#i have much more ambitious fics in the works but i wanted my first one to be something so innocuous or i'd die of being shy

[gotyouanyway]

OKAY WELL here's my first ever publicly shared fanfic!!

just a short silly little scene where charley has a cold and the doctor is being the doctor about it <3 and c'rizz is there

[lovelyhan]

— melting point ⟢

rumor has it that icy department head of pledis insurance has something going on with her loyal secretary, wonwoo. well, she does—it's just not the kind of behind-closed-doors business one would expect for them to partake in.

★ FEATURING; secretary!wonwoo x afab!oc

★ WORD COUNT; 12.3k words

★ TAGS; coworkers to lovers, revenge fic, angst, smut

★ WARNINGS; blackmailing, manipulation, mentions of past bullying, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; hi... it's been forever, hasn't it? i missed tumblr a lot, and have decided to grace the tags with this fic after months of radio silence heheh ! this was a commissioned piece on twt which i tweaked to fit my tumblr audience better! cheers to 5k followers even in my absence t__t you guys are the best!

★ PS; i'm sorry i can't be bothered to dig up my taglist and tag those who filled it up T T

There’s a saying in PLEDIS Insurance that goes: enjoy your coffee early because once the Ice Queen is in, it’ll turn just as cold as she is. 

Of course, the words were merely thrown around in jest. Something that bored employees come up with in the break room whenever they’re careless enough to think their little jokes won’t reach said ice queen’s ears. But still—they’re just jokes. As long as they worked enough to satisfy their salaries’ worth, Emma the Ice Queen would always turn a blind eye. She might be cold, but she isn’t completely heartless.

Most of the time.

“Good morning, ma’am,” her secretary, Wonwoo, greeted with a curt nod as she entered her office. 

Emma scoffed before setting her things down on her work desk, the frown on her face only worsening when she sees the elegantly wrapped gift box in front of her. “What's this?” 

Wonwoo swallowed thickly, like he was nervous. Wonwoo never gets nervous.

“We have an...unforeseen circumstance,” he prefaced before tapping away on the iPad in his arms. “Sir Leo from the Choi group wants to pursue you.”

“Unforeseen?” Emma repeated. “Wonwoo, this is completely foreseen. Isn't it our from the start is to make them fall in love, only for us to expose their dirty secrets in the end?”

He looked as if he wanted to agree. But after turning the screen of his iPad so Emma could see the article written on some shoddy newsletter, her brows furrowed together in confusion.

A Race for the Inheritance: How the Choi Group’s Next Generation of Ambitious Youngbloods Will Do Everything to Get Their Fill of Old Money. 

The title itself didn’t give Emma much context of what exactly was making Wonwoo—her ever-composed secretary—lose his composure. It’s natural to see the sons and daughters of a powerful business conglomerate fight each other for their rights to the family inheritance. But after reading through what the rest of the article had to offer, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly started to fit.

“They're seeing who gets to get married first?” Emma laughed incredulously before handing the iPad back to Wonwoo. “Does Leo really think he can get me to become his lover—even more so his wife—after everything he did to me in high school?”

Wonwoo breathed in deeply. “Miss Emma, we both know the answer to that. If it were all up to you, you could easily put him to shame and reject him. But his interests somewhat align with the director’s interests as well…”

Ah. Her father’s interests.

“No,” she answered sharply. “Even if he kicks me out of my position, I’m not going to be wed to that prick.”

“Are you sure about that?” Wonwoo sighed before adjusting his glasses. “Miss Emma, we both know you love your work more than anything. And you're chronically attached to this company even if you despise the executives. Sir Leo has good leverage over you, sad to say.”

There was something irritating about hearing Wonwoo call his ex-best friend Sir, as if he was underneath some scumbag of a human being like Leo. But then again, years have passed since then. Lots of things have changed. 

But Emma’s grudges hold steadfast, still.

“Hmph, whatever.” She dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave before unwrapping the gift box in front of her. “Was this from Leo, too? Is he on a deadline or something?”

“Hmm, first one that gets married before December gets the rights to the inheritance,” Wonwoo informed her as he picked the clutter of ribbons off Emma’s desk and pocketed them in his coat for later disposal. “Do you want me to look up the progress of his siblings and cousins? We can sabotage him while it's still early.”

Emma didn’t respond right away—preoccupied with unwrapping Leo's so-called gift. But when she sees a red velvet box with an engagement ring and a folded letter inside, she begrudgingly realized that Leo wouldn’t be as easy a target as her other high school bullies.

No, this man really was rotten to the core.

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you already heard the news. You know what to do, right, Emma?

Or should I say, wifey? ;)

“Send this back to him. Now.”

Wonwoo nodded obediently as Emma pushed Leo's cursed gift box away from her. “Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Like…have someone plant a snake in his bedroom or something?”

Despite the sour mood that Leo undoubtedly put her in this morning, Wonwoo's little idea of a joke made the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. The offer was tempting, but in the end, she shook her head and booted up the PC on her desk instead.

“As much as I want his death by a snake bite to headline the news, Leo doesn’t deserve to get out of this the easy way.” Emma muttered as she started browsing through the hard-drive she’d hooked up onto the computer. “And lucky for us, I finally got the evidence to send his suspiciously prosperous career down into a spiral.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow before taking a peek behind her. “What's that? Money laundering records? Tax fraud?” 

No. It was really something as simple as—

“Footage of a mass orgy he participated in,” Emma casually told her secretary as she clicked on the only video on the hard drive. “Might not look like a big deal compared to what we had to go through with Ezra, but Leo belongs to a family of devout Catholics. Good thing your contact from Leo's favorite bar had some use. All I did was ask around and he quickly spilled all the details with the right amount of money.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he flashed her an impressed look. “As far as I know, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the dirty work for you. Why are you directly involving yourself in matters you can leave to me?” 

The lewd video continued to play on her screen—muted, of course—and one could easily make out Leo Choi's face amongst the crowd of sex-depraved freaks. Once they sent this over anonymously to each and every person who might think that scumbag deserved to inherit his family’s wealth, it would be all over for him.

“‘Cause we’re a team, Wonwoo,” she chuckled. “You’ve done your fair share of work when we took down Gavin and Ezra. But admittedly…I've got more bones to pick with Leo. I think it’s only fair for me to orchestrate his downfall with my own two hands.”

“Right…” Wonwoo agreed with a hint of fondness in his tone that completely went over Emma’s head—far too triumphant with her newfound ammunition. 

“We’re a team.”

But it wasn’t always that way.

Wonwoo was actually more deeply involved in Emma’s mission to exact revenge on the people who’ve wronged her years ago than one would otherwise expect. He’d been best friends with Leo since they were kids, and when they eventually met Gavin and Ezra in their high school basketball team, the four of them were quite inseparable. 

But despite being his best friend, Wonwoo knew that Leo could be quite…off-putting with his behavior sometimes.

“Hey, look at that,” Sixteen year-old Leo scoffed before gesturing towards the loud girl earning amused stares in the cafeteria. “She's so fucking loud. Is she the new transfer student?”

Gavin snickered as he took a bite out of his lunch. “How'd she even get in here? Our tuition isn't a joke, and she doesn't really look like she can afford it. The kid of a maid, maybe?”

“Or she could be one of those financial scholarship kids,” Ezra pitched in with a shrug. “Though she doesn't look very bright if we're being honest.”

Wonwoo didn’t offer anything to the conversation, merely eating his food quietly as his friends talked smack about the new transfer student in their class. Emma Rodriguez was like a piece of meat thrown into a pit of vipers. Some might like her—like the classmates who were howling with laughter because of her antics—but others looked at her with disdain. 

She didn’t belong to any wealthy well-known families like every other kid in their grade. The girl simply popped out of nowhere like an eyesore, according to Leo. Wonwoo didn’t really mind her presence though. She made the boring monotone of his school days a bit more bearable with her energy.

But what Wonwoo thought was just his friends’ surface-level dislike for a girl who behaved differently from the others in their grade turned out to be something else.

Something worse.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what bullying was, and was well-aware that what his friends constantly did to Emma wasn’t something that normal high schoolers did. Leo was the most vicious about it, and Wonwoo never really got to know his reasons for doing all those horrible things. 

But whenever they spotted Emma horsing around in the hallways, Leo would always be the first one to come up to her—calling her names like fraud, gold digger, and the like. Gavin and Ezra followed each and every time, and they were usually the ones who pushed her around for no real reason.

And Wonwoo? Wonwoo was the one who always stood a few feet away every time his friends decided they were in the mood to pick on the transfer student. The one who always stayed quiet and pretended nothing unsightly was happening in front of him.

The one whose gaze Emma always tried to silently catch, hoping he’d be the one to stop his friends from harassing her. 

But he never did.

That cycle of three boys bullying a once bright and bubbly transfer student became commonplace. Before their third year in high school came to a close, Emma suddenly vanished off the radar. She didn’t attend their classes, nor was she there in the completion ceremonies at the end of every school year. 

Most of the kids around Wonwoo didn’t really give two shits about her sudden disappearance. Word around the street was that she transferred out because of the heavy harassment she was getting, not just from his friends, but also the rest of the students from their grade. They didn’t think Emma was funny because of her silly antics and loud jokes anymore.

Everyone started to collectively think of her as a nuisance, and the fact that she had no familial connections to protect herself with only fed into the senseless yet oh-so popular trend of crushing Emma Rodriguez’s hopes and dreams into the ground.

It was almost like Wonwoo was the only person in their entire grade who felt the tiniest bit of pity for her. But he told himself long ago that someone like him had no right to feel sorry for someone he never bothered trying to help. 

The years passed by in a flash. After Emma’s disappearance, Wonwoo quit the basketball team and  completely cut off his friends and everyone else who actively hurt her. He didn’t really know why either—all he knew was that he couldn’t stomach the idea of keeping those connections despite what they drove Emma to do. 

Of course, he knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. But it wasn’t too late to be a decent person, right?

Wonwoo simply went through the motions of graduating high school, then college, before pursuing a career in the vicious world of the corporate hierarchy. But instead of gunning for executive positions like his fellow fresh grads dared to dream, he worked his way up without using his family’s prestige to his own advantage. 

In fact, Wonwoo realized he liked working closely with his bosses. That’s why he became the designated secretary to all the finance department heads who walked through the doors of PLEDIS Insurance. He was content with being a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy who’s at the beck and call of someone else—a tool who worked on the sidelines. He never really wanted to be the face of any company anyway.

But then, in his fifth year on the job, he was told that there were a couple of changes in PLEDIS’ executive board. The boss he’d been working under was set to retire and he’d be replaced with a new one—someone younger and full of promise, as the head of human resources dramatically explained to him. 

It wasn’t really a deal breaker or anything. As long as Wonwoo got paid, he’d gladly work for even the most terrible of people in this industry.

But on the day his new boss was set to start, he was haunted by a ghost from the past instead.

Wonwoo hasn’t spared a single thought for Emma Rodriguez in God knows how long. Yet the moment she stepped into the office, he recognized her almost immediately. There was no trace of that girl people called gold digger and other derogatory names because of her appearance. This was a woman with her head held high—someone who oozed confidence in every stride with a gaze sharper than her winged eyeliner. 

Yet Wonwoo couldn’t be mistaken. This really was Emma Rodriguez.

He wondered if she remembered him, too. The boy who kept quiet about those who bullied her in those few crucial years of her life. Wonwoo even considered apologizing for not doing anything to help her when he should have. 

“Ah, Wonwoo Jeon?” Emma repeated his name with a dismissive air, almost like she was wholly uninterested in him. “The one who just watched when Gavin Kim pushed me in the muddy courtyard at school? The one who pretended not to see when Leo Choi splashed paint all over my uniform? Of course I remember you.”

God. Was this her exacting retribution?

For the next few days since she came into the office, Wonwoo helped Emma get used to the feel of things in the Finance Department. At least, that was his intention. 

From the looks of it, Emma already knew the ins-and-outs of managing a company’s cash inflow and outflow, as well as the other gritty, more technical details that came with accounting for each and every cent. She managed to prepare and present several sets of data that his previous boss had trouble organizing to the current board of directors within two days’ time. 

Her work ethic was admirable—she got the job done quickly and efficiently, and that made her earn the respect of her subordinates faster than Wonwoo had seen them warm up to their previous bosses. It would have been the perfect relationship between the new department head and her employees, if it weren’t for Emma’s stone cold behavior towards other people. 

Not only did she look different from the Emma he knew in high school, but she acted differently too. Wonwoo couldn’t picture this Emma purposely making a fool out of herself just to make the people around her laugh. This Emma wanted the entire team to get the work handed to them done as soon as possible, and if they did, the most they’d receive in return is a mere nod in approval and nothing else.

It was for that reason that employees would start calling her the Ice Queen. Though she wasn’t some tyrant that gave people an unreasonable workload—she was actually very lenient and fair about the division of tasks—her people skills needed a little work. 

That or Emma was purposely shutting everyone out with her chilly attitude. 

Wonwoo had a few clues as to why she’d want to do that, but he’s a secretary, not a therapist. The only thing he could do about it was to keep his silence.

But then came a day when Emma asked him to come into her office to do something he completely expected from her but didn’t at the same time.

“Are you still in touch with Leo, Gavin, and Ezra?” she asked him, not even bothering to look up from the report she’s reading off her PC.

The question caught Wonwoo off-guard and it was obvious Emma caught on to his reaction if the tiny smirk that curved across her lips was anything to go by. Still, he took it in stride—breathing in through his nose as he thought about his answer.

He hasn’t been in touch with any of them since his high school graduation. All their attempts at reaching out to Wonwoo to invite him for a quick game of ball or a round of drinks somewhere in the city were all ignored. Not even turned down—ignored. 

Leo was the most persistent about it. After all, they were best friends. But after several years of Wonwoo not even bothering to give their invites a single glance, Leo stopped reaching out altogether. Wonwoo's life became a lot more peaceful since he cut ties with them, and he never really regretted the decision to do so. 

But perhaps the universe really was telling him to pay the price for his past inaction now that Emma was bringing up the past on a regular Wednesday afternoon. 

“No, ma’am,” he told her honestly. “Do you want me to reach out to them? Their contact details are pretty easy to get our hands on.”

Emma sighed quietly before meeting his gaze, an unreadable look hovering across her face. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d like that. But aren't you going to ask why I want to contact them again?”

He wanted to, but Wonwoo learned that in his line of work, the last thing he should do was ask questions. It made him wonder if Emma was purposely setting him up on some sort of conversational bear trap, but seeing as he didn’t really have anything to lose by giving, he chose to relent. 

“...Why?”

The silence of her office rang in his ears as Emma typed away on her keyboard. It was a mechanical one with tactile switches that matched the color of her desktop wallpaper. He didn’t take her to be someone who cared enough about aesthetics to that degree, but then again, Wonwoo never really got a chance to get to know her back then. 

He was too much of a coward to do so.

Once she was done, Emma got up from her ergonomic chair (which also matched her desktop setup), leveling her gaze with Wonwoo's even if the latter was easily a head taller than she was. Something about the glint in her eyes made him swallow the lump in his throat. Not to mention that sweet yet chilly smile that graced her bright red lips.

“It’s really simple, Wonwoo,” she told him with a laugh. 

“I want revenge.” 

And that’s how their little team was formed.

It was a two-person job. Emma entrusted Wonwoo with digging up the information she needed about the three men she wanted to bring down, all while she was in charge of putting their plans into motion by heading over to the front lines. 

Gavin was an easy target. Unlike the other two, he’s the only one who pursued professional basketball and for a while, he amassed quite the number of fans and admirers because of his outstanding plays. What’s more was that he managed to wife up a beauty queen who’s already conquered the international stage a few years back. Now with their first baby on the way, one would think that Gavin Kim has a picture perfect life.

But further down the road, talk about how he’s actually a womanizing wife beater started to seep out of the cracks and crevices of the athletic industry. The allegations were serious, but no one really bothered batting an eye. It’s normal. Lots of athletes are like that. We can't do anything about it.

It was easy to get a hold of which gym Gavin frequents to maintain his physique. He preferred working out in public facilities instead of the one provided for his team because it gave him all the freedom to ogle and flirt with other women who just happened to be hitting the gym on days he was on the prowl. 

Wonwoo even added a little footnote in the file he prepared that said likes to engage in post-workout coitus in the shower rooms. Emma rolled her eyes in disgust when she read it, but made sure to keep it in mind.

The day finally came when she’d collect enough evidence to ruin Gavin’s career. Emma hasn’t dropped by the gym in a while—work having sapped her energy too much to let her psych herself back into working out. But she realized she didn’t have to act out too much because the moment she started operating the treadmill right next to Gavin’s, he was already checking her out.

He didn’t seem to recognize who she was, unlike Wonwoo. But then again Gavin was easily the stupidest out of her trio of high school bullies. This man was all brawn and no brains, which was why it was all too easy for Emma to seduce him in the showers of this shoddy gym not thirty minutes since she’d arrived.

It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The last thing Emma wanted was to have this idiotic man inside of her so she offered to go on her knees and blow him instead—something that Gavin was all too happy to relent to. 

He didn’t even boast a cock of considerable size. It probably wasn’t any longer than her middle finger, and for a split second, she wondered why his beauty queen wife stayed with him despite having a cock that didn’t back up his cocky attitude. It was probably the money.

Emma didn’t waste much time though. Wonwoo visited this gym only a few hours prior to plant a bug somewhere inside the specific shower stall they were currently occupying. She just had to hope she and Gavin were positioned well enough so the camera would get a full view of what they were doing. 

It was the longest twenty minutes of Emma’s life, and she had to go home right away to disinfect her mouth about ten times, but hey. All in the name of vengeance, right?

At around eight in the evening on that same Saturday, her phone lit up with an email notification from Wonwoo. 

From: Wonwoo Jeon  Subject: CLASSIFIED Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well. I retrieved our bug from the gym earlier today and extracted the videos taken before properly disposing of it. Attached to this email is the MP4 file of our evidence against Mr. Gavin Kim. Around the time this message arrives to you, I have simultaneously sent said evidence to Mr. Kim’s managers, sponsors, teammates, other colleagues, and of course, his wife.  The only difference between their emails and yours is that this is a self-destructing message. Once you’ve closed this window, it will be deleted from your inbox without a trace. So if you are interested in watching the video below, best save it to your device of choice for better perusal. If you have any further questions and concerns, I am merely a text message away.  Regards,  Wonwoo Jeon Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department PLEDIS Insurance 

Like hell she was going to watch it.

The moment Emma finished reading through Wonwoo's overly formal email, she quickly exited the window and, true to his word, the message itself had disappeared. Despite being a fairly new player to the game, she had to commend all the precautions Wonwoo was setting to make sure her plans were a success. 

It made her wonder if his previous bosses have also asked him to do shady things under the company’s nose in the past. Whether or not that's true, she was reaping the benefits of his expertise, so she had no room for complaints. 

As long as she had Wonwoo, she’d get to punish everyone who wronged her without fail.

Gavin’s downfall followed soon after. 

Tabloids were their best friend in that scenario. The thumbnail of the video that Wonwoo spread around like some virus that wouldn’t stop replicating headlined every single paper, talking about how one of the most promising basketball stars of their generation had fallen prey to his own vices.

It was a good thing that not only was Wonwoo careful enough to not leave digital footprints as he sent out those emails, but he also edited the video to keep Emma’s identity a secret. As Gavin’s world started to crumble before his eyes—him being kicked off the starting roster of the team, his wife leaving him behind, and the public execution of his reputation—Emma simply shared a bottle of aged wine from Tuscany with the man who helped her pull off a wonderful performance.

“You’re not too bad,” she mused as she took a small sip, crossing her legs from where she’s seated unceremoniously on the edge of her desk. “You're surprisingly more on-board with this plan than I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were never friends with Gavin in the first place.” 

Wonwoo retained his stoic demeanor, not having touched the glass Emma offered him simply because it was against company regulations to intoxicate himself on the job. “If my boss tells me to ruin someone's life, I'm mandated to do it. I’m just doing what’s written on my job description, ma’am.”

Emma’s lips stretched into a grin as she threw her head back with a laugh. She leaned in closer to Wonwoo, who seemed wholly unfazed by the fact that the gesture granted him an ample view of her cleavage through her blouse. 

“Does your job description cover watching and editing your boss' sex scandal so you can mass send it to hundreds of people?” She giggled before leaning back to take another sip of her drink. “You’re in the green for now, Wonwoo. Keep it up and I might just have a pay raise arranged for you with HR if our next escapade is a success.”

He hummed in understanding. “Who’s next?”

In usual Emma fashion, she didn’t give him a straight answer right away. Instead, she hopped back to the carpeted floor of her office—not even wobbling in those thin heels she’s wearing—before rounding her desk to access her computer. 

“Have you been watching TV lately? Primetime soap operas?” she asked him as she clicked away on her screen. 

Wonwoo shook his head. “They don’t really interest me, ma’am.”

“I figured they wouldn’t. But this might.”

Emma gestured for him to peer at her monitor and Wonwoo wordlessly followed suit, getting up from his seat and standing behind her. Flashed on the screen was an article from a more reputable news outlet that featured two co-stars who played the main couple in a popular network’s newest drama. 

“Ezra Lee and Alaina Park…” Wonwoo muttered under his breath before his eyes flickered to Emma. “You have any leads I can work with?”

His boss chuckled before looking up at him with an expectant smile. “Someone's determined. I never thought I’d get to see someone so eager to do the dirty work for me.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Miss Emma, I'm not sure if you're aware but desk work gets boring sometimes. You’re right. This is a lot more interesting.”

“Alright, then,” Emma chuckled before retrieving both of their wine glasses and handing Wonwoo's back to him. “Unlike Gavin, I don't have a lot of surface-level leads with Ezra. He’s a celebrity—their reputation needs to be squeaky clean, so it makes sense why I can’t dig up anything about him through regular means. But this should be a piece of cake for you, right?”

Wonwoo stared at the bright red liquor inside the expensive glass, gaze darting to the wicked smile playing on Emma’s lips. If he looked a little closer, he would be able to tell that the shade of her lipstick matches the color of the liquor in her hands. 

He took it from her grasp with a sigh, clinking the edges of their glasses together before downing the entire thing in one fell swoop. The wine was aged well, and had somewhat of a sweet aftertaste, but despite the appealing flavor, Wonwoo reminded himself to never drink on the job ever again. 

“I’ll get back to you once I have the information you need.”

Wonwoo swiftly left Emma’s office after that little victory party. Even with his new sideline of being his boss’s lead henchman, he still had a lot of work to do for PLEDIS Insurance. And that included telling the other employees to quit horsing around in the break room when their designated lunch break ended hours ago.

“Sir Wonwoo,” one of said employees, Soonyoung, snickered before throwing an arm over Wonwoo's shoulders. “You've been hanging out in Miss Emma's office pretty frequently. Is there something going on? You became close real quickly.”

“Yeah” said one Seokmin, who’s still snacking on a wafer despite Wonwoo's scolding. “Boss, we know you're not the fuck-your-way-up kind of guy, but who knows, right? But with your position right now, do you really need it?”

Seungkwan, the last member of their unruly trio, slapped Seokmin’s arm with a scowl. “Hey! Do you really have to say it to his face? Oh, boss, if you make a report about these two, please know I have nothing to do with whatever they're saying.”

Soonyoung snickered. “Are you sure about that? Weren't you the one who first noticed that Sir Wonwoo was stepping inside Miss Emma's office more frequently—”

“Hey! Boss told us to scram, didn't he?! Let's go.”

Seungkwan quickly ushered his two friends out of the break room, scolding them in a hushed tone before they all went back to their respective cubicles. Wonwoo shook his head with a sigh, muttering something about inevitable rumors as he made himself a cup of coffee.

Was that how they perceived Wonwoo’s sudden closeness with the department head? That he was fucking Emma in the solitude of her office? Well, the idea of a boss having illicit relations with their secretary wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s heard about how the head of the Advertising Department gets frisky with his secretary through the corporate grapevine. But just because it was a popular trope among the employees’ strange fantasies, it didn’t mean it applied to himself and Emma as well.

They were strictly professional: he did the dirty work and she paid him in full. That was all there was to it.

(But what people don’t know was that editing Gavin’s scandal wasn’t exactly the walk in the park Emma thought it was.

Despite being one of the most indifferent people in the company, Wonwoo was still a man. Seeing his boss, whose body would be coveted by anyone who dared to want her, in such a compromising position excited an…unexpected physiological reaction out of him.

