#jest from heartless

[caihosreads]

“A heart, once stolen, can never be taken back”

Jest and Catherine inspired by Marissa Meyer’s Heartless🖤

this book man this book 🙇🏻‍♀️

Never thought I’d ever be sympathising for the Queen of Hearts and yet here we are… painting an extra squishy happy scene hoping to fill up the void this book left.

[charsoamerican]

Im convinced Ed and Taylor wrote “The Joker And The Queen” for Jest and Cath-

“The road that was broken brought us together”

“I know you could fall for a thousand kings, and hearts that would give you a diamond ring”

“And then you went all in, and we left together”

“And who was I to say, that this was meant to be”

It’s crazy accurate

[darlingod]

Did Heartless by Marissa Meyer also fuck anyone else up? And now it is wise you don’t reread or even so think about the book?

Because me too. No one prepared me for that. Not at fucking all.

[abowgail]

This one’s been in the back of my mind for a while and the other day I found these rose buttons which were perfect so I finally had to actually make it

[endversewinchester]

So I started reading heartless and I just wanted to hop in on here and say I find it very interesting how the author is building the “Queen of Hearts” lore very subtly.

Catherine has (up until the end of chapter 13 when she threatens that flamingo in an anger burst) no flaws that would come across as red flags to what she would grow up to become, unless you know what she will grow up into. She is strong willed, a perfectionist and a bit inconsiderate of her friend’s opinions but that can all pass as teenage girl antics. It is a very good move on the author’s part, even if a sad one.

The mommy issues are killing me. The line about how her mother has anger outbursts knowing that’s something she will inherit scarred me. Worse still with what is undoubtedly coming, because I 100% know what it is she feels Jest stole from her in her dreams, and that she must get back.

[winces]

I do have thoughts about a king who is 15 years older than his wife-to-be. He is portrayed as this silly, kind guy but it kinda falls apart to me over that. Silly men don’t go after teenage girls using their wealth and influence to get what they want. Not for me. Thank you.

And lastly, Jest is a 10/10. This is the second love interest that has me immediately hooked from the 20-ish books I read this year (Dante from Caraval is the other one) and so know I don’t say this lightly. He is adorable and I feel really bad about what is bound to happen here.

[swordymacaroni]

" nu-uh, gojo."

he pouts cutely. "it's true! i'm 6'3!"

"and i'm the queen of england," you giggle as you produce a tape measure.

he quirks his lips. "and what do i get if i am six three?"

"a thousand kisses from your beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking lover. "

his cheeky smile spreads across his face. "deal."

you stand on your tiptoes as your hold the tape to his head and secure the end with your foot.

gojo's hands rest on your waist, running teasing fingers under your shirt. "i'll be expecting those kisses anytime now."

you finally back away with a triumphant smile. "you lying liar. you're not six three!"

He huffs. "am too. had suguru measure me just last week."

you ignore his jests. "nope. you're only six two and a quarter inch." then you burst into a fit of cackles.

his mouth falls open. "you heartless, conniving woman!"

(maybe that quarter inch went somewhere else🤷‍♀️)

inspired off this

[bloomseishiro]

THAT’S MY GIRL — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — dating a famous soccer star can be scary, especially with all the crazy fans and online gossip. so you and rin decide to keep your relationship a secret. a misunderstanding occurs when you hang out with your friend (another famous soccer player) and now the internet thinks you’re dating karasu?! 

itoshi rin x fem!reader. fluff, established relationship, secret relationships, pro soccer player!rin, possessive!rin everybody cheers, karasu is one of reader’s besties, reader wears a dress ; i had so much fun writing this i will never shut up about it pls enjoy

word count. 2.2k 

You didn’t intend to keep your relationship with Rin a secret. 

At least, not for this long. 

You thought you would quickly warm up to the idea of being a famous soccer player’s girlfriend, but recent events had you thinking otherwise. Not too long ago, one of Rin’s former Blue Lock contestants revealed that he had a girlfriend, and his fans on the internet completely tore her to shreds. They were mainly complaining about how she broke ‘NagiReo’ apart and how she was heartless for stealing Nagi from his real soulmate. Some even went so far as to threaten her!

You shudder as you recall the social media posts and tabloid titles. 

If the public reacted so badly to that, what’s to say they would welcome you?

So you decide to prolong your secret relationship and, thankfully, Rin doesn’t mind. 

He doesn’t care too much about public opinion. As long as he knows you are happy with him, and you give him the reassurance you know he loves (though he doesn’t want to admit it), he’s content with keeping this between the two of you for a little while longer. 

Still, keeping your relationship a secret from the press also meant you couldn’t go out to dinners together, being forced to order takeout or get food delivered inside. Even going to his games was a rare treat, and even then you had to wear a full disguise and sit in an obscure nosebleed seat. 

It frustrates you, really. Why can’t people just be normal? 

You sigh.

“Are you still moping?” asks Karasu as he returns with your drinks. 

For the past thirty minutes, you’ve been telling your friend, who happens to be another one of Rin’s former Blue Lock acquaintances, about all your secret dating woes. 

You nod, taking a spice of your ice cold water. “Yeah, yeah. No more of me crying over not even being able to eat at a fast food place like this with Rin. Instead, let’s hear all about your most recent failed dating stories.”

“They’re not all fails,” he drawls, shoving a bundle of fries into his mouth. “I might be going on a second date with one of them.”

“And she’s not scared of the backlash?” you ask, a hint of resignation in your voice. 

Karasu shrugs. “Most people just ignore the hate. Those delusional fans aren’t real fans, but at least they make us more money, right? It’s part of the industry. Comes with dating a famous athlete. Don’t take it to heart, Y/N. I’m sure your lover boy Rinnie will shield you from whatever backlash occurs anyway.”

Frowning, you dip a fry into some ketchup over and over.

“You look a little menacing stabbing your ketchup like that,” jests Karasu, putting his arms up in surrender. “It was just a suggestion. You don’t have to reveal anything you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to!” you cry exasperatedly. “I want Rin to be able to hold my hand in public, and make eye contact with me! I don’t want to wear a stupid disguise when I go to his games. I want to kiss him right in front of the paparazzi and then throw my middle finger at their face!” 

“Then do it.” He pauses, a grin forming in his face as the scene plays in his head. “No, wait, for real, do it. Do you know how badass that’d be?”

“No!” You place your head into your hands and pout. “I’m nervous.” 

“Who cares what those less than mediocre losers think anyway?” Karasu scoffs, finishing the rest of his burger. “They’re not significant enough for you to worry about. Just do what you want.” He reaches over to steal some fries off your tray. “I bet Rin would like it if you came to support him during his games. As yourself. And not you with a mustache and clown wig or whatever atrocity it is you put on.”

“I do not wear a clown wig as a disguise,” you say, shooting him a glare. 

“Don’t need a disguise to be one.”

“Okay, our catch up session is over,” you deadpan, grabbing your purse and standing up from the table haughtily. 

Karasu laughs, taking no offense to you leaving. “Can I have the rest of your food?”

“Go ahead, you crow.”

He rolls his eyes but happily takes your leftovers. As you leave, he calls out, “Hey, Y/N.”

You glance back at him. 

“Remember what we talked about. Who gives a fuck what others think? Just do what will make you and Rin happy, okay?”

Reluctantly, you nod, knowing full well he’s right. The main focus on your relationship with Rin should be doing what makes you both happy and fulfilled. The main focus shouldn’t be avoiding the press and his fans. 

Karasu said it best. 

Who gives a fuck? 

“Hey, have you seen what’s trending yet?”

Rin blinks, considering hanging up the phone. Isagi rarely calls him, and it’s even more rare for Rin to actually pick up. So why the hell were the first words out of Isagi’s mouth about what’s trending? Since when did Isagi even care? 

“No. Don’t care. Bye.”

“Wait, wait!” Isagi butts in before Rin can press the red button. “It’s about Karasu and Y/N…dating.”

Rin frowns at the reveal. He knew you were going to get lunch with Karasu yesterday, but there was no way it was a date. He puts Isagi on speaker and opens up Twitter. Of course, the top trending topics are, “karasu’s girlfriend” and “WHO IS SHE?” to name a few. 

