slowly rock his hips up and down, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, lewd noises emitting from the back of your throat; you look up at him through your eyelashes with pleading eyes. He fucks into your mouth slowly, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, but deeply, hissing at the feeling of your throat spasming every time the tip of his cock grazes against it. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck, your throat feels so good.” he grunts as he does one long thrust, feeling your mouth around the entirety of his cock, burying it deep in your throat for a few seconds. As he keeps it there, relishing in the spasming of your tongue and the swishing of your saliva, your gag reflex threatens you, and you clutch at the flesh of his thighs for support, screwing your eyes shut. He slides out, strings of saliva connecting your plump lips to the base of his cock as you cough out in strained breaths; your eye makeup has already began to run down your face. “Such a good girl aren’t you, letting me fuck your mouth?”

Your eyes are trained on his when he stands up from his seated position, keeping your position kneeled down on the marble floors; biting your lips stained with saliva and lingering droplets of Jaehyun’s pre-cum, you nod meekly which causes a smirk to spread on Jaehyun’s lips. Your eyes trail down to his cock again, wanting it back in your system, but he seemed to have other plans as he hauls you to stand up by your hair. His other free hand makes its way to your clothed pussy, pressing against the moistened fabric, taking in the way your eyebrows furrow in hunger. 

“Look at you, such an eager whore,” He chuckles, hot breath pressing against your ear as his middle finger slides against the thin fabric pressed against your sopping heat. Your hips buck against the teasing single digit, and he lets out an amused laugh at your desperation. “All this just from my fingers? All this because I fucked your throat? Who made you this wet, darling?” 

You only focus on his finger sliding against your clothed folds, your eyes hooded as you clutch your hand against Jaehyun’s forearm. It’s when he tugs on your scalp again, forcing you to look into his eyes, when you realized he had asked you a question, dark eyes burning into yours. You open your mouth, breath shaking at the little contact. “You did, Jaehyun.” 

“Shit,” he grunts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs, left, very last door.”

He wastes no time in sweeping you off your feet, letting out a light gasp as he effortlessly carries you up the stairs, following the directions that you had given him, your legs dangling while you wrap your hands around his neck, lips attaching to his skin. He kicks your bedroom door open, and throws you on top of your blankets. When your back hits against your familiar plush mattress, you spend no time in recognizing the comfort you had grown up in as Jaehyun quickly pulls your panties down your legs, getting onto his knees on your carpeted floors. 

The moment you feel his warm tongue glide through your wet folds, you gasp out his name, throwing your head back at the unfamiliar sensation. Your toes curl as Jaehyun’s tongue circles around your clit, nub sensitive causing you to buck your hips forward; your fingers make their way into his hair, grabbing at his ash blonde locks to bring him closer. Your ex-boyfriend, Mingyu, had never given you this type of pleasure before, your few times together only ever resulting in a quick blowjob and dull sex that would only last for a few minutes - you have never been on the receiving side of oral, nor have you ever felt your body ache with pleasure at the most bare minimum things. Every touch Jaehyun puts on your skin spreads through your body like fire, and you want it more and more.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet,” Jaehyun peppers the inside of your thigh with memoirs of his lips in the form of deep red bruises, the tip of his middle finger slowly tracing over your slit, coating his digit with your juices and of his saliva. You shudder at the familiarity of his fingers against sliding through your folds, having yearned for them inside of you again since your own couldn’t reach as far as he could - and when he eagerly slipped two fingers inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. He grins as he hears the sinful sound. “Jesus, so fucking tight.”

He leans forward once more, reattaching his lips to your pussy, his tongue sliding against your clit in circular motions while begins to move the digits in and out of your slit, already having found a certain spot that led you whimpering his name. “J-Jaehyun,” you breathe out in short gasps, furrowing your eyebrows together as the sensation of his long fingers spreading you out racks your mind. “Fuck, Jaehyun, right there.”

He continues to fuck you with his fingers, tongue flashing past your clit in lewd motions - his hand travels up your body, goosebumps adorning your skin with each touch before he pulls down your lace bra, your nipples hardened against the cool air. He rolls your nub with his free hand, eyes trained on your face and taking in your expressions as the pleasure overtakes your body. He continues to graze the pads of his fingers against your spot, and your back arches off your mattress, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Are you gonna cum, darling?” he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, but his fingers continue to fuck into you. He looks up at you with taunting eyes and the sight only brings you to the edge further. The sight is enough to take you over the edge, the pads of his fingers grazing over your spot just one last time before your orgasm rakes through your body, your hips bucking against his still moving fingers - you mewl at his presence in your sensitive core. “That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that.” 

Your breathing is faltering, but Jaehyun wastes no time before he kneels onto your bed, the mattress dipping as you attempt to catch your breath. He peers down at you with a soft smile on his face, juxtaposing the lingering remnants of your juices and his saliva that frames his plumped lips. You only find peace for a fleeting moment at his tranquil expression before you feel his throbbing tip slide against your slit, the expression on Jaehyun’s face transforming into a teasing one. 

“Look at you, you’re a mess,” he taunts you, sliding his tip against your pussy, coating his head in your juices. You shudder at how close he is to finally plunging deep inside of you, but still being so far away. You whimper as he continues to do it, and although you’ve already had your orgasm, the aching need that had occupied the pit of your stomach since you had left your first encounter forming in your stomach again. “Jesus Christ, what will become of you once I give you my cock?”

“Fucking hell, Jung Jaehyun, just fuck me already.” you let out a frustrated whimper, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer, his body falling on top of yours as your lips move against his. He chuckles against them, before he positions himself against your slit, slowly pushing in. You pull away from his lips when he enters you, a gasp falling from your slacked jaw as he stretches you open.

“Jesus fuck, (Y/N), you’re so fucking tight!” he grunts when the base of his cock hits the mound of your pussy. You can do all but speak, eyes screwed shut as you clutch onto his forearms on either side of you. You’ve observed that he’s large before, but he stretches you out so well - he slowly begins to move his hips, and the slight pain begins to subside, transforming into pleasure. As you relax your body, you let out short gasps every time he thrusts back into you again. “Shit, you feel so good around me.”

You hear Jaehyun’s baritone voice, but it seems as if it’s located a million miles away, you floating bliss as you relish in the sensation of his cock sliding against your walls repeatedly. Each time he thrusts all the way back before slams inside of you again, you let out sharp gasps; his cock reaches into your core even further than his fingers already had, and it feels so, so good. 

“Look at you,” Jaehyun breathes as he picks up the pace of his hips, rutting into you at a faster speed, his arms pinned on either side of you. Your hair, usually styled and perfectly placed around your face, is splayed out in messy fashion against your cream sheets; your face is flushed with excitement and lust, jaw slack as profane noises fall past your mouth and into the hot air between both of your bodies; your eyes, usually so focused and attentive, are glossed over with desire, hooded as your tits bounce with each thrust Jaehyun drives into you. “So fucked out already. Doyoung could never fuck you this good, right, darling?”

“J-Jaehyun.” is all you are able to whine as he continues to fuck into you, hard and deep; the sounds of skin slapping against skin harmonized with the sound of the both of you breathing heavily is what occupies the space between the two of you. He pulls your hips higher, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you even deeper - the sensation of the tip of his cock grazing against you sensitive spot causes your nails to sink into the skin of his forearms. 

“Tell me again, darling,” ask Jaehyun, his hand moving towards your throat and gently wrapping his fingers around your neck. As he continues to drive his cock into your tight pussy, his voice comes out in strained grunts. “What did you want Doyoung to do to you?”

“F-Fuck,” you could barely form a word, each thrust he gives you causes all your thoughts to melt into obscurity, sentences jumbled into whines and moans. His clutch on your throat tightens and you’re almost sure your eyes are about to roll to the back of your head in pure bliss. 

“I asked you a question,” he growls, slamming into you again and again. “I expect you to fucking answer me.”

“I-I wanted him to,” You manage to squeak out a few words. “Fuck m-me until I c-couldn’t walk.” 

“And tell me, darling, who’s the only one who can do that?” he ruts his hips even faster than before, your bed squeaking as your mattress moves with every push he makes into your pussy. At this new angle, his the tip of his cock hits your spot perfectly, over and over again, a sensation that induces you to scream his name as you arch your back off the bed. 

“Jaehyun! Fuck!” you yell, hearing your voice echo against the walls of your bedroom - he doesn’t stop though - as you scream his name, laced with foul words, repeatedly, his cock continues to drive deep inside of your pussy, making sure he leaves a mark inside of you that only he can give.

“Fucking tell me,” he pulls his hand away from your throat to grab onto your face, forcing you to look at him. Tears of pleasure have began to spring against your waterline, falling past your lower eyelids and staining your bedsheets; your face is streamed with marks of your mascara and eyeliner, your lips plump from biting into them to refrain yourself from screaming his name. “Tell me, (Y/N), who’s the only one who can fuck you? Who does your tight fucking cunt belong to?”

“Y-You-” you whimper out in a quiet voice only to scream again when Jaehyun moves your hips higher, his cock driving into your deeper and harder than before. His grip on your waist is tight as he moves his hips; you’re sure to have bruises the next morning but all you could focus on at that moment is your nearing second orgasm. “Fuck, Jaehyun! You! It’s yours! Only you can fuck me, shit!”

“That’s right,” he leans back, yet another angle racking over your body, his throbbing tip hitting your sensitive core rhythmically. Sweat begins to drip from his forehead, his face glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom - even now, even through the indecent circumstances the two of you were in, he is beautiful. “Your pretty little cunt is mine, only mine.”

 “Y-Yes, Jaehyun, it’s yours,” you whimper, clutching at your bed sheets. What had started as a lonely night had quickly become one filled with the sound of slapping skin and a creaking bed, Jaehyun’s deep grunts music to your ears as you feel your walls spasm around his cock. A knot had formed in the pit of your stomach again, a sense that only Jaehyun had ever given you, and you feel your mind haze over. “J-Jaehyun, fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me baby,” Jaehyun whispers, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head as the feeling rakes your body, sending goosebumps over your skin - you hear Jaehyun’s moans becoming louder as you cum but they are muffled with the stir of your pleasure, seeing stars in the darkness behind your eyelids. Your body goes numb, core sensitive, but Jaehyun continues to fuck into you through your orgasm. “Fuck, baby, are you on the pill? I need to cum inside you.” 

You only simply whisper out a yes, voice shaking and broken from the screaming you had done all night, still caught in a daze from your orgasm, before feeling Jaehyun’s hips falter as he lets out a low groan. His thrusting slows and his jaw becomes slack, eyes directed downwards, at his cock connected to your pussy, ash blonde hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks flushed with both lust and exhaustion. He fills you up with his cum with shaking breaths, it is when he pulls out when you feel the warm liquid slip out of you. 

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you again, lips molding together as if they were meant to be pressed against each other - his hands, now gentle, caressing your hair and your hands cupping his face. The two of you have left memoirs of each other on the other’s body, and although you aren’t sure what the two of you quite are, the tranquility that fills the air when you look into his eyes after he pulls away from your lips, a gentle smile making its way onto his face before he pulls himself beside you against the plush pillows if your bed, only brings you an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

That night, when you fell asleep in Jaehyun’s warm embrace, as his heaving breaths slowly transition into a soft, rhythmic snoring, you are happy.

-----

Jung Jaehyun, to put it simply, is like a drug to you. If his presence is elsewhere, your body aches for him, almost begging for company even without your knowledge, and he knows it. The haughty smirk that you had grown used to ever since the first time your eyes laid on him had grown wider now, even more when his name is all you’re able to say whenever he drives his cock into your core. You’re selfish; almost every single night is a night spent with him, with your bodies pressed together in a dance between the sheets of your bed, or his bed, or whatever environment the two of you occupy. 

There was one time, only a day after the first time he had fucked you, when he had picked you up from your home - your mother believed that you were leaving for Irene’s house to pay her a visit, but she was awfully incorrect. You and Jaehyun never made it to where he was planning to take you, having parked deep in a bundle of trees, somewhere far where no one could find the both of you, before fucking you in the backseat of his noir Mercedes. His windows were tinted and the steam that had accumulated on the glass would prove it difficult to look through if anyone were able to find his parked car, but the rocking motion of his automobile probably would have proved your theory wrong.

There was another time, a week after the first time he had fucked you, when you visited the Jung & Associates tower deep in the heart of the city during the evening, when almost all of their employees had left. That night, he bent you over his mahogany desk and drilled into you ruthlessly, his necktie disposed of, wrapping it around your neck to keep you on your knees on top of the table, your soaked panties shoved into your mouth to muffle your whines and screams in case a few employees loitered around the office on the other side of Jaehyun’s door. 

And another time, your favourite time, when you had a flight to Los Angeles to oversee a branch of Decoré’s boutiques and their dodgy revenue, when a knock reverberated on the door to your penthouse, and upon opening it, you were greeted with the familiarity of Jaehyun’s lips on yours. He promised to fuck you on every surface, eager to see you coming undone on top of each piece of furniture laid out in your penthouse. You could barely remember that night; having had innumerable orgasms, each memory is a blur of lust and pleasure - but you can recall being pressed against the panoramic window that blessed you the view of all of Hollywood as he fucked into you from behind, deep voice reminding you of your blasphemy while people went on about their day below the two of you.

Your life is filled with responsibilities and expectations - you are expected to have a beautiful posture, a graceful expression, careful movements, and wise words; never to have a cuss word fall past your lips, never to have a revolted expression grace on your face. If you were to make one wrong move, the future of Decoré may be in peril - but with Jaehyun, as obscene as your actions with him are, you feel as if you are truly yourself. With his throbbing cock pumping in and out of your core, all your thoughts of maintaining your prim and proper reputation are pushed out of your mind, instead focused on raking your fingernails down the skin of his back.

Today, your hands are occupied with tugging on your Hermés scarf that you had wrapped around your neck, concentrated on cloaking the marks forged on the skin of your neck that Jaehyun had left with his lips the night prior. Today, there was yet another gala that you were invited to, some politician that your mother is acquainted with. To be excited is nothing close to how you really feel, knowing of the dull and tediousness that the rest of the night will consist of - you’re only thankful that your stylists didn’t force you into a corset again. You aren’t even sure why you had to attend, having no connection to the point of the gala except for your mother - you would much rather be at home, perhaps reading a book, watching a movie, telling Irene to accompany you, or perhaps texting Jaehyun to come over once again.

Your prediction for the night proves correct when you find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the venue, against the royal blue crushed velvet chairs as you stare into the liquid of your wine glass. You are adorned in a pure white dress by Elie Saab, and you were far too afraid to drop any of the desserts on it in fear of a stain, so you settle for just a simple drink instead. Tchaikovsky drones from the weary looking orchestra at the top of the stairwell, and you’re almost sure you’ve memorized each flat or sharp were located in the flurry of notes. Your mother, the social bird, is off conversing with other people that she’d acquainted herself with, a large, yet fake, smile on her face - it seemed as if no one your age was present, so you were grateful at the fact that her matchmaking business for you will be closed for the night.

You let out a sigh as the night drones on, the conclusion for the evening seemingly never arriving. You are unsure as to how the people around you seem to be enjoying themselves - Do people enjoy boring things as they grow older?you think, but you would never say it out loud. 

“I like your scarf.” 

The tone of voice automatically causes you to sit up straight, turning your head towards the direction it originated from. The man in question pulls up a seat next to you, a kind smile on his lips before sitting down on the crushed velvet padded seat. You quirk your eyebrow in surprise at his presence - you’d assume that he’d be someplace else, enjoying his night, but as you thought more about it, the environment fit his field of expertise.

“Thank you - it was a last minute choice, considering the circumstances.” you quip, setting down your glass of wine to tug at the scarf wrapped around your neck, careful to not expose the hickeys that dance against your skin. You’re unsure on how to act around him in public, you’re so used to letting your desires with him known that acting in your usual grace is unnatural for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually,” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side as he smiles, a dimple forming in his cheek, quirking his eyebrow as he lifts his champagne glass to his lips to take a sip. “I have a reason to be here, darling; the man who constructed this gala is a client of Jung & Associates. I should be the one asking you that.”

“Really?” you ponder on his sentence for a few seconds as you twirl the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “Hm, first time I’ve heard of someone’s lawyers attending an event that their client hosts.” 

“Well, he’s a very corrupt man,” Jaehyun says, turning his gaze towards you. Even just his stare causes you to feel a lustful desire - you cannot comprehend how much power he has over you. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s evidently guilty in a case of embezzling money and drugs underneath the guise of his campaign.” 

Your eyebrows slightly raise in shock, gasping lightly. “Oh my gosh, really?” you ask, before furrowing your eyebrows in wonder. “Why have you accepted him as a client knowing that he’s guilty?” 

“I was not the one who accepted him, darling,” he says, resting his cheek against his fist. His stance is relaxed, but his tone of voice seems to hold weight that you cannot pinpoint. “My father did - they were college buddies back in the day. Plus, you know what our kind desires - we all just want money, right?”

Your eyes slowly trail from his eyes to your drink, pondering on his words. “I guess you’re right.”

“Speaking of my father,” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed now, and uncharacteristically panicked. “Here he comes. Try to act casual, can you do that for me?”

“Of course.” you whisper back, getting ready to put your front on again, lifting your gaze just in time to spot the tall, broad-shouldered man walking towards your table. It’s a little jarring, really, seeing Jaehyun’s father for the first time; it’s as if Jaehyun had aged several years and had gone bald - the image in your head causes the corner of your lips to quiver humorously but you contain your laughter.

“Jaehyun, I’ve been looking for you since we entered this gala, there are people who would like to congratulate you.” his father’s voice is gruff, evident of experienced smoking. He barely pays attention to your presence, his eyes set on Jaehyun only, and the man beside you, whose gait is always dripping with confidence, seems to wane. You gulp as you look between Jaehyun and his father, the tension in the air appearing seemingly out of nowhere - bad tension.  