His resolve was as sturdy as steel, however. Instead of taking care of the obvious problem in his pants as he edited the scandalous video, Wonwoo dealt with it by taking a long, cold shower until all the blood that rushed down south started circulating properly again.

He told himself not to think about it come morning.)

“A drug den?”

Even Emma was baffled by the news that Wonwoo brought her the following week—a scowl of disbelief permanently etched on her face as she scanned the file her secretary prepared for her. Wonwoo merely stood at her side, waiting for her to finish going through the data he’s gathered. 

And he sure hoped she understood every single word printed on it. He practically risked his life trying to investigate Ezra’s secret business. No wonder it was so hard to dig up any dirt on him—dead men tell no tales after all.

“This is…” Emma swallowed thickly before continuing, “way above my expectations. If he was just getting faded on his own with a private dealer, I'd understand. Lots of celebrities do recreational drugs. But for him to head an entire operation? Where'd he find the time on top of his taping schedules?” 

Wonwoo sighed. “I would’ve been able to investigate further if his men weren't so meticulous. They're fiercely loyal to Ezra. Couldn’t bribe him like we did with Gavin’s gym coach.” 

“And you made sure to keep your identity under lockdown?”

“Positive.”

Emma drummed her fingers across the smooth surface of her work desk—brows furrowed as she stared into nothingness. Though they’ve only been working together for roughly six months at most, Wonwoo knew her well enough to realize she hit a wall.

It made him wonder if this was where she would draw the line. Their success with Gavin gave them both an unexpected high, sure, but Wonwoo recognized that this game they were playing was a dangerous one. The people they were trying to take down had more money and connections than the two of them could ever hope to get their hands on. 

But one thing that he failed to recognize right away about Emma was that she’s always been grossly ambitious. 

“The file you gave me also mentioned na he was hoping to insure his new house in Incheon,” she pointed out. “Care to tell me why you decided to include that?”

“I know you told me not to involve the company in this as much as we can, but I couldn’t think of any other way to penetrate into his circle.” Wonwoo adjusted his necktie, suddenly feeling like he’s being watched by the hawk that was his boss. “I’ve been told that he’s wary of people. Side effects of the cocaine, probably. Though the info broker sounded like he was joking, it’s best to be wary of him. If he can hide behind the protection of his management and his family, we need to play our cards right and protect ourselves, too.”

Emma took a moment to process what her secretary just told her, nodding slowly before closing the folder containing Ezra’s file and locking it inside a hidden drawer beneath her desk. 

“Oh, Wonwoo. If only all men were as intelligent as you are,” she sighed, getting up from her seat before pinching his face. “Good work. Let's go out for drinks later. My treat.”

Wonwoo's face twisted with confusion. “For what? Doing my job?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For going above and beyond every single time. You think you're only good at doing dirty work? At being my errand boy? You never fall behind your quotas here in the office either, you know. I think that in itself is a cause for celebration.”

Now that she’s reasoned it out, Wonwoo was even more weirded out by this strange turn of events. In the six months that Emma Rodriguez has spent as the head of PLEDIS Insurance’s Finance head, she never failed to uphold that arctic cold façade. She treated both executives and regular employees with the same degree of cut-throat harshness. 

And that’s when Wonwoo realized that she didn’t really treat him the way she treated them.

Huh. Did the Ice Queen have a melting point after all?

Despite his extensive protests, however, Wonwoo let Emma rope him into grabbing dinner and drinks at a food hub several districts away from their office. The fewer people who could recognize them outside, the better. Of course, he pleaded and reminded her several times that she was his boss and she really didn’t have to—

“Hey! Keep drinking!” Emma slurred with a huff, face red from the alcohol as she pushed another pint of beer into Wonwoo's face. “Why aren't you drunk yet, huh, Wonwoo Jeon? Are you God? Maybe that's why you're so good at obtaining information for me. Ah! No! Maybe you're the devil! Right, what we're doing isn't exactly good nor is it legal…”

Wonwoo exhaled long and hard as his boss continued blabbering nonsense across from him at their shared table. One glance at the smartwatch on his wrist told him that it was near midnight and that he should probably bring Emma home before she could make a scene. 

But…maybe they could stay for a few minutes more.

“Miss Emma? Are you sleepy?”

“Hm? Why would I be sleepy? We're drinking, aren't we?” 

“You're half-asleep on the table, so.”

At the prospect of being called out, Emma quickly shot into an upright position—looking around to see if anyone caught her drooling. When she realized she was in the clear, she narrowed her eyes at Wonwoo.

“Not a word about this in the office,” she warned, using one of the finished barbecue sticks on their empty plates to threaten him. “But...yeah. Alcohol makes me sleepy. Drive me home.”

Not even a please. This woman was really shameless even when drunk.

Not a peep of complaint was heard from Wonwoo when he drove Emma all the way to her condo unit in uptown Poblacion. Though he had to practically carry her inside and even help her out of her clothes and into her pajamas (at her request, not his own initiative), he simply told himself this was all part of his job. 

When his boss was safely tucked in bed, he was ready to bid her farewell and head back to his own place to catch up on some sleep. But for someone who was intoxicated beyond belief, Emma was still quite aware of her surroundings. The moment Wonwoo took a step away from her bed, her hand shot out to grab ahold of his wrist, making Wonwoo look back at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Wonwoo,” she murmured, face still smothered in her pillows despite her tight grip. “Can you stay?” 

“There's nowhere for me to sleep,” he chuckled. “I should go.”

“Then sleep next to me.”

The furrow on his brow merely deepened. He’d ask her to repeat what she said, but Wonwoo could recognize that Emma wasn’t really in the headspace to be reasonable right now. So instead of refuting her wish, Wonwoo carefully pried her fingers off his wrist so he could take off his work coat and fold it neatly on top of her vanity table.

This is all part of the job, he told himself.

Wonwoo laid on his boss’ duvet perfectly still. He didn’t want to make the mistake of touching her when he didn’t have explicit permission to do so. He was merely told to sleep next to her after all—nothing else.

But about fifteen minutes after he lied next to her, Emma shifted on her side of the bed—turning to him with a sleepy look in her eyes.

“You know,” she whispered, so softly, he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he was. “I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.”

Emma probably won’t remember what she mumbled in her drunken stupor in the morning. But the sadness and honesty that underlined her words sent him back about ten years into the past. To a time when he was a much greater evil than those who directly wronged her.

An apology sizzled across the tip of his tongue—something that’s a decade overdue. But before Wonwoo could hope to let her hear his piece, Emma’s breathing had become even and shallow. 

She was already fast asleep.

He sighed, staring up at the dainty ceiling of her bedroom as he chuckled helplessly to himself.

“That’s why I’m making up for it now.”

If Gavin’s case was a walk in the park, Ezra’s was an Olympic-level marathon.

Wonwoo didn’t want to dwell on the details anymore. To cut it short: he was going to cross out ‘exposing a notorious drug lord’ off his bucket list without thinking of doing it again ever. While he managed to get out unscathed during his investigation, it just so happened that their final altercation with Ezra ended up putting Wonwoo in the hospital. 

But so what if he fractured a couple of ribs trying to save Emma from being killed by that drug-addicted lunatic? As long as their goal to bring Emma’s enemies down was achieved, he’d gladly sustain any life-threatening injuries.

Which was, admittedly…strange. 

Long before Emma came into the picture as his boss, Wonwoo never would’ve pictured himself risking his neck for the benefit of someone else. Though he had an entire arsenal of skills and knowledge at his disposal, it would take more than just his generous salary to get him to put them to good use.

But with Emma, he found himself utilizing whatever means to help her exact her revenge—on people he once called his friends, much less.

He must be going insane. 

“Wonwoo…?”

Funnily enough, he ended up recalling everything that happened over the past two weeks first before recognizing that he was just regaining consciousness in the intensive care unit. Wonwoo's eyes hurt because of how bright the fluorescent lights were overhead, but for some reason, he didn’t flinch away from her relieved smile when it was a million watts brighter than the hospital’s indoor lighting.

“Good…day, ma’am,” he croaked out awkwardly, belatedly realizing that he didn’t know what time it was. “What day is it? Did someone fix your schedule for today? Did someone go over your meal plans in my stead? Were you—”

His endless stream of questions was interrupted by hacking fit—making Emma scramble for a glass of water on the table by his hospital bed, a concerned look lining her gaze.

“Don't talk too much,” she scolded him as he finished his drink. “You’ve been out for two days, idiot.”

Two days? 

Needless to say, he couldn’t do a thing about it once his boss started fussing over him. She called over doctors she personally knew and handpicked only the most competent of nurses to look after Wonwoo. How Emma could be the judge of that, Wonwoo wasn’t very sure, but he gladly let her take care of him for a change. 

After all, they successfully concluded another chapter in Emma’s little revenge story.

“When are we going to start with Leo?”

Wonwoo brought the matter up about three days after he woke up, right in the middle of eating the stale hospital food served to him for dinner. Emma, who was snacking on some takeout fast food, hummed before tossing a french fry into her mouth.

“You're not even healed yet, and you're thinking about work?” she sighed before pointing a fry in his direction. “I’m still paying you your regular wage even if you're stuck here. You don’t have to worry about making ends meet so much, Wonwoo. You just need to rest—”

“But I don’t want to rest, I want to be useful to you,” he interrupted her gruffly, which was strange of him because he never interrupted his employers. 

For a moment, Wonwoo thought he’d be on the receiving end of a verbal lashing even if he was still recovering. Emma never let other people talk back to her without consequences. But instead, his boss threw her head back with a laugh that bordered on a snort. It’s a look that Wonwoo had seen on her time and time again—a look that he noticed Emma only showed to him. 

Back then, he didn’t really think of her smile all that much. But now…

“You’re being useful enough just by being alive, Jeon,” she reassured him, that grin of hers unwavering. “Enough questions about Leo. I'm not even thinking about him yet because compared to the previous two? He’s a lot easier to track down.”

Wonwoo shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Same approach lang with Ezra.” She flashed him a toothy smile. “We’re going to get him to insure some of his properties under PLEDIS. But instead of us going to him, he'll be going to us instead.”

“I…? Sorry, ma’am. I don’t follow.”

Emma stifled a soft laugh behind her palm, unwrapping the burger included in her takeout meal before taking a bite of considerable size. “The Choi Corporation is expanding a chain of shopping malls somewhere in Jeju. Leo Choi personally contacted our CEO and there we have it: another big shot client.”

Another person to drag down to hell.

“Is that good enough for you?” 

Wonwoo was still processing the news as they both finished up their respective meals. He should probably be glad that Emma didn’t decide to put their secret operation on hold just because he was out of commission. But something about how smoothly they’re progressing into the next phase of Emma’s big revenge plan that made him wary of treading any further. 

He felt like he was being paranoid—probably the aftermath of almost crossing to the other side because of what happened with the Ezra incident. Wonwoo couldn’t help but be wary of any and all threats to both his life and Emma’s, and it was for a good reason.

“Okay,” Wonwoo breathed, wincing a little when he felt the spot where his ribs broke ache at how fast he inhaled. “What do you want me to do for now? Investigate? Trace his whereabouts?”

Emma’s smile suddenly turned ice cold. “I want you to rest, Wonwoo. Do I have to keep repeating myself?”

“But—”

“No buts. Boss’ orders—I'm your boss, right?” 

Ah, there’s the Ice Queen they all knew and loved. 

Fine. Maybe he could use a break from all that quote-unquote field work he just did. But one thing about his entire hospitalization still remained unanswered.

“What did you tell HR? About…this?” Wonwoo gestured towards his battered but healing body. “You’ve got the charisma, but I’m pretty sure it’s difficult even for you to go into cahoots with the other employees of PLEDIS. Much more, our human resources head.”

Emma waved away his concerns with a shake of her head. “You're so persistent, aren't you? Don’t think about HR. Or Leo. Or the rest of our plans. Can’t you be a normal salaryman and be happy that you have a break from all the things I make you do?”

“I told you, Miss Emma. I just want to make myself useful.”

“And I told you that you're the least useful in your current state. So give. It. A. Rest,” she threatened, putting emphasis on every syllable. 

But behind her intimidating façade was someone who actually cared for him. The details were still a bit muddled in Wonwoo's head, but he remembered being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Remembered how Emma never let go of his hand as they made the trip all the way. And how he heard her pray for him to make it out alive despite being a well-known agnostic.

Once their conversation had mellowed down, he laid back against the steady elevation of his bed, watching the scenic city lights glimmer outside the window of his hospital room—just behind the woman who made his life a lot more interesting.

He couldn’t wait to be useful to her again.

“I hate this. I fucking hate this so much.”

Wonwoo spared his employer a quick glance as she practically glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. He’d been browsing through a sports car catalog tucked underneath the hotel’s coffee table, but watching Emma have a furious meltdown about her wedding was more worth his time. 

“You're the one who said that there'll more benefits if you accepted the marriage proposal,” her secretary reminded, crossing his legs as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting on. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course I was just…gaslighting myself about this entire fucked up situation!” Emma growled as she stomped over to him with a scowl. “Can’t fucking believe my dad agreed to marry me off just like that, too. After all his talk that I needed to love whoever I'm supposed to marry...”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Anyone can be blinded by money—especially if it's from the Chois.”

“Even you?”

It’s a question that sunk into the room with a rhetorical implication. Emma was quick to exchange the earrings her stylist chose for her with something more suited to her taste—a pair that didn’t sparkle all that much but was worth more than six months of Wonwoo's salary. In her reflection on the vanity mirror, he could clearly see the way her red lips parted in concentration as she clipped the earrings in place. 

“No,” Wonwoo responded even if he knew she wasn’t looking for an answer. “I’m more easily blinded by other things, ma’am.”

Emma glanced behind her with a puzzled look, not getting his drift. “Like what?” 

Wonwoo didn’t dare think twice. 

He got up from his once comfortable position on the couch, closing the distance that sat between him and Emma in long, calculated strides. She didn’t seem fazed by his sudden need to walk over, but the moment Wonwoo was behind her, she stiffened when he reached a hand in front of her face. Then, with a firm yet featherlight touch, her secretary wiped off the lipstick that stained past her lip line with his fingers—not once breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. 

“It wouldn’t be fun if I told you, now would it?” He smiled before pulling his hand back. “I need to keep you on your toes sometimes, too, Miss Emma.”

He half-expected her to scoff and brush off his attempt at being smart with her. Emma was a no-nonsense kind of person, and with the wedding happening soon, Wonwoo understood why she’d be more high-strung than usual. 

But instead of acting the way she always did with him, Emma took Wonwoo by surprise when she fisted his silken necktie in her manicured nails, tugging him down so that their eyes were leveled with each other. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to wrestle Wonwoo into complete submission, but this was his boss they were talking about.

There’s a glint in those sharp eyes of hers that had his heart beating off the charts. This wasn’t the gaze of someone entitled the Ice Queen of their office. No, there’s something warm in there—borderline sensual. And before Wonwoo could even hope to figure out what it was, Emma was already closing her eyes and sealing their lips together like some unspoken pact. 

It’s an inconsequential kiss. Wonwoo has made out with both men and women alike—all desperate gasps and lust-fueled passion—but somehow, none of those experiences could hold a candle to the way Emma Rodriguez pecked his lips for a fraction of a second before pulling away. 

“You're getting more and more insufferable,” she muttered, resting her forehead against his. “You were never this cheeky before. What happened?”

You, he wanted to tell her. You happened.

At that point, Wonwoo's brain was merely operating on carnal instinct alone. He lunged forward to capture her lips again, making her gasp in surprise as he snaked a strong arm around her waist. Thank fucking god Emma’s wedding dress had a simple design—no pretentious frills to obstruct his movements. 

Despite the fact that this woman—his boss—was getting married in less than two hours, Wonwoo couldn’t even give a damn. He swiped all the makeup boxes and accessories off the vanity table, propping Emma up on the horizontal surface as he kissed her until she saw stars. 

“Wonwoo,” she sighed against his lips, thighs inching apart as he bunched the long hem of her gown up to her waist. He wondered distantly if Emma was going to ask him to stop—to see reason. But the glazed look in her eyes told him otherwise.

“More.”

Wonwoo wanted nothing more than to give her more. He’d do everything she could ever dream of asking him. Never mind the fact that it was more than a little messed up for him to consider fucking his boss right before she’s married off to the man who tormented her endlessly at sixteen. 

Nobody else mattered—not Leo, not the director, not even Emma’s intricate revenge plot that was years in the making. At that moment, only the two of them existed, only separated by a few layers of clothing before they could finally become one. 

But Wonwoo was abruptly reminded why he always chose reason before ambition long before he met Emma. Dreams and delusions were bound to end when you least expected them to. Reality, on the other hand, would always remind you of life’s harshest truths.

“Miss Emma?” They both could hear the voice of Leo's personal assistant outside the door to the hotel room, preceded by a few short knocks. “It’s time for your prenup shoot. Director Rodriguez is also looking for Sir Wonwoo. Is he in there with you?”

Whatever dream the two of them have fabricated only minutes ago had been erased from existence—all that was left was a bride-to-be with her dress ruffled in all the wrong places, and a pitiful secretary with red lipstick stains adorning his face.

“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Emma yelled over to the doorway, eyes refusing to part from Wonwoo's. “We’ll be down soon. Thanks, Christina.”

“Okay, ma’am. I'll just wait for you in the lobby.”

Wonwoo counted to ten before peeling himself away from Emma, quickly striding towards the bathroom to get some tissues both for himself and his employer. But while he was wiping off the lipstick on the corners of his mouth, Wonwoo immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere.

Emma was already busy straightening herself out—smoothing down the creases in her gown and retouching her makeup as best as she could without her stylists. Wonwoo wouldn’t have minded the silence, it’s exactly the kind of setting he preferred working in. 

But just when he thought he’d managed to melt the Ice Queen’s heart over the past year, she turned arctic cold all over again. 

“After the wedding, tell my driver to accompany me to Leo's penthouse. Though I despise the idea, we have to go home together to keep up the act for everyone to see.” She gave her orders the same way she used to tell Wonwoo to sort the company’s financial reports—straight to business with little room for playing around. “Other than that, I don't have any more orders. You can rest easy for the day, Wonwoo.”

He felt like he should say something to address what just happened between them five minutes ago. To ask why she was pretending as if they weren’t breathing each other in like all the oxygen on the planet had gone in a flash. But Wonwoo wasn’t some desperate fool that overestimated his place in Emma’s life. 

“Duly noted, ma’am,” he muttered with the same degree of aloofness she’d just given him before tossing the soiled tissues in the trash. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Emma didn’t even break face as Wonwoo's footsteps resounded on the carpeted floor. She didn’t even spare him a second glance. But then again…

He was her secretary, and she was his employer. 

That was all there was to it.

Much to Wonwoo's surprise, Leo's case was closed much sooner than he thought it would be.

Before Emma could even make it to the cathedral, the commotion had already started. Wonwoo had arrived earlier in the venue with Emma’s father, the director of PLEDIS Insurance, and were just about to take their seats among the other principal sponsors when the television screens mounted all over the church suddenly started playing a video.

A video that Wonwoo has already seen before.

He didn’t have to glance at Leo to know that he was sporting the most horrified look he could muster upon seeing one of your many sex scandals having an impromptu screening at the cathedral. Collective gasps and disgusted remarks were heard in a chorus of murmurs that reached all the way up to the high ceilings. 

Wonwoo could hear Leo's assistant, Christina—who turned out to be part of the sex parties her boss secretly indulged in—barking orders for the church staff to cut the feed. But it was too late. Those who needed to see the truth have already gotten their fill.

Recognizing that his daughter couldn’t possibly be wed to a man with a reputation that’s been tarnished in a church, of all places, Director Rodriguez ordered Wonwoo to contact the bridal car driver and tell him to send Emma straight home instead. It’s a job that Wonwoo got done fairly quickly, and despite the numerous text messages that Emma sent him demanding answers about what happened, he didn’t respond to any of them right away. 

After a few hours of digging around, Wonwoo eventually found out that one of Leo's cousins was behind the public exposé. Apparently, said cousin was able to obtain the same footage that Emma acquired and was able to sabotage Leo's attempt at seizing their family riches before Emma could even put her plans into motion. 

Well, at least someone else already did the dirty work for them.

As usual, Wonwoo collated all the information he’s gathered in a concise email. This was how he kept Emma up to speed about their progress—through self-destructing emails. He informed her about the involvement of Leo's cousin and how the trash had taken itself out, ensuring that Leo Choi had fallen from the false pedestal he’s clung onto for years.  

Their behind-the-scenes mission has been fulfilled.

While he didn’t expect Emma to respond enthusiastically, receiving radio silence in return wasn’t something Wonwoo had anticipated either. But he opted not to read into it much. She must’ve been royally pissed that Leo's demise wasn’t brought about by her own hand, and Wonwoo respected that.

The following Monday after the canceled wedding, however, he ended up finding out the reason behind her silence. 

“Boss,” sobbed Seokmin when Wonwoo timed in at the office. “Please don't leave!”

Immediately backing him up was Soonyoung, who didn’t hesitate to hug Wonwoo, even giving him a few pats on the shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. “It's okay, Sir Wonwoo. You've been here long enough. Maybe it's about time you found your path elsewhere.”

…Huh?

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo voiced out his confusion. “You’re speaking like I got fired.”

As if on cue, the third member of their trio walked in on the conversation as he sipped on his usual iced americano. Seungkwan stared at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression before saying:

“But weren't you fired, sir? Miss Emma announced it this morning, but I think she left right away after, too.”

Not privy to the way the pieces started to click in his head, Seokmin and Soonyoung kept consoling Wonwoo as he made his way to his (old) cubicle. Emma had been one step ahead too—someone already having packed away most of his belongings in storage boxes. Not to mention the notice of contract termination sitting on his desk. Effective immediately, it says.

“I really don't get it though” Seungkwan droned behind him. “You? The best secretary in the city? Fired just like that?”

Seokmin nodded. “I don't understand it either. You two were business-as-usual after the wedding. Miss Emma must've been so pissed that she didn't get married that she laid off the boss here.”

“True,” Soonyoung agreed with a snicker. “Boss, maybe Miss Emma's just being unreasonable. I bet she'll be begging for you to come back in a few days' time.”

Yeah. That’s what the situation would seem like to an outsider. But Wonwoo knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t bluffing about this. She fired him for a reason that’s been stewing for more than a decade. Even if Gavin, Ezra, and Leo have had their taste of justice, Emma’s revenge plot wasn’t finished like Wonwoo thought it was.

Because Wonwoo was one of her targets all along, too.

I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.

“Where is she?” 

Seungkwan perked up. “Uh, maybe she went home? She told us something about feeling a bit under the weather?”

Seokmin nodded. “She's probably in her penthouse or something. If i were you, I'd start making it up to her.”

“Hey, you're talking like they're actually dating,” Soonyoung scolded with a laugh.

Not even bothering to thank them, Wonwoo turned on his heel and made a beeline for the office entrance—dead set on doing exactly what Seokmin jokingly suggested.

This is why I'm making it up to you, he mused with an exasperated air as he buckled up in his car. 

Can’t you just let me in?

Emma spent her first Monday after the entire wedding disaster with Leo holed up in her unit—stuffing herself full of ice cream. The only reason she bothered going to the office today was to formally announce that her secretary Wonwoo Jeon was fired—just like she’d been planning since the moment she met him again as her secretary after all these goddamn years.

Her high school bullies have been put in their place. Her fifteen-year revenge plot was finally over.

But why did she feel so fucking depressed about it?

She sighed pitifully when she realized she’d already emptied her tub of double dutch ice cream, finally deigning to get up from the couch to deposit it in the kitchen for later disposal. But just when she was about to continue moping in her living room, the doorbell to her unit buzzed from the entrance, making her glance that way curiously.

It could be her next-door neighbor. A kind, elderly woman who lived with her daughter. She borrowed Emma’s rosemary spices yesterday—something that she barely used because she often opted to go for food deliveries instead of whipping up her own meals. 

With that reasoning in mind, she didn’t bother checking who was at the door through the peephole. She simply undid the locks before opening the door—only to come face-to-face with—

“Hey,” Wonwoo sighed as he jammed his foot between the door and the doorframe. “Ma’am, please talk to me first. Did you think I wouldn't catch onto what you were trying to do?”

“Why do I have to explain myself to you? You’re fired, right?” Emma growled as she pushed the door with her back, but sadly, Wonwoo easily overpowered her. At least he was decent enough to not let himself in—he simply lingered out in the hallway with a placid look on his face. “What?”

