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saintobio · 2 years ago

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sincerely yours. (8)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, mentions of cheating, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, explicit smut

series masterlist -> episode nine

9:21 AM.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of your index finger drumming a slow and steady cadence against the table was nearly in perfect synchronization to the tick tock of the clock above the wall behind you. An icy, uninviting atmosphere was the best way to describe the current situation inside the conference room at this time of the morning, with the gelid detachment between the boss and her employees as you built a wall—an impenetrable wall—around yourself to keep the inner turmoil you had in your head.

So, you listened. You succumbed to silence as a result.

“I’d like to present this new idea that we, along with the ecommerce team, have come up with to increase engagement on our website.” Even as the marketing manager started to speak, you remained frigid. “We did go through some feedback that people have been posting online and they’re mostly saying that the current web theme is too plain and that they’re hoping to see a more engaging website, so we would love to propose some ideas that could improve Hearte’s overall online presence. We know that keeping the brand’s look consistent is very important, especially now that Hearte is still establishing its own name in the fashion industry, and we have currently done a phenomenal job with our brand style. However, as the online website is our visual storefront, not only is its functionality critical, but we also have to ensure that the web design is in line with our aesthetics.”

9:26 AM.

You leaned back on your chair with your arms crossed, looking up to speak to the manager from across the conference room. “Let’s keep the unnecessary introduction short and just go straight to the point,” you strictly announced, receiving curious eyes in return as it was their first time seeing you becoming all stern and unamused. Such an odd sight to see from a boss who used to have the brightest of sunshines reflecting on her smile. “What’s the proposal?”

The marketing manager cleared her throat and moved her presentation onto the next slide. “Yes, Ms. Y/N. So… uh, based on the data that you can see on the screen, our online sales increased by 15% for the past two weeks, but we still have about 10% of shoppers abandoning their shopping carts. Earlier this week, we set up email campaigns and social reminders to decrease our abandonment rate and urge shoppers to return to their carts. While working with the IT team, we did some A/B testing to determine which version would drive our business metrics. We’ve also reached out to The Society Management and added Kendall Jenner to our PR list so that possibly, in the future, we can get her as a model for our landing page and attract the western market,” she continuously explained in a manner to convince you of how much effort their department was doing to increase Hearte’s sales, “But what we believe could bring a tremendous improvement on our website engagement is by introducing style guides. This will capture the interest of the audience now that they can mix and match some outfits based on their own style, and—”

9:32 AM.

Sigh.

“Ms. Ono, I have to be honest, but I expected more from you,” you cut her off by leaving a frank comment on her presentation, “Fashion brands have been doing style guides for years. You make it sound like it’s unique, but it’s nothing new. How sure are we that it will actually bring a dramatic improvement on our website engagement? I doubt most of them would even browse through it.”

“Well, uh…” The marketing manager faltered, glancing at the head of the social media team for some help, which she didn’t end up receiving. “I think it’ll work the way we want it to as long as we introduce engaging copies that make buyers fall in love with the designs.”

“You think?” You criticized her word of choice. “Ms. Ono, I gave you enough time to brainstorm with your team, so the moment you step inside of this conference room, you should have prepared whatever strategy you had in mind. I don’t settle for ambitious words like ‘I think’ or ‘I believe’. I want to hear a proposal that’s original, unique, and captivating. I want you to be a hundred percent sure that you know what you’re doing before you waste everyone’s time like this. Do you understand? Am I being clear? I want a proposal that would definitely get us somewhere and not just by assuming we will.”

Were you being too harsh? They said that the fashion industry in itself was harsh, so what was so surprising about seeing you being strict, candid, and business-like? This was the nature of your job. This was normal.

9:47 AM.

Very timidly did Nobara raise her hand beside you to chime in on the discussion. “I know I’m not in the position to make suggestions, but…” She pressed something on her laptop before carefully sliding it to your side of the table, showing you what appears to be a classic early 2000s ‘dress-up game’ with a base model and a selection of outfits that were inspired by your designs. “I just wanted to show you this, Ms. Y/N. I do agree with Ms. Ono’s idea to introduce style guides, but maybe we can do it in an interactive way. I know the dress-up game idea may look childish and unsophisticated, but I was kinda hoping that we can just make certain adjustments so that it could match Hearte’s classy and simplistic style. We can have base models in different body types and skin tones to show our brand’s diversity, then we can have shoppers try dressing them up using the outfits on our current collection. That allows them to easily visualize how the pieces would look on a certain skin tone and body type.”