“I’m talking with a friend, father.” Jaehyun’s voice, all the stern that you have grown used to since hearing it for the first time, is softer. His father finally tears his glare at his son, his pupils snapping towards you, and suddenly, you understand why Jaehyun was acting menial. His father squints his eyes at you, observing you with scrutiny, and you let out a shaky breath before parting your lip.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” you outstretch your hand over the table for him to shake, and the older man simply glances at it before setting his eyes on your face again. Your front almost falters, your hand retreating back into your lap as you burn with humility. 

“Who are you?” he asks you, voice imperious. 

“She’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” Jaehyun answers for you. His tone of voice recovered slight dominance but his stance stays humble beside yours. “I’ve told you about her, remember?” 

“Oh yes,” Mr. Jung answers, jaw square as he peers down at you, familiarity in his eyes. “That fashion brand. How is that going?”

You’re confused at his question, having never met him in the past, but you answer anyway. “It’s going alright, thank you.” 

He nods once, finally tearing his weightful glare from you and returning back to his son. “Come now, Jaehyun,” he says, turning his body as a way to signal his leaving, waiting for Jaehyun to follow him. “There are people I’d like you to meet before your birthday next week.” 

You turn your head to Jaehyun in surprise. “It’s your birthday next week?” 

Jaehyun slowly stands from his chair, eyes slightly irate and training on his father, but his voice is gentle when he answers you. “Yes, on Valentines day.” He finally looks towards you, gaze softening when they land on your features, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion - why is he acting like that? “I have to go now, (Y/N). I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” 

“Of course.” you nod once, lips pressed tightly together as you watch Jaehyun’s form walk towards his father around the table. He gives you one last glance, a look that you cannot decipher, once again, appearing in his irises, before he turns his entire body from you, leaving you to sit alone.

As you watch his retreating form, you think of the newfound information that you had uncovered about Jung Jaehyun, of his birthday, and you realize that, although you know of Jung Jaehyun, that you know of the rumours surrounding him, and know of his body and what he’s capable of from the nights you’ve spent with him for the past month, you don’t sincerely, truly, know him.

-----

Jung Jaehyun does not talk to you soon; after the gala reached its conclusion, your phone remained silent for the following week, aside from Irene’s text messages as well as your mother’s phone calls to ask you how the house is going while she’s on a brief New York visit to oversee one of Decoré’s branches. Even Johnny, who would usually spam your notifications with the latest of internet memes, has been silent. For the following week, you wake up every morning to see if Jaehyun had contacted you, met with disappointment when you’re unable to find his name in your notifications, and you head to bed every night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d text you before you fall asleep. You are reluctant on whether you should worry or not - perhaps he’s busy, he is taking the clutches of his company from his father’s grasp, but it’s on his birthday, when you greet him with a text only to be met with a notification that he’s read your message, when dread begins to pool your stomach.

“Is there something the matter?” 

Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze while you stare at the screen of your phone. It brings you a case of déja vu for only a second before you finally look up at her, a strained smile on your face. 

“Hm? No, nothing’s the matter,” you act nonchalant, setting your phone back down in your lap as you cross your legs over each other. The two of you are seated in your bedroom, Irene splayed out on your bed as she hugs one of your pillows, and you at the stool of your vanity. “I’m fine, Irene. Why?” 

“(Y/N),” Irene sighs as she sits up, putting the pillow she had been cuddling down against your plush mattress. “You’ve been acting different since your visit to Milan.” 

“Have I?” you continue your front. It’s disgusting how easy you lie to her. “I feel fine, though.” 

“Look, (Y/N),” Irene lets out a sigh, and you inwardly cringe - you know that she isn’t buying your words. “It’s fine that you don’t want to tell me, I don’t wanna pester it out of you because it’s your business. However, just know, no matter what it is, I’m here to talk to you, okay? If you told me you killed a man in Milan, I will back you up. I’m basically your sister, I’m here for you always. Please remember that.”

Her words eat at you with guilt, and you tear your eyes away from her, suddenly finding solace in your hands folded in your lap. “I know, Irene,” you whisper, voice shaking. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you. I promise.” 

“Okay, now put your phone down,” Irene hops off the bed, a grin on her face. “It’s Valentine's day; you’re single, and my fiancé is in New York. Let’s go eat ice cream and watch romance movies.” 

The rest of the night is spent lounging on the large couch in your sitting room with your best friend, nostalgic scenes of love confessions and innocent touches playing on the screen of your large television. Your mouths were filled with spoonfuls of ice cream, giggling and squealing at the scenes, as if both of you hadn’t already memorized every line from watching it repeatedly since your early teens. When the main character finally melts into the kiss of their love interest, Irene grabs the cushion next to her and doesn’t hesitate to hit you in the shoulder with it, whining at how romantic the setting was, and you giggle loudly as your spoon falls from your bucket of ice cream onto the floor, the metal clanging against the marble tiles. For a few moments, you forget about your lingering thoughts, phone abandoned in your room upstairs, sitting on the cold wood of your vanity’s table.

“Oh gosh,” Irene jumps to her feet when she looks out the window after the two of you finish your third movie. The rain pangs against your window pane harshly, coating the glass in thick rainwater. “It’s raining so hard, I should call my chauffeur.” 

“Just stay over,” you tell her, still seated on the couch. Your home is like her second home, and her home was your second home; the two of you grew up surrounded by each other’s childhood, so her sleeping over isn’t anything new. “You can call in your chauffeur tomorrow, it’s raining really hard.”

She lets out a sigh. “I know, but I have to get up super early tomorrow in time for my bridesmaid’s gown fittings,” she takes a hand through her hair as she fishes for her phone in her pocket, hitting the contact for her chauffeur on her screen. She holds it to her ear, and apologetically, asks for them to pick her up from your home. After apologizing profusely and thanking them through her phone, she ends the call and lets out another sigh, grabbing her coat that she had splayed over the arm of your couch. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” 

You frown, but nod, standing up as you grab the empty buckets of ice cream on the coffee table and push your feet into your slippers. You head to the kitchen to dispose of the garbage and to wash the two spoons before putting them in the rack to dry. Your maids weren’t home, as it is a Saturday once again - you favoured cleaning your home though - although it was rather large, you find it relaxing. As the few minutes pass by, Irene’s ride has arrived at the front of your doors; she gives you a warm embrace before she takes her leave.

“Remember what I said, okay?” she reminds you of her words in your bedroom, to trust her with anything, and you nod once.

“Of course,” you tell her. “Have a safe drive home, alright?” 

When you close your door, you let out another sigh as the silence of your home overtakes your presence. The juxtaposition of the hustle and bustle of the nearby city, hearing honks of cars in the distance, is ironic to you as you head back to your kitchen; you felt as if you were isolated from the outside world. Having grown sheltered, with only a few close friends in order to protect your reputation, you’ve naturally become a homebody - when you’re not travelling for your own interests or for affairs pertaining to your job, you’re almost always found at home, sitting in silence. 

You sigh as you take out a nearly empty bottle of domaine de la romanée-cont from one of the cupboards in your kitchen, pouring just a little into a glass that you’ve found in another cupboard. Your mind flashes back to Jung Jaehyun once again, wondering if he’s enjoying his birthday, if he’s enjoying his Valentine’s day, pondering on why he hasn’t contacted you since you last met. You think, perhaps Irene’s words at the beginning were correct - he’s had his fun with you, and now he’s left you to pick up what he’s left behind; you quickly push the subject from your mind. After downing a sip of your wine, you dispose the glass into the sink, not bothering to wash it, opting to do it tomorrow, your mind occupied with getting ready for bed. Just as you turn into your entrance hallway to walk up the stairs towards your room, your doorbell rings. You let out a hum - Irene must have forgotten an item of hers before leaving. Your fuzzy slippers swish against the floor as you walk towards the white door, unlocking the latch before pulling the heavy door open. You part your lips to greet Irene, but what comes falling past your lips is a gasp instead, the sight of Jaehyun standing on your porch a shock to you.

His ash blonde hair is doused with rain water, droplets falling from the wet strands and kissing his shoulders, adorned in Saint Laurent that clings to his skin tautly. He’s panting, as if he had ran all the way to your house, and at the sight of his chest rising and falling rapidly, you believe that that’s exactly what he did. He steps into your home, his frigid, wet hands automatically cupping your face before he pulls you towards him, your lips crashing into his cold ones in desperation and ache. For only a fleeting moment, you melt into his kiss, but quickly regain your composure, pulling away from him. 

“What are you doing here?” you question him, pushing his wet hair away from his face. You look into his eyes, they seem red and swollen - like he’s been crying. 

“I came to see you.” he answers you, voice aberrantly frail - his breath is shaking with each inhale and exhale he takes. “I missed you.” 

“Jaehyun, what’s wrong?” you whisper, wondering why he’s acting this way - it’s his birthday, he should be happy, yet he seems so desolate, so crushed. “Have you been crying?” 

“Darling, please,” his voice is hushed, cold hands still cupping your cheeks as he searches your eyes. “I… I can’t tell you yet.” 

“Why?” you urge him on, desperate to know more about what he’s feeling, about what he’s thinking.

“I… I just can’t,” for the first time, he’s unable to come up with an answer to your questions - the doom in your stomach pools even deeper, but you hold onto the last lingering hope that burns in your heart. “Please, I just need you. I need you right now. I need you badly.”

It’s humiliating how simple words that slip past his lips could cause you to obey so quickly, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he closes the door behind him. Your lips crash against each other in a flurry of teeth and tongue while he grabs your ass, urging you to jump, before wrapping your legs around him. In haste, he carries you up the stairs, memorizing where to go after having been in your home several times in the same circumstances, before throwing you onto your bed. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck while he undoes the lace that ties your silk robe adorning your body. He unclasps your bra quickly, and you let out a sigh when he uncovers your chest, his tongue kissing the valley between your breasts before slowly enveloping his tongue around one of your nipples. “So fucking beautiful, so fucking innocent, so fucking good to me.”

You run your fingers through his drenched locks, brushing them back away from his face as his tongue flicks over your sensitive nipple repeatedly, his other hand doing the same to the other one, rolling the nub with the pad of his thumb. The sight in front of you, Jaehyun’s dark eyes boring into yours while his lips are occupied with your breasts, is breathtaking; your thighs press together intuitively, but once his free hand lets go of your breast, he gently pushes them apart. 

“Jaehyun.” you whisper when you feel his hand slip past the waistband of your shorts and panties, middle finger toying with your clit. He continues to lap at your nipple in circular motions, the sensation of his touch against your nubs causing you to breathe heavily. Slick with your juices, he dips a finger into you, watching your face when his middle finger penetrates you core. You let out a whine, an aching desire for his girth not met by his single finger, but it grazes against your spot which causes your whine to break into a whimper.

“So sensitive, always so fucking tight,” he pulls away from your breast, taking off his drenched shirt before kneeling lower to position his face in front of your sopping heat, slowly beginning to pull your shorts and panties down. In just a few minutes, you had already become drenched with lust underneath Jaehyun’s touch, heat rising in your cheeks when you feel his lips peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs. “I’ll take care of you tonight, darling.”

You still haven’t grown used to the pleasurable sensation of his tongue against your folds, finding yourself gasping in shock every time you feel him lick a strip against your opening. Your hands automatically find their way enlaced in his wet locks, bucking your hips against his face when his tongue grazes your clit. He pushes your legs further apart, lewd noises emitting from his mouth and your sopping core, hushed by the heavy rain hammering against the walls of your home. 

“Jae!” you let out a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue dip inside you, your fist clenching his hair to bring him closer as a low chuckle emits from his throat. Usually, he’d pull away and taunt you for being so eager, and continue to tease you by barely paying attention to the spot you needed him the most, but tonight, he continues to fuck his tongue into you, grip on your thighs to spread your legs apart burning. “Shit, that feels so fucking good!”

He replaces his warm tongue with two of his fingers, coated in a thin sheen of saliva before he pushes into you, tongue lapping at your clit. He knows your body so well, he knows what to do to push you over the edge and now, in just a few minutes, he’s already got you on the brink of your first orgasm. 

“Jaehyun, fuck!” you scream as he rapidly fucks his fingers into you, tongue violent against your clit. You spasm around his fingers, tugging at his scalp as your hips begin to tremble. He continues to fuck you, eyes casted downwards towards your fucked cunt, focused on bringing you over the edge. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a quick speed, his digits disappearing inside of you one last time before you scream once more. “Shit, I’m cumming!”

He slows his fingers down as you come apart around his digits, finger fucking you through your orgasm. As you let out one last sigh, he pulls his fingers out, wet with your lust, before climbing back up to your face to kiss you, lips wet with saliva and your juices. He moans into the kiss, hands needy as they knead your breasts, his tongue entering your mouth hotly. You flip your bodies over, you on top of him now, his hands moving down your waist to cup your ass. 

You lean back and he watches you with adoration - your heart flips in your chest for only a moment before lust fills your mind again when you feel his stiff cock against your thigh through his jeans. You move down, your turn to kneel on the floor in front of him as you begin to undo his pants. He watches you with his teeth buried in his bottom teeth, brushing your hair away from your face as you pull his cock from his boxers. You let out a breathy giggle at how pink his throbbing tip is before circling your tongue around it, earning a hiss from him before you fully engorge it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, yes,” he grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better view of you wrapping your lips around his cock, raking his hands through your hair. “Yes, just like that, suck my cock just like that.”

He goes crazy at the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the sight is enough to nearly push him over the edge - your innocent eyes, your hands that clutch at his every time you pump your mouth into him deeper, the way your eyebrows furrow when you gag on his tip. “So beautiful,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek, a sweet act that juxtaposes the situation. “Just like that, your pretty mouth takes my cock so well.”

You continue to suck his cock, your hands pumping the parts you aren’t able to reach - you can almost feel how desperate he is every time his tip hits the back of your throat, the throbbing clear. You weren’t used to Jaehyun being needy like this, being so gentle, taking his time - but the thought made you excited. 

“Shit,” he grunts when you pull away from his cock with a pop, moving your head lower to pay attention to his balls before licking a strip up his shaft. Just as you are about to wrap your lips around his cock again, he sits up, cupping your face. “Fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that.”

His lips find yours once again and this time, he’s the one to flip the both of you over. He rids of his jeans that had pooled around his ankles before he climbs into your bed, hovering above you as you spread your legs open, aching for him to finally be inside of you. You had waited for him for a week, you yearned for his presence all those days - and now you were finally being filled by the man you wished for. 

He slides his cock deep inside of your cunt before he begins to move his hips slowly, leaning forward to attach his lips to yours. You could never get enough of his cock, it was as if he was made to fit inside you just right, his tip grazing against your g-spot repeatedly as his tongue dances with yours. You moan into each other’s mouths, your bedroom filled with obscene sounds of saliva and skin slapping against skin. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your neck when he pulls away, hips gently rocking against yours. His cock hits you in just the right places, whines emitting from your lips as he continues to speak. “I want you to be mine.” 

“I am,” you answer, wrapping your legs around his hips in an effort to get him to thrust deeper. He nips at the skin of your neck as he ruts into you. “I’m yours, Jaehyun. I’m all yours.”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, only responding in deep groans, as he leans back to grab your legs, pulling them over his shoulder to find a better angle in fucking you. When he leans back, you’re almost certain you see tears formed in his eyes, but with you hips slightly lifted from your bed, the angle proving perfect as his cock hits your g-spot even more accurately, you find your thoughts slipping out of your mind when your muffled whines to turn into louder mewls. 

“Jaehyun!” you gasp loudly when he begins to pick up the pace, fingers gripping onto the skin of your thighs so hard that you’re sure they’ll leave marks the next day. You feel your walls begin to spasm around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your vision slowly begins to turn into a blur. “Jaehyun, I’m going to cum! Fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” he says through strained grunts. “I want to cum together. You’re on the pill right?”

You let out a meek yes as you attempt to hold your orgasm under wraps, finding it hard to do so as the tip of Jaehyun’s cock hits your spot over and over again - your body felt numb and all you wanted to do was to let go, your blurry vision suddenly becoming decorated with stars. “J-Jaehyun, I-I can’t hold it.”

“Yes you can, darling,” he cooed, bringing a hand down to draw circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb. The action has your legs trembling, breath hitching in your throat at the overpowering sensation takes your body. “Hold it for me, you can hold it right? You’re so fucking good to me, that’s why.”

“Jaehyun!” you let out a ripping scream, loud enough to hear it reverberate out your opened bedroom door and down the hallway. Tears begin to form on your waterline at the frustration of your waning orgasm as well as the desperation to let go, letting out a sob as he continues to fuck into you savagely. He drives into your pussy with full force repeatedly, pulling all the way out and snapping back in, and you find it so hard to keep your orgasm under control. “Jaehyun, please!”

“Fuck, baby,” he moans loudly, feeling your walls spasming around him in a frenzy. “Fuck, I love you so fucking much, fuck, cum for me. Cum for me, darling.” 

And you do as he says, finally letting go of your built up orgasm, the sensation ripping through your nerves and causing you to see an entire galaxy behind the darkness of your eyes. The tips of your fingers and toes burnt as if flames kissed them and your body is both sore and numb but with the greatest pleasure. Through the fog, you feel Jaehyun continuing to thrust his cock into you before stalling deep inside your core, spurts of his cum shooting into you and filling you up before he pulls out, streaks of white pouring out after him. 

The both of you come to, panting heavily, before his lips fall onto yours once again, bringing you into a passionate kiss. His lips are familiar to you now, and you cannot even begin to think of a time where they didn’t belong to you. He wraps his arms around you to bring you closer, head resting against your plush pillows before he pulls away. There’s a stray tear that falls from his eye, and you are unsure why it is there.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispers, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Jung Jaehyun,” you whisper, a smile forming on your face, kissing his forehead. The words feel right when they leave your lips, as if they were meant to be said by you and to be heard by him. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You press your lips against his for the final time that night, the electricity clear through the air when he relaxes into you. He smelled like roses, he felt like warmth, and he moved like honey. When you pull away with a gentle smile formed on your face, your thumb wipes away his stray tear, unknowing of the burning pain that had formed them in the first place. 