At Rin’s silence, Isagi continues, “Not that there’s any way it’s true, of course. She would never cheat on you! And Karasu isn’t that kind of guy, either.”

Rin knows all that. But he doesn’t care. He’s too busy being annoyed that your first introduction to the public is as Karasu’s girlfriend and not Rin’s girl. 

He grits his teeth, seconds away from throwing his phone onto the floor. 

You’re his girlfriend. Not anyone else’s. He didn’t care what the public thought…until it came to something so ridiculously incorrect like this. 

“Rin,” says Isagi. “Everything good?”

“No,” he barks, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I���ll clear this bullshit up. Bye.”

“Huh? Oh, okay, bye—!”

Rin hangs up and pockets his phone, immediately dropping everything to head over to your place. He has to see you. Now. 

You go through your day blissfully unaware of all the drama going on online (and with your own boyfriend).

You take Karasu’s advice from yesterday to heart. Perhaps you are just too chronically online and need to stop being so worried about the opinions random strangers might have about you.

It’s time for a digital detox.

Earlier, you deleted any and all social media apps off your phone, bar text messages if that even counted, and so far, it feels pretty freeing.

You’re so busy coloring and embroidering—both random hobbies you picked up but never had much time for since you would doom scroll instead—you hardly notice the sound of your door opening.

“Y/N?” inquires a frustrated-looking Rin.

“Rin!” you greet in excitement, dropping your activities and rushing over to give him a big hug. “I didn’t know you were coming over right now! Did I miss your call?”

He shakes his head. “No, I just came over. Are you busy right now?” 

“Never too busy for you,” you say with a cheesy wink.

Rin snorts, ruffling the top of your head. “Good. Let me take you on a date, then. I bought you a new dress to wear, if you want.” 

Your ears perk up at the sound of that. You absolutely love when Rin spoils you with surprise gifts! It also helps that he has a shockingly keen eye for the types of dresses that best suit your figure.

“Let me shower and get ready. Then we can go,” you say as you begin to head over to the bathroom. “What do you have planned for us?”

“Kioicho Fukudaya,” Rin states as if he’s saying something as ordinary and common as McDonald’s and not a two Michelin-starred restaurant. 

Your jaw drops. “How did you get a reservation so last minute?!”

He shrugs, lip quirking upward as you bounce in excitement. “Just made a few calls.”

“Just a few calls?” you repeat sarcastically. As nonchalant as Rin pretends to be, you’re fairly certain he had to fight tooth-and-nail for a table at a place like that. 

The two of you haven’t really gone to public places like restaurants, no matter how exclusive and high-end they were. Even with all the secrecy in the world, it would never be truly private. Paparazzi were still bound to be there lurking.

Realization dawns on you and you blink. “Wait…Won’t people see us together?”

“Possibly.” Rin hesitates for a moment. “Is that okay?” 

You weigh the consequences in your mind but remind yourself what’s really important. You want to let everyone know you’re with Rin. And judging from today, it seems he wants the same.

“I don’t mind,” you promise softly. “I think I’m ready to stop keeping this a secret relationship. But…what brought this on?

Rin’s eyes narrow as he grits out, “Karasu.”

Your head tilts in confusion. “You talked to him too?” 

“What? No.” His brows crinkle together. “I just saw you guys trending online.”

You blink. “Huh?”

He returns your look of equal confusion. “Have you not checked Twitter?”

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “I deleted all my socials off my phone. Just so I’m not tempted to check it.” 

Rin raises his brow in question. 

“I’m tired of keeping our relationship a secret… I was hoping if I stopped checking the online gossip and what’s trending, I could ignore all the outside noise and just focus on us,” you explain. 

At your words, a smile forms on his face. Not a smirk, or a half-grin, but a full-fledged smile. Just seeing his expression makes you happy. 

This is definitely the right choice, you tell yourself. 

“Well, fans saw you and Karasu getting food together and now the media is calling you ‘Karasu’s girl’,” mutters Rin in annoyance. “Obviously, it’s false. But it still bothers me to see that.” 

You visibly gag at the news. “Ew! What? Karasu and me? Are they blind?!” 

He snorts at your face filled with disgust. “Blind and stupid. I want to show them just how wrong they are.”

It begins to dawn on you why Rin wants to dress you up all nice and take you to a fancy restaurant. You giggle at his possessiveness, finding it rather cute. You know he trusts you fully, but there’s no harm in him wanting to stake his claim. 

“We’ll definitely show them.”

“Get ready then,” he says after planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “I have to freshen up, too. It will be our grand reveal, after all.”

He makes it sound like some sort of mission. You giggle to yourself. 

“Join me in the shower?” you ask with a grin.

“Do you even have to ask?”

After the two of you get yourselves clean and dressed to the nines, Rin pulls you flush against his body as he examines you in the mirror. 

The dress he chose is soft and silky, hugging your curves perfectly. It’s floor-length, but the high slit rises to your upper thigh, exposing just enough skin to leave people curious. 

Rin stands behind you in his dark brown suit, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist as he kisses the side of your neck. 

“You look gorgeous,” he compliments.

“You do too,” you say with a smile. “Very handsome.”

Rin meets your gaze through the mirror and smirks. “I wasn’t planning on doing it this way, but you look too good to let this opportunity go to waste.”

“Opportunity? What do you mean?”

He doesn’t reply, instead taking his phone out his pocket and opening up the camera. Rin points it at the mirror and adjusts his arm so it slightly covers your face. Realizing he’s taking a photo of you two, you smile shyly, pressing yourself closer to his chest. 

“Beautiful as always,” says Rin after he captures the picture. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you jest, peeking over at his screen. 

When you see the photo, you almost blush. With the way his hand is gripping your body, and given how close you two are, it seems like you’re intruding on an intimate moment—and you lived it yourself!

You watch as Rin opens a social media app and posts the photo with a simple caption.

@RinItoshi: my girl. get it right.

Once finished, he tosses his phone aside carelessly and looks at you with a smile. “Ready for our date?” 

“Always!”

Placing your hand in his, you excitedly follow him out the door and to his car. The two of you are so happy in your own little bubble, neither one of you notice how the internet is absolutely blowing up over Rin’s reveal of your relationship. 

But that’s okay. You like it better that way. 

@KarasuTabito: DAMN IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH

@isagiofficial: congrats you guys! :)  

@iluvrinxoxo: holy shit she’s hot

@iluvrinxoxo: ahahahah rin who???? 

@iluvrinxoxo: changing my username bye

[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 ^__^

[theprettieststarxx]

Cath and Jest from Heartless by Marissa Meyer 🖤

Art by @/gabriella.bujdoso on Instagram

[tima7fa]

Kids? Kids!

Your Best Friend Satoru Gojo Brought (Kidnapped) Some Kiddos.

This was supposed to be about family bonding but it ended up with reader bonding with gojo. A shitty attempt in making an argument. No use of y/n. Can be taken romantically or platonically idc honestly (Artist:imnotxreitive)

___________________________________________

This must be some sort of jest, a fleeting moment of mischief, surely? Alas, the reality before you is undeniable.

As a skilled sorcerer, your life has been progressing smoothly, enriched by the companionship of your closest friends - Utahime, Satoru, and Shoko. It was not at all unusual for them to visit your brand new apartment, eagerly assisting in its decoration, their enthusiasm often exceeding your own.

They would frequently remark on the comfortable, cozy atmosphere you had all cultivated together, each adding their own distinctive touch to the space. So the sight of Satoru, your perpetually mischievous white-haired friend, standing at your doorstep should not have elicited such wide-eyed astonishment.

Yet, it was not merely his presence that had seized your attention, but the unexpected company he had brought with him - two children. A young girl, her eyes alight with excitement, clasping the hand of the white-haired boy, while the other child, a boy, stood beside her, his gaze cast downward, fingers clutching hers tightly.