The way everyone else in that conference table looked at Nobara was very obvious that they were expecting you to reprimand her for even having the guts to offer such a farcical idea. What does she know? They were probably thinking that. You’re just an intern. You knew they were saying that in their minds. On the other hand, you surprisingly liked her proposal and enjoyed the unique idea of introducing it to the website because her proposal actually did make sense. People would be curious, people would try it out by interacting with the website, and that means the engagement would rise up.

“I like that idea. We can go with that,” you said, sliding the laptop back to her while nodding at the marketing and social media managers, “I need the team to discuss Nobara’s idea further and polish it thoroughly before we can start adding it onto the website. Make adjustments as needed and ensure that everything is still in line with our brand. If you notice any flaws with this proposal, you can flag them with me and I’ll review them.”

9:54 AM.

Just as you were about to wrap up the meeting, a certain someone entered the conference room in haste—panting out of breath with her long, wavy hair and creased red pants. “I’m so sorry, I’m late.”

Her casualness made you clench your jaws tightly, fueling the fire to your already terrible day. You could no longer stop yourself from unleashing your rage as you looked up at her with a critical squint. “Ms. Hirai, what time’s it?”

“It’s ten, I know. I’m so sorry,” she repeated her apologies and paid an apologetic bow to everyone in the meeting room, “I’m sorry, everyone. I was caught up in heavy traffic today.”

You let out a silent scoff and ignored her compunctious act. “How long are we gonna keep using that excuse, really?” you questioned her, earning the intrigued eyes of your employees who were all sensing the sudden tension between you and your best friend, “As the fashion merchandiser and my second-in-command, you should’ve been here in this meeting with me, but where were you? You anticipated that there would be heavy traffic, yet you couldn’t be responsible enough in coming to work early knowing that we have a meeting? Or was it because you’re too busy doing other things so you’re no longer interested in showing up to work on time?”

Akemi shook her head, contritely. “It’s… It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” Your icy stare bored into her. No trace of compassion was present in your eyes. “I’m sure you’re living a very blissful life outside of work and I’m glad you are, but is that also why you don’t bother with anything else anymore?”

“Y/N—”

“Miss Y/N,” you corrected, “I’m your boss, so treat me like one.”

Wide, chocolate brown eyes greeted you in response. It was clear that she was at a loss of words and could only repeat her meaningless apologies a thousand times. “I’m really sorry, Ms. Y/N. It won’t happen again.”

“You didn’t even let me know that you’ll be coming in late,” you continued and ignored the pitiful expression on her face, focusing on her swollen red lips and her dewy, rosy cheeks. She must have had a really good morning to look like a cherry blossom on a spring day. Was she so preoccupied being all lovey dovey with your ex-husband this morning? Did she sleep comfortably on the same marital bed you used to share with him? Your jaw tensed visibly. “You’re just coming in whenever you want. You don’t respect people’s time. You don’t respect my rules. You don’t respect me.”

Yes, you were overreacting by taking things too personally and it was the reason why you got up from your seat and bolted out of the conference room upon realizing your unusual outburst. You could hear the clicking sound of your stiletto echoing across the corridor as you stomped towards your office, swinging the glass door open and heading straight towards the ceiling-to-floor window to have some peace of mind. Peace? How ridiculous. How could you find peace? You couldn’t even grasp the fact that your best friend was acting like everything was normal. You couldn’t understand why she was rubbing her relationship to your face as if she wasn’t just a placeholder to somebody’s ex wife.

“Y/N?” Akemi’s voice cut you out of your toxic trail of thoughts—your mouth thinning with displeasure while you didn’t bother turning around to meet her gaze. Breathe. You had to breathe and think rationally. “I…I understand you’re really angry right now, but I was hoping we can have this much needed talk.”