——-

Waking up to the absence of Jaehyun’s warmth, the bare sheets holding nothing  but the outline of his form, is nothing new to you to start the day with - often, after your affairs at night, the moment sunlight cracks through the night sky, Jaehyun would rise early to sneak back into his own estate in order to avoid a quarrelsome conversation with his father. Instead of waking up with his arms wrapped around your form and kisses against your forehead, you’d only be met with the kisses of sunlight that slips through your creme curtains grazing against your skin, and although you can’t deny the slight disappointment that brews in your stomach at the sight of his absence, you wholly feel a bit relieved every time you’d come to find a note that he’d left you just before taking his leave. 

Recalling your memories of the night prior isn’t an activity that you’re new to, either; you rejoice in the ghost touches left by their former presence as you reply the scenes of pleasure in your mind - Jaehyun’s lips against yours, tongues dancing together like wild flames, his hips rocking into you and fervent as if he wanted to become one with you. As your memories of the night before come to an end, your heart beat waned slightly upon remembering the way Jaehyun had acted. You recall the sight of tears lining his waterline, eyes red and movement filled with desperation and longing. You had fallen asleep before you were able to ask him about it, and he had left far too quickly for you to ask him after waking up.

When you tossed your legs over the edge of your plush mattress, the pads of your feet meeting the carpeted flooring, you had glanced towards your bedside table to see if Jaehyun had left you a note that morning, excitement bubbling in your stomach; the notes that he’d leave for you to read in the morning would range from the most romantic poetry, nothing but sweet nothings written on the page, to the most obscene, filthy string of words, degrading scenarios that he wishes to act upon the next time he sees you which would usually cause a throb to emit in your core early in the morning. Upon looking at your table that morning, though, your bedside table was empty; nothing but your usual reading lamp and phone resting atop the wood. You had furrowed your brows together in confusion at first before pushing the thought out of your mind, deciding not to ponder too much about it. Instead, you eyed your sleeping phone on the table, the device rousing awake with a text notification that had you reaching for it automatically. You had hoped it were the man in question that had occupied your mind since waking up, but you were met with a mere sigh when you see that it’s just your manager, reminding you of the day’s itinerary. 

Another day, another gala that you had to attend, and although this gala may prove to be important to your rise to the head seat of Decoré, you couldn’t help but feel tired of the constant jubilees you had to go to. Since returning back to Seoul from your short trip to California to overlook your boutique’s Los Angeles branch for your mother, you had delved into the planning and designing of your first few clothing pieces - you were excited, you truly were, since you had notebooks upon notebooks filled with your sketches and ideas for clothing pieces that ranged from gowns to the most simplest scarves. Yet, nervousness and apprehension is what eats at your stomach when you realize that your first ever piece, a gown the tone of lavender made entirely of tulle and lace, strewn with colourful flowers as if the sheer fabric had been dragged through a garden, is making its debut tonight. You were unsure what the event is for, only having heard from your mother that it reigns important for the history of Decoré; you knew what she really meant - it brings the company vast amounts of money. Even now, when you sit in a rounded table in the venue with Irene by your side, who had accompanied you for your own encouragement, you can’t seem to stop your fingers from twirling the glass stem that holds your wine.

“Irene,” you concur to your best friend, gulping down vast amounts the liquor Irene had fished for you. Your other hand was preoccupied from fisting at the Christian Dior dress that adorned your body, the strewn golden pendants that hung against the noir silk digging into the skin of your palms. Irene’s hands find their way to yours, snaking her fingers through yours for comfort as she looks at you worriedly. It isn’t that Irene’s presence doesn’t give you a sense of peace, because she’s been slightly successful at her attempts of giving you comfort since the night had started, but perhaps if your mother was here you’d feel a lot more at ease - but, evidently, the weather in New York seems to disregard your feelings, cancelling your mother’s flight back to Seoul that morning. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Yes you can, (Y/N),” Irene says in a hushed whisper, careful that other patrons that attended the jubilee won’t bear witness to a future chief executive going through a mild breakdown. She rubs the back of your palm with “You’ve dreamt of this all your life, and you worked so hard on creating this dress. Once the dress is revealed, your weariness will go away, I promise.”

You let out a deep breath at her words, genuinely thankful that she’s there by your side to help you. As you gulp, you nod at her. “Okay,” you huff. “You’re right… you’re right. I can do this.” 

The gala itself is nothing different from other galas you’ve been to - men dressed in their uniform fashion of black and white suit and ties, ladies dressed with the most expensive fabric that sweeps against the floor coupled with their moussed hair and glamorous eye makeup. Unlike most events that you’ve attended, the people that sit around different circular tables housing wine glasses in their palms are unfamiliar to you - you grew up in a social network underneath your mother’s doing, Irene is a part of it, Lucas, who you had met formally several months ago by virtue of your mother, is also a part of it; each and every gala you have been to were filled with people you or your mother knew of - so the unknown characters around you right now, coupled with the unrevealing of your first ever design, ultimately terrifies you. You can pick out a few faces; Irene, of course, your manager, who had been gracing the dessert table for the past hour, and two of your stylists who continuously kept an eye on your hand that had gone back to fisting at the fabric of your dress, weary at wrinkles. 

“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice rings which causes your ear to perk, turning your head to the direction of the tall jolly man who lugs his shorter husband around, and another boy, a much younger boy, follows behind the both of them. Johnny has a quizzical look on his face, as if he were pondering the reason on why you were present - you must have had the same expression too, because he lets out laughter. “It’s peculiar to see you at an event such as this.” 

“I should say the same to you, Johnny.” you say, hand relaxing in Irene’s clasp. She relaxes her fingers and lets your hand go, consequently wiping her hands with a napkin as she makes a teasing quip about how clammy your hands are. You let out a pout at her comment before turning back around towards Johnny - this doesn’t seem like an event he would usually attend as well; he’s more of a youthful socialite gathering type of man, even more peculiar that he’d bring his husband along as well. “Ten, nice to see you again!” 

Ten rings out a smile to you as he leans down to give you a hug, before taking a seat at your table. The younger man who follows behind the two of them is a little awkward in stance, but he doesn’t fail to give you a warm, dashing smile, a calming grin stretched out on his face.

“I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “You must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - Jaehyun and Johnny talk about you a lot.” 

“Is that so?” you let out a laugh, quirking your eyebrows at Johnny who gives you a deadpan look, causing you to giggle. “But it’s very nice to finally meet you, Jaemin!”

The five of you drown the droning sound of classical music through small-chatter, catching up with each other from the past few weeks. Jaemin is a kind boy - charming, but level-headed and mature, he seemed wise beyond his years, and his manners were prim and proper. For a fleeting moment, you had wondered where he had gotten his personality from, seeing as Johnny is a loud, silly man while Jaehyun was more enigmatically rambunctious, but you push the thought out of your head. You think about what he had said when introducing himself to you - Jaehyun talked about you to him?

“So, when is the wedding, Irene?” Ten asks as he sinks the teeth of his fork into a red velvet cheesecake, sliding the fragment it into his mouth before setting his fork back down on the plate. 

“You’ll find out through the invitation cards,” Irene gives him a kilowatt smile, her eyes softening at the mention of the future event. “But it will be next Spring - we have yet to decide where the venue shall be, but when we do, like I said before, you’ll find out through the invitation cards.” 

“Oh, to be married,” Johnny cooed teasingly, as if he weren’t sitting next to his husband. “What a wonderful thing to imagine - finally becoming one with the love of your life during a beautiful ceremony. One can only dream.”

“Johnny Suh,” Ten deadpans, causing you and Irene to let out giggles. “I will not hesitate to shove this entire cake down your mouth, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at.” 

Johnny lets out a loud laughing, bringing his husband close for a hug as the shorter man, pouting, takes another bite out of his cheesecake. “I’m just joking,” Johnny says. “Being married to you is like a dream for me every single day.”

You watch the couple with admiration as they slowly begin to begin to chatter into their own world, gentle smiles and soft gazes exchanged between them; you’ve grown used to seeing the people around you amorous with their partners, but you still cannot deny the feeling of envy that creeps up in your stomach every time you were faced with a happy couple. It’s not that you want them to break up, because you would never wish for a beautiful pairing to split, no matter who they are, but it’s because you’ve still yet to find the one who could bring you into your own little world. You tear your gaze away from them to let them have their own privacy, bringing your attention to your fingers decorated with rings that range from Daniel Villegas to Swarovski,  but an emptiness pools in your heart when you realize none of them truly holds a significant meaning to you.

For a fleeting moment, Jaehyun’s face flashes in your mind, but you push it out of your thoughts as quickly as it had arrived. 

You quickly come to when you hear the dull tapping of a mic blare throughout the grand hall, a hush falling over the attendees as they redirect their attention towards the front of the venue, towards the mini platform that had housed the mini orchestra. Two men stand atop the platform, each clad in a dark grey suits by Johnston; you squint your eyes just slightly in order to make out their faces against the harsh spotlight that had shone onto them. One man seemed familiar, his hair greying and thinning, wrinkles of age outstretching the skin of his face, and you identify him as Mr. Jung, whom you met at the politician’s event last week. You are quizzical as to why they are here, wondering if this was a gala hosted by the Jung family. As you wondered, your eyes turn to the man beside him, only to find his eyes already on you. 

You gasped slightly when you see Jung Jaehyun, the ash blonde tone of his hair long gone and replaced with jet black locks, slicked away from his forehead and styled much like the first time you had seen him - he stands tall, as he always does, hands firm at his side and facial features juxtaposing each other as if he were modern art, but his eyes, the eyes that you’ve grown used to seeing desire, confidence, and adoration, are instead filled with nothing but alarm. He stares at you with widened eyes, his jaw visibly tightening as he seems to stop breathing for a fleeting moment, and at his unusual gait, a sense of doom rises in your stomach. 

“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight,” Mr. Jung’s gruff voice blares through the speakers while he holds the microphone close to his mouth. “Today is a very, very special night for Jung & Associates; a very special night for my beloved son, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun finally tears his eyes from yours to look at his father, flashes the audience a kilowatt smile, as if he hadn’t looked at you with such alarm just mere seconds ago. 

“As we all know, my time as CEO of Jung & Associates has already come to an end, and I figured, with one last bang, why don’t I announce my son’s rise to the chair with a celebration?” he turns towards Jaehyun, whose lips are pressed tightly in a line. “I know that he’ll prove to be an amazing chief executive; he’s responsible, articulate, and intelligent - he is the son I have always dreamt of, and he is everything Jung & Associates has aimed for in our empire.”

You see Johnny‘s jaw clench from beside you against the dim lighting, and on the other side of the table, you see Jaemin gulp, and you couldn’t help but frown at how much pain their own father’s words must have caused the both of them. You reach out in an attempt to squeeze Johnny’s arm as a sense of comfort, as he is much closer to you physically, but a voice that causes your nerves to run wild inside of you blares through the speakers, causing you to pause mid-action and look back towards the platform. 

“Thank you, father,” Jaehyun says when the older man gives him the microphone, he toys with the wire before clearing his throat, looking back into the audience. “I’m very excited for the journey I’ll be taking with Jung & Associates; this has been my dream since I was a child, so I’m really happy to be here today.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air, and he takes a hitched breath. “As well for another announcement,” Jaehyun continues. “I’m very excited to announce a new era for Jung & Associates - we have merged with Kim & Park Law, an honour as we move into a bigger empire. Helping people is what both of our firm’s prioritize, so it only felt right.“

An applause breaks out in the crowd, and politely, you clap too, although you are unsure as to what was going on. You wondered how your design was going to be shown, when it will be revealed; you should have inquired your manager before arriving - this doesn’t seem like the correct environment for a revealing.

“That being said, I have one last announcement. I’m sure all of you are wondering just why I’m talking about the future of the merge between Jung & Associates Kim & Park Law, when we’ve merged with plenty other companies in the past. Well, it’s due to the fact that the worries of the future does not only pertain to the company, but to my personal life as well,” he pauses, and he looks around the room for a fleeting moment, but when his eyes land on yours, it seems as if the moment had lasted for years. A woman, a beautiful woman of tall stature with glowing blonde hair and skin kissed slightly by the sun walks up to the platform to stand next to Jaehyun, and adorned on her form is your design, with its lavender fabric that shines against the spotlight as if it were painted onto her skin, whose flowers decals swept against the floor in youthful, yet graceful, wonder. When Jaehyun finally tears his gaze from yours to look at her, she gives him a smile filled with love, and Jaehyun, with his dimples carved deep into the corners of his mouth, smiles back. 

“Chaeyoung Park, the beautiful daughter of one of the co-founder of Kim & Park Law, is to be my wife. Tonight, I am announcing our engagement.”

The doom that had been brewing in your stomach for the past few days had penetrated into your heart when the words absorb into your eardrums; the sinking feeling inside of you and the twisting pain that had erupted in your chest drowned out the applause and cheers of duress that had taken over the sound waves of the hall, your breath hitching in your throat as you wish only for the ground to swallow you whole. Johnny and Ten turn towards you, their eyes widened in horror as they open their mouths frantically, but you are unable to hear what they are saying. Irene, beside you, grabs your hand once more and rests her other one atop the back of your hand, and when you turn towards her, when you meet her heartbroken, pitiful gaze, when you realize that you and Jung Jaehyun, the man who had not only taken your opportunity of glory by taking away the attention from your first ever design, had also decided to tear your heart and soul apart in the most painful fashion.

The last thing you had remembered before your eyesight became a blur was forcefully standing up, the screeching of the legs of your chair hushed by the audience’s celebration, and walking out of the hall with Irene running after you as you will yourself to not let the tears spill past your waterline.

You come to when the moonlight that casts down into your dark bedroom causes your interior to glow ethereally; perhaps, if it were your usual day, you would stop to admire the setting - but even the most extravagant view is dust to you now as you wreak broken sobs of dismal into Irene’s comforting arms. 

“He’s not worth your tears, (Y/N),” Irene comforts you, motherly hand caressing your hair as she lets you sob. She hums soothingly as she does so, your body trembling in ache. “He’s just another ignorant, immature boy. He’ll bring the end of this stupid law firm while you’ll continue to reign with Decoré.”

“It hurts so much, Irene,” you sob into the fabric of her Elie Saab garment, guilty that you’re staining the silk with your heartbroken tears. “My heart hurts so much, he told me he loved me just last night and I told him I loved him back. I should have listened to you, how could I have trusted him? How could I be so thoughtless?”

“Shh,” Irene’s voice is soothing as she pushes you back to look at your face. “I will say, I did warn you. However, you can’t control your curiosity nor who you love, (Y/N). And yes, although you fell in love with a man of whom I want to do nothing else to but murder, you were not being thoughtless. You just did what you thought was right.”

“Nothing I did was right,” you wipe the tears that streamed down your face. “If I did what was right, then I would have never caught sight of him that first night, then I would have never met Johnny, then I would have never kept running into him in different countries, and I would have never fallen in love with him.”

She tucks a hair behind your ear before wiping your tears with her thumb, smearing some of your mascara and eyeliner underneath your red, swollen eyes. She smiles with a bittersweetness. “Everything happens for a reason, (Y/N).”

You change out of your dress, hem stained by grass and dirt marks from walking carelessly through the front garden towards the entrance when you were leaving the gala, and Irene stays outside your door as she informs Seokjin that she’ll be staying over at your home. She doesn’t tell her fiancé what had happened, deciding to keep it a secret between the two of you, and Johnny and Ten. You let out a sigh as you remember the two men’s shocked faces when they had turned to you, anger and denial clear in their faces; were you and Jaehyun not as discreet as you had thought? Your stomach twisted in pain when you think of more options; had Jaehyun lied to you about keeping it a secret?

“Irene?” your voice is meek when you reach out to her arm as the two of you lay beside each other in your plush bed hours after your sobbing had calmed down. She hums, flipping her sleeping mask away from her eyes as she looks at you. “How did you know about Jaehyun and I?” 

She waits for a few seconds, as if pondering on what to say. “The tension between the two of you was claustrophobic,” she says after a few seconds. “You also both held these... certain gazes towards each other. Gazes that I gave Seokjin when I pined for him, and gazes that I still give him now.” 

Your stomach twists once more as tears spring against your waterline. Perhaps asking wasn’t the correct decision. You sniff, in an attempt to calm your emotions. “Oh.”

“It’ll be okay, (Y/N),” Irene sighs, her hand on top of yours in an effort to comfort you, acknowledging your shaking voice. “It will be hard, but you can find a better man. A better man than Jaehyun had ever been.”

“Of course.” you whisper. “Goodnight, Irene.”

“Goodnight.”

Later that night, when Irene’s soft snoring emits from her form beside you, you reach for your phone that slept against your bedside table. When you rouse it awake, a dull pain seeps into your heart at the sight of the notifications that lined your screen; all of them were from Jaehyun. A tear escapes your eyes as you unlock your device, willing yourself to not read the countless messages he had sent you, almost enraged at his ignorance for even thinking of doing such a thing - was it his goal to mock you, to taunt you of how your body was under control of his lips? 

You think back on his actions towards you for the past year you’ve been aware of his existence, filled with aching eyes and desired touches, small exchanges of soft smiles and slight smirks. Had that all just been an act, for him? Had he looked at you with lust, only to go back home and give his girlfriend, his fiancée, the same ones - only this time, with authentic emotions? Had he spent the last year making it seem as if he were the one pining after you, when in reality, you were the one that had those feelings? Had he doused the three words he said on your last affair in a brew of lies before letting them absorb into your eardrums? Had wickedness glowed in his heart when you uttered the same three words back? 

Because, as you continue upon thinking more about the situation, late that night, you realize that his fiancée was not the one that hurt you - she probably had no clue about all of this, just as you had been. 