"Yo, long time no see! I know you missed me." Satoru snickered, unceremoniously pushing open your door. You had been gripping the doorknob, but the sudden movement caused your hand to slip, falling limply to your side. He strode in with a self-satisfied grin, the children trailing behind him. "Did you kidnap these two kids?" you marveled, closing the door and turning to face him, his back now to you.

Dramatically, Satoru spun around, feigning offense. "How could you accuse me of such a thing? You're so heartless!" he exclaimed, exaggerating his movement as he addressed you. "I would never do that! I'm the kindest soul on this earth!" Truly, a day could not pass without Satoru finding a moment to lavish praise upon himself, you thought, rolling your eyes.

"Who are these children? And where are their parents?" you inquired, tilting your head slightly. At the mention of their parents, the boy's mood seemed to sour, his expression growing more irritated, while the girl's demeanor became more somber. "Ah..I'm sorry! I didn't mean to.." you quickly apologized, crouching down to their level and offering a gentle, apologetical smile.

With a warm smile, you introduced yourself to the children, politely inquiring for their names as well. The girl seemed a bit hesitant, but eventually found her voice, stating, "I'm Tsumiki Fushiguro, and this is Megumi Fushiguro, my younger brother." As she spoke, she placed her hand gently on her chest, letting go of the white haired males hand, her large, doe-like eyes meeting your gaze. You couldn't help but find her utterly adorable.

"It took you longer to introduce yourselves to me," Satoru's voice complained from behind you. "Jealous?" you asked, grinning as you looked up at him from your crouched position.

"Very," he replied, scowling.

You chuckled softly as you stood up. "Alright, what would you all like to eat?" you inquired, your attention focused on the children.

After a moment of silence, during which they seemed to silently confer with one another, Tsumiki and Megumi spoke up, their voices overlapping.

"Oyakodon!"

"Kikufuku!"

You turned to Satoru in disbelief. "I didn't ask you," you sighed.

"Stop being so mean to me! Aren't I your best friend?" he whined, like a petulant child, latching onto your arm and shaking it playfully.

"Kikufuku is a dessert, not something you eat at this time." you gently chided, slipping your arm out of his grasp and looking back at the children. Tsumiki appeared dumbfounded by Satoru's behavior, while Megumi simply glared at him. You couldn't help but wonder what the white-haired troublemaker had done to earn the boy's ire.

"Oyakodon it is, then." you announced with a smile.

"What about my Kikufuku?" Satoru protested.

"Just go buy it yourself." you replied.

"I don't want to!" he whined.

___________________________________________

You emerged from your room, and it came as no surprise to see your white-haired friend still awake at this hour. Gojo Satoru never slept, for how could he when at any moment someone might need his help? You knew all too well the burden he had been carrying for years. "I thought you were asleep." he muttered, staring out the window, his gaze fixed on the nothingness beyond, lost in deep contemplation.

"How could I be, when I'm still not sure why my friend has kidnapped two children?" you hummed, making your way to the kitchen and retrieving a bottle of juice from the fridge. He chuckled softly, "You're still on that?" You poured the juice into two glasses and approached him, offering one.

"Why aren't you asleep?" you asked in return. "Insomnia," he replied, his stance shifting. "I can't stop thinking about everything." He shook his head solemnly. "You should go to sleep."

"Here," you said, extending the glass of juice towards Satoru, ignoring his suggestion about your own slumber. "Free alcohol?" he asked, looking down at you from his towering height. "Why would I want to get you drunk?" you retorted, standing beside him and gazing out the window, your own glass in hand. "Besides, you know I don't drink myself."

He took the glass from your outstretched hand, contemplating its contents for a moment before taking a sip.

"You still buy alcohol." he muttered as he took a sip from the glass of juice.

"For Utahime and Shoko, yeah." you hummed in response.

"Now, care to tell me why you kidnapped two kids?" you asked, taking a sip from your own glass.

"It was their father's dying wish, and you know me - I'm the kindest person on Earth," he began to ramble on, his ego on full display.

"Are those... Toji's children?" Satoru suddenly grew quiet.

"Yes," he replied.

"Why would you-" you started, but he cut you off.

"Because it's not the kids' fault for their parents' wrongdoings," he said firmly. "You do know that it's not your obligation to help everyone or anyone, right?" You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

"But it is my responsibility to protect everyone as the strongest." He huffed, taking another sip of his juice.

"Keeping everyone safe is not possible, and that is not your job as well. You know that, right?"

"...I know that. But as the strongest sorcerer, how can I live with myself if I let others suffer?" he said, sighing again. "I don't want to see others suffer like I did. Or die. So... I have to keep moving forward," he shook his head, "Even if my shoulders and back are breaking."

"How could they leave you to suffer?" you said, your voice filled with empathy. "You are a jujutsu sorcerer, not a hero. You only have to kill curses, not protect the weak. If that were possible, not a single human would have died until now." Perhaps you did sound a bit like Suguru Geto in that moment, but you couldn't help but have a great understanding of why he was doing what he was doing.

His brows knitted together in a deep furrow. "Yes, I comprehend the circumstances... but as the preeminent, I must take action." He said clenching his hands into tight fists. "The civilians, the government, everyone - they depend on me. I cannot stand idly by and merely observe their suffering, even if I lack the capacity to shield them completely. I must do something... otherwise, I cannot in good conscience call myself the supreme."

You addressed him with a harshly pointed tone. "Everyone deserves a break. You mustn't forget that you too are human." This notion of "responsibility of the strongest" is merely a fallacy. The mere fact of being the preeminent does not equate to an obligation to protect all. Perhaps you should not have grown so irritated, but this fool seems incapable of grasping your perspective.

His jaw tensed, the corners of his eyes twitching. "I cannot simply take a break. I cannot sit idle when everyone relies on me." He said, clenching his fist. "I cannot turn a blind eye as innocent civilians are slaughtered by curses day after day... I cannot..." His lips quivered.

"And I cannot bear to witness my friend slowly succumbing due to this mentality that society has thrust upon him!" You said with furrowed brows. "It is not your responsibility to safeguard everyone - please comprehend this. You are human, not a machine engineered solely for one purpose."

His body tensed even further, his fists trembling as his breathing grew heavy with anger. "If you were in my position... if you were the preeminent, you would understand." His voice shook and raised in volume, filling the room with palpable tension. "You cannot fathom what it is like - to have every eye upon you... with everyone's hopes resting on your shoulders..." He says, as tears welled up in his eyes. "There is no one who truly grasps my position, not even you..."

You struck him with an open palm, the impact resounding. "Wake up, already. I too am regarded as one of the mightiest sorcerers, and I am acutely aware of the multitudes who rely upon me." You spoke calmly. "Yet, did I allow it to consume me? No. I was not born solely to protect those people - my purpose is not to sacrifice myself as a human shield for the masses. For I am a human being, with my own thoughts, feelings, and a life to maintain."

His eyes widened, registering the sting of your strike. He stared at you, a turbulent mix of anger and shock in his gaze.

"Then do you not have duties? You are a sorcerer. You are expected to combat curses, to shield civilians. Would it not be cowardly to turn your back on the responsibilities bestowed upon you as the strongest?" He began to ramble frenetically. "Don't you think it selfish to refrain from using your powers to protect others? How naive you must be, to believe you can idly watch as others fight and perish without you!" He spat.

"Gojo Satoru, I implore you to be more selfish." Your words were laced with venom. "If my sole purpose is to safeguard everyone, then this world is fundamentally flawed! I would sooner take my own life than exist in such a twisted society that exploits the strong and favors the weak."

"...You are being selfish by willfully ignoring your obligations..." He mumbled, glaring at you, his hands trembling. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. "Your duty as a powerful sorcerer is to protect others... I don't care what you think. Even if you are not required to do so, the mere fact that you possess such strength means you are duty-bound, for you have the capacity to save them."

You drew a steadying breath, striving to regain your composure.

"That is a woefully misguided mindset..." He said, averting his gaze, his eyes narrowing further as the muscles in his knuckles tensed. "You possess immense strength. And with that power, you could protect and save countless lives... yet you simply choose not to? Do you believe that true strength is about serving one's own interests? That being strong is merely about living for oneself? That is the height of selfishness and weakness." His voice dripped with disdain. "No, the essence of strength lies in self-sacrifice for the sake of others. Your duty as one blessed with such formidable abilities is to utilize them in service of those who cannot defend themselves."