You could feel her reaching for your hand at the height of your frustration and your defensive instinct led you to angrily swing your arm away, accidentally hitting her cheek as you pivoted on your heel to face her. It took two seconds for your eyes to shift from glaring in frustration to widening in surprise after seeing the small cut your diamond ring left on her cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, no, it’s fine,” she insisted with her palm pressed onto the right side of her face. “I deserved it.”

Good lord. What was happening to you? Despite having all these unspoken rage and unresolved conflicts between the two of you, you would still drop everything and be concerned for her. You would still let your walls collapse. You were the villain that couldn’t stick to being a villain. Why? Why did you feel this way? Was it because you knew she wasn’t technically doing anything wrong? Or was it because you were just projecting your personal frustrations onto her? Was betrayal really the issue here? Or was it the huge possibility that she could in fact be Gojou’s one true love? You had thought of this before, but the same questions in your head never stopped. And never did they stop from invading your headspace as you made your way towards the small fridge to grab an ice pack that you soon offered to Akemi, leading her to one of the couches while finally coming into your senses.

Yet there was silence and nothing but awkward silence when you two sat at a safe distance from each other.

“I’m shameless.” She was the first one to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. “I know you’re thinking that and I do agree with you. I really am shameless to even look you in the eye right now.”

You sighed and looked away, only to keep yourself from the furnace of pain that you had been bottling inside. “Stop. You’re making me seem like a villain right now. I’m tired of seeing myself this way.”

She closed her legs and sat humbly, reaching forward to squeeze your hand. “You’re not. You’re not a villain and you never were,” said the same woman you accidentally smacked a few minutes ago, “I understand why you would feel a certain way towards me. I’d even understand if you hate me so much that you wanna murder me. I’m your best friend and I know about your history with Satoru, yet here I am seeing your ex-husband behind your back. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t plan it. I truly didn’t. Even though you’re not together anymore and I’m technically not homewrecking anyone, I’m still putting us—you and I—in a really awkward position. You didn’t deserve any of that and I’m very sorry.”

At least, she was self-aware. But looking at the brighter side of things, you were getting calmer now that you were hearing her side of the story, though that didn’t stop you from feeling any less horrible. “I don’t really care who you date,” you claimed, adamantly, “And I most definitely do not care who Satoru chooses to date. We’ve been divorced for three years.”

“It’s still not right that I’m seeing him.” She let her guilt speak up for her.

And you let your resentment speak for you. “Then, why him of all people?”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?”

“Y-Yeah…”

You decided to keep a straight face. “How did this happen?”

Akemi looked as if you had just forced her to be on the hot seat because of the apathy on your visage. “It was a drunken mistake at first and we kinda just…”

“I’m not asking about when you two started fucking,” you replied, bluntly. Something you had never done before in your usual sophisticated vocabulary. “I’m asking when you realized you have feelings for him. When did you fall in love with him?”

She had trouble finding the right answer. “It just happened. I d-don’t really know. Whenever you asked me to look after him, I guess the bond he and I developed from that made me see him in a different light.”

You disregarded the pain in your chest and let the volcano explode on its own, because her answer only meant that she was already growing feelings for your ex-husband at the same time you were confiding to her about him. That was the worst part of it all.

“Why do you like him?” you questioned further, “Despite knowing what happened while I was married to him, why did you still end up falling in love with him? If that’s so hard to answer, then don’t think about us or me or our friendship. Just think about the decisions you made for yourself. Why are you with Satoru?”

Her gaze found the floor. Hesitance. Guilt. Shame. Those emotions were all dancing in her eyes in a complete roundabout. While she took a moment to fully reassess her decision, you weren’t sure if you deserved to still feel hurt when she gave you an honest answer. “When I met Satoru, I didn’t meet the toxic, cheating ex-husband that he was known for,” she said, slowly, “I met a man who holds such a high respect for his ex-wife, adores his son like his greatest gift of all, and values his marriage more than anything else in this world. I met a vulnerable man who isn’t afraid to open his heart to strangers. A man who gave me emotional support even when he’s the one who needed it the most. I… It’s hard to explain, but…”

Was there really anything left to say? Her point was clear, and your silence while she was speaking was more so because you were trying not to let the tiny pricks in your heart affect you further than it already did. The fullness of her voice and the way her eyes shined when she talked about him were enough to tell you that your best friend had truly fallen in love and you would be cruel to take that away from her. Even from him. They would not have been involved in such an intimate relationship if there had been no attraction between them to begin with, so then… Why did it feel like you were being cheated on? She was no Sera, and he was not the Satoru that only used you for his corporate ambitions. It was just Akemi and Satoru—they were each other’s right person at the right time. The only thing blocking their path to a loving relationship was you.