“Emma,” her ex-secretary addressed her for the first time without any formalities. “If you fired me as vengeance for not helping you all those years ago, I get it. I deserve it, even. But after what happened sa hotel…

“You can’t convince me there’s nothing between us anymore.”

Her breath hitched, face growing warm at the reminder of that intimate moment they shared hours before she was supposed to get married. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel Wonwoo's mouth on hers. But that wasn’t a thought that was healthy to entertain at the moment.

“What are you saying? That was all part of the plan, you know?” She bluffed with a mirthless laugh, fully turning to face him as she crossed her arms. “Make you smitten enough with me to let your guard down. Look, you didn't expect me to fire you, did you?”

“No, but you can’t fool me, Emma,” Wonwoo chuckled with a self-satisfied smirk. “You wanted me too—that was real. If I’m mistaken, then make me leave. Call security on me. If I’m the nuisance you so desperately want me to be, then get rid of me here and now.”

The silence was thick between them. Emma was practically shaking with frustration as Wonwoo stared down at her with that overconfident look on his face. She wanted nothing but to punch him, hit him, slap him—

Kiss him.

Maybe Wonwoo was right. Maybe Emma did want him more than she led herself to believe. 

Because why the hell did she fist the front of Wonwoo's work shirt before pulling him inside her penthouse? Why did she slam him against the door, earning a sexy groan from him as she crushed their lips together?

Was this a healthy way to deal with your current predicament? No—definitely not. But it felt too fucking good to pass up on.

Wonwoo, however, was all too quick to regain control—hooking one of Emma’s thighs around his waist as she gasped into his mouth. She could practically feel him smirk against her lips, and though she’s loath to admit, it only made her want him even more.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled before peppering her neck with love bites. “You might need to kill me first before I stop pursuing you.”

Emma spared him a breathless laugh that quickly melted into a moan when Wonwoo's hand found itself inside her oversized sleep shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were obsessed with me, Jeon.”

His fingers were warm against her skin, and Emma couldn’t help the full-on shudder that racked her body when Wonwoo grazed her bare nipples. The smile on his face was wicked—dangerous, even. 

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, his breath fanning against her flushed face.

“What would you do if I was obsessed with you, Ma’am?”

Emma was well aware that Wonwoo knew the answer to his own question. It was obvious in the way he quickly picked her up from the floor, fully wrapping both her legs around his waist as he carried her towards her bedroom. But despite the carnal urgency in his grip, Wonwoo was awfully gentle as he laid her down on the mattress.

“Last chance to kick me out,” he murmured against her ear as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “You could exact your revenge on me even better, ‘no? I’m giving you the leeway to frame me for forced entry…among other things.”

God. She knew Wonwoo was a little crazy when he accepted Emma’s orders to help her make his old best friends suffer. But the way he looked at her with such crazed desire further confirmed her suspicions.

And she didn’t want her men any other way.

“Fuck me, Wonwoo,” she told him clearly before stripping her own clothes and laying herself bare for him to feast on—eyes lidded, desiring him just as much as he did her. “That’s an order.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, and Emma had to force herself not to drool over his perfectly built torso. If she had more patience, she would’ve taken her time worshiping every inch of Wonwoo's body, but he’d already set a fire in the pit of her stomach. One that she fully expected him to deal with sooner than later.

“So wet for me,” he observed with a lopsided smirk, pressing their foreheads together as he lathered his fingers with her slick. “Have you always wanted me this way? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me, Miss Emma?”

Yes. Fuck, yes. 

“That’s none of your business, Jeon,” Emma stubbornly insisted, keeping herself from moaning when his lips descended onto one of her hardened nipples. 

Wonwoo made good on the opportunity, using the fingers he’d used to feel up her slick cunt to rub her essence across the other bud he wasn’t suckling on. The effect was near immediate—Emma throwing her head back with a pretty little whimper as Wonwoo started to massage her breasts. 

Fuck. He’d always dreamed of getting to smother his face between them.

“Wonwoo,” she gasped out loud, hips bucking desperately when he bit down on her sensitive flesh. “F-Fuck me. Now.” 

“Demanding.” He pulled away from her sensitive nipples with a pop, staring up at her with a lustful gaze. “You enjoy ordering me around too much, you know?”

“You enjoy being ordered around, too,” Emma pointed out with a scoff, trying her best not to moan too loudly when Wonwoo's fingers started to toy with her leaking cunt again. “Just—I need you. Please.”

Ah, he never thought the day would come when he’d hear Emma Rodriguez begging for his cock.

“Okay, Ice Queen,” he relented with a playful laugh, kicking his underwear and trousers off as he pumped his already hard length. “Since you're so eager for me to fuck you, I’m not going to prep you anymore. You better not cry when my cock splits you open, okay?”

Hearing him talk so lewdly to her made her pussy gush with excitement. What’s more was that, not only was her secretary blessed with a face and body that gods would covet, but his cock was something she was afraid she’d keep looking for even when he was done with her.

He was awfully careful when he first pushed inside of her, sharp eyes riveted on her face as it twisted with both pain and pleasure alike. His size was something that one needed getting used to, and he wasn’t about to make his first time with Emma uncomfortable for her.

No, he wanted her to keep thinking about him even after they’ve had their fill of each other.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he rasped against her neck, licking a long stripe along the column of her throat to make her shiver. “Too bad you already fired me. I always wondered what it would feel like to bend you over and fuck you in your office.” 

He could feel her pussy squeeze his cock even tighter at the shameless image she put in her head, making Wonwoo smirk with pride as he started to move. Emma mewled his name, grabbing his face as he chased his lips. He was all too willing to give her what she wanted, meeting her with an open-mouthed kiss as their tongues clashed together in time with his thrusts.

“W-Wonwoo,” she moaned into his mouth, hips eagerly meeting his. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.”

And fuck her deeper, he did—Emma’s got him wrapped around her pretty manicured fingers, after all. 

Wonwoo was relentless with the way he pounded her into the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing much too loudly in his ears. But he didn’t fucking care. The feel of Emma’s velvet pussy walls pulsing around his cock sent his mind into a frenzy—fucking her until the bedframe creaked, until Emma was begging him to give her more, more, more—

All of a sudden, she gasped, “Coming, coming—!” 

If being inside her was life-changing, feeling her cum around his cock sent Wonwoo straight to heaven. Her cunt spasmed deliciously as Wonwoo helped her ride out her high—lips locked together as they breathed each other in. 

“Cum inside me,” she murmured deliriously into his mouth, practically rubbing her breasts—sensitive and littered with all the marks Wonwoo left on them—against his toned chest. “Make me yours, Jeon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

“God, I love you,” he sighed a little mindlessly, and those carelessly uttered words made Emma’s eyes widen with surprise before losing herself to the feeling of delirium. 

Wonwoo spilled his load inside her quivering cunt with a long-winded moan, feeling like he’d been shot through the head and was experiencing a level of euphoria that bordered on illegal. Emma moaned at the feel of his warm cum filling her to the brim, bringing him down for another sloppy kiss as the heat of the moment started to dissipate in the quiet atmosphere of their bedroom.

As their breaths started to settle, Emma was the first to glance at him—to meet his eyes. Wonwoo couldn’t find any trace of the arctic cold Ice Queen that practically told him to scram the other day at the hotel.

No, it was just Emma. 

His Emma.

“Can I still take back my verdict?” she muttered softly, inching closer to bury her face in his chest. Wonwoo instinctively pulled her in for a tender embrace, kissing the crown of her head with a smile.

“You mean the contract termination?” Wonwoo chuckled. “Take it up to HR, Miss Emma. I’m just a lowly secretary.”

All of a sudden, Emma rolled over so that she was seated upright on the bed. Wonwoo had to keep himself from groaning at the sight of her—hair disheveled and body sporting all his marks. Seeing her freshly fucked by him was doing things to his libido. 

“You’re not just my secretary, Wonwoo,” she sighed, twiddling with her fingers awkwardly. “I…I wasn’t going to fire you anymore. I got used to your company. I…

“I fell in love with you.” 

The words floated between them like a cloud that couldn’t easily be swept up by the wind. Wonwoo offered her a comforting smile before pulling her into a firm kiss.

“Yet you fired me anyway,” he pointed out with a laugh. “Why? You couldn’t deal with the fact that you fell in love with one of your high school bullies?”

That earned him a punch in the shoulder. “You’re not one of them. You’re different.”

“And you’re in love with me too, no? You said it yourself. Since when?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo then pressed a soft, featherlight kiss on her nose—one that had Emma’s heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl.

Gosh, this man. He’s fifteen years too late.

“Maybe I’ve always been a little in love with you. Who knows?” Wonwoo spared her a Cheshire cat smile. “There’s more where that came from though.”

Emma punched him in the chest this time—a bit too close to the spot where he broke a few ribs months prior. But he didn’t care.

She could send him to hell and back and he’d do it for her in a heartbeat.

From: Wonwoo Jeon 

Subject: NOT-SO CLASSIFIED

Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well.

I heard that you dealt with quite a stressful client today. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t here to help you with the matter as I was given tasks to do elsewhere. In order to make up for this lapse on my part, I am cordially inviting you to dinner at 7PM tonight after work. 

Rest assured, the expenses shall be shouldered by me and your only job is to sit and look gorgeous as I wine and dine you for the evening. Sincerely hoping for your most favorable response.

Regards, 

Wonwoo Jeon

Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department

PLEDIS Insurance 

Your boyfriend :)

end notes: this wasnt thoroughly proofread so if you spot some strange errors (aka sentences in a different language bc this fic was partly in filipino) here and there, pretend you didn't see em! as always, ur feedback means everything to me so scream in the tags or my ask as much as you want ^__^

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[wanatasha]

omg omg omg i have a fanfic idea !

ceo!wanda x fem!reader wherein w is a workaholic, and barely comes home anymore because of her hectic schedule. there was a time where w was so frustrated and overstimulated with work that she yelled and took it out on reader, but r doesn’t say anything and just leaves her alone. the day after, w comes home earlier

I love you, truly

ceo!wanda x fem!reader

summary above, thank you so much for the fic idea!

tw: established relationship, hurt/comfort, argument, angst w happy ending, yelling during argument, R’s hair is described to be pushed behind her ear

To be rich is to be ambitious–and to be ambitious is to be hard-working. One of the reasons why you first began dating Wanda was due to her tenacity and ability to work through something till the end. It proved true. Though it is her strength, it is quite the weakness when you flip it around. She works hard, sometimes too hard. There are weeks, sometimes close to months where Wanda will coop herself in at work. The first two times it happened, you looked past it–if anything you were so proud of her desire to get things done at the time. Now? Not anymore.

 It's grown to become quite tiring. On days when you’ve had a hard day at your own job, you wished for her to be home but instead your apartment was silent. You fear you’ve barely gotten any time with your significant other. The most you get nowadays is a handwritten card and some flowers placed on the dining room table when you get home. It’s thoughtful, each time it makes you smile–but atlas, it’s not her. You miss her, not the way she can love you–you miss her, her presence, the feeling of her physically beside you. You miss her voice and her touch. 

It’s been a few days filled with her disappearing act. It’s been long enough that the bed has become cold, empty. It’s been long enough that the hook where her keys usually go, has laid bare for the past few days. You understand, you do. Her schedule is long and tiring and exhausting and time-consuming, and everything of that kind. But you want to be selfish for once. 

So you take your own keys off of the hook and drive off to visit her. The business is inside of this tall black tower, golden lights exuding from it from different rooms as people work. It’s intimidating, even for you. The fountain in the lobby really overdoes it. 

You meet with the lady, expressing your means for a visit before she lets you back. It’s been a while since you’ve been here and you get why. Being the partner to a rich CEO is frightening, people seem to grow shy and quiet when you’re around. She’s not talked to them, but your title as hers does all the talking. Her office is towards the very top and it’s a decently long wait in the elevator, especially when it stops a few times when others drop in and out, smiling apologetically as they do so. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, and just down the hall you find the door to her office. She sits at her desk as expected, warm lights from her lamps casting a golden hue. It’s beautiful. Each time you come into her office you’re taken aback by the view out the glass windows behind her–the New York skyline taking your breath away. Usually it does, but today? Just seeing her is breathtaking. 

She looks up from her laptop and notes, glasses settled on the lower edge of her nose. Her eyes flicker back down to her work as she greets you. She sounds tired, and as you walk up closer to her–you find she also looks tired. 

“It’s almost one, you should come back home,” you whisper, coming around behind her to rub at her shoulders, “you’ve not been home in a minute.” 

       “I would love to, золотце, but I can’t.”

You wrap your arms around her, lips coming close to her ear, “and why is that? I miss you.”

       “I’m busy,” she says, tone becoming more monotone at the end. 

“Just tonight? Could this maybe wait until tomorrow?”

       “No,” she snaps, pushing you off her, “my job isn’t some 9-5. I’m not an employee. I have so much to do and little time, I don’t expect you to understand. Sorry I can’t be home all the time, I wish I could, but I have a job that requires me to be here when needed. And right now, I’m needed. Just go home.”

You stand behind her chair, fingers fidgeting with one another as you ward off the emotions bubbling inside you. They’re not at all positive and you hate how easily you cry. Her voice had raised only a little and the thought of her having to raise her voice at you? It’s enough to break you. You whip your phone out, responding to old texts to try and act as if her statement didn’t offend you. It relaxed you enough to be able to walk out the front door as if nothing happened, as if your heart wasn’t aching. 

You passed by everyone, head held high. The last thing you ever wanted was for strangers–especially Wanda’s employees–to catch a glimpse of you crying on her behalf. It wasn’t until you got into your car that you broke down. The second the car door shut beside your head fell against the steering wheel and you sobbed. Your hands shook, winging together in your lap–occasionally going to wipe at your face. The reason you came was to seek her, wishing for comfort after being left alone for so many days. The one person you wished for more time with became the one you wish you didn't have to see for a few days. You feel somewhat happy, a very sad and broken happy, about her staying at work tonight. 

As you went to bed with puffy eyes, Wanda sat at her desk–feeling trapped. She was stupid. Few minutes after what transpired she was wishing to book it home, but unfortunately what she said was true. She can only leave until what’s needed of ehr has since been completed. Hundreds upon thousands were depending on her. She made it work though. After finishing the items with the most recent due dates, she called out as soon as she could–which was tomorrow night. 

She opened the front door with a heavy heart, a bag of sweet treats for you in her back hand. She set the bag on the floor, greeting your pet with a gentle pat to the head before she set off to find you. There’s no care to even take off her coat when you were somewhere in the apartment with your thoughts running off in the wrong direction. She was here to fix that. 

You laid on your bed, curled up under the weighted blanket she bought you last year. The TV was on, some reality show playing off in the distance. You were watching it seemed, and really interested as well. Snacks and bottles of water laid on the dresser beside you, your phone rested in your lap. It seemed you made home in bed, everything you needed was just a reach away. 

You noticed her come in. Of course you did, you heard the front door open and your heart lept in your chest. You knew she was back the second your pet got up from the end of the bed to go greet her at the front door. She climbed onto the bed, sitting down beside you. You feel the bed dip, you watch as her hands get close to your face and you hate the way it makes you feel giddy even after all this time–even after last night. 

“Золотце? Hey,” she brushes your hair back, “can we talk?”

You make no move to speak or look her way, but you mute the TV and that was enough for Wanda to begin speaking. 

“I have no excuse for how I acted. I was stressed and there was no reason, none at all to talk to you like that. I am so very sorry. I love my job, but I love you more. There’s no excuse. From now on, I’ll make sure to take time off. You’re my priority, mm?”

You look at her, tears in your eyes yet again, “mm, yeah. I love you.”

She smiles, leaning in to kiss your lips once, “I love you more, золотце. I’m going to get cozy, after do you just wanna chill in bed? Fill me in on this show you’re watching?”

      “I’d love to,” you respond, moving to unmute the show.

As she’s a step into your bathroom, turning the light on–she turns around, “oh, I also got you a few things. I left them by the front door if you’d like to go check them out while I get ready.”

You smile even wider, “I love you.”

She returns the happiness, mouthing it back as she shuts the bathroom door.

[gallapiech]

And that's the end of Highway of Hedonism... It's now fully finished!! So you can binge read it if you want 😌

[READ IT HERE] time to pull back the curtain

the huggerrr!!!

The direction of this one was pretty straight forward!

I don't have a sketch for this one since I simply painted over the original drawing, but I figured it could be interesting to see them side by side! It does feel kinda bad that my last few drawings were all so sad 😭 Since there isn't much art to show in this post I'll show a couple of cancelled drawings :3

I actually sketched out a little kiss for the ending where it shows the trucker hat with the updated tally! But I simply didn't have the time or energy to finish it 😪

I initially planned to make a drawing for the scene where Mickey undresses in the car. But Rory told me that the straddle scene would make way more sense. (which, true. sighhhh no undressing mickey 😪)

One of the first things I drew was thumbnails for our chapter art! We originally planned to give every chapter different art but decided to use that energy for the story art instead hehe. I had put the chapter art on the backburner for a while and when I looked back at what we had I just did not vibe with it. But I was also swamped with a bunch of other stuff so I asked Rory if she could make it instead. And I am SOOO glad that I did because SHE FUCKING DELIVERED!!!!!! The chapter art we have now might be one of my fav drawings of this entire fic!! - All the other unseen art has been made by @roryonic (I very much encourage her to show it! There's some beautiful pieces hidden from the world </3!!!!) Speaking of, once again thank you Rory for being overly ambitious on this project with me. LOL. I definitely had moments where I was scared that this would be a bust, or that I couldn't do it anymore. But your work ethic inspired me to keep going, and I am grateful for your support, both mentally and physically. Eternally grateful that you took on some of the art jobs ♥ Both thankful but sad that its over now!! 🤣 I think im gonna take a 200 hour nap now. Thanks for checking out our fic ♥

[jeeaark]

in a timeline where the illithid invasion never happen, a world where the absolute never existed, what would greygold's life be like? or maybe even lae'zel's? a world where they stumble upon each other without all the destruction around them.

The funny thing is.

Without squids trying to ruin their life, Greygold would have never discovered the power of friendship

Worse even, they'd still be a dispassionate lone ranger with questionable bird ethics surviving the wilderness and living off raw eggs like a weirdo.

Meanwhile, Lae'zel is still a Vlaakith devotee and if they stumble upon each other without a plot to drive them to work together and get to know each other... Bad things would happen! Someone would probably die. Most likely Greygold. But! Lets say. A plot did happen.

Buckle up buckaroos. This train thought went off the rails enough that I had to draw pics. Faster than writing out a 13k+ fic (for me anyway).

Let's say Greygold got the 'steal the githyanki egg ' job from Esther. Let's say they succeeded in sneaking in and out without too much of a fuss (mostly involving cat familiar distractions). And something Unfortunate happens before Greygold could complete the quest, leaving Greygold with an egg that eventually hatches:

And the githyanki child is not your average run-of-the-mill space lad either (Who loves eating raw eggs now too. It's fine. Builds character. Probably) But uh yeah, that whoosh accidentally cosmos-signaled all the githyankis and Vlaakith to which she reacts with a 'Wtf? Did anybody just get Prince of the Comet vibes from that? With a "I love egg" aftertaste? No? Just me? Hrm.... I do currently have a lot of free time on my hands....Fetch me that child. I want to study him like a bug. I'm suddenly feeling... Creatively ambitious with a side case of nefarious today. Might bury an old big secret if that kid is replacement-viable.' Thus search patrols investigate-

And never return.

After the first surprise patrol disaster, Greygold has been putting their danger ranger skills to good use via setting up counter-ambushes for all the constant surprise attacks. Classic "who is hunting who?" ordeal.

Nonetheless, there is more of them than there is of Greygold, so they resort to hiding in the Underdark after realizing the githyankis don't have dark vision and it's more environmentally dangerous than the surface. It is also a fun learning experience for the kid. Search patrols continue to never return. Until-

Lae'zel can't help but notice her mission orders do not add up and her rationality has a mighty need to make sense of it before solving problems with immediate hostility. Meanwhile this has been Greygold's first super tiny dose of kindness involving people interactions in years. Instant crush. Chase Shenanigans Ensue. Until child makes their first hunting trap. Instead of catching food, Lae'zel is captured. It also turns out the over-the-top trap involves sinking sand and a nest of Ankhegs (giant burrowing man-eating bugs). Greygold tries to help Lae'zel. For Reasons.

Something akin to mutual respect is formed. Stuck working together. Get to know each other. Discuss contradictions with mission. Verdigris worms his way into Lae'zel's heart (as much as she loathes his name). Escape the Ankheg nest which had terribly escalated because a giant fire ant invasion decided to overrun the ankheg nest at the same time.

Everyone is covered in bug guts after this.

Something something bond over experience enough to trust and listen to each other's opinions. Short Rest. Negotiate. Discuss plans to investigate Da Truth together. Shenanigans Ensue. Then Bad Shenanigans Ensue. Argument Ensues, resulting in Lae'zel Splitting Off. Verdigris disagrees with this approach and chases Lae'zel in order to bring back. Unanticipated Ambush happens at most inopportune moment. Greygold is Captured.

But they escape. Not before confronting Vlaakith's projection and discovering her plans and secrets thanks to one extremely curious Verdigrisgold (Verdi for short omg so long) with ridiculous super psionic powers.

And then they coincidentally interwovenly meet/save/recruit their bg3 companions anyway because there are no mindflayer abduction to stall certain ill-fated situations from happening to certain Companions-to-be and I need for them to be OKAY. So. Greygold discovers the power of friendship again. But is also now co-parenting a fate-of-the-githyanki-freedom child with Ex-Vlaakith-devotee Lae'zel. How's that for an AU timeline?

[sugusoneandonly]

Quixotic - STSG - ch 1

satosugu x fem!reader . ft. model!gojo & designer!geto

next

!! do not repost/copy on any other platform !! if u do at least lmk where and give creds 😒 !! pls don’t tho <3

cw: power dynamics/imbalance?? ,, established!stsg (no cheating) ,, webtoon inspired & lwk self-indulgent 😞 ,, y/n may be unlikable idk ntm on her guys 🥰

exes to lovers (gojo) ,, one-sides enemies to lovers w geto ,, very feminine + slight meek reader??

a/n!! :: hi this is my first fic ,, have mercy <33

some prior info for now i will add more later (and clean it up)

- not much of an age gap, suguru is js very successful at a young age.

- takes place 2 years after their breakup (mc | satoru)

- y/n is currently a fashion major in her final year of college and fortunately lives near her college and the shadowing program.

- the general plot is y/n is shadowing (following around, studying, etc. not rlly working for him

- NOTTT really real life accurate 🥰

Had you known that coming across your biggest idol would come along with meeting your oh so beloved ex, you would’ve thrown away whatever dreams had clouded your ambitious mind. Yet lo and behold, in front of you stood one of the most renowned fashion designers in the industry with your ex-boyfriend hanging off of him as a price tag (a very expensive tag for that matter).

Suguru Geto stood with pride as his spine and extravagance as his feet, hair that could’ve been painted with the midnight sky half up while the rest cascaded down his back. With an arm on his shoulder, and hair that would make the moon had Suguru’s been the sky, stood Satoru Gojo, your beloved ex. Both men dressed to the nines, outfits that were worth your monthly rent each.

You had cursed the creak of the door that had announced your entrance when you saw them. Gojo however, remained unaware of the stress that climbed your body. Instead, his lifted his eyes to meet yours, blinking back yet letting a small grin tickle his face. “Y/N!” his voice had drawn Suguru’s eyes to follow his line of sight like a siren.

Now, you and Gojo hadn’t had a horrendous break-up (although it’s after affects on you weren’t quite so), in fact it was rather peaceful (while it lasted). Gojo had called your 2 years of love off when he decided that he wanted to pursue a bigger, grander, future, one that apparently hadn’t included you. While he had wanted to go out, meet new people, flitter about the industry, the strain of a relationship had left awkward stains on his work. Especially certain modeling gigs that made him some extra cash.

It was your final year out of college and as one of the top students in your major, you had been provided a shadowing opportunity with various fashion designers to mentor the new rising generation of fashion. However, the pairings were randomized and the last person you’d expect to be yours was one of the greatest and youngest designers, who was also rumored to be your exes lover. How romantic. You had come across Geto’s work originally in a magazine for your project, and had looked him up online. While doing your extended research, you had seen the bright face of Gojo on several of his posts wearing his designs. Immediately you fell in love with his success, ethic, and designs. Dresses so intricate and suits embellished, as if they had walked straight of the manhwas you read.