"If my sole purpose is to shield the weak, then this world is fundamentally flawed. Why the hell do you believe our purpose is dictated by our strength?! Why do you insist that we, as the strongest, must squander our lives for the vulnerable simply because society expects it of us?" You snapped, the glass you had been holding shattered as it hit the floor, spilling its contents. "If you deem me weak and selfish for refusing to succumb to this toxic mentality of the strong sacrificing themselves for the weak, then so be it!"

You advanced towards him, stepping on the shards of broken glass, your feet paying the price. He retreated slightly as his gaze fell upon the glass you had crushed underfoot, then returned to meet your unwavering stare. You raised a finger, pointing accusingly. "I will not become like you, Gojo Satoru. I refuse to be a slave to this warped societal construct. My purpose is not solely to exist for the sake of the weak."

"I appreciate your strength and your altruistic desire to protect others. It is truly admirable." You said, your tone taunting. "However, I believe that possessing great power does not automatically bestow the responsibility to shield the vulnerable." Your eye twitched with the pain radiating from your feet, but you refused to yield. "Responsibility and obligation are moral concepts that transcend mere physical might. They arise from conscious choice, empathy, and a sense of duty."

His expression was unreadable as he turned and walked towards the door, leaving your apartment for good. You scoffed after he closed the door behind him. "Coward.." you muttered, before making your way to the bathroom to tend to your injury. You carefully removed the shattered glass from your feet and washed away the blood under the running water.

Limping out of the bathroom, you cursed under your breath as you retrieved the first-aid kit. You didn't want to bother Shoko with this minor incident, and it was already quite late. Settling on the couch, you opened the kit and prepared some antiseptic liquid and a cotton ball. You began tapping the cotton against the wounds on your feet, wincing at the sting. "Fuck.." you hissed, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Let me do it."

Your head snapped up at the sound of Gojo Satoru's cold, unyielding voice. You watched as he rounded the couch and sat at the table in front of you, gently placing your feet on his thighs. After retrieving a plastic bag filled with various medical supplies, he glanced at you. "I can handle this myself." you protested, trying to pull your legs back, but his grip on your ankles tightened, though his touch remained gentle. "I insist. I will tend to your wounds."

Resigned, you relented and allowed him to take the cotton ball from your hand. He began meticulously cleaning and dressing your injuries, his movements precise and careful. You clenched your fists against the couch as the antiseptic stung, hissing in discomfort.

"I'm sorry.." he suddenly murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. Normally, his eyes would be obscured by his thick black shades, but with his head lowered, you caught a glimpse of them. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and the usual light seemed to have dimmed, leaving a somber, haunted gaze.

"...I'm sorry as well-" you responded, your words barely above a whisper.

"I hate arguing with you. I don't like it at all. It's my fault, I shouldn't have snapped like that. I just... I don't know, I'm sorry. I'm such an asshole, I didn't mean to hurt you, but I couldn't stop running my mouth like an ignorant prick. Please, forgive me. I don't like being in conflict with you—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, your hand reaching up to his cheek, which had reddened from the slap. You felt guilty for having struck him. "I'm at fault as well. I also got irritated and even slapped you. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. I don't like arguing with you either, Satoru."

Your eyes were filled with remorse as you tenderly brushed your hand against his cheek.

His hand reached up to cover yours as he leaned his head into your touch. "Don't feel guilty for slapping me. I deserved it." he murmured against your palm, sending shivers through your hand. "Besides, your slap was weak. It didn't hurt much." he added with a teasing smirk.

You pulled your hand away, scowling and crossing your arms in annoyance. "You're such an annoying guy. I don't even know why I'm friends with you."

"I'm the best annoying guy, though. Don't forget that. Besides, you know you love me." He chuckled softly before turning his attention to the wound care supplies on the table.

"You bought a lot of these creams," you hummed, glancing at the plastic bag.

"Didn't know which one would be best." he shrugged as he began carefully bandaging your feet.

"Thanks.." you murmured softly, but sincerely. He understood, giving you a warm smile that you gladly returned.

Satoru stood up, closing the first aid kit after putting the things he had bought back inside. He then proceeded to clean up the broken glass and the blood that had been scattered around the house. You silently watched as he diligently tended to the mess, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for having him there.

Once he had finished, Satoru came and sat down beside you on the couch. "Now what?" you marveled, glancing over at him.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he suggested with a grin, taking the remote from the table.

"Sure." you agreed, and he turned the television on, deciding on a zombie apocalypse film.

Afterward, Satoru quickly laid his head in your lap, stretching his long legs across the couch so that they were left hanging over the arms. Without a word, you reached down and gently placed your hand on his head, immediately beginning to run your fingers through his soft, silver hair. A content smile never left his lips as he closed his eyes, seemingly relaxing into your touch.

It wasn't long before you heard his gentle snoring, realizing that he had indeed been exhausted. He had been carrying the burden of protecting everyone since birth, a mindset that had been forced upon him. You wished you could somehow ease his pain and his burdens, wanting to do so much for him because he truly deserved the world.

Carefully, you removed the sunglasses from his eyes and continued to tenderly stroke his hair, your heart aching for this remarkable man who had given so much of himself.

If anyone deserved a break, it was Satoru Gojo.

If anyone deserved an apology from every single person on this planet, it was Satoru Gojo.

He deserved the world.

___________________________________________

You awoke with a start, finding yourself in your own bed. Memories of being with Satoru on the couch came rushing back, and you realized he must have moved you here. But where were the two children?

Quickly, you stood up, forgoing your usual routine of neatly folding your blanket. The most pressing concern now was to check on Satoru and the kids. You hoped they hadn't left, as your apartment could feel so lonely without their company.

You walked to the door, taking a deep breath before turning the handle and stepping out. The delightful aroma of eggs immediately hit your nostrils, drawing you towards the kitchen.

There you saw Satoru, wearing your apron, humming a tune. To your surprise, the young girl, Tsumiki, was humming along with him. Megumi sat at the table, arms crossed, observing the scene with a pensive gaze.

"Already awake?" Satoru acknowledged, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.

"Yeah, just seconds ago." you nodded, slowly approaching the kitchen and focusing on the pan where Satoru was expertly preparing tamagoyaki.

"What are you making?" you asked.

"Tamagoyaki." he replied, gently rolling the half-set egg, then pouring in more of the mixture and repeating the process until the omelette was complete.

Suddenly, Satoru spoke up, "Listen, I'll be going on a mission overseas. If you don't mind, will you take care of the kids?"

Your eyes narrowed, and you huffed, "Those damn higher-ups can't give you a break, can they?" Satoru chuckled softly.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure these two have a great time here."

You hummed, glancing at the children at the table.

"I really can't thank you enough..."

"Don't," you interrupted. "That's what friends are for, aren't they?"

Satoru smiled. "Yeah. That's what friends are for."

Turning serious, you looked at Satoru and said, "Satoru, don't you dare die, or I'll kill you myself."

"I'm the strongest, why-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Just promise me that you'll come back."

"...I promise."

[pursuitseternal]

✨⚔️Chapter 3–“Little Huntress:” update to “Love Me, Hate Me” ⚔️✨Enemies to lovers retelling

Astarion x Tav (Katja) | M chapter | 3.8 K

🎨 by @dafna-winchester

Summary: After being bitten, Katja spends a restless night, learning for once that monsters are sometimes made… not born. One wayfairing stranger makes her confront these feelings, forcing her to question that straighter and narrow view of the Gur… much to Astarion’s delight.

CW: Act 1 spoilers, Astarion’s trauma rears its head, corruption kink incoming, Gandrel scene retelling

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Katja tossed and turned and then tossed some more.

Blood replenished, but her stomach curled in on itself with hate and disgust. At least, yeah, that’s what she thought it was. Sitting up in her dark tent, legs tangled in her bedroll, she stared at her wrist in the dim light of dawn. Those fang marks stared right back at her, angry, red circles ringed in darker flesh from the ice of his bite.