You. The irrational and spiteful ex-wife. The ex-wife who always played the ‘victim card’. The selfish ex-wife who wanted all the good things to only come her way.

Well, god be damned, because you were beginning to confuse yourself with the version of you that wasn’t even remotely like you at all. She was just a mirrored image of yourself that you thought people perceived.

“You can do what you want.” The moment you spoke again, you were already creating a huge wall between you and your best friend, making sure that there were boundaries that none of you should ever cross now that she had chosen to be with someone you had sincerely loved in the past. It may sound like you were letting go, but truth be told, you just didn’t think that you even had the option to hold onto anything. Satoru wasn’t yours and you weren’t his anymore. You were two individuals living separate lives. “If you wanna be with him, that’s your choice. I don’t plan on intervening. It just… just really surprised me that you didn’t have the decency to tell me at all.”

Akemi nodded, apologetically desperate. “I understand how you’re feeling and I’m sorry. I really, truly am sorry, Y/N.” Her voice and her countenance did show the genuineness in her plea to be forgiven, but you were too numb to feel anything else. “I hope we can stay friends despite everything.”

How could you even stay friends in a situation like this?

First option was to keep pretending that their relationship wasn’t bothering you. Second option was to focus on your own relationship with Toji to the point where everything else just didn’t matter anymore.

Yeah, you thought. You could certainly choose the latter.

“Our friendship isn’t my top priority at the moment,” was your straightforward response to her, “I wanna focus on my son and his relationship with his father. That’s all.”

Any regular person would have thought: ‘Wow, Y/N. You handled that well.’ ‘You’re so mature.’ ‘You’re a lot calmer than we expected.’ The thing was, you really did think that you had been way too calm about it. In spite of the scene you caused at the conference room, or the dramatic exchange you had with Akemi in your office, you still handled it much better than one would think. In TV shows or movies, the ex-wife would have dragged the best friend to the ground, slapped her face, pulled her hair, started a nasty catfight, and called her all the terrible labels you could think of. Look, part of you wanted to do that. And the other part of you—the sympathetic, altruistic part of you—thought you shouldn’t do that. You would only look pathetic.

Of all the negative things Satoru had made you feel over the course of your failure of a marriage, this aftermath was probably the toughest.

You just weren't in the right state of mind to justify why.

You also couldn’t justify why you had been looking for unhealthy ways to cope with stress and anxiety. If anyone from your family saw you standing at the smoking area near the parking lot right now, they would have given you an earful of how you must be out of your mind for even putting a cigarette stick between your lips. How exactly could tobacco be good for you? You would say, first of all, that nicotine does in fact cause pleasant feelings to distract you from unpleasant ones. You couldn’t find any other way to relax your mind any faster than one cigarette stick could. Besides, staying in the office and seeing Akemi around was getting too suffocating and you couldn’t afford to have your negative mood lingering in your mind for the rest of the day. One stick wouldn’t hurt. Another one wouldn’t, too. And another one should be fine, right?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The irony. You didn’t even have the time to recoil before the main cause of your stress showed up in front of you, frowning after he snatched the cigarette stick out of your lips. He was quick to throw it to the ground, stomp on it like he would do with your heart, and give you a questioning look that made you scoff at the ridiculousness of this situation. This could be a dream for heaven’s sake. Or a hallucination. There was no way Satoru Gojou would be standing right in front of you just as you were thinking about him.

“Since when have you been doing this?” he questioned again, holding your wrist this time to make you realize that his presence or this interaction wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. It would have been better that way, but the reality was, Satoru was there and he wasn’t the least bit pleased. “I know you’re mad at me and this isn’t the right time for me to chew you out like this, but…” he paused, taking your cigarette pack. “I can’t believe you’re fucking smoking right now, Y/N. Did you get this habit from Toji?”

Okay. Gojou could be way out-of-line sometimes, but this was the apex of it.