Geto’s brow had raised at the mention of your name, no doubt familiar with it and the story that may have came with it. His eyes pierced through you, a small hum and what appeared to be a shadow of discontent danced over his face before it went away. He had leaned closer into Gojo after a thorough inspection of you. the rumors hold true then

“Hi.” slipped through your lips at last, however, meek. You feel 12 again showcasing your painting to the old judges in an art contest. Not an ounce of professionalism. Perhaps it wasn’t to late to run out yet.

“Y/N? I heard lots about you” Suguru’s voice came out like silk drowned in a snakes hiss, anxiety bubbled in your blood. “Good things I hope..I look forward to working with you..?” His lack of facial response had you lost in which direction to move this conversation. Instead of a response he simply hummed at looked back at the paper in his hands. Gojo, just as awkward standing beside him.

I wanna go home

©sugusoneandonly 2024

next

[taurusdaylight]

our rendezvous

summary. being lost in the horizon sounds scary, but not when you're hand in hand with your lover.

pairing. boyfriend! jaehyun x implied fem! reader

genre. established relationship! au, fluff

word count. 4,021

warnings/tags. as far as i know, nothing :) it's only a little angsty because of uncertainty about the future, but nothing too intense! very very fluffy,,,, maybe a lil pda (oh?)

a/n. ur resident valentine is back! i'm so sorry for going off the grid, my life has been a blur over the past few months… i did nothing and everything. anyway, this is inspired by none other than horizon (soty!) and i was very lucky to have had the opportunity to visit florence, where the horizon mv was filmed, so i knew i had to write this! after finishing it, i realised it's rather similar to my first fic but what can i say, i love jaehyun travel! aus, plus, jaehyun and forever just go together. <3 hope the new year is treating everyone kindly, and as always, have fun reading~

–

Navigating life after graduation was akin to walking through a maze, struggling to find a way out. Growing up, you always thought that everyone’s life had already been nicely written out since there were only two things that truly mattered: school and work. The adults always preached about how good academic records would land you a great job. All your life, you never failed to achieve and maintain stellar grades so you never doubted that you would get a job. Yet, as the day of your graduation approached, you started to worry that you might not end up finding a job. Or at least, one that was to your liking.

The thought of working for the rest of your life sounded… boring. Perhaps an oversimplification, but you always made sure to put a hundred percent into your studies, so you felt like you never really had the chance to live your life the way you wanted to. You weren’t a party animal per se, but you wouldn’t hesitate to skip a night out with your friends if you had an important deadline to meet. It was always academics over everything else. Apart from meeting expectations that others had on you, the fear of failure haunted you too. More often than not, the urge of wanting to disappear creeped into your mind. It didn’t seem like a bad idea, running away to some random part of the world where no one knew you. Once you’ve spent enough time there, you could easily travel to another city and explore till your heart’s content. That was the dream. Unfortunately, this particular dream of yours never came true.

That was, until now.

Treading the path of adulthood was admittedly scary, you could slip and fall at any given moment and not know how to pick yourself up. But, you weren’t on your own. 

Jeong Jaehyun, your boyfriend of two years, shared the same sentiment. Sure, he was ambitious and had his goals set out. Like you, however, working himself to death wasn’t one of the things on his list. Jaehyun believed that it was important to strike a balance, to not throw yourself into something so deep that you would get lost in it. Working may be important but it would never hurt to have a little fun whenever time called for it. 

You first met Jaehyun in Introduction to Film Studies. Both second-year students, you and Jaehyun clicked extremely well with each other as you bonded over your shared love for films. What started as study sessions to help each other with assignments eventually progressed to warm, cosy movie date nights that also involved cuddling under a fluffy blanket on Jaehyun’s couch. 

While there have been minor arguments over those two years, you and Jaehyun always made sure to communicate. After all, a couple is supposed to fight the problem, not each other. The both of you understood that. These disagreements never bothered you that much because you believed that they were part and parcel of every relationship. Instead, you wondered more about how lucky you are to have found someone like Jaehyun. As you liked to put it, Jaehyun was your twin flame. He spoke to your soul in a way that no one else could.

Instead of taking the conventional route of starting a full-time job after graduating, you and Jaehyun booked one-way tickets to Rome the week after your final exams. How long the both of you were going to stay there for, that was a question for another time. The plan was to have no plan, going wherever your feet took you. Both of your parents weren’t exactly agreeable about this idea, nagging about how irresponsible and irrational it was. But what could they do? It’s not as if they could physically stop two grown adults from going. Eventually, they were able to come to terms with it and simply asked the both of you to stay safe. 

It’s been about three weeks or so since you two arrived in Rome. Tranquil mornings without a blaring alarm was something that you could really get used to. The icing on the cake would be waking up to the sight of Jaehyun sleeping peacefully next to you, an arm securely draped around your waist. His lips would slightly jut out, you would sometimes sneak a kiss or two because he simply looked too adorable to resist. 

A day out together would look something like sitting by an artwork in a museum, coming up with various interpretations or hopping from café to café to try out different desserts (which were often, gelato), you couldn’t count with your fingers the number of times the staff had to chase the both of you out because they were closing. Time is said to fly past when you’re having fun, but even more so when you’re spending it with the love of your life. At least, that’s what you think. 

The both of you woke up earlier than usual today because you’d turned in early the previous night, probably exhausted from all the walking. The sun wasn’t up yet, which meant that there were limited stores that were operating during this time too. It felt like a waste to sleep in and laze around in the apartment, so came the impulse decision of buying last-minute train tickets to Florence. 

“C’mon baby,” Jaehyun half-shouted, his gaze flickering between you and the platform located at the other end of the station.

Hands intertwined, you and Jaehyun were sprinting as fast as your legs could carry you in order to catch your train that leaves in approximately two minutes. Or rather, you were doing everything in your power to match Jaehyun’s speed because why was he running like he was competing in the Olympics? So much for wanting an athletic boyfriend. 

You were almost out of breath from running, you didn’t even have the energy to give Jaehyun a verbal answer. Instead, you tried to speed up like he told you to. After what felt like a hundred miles, the both of you finally reached the platform, boarded the train, and settled down into your allocated seats. 

“Oh my goodness. We are never doing that again,” you said, panting. 

Jaehyun shot you a wide grin. “Now that’s what I call an intense leg day.” 

You were rendered speechless. Here you were, thinking that he was going to agree with you. But you also remembered that Jaehyun was a gym rat first, your boyfriend second. Jaehyun goes a little over the top with exercising, you could tell that much just by looking at his physique. Though, you wouldn’t say that it was exactly a bad thing. In fact, what a sight for sore eyes he was… 

Before you had a chance to respond, Jaehyun used his other hand to push your head towards his shoulder. “Go to sleep, doll. Don’t want you feeling cranky in the middle of the day because you didn’t get to take your daily nap. I’ll wake you up when we’re reaching.”

Despite not being able to see him, you could hear the smile in Jaehyun’s voice, which caused you to grin too. Perhaps it was Jaehyun’s shoulder that made you comfy, but you could feel the sleepiness slowly start to envelop you, so you snuggled even closer to him.

“Good night, Jay,” you said before falling into slumber.

–

The train ride took faster than expected, probably because you were asleep throughout the journey. Upon alighting, you and Jaehyun walked aimlessly along Via Faenza. You stopped in your tracks when you caught the pleasant aroma of coffee beans coming from a café, it was so inviting that the both of you had no choice but to enter.

Save for the long line of people in office-wear queuing to get their morning coffee fix, there was no one else occupying the seats in the café. Wanting to be away from the crowd, you and Jaehyun made your way to the corner booth seat situated all the way inside after getting your order. You sat next to each other, with Jaehyun's arm wrapped around your waist. Your torso was slightly exposed because of the cropped top that you wore, and Jaehyun’s fingertips easily found purchase on your skin. Soft traces all over, which oddly enough, made you feel tingly and warm simultaneously. 

“Jaehyun,” you called out.

He turned to look at you. “Hmm?” 

“Do you regret being here with me? Don’t you feel like you’re wasting your life away?”

Jaehyun halted his movements, but he did not loosen his grip on your waist. His answer was written all over his face, from his creased eyebrows to his frowning lips. 

“Of course not, baby. Did I do or say something to make you think that way? I’m sorry if I did,” he said sincerely. 

“No, you didn’t do or say anything of that sort!” you quickly clarified. “I think I’m just worried about the future, you know? Once all of this is over…”

A small smile played on Jaehyun’s lips as he removed his arm from your waist. He cupped your face in his hand, sighing. “I wish you could see yourself the way I saw you, because then you’d have nothing to worry about at all. You’re going to do great things, ____. I’m sure of that. But for now, just let loose and enjoy yourself, okay? You deserve to have a break.” 

Jaehyun’s words could bring you to tears. He radiated so much positivity that it naturally rubbed off onto you, especially with the amount of time that you spend with each other. However, there were still moments of weakness, like now, where you’d inevitably think about how things could possibly go wrong. Before you could spiral into a whirlpool of negative thoughts, however, Jaehyun would pull you right out of it by telling you exactly what you need to hear in order to help get you through these times.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Jaehyun’s cheek.

Jaehyun made a sound, as if to signal that he was pondering. He pointed at his cheek and tapped on it with his index finger several times. “One more?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his request, but who were you to deny him? Since you were feeling generous and grateful to your boyfriend, you quickly moved closer to give him two more kisses. One on his cheek, and the other on his lips. The best part was seeing the Cheshire cat smile appear on his face after he’d received his well-deserved kisses.

For the rest of the time at the café, you and Jaehyun were people-watching through the glass window while sipping on coffee and feeding each other small spoonfuls of pastries. At some point, random passer-bys became a part of a guessing game that started out of nowhere. Dating or siblings? What would their coffee order be if they came in here? The both of you had a lot of fun making up stories to back up your answer, boisterous laughter sounding through the place. 

Afterwards, you and Jaehyun continued wandering through the streets now that more stores have opened. An apparel store selling headwear caught Jaehyun’s eye, and he spent about twenty minutes or so looking through the bucket hats. Taking one in his hand, he tried it on and started making silly faces at you while dancing. 

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” You reached a hand out in an attempt to remove the hat from Jaehyun’s head, but he swiftly avoided you.

He held on tightly to the hat. “I think this was made for me. I’m definitely getting it.”

The hat didn’t look bad on him, but it was still… questionable. A helpless sigh escaped your lips when you knew that nothing you say would change his mind. “Okay… as long as you’re happy.” 

Fortunately, Jaehyun didn’t have thoughts of wearing the hat there and then. Because if not, you would think twice about walking next to him.

The next few stores mostly sold vintage items and souvenirs. You and Jaehyun ended up getting matching gnomes that had the initials of your first names carved into it. While checking out at the counter, the cashier made a comment about how cute the two of you look together and that the gnomes were such fitting choices, so much so that they looked like mini versions of you two. With shy smiles, the both of you thanked her before exiting the store. You also noticed the tinge of red on Jaehyun’s ears, but kept quiet about it since you were most likely a blushing mess yourself. 

Then, it was time for lunch. 

You and Jaehyun had previously crafted a mini bucket list, and one of the things on the list was to try the various types of pasta while you were in Italy, so that’s what the both of you had for lunch. It appeared that all the shopping must have taken up a great deal of your energy because the both of you still had an appetite for dessert afterwards, or, rather, gelato was considered a staple so there was no way that dessert could be skipped. 

Although it was sunny, the summer heat wasn’t unbearable so you two were at the outdoor seating area of the gelato café. Within the vicinity of the café, there was a group of children playing catch with one another. After finishing the gelato, Jaehyun dragged you along to them. 

“Ciao! I’m Jay,” he introduced with a friendly smile. 

You introduced yourself to them too and stood behind Jaehyun, hiding slightly. You didn’t have anything against children, but you still considered them to be strangers, and you always had a hard time talking to strangers due to your reserved nature. You barely had any experience with children too so this was still foreign to you.

On the flipside, Jaehyun adores children. You could see it in the way his eyes would light up whenever he interacted with him. Not to mention, he was great with children (an understatement, if you had to be truthful). Seeing Jaehyun with children always made your heart swell, in a good or bad way, you weren’t sure… The only thing you were certain of was that you definitely wanted to have his children.

While you were spacing out, Jaehyun was quick to ask and memorise the names of the children. He played around with them for a bit and made sure to include you as well, the game of catch was never so fun before. However, it wasn’t long before you got tired, so you opted to sit at one corner to watch them. You whipped out your phone to capture this moment, giggling at how precious Jaehyun looked. Happiness looked great on Jaehyun, and you hoped that it would stay on him for a long, long time.

All of them grew tired after a few rounds too, putting an end to the game. While they were busy running around, you discreetly returned back to the café and told the cashier that you would be paying for the children to get gelato. You also grabbed a bottle of water and gave it to Jaehyun, who was perspiring profusely; indeed, an intense leg day it was for him. 

Through body language and very poorly spoken Italian, you tried to tell the children that they could go pick out the flavours that they wanted at the café. You were far too preoccupied with communicating that to them, the endearing look that Jaehyun had on his face went unnoticed by you. Thankfully, the cashier was there to bridge the language barrier and they managed to get their gelato without any hiccups. Before leaving, each of the children gave you and Jaehyun a hi-five, a word of thanks echoing after one another.

Having spent almost the entire day in that area, you and Jaehyun decided to explore another part of the city before catching your train back to Rome. Long before this trip, you happened to stumble upon a website about the top spots that offered a picturesque view of the city. One of which was a twenty minute bus ride away from where you and Jaehyun were currently at. 

When the bus arrived, you and Jaehyun entered by the back door and sat down. You were busy admiring the old architecture of the buildings outside until you felt Jaehyun’s hand touching the side of your face. You realised that he was trying to put one side of his wired earpiece in your ear, which caused you to turn and face him, and you saw that he already had the other side of the earpiece in. Jaehyun was smiling so widely that his dimples were showing. You brought a hand up to poke it, feeling a sense of victory because you were one of the very few people in the world whom he allowed to touch his dimples.

Shyly, you took Jaehyun’s hand and interlocked your fingers together. No words were exchanged between the both of you, but there was a mutual feeling that this exact moment perfectly encapsulated the love you and Jaehyun have for each other. Tender, somewhat otherworldly in a way where everything, like the chatter of the other passengers on the bus, seemed to fade out in the background. 

As Can’t Take My Eyes Off You started playing through the earphones, you took it as an opportunity to mouth to Jaehyun, “I love you.”

Jaehyun’s dimples became more prominent at your sudden declaration. He made sure not to break eye contact with you before he mouthed back, “I love you.”

–

“Look!” you exclaimed, pointing toward the replica statue of David. It was the first thing that you saw after alighting from the bus.

Jaehyun turned his head to look at what you were pointing at. “Wow, it’s stunning."

The both of you hurriedly walked over to take some photos, which ended up in you and Jaehyun bursting into fits of laughter because he was imitating the statue and posing in the same way. It definitely earned you a few stares from the other visitors, but you and Jaehyun were too busy laughing to even notice that you two were getting judged. 

After snapping a few more photos, you and Jaehyun went to the other side of the square where you could see an overview of the city. It was breathtaking, to say the least, the both of you concurrently marvelled in awe at how it looked like a scene straight out of a movie. You could even spot the street that you two were at earlier in the day, as well as many other famous landmarks. Not to forget, the surrounding trees and mountains made it feel more complete, it was a perfect getaway from the bustling city for some peace and quiet. 

The both of you were standing at the top of the stairs, and you saw that there was a walking trail below. Due to time constraints, however, it seemed more logical to sit and admire the view, since neither of you knew how long the walking trail was and where it led to. Besides, it was a perfect spot to catch the sunset before you had to leave for the train station, so you two sat on one of the steps near the top where you had an unobstructed view of the city.

Like before, you and Jaehyun were listening to music together while holding hands. Other than humming along to the song, Jaehyun would also sing some of the lyrics to you, especially if it was a sweet or cheesy line. 

“Can’t believe I get to be here with you.” Even after some time had passed, you were still greatly impressed by the scenic view, in disbelief about how you could share this moment with your lover. The bright orange hues of the sun added more colour to the backdrop, it felt surreal watching it slowly go down.

“Me too,” Jaehyun replied almost immediately. “It feels like a dream…” 

“If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up from it,” you said while shifting closer to Jaehyun’s side. “Like, ever.”

“I want to stay here with you forever.” Your voice came out as a whisper, because deep down, a part of you was afraid that this happiness would be taken away from you abruptly. 

Yet again, Jaehyun made one of those sounds to indicate that he was thinking, which made you gasp in response.

“You don’t want to be with me?” you questioned, a look of betrayal on your face.

“No, silly,” Jaehyun chuckled. “Of course I want to be with you.”

Jaehyun let out a deep breath, as though he had to brace himself for what he was going to say next. “The thought of eternity feels scary. But if I know that you’ll be there with me, then… there’s nothing to be scared of. I think, for me… forever is where you are, wherever that may be.”

Silence ensued, music playing through the shared earphones being the only source of sound. Jaehyun gulped awkwardly when he noticed that your gaze was fixed on him, but you weren’t saying anything. “Did that come out wrong? I don’t even know what I’m saying sometimes. But I guess I was trying to say that–”

You cut Jaehyun off with a kiss. He smiled against your lips, causing you to do the same. Jaehyun’s hand travelled to the small of your back to pull you in before he tilted his head to the side for better access, going straight for your upper lip to return the kiss. It was slow, delicate, and everything you could ever ask for. You sighed when you felt Jaehyun’s hand running over your skin; he knew exactly what he was doing. Every kiss that you shared with Jaehyun never fell short of being exhilarating, which was one of the great things about love… or Jaehyun. Perhaps, both. 

He was the first to pull away, staring intently at you with a cheeky smile on his face. Jaehyun leaned in closer until he could bury his head into the crook of your neck, leaving another kiss on your collarbone. You wrapped your arms around his frame, hugging him as tightly as possible. You and Jaehyun stayed like this for a while until you heard a lady yelp from a distance away, her loud voice grabbing your attention.

As you looked up to find out what the commotion was about, tears immediately filled your eyes and you had to do everything that you could to hold them back. 

The said lady was standing by the railing, both hands covering her mouth. In front of her was a man, down on one knee, holding out a box with a diamond ring. You tapped Jaehyun’s shoulder so that he’d sit back up, and he turned to see what you were looking at. All of the other visitors were also invested, as everyone patiently for the lady's answer. 

Everything happened so quickly. The lady nodding and getting pulled into a hug by her fiancé, the crowd erupting in cheers and applause–a truly sweet moment to witness. Without thinking much, you blurted out, “that’s going to be us.” 

Jaehyun diverted his attention back to you, shaking his head. Seemingly biting back a smile as his lips formed a thin line, Jaehyun jerked his head to motion at something behind you. “That’s us.”

You were about to protest, pop another question that was something along the lines of whether or not he was planning to marry you. However, you remained quiet and decided to take a look at what he was referring to first. 

Well, it looks like the urge to complain has completely disappeared. How could it not? Rather than dissatisfaction, your heart leapt with joy when your eyes landed on a couple standing hand in hand at the other end of the steps from where you and Jaehyun sat; they were having their pre-wedding photoshoot.

[theminecraftbee]

so, first, accountability statement: I plan on trying to finish the “zedaph steals a baby” fic by the end of the month and god is that one-line summary no longer accurate but we’re sticking to it, said here publicly so now I have to do it. obviously I also have recursive exchange and the writing I have for hotguy comics zine, but I am not SUPER worried about either of those time/inspiration-wise at the moment and also for Reasons I know it won’t be long until I have more free writing time after that, SO.

various items that are on my potential writing docket, I am curious which of these appeal most:

I dust off the supervillain support group au. two ways this could go: I chip away at the second arc of my original outline and acknowledge this will be like a 300k fic I’m not ready to feel “done” with or “ready to post” with for ages, or I re-work it into something a little more doable and less ambitious keeping the same premise (ren runs a support group for supervillains, doc pov as he starts to heal and redeem himself). this MAY honestly be a target for “if I don’t hate the first 50k on re-reading it and I can actually make my brain write the second arc, do a slower release schedule and then start releasing chapters before I’m done writing”? but this ALSO runs the risk of “I stopped writing it, which is often a sign I was having trouble writing it”.

pearl monster au, which has been cooking in my head for a long while. the basic premise is “one day, pearl, with no memory of how or why this happened, wakes up in a facility as a monster and must try to figure out how she got there, escape, and find her way home, even knowing she may be irrevocably changed”. now with bonus season 10 fish flavor to add to this creature design I’ve been iterating on in my head for forever! this one is ALSO an experiment for me in “can I write a fic where I can’t write dialogue for basically the entire first act”, which would be interesting to see from me, you know?

the related “bigb folklore au”, where after secret life bigb is woken up by Cat and Dog by the tracks of the King Snake, which bigb can recognize as the railroad track, and decides to journey down the railroad to see if he can figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to do video review of life series bigb for this one. this is my excuse to get Weird and Metaphorical and also assign everyone to various animals for no reason, along with using some very specific aesthetic I have wanted to use for some worldbuilding but hadn’t gotten around to yet in any of my stuff. man walks through the desert with animal, confronts train that might be the watchers, might be death, and might just be a train. also, realizes that “confront” is the operative word there and has to deal with that. you know how it is.

““office au””, in air quotes because it’s not REALLY what anyone going to an office au is looking for so much as an excuse to write weird horror. iskall, normal-ish software developer man in a boring office job who does game jams in his free time, goes to work one day to work in his boring downtown office on a payment system for a client. and then things, uh, Take A Turn. this would be a LITTLE me going “what if I wrote an au with a guy who works in tech but like, the boring side of tech I’m in. like, banks and consulting and manufacturing and shit. where you sit in meetings all day and tweak java 8 code even though that language is ten years out of date. but THEN. something exciting happens in the worst way possible.” I’m doing to iskall what I did to mumbo stuffed bird is what I’m saying. it’d be fun.

DO ANY OF THESE PARTICULARLY INTEREST ANYONE. your input will be valued. like 50% chance i get hit with a strong bolt of inspiration then IGNORE that input but it’ll be valued all the same,

[vivwritesfics]

Maxiel HC's

Part one I guess, more relationshippy stuff to come

Normally it's reader and one of the boys together first, but not in this story

This story starts at Red Bull Racing, when Max and Daniel were racing for the same time

Max was young and ambitious and Daniel walked around with heart eyes (most of the time)

(There were times where Daniel wanted to kill Max, like when they'd fight each other on track. But, as soon as it happened, Daniel would find himself melting at Max's smile and forgiving him)

Max didn't know how he felt, just that he felt some type of way about Daniel

Daniel knew exactly what he felt for Max

Half way through the 2018 season they began sharing kisses, hidden away in hotel rooms

Daniel knew he couldn't stay at Red Bull, not with how he felt for Max (oh my god I could write a whole ao3 fic about these two)

Daniel moved to Renault and Max couldn't help but feel betrayed

Daniel didn't "break up" with him, but he didn't have to

They were never really together

So, Max hid away his upset and distracted himself

He found somebody new to distract him from Daniel

He found Y/N

Max went public with her very quickly

He took her on three dates in very quick succession before asking her to be his

From there Y/N was always in the paddock

A usually quite private Max was showing her off whenever he could, keeping his arms wrapped around her and kissing her

The media loved it

They didn't know it was all for Daniels benefit

The Australian didn't let it get to hem

Well he tried

He tried so damn hard

But, as soon as he got Max alone, he snapped

Pushing him into an empty room Daniel pushed him up against a wall

It was a side of Daniel Max had never seen

He couldn't stop that cheeky, irritating smirk from crossing his features

In that moment, the two of them hidden away, Daniel went from angry to sad

Sad that Max didn't want he love anymore

Sad that he had lost his Max

The smirk dropped from Max's face and he pulled Daniel in close

"Y/Ns coming to mine for dinner on Wednesday, you should join us," Max said as he patted Daniels back

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Just trust me"

So Daniel did just that

On Wednesday he joined Max and and Y/N for dinner

It was awkward and uncomfortable at first

Especially when Max brought up his and Daniels past

And then told her of their dilemma

But then Y/N came up with a fantastic idea

"Well, I don't know Daniel very well," she began, her hand held in Max's. She looked across the table at the Australian. "But we should get to know each other. Yeah, we could make this work"

"Make what work, Schat?"

"This. Us. The two of you want to be together, clearly. And I want to be with you, Max. So why don't Daniel and I get to know each other and then we could try to all be together?"