It… wasn’t supposed to feel that good, was it? She flopped herself back down on her other side. Or maybe it was, maybe it was supposed to pull her under his spell, weaken her constitution to make her hot and wet and dripping with the need for his cool touch on her cheek and between her…

“Fuck,” she hissed to herself, kicking her covers off completely. It was no use, she would be miserable tomorrow with no sleep.

Maybe just some fresh air? Just a walk to clear her head… the rest of the revelry had shut down long ago, the fires smoldering. With everyone so drunk, no one stayed awake to stoke it, she realized.

Dangerous. Katja groaned, taking on the responsibility that, once again, no one else noticed. She grabbed some grass, some sticks, poking and feeding the fire until it was strong again. Strong enough to keep the scary monsters away.

“I might have one good eye,” a warm, jovial voice spoke from behind her, “but I can see you got to fire-tending before me.”

Wyll stood calmly behind her, his face turned into that casual, confident grin. It made Katja’s heart steady, even as it made her wrist sting with pain and shame. “Well, I figure if you want something done right… “ She reached far enough over for another log from the pile, the cuff of her sleeve creeping up to reveal those angry, red circles.

Fang marks.

Any monster hunter worth his salt would recognize them.

And Wyll was worth… a lot of salt.

“Katja,” he whispered, watching as she gruffly pulled her sleeve back over the bite wounds. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” came her reply. For once, her cold, distant, grumpy nature worked in her favor and hid the lie. “You should see the other guy,” she made her lips laugh.

“I bet he looks sated, happy, and stronger,” Wyll jested back, folding his arms over his chest. “I may have just joined your party, but I can see the tragic charm of your… friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” she interrupted with vehemence, standing and squaring her shoulders, ready to argue.

But Wyll just laughed, warm and rolling, holding his hands up in surrender. “Easy, Barbarian,” he spoke in jovial tones. “I’m not judging. I might have killed my fair share of monsters and fiends, but never a vampire. Those are harder to find outside their hunting grounds. They don’t make themselves as… dramatically obvious as our companion.”

“Dramatically obvious? You mean loud and annoying,” Katja rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t resist glancing at his rose and scarlet tent where he was trancing.

“At the very least, he might be a menace and an egomaniac with a flair for the dramatic and a penchant for bloodshed, but Astarion isn’t soulless, heartless, or of the infernal persuasion.” Wyll trailed off, a distant look in his one good eye. “You’re not beholding your soul to anything truly evil…”

Katja scowled. “How can you say that?” she scoffed, grinding her own booted toe in the dirt and ash. “Aren’t you the Blade of Frontiers, the best monster hunter on the Sword Coast? You should be appalled at me… tell me I’ll be banished from Selûne’s light just for thinking all the depraved… impure… unholy…”

“Ah, ta, ta,” Wyll stopped her, frantically waving his arms. “I’m a Warlock, not a Priest. I don’t need your confession, by Balduran’s beard.” He shifted uncomfortable on his feet for a moment, and Katja wanted nothing more than to be divinely smitten right then and there.

“Gods… I don’t know what to do,” she sighed, her scarred face looking into the night sky, a canvas for her inner turmoil. “He told me if I let him feed, I can have the head of his Master as a bounty for my tribe. I’ll be Chief Hunter for sure, but…” That face grimaced with something other than pain.

“Katja,” Wyll spoke softly, assuringly. “I’ll be the first to admit ignorance on the ways of the Gur, but I do know one thing about battles— the enemy of my enemy is my….” He gave a flourish with his hand, waiting for her to finish the tried and true phrase.

Katja just waited, dark eyes wide and waiting on his wisdom. “What?” she asked, a few beats of silence later.

“Seriously?” Wyll’s face broke into a goodhumored and skeptical grin. “Friend. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Astarion is not… my friend,” Katja’s hackles bristled at the mere insinuation. Again.

“It’s a phrase? Like, choosing the lesser of two evils?”

“Why would I want a lesser evil?” Katha shook her braided head. “I want the no-evil-option.”

Wyll gave a heavy sigh. “What I mean is… maybe Astarion isn’t as he appears at first. Some monsters are born…. Others are made.”

That made her pause, her little nose scrunching, her blonde head tilting. Her dark eyes darted to Astarion trancing on his bedroll in front of his tent. Even from here, she could see the little rise and fall of his chest, taking sleepy breaths he technically didn’t need. His fingers curled into that shape Elves did. His pointed ears twitched in his reverie, whatever he relived in his meditations clearly affected him. His jaw clenched, and those breaths came faster and more frantic.

She hadn’t even noticed that Wyll had withdrawn to sit by the fire, or that her feet had led her closer to observe Astarion in his rest. He muttered to himself, names and grunts that sounded half-formed in his throat. If she crouched… yes, if she crouched she could hear names— Dal… Petras… Violet… Cazador. That last one was a snarl on his lips as his eyes flashed open. His breath was too quick, his eyes dark and dilated with rage, and… were those tears pooling in the corner of his eyes?

Unsure what came over her, but she reached out to soothe that pain. Katja pressed a hand to his own, only to get a face full of fangs and death-cold breath as he pinned her under him in the dirt.

“What are you doing?” he snarled, his thighs trapping her waist, his hands grabbed tight on her wrist and the other now on her throat. But in two blinks of his eyes, he released her. Her hands and throat at least. He raised himself up, a smirk on his sweaty face as he kept her pinned beneath his legs.

“And here I thought I was the nightcrawler that slipped into beds to seduce the sleeping…” he purred, but his voice seemed a little tight, less velvety than his usual simpering tones. “What’s wrong, darling? Come for a cuddle?”

“Get off me. I was just trying to help,” she snarled, pushing on his belly and thrashing beneath him.

“Oh, I bet you were,” he leaned down again, “in fact I can think of something very hard you could help me with… maybe a few times….”

Katja stared at him, neither angry nor submissive. Just those dark eyes boring up into his face as she stilled. “What was your nightmare about?”

Astarion froze for the splittest second. Then he breathed a laugh. “I wasn’t having a…”

“Who’s Dal and Petra’s and Violet?” she interrupted.

A reluctant groan, and he slipped off her, settling with one knee bent into his chest, his head tilted back to look into the stars. “My siblings,” he muttered after a moment. “Not… not my literal siblings, mind you, the other six spawn Cazador sired.” For that moment, as the moonlight bathed his pale skin, making his silver hair glow as if it were kissed by the stars, Katja’s heart stopped. He could have been any ordinary seductive Elf, with his mouth shut and his eyes closed.

Sitting up, she waited for more. But he didn’t offer anything, not yet.

“Why were you crying and thrashing and…”

“Alright, enough, you intrusive vagrant,” Astarion leveled his crimson glare at her, unamused… well maybe a little amused. “Cazador would send me and my six siblings into the city to bring him victims, we… couldn’t say no, compelled by him and his every dark whim. I had to lure his prey back to the palace by every means necessary, most especially with the gifts I was given…” He gestured dramatically the whole length of his body, from shimmering grey hair, to his bare chest, to the tips of his unclad toes. “If we failed, or disobeyed, or resisted, he would torture us… or even compel us to torture ourselves.”

His hand gripped around hers like a vice, pulling her closer as he twisted around. “You were too busy hating my undead guts to probably notice, but here…” As he turned, he placed her hand on the back of his shoulder. Rises and ridges, jagged and rough script circled in scars across his whole back.

“Moonmaiden’s light…” Katja whispered in shock.

“More like Cazador’s sadism,” Astarion scoffed in derision. “It’s a poem, composed and carved in my flesh one night, punishment for nothing more than the fact I existed.”

Katja couldn’t help herself, her fingers running over the weird shapes and whorls of his cool flesh. “Reason enough for nightmares…” she murmured.

Astarion turned once more, his finger tracing down her own jagged line in her cheek’s flesh. “Well, you told me of your scars,” he shrugged, almost gently, “I figured maybe I could do the same, since we do have our little… understanding now.” That look of vague kindness shifted, twisting back into that smirk of suave seduction. “And… I might have noticed that you didn’t stab me in the back, given the opportunity.”