“Don’t bring Toji into this,” you snapped back, shooting him a glare that could easily kill. “What are you doing here?”

You could see how deep his inhale was just by the loudness of his sigh after it. His face showed a combination of yearning, regret, frustration, and pity as if he was deciding which emotion should dominate him more. But among the multitude of emotions that were drowning him right now like a tidal wave, he looked all the more exhausted. Whether it was dealing with you, trying to make amends with you, or simply being around you—you could tell that he wanted to drop his constant need to care for you because it was beginning to tire him out.

He didn’t really answer your question, and instead, asked one of his own. “Are you smoking because of stress?” he asked, trying to mask the sympathy in his eyes. “It’s bad for you. Set a good example for Sachiro.”

You’re bad for me, you wanted to say. Why did it even matter to him, anyway? You were nothing more than just a mother to his child. Anything outside that role was completely not his business anymore. The fact that he was even within the vicinity of your office was ridiculous, because you were already having a bad day and his presence was adding further into it. “Don’t you dare talk about setting a good example to my son like you’re so righteous yourself.”

“Y/N, come on.” He reached for your hand once more as if trying to show how much he cared or how worried he was with what you were doing to yourself because of him. “I don’t want you to—”

“Keep your fucking distance, Gojou. You’re not in the place to give a damn about me anymore,” you raged, withdrawing your wrist and breathing heavily as you tried to keep yourself from further exploding. You would have. You were so close to cursing him off, but you saw the flash of pure shock in his eyes, and that was how you realized what you just did. All these violent reactions, these unusual outbursts—these were not you. This was not the meek, soft-spoken ex-wife that he was once married to.

“Toru?”

Unfortunately, Gojou no longer had enough attention span to listen when he looked away, only to turn to his new woman with a genuinely worried expression painted on his face as soon as he saw her coming out of the building with a hand on her cheek. You realized that he was actually here to pick her up and was doing everything that a caring boyfriend would; checking every inch of her face to see how bad she was hurt and asking her what happened and whether she was okay. You didn’t know how to react the moment he turned back to you with his tired, yet passively accusatory eyes. “Did something happen?”

You knew that his question actually translated to: ‘Did you slap her?’ With your thorough knowledge about his acquired trauma from physical violence, you felt the sudden need to clear your name, but you didn’t know if you should be grateful that it was already your best friend who did the part in doing such. “Nothing happened. It was an accident.” Her tone was almost begging before she started tugging his arm. “Let’s just go, please.”

Satoru didn’t want to let it go, but decided that it was best to just leave it be as he glanced at you with a slightly detached gaze. “I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he reminded, referring to the dreaded New York trip together with Sachiro.

A conflicted look from him and an apologetic gaze from her. That was all that you received before they got inside the car and left you alone and miserable in that parking lot. You watched his car fade into view with her on the passenger seat and him probably holding her hand as he drove through the street. Just when you thought you could actually stomach the sight of him and her together, it would be a big fat lie to say that it didn’t sting. It stung worse than the times he ran after Sera than to stay behind with you. Worse than when he used to treat you like a mistress rather than a wife.

You must be going crazy, indeed. Who in their right mind would cry over her ex-husband in the middle of the parking lot? Why would you even shed tears when you were the one who wanted him to find someone else and move on? This was becoming a never-ending loop because you were letting yourself be affected by it. It shouldn’t be that way. Never.

“Toji.” You were doing your hardest to conceal the weakness in your voice as you pressed your phone into your right ear. “I-I need you… right now. Please.”

“Hey, I was just about to pick-up Sachi from daycare. Is everything okay?”

Wiping your eyes, you looked at the dull skies wondering if the universe was trying to reflect all these emotions running inside of you. “Yeah… Can you come soon?”

He didn’t really hesitate to answer, quickly understanding that he had to drop everything else right now and be with you. “Alright, I’ll be there.”