You were the other woman.

Your heart clenches in your chest sending a wreck of pain through your nerves, biting your lip to muffle back a broken sob as thoughts fly into your mind at a pace you had never encountered before.

Jung Jaehyun knew you; he knew all your secrets when you uttered them in his ear when you would lay next to him in bed, he knew of your quirks that would slip out when trying to keep your relations discreet in the public eye, he knew of the facade that you would put up after stepping past the gates of your house, he knew what your body liked and craved and how to get you to slip over the edge when he would fuck you, he knew of your goals, he knew of your wishes, he knew of your desire for love and marriage - but you knew nothing about Jung Jaehyun.

You swallow once in an attempt to calm the increasing regret that begins to fill your stomach before tapping your screen one final time that night, the block button that sits underneath his contact emitting a light blue before his number finally disappears from your device, deleting your text conversations, erasing every lingering retention of Jung Jaehyun.

-----

The plain taste of water fills your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps you should have ordered a much more tasteful drink to accompany the savoury meal in front of you, of different breads, seasonings and pastas. Your shoulders are straight as you sit in the chair of crushed velvet, corset at a comfortable tightness as you keep a watchful gaze on the people around you. A sigh escapes your mouth when you spot a lovely couple seated a few seats away from you, hands outstretched and on top of each other against the wooden table, love full in their eyes as they gazed at each other in admiration.  

Perhaps coming here was the wrong idea. 

Three years ago, you were brought to the chair of Decoré after the sudden passing of your mother, a tragic event that graced headlines much to your grief in utter remembrance - the year of her death was an ache to you, every person you turned to would bring it up, which would only spark tears in your eyes and pain in your chest. Becoming used to the chair was not an easy task at all either, having to give up the modelling career that you had forged from a young age in order to focus fully on the company’s strings - and you didn’t have your mother to help you either. As the years went by, you formed into a different woman; long gone was the girl who put a mask in front of the public in order to keep her reputation spotless, long gone was the girl who calculated her movements in order to keep an outrage from sparking - however, sometimes, when all the lights in your lonesome penthouse are turned off and all you can hear is the distant buzz of the streets below, you would silently cry to yourself, wishing like a child that everything hadn’t changed so drastically. 

You and Irene are still in contact, as close as ever, and you had the will to have invited you on your trip - but due to her growing family and growing pregnant belly, she was most likely unable to accompany you on your planned rendezvous’ these recent days; Johnny, ever the positive man, also continued to contact you as well, albeit sparsely - but the incident that had happened caused a strain to form on your friendship - he treated you like a ticking time bomb, careful with his words in order to not let a memory spring in your mind. Last you heard, he had adopted two little twin girls with his husband. You, on the other hand, admittedly have had your nights of pleasure, hooking up with random men dressed in fancy custom suits that you’d meet at random lounges and events, but they were never serious. They would always leave right after your affair ends. Your ring finger bears no band, and you’re unsure if it ever will.

Presently, you sit at a lounge, someplace in Milan, celebrating the opening of a new boutique in your favoured city, lonesome. In due fairness, you were planning to ask your secretaries and closest employees to accompany you, but after the hard work they had put into opening the new branch in a foreign country, you opted to give them the rest of the day off instead. As crowds of people chatted amongst themselves in duress, all you can do is sip hesitantly at your water and pick at your food, regretting the idea of coming here alone. It seems as the universe is mocking you, as well, decorations of hearts and and cupids littered against the walls of the restaurant, as today is Valentine’s day - everyone around you is on a date, perhaps their first or one of many, and you are sitting there, alone, completely out of place. 

Yes, coming here was definitely the wrong idea.

Yet, you couldn’t bear to let the food you had ordered and had people put their backbone into making to go to waste, so instead of standing up to retrieve your tweed coat hung on the backrest of your chair, you continue to eat quietly, by yourself, underneath the guise of being distracted by your phone screen. As you ponder about the what-ifs, thinking about having ordering room service from the comfort of your hotel room instead, a waitress props a tall, skinny glass of a familiar liquid in front of you. 

“Domaine de la romanée-cont, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she greets you with a gracious smile, bowing her head slightly. “From the gentleman at the bar.”

You furrow your eyebrows together in bewilderment at the glass before thanking the waitress and sending her on her way. You study the flute intently, gazing at it’s red liquid that seemed to glow against the yellow lighting of the restaurant, before wrapping your fingers around it to take it towards your lips. The bitter taste of domaine de la romanée-cont graces your taste buds when the liquid engulfs your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps the theory of a maturing palate is true, you do not favour the taste of the wine that you would eagerly look for at events when you were younger and in your old household - but it also brings another memory to you, a distant recalling, eyes that you have not looked into for the past few years embedding into your brain when the taste hits your tongue. 

Jung Jaehyun is a distant name to you now, the taste of his name slipping off your tongue becoming a foreign feeling as each day passes, fingerprints he left on your skin slowly eroding away through time. Often, you’d see his face on the screen of your television, read his name on front pages of magazines that they’d display at those corner stores you’d idly pass by, or hear his name in hushed chatter from people around you engrossed in their own conversation - but as quickly as he had nearly ingrained himself into your life once more, you’d change the channel, or flip the page, or tune out of the conversation. Although no parts of you hold no bearing of the memoirs of Jung Jaehyun, sometimes, you’d find yourself laying awake at night, wishing for the memories that still lay in the cavities of your brain to come to life once again, to feel his fingerprints burn into your skin much like they had five years ago - but as a chief executive at the age of twenty-seven, all you can do is tell yourself to grow up, and force yourself to do paperwork instead of wishing for something that will never come true. 

So when you spot Jung Jaehyun sat at the dark mahogany bar after looking for the man who had paid for this drink, with his umber eyes boring into yours, you are unsure on how to act.

He is as beautiful as the first time you laid eyes on him, his facial features a stunning juxtaposition as the dim overhead lighting of the bar accentuates his sleek cheeks and soft jawline, his sharp lips and soft, brown eyes. His hair, remaining a jet-black, much like the first time that you had seen him, is brushed over his forehead messily. He wears a simple white button up shirt, the first two buttons undone, tucked into a pair of black trousers adorned with a belt. On his wrist, as he cradles a glass of champagne as he watches you, is a golden watch from Louis Vuitton, His mouth is pulled into a straight line, and in his eyes, hold observe, as if he were waiting for how you would react. Even now, when he approaches you and sits in the chair opposite from yours, his eyes still hold a deep meaning. 

Upon meeting his eye, it seems as if all the memories you have buried deep into your brain becomes uncovered, images flashing before your eyes in montages like an old film movie; his eyes gazing into yours with desire, fingers pressing into your skin as to leave a crater of himself on your form, lips ghosting the crook of your neck when he used to roll his hips into you - the act alone is enough to make you gasp from both shock and hurt, tears slightly beginning to tease your waterline, but you take note of the environment around you and decide that you shouldn’t act out. 

“Jung Jaehyun,” you finally speak, keeping your tone unwavering. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” he speaks, setting the bottom of his glass against the white cloth. Jet black strands fall past his eyes and he brushes them back, before meeting his eyes with you again. “I hope you have been well, (Y/N).”

“I have.” you answer him, switching your gaze back and forth between his eyes - what was his goal in speaking to you like this; you do not hold an inkling of care for him as you once did, was his plan to taunt you of your old affairs? You decide not to thank him on his greeting, nor return it, and continue to speak venomously. “Why are you here?”

He seems taken aback from your blunt answers, stilling for only a fleeting moment before parting his lips again. “I’m here to oversee the Milan branch,” he answers you in a strain. “I was just enjoying a night out when I saw you, and I wanted to greet you again.”

“Alright.” you simply give him a simper, setting your fork down before you push the avoided glass of domaine de la romanée-cont towards him. He watched your action with puzzled eyes. “I don’t like the taste of this wine anymore; you should have just kept your money in your pocket.”

“Oh,” is all he could say. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything, instead, you begin to pack up your belongings into your purse, quickly arranging the utensils of the finished meal in front of you to help the waitresses clean your table easier for when you leave. You avoid his gaze when you finally stand up, taking your tweed coat hanging off the backrest of your seat and sliding it on, brushing your hair out from being tucked into it. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jung.” you tell him, still not attempting to hold his watchful eye as you turn on your heel and walked towards the exit, not wanting to hear any words slip past his lips. You are appalled, could a man really be so ignorant, to attempt to mock you in front of your face, even years later? Perhaps he still held himself in high regard from the past, and though a small part of you wreaks with hurt, slight tears springing to your eyes when the February air kisses your cheeks as you walk past the doors, anger still continues to move through your nerves. 

“(Y/N),” you hear his voice following after you as you walk through the cobblestone walkways, the calm waters of the Navigli canal that was located right at the exit juxtaposing the emotions that stir inside of you at the sound of his voice. “Please, I just want to talk.”

You continue to walk away from him, hearing his fast footsteps a few meters behind yours. “You had the chance to talk to me years ago before that night.” you simply say, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat from the cold air. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your chance.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, and you hear him begin to jog to your side, and once he comes into view, all you can do is bump past him in a fit of aggravation. “Please, listen to me. Just let me talk.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I run a company. Don’t you?” you say in a hard tone. You hear his footsteps come to a stop and you let out a relieved sigh at the thought - you just wanted to leave past him and never see him again, just as he had done to you all those years ago; his voice causes you to halt, just seconds later. 

“I do not.” his voice is a few meters away from you but the tone of his voice causes your step to falter, and you widen your eyes at the discovery. 

You furrow your eyebrows together before pivoting on his heel to face him, finding his form closer to your body than you had anticipated. “What do you mean?”

“Jung & Associates isn’t under my command anymore. I gave up the position to my youngest brother, Jaemin, who was more ready than I ever was,” he tells you, eyes dark, voice genuine, but the wall that has built before your heart causes your form to stay rigid. “Have you not seen the articles going around, (Y/N)? I did this nearly two years ago. I want no responsibility of the sort - father nearly kicked me out of the family for my choices, but I’m just Jung Jaehyun now.”

You weigh the options of believing him and avoiding his words for a few seconds, opting for the latter as you let out a scoff. The calm waters beside the two of your forms stays moving in slow waves. “Don’t expect me to believe your lies, Jaehyun.”

“I’m not lying.” he says. “I have never lied to you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you spit, and a sense of hurt flashes in his eyes - you want to slap him, how dare he feel hurt at your words when he’s caused you greater hurt than you’ve ever felt. “How can you expect me to believe you when everything we’ve ever done together was based on false words?”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N),” he says, reaching out towards you but you slap his hand away - retracting his arm as more pain pools into his pupils. You feel the tears finally begin to tease your waterline the moment you had touched him, letting out a soft cry. “What we had was real, and you know that.”

“No, it wasn’t.” you tell him, attempting to keep your tone unwavering. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me again, Jung Jaehyun. I was the other woman, and you never had the audacity to tell me. You never had the audacity to at least give me the chance to end whatever... we were.”

“(Y/N).” he says, simply, but you only tear your eyes off of him, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you look at the calm waters of the canal beside you. 

”Please, just leave me be. Don’t you have a wife to take care of?”

“I don’t,” he tells you, and his words cause you to look at him again with puzzled eyes. He parts his lips again to speak. “Me and Chaeyoung were engaged under business terms - it was never real between us, I couldn’t bare marrying a woman I didn’t love, nor could she, so I ended the merge and our engagement, which cut my ties to the chair.”

You let out a breath at listening to him, eyes falling downcast to the ground, attempting to keep the tears from slipping down your cheeks, but you fail, the streaks hot against your face against the cool air. 

“Why would you do that?” you ask him in a hushed tone. 

He whispers back. “Life is a risk, isn’t it?”

Silence seduces the air between the two of you for a few seconds, the only sounds heard is the distant soundtrack of cars moving past the roads and the slight sloshing of the bed of water beside the two of you. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, and then he parts his lips open. 

“The first time I saw you,” he says, taking a step towards you before bringing a hand up to wipe your tears from your face, his presence so close to you. “It was at your mother’s gala, that one spring. I was there due to my father’s orders to coax your mother into having us buy Decoré. I knew who you were, after researching the revenue of your company - but when I saw you... I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I came home that night, my father was angry that I couldn’t go through one task he had asked me to do - and he gave me a choice. Buy your company, or merge with another company by marriage.”

You keep quiet, letting his words pour into your ears as you listen intently, every syllable hard hitting to your chest as you feel your stomach begin to pool with trust.

“I remember I kept bumping into you in different cities,” he lets out a soft chuckle, juxtaposing the tears that are welling up in his eyes. “Bordeaux, Cebu... I remember butterflies going wild in my stomach when I saw you at the resort in Cebu, but my mind was set. I needed to talk to you, and so I ordered you your wine, and I finally was able to.”

You let out a shaky breath as you continue to listen to him, your mind swirling with thoughts but becoming silenced when he cradles your cheek in his palm.

“And that night in Milan,” he pauses, his hands cupping your cheeks now, an action burning into your skin much like the first few times he had done it long ago. “When I saw you walking down the runway with that wedding dress, walking towards me at the end of the runway… it all just made sense.”

You gasp lightly, widening your eyes at the realization of his words, and it is at your reaction that causes his tears to finally fall from his own eyes, staining his red cheeks with wet streaks. It is an action that causes you to recall the last time you had been entangled with him, wiping his tears away as the both of you whisper the three words that you’ve become so scared of uttering.

“Do you want to know the reason why I held such detest for Johnny, all those years ago?” he asks you, and you do not answer, continuing to look at him in bewilderment. “It was because I was jealous that he could live a life freely while I could not. It was because I was jealous that he could start his own career from what he favoured to do, and I had to take on the responsibilities of the family. It was because I envied the fact that he could marry whomever he wanted,” he paused, only for a brief moment, but it felt like millennia when all you could feel at that moment was your nerves exploding at his words. 

“And that I could not marry you.”

His lips are like home to you, warm against yours and sending a frenzy through your nerves, and you realize, perhaps you never really did forget the way his lips meshed against yours, and how it felt to feel his presence burn into your skin. Even as tears streamed down both of your cheeks as your lips mold into each other with both yearning and passion. You are unsure of how many moments you stand like that, still, hearing the water move beside the both of you quietly, the stars above you twinkling in their delight much like the lamp posts that litter the street, lips dancing against each other. Your hands are tangled in his hair, each strand brushing against your fingers and palms in a familiar dance, as his hands cup against your mouth - and you realize why you have grown to dislike the taste of domaine de la romanée-cont, the wine you use to favour - it’s because you have found your favourite taste in Jaehyun’s lips.

You find your hands having a mind of their own when you pull him by the collar of his coat, bringing him closer to you, and within seconds you are hastily leading him through the walkways towards your hotel. Your lips are still molded together at the front of the hotel, at the entrance of the lobby, the warm yellow lights that emit from the chandeliers inside spilling out to your forms. Perhaps, years ago, you would never do such a brash act in public - but at present, you could care less for the possible paparazzi loitering around the area, you could care less of the stares that the both of you attract when you drag him through the lobby towards the elevator shafts, stepping in, never once moving away from each other. When you pull away with panting breaths, he presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as his tears calm. His hands are still placed on your waist, unwilling to let go, and the both of you relish in each other’s presence for a moment, letting silence overtake you; slowly letting the other settle back into their life, dwelling themselves in the space that they had used to take. 

“I want you,” he whispers, the ghost of his breath brushing against your nose as you let your hands fall from the strands of his hair and onto his cheeks. One of his hands make it on top of yours, warm against your skin. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“You have me now,” you whisper, hands trailing from his cheeks towards the hardening member underneath the fabric of his trousers. “So please ruin me.” 

Both of your bodies deem impatient when the bell sounds with a ding!, announcing that the two of you had arrived to the floor of your penthouse - you are only thankful that the immediate first step from exiting the elevator is already your lounge room, discarding your coat onto the ground as you swiftly push Jaehyun further into your penthouse. His hands have transitioned from gentle touches to rougher grips, arms wrapped around your waist now, letting you lead the way as his slick tongue slips past yours. He moans into the kiss as you push him down towards the suede black couch that decorates your lounge; your knees are on both sides of him, straddling him, never once breaking your kiss. You run your fingers through his hair as he leans back against the backrest of the couch, fingers tracing down your clothed spine and then cupping your ass through the fabric of your noir Dior dress. You pull away from his lips slightly to let out a moan that had been building up since you had last seen him - you hadn’t realized how much your body ached for his touch.

“So eager...” he whispers as you pant out, his lips attaching onto your neck, reminding your skin of what his tongue had felt like. He slowly moves his hands underneath your dress, rolling the tight fabric up over your bottom, your bare-skin now exposed to the cool temperature of your penthouse. His hands are warm against your flesh before he raises his hand to smack your pad of skin lightly, the contact causing a sound to ripple through the air as you let out a soft gasp. You feel him smirk against your skin. “You like that, darling?”

The nickname that slipped past his tongue causes your core to throb, having not heard those words from him in so long - it’s laughable really, how you were still underneath Jung Jaehyun’s five years later, even after you swore never to pine for him again. Your cheeks heat up as he continues to smack your ass, leaning back now to watch your facial expressions, a smug smirk on his face. “Look at you. You like being spanked, darling?” he taunts you, and your core throbs once more. 

You bite down on your lip to suppress a moan as you nod your head, his hits slowly begin to turn harder, pain burning into your skin - but you love it all; Jaehyun puts his mark onto you again, this time, they’ll never fade away. He spanks you sharply, and you let a yelp emit from your lips. “That’s it,” he grins when he hears your whine, his black hair brushing past his eyes. “Let it out, darling. Make the entire hotel know what I’m doing to you.”

You find yourself rocking your hips slowly after every spank, rutting your wet panties against the swelling hardness in Jaehyun’s trousers. You hadn’t realized what you had been doing until he lets out a low groan, craning his neck backwards at the sensation of your clothed heats grinding into each other. He grips his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you continue. 