“Don’t hold your blood-stinking breath, vampire,” Katja scowled in that little way of hers. “Just because I’m not killing you doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I’d be offended if you did like me, or if you stopped having murderous thoughts about me,” he crooned.

Katja grinned, turning her head and brushing her hands together to hide it as she stood. “Night,” she bid politely. Too politely.

His hand gripped hers roughly from her side. His thumb tracing over the fresh mark. “I think that tortuous nightmare left me… strained,” he purred, voice smooth as Cormyran silk. “You wouldn't mind soothing me a bit more with one last nibble, would you?”

Katja clenched her teeth, begrudgingly sitting back down on his bedroll. Their bodies decently far apart, she judged with a satisfied smile.

His bite was no less painful this time… nor less pleasurable. She tried to hide the way her back arched, concealing that tiniest clench of her thighs and her cunt. But more unnerving was how he just… stared at her.

He only took a few polite swallows before his tongue jutted out to lick the puncture wounds closed. “Finished?” she sniped at him, pulling her wrist away with white hot hostility.

Astarion just smiled and licked his lips, dabbing a finger at the bloodied corner of his mouth. “For now, my little treat,” he replied, a voice of silken seduction and venom all at once. “Don’t forget to say your prayers before you sleep,” he called, that sadistic lilt in his honeyed voice.

And Katja grumbled as she slapped her tent flap closed behind her. “Moonmaiden, deliver me…” came her prayer.

As she wrapped her hand around those icy wounds in her wrist, she ignored the needling thoughts in her brain… Did she really want to be delivered from this… from him?

The next morning was filled with acrid bog stink and rot. Katja could sense it, the Hag’s lands rife with dark magic meant to eat you alive. No way in the nine hells would she let some Hag offer her a cure. Gods…. If she thought about it long enough, she realized this was one story she could never tell to her tribe.

If she ever saw them again, that was.

It was just one monster after another… infecting her, helping her, possibly curing her… fucking and feeding from her….

With that though, Astarion turned his head, smirking over his shoulder. Fuck, Katja wondered, was he listiening through the tadpole?

A nice solid glower only made him scowl in return before focusing back on the road ahead. Katja took that as a victory. She’d show him she wouldn’t cow to all his demands; she might agree to make him stay strong with the boon of her blood, but he wouldn’t order her or control her… or dominate her…

Oh, that last one made her shiver just a little. Swallowing, she forced away the ghosts of his touch on her body and the memory of his mouth on her skin. Focus on finding the Hag, she reminded herself. Focus on the vapors of the bog and that stink of powdered iron vine…

Powdered iron vine? She froze in her tracks and squinted up the hill. “Astarion,” she hissed.

“Yes darling?” he turned and walked backwards, hands gripped into the straps of his pack, “I thought you were pretending I didn’t exist, too ashamed of your lover of a Vampire Sp—”

Katja lurched forward and clapped her palm over his sneering, ignorant mouth.

“What the hells do you think…” he muttered and hissed under her grip.

“Ah, stranger,” a warm voice bid them as a traveler approached them. “Forgive the aroma… Powdered…”

“Iron vine, yes,” Katja interrupted as she awkwardly released Astarion’s mouth, lips that now gaped in disgusted surprise. “Kushti divvus,” she greeted, guessing which dialect of her people he might speak.

Another Gur.

Apparently she guessed correctly as he eased his stance. This Gur was stocky, built for the hunt and the glory of their people. Surely he was the best of his tribe, and by the necklaces and strands of bone trophies and beads on his belt, he always got his quarry. Forcing a smile, she made every sinew in her body follow suit. If he suspected the monster she kept as company… Well, there would go her only chance to use him for Cazador’s head, for her own pride and promotion and future. A prize like that would serve her far more than some weather beaten old coot.

“A fellow child of Selûne here?” the stranger grinned, hands on his hips as his weathered, tanned face grinning wider.

Katja grunted, careful to show deference to an elder. “The scent of iron vine is not unfamiliar to a younger hunter,” she bowed her head. About to reach her hand out in greeting, her gaze caught the fleeting sight of those infernal bite marks. Shame seared through her, and she stuck it in her pocket. “Are you hunting so far out from tribe lands?”

Astarion’s honey voice took that tone that jeered with all the snark in his undead soul. “Pfft, is every Gur a monster hunter? How quaint you have more purpose than just vagrant cutthroats…”

Katja shot him a look, one that was supposed to do as much damage as her axe, one he wasn’t supposed to just blow off with that well-practiced, easy smirk of his. “Ignore the Elf,” she stressed the last word, “he talks too much.”

“Fairest and wisest beings are not my quarry,” the stranger arched a dark brow. “My name is Gandrel, and I am indeed seeking a monster, a Vampire Spawn, in these lands. His name is Astarion, and I am to bring him back with me to my tribe. I hope that the Hag of these lands will help me flush him out after the sun sets tonight.”

“Is that wise? Using one monster to trap another?” Katja folded her arms, insolence edging her tone. “If he’s just a Spawn, why risk more of your soul to seek aid from a disgusting Hag?”

Gandrel paused, his dark eyes skimming over the short little Barbarian, that glance quickly taking in each of her companions. Then, he scanned her up and down, no detail would be missed, not with his wizened experience. His brow furrowed in suspicion, his gaze was quick and sharp.

Shit.

“Did your elders not teach you respect, child?” Gandrel suddenly shifted onto his toes. “Your own presence in these lands is… curious, too young and insignificant to be on your own hunt. Which begs me to ask you… how did you come by those fang marks on your wrist?”

Katja could feel Astarion coiling like a spring beside her.

“They are fresh,” Gandrel’s thick, cracked lips turned in a chilling half smile. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were given out of… familiarity. The wrist isn’t a Spawn’s first choice of bite unless they mean to draw out the life of their victim for reasons of torture, mercy, or affection.”

Katja’s pulse was deafening. The burn of shame was immeasurable, only outmatched by the swirling, gut dropping angst that churned in her belly to think that another Gur would take Astarion from her. He was hers… her prize that was. Her chance at the head of a Vampire Lord.

Fuck this guy, she decided.

“Well, Astarion,” Katja gave the Vampire a twisted smirk. “Which one is it?”

The Pale Elf suddenly flexed his muscles, a wide and wicked smile on his face, catching the scent of ambush in the air. “Torture, it’s the torture one,” he purred. “Just to be clear.” Unsheathing his daggers, he bowed his head in mock submission. “Together, my little vagrant?”

“Impossible,” Gandrel’s eyes went wide. “But… the sun!” His panic set in, the inconceivable truth of a daywalking Spawn all but shattering that experienced air.

“The only thing impossible is your survival,” Astarion purred, running a finger down the sharp edge of his blade. “I’m going to enjoy this…”

Only once he was licking Gur blood off his dagger did Astarion finally catch his breath. They paused just off the path, cleaning their blades and resting before finding the same Hag their unwanted intruder had sought. He watched Katja as she knelt by the Gur’s corpse. Rudely, she had denied him feeding from this foe, and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. From the corner of his eyes, he watched as she muttered prayers, placing two coins over his lifeless eyes before standing once more.

It was almost picturesque, this scene of pious devotion and tradition. Two things he loathed. And because they were Gur practices, why that only made him loathe it more.

She took her sweet time standing in that congealing pool of blood before she moved once more. A few paces away, and she stopped and turned to use one of a few spells her tough Barbarian brain knew. “Arde!” she called, and the corpse burst into a mass of flames. Their enemy was no more, just ash and smoke.

Astarion sat back on his heels, narrowing his eyes. Katja was a curiosity, a conundrum he couldn’t quite pick apart. And it irked him to no end. What started as a small way of exacting his revenge against a whole people on one little girl now became… complicated.

He hated the Gur, those cutthroats that took their ignorance out on him one fateful night outside of the Magistrates’ offices. The night he died in this world. Shuddering at the memory, he forced himself to assess this blonde braided beauty more carefully. She stood in a silent vigil, mumbling her Selûnite prayers one after another. She looked so… immaculate, pious, untouchable. Pure. It made his stomach lurch into his throat. In excitement, in anticipation.