Satoru was conflicted, but he didn’t know what exactly made him feel that way. Was it because he saw you smoking in the parking lot? Or was it because he could tell that you gave Akemi a tongue-lashing after catching her half-naked at the penthouse a few days ago? Either way, both options were not very you. And he couldn’t understand why you were slowly starting to look less and less like the person he knew, which was confusing on his part because you had been adamant on telling him to forget about you. You were rigid on your decision to not let him enter your life as your husband for the second time around. He told you he still loved you, but you said you loved another. He told you he wanted to work things out and make your family complete again, but you said you were already doing that with someone else. Gojou knew his hands weren’t clean and the reason you may be acting that way was because out of all the women he could have been with, it had to be Akemi Hirai. Your best friend. Your confidante. Your business partner. She was a territory he shouldn’t have crossed, yet he did.

But, at the same time, she was the only person who had been there for him during his lowest. She was the company he needed when his heart was the loneliest. He couldn’t even remember the amount of times she came to his aid when he was crying over his memories of you, memories that he could no longer hold onto. Akemi brought peace to his heart, and if there was anyone else he could be with, it would be her.

It was becoming more and more clear to him how he felt about her.

Although, voicing that out loud was a different story. Keeping it in his thoughts was for the best because he didn’t want to lead Akemi on. She didn’t deserve that nor did she deserve to feel like a substitute for someone else. He wanted to be a hundred percent sure about being with her before he could fully confess his real feelings for her. It could still develop through time, perhaps far better and more passionate than what he was sharing with her right now, but until then, settling for what they had at this moment in time was for the better. What was important was that both parties were clear about diving into this relationship.

He wasn’t ready for commitment and she understood that. She was willing to wait for him. She was helping him move on in the least painful way. Where else could he meet such a person like her?

She was gentle, motherly, sensitive, and intuitive. She was classy and sophisticated. She knew how to dress nicely. Her nails were always clean and pretty. Her smile was very charming. Her laugh, endearing. She was the perfect woman anyone could have.

“Why’d you suddenly want to go to the mall?” she asked, intertwining their hands together as she looked up at him with her beautiful doe eyes. Her question made him cut out of his trance, remembering that they were strolling around the galleria.

He touched the small wound on her cheek as if stroking it could make it heal faster. “Nothing,” he said. “Just a last minute idea.”

Truthfully, Gojou wasn’t sure why he had brought her there. All he knew was that he had a lot going on in his mind while he was driving through the city and the next thing he knew, he was already pulling up at the galleria out of his natural instinct. But since they were already there, he might as well buy her a little something. Anything. And then his eyes caught sight of Chanel as if the high-end boutique was pulling his feet with such gravity that it led him to go inside the store while hand-in-hand with the woman next to him.

“Mr. Gojou, how are you?”

Right. The staff knew him so well, especially for the amount of times he had been there with his ex-wife when you two were still married.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” One of the familiar ladies that used to assist you approached him with a lingering stare towards Akemi. “Perhaps for your…?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, can you… uh,” he turned towards the rack of tweed sets, “Do you have any new collections?”

“Yes, absolutely,” said another lady, “Right this way, sir.”

It was easy to notice how the staff were exchanging glances at the sight of Satoru and Akemi together, but his mind was far too distracted by the nostalgia of being in that place alone to even care about his surroundings. All he did was look back at Akemi and encourage her to try out the newest collections that they had, thinking that she was oblivious about what was going through his head. “You go and pick whatever you like.”

Although she was clearly not used to it, Akemi did eventually try on some of the outfits he specifically had chosen for her. They were Chanel’s signature tweed sets that he always found to be very elegant, and he definitely wasn’t wrong that they would suit her when she came out of the dressing room to show him how the clothes wrapped her small frame perfectly.

He could see your smile through her face, your excitement when you tried the outfits on, and the shine in your eyes when you looked at yourself in the mirror. Except, Gojou had to remind himself that you weren’t her. That his mind was just messing with him.

No, this was wrong. Why was he thinking about you while he was with her?

He had to have some sort of distraction. Something so tangible that all of his senses would go numb.

The one way he was able to overcome that dilemma was by sharing yet another steamy exchange with Akemi later that night. He couldn’t remember who initiated first, but it must have been the equal desire that they had for each other when they dove straight into a heated makeout session the moment they stepped inside his bedroom. One thing led to another. First he was kissing her lips, then her collarbones, then her inner thighs—devouring her completely with his lust-driven actions, doing the most by pleasuring her body using his own.