“You’re so fucking hard already,” you whisper, the outline of his cock against your core causing shudders to rake through your nerves. He bites down on his lip as his eyes flutter shut, causing you to smirk; you rut your hips faster. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone sensitive, Jaehyun. It would be such a bummer if you cum so early in our affair.” 

He seems to snap back into reality at your sentence, eyes opening and craning his neck straight to look towards you, umber eyes turning a shade dark before one of his hands find their way against your clothed heat. “You’ve gotten brave,” he says in a hushed tone. “Just because I haven’t fucked you in a while doesn’t mean you can take control. That’s not how it works, darling.”

“I can take control over you whenever I wa-“ you start, but your sentence is cut short at the feeling of Jaehyun pushing your thin panties to the side before harshly pressing his long fingers into you, causing you to lean forward at the sensation that you have yearned for so long. In the corner of your eye, you see him smirk in arrogance, but you cannot say anything - not when he’s already began to fuck his finger into you. “Fuck, Jaehyun!”

“Finish your sentence.” he whispers calmly, as if his digits weren’t doing something so obscene. “You know how much I hate it when people don’t finish their sentences. You can take control of me? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“J-Jaehyun!” you mewl, legs buckling as you lose your balance on top of him, your hips having a mind of their own as you begin to rock your hips against his fingers. He moves you swiftly, so that your back is against his chest, legs spread with the help of his own, his fingers pushing in and out of you so deliciously. 

“Answer my fucking question, slut.” he says, baritone voice deep in your ear. 

The name causes you to gasp, sinful words and the sensation of his long, thick digits spreading you apart after so long already having you see stars in your eyes. “J-Jaehyun,” you whimper, voice wavering with every pump he fucks into you. “I was w-wrong. Y-You have control over me. I’m yours.”

You feel him smile against your ear. “Good.” he praises you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sweet spot that causes your toes to curl and for you to let out a sweet mewl. “Now tell me how good of a whore you are and if I should let you cum or not. Did you let other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite down on your lip as his digits pick up the pace, moving in and out of your hole with sopping sounds; the room is filled with a sinful soundtrack of Jaehyun’s dirty words, your breathy whimpers, and the sound of his palm slapping against your cunt. He brushes past your spot again, which causes you to buck your hips, letting out a louder mewl. He pushes your waist down with his free hand, wrapping his legs around yours to bring them wider, fully having you encompassed in his body. His fingers do not stop though, they ram against your sweet spot repeatedly, earning high-pitched moans to emit from your throat; all that you are able to say, is his name. “Don’t you fucking listen?” he growls into your ear, digits ruthless as they continue to fuck into you, stretching your walls out the way you like. “Tell me. Did other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite onto your lip and weigh your options, whether you should tell him the truth, or not. Throughout the past five years of not wanting to face Jaehyun, you have accumulated quite a list of men that you had hooked up with for the enjoyment of one single night - many of them left you unsatisfied, but anything was better than you being left to your own devices. Tears begin to spring your eyes at the doubled speed Jaehyun was going now - you had forgotten how ruthless he is in bed, just the way you like it. 

“Yes.” you decide to tell him the truth, although, you come to regret it when Jaehyun pulls his wet fingers out of you and slaps your cunt, your sensitive clit hit with dull thud of pain before he plunges his fingers deep into you again.

“Dirty whore,” he spits, but you’re unable to answer at the amount of pleasure overtaking your core. “Who? Who fucked you while I was gone? Tell me all of them or else you won’t get to cum.”

You tighten your walls around his fingers when he brushes past your spot for the nth time but he pulls his fingers out of you before you are able to be pushed to the edge, the built up high slowly fading just slightly before he plunges them back in again, a mewl emitting from your lips when realizing that your orgasm has to be built once again. “Jaehyun!” you whine, bucking your hips in aggravation against his ruthless hand, but he tightens his grip on you. 

“I fucking said, tell me who fucked you,” he says through grit teeth. “Or else you won’t be able to cum at all.”

“N-Nakamoto Yuta,” you whisper. Your walls spasm around his fingers again, when he brushes the pads of his digits against your spot. You let out a moan as the pleasure rakes through your body, but you continue to power through, aching for your orgasm to rip through your limbs. “Kim Taehyung, L-Lee Minhyuk,” his fingers seem to bear no ending as they continue to fuck in and out of you while you recite each name that you are able to recall under the circumstance, but all that comes to and end when you utter the last name. “Kim Doyoung.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and hastily grabs your hair, forming it into a makeshift ponytail as he pulls your head closer to him. His grip on your scalp is tight and you let out a cry of pain as well as annoyance at your ruined orgasm - yet, you wanted more. He slowly moves you to the side, standing up from the couch and setting his feet in front of you, towering over your form, and you feel your heart sink in both fear and excitement. 

“Kim Doyoung?” he chuckles lowly, slightly tugging on your hair harshly before redirecting your gaze to his belt, and your breath hitches in your throat at the realization of what he wants you to do. “So tell me, darling. Did he fuck you until you couldn’t walk, just like you wanted?”

Out of all the men that you had found yourself in bed with, often random strangers who believed it would be a stepping stone towards achieving your empire by your side, Kim Doyoung was one that you were not expecting. After running into him in a jazz lounge in New York City; the both of you caught up on what the other had missed, apologized for not staying in contact - and as each glass of liquor passed by the both of you in blurs, you quickly come to when both of your forms were barely able to make it to his bed, having bent you over the kitchen counter of his penthouse as he drilled into you from behind. 

Just like Jaehyun, Doyoung was ruthless - he left marks on your skin that you had to cover for almost a week before you were certain they weren’t to be seen by the media, and for the entire day after the ordeal, you had deemed too sore to walk, having to call into your headquarters to inform them that you would be working from home that day. However, unlike Jaehyun, you held no connection with Doyoung - his gaze, though filled with lust and desire, held no longing and yearning for who you really are; his touch, though pleasurable and able to bring you to the edge, did not light fires against your skin. 

As you pull Jaehyun’s pants down, his throbbing cock slapping against his stomach, the memories of that night are pushed out of your mind at the expense of your desire. You quickly wrap your hands around his shaft, thick and large - your core twitching at the thought of his cock stretching you out again. You part your lips before you swirl your tongue on his pink tip, the sensation of your slick tongue slathering around him letting a low groan emit from his throat. “Shit, baby,” he groans, relaxing his grip on your hair, pushing stray strands away from your face to get a better view. 

“Fuck, I missed your pretty little mouth so much.”

You had forgotten how big he was when you attempt to take all of him into your throat, a gagging sound reverberating off the walls of your penthouse, which causes him to groan louder. “Shit,” he hisses, and he begins to rock his hips slowly. “Yeah, that’s right, choke on my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”

His throbbing tip hits the back of your throat in repeated beats, tears springing into your eyes as your gagging causes more saliva to flow out your mouth. He slowly begins to thrust faster, craning his head back at how good your throat feels around him; the grip he held in your hair tightens once again, keeping your head in place as he fucks your mouth. “Mmm, shit,” he grunts. “So fucking good. Such a whore, letting me fuck your throat, hm? Fuck! I missed you so fucking much.”

Obscenities fall from his lips as he continued to rut into your mouth, lewd noises of saliva against flesh emitting throughout the room; tears stained with mascara line down your face but you keep your hands trained on his hips as support - you’re almost sure that your sopping heat has begun to stain the fabric of the couch you sat atop. He thrusts once more, slowly this time, a guttural grunt sounding from his chest as he stuff your mouth - the tip of your nose tickles the base of his cock, and you screw your eyes shut to combat your gagging reflex, before he pulls out, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. 

“Please fuck me,” you beg him, leaning back into the couch as you desperately spread your legs apart, inviting him to your wet pussy. You pout at him through teary eyes, not bothering to wipe the saliva that lines your mouth, not bothered at the saliva that had stained your expensive dress, wanting nothing more than to be fucked already. “Please fuck me, I need you so bad. Please, Jaehyun.”

“Such an eager whore,” he chuckles as he moves in closer, positioning his cock against your pussy before he reaches to the top of your dress. He uncovers your chest roughly, you’re almost sure you can hear the slight ripping of fabric when he does, but you don’t care - not when his cock slides between your folds like that, barely attempting to plunge in. “I thought you were busy running a business? Looks like you have plenty of time to fuck.”

“Jaehyun, please...” you whine each time his tip passes by your entrance, but he continues to slather your lingering saliva and his pre-cum all over your pussy. “Please just fuck me, Jaehyun. Please.”

He smirks in arrogance before he drives into you with no warning, knocking the air out of you as you barely have time to readjust to his size before he begins to slam into you repeatedly, causing your voice ripping through the air as you scream his name repeatedly. “Jaehyun! Jaehyun!”

“You’ve become such a slut while I was gone, darling,” he grunts as he grabs onto your legs for balance as he stretches out your cunt, spreading your legs further. You are certain your body will never forget this sensation now, just as delicious as the first time he had done it, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Did you forget who your cunt belongs to?”

You are unable to form a sentence as each push into you just continues to knock the air out of your lungs, mewling in pleasure at his cock sliding against your slick walls. His hands gripped at your waist roughly, watching you bounce underneath him in your glory; your hair splayed around your face as if handpicked like fresh daisies. You feel your orgasm nearing, but Jaehyun seems to have no qualms for stopping, continuing to pull out of you entirely before snapping back in even as he feels your walls quivering. “Cumming already?” he growls, voice strained as he rocks his core wildly. “What a fucking slut.”

Gripping at the sheets is all you could do in that moment to keep your sense of self occupied, your orgasm finally ripping through your body, arching your back as his name emits through the air that you’re sure the hotel’s inhabitants would hear from the first floor. “Jaehyun, I’m cumming! I’m fucking cumming!”

He doesn’t stop though, if anything, his hips move faster and rougher against yours, the only sound accentuating your screaming are his hips slapping against your cunt - even as you come down from your orgasm, your body numb as you settle, he continues to fuck into you, face contorted into pleasure. Your legs tremble with each time he brushes against your spot, hips bucking wildly each rut he pushes into you. “Fuck, you’re still so, so, fucking tight,” he grunts, voice deep and filled with need. “I missed you so fucking much. Are you on the pill, babyl?”

“No,” you moan into his ear when he pushes into you deep and rough. “I don’t care. I want your cum inside me, please. I want it so bad.”

He groans at your words, his hips beginning to roll faster, holding you in his arms and burying your face in your neck as he does. “F-Fuck,” the vibrations of his voice tickles the skin of your neck. “You want my cum, baby? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Hm? Is that what you want? Get you pregnant to prove to you who your cunt really belongs to?”

“Yes!” you practically beg, hungering for your second orgasm. At this point, you are unable to even comprehend what slips past your mouth, your voice a montage of lewd noises and gibberish as his hips snap against you. Your sight has darkened, all your senses have gone numb, all you are able to focus on is his cock driving further and further into you over and over again, and his voice that seemed miles away even while he whispers the most sinful things into your ear. 

“Mmm, fuck! I’m gonna c-cum, baby, fuck!” he groans loudly, reverberating off the marble walls as he leans back; his hips begin to stutter against yours, feeling him twitch inside you as he fills you up, moans of your name and other crude words slipping past his tongue. You let out breathy pants as he slowly pulls out of you, his cock coming out of your cunt as his cum follows soon after, the fluid warm against your abused skin - he takes his long fingers and swipes up some of the drip before plunging his fingers deep into your cunt again, causing another moan to rip through your throat.

“Oh my fucking god, Jaehyun,” you squeal, reaching down to grab his arm to keep his fingers from pounding into you again, but the overriding sensation has already taken over you nerves, your pleads of mercy turning into moans of pleasure. Your toes curl as the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping his cum back into you reaches your ears. 

“Take it,” he grunts, watching your red face, hot with gratifaction. “Take all my cum, baby. So, so pretty carrying my baby. You’ll be glowing, so fucking precious and beautiful. And everyone will know that I’m the one who got you like that, yeah? Right, baby?” 

“Y-Yes, Jaehyun,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel your third orgasm of the night approaching, his fingers relentless against your cunt, making sure none of him leaks out. He brushes past your spot one last time, sensitive and numb, before you throw your head back into the cushions of your couch, final orgasm ripping through your nerves, unable to do anything else but moan quietly at both the plain and pleasure. “O-Oh my god.”

When your orgasm finally settles, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes progress from the darkest you have ever seen them back to their normal, soft umber tone, leaning up to kiss you softly. You have tears in your eyes from what your body endured, and you’re far too sore to move your limbs, but you kiss back, relishing in the feeling that you have missed for so long - he picks you up from the couch, your legs hanging in the air as he holds you close as he successfully finds your bedroom. He lays you down on the plush mattress and reaches to the bedside table where a box of tissues laid, wiping your body down, his actions mellow and calm, as he utters sweet nothings to you. “You’re so, so beautiful. You’re so good to me. You’re my entire world.” 

When he finally finishes cleaning the both of you up, he wastes no time in getting into the other side of the bed, holding you close against him. Your breathing had finally calmed, your chest rising and falling in tranquil beats. You lay your cheek against his chest, relishing in the still environment that occupied the space around you. 

“Jaehyun,” you utter, after a few moments of silence. “You won’t leave, this time, right?”

“Never,” Jaehyun assures you, his hand running through your hair. “I have never left in the first place.” 

A soft smile makes its way onto your lips as you close your eyes, delighting in the thudding beat of his heart in his chest. His fingers continue to play with the strands of your hair, his breathing calming to your ears, lulling you as if it were a lullaby.

“Please talk to me,” you whisper, just a few seconds before sleep overtakes you. “Tell me about yourself. I want to hear your voice.”

He takes a few moments of pause, before you hear him breathe in. “My name is Jung Jaehyun,” he starts. “I am twenty-seven years old, I am the son of Jaejin and Shinae Jung, I have three brothers, my favourite colour is white, I love spring, I like to sing,” he pauses again, and you feel him press a tender kiss against the hair on the crown of your head.

“And I am in love with you.”

-----

The rising sun is warm against your face as you gaze at the gradient sky above you, hues of purples turning into deep oranges before coming together into a light blue. The clouds move laggardly against the beautiful sky; in the distance, you can hear the ocean waves crashing against the shores of the Amalfi coast, the scent of salt-water calming to your nerves as you take in a deep breath. The sky drenches you in an orange hue as you wrap your satin chiffon robe around you tighter, the slight breeze that blows against your form causing the foliage decorated on your balcony to dance in groups. You hear the sound of the door that separates your balcony landing from your hotel room, and a smile teases your lips when you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“You’re up early,” his breath his warm against you ear as he holds you tightly, eyes gazing at the view alongside you. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Just enjoying the view.” you reply, resting your head against his as he slowly begins to sway you back and forth. Your hands snake around his arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers ghosting over the wedding ring wrapped around your finger. “Are the kids still asleep?”

“Yes,” he whispers, his arms secured around your form. He chuckles lightly against your ear. “The two of them were snoring before I walked out here. It was adorable, actually.”

“How cute,” you coo, smiling fondly. “Maybe we should take them to the beach today! It’s been a long time since I’ve swam in the ocean.”

“We should; for now though...” he answers, voice turning low. “The kids won’t be up until a few hours.”

“Oh shush, you pervert,” a giggle passes your lips as you lightly hit his arm, which only causes him to chucke once more before tightening his hold on you slightly. “Let’s just enjoy this beautiful view for now.”

“This view is nothing compared to you.” he teases you, amusement clear in his voice as you feel his smile against your ear. 

“Goodness, Jung Jaehyun,” you tsk. “You’ve gotten so corny.” 

To wake up every day to the sight of Jung Jaehyun’s face is something that you would have only thought of as a dream years ago; to feel his hands wrapped around you in safety as sunlight pours in every single morning is a sensation you would have never thought to have. Gone were the early mornings of his absence, acknowledgements and memoirs only left behind with a crude or romantic note, traded with the blessing that adorned both of your ring fingers. 

The wedding was held at a small, humble chapel, held only a month after the both of you had found each other again. Guests of those who are important to the both of you attended with their valour and blessings - Irene, at first, was shocked with what had turned out, but after conversing with your now-husband and realizing that all that she had heard was nothing but false words, only tears of happiness lined her eyes when she saw you walk down the aisle. Johnny and Ten were there as well, joy clear in their demeanours as they congratulated the both of you - you had also discovered that both Johnny and Jaehyun had mended their brotherly relationship, laughs and kind gestures traded between them at the following reception. You had wished for your mother to be there as well, perhaps to show her that you really were able to find love that isn’t fake, as she had believed, or perhaps to see her bear tears for your happiness. 

And although your wedding was rushed and deftly planned, a few quirks showing up throughout the ceremony and reception, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Especially the moment when you finally sealed your love with a kiss at the front of the altar, the sensation enough to drown the sounds of your guest’s cheering in front of you. 

And as the years passed, you only found yourself falling more and more for Jaehyun, the same excitement gracing your nerves every day you were to hold his gaze, to point a smile at him, and to press your lips against his. Even now, after becoming parents to two of the most beautiful children, another one on the way; even now, when the slightest of crow’s feet line the sides of your eyes, and the first inklings of gray hair are beginning to grow from his scalp; even now, when you’re so used to waking up to his calm face in the early mornings - you still find yourself falling ever the more in love with him.

Jaehyun chuckles slightly, the vibrations of his voice tickling the skin of your neck as he presses tender kisses against it, his hands slowly ghosting over the slight bump that began to protrude from your stomach’s form. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Jung.”

And as you stand there, relishing in the view of the beautiful golden sky whose ocean underneath casts a reflection that is enough to make your jaw drop as well as the warmth of the man whom you love and loves you just as dearly back, you feel an emotion that you haven’t felt in years; an emotion that you know will stay with you for a long time.

You are happy.

FIN.

[songtoyou]

Mr. Evans and the Congresswoman - Part 2

Paring: Chris Evans x Politician Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,858

Warnings: Political topics such as Biden, Harris, our current White House occupant and the current administration. 