A thought niggled the back of his mind, that part of him, ruthlessly cruel and oh so skilled at manipulation, plotted long and hard. Those thoughts reverberated with the notion of how much fun it could be to show her just what she missed on that straight and narrow path of the Gur.

A little corruption would go a long way, he smirked. Besides, he owed her a good time after taking his side.

He suspected her ambition protected him, her need to keep him alive so she could claim Cazador’s death as her final offering to become chief hunter… or whatever those backwater people called it. He didn’t care, so long as someone helped him kill that bastard.

Ever the conundrum, she stepped into the ashes, kicking them up with her boots. As all the dust had settled, then she reached in and retrieved those same two coins.

That… that made him smile. “Well,” he purred and resheathed his dagger, “perhaps there’s some hope for you after all. I was beginning to think you were no fun at all.”

“Why waste two coins?” she harrumphed, putting them in her pocket. “He’s not going to need them in paradise.”

“Yes, yes,” Astarion purred. “Eternal rest grant unto him, etcetera etcetera…” Those crimson eyes leveled at her, all brimming with primal hunger.

Katja shuddered, trying very hard not to feel like a mouse in a trap. Trying hard to remember she was the hunter.

“You know, I could show you a different sort of paradise.” He crept closer on silent feet, the tip on his tongue dabbling the teeny corner of his lips. “You wouldn’t even have to go through death to reach it, perhaps just a little death… once or twice if you’re very responsive.”

Katja’s scarred face twisted into a perplexed frown. “How can anyone die a little?” she sneered.

Undeterred, he grabbed that bitten wrist, pressing his full, smirking lips to that pulsing vein beneath. “Oh my dear, I’m glad you asked. My tent, tonight. Once the others are asleep, I’ll make sure you are thoroughly illuminated, my little huntress.”

[saltandfire-blog]

A Knight’s Tale AU WIP

just a silly fluff piece <3

“I'm going to win this tournament for you.”

Aemond arched his unmarred brow. “Pardon?”

“This tournament, I'm going to win it in your name,” Lucerys declared, staring like the puppy that still wagged its tail even after it’s been kicked away a thousand times, “Every knight I defeat, it will be for you. Your beauty will be reflected in the power of my arm, the flanks of my horse – ”

“Gods spare me.” Aemond snorted, truly disgusted by such a display, “It's flanks you say?”

Lucerys flushed, head tilting down abashedly. Fly away curls that escaped the fishtail plait his sisters braided fell into his face, a habit from boyhood when he had nothing left to shield himself behind. Though Aemond was not so fooled and knew first hand Lucerys was no bashful maid. “Come now, Aemond, don't make me grovel. How can I prove it to you?”

“Prove what exactly, Lucerys?” Aemond sighed.

“My love.”

Aemond's lip curled, repulsed at such impudence, his audacity knowing no bounds. “Your love?”

Scoffing, he glanced around, ensuring there were no other ears around to hear. “You ask in earnest?”

Lucerys didn’t even blink. “You know I do.”

If Aemond were being earnest, he would be ashamed before he met the gods and had to answer for all the sin Lucerys ever inspired in him. Only when he knelt  before The Mother did Aemond confess he desired this audacious and unorthodox man. Something about the infuriatingly brazen smirk he could flash across a room was enough to warm him beneath his collar. Or the way he swung Wave Breaker, Valyrian steel or not, like it weighed nothing more than a mere log splitter. Aemond desired the chest he knew to be as hard as an oak from years of climbing up and down the riggings of the Sea Snake and riding Arrax possibly more than he even sailed. It was peaking up at him now from below the man’s obscenely low cut Valyrian-inspired robes, frustratingly reminding him of the last time he dug his nails down the same hard pectorals, wishing to untie and peel away his fine opalescent jacket even in this moment. But love?

No. Lucerys was nothing but a witless romantic and did not know the distinction between lust and love.

“If you would prove your love, Lord Strong, you should do your worst.”

Lucerys laughed like he thought Aemond was jesting. Yet he found nothing playful in this anymore, his arms remaining crossed behind his back, unmoved.

Luke's smile slipped from his face. “What do you mean?”

“Instead of winning to honor me, I want you to act against your normal character.” The curve of his mouth couldn’t be helped, delighting in spoiling this man's gesture. “Lose.”

“Lose?” Lucerys balked incredulously. “What would losing prove?”

“Everything,” he answered, not skipping a beat. “Losing is a much keener test of your love — and,” Aemond raised his voice over blustering protests, “Losing would contradict your self-love. If you wish to convince me, bastard, prove your love for me is above all other victories.”

Huffing, Lucerys turned to stare at the ground and shook his head. “You would truly be so cruel?”

Aemond stepped closer until they were toe-to-toe, his teeth practically showing. 

“Show your obedience to your so-called love and lose, Lucerys.” 

Still red in the face, Luke appeared more furious than cockstruck now.

“So, Lord Strong,” Aemond prodded, “What say you?”

They stood silent as he watched the muscles in Luke’s jaw clenching, the cogs in his head turning and could practically hear the whine he wished to let out.

 

“No,” Luke grit between his teeth eventually, too prideful and defiant in this, “I will not humiliate myself for such a heartless cunt like you.”

Aemond hummed. Inexplicably, the joy in this provocation dimmed.

“Then you do not love me.”

[bookish-nerd-1130]

I’m sorry but

Cardan from TFOTA + Jest from Heartless = AMAZING

JUST THINK ABOUT IT

Cardan loves Alice in wonderland (or has at least read it)

he’d be entertained by Jest and would likely want him for his court

And jest would be BEWILDERED LIKE “?? Uh… Your majesty? What do you mean, I’m from a book?”

I NEED TO SEE THIS, PEOPLE

[raspberrybirb]

Jest and Raven from Heartless 🃏🦅 (Gboard doesn't have a raven so eagle it is 💀)

[emmyrosee]

doodoo fart pt2! what are we up to AGAIN to break Rin's composure in front of the olympic team? LOL

doodoo fart 🦨 pspspsps

SENT oh god

doodoo fart 🦨 come home 🥺💔

He’s been gone maybe two hours tops.

It’s not like he had intentions to leave you so early, but he had no choice! It was boys night, and while he’d fully expected to drive himself to the bar, Komori and Aran pulled up almost two hours early to grab him.

Kidnapping, as you’d so eloquently put it.

And for the first few hours, you’d left him be. He felt relaxed knowing you were probably doing your own thing, barely thinking about him.

Until now, of course.

SENT baby I’ll be home soon, okay

You can be good for me, yeah?

doodoo fart 🦨 no :(

SENT damn near saw that coming

doodoo fart 🦨 bro i know right

why would you even ask tf

He chuckles before he sends one more assurance that he’d be coming home soon, but it takes merely four minutes after that for his phone to start buzzing in his pocket.

doodoo fart 🦨 is calling…

“Sorry guys; boss of me is calling,” he says dramatically, turning his head slightly to pick up the phone.

“Hey stink.”

“HI BABY!” You cheer happily on the other end, and he chuckles in the receiver. “What you doin?”

“I’m with the boys, booger,” he says softly, smiling at your excitement. “About to wrap up dinner, you want me to get you anything?”

“You,” You whine, and he sighs in defeat. “I mith you…”

Shit. Baby voices. You dirty rat.

He swallows back a snicker, “I’ll be home soon. I promise.”

“Nnngh, I miss you!” You repeat, more dramatic than the last time. His eye twitches. He knows what you want, and he hates you for it.

“I can’t do that,” he groans lowly, turning his head away. “I’m out. In public!”

“Mmm! Bubby!! I miss you!” You whine, and there’s an absolute conflict in his head right now. “Miss your face, and I miss your nose, and I wanna bite your fingers… wanna sniff your hair, wanna live in your skin.”

Because yeah, okay, he could absolutely say no and hang up the phone. But he’s not going to, because clearly you’re getting his attention and a reaction you wanted and your persistence is admirable, at best.