Daniel had no objections

Max had no objections

So, Daniel and Y/N went on a few dates

It wasn't easy, her relationship with Max was so public that they couldn't exactly go out to any restaurants or anything

So, they settled for dinners and wine

At first, nothing

They were a little awkward

It took them drinking a little bit too much with some Taylor Swift playing in the background for anything to actually happen

Daniel sat on the couch, his empty glass of wine on the coffee table

Y/N had accidentally tipped hers over and was quickly mopping it up

When she walked back in her hips were swaying from side to side as she gripped the bottom of her skirt

A rather drunk Daniel pulled her down, pulling him into her lap

Y/N wrapped her arms around him as she sang along to the song

Suddenly they were kissing

Lips and teeth clashing as they kissed with a certain ferocity

Things changed after that

The three of them had a date, all of them together

Y/N hosted, cooking for them and providing drinks

She watched as Daniel and Max sat closer than friends should have, how their touches lingered

As they looked back at her they were still touching

It was weird kissing Daniel in front of Max

But Max made it more comfortable

By making it rather sexual

He stood behind Y/N, gripping her hips, kissing her neck as she wrapped her own arms around Daniels neck and kissed him

Things didn't go further in that moment, not when Y/Ns fire alarm went off

They weren't public, not until they were used to things

Once they were comfortably snogging

Once Y/N was happy to lay across them while they watched television

Once they all slept in the same bed together pretty happily (these two cuddled up in the night? It's gonna get hot af)

They were ready to go public

The fans had noticed Y/N hadn't been seen with Max for ages

When she returned to the paddock, her neck was bruised black and purple with hickies and she was holding Daniel Ricciardo's hand

What the fuck?

[porcelainseashore]

Teenage Headache Dreams (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: Final chapter, wow! Well, not quite. I am working on a Part 2 Ghosts from the Past that will fix the Hurt No Comfort ending to this fic. Before I forget, the Smut warning also applies here. It’s my first time writing smut, please be gentle 🙂 Thanks again for all your wonderful support!

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Is This Goodbye?

Your time in college was exactly how you imagined it - exciting, eye-opening and challenging. Not only did you develop a lot artistically in those years, you became a bolder, more street smart version of yourself. What was initially raw ambition turned into a cosmopolitan New York drive that rubbed off on you. Whenever you came back to visit your hometown, you were seen as that sophisticated, big city woman you’d always wanted to be.

Leon on the other hand had grown more quiet and serious. He still joked around with you, but it seemed like his focus on doing well at the police academy matured him. He became analytical and observant, following the “look before you leap” approach more often than not. The training had also done his physique good - he was at his fittest and strongest yet.

You were proud of him. He had turned into the man you wanted to be with, not that you had ever doubted his abilities. However, it was a lot tougher to keep up the long-distance relationship than both of you had expected. It wasn’t so simple to see each other, which needed a couple of adjustments, and college life was in itself filled with hard work and distractions. Despite that, you powered through, hoping it would get easier someday, or that your paths would align better again. For now, you had to content yourself with meeting at home during the holidays, or making the trip out to either college for the odd weekend.

There were people who said it wouldn’t last. That you were wasting away your college years being with your high school sweetheart, when you should be living it up and partying like you were single. You knew where they were coming from, and you were pretty sure Leon was probably going through the same dilemma as you, but for some reason both of you didn’t want to give up. That said, you knew you had to end the distance at some point. It was clearly taking a toll on your relationship.

When you graduated from your respective colleges and returned home for a break before moving on with the next chapter of your lives, you were thankful to get some much-needed time together for once. However, the few months you had to yourselves flew by so quickly, you felt like it wasn’t enough. It never was.

“So… you could have picked literally anywhere to be stationed, but you chose Raccoon City?” You sighed audibly, as a way of letting your displeasure at the news be known. Here you were, in Leon’s house, shifting around a couple of moving boxes to help him pack up his stuff. He would be joining his new police family in a week’s time. 

Dumping one of the boxes on the ground in frustration, you continued on your rant. “I mean, you were practically a Valedictorian!”

Instantly, you felt Leon’s arms wrap around you from behind, holding you close to him as he murmured into your hair. “Baby, we’ve gone through this. You know I’ve wanted to be put on the Arklay murder cases.” He squeezed you tighter. “I’ll prove myself, I know I can.”

“It’s not about that.” You turned to face him with a pensive frown, tracing the outline of his jaw with your fingers. “I believe you’ll be the finest goddamn cop in the world, but I thought we wanted to stop being apart?”

His brows etched together as he regarded you with a hint of dejection. “Well, what do you want me to say? We knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

“I want to be with you, Leon.” You kissed his neck and buried your face into it, inhaling his musky scent deeply. “Close to you.” 

He shivered, closing his eyes as your hot breath hit his skin. “Then why don’t you come stay with me?”

You looked up, startled by his sudden proposal. “What? Are you sure?”

“More than sure.” He opened his eyes, staring at you resolutely.

You didn’t expect him to ask you to move in with him so soon, but in some way you were comforted by the fact that he still felt so strongly about you, despite these difficult years. You were tempted to give in and just say “Yes”, but at the back of your mind, you knew you had a decision to make. You had received offers from various dance companies, most of which were located in New York or abroad, where you would be thriving. Not out in the middle of nowhere in the Midwest.

The sharp trill of a telephone ringing cut through the air, interrupting your thoughts. Leon broke away apologetically. “Uh- sorry, I need to take this.”

You waited in the hallway, hearing only snippets of the conversation, but it sounded like Leon was confused. You regarded him curiously, as he walked back to where you stood with a puzzled look on his face.

“They told me not to come in,” he muttered to himself.

“Huh? Who?” you questioned.

“I don’t know, someone at the RPD.” He paused, his forehead creasing as he scowled. “They said there were some issues and to stay away for now.”

“Nothing else?” 

“Nuh uh.” He shook his head.

“That’s weird.” You folded your arms, trying to rack your brain for plausible explanations. 

“Maybe they’ll call you again when they’re ready?” You suggested, stroking his arm reassuringly. “It’s probably some admin mess up.”

He shrugged, looking rather crestfallen. You knew how eager he was to start his new job and seeing him in such a state made you feel bad for him.

“Come here.” You reached out, taking him in your arms again. “I know you’re frustrated it’s not working out as planned,” you began. “But honestly, I’m just happy to have you to myself for a little longer.”

He peered down at you, the corners of his mouth breaking out into a smile. “You’re impossible,” he breathed, sealing your lips with an intimate kiss.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A week went by, and then another. Leon heard nothing.

However, you relished the lazy mornings waking up next to him in bed, snuggling together which often led to something more. You didn’t want this to end, but in the coming days, you noticed him pace around the room anxiously, glancing every so often at the telephone, in the hopes he would get another call to report in.

It finally came to a breaking point, where he decided that he should just go in anyway to check on things. His parents cooked up a farewell meal the night before to send him off. You sat next to him at the dining table, looking down at your plate and poking gingerly at the food. You had hardly eaten.

When his parents went into the kitchen to bring out more drinks and the dessert, he whispered into your ear, “You know, it’s rude to play with your food.”

You turned towards him with a wistful smile, admitting, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied. Below the table, his hand crept underneath your skirt, tracing the side of your thigh, before making its way between your legs. You closed your eyes and sighed at his touch. “But it’s only temporary, right?”

His words caused you to look away in shame, biting your cheek. You still hadn’t made up your mind about the offers and in turn, whether you would live with him. But deep down, you knew you were just stalling for time. It was one thing moving to the city, but moving countries? That would most likely spell the end of your relationship. 

“I don’t know where I’m going… yet.”

He tilted your chin in his direction and you could see the weariness in his eyes, like he was tired of rehashing this topic over and over again. “Look, let’s just enjoy this last night together, ok?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t know why, but something about the way he said it felt so final and it bothered you. But you didn’t want to argue anymore. You wanted to pretend that everything was fine as it was.

Then, his parents came back to the table and his mom gestured to the wine bottle in her hand. “Some more?”

You nodded and thanked her, as she filled your glass and his dad served out the dessert. All the while, Leon’s hand never left your inner thigh, drawing absentminded circles on your skin, apparently impatient to have some alone time with you.

Soon, they excused themselves to retire to bed, leaving you and Leon to clear away the dishes. Once that was done, you settled on the living room couch, where you had shared many memories of watching movies and chatting til the early hours of the morning. Curling up against Leon, you rested your head against his chest, feeling its rise and fall, and listening to his heartbeat.

“Shall we pick up from where we left off?” His fingers grazed your bare legs again. One last time? A voice echoed in your head, but you shrugged it off.

“Are they asleep?” You wondered out loud.

“Pretty certain,” he replied nonchalantly. “You’re getting rusty at this, aren’t you?” He smirked, sinking his weight onto you so that you fell back on the cushioned seat of the couch, while he groped your hips and breasts through your lace camisole, planting kisses all over your body.

You felt like teenagers again, making out and fondling each other over your clothes on the couch, while his parents slept soundly upstairs. Back then, it never led to anything too serious. You were just fooling around and exploring each other’s bodies without getting caught. This time though, your clothes didn’t stay on for very long.

He chuckled at your restlessness as you tugged off his shirt, running your hands along his toned chest towards his abs. “Enjoying the view?”

“It’s not bad,” you half-lied, throwing him an alluring smile as you palmed his growing erection through his jeans. He hissed in response, grinding it against your hand. “But this is just getting in the way.”

“Well, if the lady insists-” He pushed himself up to a seated position and you groaned at the loss of contact, as well as in anticipation of his cheesy comeback. “-then who am I to deny her?” You heard the sound of his belt unbuckle as he slid out of his jeans, chucking it carelessly to the floor.

The bulge in his plain black boxers caused you to subconsciously lick your lips as he hovered over you, slipping the straps of your camisole to the sides suggestively. “I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one getting naked here.”

Nuzzling your nose against his playfully, you stole a quick kiss from his lips before shifting yourself up, allowing him to take your top off with ease. He hummed in appreciation as your breasts spilled out, nipples hardening from the cool air in the room. You knew he liked it when you went without a bra. Cupping your right breast in his hand, he gave it a small squeeze, thumbing its peak before taking it into his mouth, licking and sucking it eagerly. A low moan escaped from your throat, as you grasped tufts of his blonde hair, while his other hand slid under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down unceremoniously. 

His tongue flicked against your nipple at the same time as he stroked your folds through the soaked fabric of your white thong that accentuated your curves perfectly. Your body jolted from the sensitivity as you held back a whimper.

“Mm… so wet already,” he murmured, somewhat proud of himself. It wasn’t always this way. You remembered the first time you and Leon had sex - the awkwardness, fumbling around blindly in the dark, trying to find your way into the positions, but at least there was a lot of laughter. Eventually you adjusted and learnt how your bodies responded to each other, and now he knew how to make this night memorable.

Pushing your thong to the side, you felt his index finger enter your pussy as his thumb played with your clit, causing you to gasp in response. “You like that, baby?” he asked, checking in with you.

“Mm hm,” you nodded, your voice sounding high-pitched and strained. “More,” you begged.

He obliged, slipping in another finger and quickening the pace slightly. You moved your hips against them, allowing him to penetrate you deeper, and coating his fingers with your arousal. As he continued thrusting into you, he trailed the tip of his tongue from your breasts, down along your stomach, reaching your mound and finally swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your breathing grew shallow and rapid with each stroke.

His fingers curled forward, pressing against that sweet, spongy spot, causing you to jerk in response, clamping his face between your thighs. Your core tightened and burned, as waves of euphoria built up in your body. Biting into your knuckles to let out a strangled moan, the walls of your pussy clenched around his fingers as you reached your climax.

It felt as if the world had stopped spinning for a moment as you came down from your orgasm, chest heaving and sweat dripping between your breasts. “Wow,” you exhaled. Gradually, your vision came into focus as you saw Leon facing you, grinning through his plump lips, moistened by a mixture of saliva and your fluids.

“Was it good?” He had the audacity to ask, even though he already knew the answer. However, the praise he received from you couldn’t hurt. Rolling your eyes, you shifted your weight onto his body, pushing him against the backrest of the couch as you sat on his lap. 

“It was amazing,” you acknowledged, kissing him sloppily as you tasted yourself on his mouth, before slinking down to the ground on your knees, coming to rest between his legs. His eyes widened in recognition, taking the hint as he pulled down his boxers, kicking them to the side. Instinctively, you reached for his cock, already painfully hard and erect. The tip of it was weeping with precum which you smeared with your thumb, causing it to twitch in your hand as he gritted his teeth and groaned into your touch.

Leon’s gaze was transfixed on you as you pumped his shaft a few times sensually, before running your tongue along the length of his cock, filling it entirely in your mouth when you reached the top. 

He sucked in a sharp breath. “God, that’s hot.”

You pulled your mouth off his cock, still keeping your hand tightly wrapped around its base. How could you pass up on such an opportunity to tease him? Batting your eyelashes, you pouted up at him. “You want me to continue?”

You swore you could have heard a whimper, before he pleaded, a little too enthusiastically, “Fuck yes,” so much so you had to remind him to keep his voice down.

Satisfied with his mini outburst, you smiled cheekily and went back at it. He held your hair up firmly with one hand and balled the other into a fist, gripping the edge of the seat as he watched you suck on his cock through half-lidded eyes. Your lips stretched over it as you took it all the way in and came back up, circling your tongue around the tip and ridge. He threw his head back, turning to the side to muffle his whines and you sped up, increasingly turned on by the sounds you drew out of him.

At some point, Leon tapped on your shoulder lightly, indicating for you to stop. “I’m sorry, baby. I won’t last if you keep doing this,” he made out through labored breaths.

You nodded understandingly as he pulled you up again into his arms, so that you were straddling his lap, and he littered you with tender kisses in appreciation. You cherished these moments of affection in between. It was like a calm respite in the eye of the storm. 

Afterwards, you discarded the thong that was looking a little worse for wear and lifted yourself slightly, guiding his cock towards your entrance as he rested his hands on both sides of your ass. He took in the view fully, his dilated pupils burning with desire, as he memorized every detail of your body and the intoxicated expression so clearly marked across your face when you sank down onto him.

Once you had eased in, you moved up and down his hard length, breasts bouncing in a similar motion as you rocked your hips in sync with his thrusts upwards into you. Clinging on to his broad shoulders, you gasped each time he bottomed out inside. He whispered in hushed tones, telling you how beautiful you were, how good you felt, and how much he was yours, as you swallowed your guilt, pushing away whatever dreams you had of a future living together with him.

Seemingly oblivious to your thoughts, Leon kneaded your ass, spreading its cheeks apart as you rode his cock faster and harder to distract yourself. Feeling another orgasm build up in your aching cunt, you dug your nails into his skin, the sensation causing him to growl and buck his hips up, plunging into you. When you let out a loud yelp, he stopped abruptly, eyeing you with concern as you raised a hand to your mouth in embarrassment.

“Was that too much?” “You think they heard me?” You both asked in unison, before exchanging looks and giggling quietly, as you reassured him that he hadn’t hurt you. The room was silent except for your breathing and nothing stirred in the night. It seemed like his parents must be heavy sleepers.

“Leon…” you called out, gently caressing his cheek as he stared at you with those icy blue eyes. “I want you, but-”

“Shhh, it’s ok,” he interrupted, bringing his finger to your lips, as if he already knew what you were about to say. Maybe he just wanted tonight to be perfect as it was too. Tomorrow could wait.

The next minute, he pulled you flush against his hips, before pinning you flat onto the couch seat with your wrists restrained above your head. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and his cock was still buried deep in your pussy. With renewed vigor he set a relentless pace as he pounded into you, coaxing moan after moan from your mouth. He leaned in to kiss your throat, muttering against your skin, “Show me how much you want me.”

You knew what he meant. He wanted to hear his name on your lips as he fucked you with such desperation, as if to remind you that you were his. As if he was afraid to lose you. Maybe it was because he didn’t know when would be the next time he’d see you. Or perhaps he had a gut feeling that you’d leave him for some fancy dance company far away.

His blazing cerulean eyes bore into you, savoring every reaction that he could elicit from your body, as he covered your mouth and slammed his hips against your pussy mercilessly.

“Ah- fuck! Leon!” With each thrust, you screamed into his cupped hand in pleasure until your voice was hoarse, and you were positive that if anyone was in the hallway, they would hear the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin and muted cries.

It didn’t take long for your climax to hit again and you arched your back, crying out his name for a final time as your mind went blank and your body spasmed uncontrollably. His rhythm started to falter as he felt your cunt squeeze and milk him for all its worth. Beads of sweat trickled down his brow as he locked eyes with you, and you caught a glimpse of sadness in them, resulting in a similar pang to seep into your heart. He knew it would soon be over. 

Finishing off with a few more thrusts, he filled you deep with his hot cum, groaning your name and capturing your lips in another feverish kiss. With that, he collapsed on top of you in a heap, both of you panting heavily as you felt a pool of wetness on your face. Were those tears? Were they yours or his? You weren’t sure anymore.

After a moment of silence, you heard a faint whisper, “Please, don’t leave me.” You didn’t respond, but instead stroked his damp hair soothingly, placing a lingering kiss on his forehead as you closed your eyes and sighed.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The morning after, all that remained was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as Leon made his final preparations to head off. You avoided each other’s gaze as you shuffled around the house, placing the remaining items in his jeep. You used to laugh at the size of that monstrous car, but you had to eat your words when he drove you to both of your favorite secluded spots, where you would sit back together on its spacious hood with blankets and drinks, watching the starry night and city skyline in each other’s arms. So many memories, so little time.

Finally, it was time and you couldn’t ignore what was coming anymore.

“It’s getting late...” He could barely look at you and his eyes were brimming with melancholy. “I should go.”

He was still standing away from you at arm's length apart, afraid to touch you, in case he might change his mind. You couldn’t stand how permanent this goodbye felt, as if you knew innately that this would be the last you would see of him. There was no explanation to it, just pure, raw energy.

In a last ditch attempt, you blurted out, “I’ll call you.” You reached out to grab his hand. “There’s a dance company near Arklay, I could-”

He took his hand away as if he had been burnt. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice trembling as he choked on his words. “Just don’t play games with me.”

He could see through your empty promises and even though you had repeated the same lie over and over again to yourself that you would stay, it was obvious that your heart was captivated by the glittering city lights of a foreign country, and he couldn’t win you over. Not this time. He knew you would break up with him even before you saw it coming yourself.

“Leon, I-” you paused, hot tears streaming down your face as you met his blue eyes. You longed to profess how much you loved him and what he meant to you, but your emotions were caught in your throat. In the end, you could only manage a feeble, “I’m sorry.”

You saw the flicker of light in his eyes dim out as he glanced away. “Don’t be.” He turned towards his jeep and opened the door. “It’s just how life works out sometimes.” He shrugged dejectedly, as if resigned to his fate.

He climbed into the vehicle and turned on the engine, before facing you one last time. “Goodbye,” he called out softly.

With that, he closed the car door and drove off into the distance.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next day, you heard it on the news. Raccoon City would be destroyed due to a deadly viral outbreak. Within a day, the entire city of 100,000 civilians was gone, wiped off the face of the Earth. For the greater good. Your mouth twisted in distaste at the government’s decision as the glass of water you were holding slipped through your hand, shattering onto the floor.

There was an incessant ringing sound in your ear and you tasted metal on your tongue. Your whole body went numb as you kept your eyes peeled on the TV, your breath coming in short until you started hyperventilating. 

Leon? Dear god, Leon! Please let him be alive, you prayed to some unknown, higher entity.

Your parents had to hold you up and drag you away from the living room, shutting off the TV as they ushered you into your old bedroom to calm you down. There could be survivors, they said. And for some time, you had hope. 

As weeks passed and you heard nothing except stone cold silence, that hope began to diminish. You didn’t know how painful heartbreak was until you experienced it - the wrenching of skin, tearing of tissue, a crushing force against your organs. 

You were so foolish. You should have told him how you felt. Now you had nothing left except regret. Wishing that you could have turned back the clock and gone to a prestigious arts college near Springfield instead, just so you could have spent more time together. Wishing again, that you would have accepted his offer to live with him. And finally, wishing that you had convinced him to stay one more day, so he would be here, in front of you, still living.

You would have given everything up and more to have him back. But he was gone. And this time, it really was too late.

Grief has no bounds, and you couldn’t spend a second longer in the place where you grew up. Not if you wanted that very same grief to rip into you and consume you. So you did the one thing you knew how to do best. Run. Run away as far as you could to somewhere that wouldn’t remind you of the boy you shared all the good and bad times with. The boy you loved and lost.

As you packed your things with no plan of where you were headed to next, a strong gust of wind blew through the open window, causing a bunch of papers on your desk to scatter across the floor. And there you saw it. The long-forgotten card, with white text embossed on white background, serendipitously landing right in the middle of where you were standing.

TANZTHEATER SILJE VÖLKER

Staring at the card for a moment, you quickly picked it up, placing it securely into your handbag, next to the college graduation photo you and Leon had posed in together. Both of you were happy back then, with so much hope and dreams ahead of you. 

You shook your head, muttering to yourself, “Hey, loser.” 

If Leon was up there somewhere, please just let him hear this. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say I love you.”

Wiping away the tears that never ceased to fall these days, you took one final glance around the room, before turning on your heel and never looking back.

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

Happy Wednesday! I’m on spring break and blissfully alone at a cafe writing for a few hours this morning. The weather is just starting to turn nice (though its supposed to rain tomorrow) but I can feel spring coming properly, which makes me happy. I hope y’all are getting some nicer weather soon, too.

I’m plugging away on my new WIP. I previously mentioned I’m tentatively titling it Back and Back and Back. I also quite like Start at the End, though I’m not sure if that description will end up strictly accurate, so might not work. We shall see.

I’m going to go ahead and share the premise now (or rather, the inspiration) because why not? I was reading through @carryonprompts and found this one and quite liked the idea. I started daydreaming about it in earnest right away. This was the first thing I wrote:

Past

BAZ age 6, 2003

When I get home from school, Vera always makes me a snack. After that, I’m supposed to do my homework before I’m allowed to go outside and play. There’s always pages and pages of it, and it’s horrid, because it’s so easy, it makes me want to rip it to pieces, or hide it under my bed. And if I have to read one more book about Dick and Jane, I think I might scream. (I’ve read every one of the books in my Beatrix Potter collections. Doesn’t my teacher know that if I can read words like presently, I shouldn’t need to read these baby primers?)

Even though I could do this stuff in my sleep, it’s going to have to wait because today he is here.

Or at least, I think he is. I only saw a flash of red out beyond the trees, but that’s as good a sign as any. I don’t want to make him wait, because I don’t know how long he’ll have to visit today, so I have to plan my escape quite quickly.

I don’t imagine this holding too closely to the book/movie. I’m taking inspiration from parts I liked (and can remember 15 years later lol) but shaping this to be a Watford-era, canon divergent fic with some time traveling/soul mate/destiny elements. It feels very ambitious for me to try writing time travel because it hurts my brain to even consume time travel media sometimes 🤣 and I am much more of a pantser than a planner when I write. Then again, the prospect of pulling off this sort of challenge intrigues me. Wish me luck!

Tags/hello/hope you are well 😘

@fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @thewholelemon @cutestkilla @moodandmist @mooncello @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @valeffelees @shrekgogurt @iamamythologicalcreature @youarenevertooold @brilla-brilla-estrellita @forabeatofadrum @j-nipper-95 @larkral @leithillustration @messofthejess @captain-aralias @nightimedreamersworld @wellbelesbian @run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @theimpossibledemon @theearlgreymage @whogaveyoupermission @monbons @noblecorgi @emeryhall @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ileadacharmedlife @that-disabled-princess @blackberrysummerblog @prettygoododds @ic3-que3n @hushed-chorus @orange-peony @alexalexinii @angelsfalling16 @arthurkko @letraspal @supercutedinosaurs

[darkkitty1208]

on fic writing and fandom: where am i going forward?

So. It's a bloody dull Friday and I'm writing this post--have been meaning to, for a while--because I can't stop thinking about it. It's just a few (a lot, actually) thoughts I've had in my mind the past few days that I've decided to spill into a single post, which turned out far longer than it needed to be, but nothing too important. Under the cut.

I've been a fanfic writer for a while now. Not a long time by any means, but a while nonetheless. My first fic--which is now orphaned like a few of its brothers for undisclosed reasons, though if you're an og you might be able to guess why--was dated back to the 18th of November 2021. 3 years later and I've got a humble 89 works and counting (the orphaned works and unposted wips unincluded). I can safely say I've improved quite a lot since then.

Where are you going with this, then, Kitty? Surely you aren't here just to brag about your writing progress?

Well. Not exactly. But I'll start with this: I guess what I'm trying to say is I've lost the spark.