Description:  It is the week of the DNC and Chris is once again interviewing you for A Starting Point. 

A/N: The DNC inspired me to write a second part for this story.  This is pure fiction as I do not know what Chris believes when it comes to politics and policy issues. This is a complete work of fiction.

I do not permit my work to be to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Note: Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

"Hi, Congresswoman Y/L/N?" Chris Evans asked with a smile.

He was once again interviewing you for ASP. This time it was during the week of the Democratic National Convention. Chris and Mark had already talked to other politicians such as Senator Cory Booker and Representatives Ro Khanna and Alma Adams. You were the last elected official he was slated to interview to wrap up the DNC week.

Truthfully, Chris was happy to get the chance to talk with you again. Your previous interview for ASP was such a hit that it garnered a lot of attention from fans and the media. However, it was not because you helped bring more legitimacy and attention for ASP, but instead, Chris found himself genuinely admiring you.

"Hi," you said to Chris, giving a small wave through the Zoom screen. "I told you to call me by my first name."

"I know, but I still want to show respect," Chris responded with a teasing smile. Was he mildly flirting with the congresswoman? Yes, but he had no shame in doing so. "How are you? You are looking well."

"I am doing well. Thank you. How about you?"

"Same. Just trying to stay sane through everything. I'm actually currently in London. Working on a project." Chris admitted.

"Uh oh. You better be staying safe and following the right procedures and protocols," you lightly reprimanded him.

"My fans ratted me out. They found where I was just by the hotel door. Can you believe that? That is some FBI-level investigating, right there. I'd be impressed if I weren't also terrified of the lengths some of these fans will go to scout my location," Chris ranted. He did not understand why he was sharing this with you, but a part of him felt comfortable doing so.

"That…is quite impressive, I must say. Creepy. Scary. But impressive. You need to learn how to put in a Zoom background. It would solve all of your problems," you suggested to him.

"I would, but I'm technology deficient. Maybe I should look up some Zoom tutorials on how to do it. Give it a try."

"There is no try…only do," you advised cheekily.

"Now you're quoting Yoda. A woman after my own heart," Chris replied. He knew he needed to refocus. "So, as you can tell, Mark won't be joining us for this interview. I'm going to hit record if that is okay?"

"Okay. I'm ready when you are," you said.

When the record notification appeared on screen, Chris introduced you and immediately went into the first question.

"How do you think the DNC is going so far, particularly how this year is more of a virtual setting rather than in-person due to COVID-19?"

"Despite not having the big in-person celebration/gathering, I think the virtual setting is working very well. Better than I expected, actually. It gives off a more inclusive and intimate vibe to the DNC that we haven't felt before. I like the whole documentary approach and feel to it," you replied honestly.

"Were you excited that Joe Biden chose Senator Kamala Harris as his running mate?" asked Chris.

"Oh my God! I was so happy that Vice President Biden chose Senator Harris as his running mate. Like, my staff and I were beyond ecstatic. There is no one better to be Biden's running mate than Harris. She is amazing. Such an inspiration. I'm not going to lie, but I'm really excited for the debate between her and Pence."

That made Chris laugh. "Yeah, me too. Senator Harris really knows how to pull all the punches. Her nomination as VP has been met with overall positive response. The Trump Administration and Republican pundits appear to have a hard time painting a negative image of Harris. Why do you think Trump and Fox News are struggling to provide a negative image for her?"

"That is an excellent question. The public's overwhelming response to Harris' nomination is because 1.) she is the first black and south Asian woman to be on a major presidential ticket, and 2.) she is likable and charming. She has this exuberant energy that attracts people to her. You know, black and brown women and girls finally have someone that looks like them running for the second-highest office in the land. That is huge!

"I also have to wonder if people have smartened up in the last four years and won't tolerate the…hypocrisy, sexism, and misogyny…in this case misogynoir that is thrown towards Senator Harris from the media, political pundits, social media bots, etc. So, what we are seeing with Trump and Fox News struggling to attack her is because…well…they just aren't smart. All we have seen from Trump in his attacks against her is that she was mean to Kavanaugh when questioning him during his nomination process. But none of what Trump says holds up because we all know that smart, confident women intimidate him," you finished off your point.

"There is also the left…or more of the progressive left who are unhappy with Biden choosing Harris," Chris spoke up and continued, "They say she is a cop and put people away for weed. That she took kids away from parents when the kid didn't show up for school. That Harris is too conservative. What do you say to that?"

"All of that is…you know…. Senator Harris one of the most policy progressive senators we have. Her voting record is more progressive than Bernie Sanders. All people have to do is research her time as a district attorney and Attorney General for California to find out what she actually did concerning policy. But as we both know, people nowadays don't know how to critically think, which scares me. Progressives need to look at the overall big picture. This election in November is crucial. We are in the fight for our democracy, for our country, and for our lives…literally."

"I talk with my brother, Scott, all the time about certain political issues," mentioned Chris. "He is a tad more progressive than I am. I can admit that I tend to be more centrist. The district you represent is a mix of blue and red areas; how do you balance opposing views from your constituents?" 

You took in a deep breath before you answered. That was a loaded question. Representing a district that was not solely red, or blue could be difficult from time to time. You wanted to be respectful of the different viewpoints from constituents, but maintaining a neutral balance was hard and frustrating at times. 

"The majority of Americans are centrist/moderates. You need a balance of both liberal and conservative policies. Bipartisanship is crucially important when developing and passing laws. We are currently seeing an overt of one-sidedness while sabotaging the other side, which is detrimental to our country's growth. It is important to reach across the aisle to talk with those who may have opposing views than you. At the end of the day, people just want to feel that their concerns are heard and valued. We all want to feel that way. So, as an elected official, I make sure to take the time to talk with those in rural areas, along with urban areas, about their issues and concerns," you shared.

"Do you ever get any pushback from Trump supporters in the red areas?" Chris inquired.

"Well, it is important to note that not all residents in rural areas are Trump supporters. They just tend to keep that to themselves. I have actually talked to Trump supporters in blue areas. We can never and should never assume that one area has this type of person and vice versa. I learned that the hard way when I was campaigning for city council early in my career," you revealed to Chris with a small chuckle. "But overall, my constituents will talk with me and have been respectful. Some of the concerns that have been shared with me do fall under the QAnon conspiracy theories, which do disturb me, I'll be honest. Um…when being confronted with someone who has that extreme of ideals, it is important to remain calm and not to come off combative. Meaning that I have to remind myself that I am not quite dealing with a rational person. The only thing that I can do is calmly talk to the person and respond back with facts. Either they listen or brush me off and call me a radical lefty."

"The majority of people are good, like you said," Chris reminded you.

"That's right. It's a good mantra to live by. I think the American people are tired and have been tired for the past four years with this Administration. We need a sense of normalcy and decency. Compassion and empathy, which were two of the big themes during the DNC. This week was a nice reminder that we, as a country, can have that again."

"I agree. Very well said. You always end on a positive. I appreciate that. Thank you, Congresswoman Y/L/N, for taking the time to talk with me. You always provide great insight into the world of politics and your experience as an elected official," said Chris and ended the recording. "That was really great, Y/N. I know Mark, and I really appreciate you taken the time to do these interviews for ASP," Chris added.

"Oh, it is no problem. Like I said before, I like what you both are doing with the site. Are you happy with how everything turned out?" you asked him.

"Yeah… it's…it took a while to just get the website up and running. I know there is still work that needs to be done. Some areas need to be fixed, but with a project like this, we can adjust. There is more room for improvement and growth," Chris communicated to you.

You nodded in agreement. "Politics is a whole different ballgame. Not many people are willing to venture into the field. It can cause a lot of annoyances and headaches. So, hats off to you, my friend," you said, giving Chris a salute.

"Thank you. Well, I better let you go. I know you must have a million things on your plate."

"Ah yes, I have to go and save the United States Postal Service from corruption. Talk to you later, Chris. Take care," you waved goodbye and signed off.

Chris had to admit, he was in awe of you. There was something about you that fascinated him. None of the elected officials he and Mark talked to for ASP had the liveliness you had. You were not jaded or defeated by the system, at least not yet, since you were still considered a junior member of congress. Chris hoped that the energy and enthusiasm you had for politics and helping people would not diminish. When his Uncle Mike was still a congressman, he shared with Chris that D.C. can cause a lot of strain on a person's values and beliefs. "I have seen too many of my colleagues succumb to the pressures of dirty politics," Uncle Mike once said.

Chris just hoped that you would not succumb to those pressures.

[dnarez]

Chapter 4

When the text is like this someone is speaking in English.

......

Waking up to the sun on your back was the best feeling ever.

As you moved on the bed you noticed that your dad had already woken up and probably was on the run of interviews, he said he would be late since the Straw hats will give him a welcome back party, and since it's an "adult party" you shouldn't go.

After changing and going to the kitchen, you saw a note on the fridge, by the super curvy and readable letter it was totally your grandpa.

'Good writing, at least I can read it normally'

Your dad had the typical Doctor's writing, that you learned how to read with time, is like a whole new language.

On the letter your grandpa was telling you to be careful when going out, remembering you that you shouldn't use your quirk unless you felt threatened, some money and a key to the house, he told you to buy something to put on it so that you would know that it was your key.

'So good to be back Grandpa' you smiled and pocket the money and the key.

Taking a traditional American breakfast with homemade pancakes with honey was what you needed for energy.

'Let's go explore!!!'

Taking your cellphone with you, you went outside and took a deep breath.

'Maybe I could find something to do about my future if I walk around'

While walking around you saw that you live next to the train station, a park that has a huge lake, a lot of beautiful houses, and a street with a lot of commerce, a bento box business, small cinema, pharmacy, restaurant that has coffee and curry, but you don't like coffee very much.

There was a bathhouse, even if it was in Tokyo it seems like it had their own world.

You decide to venture farther, still keeping note of the streets names, you lived in New York your entire life, there was no way you didn't knew how to act and the basics of "survival" in a big city.

With a notepad in hand you made your own mini map of the area where you now lived.

After a few hours of drawing the map and walking around you were tired, it was true that Japan had vending machines every place, you wonder how the refill so many of these as you buy some weird flavored Fanta.

"Peach Flavor? How do they do this???" You glare at the can in your hand a little and decides to take a deep breath and drink it. "Oh my god! This shit is good!"

You sat at the bench and drink it happily.

'It's already afternoon! Maybe I should search for a school around here, for what I know it's the place to go to when an earthquake hit us... I hope it doesn't!' You shiver from the thought and goes back to walking after finishing the weird, but tasty peach soda.

As you walk, and ask around, you finally find the school before the sun start to set.

You see the gates open and assume that the students had gone home already, stopping in the middle of the way to add the school and a few more stores that you found while walking, you know that you could just use Google, but you like to hand draw maps, it's very calming.

Someone practically shoves you out the way, making you fall on your ass.

"Watch where you're fucking going!" Looking at the person at fault you see an angry teenage boy, that had an extremely spiky hair, and reminded you very strongly of the old Pomeranian your old classmate had.

"Are you fucking deaf by any chance?? Aren't you going to apologize? Do you even have manners?" The boy clicked his tongue at you, his voice was loud, he reminded you of Zoro and Sanji at the same time, what a weird guy.

Getting up on your own and huffing, you kick his leg. "Asshole! It's your fault too! If you were looking where you're going you wouldn't have bumped on me or is this a pathetic way of you trying to flirt?" You cross your arms and tilted your head to the side.

The angry boy snatched your textbook from your hands and looked through it.

"Hey! Give it back! You shouldn't do this type off stuff you bully!" You try to take it back, but he easily avoids your hands.

"Another damn nerd around here! You gotta be fucking kidding me... HEY!" He saw the note book 'floating' to you.

"Are you some kind of wannabe Villain? If so you are very good at that, I can introduce you to my grandpa if you want it" you say while putting your textbook on your backpack. "He likes rough boys like you"

"WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO MEET YOUR OLD GEEZER??? AND WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY 'VILLAIN WANNABE'??? I'M GOING TO BE THE NUMBER ONE HERO YOU HEAR ME?!!!"

"Ouch... my ears... do you have some type of voice quirk? If so you should be careful to not hurt anyone with it" you say not caring about his attitude, your father's friends were like this one day, some even tried to kill you or your dad, so someone shouting at you doesn't really bother you.

"YOU ARE TRYING TO FIGHT ME!?" Some guys come running to him and start to rile him up, at his hand you see small explosions.

"Don't fuck with me, you useless bitch!" They get bigger, and he tries to blow your face up, but with the movement of one finger his arm is raised to the air where his explosion hoes off.

"Okay, fuck you, I'm going to another place that isn't near you" you start to go away, but he grabs your arm.

"WE ARE NOT DONE HERE!" He put his other arm down, "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR QUIRK?"

You scoff at him, but before you can say anything you hear someone calling your name.

You look at the school entrance and smile wildly at Robin who had some papers in hand and what looked like to be a heavy bag of books.

"Robin-san! Oh! Our would it be Robin-sensei?" You smile at her, the Pomeranian realize your arm from his strong grip, leaving a hand mark.

She chuckles and pat your head "Right now you can just call me Robin, when I'm teaching you anything you call me sensei, okay?" She ignores the boys and put her hand on your back, pushing you to her black car "Let me give you a ride, we can talk on the way to your house"

"Okay! Bye angry guy!" You say as you enthusiastically wave at the said guy "see you around!"

You get inside the car and Robin too, driving you off to your grandpa's house.

On the way she started to talk to you "You are more friendly than I thought you would be"

"There's no time to be shy, I want to make some friends around here, I know that I won't be able to go out that much after the classes start, so I want to have someone from outside to be my friend"

She smiled at you "Do you want help? Me neighbor's son is very sweet, he's also very lonely and doesn't have friends for what I know, I think you two would be friends very quickly"

You nod enthusiastically, "yes please!" Your stomach starts to ramble "oh! I forgot to eat this afternoon!"

"Let's go to the mall then, I pay"

"Woo-hoo! I also need to buy a keychain for my house key, there must be some cute ones at the mall"

...

When you get there you notice the differences between their mall and the US malls, there wasn't many, but you liked this one better.

Robin took you to eat some sushi, you both ate a lot, then she took you to eat ice cream, they looked like bunnies with the mini chocolate bars on top.

You looked around one of the shops for a keychain, until one in specific got your attention.

"So cute!" Robin chuckled at your reaction.

"I think it suits you, and you can give one for your Roci-san and other for Law"

You give her a big smile and run to the cashier to buy it.

You both spend the rest of the day together chatting and having fun.

Robin takes you home when it got dark, you kissed her goodbye and went inside seeing your dad cooking with a frown and your grandpa glaring at his phone.

Looks like something happened...

[gustafsnightangel]

A Softer Side Part 2

Hunt and Strand lived, breathed, and ate the case until they had exhausted all avenues, only then did they decide to stakeout Donovan’s place.

“It’s like four days until his kids birthday and he’s still in town, what gives?” Hunt asked from the back of the van as he watched Donovan’s car pull up.

“A few options, he isn’t our guy, he’s snatching closer to home, or he’s paying someone else to get their hands dirty as he’s retired living the life of luxury.” Karl quipped sarcastically.

“In a run down duplex. Sorry, I’m not buying.” Jerry huffed.

“Me either. He’s dirty, we just gotta find the dirt.” Karl’s eyes narrowed as the trunk of Arthur’s car opened. Snatching the camera with the telephoto zoom lens he zeroed in on the shopping bags.

“You got something boss?”

“Shopping.” He stated and clicked away as Jerry watched the images come up on his laptop screen. “Hmmmm.”

“Hmmm indeed.” Hint said scanning the photos. “Why would a guy in his sixties, living alone need feminine hygiene products and diapers?”

“Damn good question.”

“He’s stocking up.” Jerry said quietly.

“He is, hey run the plates.” Karl smiled. “He’s changed cars, that’s not the same one he had last week when we came here.”

“Derek Strider, age 57, black hair, that’s dyed because it was a sandy blond when we met last week. Says here he’s a retired school teacher. Helps out at, oh fuck me.” Jerry said a moment later, and spun the laptop around for Strand to see.

Karl almost went nuclear. A fucking orphanage, is this guy for real? “Get Meekland on the phone, right the fuck now.” He snarled and Jerry opened a line.

Strand relayed the information and Jerry, wisely, kept his mouth shut.

“I’m not asking for a warrant yet ma’am, I’m asking for someone to go sit on the orphanage over the next few days to see what this guy does.” The line went silent for a few moments.

“You’re sure?”

“Somethings off Sarah, we can’t ignore it.”

“Very well, I’ll have someone assigned to you this afternoon.” She snapped.

“Thank you.” The line went dead.

“You guys really hate each other don’t you?” Jerry said quietly.

“No, just... we irritate each other, oil and water.” He chuckled, let him think they hated each other, it was better than I’m banging the boss. “What type of security do you think he has on that house?”

“Considering what he’s hypothetically hiding, I’d say a lot.”

“Hmmm.”

“What hmmm, I don’t like that hmmm.” Jerry said cautiously.

“He’s going to go out at some point and I want to have a snoop around.” Strand murmured.

“You can’t go in...”

“I didn’t say I was going in, I want to look around.” He shot back. “You knock on the front door while I wander around the back.”

“If we go in without a warrant.”

“I’m well aware of what happens, don’t sweat it kid, I’m not about to blow this lead by entering without a warrant.” Not yet he thought.

“Ok then, when?”

“Discretely call the orphanage and ask what time the volunteers come in, tell them your interested in helping out.” Karl lifted the camera back up as Arthur ventured out to the car again as Jerry made the call.

******

“He’s heading to the orphanage.” Jerry confirmed.

“And you know this how?” He asked sarcastically.

“Because Wainwright just texted me that he’s over there and our boy just got out of his car.” Hint smiled.