“I love you too, baby-“

“Nnng LOUDER!”

He sighs in defeat at your adorable- albeit heartless- pestering, all the while he feels his teammates eyes boring into the back of his head; he lowers his voice enough for the other restaurant patrons, but there’s no escaping the judgement of his teammates.

“I mith you too, baby!” He coos back, and you giggle happily on the other end. The surrounding table goes completely silent, and he can feel the multiple pairs of eyes boring into the back and side of his head. “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” you say, and he can hear the pout over the phone.

“Okay- I love you, I love you! I love you.”

“I wuv you too.”

“See you soon, baby.”

“Okay… bye Rinnie.”

“Buh-bye.”

He clicks the red hangup button. Then, he screws his eyes shut before he slowly turns to the booth of athletes, who are absolutely silent and looking at him with cocked, confused brows.

“What’re you looking at?” He snaps, and no one says anything before Sakusa clears his throat.

“Nothing… but we sure did mith you, Rinnie.”

The rest of the team absolutely explodes in laughter, all in jest and no real judgement, and Rintaro can’t fight the smile as he hangs in his head in faux shame, his cheeks hot and face burying in his hands.

“I’m gonna break up with them. Swear to god,” he grumbles from behind his hands.

Aran claps him on the back, “tell that to the fat rock in your drawer.”

based on this video bc I’m unoriginal and Michelle and Andy are my parents

[cloudseeker14]

Late Spring (Scaramouche x GN!Reader)

Pairing : Scaramouche x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: The Balladeer's heart had always been a closed door but you'd managed to throw it open. Your love, though he never knew how to return it, was like warm sunlight kissing his skin. Yet, good things never last, do they?

Love. 

A word that shook the heart of every creature with tumultuous yearning, the subject of bards in every drinking den across Teyvat. 

Scaramouche could only scoff at the ridiculous notion. Love could never be true, not within the boundaries of a wretched, heartless world where emotions were a source of disdain. 

Not in a realm where his tears meant being cast aside, a creature as noble as him was supposed to be as steadfast as the mountains that slumbered in stone. 

Especially not in a world where you couldn’t exist. 

Scaramouche downed a bottle of whiskey, leaning against the headrest of his velvet armchair as he relished the burning sensation of the drink running down his throat. 

The stinging tethered him to this pathetic plane of existence, fastening the strings of his limbs to the earth as he attempted to fly away to the heavens. 

He could still remember that night, the wind had felt frigid on his porcelain skin as bonfires reached up to the sky. 

The fatui had been rejoicing, their hoarse cries of victory at the thought of another pesky obstacle in their path being tossed into oblivion. 

Yet, all he could see was you, all thoughts of merrymaking cast aside at the sight of your bright laughter. The sound of your joy had been a gentle breeze, blowing the cobwebs and opening the windows to sunlight in his heart. 

You’d drunk yourself to a slobbering mess, stumbling around as you jested with your peers. Scaramouche swirled his cup of cherry red wine, positively relishing the blush that coloured your face when you met his eyes.

After a couple of hours of painstaking formalities with the other harbingers, The Balladeer couldn’t help the groan that escaped from his throat as the gathering cleared,leaving him all alone with the stars and his mind.

His accursed mind, tormented with the sights of eras long gone.

He could practically see those cruel violet eyes in front of him, mercilessly casting him down from the heavens as he writhed in the air.

Scaramouche shuddered, breathing shakily, the silence penetrating the nooks of his heart.

Just as he was about to return to his quarters, he’d felt a tap on his shoulder.

The harbinger whirled around, only to be greeted by your charming face.

“I wouldn’t have come for this banquet if you were only going to keep staring at me.” You smiled, clasping his hands

If any other soul had done that simple action, it would have warranted instant death but what could Scaramouche say, in your hands he’d always been putty.

You stared at Scaramouche, eyes raking over the way the moonlight lit his porcelain features.

The way his clear blue eyes seemed to hold the depth of all the oceans of Teyvat itself.

The way that soft smile making its way into the corners of his lips had your heart bursting into flames.

“I missed you.” He muttered

“Hmm, what was that again?” You smirked, snaking your arm around his waist

“Don’t test me.” Scaramouche gritted, but the growing grin on his face said otherwise.

The two of you sat between the tall blades of grass, the birds chirped softy as a shooting star whizzed past.

“Did you see that!? Scaramouche, please tell me you saw it!” You cheered, your eyes practically about to fall from their sockets.

You were radiant, a source of such pure vividness that even someone as vile as him couldn’t shun away from.

“Yeah.” Scaramouche said, staring at you as he traced the lines of your palm. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Deep inside you both knew he didn’t mean the star.

“Y/N.” The harbinger called, gently laying his head on your shoulder.

You stiffened, your heartbeat echoing in your ears as his cold breaths fanned your neck.

“You’ll stay with me, right? Always?”

“Always.”

“Once I get that gnosis, you’ll have to be the one by my side,” He confessed, biting the inside of his cheek “It can never be anyone other than you.”

“Whether you have the gnosis or not makes no difference to me, but if it makes you happy, I’ll stay by your side as long as you want me to be there.”

Scaramouche could swear that a strange warmth seemed to blossom in his chest, but that would remain a thought for him to ponder during a freezing, lonely night.

You placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. “I love you.” You whispered

Scaramouche nodded, closing his eyes. What else could he say? How could a creature like him, a broken puppet with neither a heart nor strong will, be able to understand the intensity of your words?

You knew you would never hear it back but that was fine, it would just be a silent prayer you’d utter to him each day. You didn’t need that simple sentence to understand how he felt, as long as you could still see that gleam in his eyes when he looked at you, you knew you had nothing to worry about.

It was love, Scaramouche just hadn’t understood it yet.

—

With you in his life, Scaramouche knew he was invincible, nothing could stop him anymore. 

He was no longer that fragile creature, sobbing and wailing, he was going to be a god.

The gnosis was so close to falling within his grasp that Scaramouche could practically taste victory on the tip of his tongue. 

Yet, all those thoughts fell apart into dust fluttering in the wind at the sight of you on the ground, your skin devoid of it’s warmth. 

Hair clung to forehead, drenched in blood as you pitifully covered the gaping hole in your stomach. 

“S-scaramouche,“ You called, feebly reaching for the man you were bound to leave 

“Who did this to you!?“ Scaramouche bellowed, cupping your face

A whimper escaped his lips at the coldness of your body and with every second that passed, Scaramouche swore he could see the light fading from your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t make it through.“ You felt warm tears falling upon your arm and you forced yourself to look at Scaramouche, the bottom of your lip trembling as the harbinger stifled his sobs. 

“I won’t let you die!“ He bellowed, tightening his grip on you. You weakly shook your head as your vision blurred. 

“I love you, Scaramouche. D-don’t forget me.“

No. 

No. 

It couldn’t be you. 

Another betrayal, another mar upon his frivolous existence. 

You grasped his arm tightly, hopelessly trying to hold on to the last embers of life within you just to not leave the man before you ablaze in rage. 

But alas, the archons had other plans, and you shut your eyes; blissfulness washing over you. 

Scaramouche would have followed you to the ends of the world but at that moment, you’d slipped away to a paradise he’d never be able to reach. 

“I love you too."

Those were the words that escaped Scaramouche’s lips, only to be heard by the stars. 

He knew what love meant now. 

It was you. 

It was your touch, the comfort you'd ushered him into.

It was the web of passion he had allowed himself to be foolishly woven into.

You, the one who’d made him have a heart by giving yours even though he’d done nothing to deserve such a boon. 

Scaramouche couldn’t help but bawl your name, the wind carrying the puppet’s rage across Teyvat and to the archons. 

The world shouldn't be the same without you, it should have been torn apart in flames that should tower the mightiest pantheon, stifling every creature with smoke.

A world without you had no right to have even a glimmer of beauty.

Scaramouche remained rooted in place, the facade of the ruthless harbinger shattering into pieces, leaving only a wailing child stuck in the body of a man crying for the loss of his only salvation.