You know. The old feeling. That boost of serotonin you get after you finish a piece you're proud of, or when you get lovely reviews on ao3, or when you get a kudos email, or a new mutual, or some wild tags under your silly post. The spark. I haven't felt it in a long time, now. The last time it's been so palpable was... I'm not sure. Probably last year's October. That was a lot of fun. I was most prolific in fic writing, that year. It shouldn't feel like a long time ago. Because it wasn't.

Don't get me wrong. I love all this. All that's going on right now. The comments I'm getting--even if fewer than I had before--and all the other interactions, I appreciate and enjoy and love them so, so much. And writing my newer fic projects are well exciting. But it just isn't the same anymore. I'm afraid it never will be.

(Maybe it has something to do with the lack of interactions lately. Maybe? I don't really know, either. I'm sure we're all well aware the fandom is past its peak, and with the current developments in the MCU I am frankly unsurprised, but I dunno.)

I guess that's part of the reason I've been less active lately. I've been inactive as a whole this year, admittedly, and disappearing far too often for far too long (and I notice some of my friends are, too). I just didn't get the same joy from being in a fandom like I had when I first started this blog, or my ao3 account.

In hindsight, I've probably been a little too dependent on fandom to provide me serotonin. The past few years have been hard, the years before that, too. Life just keeps kicking me in the arse time and time again. I guess I've been using fandom and fic writing as a coping mechanism, and once I've had my fill, the joy dies off to something a little more dull. Like a gum I've been chewing for too long that the sweetness has since worn off.

Honestly? I don't want it to be this way. I want to live without being so dependent on my presence online. I want to live without only knowing joy through internet interactions. I've got to learn to. It sounds silly, but it's true. (I think I may be slightly chronically online, oh no. x'D)

So naturally my first instinct is to distance myself a little. I contemplated quitting, but I can't do that. I don't see myself ever doing that, no matter how many times my brain convinces me that I might.

When this year started, I had set some goals for writing. One of them was to write for more whumptober prompts than I did last year or complete them all. I did like 21 prompts or something last year. Of 31. Within a little more than a month. While still balancing all the life stuff I had going on. This is, if not obvious, an extremely ambitious goal. I am not insane. I don't know what I was thinking. I can't possibly do that now, can I? Not with all the stuff that's been happening.

...

Can I?

...

Yeah, no. Definitely not.

See, that's another thing: writing. Probably the thing I'm trying to get at in this post but otherwise derailed completely from. Fuck my brain.

I'm sure many of you have noticed that I've been writing significantly less. I still post, obviously, but not as much as like, last year when the number of works I had went from a few to far too much. That had helped me improve quite a lot, actually, but those days I barely slept because I just insisted to replace my sleep time with Writing Shit For The Gays. It was pretty unhealthy now that I look back at it. My sleep schedule is still shit now but, yk. Some things just never change.

I was really, really caught up on wanting to be good at writing. Like, really good. I wanted to make awesome things. I wanted to write like a real fucking pro. Like all the more popular fandom authors I look up to. I want to be like the big dogs in fandom. It sounds so silly. I did everything; sprinting daily, setting a minimum of 500 words writing sessions every day, trying new writing styles, churning out works after works, writing for prompts and events and gifts and the like. I was enjoying it, yes, but was it really something I did for myself? Or was it because I wanted to please other people or impress other people for their validation, which is something I'm entirely too dependent of? Was it for the numbers?

Well. It was more for that than for me, I realised a little too late.

So yeah. Fuck wanting to be good. I want to write for the hell of it. I want to write something that's for me. Not what the majority of the fandom or other people want to read, but for me. Which is why I absolutely loved writing works like just a matter of time, how to kill a god, or how to become a god, because they're not meant for other people but myself. (Ironically that last work is a gift but, yk. I still liked it.) I know I joke about self-projecting a lot, but it's been seriously helping me rediscover the joy of writing that doesn't come from the incessant need to be good or perfect or focus on producing more and more and more. It makes me feel like a kid again. Also, I'm only realising this now but I'd rather get like 5 people who enjoy reading my works so much and express them to me rather than 100 people who silently thumbs up at me and then go away to consume another fic or demand more. (All this to say I still love interactions, it just shouldn't be my no. 1 priority to get them when writing fanfics.)

But yeah. None of those works are perfect. They're not meant to be. But they're mine. They're me. They represent me. And it's so, so great to feel that in writing. I've been so stuck up on being some sort of content machine. I'm doing this for myself, how could I forget? I've been saying this since the beginning, I don't know why I'm still struggling to do it. God. It's ridiculous.

Anyway. That's that. This has become a very long ramble. Thank you for listening to my Ted Talk. And for letting me waste your time, if you make it to the end of this post.

[perpetualexistence]

Specter of Obsession: A g/t Alenoaheather AU

So, I recently read a fic by @kijosakka called breathe you in my lungs and make you mine. It has codependent and obsessive Alenoaheather in a way that's just peak writing and I'll recommend it to anyone who loves exploring the darker side of their blorbos:

It gave me so much brainrot that I managed to come up with my own spin on obsessive Alenoaheather. That involves giant/tiny. Because I couldn't help myself. I'm putting it under a read more for those who don't want to see more psychological fics/aus. But yeah, enjoy reading about Noah getting the attention of a much larger Heather and Alejandro, and having to deal with that!

So this AU's got the equivalent of wolfwalkers. Except instead of having a wolf that comes out of you while you sleep, you get a giant ghost. While in that ghost form they can't be seen by anyone except for others also in their ghost form. They can also be intangible at will. Let's call them specters.

How does one become/gain a specter?

There are three requirements:

Having an obsession

Acknowledging it as obsession

Choosing to pursue it rather than make peace with it

After that last point, one's obsession becomes simply too large for their human body to hold. So they manifest a specter that contains all of their most obsessive and possessive tendencies so their human body can be more at peace.

In the beginning, Heather and Alejandro only meet the first requirement. They're both obsessed with status, but thanks to their upbringing they just thought it was a part of life rather than an obsession they were pursuing.

When they meet and see each other as equals, they become obsessed with each other. As they're obsessed each of them was restless/felt like something was wrong/missing.

All they knew was that the only solution seemed to be growing even more obsessed, so they kept letting themselves do that.

The moment that solidifies their transformation is when they do confess that they're in love with each other.

For the average person, that might have been enough to satisfy their obsession since now they can be at peace with their love.

But not these two. They've fallen in just as much love with the chase, with their rivalry, as they have with each other. They're too ambitious and stubborn to let that obsession go. And now that they know for a fact that the other feels the same way?

It creates this positive feedback loop of obsession. That's the night each of them wakes up massive outside of their bodies the second they go to sleep. They're large enough to grab a person in wrap their hand around their entire body with little effort. They only have one instinct driving them that prevents them from completely freaking out at this new situation.

Find your love, and be with them always.

They're both keeping this hidden because specters are usually 'kill on sight' for humans due to how dangerous they can be. Which means they can't do anything too obvious…buuuuut that doesn't mean they can't find ways to cause havoc/ruin lives while keeping their size hidden. The two are drunk on power and very addicted to it and each other.

Along comes Noah, who they fully intended on just having him be another one of their victims to discard once they were bored of him. They start messing with him when they get back home from school and rest…but he's a lot more perceptive than they give him credit for. They see that he's not attributing a shattered lightbulb or an unfortunate incident of 'bad luck' as weird accidents. He starts looking around everywhere when it happens. He's looking up.

And that's absolutely exhilarating that someone is growing wise to their tricks. To have someone search desperately for them. They stop their other nightly schemes and immediately pour all of their focus onto toying with Noah. He constantly has large shadows looming over him but can never see their source. When he's inside, there's loud tapping at the windows, strong enough to shake the window frames. Noah can feel two separate gazes on him: one icy, one hot enough to make him sweat.

It's exhilarating, to know how much power they hold over him and yet don't use against him. They could do so much worse, and part of him wants to see them try. He can handle anything they have to throw at him.

Noah doesn't tell anyone about the two specters he suspects are stalking him. Instead he decides to investigate to figure out who they truly are. It leads Alejandro and Heather to follow him even when they're just human to see how close he's getting to them. He's not going to any authorities about this, and that's so very telling. He eventually gets to a point where he's bold enough to quip at them while they're invisible and large. He wants to know what they're after, and at this point he's run out of other ideas. Besides, the temptation to poke the sleeping lions to see what they'll do is too strong for him to resist forever

Everything stops. He's worried that acknowledging their existence might have been a step too far. This only gets confirmed when he feels something suddenly holding his arms and legs to his sides and is lifted high off the ground. The fear overtakes him as he desperately tries to struggle out of this iron grip.

Only to feel a large, soft wall suddenly press against his face. Hard. It feels like someone is attempting to suffocate him with the largest, warmest pillow they could find. Trying to breathe only invites the wall to press further against him.

He's suddenly freed of the wall, only to feel himself jostle as the other ghostwalker has now stolen him away to do the same thing. They do it for just as long before allowing him the chance to breathe.

He gets to take in a single gulp of air before suddenly he's being pressed from both sides. It's like two weighted blankets have decided to cocoon him in their embrace. He's given a chance to breathe before he's enveloped in their warmth again. And again. And again. The two specters only seem to get more violent, more desperate in their assault each time.

Until Noah lets out a genuine yelp of pain. The assault stops immediately. Only to return, much gentler this time.

It feels like it lasts an eternity. It feels like it's only been a few moments. Until finally, he's slowly lowered to the ground. The iron grip on him releases as he swears he can hear giggling and chuckling. He can feel the ground quake as the two of them decide to let their footsteps be felt, though neither is to be seen. Their footsteps fade away. Noah is left disheveled and shaking.

His only regret is that he'd been so shocked he hadn't even thought to kiss them back.

The pattern continues day after day. He never had to wait too long after school had ended before he'd be picked up and carried off somewhere more private. They always waited for him to be alone. He started intentionally seeking out places without people to lure them out faster. They'd tease him, bat him around, and kiss him.

Oh, how they'd always kiss him. Once one of them got started, it always turned into an aggressive assault until they were satisfied. Any attempt at struggle only encouraged them to kiss harder and faster. They loved feeling him squirm. They were spoiling him rotten with affection.

Oh how it made him crave more. He struggled on purpose to rile them up. Once their kisses got aggressive enough, he would sneak his own kisses back. There was no way to tell who he was kissing, or if they could even feel it. It encouraged him all the more.

They would always release him. Eventually. He'd return home and get some actual studying in before turning to bed.

Sometimes they would be cruel enough to drag him out of bed and out the window. They'd go for round two before allowing him to sleep.

They would even go for at least one more round. His only evidence of this would be dreams of pillows and waking up to an open window and things strewn about his room.

Those nights were the best sleep he could ever remember. He was desperate to hunt down his secret admirers. If only to satisfy his own curiosity. He was sure he was getting close, and he did have his suspicions about Alejandro and Heather. But he still didn't have anything concrete.

He couldn't let them know if he ever did find them out. There was no telling what they would do if they knew he was aware of their identity. He didn't want to risk them stopping.

Until the day the routine broke. He waited in an alley after school. Nothing. He went home, constantly checking for signs of them on his trip. Nothing. He studied, he went to bed, he faked being asleep. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

This could just be a one night event. They could just be drawing this out to make it all the more passionate the next night. Or maybe they could have just decided they were bored with him and would move on to the next person. It was the most ideal scenario. He'd finally have peace.

Except he didn't want them to stop. He wanted them to keep going.

No. He needed them to keep going.

My god.

He needed them.

Heather and Alejandro came back to school the next day exhausted. Neither had been able to get any rest thanks to their families. They'd pulled all-nighters, and worse, they hadn't been able to spend a moment of time with the ones they loved most.

When they saw each other during school, the first thing they did was run to a secluded part of the school to make out. Once they'd satisfied their pent up frustration, they went to go check in on Noah.

He wasn't in his regular spot. They went to ask Noah's friends, but none of them had seen or heard anything from Noah since yesterday.

Had they pushed Noah too far? Was he furious? Was he merely sick, or was something else at play? Was he taking their one day of reprieve to run, or try to get rid of them? He better not dare. He was THEIRS and they'd do whatever necessary to prove it.

A sense of foreboding washed over the two. They felt as if someone were observing their every move as if they were under a microscope. They went through the rest of the school day, though they could barely concentrate.

They practically burst out of school the second it was done. They gathered next to Alejandro's car. He'd made a habit of parking it farther away from the school in a secluded alley. It also meant he could get away with taking a quick nap in the car. He hated waiting to drive back home to mess with Noah. For now, it served the benefit of talking away from others.

They would go to sleep, grow, and separate so they could hunt Noah down as efficiently as possible. Alejandro put his key into the door while Heather began to turn away.

A sharp, warm breeze hit their faces the moment they exchanged their goodbyes. It was enough to cause pause. It was February.

Alejandro's car began to move away from him. The wheels were unmoving. It slid 10 feet away, almost gliding along the asphalt, before stopping.

Just as they were putting the puzzle pieces together, the two were suddenly shoved into each other. Hard. Their faces were pushed together for a forced kiss. The grip was so tight it was as if something were trying to force them to meld into each other as one.

Someone didn't like them separated.

Someone didn't like breaks in routine.

Someone was starving for the affection he'd been denied.

Noah didn't bother with starting off gentle. He kissed them both at the same time with the same intensity they usually reserved for the end of their sessions. He kept going over and over. It wasn't as if they couldn't handle it.

He slowed only when his misplaced fury was quelled. His kisses grew softer. It was the closest thing to an apology they'd get from him.

At the final kiss, he gently set them down next to Alejandro's car. He'd had his fun making them squirm both with his absence and under his gaze the entire day. It was well worth the blemish in his attendance record.

Though they couldn't see it, his manic grin matched their own as they looked up to where they suspected him to be.

"I expect you to return the favor tonight."

[sugarsnappeases]

hi karaaaaaa talk to me about any rare pair you feel like yapping about <3

aaaaaa hiii this made me so happy <333 i’ve decided it’s Time for us to have a proper chat about tomlily….. @quillkiller and i’s second-born child

the first thing you need to know is that they’re both sociopaths (sociopath lily oh how i looove youuu)..... i made this post before about the quote 'beautiful monsters composed of every individual perfection' and how it relates to lily, but i think it's interesting to consider in terms of her being a sociopath (this is actually how our first tomlily convo began, way back whenever it was). her making sure that every part of herself is viewed as perfect, carefully curating her public image - she's the miracle muggleborn! so smart, so kind, so helpful and friendly and every single good characteristic! a shoe-in for head girl, the perfect prefect, responsible and hard-working and everything that anyone could possibly want from her! and she's good at it too. everyone sees her exactly as she wants them too..... not unlike our good friend tom marvolo riddle when he was at hogwarts...........

i think one of the central parts of their relationship is the concept of immortality. they’re both kind of made up of the same sort of thing. they’re the same at their cores. both of them showed up at hogwarts as muggleborns thrust into a completely new world and they’re both so determined to succeed and be more than what they came from and to have absolutely everything, to have their cake and eat it too!!!!! for lily, this comes in the form of being revered, putting herself on a pedestal, she’s going to Leave Her Mark and be remembered and she doesn’t care what she has to do to get there (btw i really recommend this fic about sociopath lily, it’s so so interesting and i think nearly entirely encapsulates my vision of her……). the idea that if she can’t be immortalised in her deeds while she’s alive, she’s going to become immortal in her death, martyring herself. she’s a saint, she’s a puppet master, she’s as close to a god as a girl can get.

without. of course. resorting to actual immortality. which is the path tommy boy chooses. obviously. i think there are such parallels here. he’s a presumed-muggleborn, in slytherin, the house of the ambitious and the pureblood supremacists, he’s got the biggest god complex known to man and he grew up in an orphanage in london in the middle of the blitz!!!! all factors that contribute to his fear of death and his desperation to be More Than That. more than just another orphan killed by a bomb. more than just another nameless muggleborn lost in the pureblood-centric society. more than anything that anyone has ever seen before. he’s going to make a name for himself, and he’s going to make sure that nobody ever forgets it, and he’s going to be immortal. he’s going to be more god than man (even if it makes him a monster).

anyway. taking them together, as you can see, they’re cut from the same cloth (although side note!! i think lily’s lack of fear of death gives her the potential to be even more dangerous than tom is….) and bc of this, they’re the only ones who can see under each other’s carefully curated masks (although!! another side note… i think they each have another person who can - dumbledore for tom, and petunia for lily, but that’s not entirely relevant rn).

they understand each other and they want to cut each other open and burrow their way into each other’s rib cages. they kill people together - lily is much more messy w it, all blood under her nails and on her teeth. tom prefers the cleanliness of an avada kedavra but the blood gets all over his clothes anyway from when he touches lily. also cannibalism and intricate blood rituals that bind them together forever and intertwining themselves so thoroughly that nothing could ever separate them (although! another side note! jen and i don’t think they’re at all interested in sex. the other things they do (murder etc) are far more intimate and romantic and exciting to them!!!!).

and in the end, they’ll kill each other, pull each other apart and devour each other entirely. the only person who could possibly kill tom is lily, and vice versa, they’re the only ones that would have the right to, or the power to, or deserve to etc etc. at the end it’s always them, a ticking time-bomb. them and a knife or a gun or a curse or a fire and their teeth sinking into each other and their blood flowing through each other’s veins and over each other's dying bodies. bc tom is the only one that Sees lily and lily is the only one that Sees tom, and they recognise themselves in each other and it’s soul-deep and dangerous and nasty and hungry and knowing and self-destructive and so so so sooooo interesting to me

consider: two people w the most Pristine public reputations. they’re politicians or something w bright white smiles and absolutely No skeletons in the closet. it’s a Win for non-purebloods worldwide to see them succeeding, they’re exemplary students and people and Public Figures. EXCEPT!!!! as it turns out!!!! they’re fucking serial killers!!!!! i imagine them falling asleep in each other’s arms covered in blood from their latest victim, having their morning shower together, washing the blood out of each other’s hair and then going into the office….. they get caught. eventually. obviously. and it’s probs lily’s fault lol. but GOD guysss just imagine the scandal. the headlines. the shock and intrigue and horror at these two Perfect People having done such horrific things. they go on the run and/or commit a little bit of murder-suicide before they get caught btw. like i said nobody kills them but each other…. anyway enough from me!!!! thank you for letting me ramble <333

[wayfaringhoax]

Enigma

A Sequel to Riddles

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 11.5k+

Rating: Explicit. 18+ MDNI

Summary: No longer just friends with benefits, your relationship with Frankie is moving to the next level. Now that you’re an established couple, how will the two of you cope when your insecurities grow stronger?

This is the sequel to this fic. Please consider reading part one first, for the best possible reading experience.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, unprotected sex, edging, one use of a safeword, (1) time aftercare is forgotten, roleplay). Swearing, lots of angst, discussion of insecurities, unhealthy family/friend relationships, consumption of alcohol, references to drugs and addiction. 

Author’s Note: This baby is finally finished. Thank you to everyone who’s left feedback on Riddles, I appreciate you so much. The idea for this fic initially felt super ambitious, but I’m so happy I stuck with it, as I’m really proud of this. I hope you enjoy it!

To you, Francisco Morales was an enigma.

Whenever you thought you had this man figured out, he’d do something that would surprise you and make you realise that, perhaps, there was so much more beneath the surface left for you to uncover. 

Like right now, for instance, you were learning just how much he loved verbal praise. 

You’re dressed in a cute lavender lace set, having bought the lingerie just for him, and you’re spread out beneath him like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. Your eyes are daring him to take control, and you want him to know that you dolled yourself up for his pleasure. Though, the darkness clouding his irises suggests he knows just what you did, and that it’s all for him. 

But he needs to hear it. And you’re more than willing to lather it on thick for his enjoyment.

“Pretty.”, he huffs out as his fingers toy with the miniature satin bow on your panties. It’s situated right on top of your hip, teasing him, as he knows it’s the only thing holding the fabric together. It would be so easy. All it needs is a gentle tug and he’d have you bare, exposed and at his mercy. 

And Frankie knows exactly what awaits him underneath the lace: your soaked centre, leaking in anticipation. He also knows your little clit will be so swollen, peeking out from between your lips as it aches for stimulation. 

Frankie casts his scrutinising gaze to the tops of your inner thighs, and what he sees there confirms his suspicions. You’d made a mess of yourself. The way your juices are smeared over the most tender part of your thighs has his mouth feeling dry. But he wants to delay his gratification and tease you further.

Frankie pulls up on the bow, causing your panties to ride up and you let out a pitiful mewl at the way the fabric snags between your lips. The pressure is firm yet teasing, and you conclude that you’ll jump through all of this man’s hoops tonight; prepared to do whatever he asks of you. 

“Bonita…” he drawls. “What’s all this?

He’s referring to the lace adorning your body, and so you tell him with a naughty smile. “It’s my “fuck me all night long” outfit. Do you like it?”

“Hah.”, he chuckles dryly.

“Nice try, baby. I’m asking the questions right now.”

His no-nonsense tone has you soaking the expensive fabric between your legs, again, and you know he’s not going to ease up any time soon.

After he’s sure you’ve processed his words, he continues with another question.

“And who’s it for?”

“You, Frankie. It’s all for you, baby.”, you tell him, and the pitch of your voice assures him that you’re worked up enough to keep playing along.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, and you think he’s about to push his thumb past it, so you open up. But as your tongue peeks out, he pulls away. And you’re left feeling so untouched.

Then, he moves his wide hands down your body to splay across your thighs. Frankie squeezes and caresses the muscles there, allowing your juices to soak his fingers in the worst kind of way. 

The sound of your own whine brings you back down to earth, as Frankie pinches your skin, only millimeters away from your centre. You were drifting and he needed your full attention.

His eyes are hungry, but you also notice a hint of vulnerability in them too, and you realise that Frankie’s need for praise might run deeper than just a kink. 

“What’s all for me?”, says Frankie with a hint of mockery. “Tell me, baby. Tell me exactly what you did before I came over.”

You’re writhing, hands fisting the sheets as you concede. “I-I got all pretty for you. I did my hair. My nails. M-my make up just how you like. And I picked out this lace set, too.”

Your lover gives you a moment, knowing you have more to offer him.

“Frankie”, you purr. “I just wanted to look good for you. Make you feel good. Make you feel needed.”, and Frankie’s touched by the softness of your words. 

You move your right hand to cover his over your thigh, wanting to feel closer during such an intimate moment. You’d both gotten a lot better at communicating your needs, mostly when it came to sex, but you were still taking baby steps in the right direction, and that deserved commendation.

Pulling his hand up to lay across your stomach, you tell him with complete earnestness. “It’s all for you, baby.”

And something inside of Frankie shifts. He’s got a good momentum going, and he’d be a fool to let this moment go.

So, he pulls a little harder on the bow, causing it to unravel. Yet, he holds it in place before the fabric can slip from your skin. 

“Bonita.” he voices with assertion. “These don’t go anywhere until you tell me what you were thinking about, earlier. When you sent those messages.” And his next words are somewhere between a groan and a lighthearted laugh. “Such a minx.”

Even in the heat of the moment, when Frankie let his dominant side out to play, he couldn’t help but slip out of it sometimes. It’s just, you never failed to impress him. Especially with how playful you were. 

Frankie was glad he didn’t need to maintain an image around you. Even during sex, when you looked to him to take control of your body, he didn’t feel the pressure to play a part. He knew you just wanted him. And you didn’t expect him to sustain when something felt unnatural. 

You loved those little moments, when you were both so worked up, but a slight fumble would give way to the depth of your attachment.

Your voice is infected with a sweet giggle too, as you share. “I was thinking about your hands. In my hair. W-when you…”, and you’re unable to finish your thought as the sensation of being completely on display slows you slightly, and you suddenly feel quite shy. 

Frankie sees that, though, and he gives you some gentle encouragement.

“That’s good, baby. When what? You can tell me.”, he coaxes. And the pure amazement in his eyes reassures you that you’re not being judged; Frankie is safe.

So, you continue. “When you give me your cock.” 

And then at almost a whisper, you add. “In my mouth.”

“Good girl, cariño. That’s it.”, he says, before letting your panties fall from your body. 

And Frankie takes them out from under you like he’s won a prize.

Next, he turns to your bra. And you think you know what’s coming, having figured out the rules of the game you’re playing.

Much to his delight, Frankie finds another little satin bow at the centre of your bra. And, if this is anything like the one on your hip, it’s going to uncover another delectable treat when he tugs at it. 

“And what else? What else did you think about, baby?” he husks, as his wide palms smooth up and down your side, reminding you that there’s nowhere to run. 