“Good, let’s go.” Karl stalked to the house with purpose, his long legs eating up the road. Signaling to Jerry, he went around the back. He heard the kid knock on the door and wait, the polite investigator just tying up loose ends. Strand committed the layout of the rear of the house to memory, the storm shelter door which was oddly out of place against the abandoned garden shed along the back fence. Glancing at the neighbors yard, their storm shelter was against the house. Hearing Jerry’s second knock and polite call of Mr. Donovan he ventured along the rear of the house, studying every weather beaten board, every window. Nothing out of the ordinary. Taking out his phone he snapped a few photos and walked toward the garden shed, now here was some security. “What are you hiding behind a rusty tin shed Arthur that needs a high end, high priced military security system?” He muttered to himself and snapped a few pictures of the lock and the storm shelter which also has a lock. The back entrance to the house was also tightly secured, he needed blueprints and a warrant.

******

Climbing back into the van Karl uploaded the photos from his phone to Jerry’s computer and gave him detailed information about the locks and where to find someone to break them. He also had him pull the county blueprints of the area.

“Ex military.” Strand said as if that alone explained everything. “They don’t ask questions and get the job done. It’s our last resort if we can’t get the warrant.”

“We’ll lose our asses if we go in without a warrant.”

“I will, you won’t be coming in if it gets to that point, because I won’t be arresting him.” He said darkly and let the kid see the rage and hatred simmering beneath the calm facade that was Karl Strand. “If it is who we think it is, I’m not letting him slip through again. This time I’ll end the fucker.”

“Fair enough.” The kid gulped.

“Set up one of the remote wireless cameras on the house and we can monitor from the office for the night. I want food and a fucking shower.” He was beat. They’d been jammed in the van for nearly a week but it was paying off, they had leads, they were following cautiously.

“Can do boss.” Karl climbed into the drivers seat while Jerry took care of the camera and they headed out once everything was online.

******

Strand went out for burgers again after his shower and walked into the conference room as Jerry was finishing up with Wainwright on the phone, the camera they’d set up showed Donovan’s car back in the driveway at the house.

“Our boy home for the night?” He asked placing food in front of the rookie and taking a seat.

“Yeah, got in about ten minutes ago. Wainwright’s gonna hang in case he scouts the orphanage out tonight.”

“Good.”

“He also setup a wireless camera so we can see the building, front and back.”

“Even better.” Karl studied the orphanage, entries, exits, windows. “Pretty secure.”

“Reasonably, the younger kid section more than the main building.” Jerry said biting into the burger.

“Begs the question of how? How’s he gonna do it Jerry?”

“How much does it cost to legally adopt?”

“Chump change to what he’s getting for them. But no, not legally adopt, too much of a paper trail, too many questions.” Karl chewed on that thought. “I wonder...”

“You wonder what?”

“I wonder if he’s visiting other orphanages.” Strand mused out loud.

“Fuuuck! I didn’t even think of more than one. It would be a bold fucking move to snatch them from the orphanage though.”

“Yeah.” Karl said wistfully as his brain ticked over each scenario. “I’d wait.” He murmured.

“Wait for what?”

“I’d wait for the kids to be adopted.” He sat up abruptly and started typing. “Cross check all the orphanages in the last few states he’s hit with parents that have adopted only to then have the child kidnapped a little while later. That’s going to be a short fucking list, at least I hope it’s shorter than the list we have.” They sat and tossed theories around as the computers churned through data. They both fell silent as the chime from the computer informed them of a hit.

“Shit.” Karl scrubbed his hand over his face. “I was hoping I was fucking wrong.”

“Me too, but it’s more weight for a warrant.”

“Ok let’s get to work.” He sighed as the hits came in, a slow trickle of more names he’d add to his list.

“He used more than one orphanage in New York State, Ohio, and Colorado.” Jerry said in awe at the amount of names popping up. “This is crazy.”

“It is, but what’s the bet you just found your milk money.”

“No we found their prime merch, the milk money will be the homeless that can be cleaned up and sold for a quick $20K.”

“Let’s get it together, I’ll call Meekland in the morning and disturb her weekend.” He grinned, in more ways than one.

“Oh she’ll love you for that.” Jerry said sarcastically.

“You sassing me boy?” Strand growled.

“No sir absolutely not.”

Karl couldn’t contain the chuckle, the kid was all right for a rookie.

******

It was 3 am Saturday morning when Strand called it a night. They were both wrecked.

“Go home, get some sleep Jerry. Good work these past few weeks.”

“Thanks boss but if you’re staying so am I.”

“I’m not, I’m heading out. We can’t help these kids if we’re falling asleep mid-takedown. Rest.”

“You too.” He said and collected his coat and headed out.

Strand was kicked back staring at his board when Meekland stepped in. “Making progress?”

“Slowly, but yes.” He eyed her carefully, damn he was in the mood to fuck her hard. “If he sticks to pattern he’ll move on the 17th kidnapping the first kid.”

“We can lockdown the orphanage.” She assured him and he smiled.

“He won’t take the kid from there, it’ll be from the family that just adopted their new baby girl.” He snarled.

“Oh fucking shit Karl.” She breathed. “Seriously?”

“That’s how I’d do it and there’s a pattern with previous states and families that have adopted.”

“Who’s he going to hit?”

“I don’t know. There are multiple adoptions each day and he visits more than one orphanage, each with a different ID. We’re still working that angle. It wasn’t until a few hours ago we were thinking it was just him and a lone operator, now I’m thinking mob or syndicate.”

“Jerry heading home?”

“Yeah, as am I. We need sleep. There’s nothing more I can do for her tonight.”

“You really think she’s still with him don’t you?”

“I heard her screaming when we were close fifteen years ago Sarah, I fucking know she exists.” He stood and pulled his coat on, jamming his hands into the pockets.

“Want to hit the bar?” Which was their code for take me home sir?

“I do, but I’m beat to hell. I need sleep.”

“Go and sleep, we can swing past after lunch.” And with that settled she turned on her heel and left.

******

He knew he should have said no to Sarah, but damn it a man has needs and she was more than a willing participant. The drive home to his downtown apartment was blissfully short given the time and for once the doorman wasn’t at his post to talk his ear off. He needed his brain to shut down for a good twenty four, a solid eight and a good fuck would suffice. Once inside he darkened the room, took a long hot shower and let the day and the case fall away. Crawling naked under the covers he let sleep claim him hard.

******

Her text tone woke him, Sarah was on her way. Slipping on a pair of lounge pants that hung low on his hips he padded out to fuel up with coffee and eggs he hoped were still good. He was clearing his dishes when Sarah knocked.

“You look like shit.” She said gruffly and handed him a bag of fresh bagels.

“Good morning to you too sunshine.” He chuckled and let her in.

“Eat your bagels.” She smirked.

“I’ll save them, I just had eggs. What is it you want Sarah?” He asked sternly.

“You.”

“I thought you had a someone special?” He joked.

“Apparently not as special as the blond bimbo on his arm last Thursday.” She snapped. Ahhhh he thought, that would explain the moodiness these past few days.

“I’m not relationship material Sarah you know that, this is just sex.”

“Sex is all I fucking want right now.” She spat and his eyebrow raised.

“On your knees.” He growled. “You forget your place little one.” She dropped to her knees, eyes never leaving his. “Bedroom.” He barked when she went to touch him, the slight flinch reigning her in. He knew what she needed from him, what she craved when she was like this. Watching her crawl on all fours to the bedroom he finished his coffee and devoured a bagel, she would wait, time it’s own restraint.

She was kneeling at the side of the bed, her usual spot, when he came into the room and shut the door. Belt in hand he stood behind her, looming, his presence enough to have her submit to him. When her head bowed he sat on the bed in front of her and hooked a finger under her chin forcing her to look at him.

“You know not to take that tone with me little one.” He growled. “Across my lap, you get ten.” He saw the realization in her eyes that they wouldn’t be a soft ten either. “Stand.” He commanded. Once she stood she kept her head bowed, hands nervously twitching in front of her. “Take your shirt off.” He purred, the slight smile tugging his lips as her hands shook while fighting the buttons. It was arousal over fear, Sarah had never feared him, nor should she. This was their game, mutually beneficial, equally satisfying. He drank in her curves, the swell of her breasts as she stripped the blouse from her body. “Now your skirt.” His voice husky with need of his own as his eyes followed the fabric down her legs to pool at her feet. She waited, knowing he was in control, he would tell her when to move.

“On the bed, across my lap.” He said after he took his time devouring every inch of her with his eyes. Holding out his hand she took it to steady herself as she got into position. “Hands.” He murmured, the command in his tone unmistakable. Binding her wrists with the belt he secured them comfortably in the swell of her spine. She’d come prepared with her hair already in a tight braid, the long rope like tail enough for him to wrap around his hand for a good grip when he was ready. “Count them out little one.” He soothed as his hand circled her ass cheek ready to strike.

He drew his hand up and back and slapped her hard. The crack of skin against skin echoed around his bedroom.

“One sir.” She said defiantly.

The second strike caused her to whimper, the large red hand print blooming on her skin.

“Two sir.”

With each strike she relinquished control, he could feel her submit to him further.

“Five sir.” She choked as the tears came. He didn’t hesitate, knew that this was what she needed. Wrapping her braid around his hand he fisted it and pulled her head back gently before striking her again.

“Six sir.” She sobbed, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Nearly there little one. He purred and brought his hand down sharply.

“Seven sir.” He felt her let go, the last of her stress and tension falling away as he soothed her ass cheek before striking again.

“Eight sir.” Her sob shook her body.

His fist tightened in her hair as he gave her the last two strikes, both harder than the rest of them.

“Ten sir.” She cried, as he released her hair gently and soothed the pain from her scalp and her glowing hot cheek.

“Will you talk to me in that tone again little one?”

“No sir.” She whimpered.

“Up you get.” He urged and he helped her up and into his lap, her wrists still bound.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“I know you are.” He kissed her forehead, the need for her to feel safe was as important as the release the rough session would bring her.

“Be a good girl now and hop up.” He said, his hand steadying her as she unfolded herself from his lap. Fingers stripped the remaining lace from her body, those curves enticing him to play. Once she was naked he cupped her face in his hands and devoured that beautiful mouth. “Such a good girl.” He purred as she stood there and let him take her as he wanted, touch her as he wanted.

He wasn’t a gentle lover, and never had been, he didn’t do it with the premise of intentionally hurting someone, but his handling was rough. Gripping her wrists he held them forcefully as he took and touched. Releasing them he positioned her face down onto the mattress, his huge frame towering over her. Nudging her knees to widen her gripped her hips hard to bring her up on her knees, that perfect ass presented ready for him to fuck. “Wider.” He growled and nudged her knees open, the whimper making him smile. She’d been begging for him to take her like this and hard for weeks. He left her there, poised for the rough hard fuck she’d asked for while he stripped, his cock aching to be buried inside her, to feel her. He opened the nightstand drawer and placed the vibe on the bed for later, she would come and come hard today.

She wiggled her ass as his tip pressed against her entrance and his hand coming down sharply on her ass cheek. “Don’t test me.” He snarled. He teased her, tormented her to breaking point, the tears and whimpers fueling his own lust. With a sharp thrust of his hips he buried himself deep, her body shaking with the force of their pelvises meeting. Hers was a guttural groan at finally being filled with him, his own grunt equally as loud as he held her hips painfully tight and began to take her.

Strand fucked her hard, his own tension and stress of the weeks past eager to find its own release, the need to fuck it out of his system taking over. Pounding into her he gripped the leather at her wrists and rode her, the sound of their bodies colliding mixing with the grunts and groans of fucking filled the room. He felt her peak, the tightness of her pussy caressing him. Just as she was about to shatter he pulled out, her release ebbing away. His throaty chuckle at her whimper of frustration only spurring him on. “I warned you not to test me.” He snarled, the slick tip of his cock pushing at her puckered hole. It wasn’t often he gave her this pleasure, knew she relished it as much as he did. “So wet for me.” He cooed, the spanking earlier doing its job, her heightened arousal obvious. “You want me there don’t you.” He teased. “Want me buried in that pretty ass.”

“Please sir.” She begged and pushed back slightly to try and force him inside her, desperate to feel him fill her again. The hard slap to her already red ass cheek made her yelp.

“Patients little one or you’ll get nothing.” He growled. “I’ll take my fill and leave you wanting.” She stilled and waited. “Better.” He stroked his engorged cock and made her wait longer, the game drawn out for her pleasure as well as his. Slipping inside her soaked pussy he gave her a few thrusts before pressing against her back door, the tightness around his mushroom tip making him groan. He fed her the tip, her muscles contracting around his head like a vice, her body trembling as she fought the urge to push back onto him.

“Please sir.” She whimpered.

“You want it all don’t you little one?” He inched into her slowly, her breath erratic as she struggled not to come.

“Please sir.” She whimpered.

Once he was seated in her tight ass he drew out and began to thrust, the ease of which he knew she’d prepared for the evening in advance. Working into a rhythm he plunged in taking her hard, the slaps to her ass adding to their mutual pleasure. Leaning over her he placed a hand either side of her head, above the shoulders and fucked her, that soft whimper making him lose his mind as he dominated her. In a swift move he straightened, wrapped her braid in his hand and pulled her head back so her body was bowed back, the other hand at her throat. She was at his mercy, bound and being fucked relentlessly.

His hand dropped from her throat momentarily and reached for the vibe he’d placed there earlier. Switching it on he held it over her clit, the cry of shock and extreme pleasure sharp to his ears. He slowed his rhythm as he eased it inside her pussy, the curved section long enough to sit against her clit. Taking a hold of her throat again he plunged in and felt the vibration ripple up his cock, the groan primal. He took her, hips snapping, pushing him deep into her ass, she was almost screaming in ecstasy.

Feeling her peak he pistoned his hips and fucked her like the primal animal he was, taking what he wanted, everything she had to offer him and more. “Come.” He snarled and squeezed her throat as she exploded. The feel of her milking him had him roar before he spilled his seed, his thrusts erratic and powerful. Both spent he pulled out and released her wrists, her body lax and unmoving as she caught her breath. “Color little one.” He said as he climbed off the bed.

“Green sir.” She panted.

They weren’t one for cuddles and snuggles afterwards, they both got what they needed out of this session and Karl headed to the bathroom to shower. She joined him as he was stepping out to take care of her own personal hygiene. With a towel wrapped around his hips he cleaned up and stripped the bed, virtually erasing the fact they’d fucked here at all.

******

“You know this can’t be a regular thing Sarah.” He said as she stood on his threshold, finger stroking down his crisp blue shirt. “I can’t go through all that shit again.”

“Pity.”

“Were no good for each other.” Except for a quick fuck he wanted to add but thought better if it. He needed to be clear with her again. They had rules and limits for a reason, especially after the crash and burn of their actual relationship years earlier.

“I know Karl, it’s just...” She sighed. “I know.” Leaning in she kissed him sweetly. “Thanks for the session, I needed it.”

“So did I.”

“You know it’s Sunday, you don’t have to go in.”

“I want to see what the our databases spat out.” He said abruptly. He wanted to chase down leads and get ahead of this fucker. “And I think better when I’m staring at the board.”

“I’ll see you around then Strand.”

“Yes ma’am you will.” He said softly and closed the door before she could worm her way back into his heart. He’d loved her once, if a man like him was able to love, but they were just fuck buddies now and it suited him just fine.

******

He didn’t expect to see Jerry at the conference room table, downing coffee and typing furiously.

“You look like a man possessed.” Karl chuckled softly as he shucked his coat and sat to look at the names the computer had pulled, he was loose and relaxed and ready to dig in. “And you shouldn’t be here on your day off kid.”

“You’re here.” He said flatly, continuing on his current train of thought.

“I’m on my own time Hunt, I don’t expect you to be.” Strand said gruffly, he wasn’t a complete asshole to drag the kid away from his scheduled time off.

“You’re here, I’m here.” He said simply. “I’m not looking for overtime, or a pat on the back. I want this prick.”

“It’s personal for you.” Karl said quietly, his gaze studying the rookie as he worked. “Not my business.” He added when the silence stretched. Yes, he thought, you’ll do kid.

“My sister.” Jerry said after a moment as he kept working, though Karl could see the pain and grief etched deep in the kids face when he mentioned her. It had aged him in a heartbeat. “Not this case.” He added quickly. “But you never know, this might give me answers into hers.”

“Unsolved?”

“Stone fucking cold boss.”

“Tell me.” He commanded, he needed to know where the kids head was at.

Strand looked at Jerry and rage looked back, that was something, Karl thought. Anger was good fuel when you had to push through the shit haunting your every step.

“Nutshell version. My sister, Eva, is 16, seven years younger than me, or she would be if she was still alive. I’m not sure she is. She ran away from home and or was kidnapped when she was 10. My mother was adamant she was taken. I’m more inclined to believe Eva took off on some hair-brained fantasy of a better life on her own, even at ten she was a hellion. Cops looked into it and shuffled it to a cold case after not so much as a we’re chasing all leads. They don’t give a shit.”

“Which is why you’re with this agency and not a cop.” Strand added.

“Absolutely.” He said vehminantly. “I’d like to believe she’s still alive, but reading this case and the possibility of her being sold, I’d rather she be dead.”

“Can’t blame you there.” Karl studied the rookie closely. “Is this going to be an issue for you?”

“No sir.” He said strongly. “These kids, the women they are now, deserve everything of me to catch this guy and nail his balls to the fucking wall. If it leads me to answers about my sister then great, if not, I’m ok with that too.”

“There’ll be other cases that blur the lines with your sister.”

“Yep, and it’ll be the same answer then too.” He said matter of factly.

“Good to know.” Karl was pleased with the rookie’s answer. A lot more grit under the shiny new investigator badge than there appeared to be. “What have you got?” He nodded at all the names and figures on the screen.

“I need to figure out what’s driving this and it’s usually money. I set up a phony encrypted account and signed up for all these websites that offer girls of all ages to be purchased. I needed to be in their system to have a snoop around. It’s my guesstimate of the different levels of, dare I call it, merchandise, and payments for each girl, for each username or seller.” He explained.