And despite how that would’ve scared you in the past, you’re grateful for the way Frankie pushes you to be better. He needs you to be vocal, and he needs you to communicate. Wow, your therapist would be so proud of you right now.

“I-I thought about the wedding. Going to my cousin’s wedding, on your arm. I’d be dressed up, again, and I like… like the thought of everyone knowing it’s you who takes me home. Every night.”

“It’s-It’s your cock that sends me all dumb and d-desperate. I want everyone to know I’d do anything you ask of me.”

“Anything”, you tell him, emphasising the last word. Your pitch rises in reflection of how thirsty you are right now.

“Fuuucck.” groans Frankie. 

It was his fault, really. He’d egged you on, so he should’ve been prepared for you to say something purely sinful.

Regardless, he stays true to his word and swiftly removes your bra.

Diving head first into your chest, Frankie’s soft laughs send a comforting thrum through your body. “Shit, baby. I never know what’s next with you.” he says.

“You love it.”, comes your reply. “It keeps you on your toes.”

“Yeah, I do.” says Frankie with a fondness that warms your body and soul.

Then Frankie turns his attention to your neck whilst his hands push and pull at your breasts in a way that works you over just right. His grip is strong, but the way his lips skim the soft expanse of skin you’re offering up to him is anything but. You had to admit, Frankie’s touch was the perfect balance of rough and tender, and you loved it.

Nipping at the skin above your collarbone, he sighs. 

“This is the part where I ask for another dirty fantasy and then I remove your stockings. But they look so good on you … and I don’t know if I want to, really.” 

Putty in your hands, you think. And you seize the opportunity to fight back a little, as of course, Frankie still loved your moxie.

Right as he nibbles across your jaw, alternating between nips and soft kisses to inflict further torment, you let out a moan as you suggest. “Maybe you need to see them from a different angle. Then you can properly assess whether they’re necessary.”

And before you can admire his dry smirk, you’re on your tummy and he’s angling your hips up so that he can have the best possible view of those lilac stockings, made even sexier by the satin trim that connects each piece to your garter belt. 

And, well, he’s got you in this position purely for scientific purposes.

At least that’s what he tells himself, as one hand caresses the delicate mesh whilst the other rubs firm circles into the swell of your ass cheek.

Frankie knows you need to cum, but you’d told him earlier not to give in to you so soon, no matter how much you pleaded with him. 

“Well?”, you press. And Frankie shushes you, before moving his hand on your ass to dip between your slick folds, successfully quieting you down.

His thumbs draw teasing circles on your clit, first, then he pushes a finger into your pussy, and you can’t help but clench around it pathetically. 

Meanwhile, he’s sizing you up - under the pretense of assessing your thigh-highs - and you purr lavishly as he adds another finger, curling them in the way that you need it. 

“Huh.” he breathes out in faux nonchalance. And then he covers your body with his own fully clothed form, resting his head just below your ear.

“They can stay. Wanna see how they look on you whilst you ride me. These pretty legs spread out as your little pussy takes me. Feel the stretch as you sink down, and you’re gonna look so gorgeous; mouth open, cute little stockings. Shit- ” And he punctuates the last word by pushing his fingers even deeper into your cunt whilst letting out a taunting chuckle in your ear. 

He’s mocking you, respectfully, for how easy you get for him. 

But you love it. Love playing these games; decoding what you need to do or say to get what you need from him. 

“Frankie”, you whine. “Q-quit it with the teasing. Need you to fuck me.”

“Bonita…you need to cu-”, and you cut him off. 

“No!”, you assert, before realising that petulance rarely gets you what you want. “Wanna come on your cock. Please, honey. That’s what I need. Promise.”, you sigh out softly. 

And Frankie can’t deny you when you get like this. 

So, without further ado, he begins to undress, as you take it upon yourself to fluff your hair and swipe underneath your eyes to catch any smudged mascara. 

You know your man thinks you’re beautiful no matter what, but it’s more of a habit, really, and Frankie has to admit that he finds it endearing. It’s like you’ve just realised you went a little wild, and you’re trying to regain your poise. He guesses it’s a habit you’ve picked up from working in the corporate sector, where everyone’s expected to be nothing short of immaculate at all times. 

However, Frankie considers himself lucky, as he gets to see beyond the persona you give everyone else. Everyone, except for him. 

Finally wearing nothing but a look of pure need, Frankie pulls on your hips and you take the hint to straddle him. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this, you think as you get comfortable, but suddenly you remember that you’re missing something.

“Shit…almost forgot.”, you confess whilst reaching over to grab a condom from your drawer. 

You can sense your lover’s unease, however, which causes you to pause and scan his expression, and you’re at the point in your relationship now where you’re usually able to tell what’s bothering him.

And part of you does know what it is, even before he opens his mouth. His hands squeeze your hips - more for his benefit, than yours - as his eyes try their best to avoid you. 

“Babe”, you speak with soft conviction. Your finger underneath his chin, you coax his gaze to meet your own. “You don’t want to use one. Is that it?”

Despite the sudden tension that’s made itself at home in your bed, Frankie can’t help it. His admiration for you grows, as he notices that whilst you are quite worked up, you’re still able to snap out of it when something isn’t working. 

You’d never let him take advantage of you, and although he’d never dream of doing such a thing, he’s glad he’s got such a headstrong girl; a girl who stands for her boundaries and doesn’t budge.

He feels weak, for admitting it. But you’d been honest with him lately, so he owed it to you to do the same.

Looking up at you, he’s guarding something behind those brown eyes. “Shit… I will, if that’s what you want. Can’t help but think about it, though. What it’d be like.”

You’re met with a pause before he continues.

“I think about it all the time.”

You’re about to respond, but he’s not finished yet.

“Give it here”, he gestures to the foil packet currently in your grip. “We can talk about this another time. You can tell me what you think?, he says, and you melt at his concern for you.

Giving him a pointed look, you set him straight.

“You’re clean? Haven’t been with anyone else since we…?” and your voice trails off, unsure of the appropriate way to define your relationship. 

“I’m clean. And you should know there’s no one else. Have I not made that obvious?”, he asks, and you think, his expression is the equivalent of him folding his arms over his chest. 

What is he thinking? 

“Good” you affirm. “I’m clean too. And… there’s been no one else, for me. Just you.” The hint of a smile lights up your eyes, and Frankie feels a little calmer when he notices. 

But you like to tease. “Well, Francisco…” you purr.

“Sex without a condom is a boyfriend privilege. And… as of right now. I don’t seem to have a boyfriend.”

In any other context, your words would embed an ugly shard of insecurity in Frankie’s chest, but your teasing grin and wide eyes reassure him that it’s not like that now.

“What about the guy in your bed?”, he says as he joins in on the teasing. 

“Has he got what it takes to make the cut?”, his lazy grin causing the butterflies in your tummy to come out to play.

“I think so.” you reply.

Your words, coupled with the way you toss the package aside confidently, has Frankie pulling you down to his lips. And you can feel the smile that’s creeping in through his kiss. 

Not wanting to stop kissing you, Frankie lets each word slip into your mouth, and oh, it tastes divine. “Boyfriend privileges? What else does that include, baby?”

You choose this moment to finally sink down onto his cock. “Fuuucck…Frankie!” you cry out.

“D-don’t talk about that now. You want me to be able to think straight? And you straighten your back in a challenge to your boyfriend. 

“You sure you’re fucking me rig-”

But before you can finish the question, Frankie shoots up. 

You immediately find yourself on his lap, and you’re grasping at his broad shoulders for balance whilst he fucks up into your pussy with a force you haven’t quite seen before. Have you unlocked a new level of his possessive streak? 

And after you’re both sated and significantly less dazed, you each mull over your new titles. 

Girlfriend.

Boyfriend.

For some reason, those two words manage to curb some of the anxiety that lives rent-free in Frankie’s body. 

And for you, they give you a much-needed push to open yourself up further to this man. 

The titles give you both a sense of security and as he looks down at your cheek smushed against his chest; the soft sounds of your exhaustion reverberating through his whole body, Frankie’s hoping it will stop him from feeling like he’ll never catch up to you.

***

“So … you actually did fuck each other? After I suggested it … As a joke?”

The look on Benny’s face right now is priceless. He’s shocked, of course, and really, he didn’t think you had it in you. But, as he sets his pensive gaze on the two of you, he begins to recognise a new emotion on your faces. One he hopes won’t lead to heartbreak.

An amber glow emanates from the firepit you’re all gathered around, yet it does little to resist the darkness of the evening as it seeps in, offering you shelter from the prying eyes and minds that surround you. 

Will, Benny and Santi have eyes on you, but they’re not close enough to scrutinise your facial expression, or Frankie’s, for that matter. 

To them, it’s all fragmented. Secret smiles, your arms brushing up against each other, feet intertwined on the patio…

They see pieces. They’ll never appreciate the complete picture. For you two make an intricate puzzle and you wouldn’t quite know how to justify your relationship to those outside of it. It’s like they’re missing a vital piece; a piece that only you two possess. They’ll never get anywhere if they try to understand you, and you know that. You don’t care, to be honest.

All you need from the three men sitting opposite from you is acceptance, trust and respect. 

And judging by the mix of satisfied grins and approving nods that greets you, you’re 99% sure that you’ve at least got their acknowledgement. 

Frankie coughs. A slightly embarrassed, yet proud cough, in response to Benny’s question.

“And…”, implores Benny. “You’ve been doing it…ever since?

You nod on behalf of the both of you, before cutting in.

“Benny. Does it really matter how it happened? I’m sure you don’t wanna hear it, really?

“I-” and you have to correct yourself. ‘We just wanted to tell you. We’re not going to shove it down your throats. Hopefully things won’t change drastically. I mean, we’ve been keeping to ourselves this whole time.”

A tremor of apprehension makes its way through Frankie’s body as you settle back into your seat. He can’t help but feel uneasy, as you were so quick to trivialise your relationship. And Frankie’s hit with the realisation that, unfortunately, he’ll never be able to read your mind.

But then you say the magic word.

“Frankie’s my boyfriend. Hopefully that’ll seem more natural as time passes.”

And he’s back to feeling like a golden retriever fawning for your attention. Except now, that nine letter word sets him apart. It means he’s special. He’s the one you chose to take home with you; chose to keep. 

Then Will turns to Frankie. “Fish?” he says.

Frankie sighs out a “Yeah”, and you notice how everyone appears to be waiting for him to elaborate.

“Shit.” he says, running his wide palm over his jaw. “I’m happy…yeah. It’s a good thing…for us.” 

Frankie didn’t need to go into too much detail. No, he didn’t want to. Because he feared that if he opened himself - yourselves - up to others, too much, he would manifest trouble in your future. Truthfully, Frankie was concerned that every new person who knew about it, threatened to unravel all the groundwork he’d laid with you. 

They threatened to unravel the way you’d loosely tied the ribbons of your heart around his. 

And you’d both come a long way to get where you are now. 

“Well, I’m happy for you both.”, says Santi. 

You turn to your pseudo brothers, Benny and Will. 

Will, however, is the one you’re aching to hear from, as you know he’s the toughest crowd. But it’s Benny who speaks first.

“Yeah, well… I’d be an idiot to shit on something I encouraged. He lets out a weak laugh before he continues. “Good for you. And I mean that.” he says.

Frankie looks to you, as to say, this is going well. But you know Will. And he’s not that easily convinced.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of having you plead for his approval, so you play with your perfectly manicured nails to seem cool and unbothered, yet you know he’ll see right through it.

After a humbling silence, Will speaks on the matter. “Sure.” he huffs out. 

“Whatever makes you happy.” 

And as he says those words, he’s looking right at you. Not Frankie. “If that’s Fish… well it is what it is.”

Will knows that to anyone else, it would seem as though he approves of you and Frankie. But he also knows he’ll need to do more to placate you. 

So, he leans forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees whilst he joins his hands underneath his chin, and he says. “I trust you. Both of you.”, softening his gaze just enough to remind you of the way this man loves you like you’re of the same blood. 

And it’s enough for you. 

For now.

Sure, Frankie’s a good friend of Will’s. He had to have been, considering everything they’ve endured together. But Frankie knows that this interaction between you and Will was significantly more important than any conversation he could’ve had with the eldest Miller. The stakes were higher, and he was content to let you handle it the way you saw fit.

And handle it, you did. Well, according to Frankie, anyway.

However, you had your doubts. And despite the fact that you were learning to welcome love, success and happiness, rather than run from them, your self-sabotaging tendencies weren’t completely dormant. 

A part of you wanted to throw Frankie to the wolves. If you remove yourself from the environment, what would the others say? 

Would they turn him against you? Scare him off?

Would they see right through you? See you as a burden. A stain on the goodness of their friend’s soul?

Irrational as your thoughts were, you can’t help yourself from fanning the flames. So you stand up and address the others.

“I’m gonna head home.” you tell them, giving each man a reassuring smile before continuing. 

“I’ll see you boys soon-”, you begin, yet Benny interrupts.

“Hold on. I’ll join you. Alright if I catch a lift?” he says.

You accept, and before you leave, you shoot Frankie a look that says it’s down to you now. 

Frankie’s now alone with the remaining two men, and judging by Will's demeanour, he’s got the feeling that the pleasantries left with you out the door.

Santi figures he should give them a moment alone, so he heads inside to clear up some of the mess.

And then there were two.

Frankie’s the first to break the ice, whilst Will surveys him with imposing precision. 

“Look…I know this complicates things. But you don’t need to worry about-”

“Bullshit.” Will cuts in. Unable to restrain his disquietude for a second more.

Frankie darts his eyes away from his friend and waits. He knows Will isn’t finished. He knows the best thing he can do is just sit tight and get it over with. The sooner Will gets it out of his system, the sooner he can be back in your arms. 

“I’m not mad. I’m concerned. About both of you.”  Will softens his tone for his last sentence. 

He resumes. “I love that woman. Benny does too, she’s family…I know you of all people know what that’s like.”

Frankie gives him a curt nod.

“But that also means I know her. And I know what she’s like. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt, all because you couldn’t get a read on her. Some kind of miscommunication. Sound familiar?, he asks.

But Will’s style of articulation isn’t quite doing it for Frankie, so he tells his friend, “I’d appreciate it if you cut the shit. Just say what you have to say”.

The quiet that follows is loaded with friction.

That is until Will speaks candidly. “You want to know what I really think, huh?” and Frankie can’t say for sure that he does want to hear it.

“I think she’ll chew you up and spit you out. Just like she did to the others before you.”

A pause lingers before Will continues. “Is that what you want?” 

Frankie’s too exhausted, and too wired to give him an answer. Instead he just stares blankly ahead at his companion. 

But Will knows you. Better than he knows you, and so Frankie would be a fool not to probe further for more of an insight into your mystery.

Frankie grunts. “Go on…” 

And Will decides he needs to choose his next words carefully. 

“It’s just- the way she interprets certain actions. The way she responds to them. It’s not always clear what she’s feeling. Sometimes it’s like she’s got it all together. Knows what she wants. What she’s doing. But other times she doesn’t know, she runs away with things until she’s somehow convinced herself she’s the problem. Or she doesn’t deserve to be happy. And that can be tough. For her… and for you. Are you prepared for that?”

Honestly, Frankie doesn’t know what to say to that. Though apparently, he doesn’t need to say anything as Will’s not finished yet.

“Slightly orange-looking flags will always appear red, to her. And even the green flags have spooked her before. She’ll say something about it being too good to be true, before she dips. I’ve never known anyone to overthink so much when in a relationship.” he tells him.

And Frankie thinks, well you’ve never known me, in that way. As he’s done his fair share of overthinking since you two of you got involved.

After Frankie absorbs his friend’s words, he speaks out.

“I won’t hurt her, if that’s what you’re worried about. And if she hurts me, then that’s on me. I’ll accept that.”

“I’m not blind.” Frankie adds. “I’ve seen more than you probably imagined. But I’m not running from her.”

Will drops his shoulders in frustration. 

“Seriously…” says Frankie. “Why are you telling me this shit? Or do you do this with every boyfriend?” and the hint of venom in Frankie’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed by the other man. 

And Will’s next words hit differently. “Hey man, I didn’t want to bring up your history. But you’re the one who asked. She’s a lot. She’s fucking incredible. But maybe you oughta slow down. Too much can be dangerous. You know that more than anyone.”

In that moment, Frankie swears he can feel his heart clawing its way out of his chest. 

His temperament seeps through his voice, as Frankie speaks louder this time. “I do, huh?” he chuckles sardonically. “Because I’m a junkie, right?” 

All is quiet as the two men come to terms with what’s been said.

Then, when the air feels breathable again, Frankie sees himself out. 

And as he drives home, a new worry finds a home in his head. Like a migraine, it demands all of his attention - at once - causing his grip on the wheel to falter as it consumes every ounce of his energy. 

Is he moving too fast? 

Should he slow down? 

In reality, his car’s moving at a sensible speed, but he can’t shake the thought that he’s heading for a crash.

That’s always the outcome when it’s too much, too soon. Right?

***

It was two days later when Frankie’s insecurities came to fruition.

Yes. Two days are all he manages before he crashes.

The two of you were having fun. Lots of fun, to be exact, as you indulged in a little stress relief. You on all fours, arching up into his rough love. Frankie, drowning in your allure as he fights to reach as deep as physically possible. Never satisfied when it comes to you. There will always be more to uncover.

It was an accident. He swears, he’s only trying to amplify your pleasure - wind you up that bit tighter to heighten your eventual release. But he misjudges the situation, and he lets his need for validation overcome him. 

His words take on a life of their own, spinning out of his control before he can rein them back in.

“Tell me, cariño…tell me how much you love this cock.”

“Tell me…fuck. Tell me that you don’t ever want anyone else.”

“Tell me that this is all you need.”

“Need you to tell me that you won’t run from it. Tell me you’ll stay right here. In my bed. Wrapped around me…always.”

“Say you won’t ever leave this. Not when it makes you feel this fucking good.” 

The last one is what does it, setting off the alarm bells in your head, and your body feels it too. 

You lift your head from the fluffy pillow and force the words out. “Baby…yellow.” 

And you say it much softer this time. “Yellow. Slow down.”

Frankie pulls out of you immediately. But unlike the other times you invoked the traffic light system, he makes no move to comfort you.

There are no coos. No scooping you up in his arms. No fucking communication at all from his end. What’s gotten into him?

Frankie draws back from you, and when you manage to pull yourself up, he’s got his back to you. Avoidant. Defensive. And you saw how this ended, last time. When he quietly seethed in a turmoil you couldn’t fully understand.

“Frankie…” you call out to him. 

For a moment, you think he’s about to move closer, until he begins to dress himself. Bowing his head the whole time, sulking like a child who’s been sent to bed early. 

He’s soon dressed in a pair of loose shorts and a light grey sweatshirt. And of course, he doesn’t forget his cap. God forbid he should fight you without it; it’s part of his armour. 

You can’t help but raise your voice. “Francisco. Look at me!” you demand.

You need him to let you in, otherwise, this feeling of rejection runs the risk of breaking you apart in the worst way possible.

And he does look at you. And you hope this is progress. That is until you repeat those dreaded two words.

“Frankie… what is it, baby? All I asked was that we slow down?”

There it is. 

Except it wasn’t Will who said it this time. It was you. 

And Frankie can’t look away. His chest lurches with the need to challenge you. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, really. His words. His actions. They’re crawling out from this feeling that he’s seduced himself with a version of you that doesn’t exist yet.

One look at your face tells him all he needs to know. He’s hurt you. And he can’t even offer you an explanation as to why. 

Still, those words run through Frankie’s head. He feels dizzy; like he’s losing his footing.

Slow down.

Meanwhile, you’re torn between wanting to throttle him and wanting to wrap him up in your embrace , where he can’t hurt himself - or you - anymore.

Somehow, you stand your ground. 

“Baby…” you coo gently, afraid to push him even further towards his edge. “Talk to me. Please?” 

You’re pleading with your eyes, hoping he’ll come back to you, and you can support him with whatever he’s battling right now.

Frankie remains silent, so you push a little more. “Did you not want to slow down? Was that it? We can ta-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, however, as Frankie interrupts. 

“Fuck! Stop saying that. Stop fucking repeating it! I heard you loud and clear.”

It takes you a minute to adjust to the aggression in his tone. The way he practically snarled out those last few words. You’re baffled. What’s wrong with him?

Why is he speaking to you like that?

And your introspection soon turns to anger.

How dare he speak to you like that?

But fortunately, you’re able to push that particular emotion aside, for now. You understand that he’s hurting, and all you want to do is make it better.

You both take advantage of the silence that follows to cool off.

Frankie’s the first to make a move, as he walks out of the bedroom. Your calls of his name go straight over his head, though you’re not prepared to give up that easy.

So you hastily pull on your robe and follow him into his kitchen, where he’s already making a grab for his shoes.

“Frankie! Where the fuck do you think you’re going? We need to talk about this.” you beg, desperation creeping through each syllable. 

“Out. I need a minute.” he tells you.

“We can take as long as you need, baby. I can make some tea? We-”

He cuts you off, again. 

“A minute alone.”

You find yourself giving up, then, and as you sit up on the counter, you admit defeat. 

The last thing Frankie sees before he leaves is the casualty of his insecurities. You. Slumped back against the cabinets, chewing on your nails, all your efforts exhausted.

***

You didn’t hang around. You didn’t bother calling him. 

You figured he needed some time to cool off before he came to grovel.

And, yes. You expect him to do some serious groveling after what happened. 

You’re getting it all out of your system whilst in the company of your good friends. Cami’s topping up your glass of rosé, quite generously, as you reach forward to nab the tub of Ben & Jerry’s from Hannah. 

Realising you need a spoon, you look to the youngest of the two, hoping she’ll take pity on you. 

Pouting at her seems to work, however, as Hannah heads to the kitchen to grab you one. The volume of her voice fluctuates, and you imagine she’s probably moving around the room whilst she speaks to you.

“So you’re gonna make him sweat, right?” she calls out to you.

That’s not exactly a symptom of a healthy relationship, you think. But a little girly sleepover gossip never hurt anyone. Besides, healthy is a work in progress, and you’re doing pretty well so far. Baby steps are good.

“I don’t even know what happened,” you tell them. “It was like I said something unforgivable. He just backed off, immediately, and shut down. He wouldn’t even try to explain! How was I supposed to know what he was thinking?” 

“And all you said was slow down?” Cami says, seeking confirmation.

“Yep” you reply, popping the p for extra emphasis.

She looks back at you, and you can see that she’s thinking hard about it. Cami’s about to say something when Hannah returns with your spoon.

She gives you a second to scoop a healthy amount of ice-cream into your mouth, knowing you need it, before continuing. 

“Here’s what he’s gonna do.” says Cami, and the way she waves her hands around reflects how she means business right now.

“And you’re not gonna accept anything less. First and foremost…an apology. It’s gotta be sincere, and he’s gotta look you in the eyes. Then, an explanation as to why he left without talking to you first. Oh… and flowers and chocolates are non negotiable. I swear to God. If he shows up empty handed the next time you see him, I’m kicking his ass.”

You laugh at that, glad to feel an emotion other than despair.

“I feel for him, I really do.” says Hannah. 

You cast your gaze over to her.

“Clearly, he cares about you… a lot. I don’t think he knows how to handle it yet.”

Softening your stare, you allow yourself to consider the implications of her words.

“Have you two said I love you yet?” she asks. You shake your head.

“And who made the move to make it official?” 

“I did.”

“But you said he’d been pushing for more before that, right?”

Again, you nod. Feeling as though it would be pointless to speak. Clearly, you were about to be schooled on how to handle your emotions. 

“Huh…” she lets out, eyes looking up to the ceiling in some serious contemplation. “Well… what I think is that he’s waiting on you to make all the major moves. And he’s driving himself crazy in the meantime, wondering what you’re thinking.”

“Well I shouldn’t have to spend all my time validating him, I don’t always know what I want right away, unlike some peopl-” you defend, before Hannah jumps in.

“Baaabe.” she groans. “I know that, he’s a grown ass man. But… maybe he needs a little more from you. You need to validate your partner to encourage them to trust you, and it seems like you two could work on that.” 

She’s got you. And you hate it.

“Look… I’m not making any excuses for his behaviour. The man needs to grovel, we all know that. But perhaps you could try to meet him halfway? Reassure him more often? Then maybe it’ll stop him from freaking out when things trigger his concerns?”

All you can do is nod your head in appreciation. Wow. You knew there was a reason these girls were your best friends.

“Yeah” you sigh. “I guess I can try that.”