“You’re looking for a pattern.”

“Exactly.” He pointed at Karl and went back to the printed out spreadsheet in his hands.

“How far does this go back?” Strand asked, the cogs in his head turning with this new information.

“So far only three years. I can get more but it’ll take some time. I’ve already set my computer to pull data.” He turned the laptop around for Strand to see, numbers and names flicking past at an alarming rate.

“How may girls per year?” He asked softly.

“Per user or per website?”

“Both.”

“Gimme a sec.” Jerry’s brow knit in concentration as he fiddled with the spreadsheet on the big screen. “Holy shit!” He breathed out in disbelief.

“Yeah that sums it up.”

“130,000 plus girls a year over the site. 1 to 2 thousand girls, give or take per user. Some users rank higher than others.”

“We look into them all. Split the list of users in half, we run them all. Let’s build the case from our side so when we put these assholes in a cage they fucking stay there.” Karl growled.

“I’ll dig for personal information first to give you a name and username on the site.”

“Do that. I’m calling Meekland, we need more people on this. It’s not just our buddy boy Arthur, not just this handful of sites.”

“We going after them all?”

“We shut Arthur down first, that’s our priority, find the girl, his first girl. We can run the rest in the background.” Karl said as he got some notes together.

“I can set that up. Can I have Wainwright? He knows his shit when it comes to computers and hacking and tech.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He looked at the kid. “I know you’re not in it for the pat on the back, but this deserves one. Good job.” He grabbed his phone and made the calls to Meekland, secured Wainwright for the support and began to dig into the usernames.

******

“Question.” He said into the silence, the hum of the computer fans the only other sound in the room a while later. “Did you cross the sell dates with anything?”

“Not yet.” Hunt answered. “The snatch date would be different to the sell date and we don’t know how long he keeps them.”

“Search for sell dates on our boys three anniversary dates.” He said on a whim.

“You got something boss?”

“A hunch maybe.”

Jerry ran the search on the sellers websites and the spreadsheet on the big screen. “That’s still a lot of girls.” He blew out.

“But look at the ages.” Strand grinned. “That’s the only thing that matches for three of the sellers. The girls are all 16.”

“So he keeps them from infants to 16?” Jerry’s voice choked.

“Grooms them from birth to be the whores they’ll be sold as.” Strand ground through his teeth. “Those are your prime merchandise.” He nodded to the screen. “Look at the price they were sold for.”

“3.7 mil, 6.2, 1.3, 5.4. Auctioned off, not just sold.” Jerry said reading the site.

“Can you find pictures of the girls?” Karl asked.

“They usually don’t have pictures up of prior transactions but I can look. You thinking these are Arthur’s girls?”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

“There’s three usernames though.”

“Oh I bet it’s all his, one for each anniversary.” Strand was deep in Arthur’s head now. “I wonder?” He whispered to himself and opened up his file on the wife as he scanned the account and username list.

“Got something boss?” Jerry asked and grabbed their cups to refresh the coffee that had gone cold.

“Maybe.” He mumbled, brain locked onto the current task. “Did you happen to glance around the inside of his house when you talked to him?”

“A little, I didn’t want to be too obvious.” Jerry sat the coffee in front of Karl and took his seat again.

“Were they’re any pictures or anything of his wife that stood out?”

“He had a portrait of her and a child, well I’m assuming it was his wife and a depiction of their child.” Jerry closed his eyes as if to bring the memory back. “Oh and a strange poem line under the portrait painted on the wall or something. You know how people have those chic signs and sayings and shit? He had one that said.... oh fuck me... wait.” Jerry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled forward to use his laptop. “Fuck! Fucking fuck I missed it before. NevermoreRaven that’s his fucking account username.” Jerry spat. “And he lists all three separate usernames under that one account name. Son of a bitch.”

“So our boy is into some Poe is he?” Karl grinned. “What was the poem line on the wall?”

“Sorrow for the lost Lenore.”

“The Raven by Mr. Edgar Allen Poe.” Strand stood and scrawled it across the board. “What’s the bet Lenore is his wife’s real name. Add an amendment to your report on the Peter Jensen case, tie it in. It’ll give us cause and a bit of weight.” It was a good solid lead and something he could now got to Meekland with to secure a warrant. “Damn good work Jerry.”

“I was stupid, I just thought it quirky and should have followed up, we could have known this earlier.” He spat, angry he’d made a rookie mistake.

“Live and learn kid. Without the website info it wouldn’t seem like much.”

“It would have to you.” He huffed.

“Kid I’ve got nearly twenty years on you.” He snorted as he pulled out his phone to call Meekland again, thing had just swung in his favor. “Run and focus everything on EvermoreRaven. We nail Arthur first, then we go after the others. Let’s not spread ourselves too thin and lose him.” Which is what had happened last time, Karl thought. History would not be repeating itself, his case, his op, this time around, his rules.

“When’s he due to strike again?” Meekland asked, annoyance in her voice at being disturbed again on a Sunday.

“Tomorrow is his kids birthday and the day his wife died. He’ll have his information on who he’s going to snatch and the 16 year old he’s about to sell.”

“Jesus Karl, this is a can of fucking worms.” Her sigh was one of frustration.

“Yeah and it’s going to get messy if we don’t do it right. As much as I want to bust in there and nail his balls to the wall we need to catch him in the act. The snatch and sell needs to go down, transactions completed for it to be worth anything in court, for us to dig deeper and get them all. I need to know where he’s getting all the girls and housing them. I need the warrants, I need a team.”

“You’ll have it.” She said without question. “Send me the list of who you want on this, hand pick the team. I know you Karl.” She said, that unspoken approval of they don’t all have to be department employees.

“Thank you ma’am.” He said gently, and he was thankful, she was giving him free reign which if the op went south it would be her ass too. He’d keep Hunt and Wainwright, the rest would be a team he trusted and knew wouldn’t let shit fall through the cracks. Time to color outside the lines a little, he thought as, he put in a call to Wainwright and was surprised when the guy walked into the conference room ten minutes later. “You working today?”

“I was yeah. Nothing that can’t wait. What do you need?” Karl liked Steven, blunt and no bullshit, much like himself.

“Get with the kid.” He nodded in Jerry’s direction. “He’ll get you up to speed, I have an op to plan.”

“Sweet.”

“You up for a tail?”

“On Arthur? Sure, where and when?”

“He’s going to leave sometime tomorrow for the snatch. I need you to follow him and get it on record, the snatch, the location he’s taking the kid to. It’ll be an infant going in and likely a 16 year old coming out.”

“I don’t think the teen will come out that day boss.” Jerry said softly not really sure if he should speak up.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

[georgemackayhey]

Worth Fighting For (Part : One)

summary: You're entirely certain George is the one. So he hasn't got to put up much of a fight... but in a way, that's all he knows to do.

a/n: Drum roll! I believe this is the moment you've all been waiting for! I'm really excited about this one, too yall. So just know... I'm fully committed to this fic! I cross my heart to update as often as I can, but it maaay be a little slow. I hope yall enjoy the beginning of this labor of love. Let me know what you think, and if you'd like to be tagged!

w/c: 2k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You watched as a dozen grader schoolers fumbled out of the studio door, clutching their mother's hands, some still dancing.

Every Friday, that's all they did. Your job was to teach them how. To the best of your ability, you helped kids learn to let loose through music on the weekends. You took pride in your perfectly crafted playlists and the fun patterned joggers you'd show up in; your favorite being a bright green pair that's pockets turned into dinosaurs when you pulled them out.

When you signed up to teach the weekend classes to a bunch of kids, you figured it would be the easiest job in the world. But the rambunctious group kept you on your toes in more ways than one, and always left you breathless at the end of every Friday. Still, you'd hardly have it another way. How could you wish for more?

Okay sure, maybe it would be nice to afford a car so you could get away from the dreaded city bus. And maybe you'd like to drive your hypothetical car to your very own hypothetical home in the country, one day. But all that empty space would only leave you lonely for now.

Good thing you were busy, these days. There was usually too much going on for you to think of anything besides your schedule. Between Friday dance classes with the kids, you taught private lessons to more serious paying customers. To top it all off you were often called in to choreograph all of the local school's plays and productions, community theater included.

You stayed later this afternoon, to think up a dance between a few props the school choir director dropped off for you to work with. So once your group of kids had flooded down the hall that separated the row of studios from the massive gym in the front of the building aptly named Fit For All, you got to work.

You'd been loaned a large paper mache tree and an old pirate chest to think up a dance around. As you started to move the props to the middle of the room, you found the pirate chest was much heavier than you'd expected. You cursed, using the bit of momentum you gained to pull the thing along, but lost your inadequate grip too soon. The chest came slamming down on your hand with an unsettling boom, and your shriek that followed might have been embarrassing if it didn't hurt so bloody bad.

You pushed the chest away and yanked your hand to your heart in a flash, backing up from the scene as if that would help ease the numb sting

"Y/n? What happened?" A voice thick with concern and hurried in asking echoed through the empty studio. You turned to see a friend of yours... well, someone you'd known for a while now.

George was almost always at the gym, every time you peeked in on your way to the studios in the back of the locally owned community center of sorts. The nights you both headed to the parking lot at the same time, you'd chatter about the weather as he walked to his car, before you stalled at the bus stop.

Once, when he was waiting on a ride from a friend, and your bus was late, you'd stood under the awning out of the rain and talked a little about why you were both always where you were now. George was some sort of trainer, you gathered. His jarringly shy demeanor must have put the kids he worked with at ease. But that's just nearly all you knew about the guy.

"I just- ow- I just lost my grip and-" You tried to explain calmly, gesturing to your stiffened hand with the other, trying to move the fingers that you couldn't quite feel anymore.

George took a few steps to meet where you stood, focusing his eyes on your injury. He brought a hand to your shoulder and gently nudged you out of the room while you went on explaining what happened.

What a sight you must have been. In your bright orange joggers and the t-shirt with spaceship designs you bleached to make it look a little cooler. Your hair mused loose from the tight hold you tried to keep it out of your eyes during this afternoons lesson. Dressed like you hadn't managed to let go of the past, trying not to go woozy from the way your hand pulsed with a steadily growing ache, now.

If you knew George would have been the one to swoop in to save the day, you might have at least applied a fresh layer of lip gloss.

He led you toward the gym, but entered one door too soon. Inside was a small medical station, where the athletes came to find first aid kits and tape for their wrists, but hardly much more. George found an ice pack, though, and asked you a series of questions all of which you failed to answer correctly.

"Your hand is most definitely broken."

"Thanks for coming to the rescue." You shrugged, trying not to let your new blossoming worry show.

"Come on." George waved, lingering in the door way of the tiny medic room. His sky blue eyes were ringed with hints of exhaustion as they considered you for a beat. You stared back, more anxious about the fact that he'd just given you instructions than worried about why. Then, you wondered.

"What?"

"Come on. You missed the last bus till nine."

You floated along at his command, because only a fool would deny him. Your glance crossed the clock on the wall that read a few minutes past when your bus was due at the end of every day. You weren't even thinking about getting home when Geogre pressed the icepack to your knuckles. You were too busy trying to play off the sting.

George turned to make sure you were following close behind, as he started opening the door that flooded out to the car park.

///

So that's how you ended up sitting in the waiting room of an urgent care with a melting bag of ice that's chill numbed the hand you could feel- next to George. He shoved his hands in the pocket in the front of his pale jumper and slouched next to you without a word.

When the doctor came round for you, and confirmed your hand was, of course, definitely broken- you listened to his recommendations and thanked him for the few minutes he spent assuring you the injury could be fixed much easier than most others.

George was still sat in the same lazy position when you came back from getting checked out and halfway fixed up. And when he insisted on driving you home instead of letting you linger at the nearest bus stop, you let him. But you had something else in mind...

"Are you hungry?" You asked, bouncing your knee in the passenger seat of his old, warm car. Its personality shone through the vintage detail, as it's floors and seats were empty of any kind of clutter.

"Are you?" Geogre asked back, casting his bright blue eyes to you for a second before his attention focused back on the road ahead.

"Well, yes. Come to dinner with me. I'll buy since you've been entirely too kind to me this afternoon." You grinned, hopefully. Yeah, you wanted to thank him for wasting a couple hours of his night to help you sort out your situation. But you were also mostly looking for an excuse to spend a little more time at his side.

George was painfully quiet. You hadn't gotten to know him better at all during the couple of luxurious hours he'd spent near you tonight. You were nearly more confused by the guy than you had been back when he didn't know to acknowledge you on your matched leaves from the centre where you both worked. It made you even more desperate to know what he was about.

And for a couple of blocks, you tried to coax him into pulling into the lot of the fanciest place he could think of, in order to repay him properly. But Geogre just chuckled and waved you off.

"How about just DeAngelo's?" Geogre looked to you as he turned the wheel in the direction of the towns most beloved eatery. Frequented by all types at odd hours and as often as one might get away with, without breaking bank. Which was easy, because their exceptional food was just as exceptionally priced.

"Just DeAngelo's? That's like saying, how about we just have the best night ever?" You chuckled, as the blink of a broken stop light stalled Geogre's car behind a few others.

"Okay." George grinned too, a smile you had to pull your oggling stare away from. "Just the best night ever it is."

///

The diner was aptly busy, but you managed to score a cozy booth near the back. Next to a window that might have let in a draft on colder evenings, you had to actually think before reaching for a menu, because your dominant hand was out of commission and, for a dancer, you were embarrassingly uncoordinated.

"Order one of everything you'd like!" You mused, from behind the worn familiar menu. You were the kind who ordered the same thing almost everytime. But there was something about George's presence that made you feel as if you had to peruse the list of options. "Hell, I'll buy the place out if that's what you want."

"Well, I won't ask too much of you just yet." George tossed away the menu in his grasp after only a brief consideration. You had to bring your laminated list a little closer to hide your blush, though.

You both gave your orders to a tired eyed waitress who smiled your way when you remembered her name.

Then there were two.

"So..." You bit your lip, glancing over the vast expanses of the table that separated you from the mysterious and meek George. His piercing blue gaze was already sleepily settled on you as you dared to venture further into small talk. "Boxing, yeah?"

"Yeah," He agreed with a strain. "These days I just train, though."

"Just train." You arched a brow, hoping he picked up on your call back to the way he'd placed the adverb before his decision to come to DeAngelo's- wondering if he meant anything any it now.

"It's work." He grinned, casting his eyes down to your hand that had been given a new home inside an ugly, removable cast.

"I see." You shifted your weight, trying not to visibly squirm under his pretty, intense gaze.

"I like the sport. But I found it wasn't worth all the trouble." Geogre explained, vaguely. You had to bite back a laugh at how withheld he seemed. The way he studied you, as if there was so much on his mind. The way he kept to himself, even as you nudged for him to tell you more. So you tried his trick of keeping your mouth shut and your eyes focused on his. You nodded to George with a smile that insisted he keep talking. That promised you were listening.

And after the waitress left your drinks on the edge of the table as she breezed by, George slowly spoke up again.

"Boxing, it's... the only thing I'm good at. I could never be a banker or a builder or anything. So I'm lucky to have this job."

And you start to get the tiniest hint as to why he sounds so divided. So cautiously passionate. But every time he opens his mouth to answer your questions that you're hoping clear the enigmatic air about him, George only leaves you more complexly mystified.  

Then he asked about you. First, by wondering if the dinner you ordered was up to par. Then by asking if your debilitated hand would give you much trouble dancing. The answer was no, not really. You'd be set back a day and likely rush through recycled show choir moves to teach the kids later. But if anything, you were fine as ever. You'd even venture to say you were very good, but you blamed your calm happiness on the pain killers and went on talking about your work- because Geogre asked.

It wasn't often you got to gush over your job to someone who didn't already know how dearly you loved it. It wasn't often someone who asked about your dancing, to seemingly fill the gaps of conversation, listened as intently as George.

You figured it was because he was eager to bring up Barney. The older gentleman who'd built and ran Fit For All, with his late husband. The pair were interested in so many types of fitness they decided to open a space big enough for their favorite kinds of sports to live. The studios in the back were rented to dancers, yoga classes, and a few odd takewandow lessons. The gym in front was for boxers, bodybuilders and whoever felt like popping round to wear down the tread mill once a week.

According to Geogre, Barney was the one who coaxed him into picking up boxing. And you weren't surprised. Since the passing of his husband, Barney spent most of his time in the building, marveling over the classes and encouraging new faces to come back and get better. He'd watched you take lessons in the very studio you held yours own in now. It was home away from home, and Barney made it so. Even the mild George seemed to light up a little bolder while he yammered on about the owner.

Your history with Bareny was all either of you talked over till your meals were finished.

"How was your just DeAngelo's, then?" You asked, hoping sincerely that you'd treated him to something lovely enough to make up for his helping you, earlier.

"It was pretty close to the best, like you insisted." George chuckled, shoving his plate away as you noshed on the last of your chips.

"Well then we'll just have to come back till it is the best." You smiled coyly, as your waitress floated by to take away your rubbish.

///

George was quiet as ever as he drove you home. But for the first time, you were less mystified by his silence, and far more eager for a chance at asking him twenty questions the next time you got the chance.

When his vintage ride pulled to a stop outside your flat, George offered you a pleasant goodnight as you collected your bag. But before you returned the sentiment you dared to ask one final question. "See ya tomorrow?"

"Probably." George answered in a thin veil of sarcasm. The look in his eyes made his answer seem inevitable. The tone is his voice made it seem like he wasn't done keeping you on your toes. You took the smile on his lips as a good sign either way, as you returned a grin of your own- and thanked George one last time.

And on your skip to the door of your flat, you kept your cool and didn't look back to the guy you'd spent all night trying to get to know. But you crossed your working fingers as you slipped inside and wondered if it'd be entirely too strange if you started to pop round the gym more often.

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