Cami claps her hands together, snapping you out of your Frankie-fuelled daze.

“C’mon,” she tells you, picking up the TV remote. “It can wait until tomorrow. Keanu Reeves is waiting on us.”

***

Staying true to your typical style of fighting, you wait for Frankie to text you first. 

And he didn’t keep you waiting long, making his first contact approximately thirteen hours after he stormed out of his own apartment.

Can we talk? I shouldn’t have left like that.

Truthfully, you weren’t expecting an apology over text. That wasn’t your style, and it wasn’t Frankie’s either. 

He knew it needed to come when he was with you. When he’d be unable to hide how he’s really feeling.

He used to hate the way his face and body would betray him, but now he’s grateful, as it gives you the chance to see him unguarded. The two of you have been doing a lot of work to improve your communication, and part of it consisted of allowing the other person to see you at your most vulnerable. 

As terrifying as it sounded, Frankie knew it was a necessary step. 

And of course, you have come a long way already. He’d noticed that you’d been making an effort to vocalise your concerns, your needs and your hopes to him. So, it was only fair that Frankie took the leap too. 

Fuck, he thinks, remembering how he’d done the exact opposite the night before. Healing doesn’t happen in a straight line, right?

You’d given it four hours or so before you replied to his message.

I’d like that. Meet me at Lazy Joe’s after work? 6pm? Leave the hat at home, this time. x

And Frankie had smiled at that, before letting you know he’d be there.

Now, as you watch him make his way to where you’re sat - a corner booth that afforded the perfect level of privacy, intimate but not intimate enough to make you forget you’re in public, you take a good look at the man you now call boyfriend. 

He looks like home, is all you can think. Plaid flannel framing his broad shoulders as it rests on top of his signature jersey t-shirt, hair slightly curlier than usual. He must’ve washed it. 

You have to keep from drooling at the thought of having it back under the palms of your hands. 

He’s got his sleeves rolled up slightly, and if that wasn’t enough to send you, you see he’s also chewing gum…leisurely. The movement of his jaw accentuating every strong contour of his visage.

Shit…

Why couldn’t he have tamed his sex appeal for your benefit? It’s going to be even harder to stick to your guns at this rate.

He’s in front of you now, and he places something on the table before leaning down to land a kiss on your cheek, and it’s just below your eye. He knows what he’s doing.

It appears he’s left the hat at home, as per your request, winning him brownie points, already.

It’s not that you don’t like when he wears it. You do, honestly. You love the way it looks on him. But that’s not all it does. 

You’re well aware that Frankie’s uses the hat as some kind of comfort blanket. And frankly, it’s not getting you anywhere. What you don’t need is Frankie retreating back into his seat, tipping his hat forward to conceal his expression, every time you have a serious conversation about your emotions. 

If you were going to confront your feelings like a mature adult, then the hat had to stay home.

Hazarding a glance at the items on the table, you notice he has indeed brought you flowers. And are those … pistachio profiteroles…from your favourite Italian deli? The one that’s over an hour’s drive from your place?

Definitely better than a box of store-bought chocolate.

Somehow, Frankie manages to catch the way your shoulders loosen up ever so slightly at the sight. And he figures, that’s his way in.

He gestures towards his gifts - dessert and snow-white roses - as he speaks.

“I know I’ve been an asshole. So I won’t try to steal one, this time.”

You want to smile, but in true ice-queen fashion, you steel your poker face. 

Not wanting to endure any awkward bar small talk, you’d bought him a drink just before it hit 6pm. You slide the bottle of beer over to him, and he’s quick to take a swig before you see him visibly relax. 

That’s better.

“Comfortable, are we?” you ask him, and you can’t help the sarcasm that slips out.

“Don’t do that.” he tells you sternly. “Don’t downplay our relationship. You’re acting like you’ve got somewhere better to be.” 

He’s not playing around, it seems. His brown orbs have you feeling somewhat targeted. 

But it feels healthy. He’s called you out on your bullshit before you could slip into your old ways. 

He’s looking out for you.

You figure it’s your time to apologise. “Sorry, Frankie. I shouldn’t be acting like that. Thank you for the gifts…that was sweet of you.” you say, and you almost look bashful. 

“Fuck, baby…” he groans. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. I’m the one who should be apologising, here.”

There’s a look of timid hope on your face, in response to his admission. 

You give him an encouraging smile, before letting him know, “Okay, I’m listening.” 

Frankie’s eyes meet yours. There’s nowhere for him to run.

Eye contact, dessert, flowers…Cami would approve of everything so far.

He lets out a rough cough, before he begins. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you like that. I should’ve stayed and we could’ve talked about it. Never should’ve left you after …” 

He’s afraid to finish that sentence. Ashamed, even. 

But you finish it for him. “After I used a safe-word?” 

Frankie bites his lip aggressively, before repeating, “After you used a safe-word.”

Dragging his hand down his face in a show of self-loathing, he tells you. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” 

You sense there’s much more to it, so you wait patiently. 

And more does come…

“I wanted to explain myself but you wouldn’t understand-”

“How could you possibly know that, Frankie? Try me. If I can’t understand, I’ll still respect you. Your thoughts and feelings. All of it.” you counter.

Frankie’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks to you like you hold the missing piece of the puzzle. Frankie has never wanted anything so bad in his life, as much as he wants to give you everything in this very moment. 

But he needs to give you words. Tangible, honest, and raw words that you can digest.

It’s healthy.

“Will said some shit.” he tells you. And you feel yourself getting worked up, but for Frankie’s sake, you contain the urge. Of course Will said something. 

But what did you expect? Leaving him there alone for the first time, as your boyfriend?

“Said I should slow down” he elaborates. “And I felt insecure, again. When you told me to-”

“To slow down?” you question. 

Frankie shakes his head apologetically. “You couldn’t have known. I shouldn’t have let it get to me like that.” 

Were you ever going to learn? Clearly, you’re both suckers for a pattern, and that pattern is miscommunication. 

The two of you had become experts in it. Jealousy. Perceiving rejection. Allowing other people’s words to influence you. Assumptions. Failure to discuss the future. All these things had resulted in conflict. If only you had gotten there first and communicated with your partner…would things have played out differently? 

You needed to break the cycle, as all this fighting and crying was incredibly exhausting. 

“Baby…if you had told me about Will. I could’ve told you he does this every time, with every guy. It’s some kind of overprotective bullshit that he spins so he can feel like a hero again. Trust me, I’ve seen - and heard - it all before.” you say.

And you’re greeted with Frankie’s dry laughter, as he realises that perhaps, talking to you before he let Will’s words consume him would’ve been a better idea.

Even you can’t help but laugh, too, as you process the irony of the situation.

Frankie looks up at you in submission. He knows you’re right.

Hopeful, you decide to press him further. “I’d like it if you told me how you feel.” you say, and he can’t hide the look of apprehension that weathers his face.

“You don’t have to be afraid…you don’t need to hide from me. I’m not gonna judge you for any of it.” you reassure.

When Frankie sees you reach for him, he extends his arm to you, and you caress his forearm in an attempt to coax him out of his cage.

His free hand covers yours over his tanned skin. “How I feel about…?” he questions.

“Me.” you assert with gentle conviction. 

Here we go. 

“Bonita…I can’t stay away from you. But also… “ his voice trails off. “I don’t always like who I am when I’m around you.”

Your heart sinks. Although part of you was expecting him to say something like that, it didn’t sting any less.

“Frankie?” 

“Fuck, baby. You said you wanted honesty.” he says.

“I did.” you reaffirm softly, taking it in your stride. This is what you wanted, after all.

“What is it? When you’re with me?” you question.

Frankie takes a breath before speaking. “I feel out of control. Can never get a read on you…what you’re thinking. Feels like I’m trying to solve an impossible puzzle.”

Your voice is strained. “Puzzle? … What do you mean?” 

“What you want. What you feel. It’s all a puzzle, to me.” he tells you.

“Frankie” you sigh. “I-”

“And…when I feel like you’re slipping away. I get-” he pauses. 

“Reckless… I say stupid shit and fuck everything up.” 

You’re well and truly stunned. You weren’t expecting Frankie to open up to this extent. But you’re welcoming it like summer rain after weeks of oppressive heat. 

But you’re not innocent in all of this. 

“Frankie, It’s not all on you. I should’ve told you how I was feeling. I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark like that, and for that, I’m sorry.” you concede. 

Frankie accepts your apology with a squeeze of your hand.

“Honey, I-” you begin. “You can’t wait for me to make the first move every time. You should be able to express how you feel without worrying whether I’m at the same point as you. It’s too much pressure for you, and for me.” 

“Even if I’m not there with you. I’d never judge the way you’re feeling.” you tell him. 

“I hope you know that.”

Of course he doesn’t know that. You never gave him reason to believe it. But like your therapist always tells you, you gotta keep moving forward. The past can seem like a void of unresolved emotion, and if you linger there too long, you’ll leave parts of yourself behind. 

And, perhaps, it’s not as daunting as it seems, Frankie thinks. Going at his own pace. 

“I don’t know about the timing…” he says. 

“I think you already know it, but I, uh…” 

“Know what?” you question.

“You must know that I love you.” he confesses. 

There are no fireworks. No kiss in the rain, or a song playing outside a bedroom window. Rather, he’s given you what you wanted: raw words that you can digest. And they were spoken on his terms. Result.

“Frankie.” you breathe out.

He jumps in, though his body language shows no urgency. Frankie’s surprisingly content to simmer in this feeling for a while. 

“Cariño, you don’t need to say anything. This is on my terms, alright? You say it when you’re ready.” 

“Yes.” you reply. Confident that it will come soon, though you don’t plan on rushing anything. It’s not your style. 

In that moment, you notice that the air feels lighter, and the hand grasping Frankie’s forearm isn’t so tense anymore. 

“Yes?” he teases. “What are you saying yes to, baby?” 

“You.” is your reply. 

And shit, that’s all the reassurance he needs right now. 

“How about I take you out on Saturday?” he asks, and the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip reminds you that you could never resist him, especially when he looks like that. 

“Sure,” you tell him, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. 

“But you better not fuck this up, Francisco. When we’re in public, you’re gonna have to work even harder to earn my kisses.” 

Frankie grins at that. And it’s a real smile, the kind that reaches the eyes, letting everyone know that it’s true. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

Those three little words will surface when they’re ready, you reminded yourself; lost in thought as you stared at the open webpage on your MacBook. 

You had wanted to do something special for Frankie, so you had been thinking about ways to bring one of his many fantasies to life.

I’ve got just the idea, you thought, as you reflected on something he’d told you a few weeks prior. 

“Baby-” he’d said, unable to hide his amusement. “I wasn’t that kind of pilot. I never did the whole “good morning ladies and gentlemen”. It was the fucking military.”

“I know that!” you replied, smacking his shoulder as he mocked you. 

“But you’re telling me that you never had a dirty fantasy of an air hostess, or a co-pilot even, going down on you in the cockpit? Or sneaking into the bathroom to f-” 

Frankie covered your mouth with his hand, figuring you’d teased him enough at that point.

“Bonita…” he’d drawled. “I didn’t say that. Stop putting your filthy words in my mouth.”

You’d given him a pointed look. “So…?” 

Frankie’s lips found refuge in your hair, and he almost seemed shy as he spoke again. “Of course I thought about it. All we could fucking do during those days was think about sex. I- I had a lot of time to think.” 

You wanted to know more. Raising yourself up on his chest, you pushed him further. 

“Francisco… you can’t leave it like that. Tell me more. What about one time in particular that you really thought about it?” 

“I don’t know…” he huffed. 

“Bullshit.” you called. “You wouldn’t have been able to help yourself.” And Frankie was warmed by your fiery tone.

“Well, perhaps…when an op would go well, and we’d meet our targets. I thought about having someone reward me. Didn’t have to be an air hostess, but I liked the thought of it being a woman in heels. Stockings…Red lips…tight dress.“ he told you, cheeks flushing at the thoughts he’d kept private for so long.

Fuck that sounded hot. “And she’d steal your pilot’s hat? Wear it on her head as she put your cock in her-” 

Again, Frankie had smushed your words with his hand in a playful manner. “Bonita! What did I tell you, huh? It’s not the kind of hat you’re thinking of. Come on…” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that. Yes, you knew that, but a little artistic license was permitted if it made the fantasy even sexier.

Weeks later, as you thought back to Frankie’s words, you knew what you needed. Heels, stockings, red lips, tight dress, and a cheesy pilot’s hat for good measure. 

You listed off the items in your head as you began typing in the search bar with a determination that would rival a professional athlete’s. A few clicks of “add to basket” later, and you figured you had all the necessary weapons to knock this man off his feet. 

Now, as you look up at your Frankie, whilst dressed to the nines in your new purchases, you know you’ve made the right call.

A firm drag of his thumb across your bottom lip smears some of your lipstick across your cheek, and Frankie leans back to admire the mess he’s made of you already. You’d told him earlier that the colour was “ruby woo”, so he makes a mental note to file the name away for when you eventually run out of it. 

Your white, tennis-style, mini dress makes you look even cuter - if that was at all possible, yet your imperfectly painted lips, red kitten heels and black thigh-high stockings gave you a hint of naughtiness that has his cock straining in his jeans. And to make it even harder for him to breathe, you’d gone ahead and bought one of those silly little pilot’s hats - the kind that reminds him of those sexy nurse or maid Halloween costumes, and Frankie can’t help but think he had the wrong first impression. 

It’s the perfect finishing touch to your ensemble; allowing you to play the part of the minx who loves to push his buttons. 

And, you’re certainly pushing them now, as you paw at the buckle of his belt; biting your lip in a filthy invitation for him to make you beg for it.

Removing your hat, Frankie’s able to get a good look at your face. Well, he had hoped to, but you seem to be playing demure, looking down at his feet like you’d never seen a man in the flesh before. You are testing him; coaxing his dominant side out of its shell.

With two fingers curled underneath your chin, Frankie raises your head to meet his gaze, and he’s met with your stubborn eyes as they dare him to play rough. 

“Cariño, what is it that you want?, he asks you. 

You swing your hair back so it no longer obscures his view of your chest. “I just want to express my gratitude…Sir. You flew all those people to safety, and I- … I wanna say thank you.”, you purr with faux innocence.

Fuck, he thinks. You’re going all out with this fantasy of his.

Your hands undo his belt and pull down his zipper, and within a few torturous seconds, you’ve got the denim over his ass. He doesn’t want to stunt your momentum, so he lets the material pool at his feet. After all, if this fantasy was real, there wouldn’t be enough room in his cockpit to remove them fully. 

“I-I, uh…wanna give you a treat, Sir.” you say. 

He teases you back. “Is that so?” 

Shit, the way he’s taunting you has you writhing in your panties; rubbing your thighs together to feel some kind of friction.

“And why should it be you, baby?” he asks. “There were hundreds of people on that flight. What makes you think you’re special?” 

“They’re not- not like me…” you begin. “They’re not…”

You knew exactly what you wanted to say, or you had ideas at least, but this is part of the game you two play. You hint at wanting to be called something dirty, and you wait for Frankie to take the bait. There are a few names that often make the rounds, but you save certain ones for special occasions. And this right here, is a special occasion. 

He finishes your sentence for you. “That’s right. They’re not naughty little sluts like you, huh?”

God, you adored this man. You were a slut for him, and you wore it proudly, practically drooling at the sight of his hard cock aching in his boxers.

You dip your delicate hand into them, before pulling it out and sitting back on your calves with a hint of a flirty smile peeking through your eyes.

Frankie knows your game. Loves it, even. “What was that, huh, pretty girl?” he taunts. “Thought I heard something.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you give in to his wants. “You’re right. They’re not like that, but I am. I’m a naughty little slut…who wants to suck your cock.”

“Holy fucking shit…” Frankie groans, as you finally pull the fabric down his thighs; enough to let his neglected cock spring out from its confines.

“Fuck, I love you.” he moans, and you never get tired of hearing it these days. It makes you want to work even harder to make this man cum for you. Knowing he’s utterly and irrevocably devoted to you makes you even hotter for him. You can say the same for Frankie, you know that now, but you’re still waiting for the right time to tell him. 

You give him an affectionate giggle in response, before reaching out to give his flushed tip the daintiest little kitten lick. The noise that comes out of him can only be described as pleading.

“Is this- Is this allowed, Sir?” you question devilishly. And Frankie swears he’s only seconds from his death. How could you even be real?

Your lover’s hands get lost in your hair, pulling you forward, but you manage to swerve him at the last moment. Fuck playing the good girl, you think, as you lick a thick stripe up the back of his cock. 

Somehow, the tip had gotten caught on the edge of your mouth as you moved your head, resulting in a wet smear of your lipstick being painted across the skin of your cheek.

You know Frankie’s getting impatient, so you’re hoping you don’t have to wait long until you get to feel the complete length of him warming the back of your throat. 

He’s close to it. Part of him wants to give into his needs, but the other part loves to fight with you. He tries again, reaching for the back of your neck this time, before he directs your pouty lips to where he’s throbbing for you. 

You sense him trying. He’ll snap soon, you acknowledge.

Frankie knows this isn’t the end of your teasing, but he also knows that you’re not entirely evil, and you’ll give him what he needs soon, because you care for him deeply. You may love him, too, if he’s really that lucky.

You don’t swerve him this time, but you do revert to a different tactic. Taking him in your mouth, just a little, you lap at his shaft a few times before pulling off, and a thick strand of your spit lingers between his cock and your lips, causing you to let out a loud moan at just how dirty this is. 

“Fuck…Frankie. It’s too big. I don’t think I can take it all.” you whine, and Frankie laughs darkly at your words. 

He knows this one, too. It’s a firm favourite in your playbook: you pretend it’s too big, and it is too big, but he knows you’re able to take it, and he makes you feel so damn helpless as he gives you no way of escaping it. You both love it, that’s for sure.

Frankie’s voice takes on a more sinister tone, then, as he almost sneers. “Well how about you actually try, baby? And you better do it fucking properly, too.”

Oh my god. This man, you think. You love him. You fucking love him.

And that’s not just your pussy talking either. Sure, she loves Frankie, but so do you. You really are sure of it, and you have been for a little while now.

You flash back to the moment you realised it was love that you felt for Francisco Morales. No matter how much you wanted to run from it, and no matter how unbearable the weight of the word felt on your trying heart, you had no choice but to accept it. You’d always been a realist, and well, this was real.

Your sister and her husband had invited you and Frankie over for dinner, and knowing that it was probably time to start incorporating family into your dynamic, you’d both accepted the invitation with open minds.

However, it appears you were too quick to give your brother-in-law the benefit of the doubt. And if Frankie thought Will was difficult to handle, he’d have his work cut out for him when it came to Nick.

Frankie soon came to realise that, as the two of you faced an onslaught of intrusive questions from the man your sister married. 

Reaching for another serving of pasta, you shot Frankie a look over your shoulder that said, I’m sorry that all the men in my life are problematic. Except you, baby. And if you weren’t in the presence of others, he would have kissed you in reassurance.

“So… Frankie.” Nick began. “You managing to keep up with this one? She’s a wild thing, huh?”

Ew. The audacity of this man never failed to amaze you. 

You looked at your sister and she gave you an apologetic smile, though you’d never blame her, this was all him, and if he didn’t pay the bills, she’d have him out on his ass before he could even open his sleazy mouth.

“Uh… yeah.” Frankie chuckled awkwardly. “She keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure.”

You reached for his hand that rested beside his plate, and curled your fingers protectively around his. It was a silent thank you for preparing to weather this storm alongside you.

Nick continued. “I’m surprised you stuck around, son. A lot of guys don’t think she’s worth the hassle. Don’t know her like we do, of course.”

“Thank you Nick, for that compliment.” you bit out, and you could feel Frankie’s fingers flex beneath yours.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” he replied, your sarcasm not lost on him.

“Nick…” your sister tried softly. “We’re happy for them, aren’t we?”

“We sure are.”, came her husband’s reply. But he had never been one to let sleeping dogs lie, and he wasn’t about to start right then.

“I just gotta ask-” he pushed. You rolled your eyes. 

“How do you deal with the constant mood swings, huh? The permanent poker face…the indecisiveness.”, he said, and at that point, you didn’t know how far he’d go to tarnish your reputation in front of Frankie.

Frankie remained silent.

“You know what I mean, right?” he asked him, whilst chewing with his mouth open. As if his words weren’t repulsive enough…

“Surprised she’s not had you sign a contract or somethin’. Outlining all the terms and conditions, how often you fuck and all that.” he said crassly, chuckling the whole time, much to your sister’s displeasement.

“Honey-” she pleaded. “Enough of that kind of talk.” 

Yeah… enough of that. You couldn’t help but agree with her, even if you both had different reasons for wanting to shut this man up. 

Frankie. Your Frankie. The man you gave so much of your being to, wasn’t prepared to sit through any more of hearing someone talk about you like that. It was blasphemous.

He squared his shoulders, before lowering his voice to a chilling rasp. “Yeah, that’s enough.”

The two of them stared at Frankie in surprise, whereas your expression reflected only pride; you were proud of the way he was sticking up for you, and although you didn’t think you deserved it - as some of Nick’s comments mirrored your own insecurities - you were incredibly moved.

“How about you keep her name out of your mouth. She deserves to be spoken about with respect. Clearly, you’re not capable of that.” Frankie told him sternly.

“Sure,” said Nick. “Cause you know her best, right?”

“Alright man, you’ll be sorry when she breaks your heart, that’s all.” 

Frankie was seething. And if this man wasn’t your sister’s husband, and father of your beautiful nieces, he could’ve killed him with his bare hands. 

“Family, huh?” Frankie jested mirthlessly. “Well the woman I love is nothing like you claim she is. She’s too fucking good for you. For me too… for all of us even. Of course, assholes like you can’t handle anything complex. It scares you…”

Nick looked as though he wanted to pounce on the man sat opposite him, but he stayed put; daring Frankie to continue.

“And I get scared, too. She’s everything…and a lot of it’s unknown to me. I never know what she’ll do next. Don’t know if I ever will. But I’m fucking grateful as anything that I get to figure it out with her. I don’t know why she wastes her time on you. She’s far too good for that, and you can’t even see it.”, Frankie says with sincerity. 

Where did all that come from? You didn’t want to move; afraid to let the moment end, and this was a decisive moment for you.

After all, the man your sister married was responsible for a large chunk of the insecurities you still hold to this day, having been around you during your most formative years, when he had also poured his venomous judgement of your love affairs into your father’s ear. Though neither of them ever knew what they were actually talking about, it didn’t stop them from spreading their poison around your close-knit community. Part of you even thinks that’s where Will got it from, though you can say with absolute certainty that he loves you, and yet the same can’t be said for your brother-in-law.

And for Frankie to defend you like that? He’d never truly know just how much it meant to you. 

But you would know. 

The two of you were no longer welcome, it had seemed, as Nick spat out, “It’s late.”  So, you and Frankie took the liberty of seeing yourselves out. 

When you’d reached the safety of his car, you were overcome with pure, unadulterated need for him. You needed to show him how much you loved him. But as you channeled all your anxiety into your desperate kisses, you figured it wasn’t the time for more words. God knows you’d heard enough of them over the course of the evening.

So, as you take even more of him in your pretty little mouth, your eyes watering as you work to bring him to his peak, you’re hit with the urge to slow it down. Just for a moment. And so you lift your head up.

“Do you love me?” you ask. He nods and traces his knuckles over your cheekbone; a tender touch that tells you he’s here with you in this moment. You have his undivided attention.

It’s not quiet. 

It’s confident, passionate and distinct when you tell him, “I love you, Francisco.” 

Resting your cheek against his thigh as you peer up at him, you reaffirm. “I really mean it. I love you.”

Frankie’s floored. He didn’t think you’d reach this point for a while, but he’s overjoyed at your sudden confession. 

Already, he feels stronger. It’s like your words sealed his fate; they made him feel steady on his feet, ready to take another step forward, towards you. You’d given him another piece of you, and now, loving you didn’t seem as impossible as it did before. Somehow, the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to align. And he knew that the picture you were both creating would be so fucking beautiful.

After Frankie finally comes down from his high, he’s met with the sight of you studying him. His cum smeared exquisitely across your lips, you decide to tease him one last time. 

“So…how about it, Sir? Do you think I’m special now?” 

Special doesn’t cut it, he thinks. 

You’re an enigma.

The most thrilling kind of special.

Thank you for reading! Please consider commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed it. <3

Taglist for those who expressed interest in a sequel: @harriedandharassed @gracieispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @hiroikegawa

Thank you guys so much for motivating me to write a second part!