She was a giver just as she was a receiver. Not that he didn’t expect her to be so experienced when it came to sex, but she definitely knew what she was doing without any guidance from him. Perhaps he just wasn’t used to it anymore. Perhaps he had just forgotten how it felt to have sex with someone who didn’t rely on him to initiate the next steps they should do. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone stared at his eyes while putting his hardened member inside her mouth the way she did. She knew her power over him while at his most vulnerable state, ruining his masculine ego and destroying it with her own feminine pride.

And in the midst of their intimate session, Gojou was zoning out while he was sliding a condom across his shaft, ready to enter her from the back. His mind was giving him a flash of memory, not a distant but recent one from two days ago.

“I still can’t believe you did that, Mom. You’re being ridiculous.”

His mother wasn’t exactly showing the slightest hint of regret on her face despite knowing full well that sending the custody claim almost made you lose your mind. She was keeping a straight face as she sat on the barstool next to him, taking a sip of wine from her glass while he, on his own, was downing a glass of scotch. “She had it coming.”

Satoru sighed his frustration away. “Don’t do that again or today’s the last time you’ll ever see me.”

“What are you talking about?” His mother frowned. “Who was there for you when you were trying to end your own life because of the lies she told you, huh? You’re feeling bad for her now, but did she feel bad for you back then? You missed three years of your son’s life because she was being too spiteful towards you.”

He had never met someone more stubborn than his own mother, but maybe this was a clear sign for Satoru to realize where he must have acquired that one similar trait of his. After all, people always made it seem that he was more like his dad even though he despised being compared to his father. To say that his mother was a complete angel was a lie. But neither was he. “Whatever, just don’t… Just leave Y/N alone. She’s still the mother of my child and I don’t want us to keep fighting. At least, for Sachi’s sake.”

His mother finished her glass of wine before turning the stool towards his direction. There was a minute of silence that passed between them before she spoke again. “I just don’t want you to get back with her, darling. You two are toxic together.”

Funny, because he could say the same thing for her and his father. “Well, it’s not gonna happen now. Y/N’s gonna hate me forever.”

“What, ‘cause she rejected you again?”

“No,” he countered, shaking his head and chugging all the remaining liquor on his glass. “She knows about the thing I have with Akemi now.”

Her mouth fell open, gasping as she did so. “Y-You… and Akemi? Are you together?”

Satoru expected this reaction from her, but didn’t think she would actually be more fixated on his new relationship than the effect it would bring on her ex-daughter-in-law. “It’s not something to be proud of, Mom.”

“Well, I’m proud of you,” she still stressed that fact, “It’s nice to hear that you’re finally moving on, Satoru. Y/N is not good for you, but I know Akemi will be. I like her and I know she’ll make you a lot happier than Y/N ever did.”

“You’re still awake?” Gojou let out a yawn as he felt the heaviness of his eyelids telling him that it was time to sleep. He tried checking the time on his phone, but realized that he still had the photo of you and Sachiro as his lockscreen. He wasn’t planning on changing it anytime soon, but considering that Akemi saw it, he was expecting that she would have something to say, yet nothing came out of her mouth. She simply stayed silent while laying on his chest, letting him touch the slope of her naked back as she slightly raised her head to meet his eyes. He had already closed his phone and placed it back on the nightstand. “What, did I not tire you enough?”

“Shut up.” She hid her reddened cheeks and smiled on the crook of his neck. Her hand was placed on his chest, fingers tracing his collarbones. “No, I’m just thinking about how you’re gonna manage New York and all.”

Satoru’s breathing was still for a few seconds, keeping his eyes glued on the ceiling as he held her on your marital bed. “You’re scared that the infamous cheater is gonna cheat on you or something?” he joked, a distasteful one, but still meant to ease whatever was burdening her mind. “Not gonna happen even if we’re in an open relationship.”

“That’s not it,” Akemi quickly replied, denying his claims, “I’m more like hoping that you’ll be patient with her. She gets angry a lot these days and we know we’re the main cause of it, so please. Please don’t try to argue with her, okay? If she says hurtful things, learn to understand her.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around her smaller frame. Gojou was certain that he was about to doze off soon now that he had closed his eyes and let the exhaustion pull him into a good night’s sleep. “I won’t,” he spoke his words slowly, drifting off to dreamland, “I won’t make her angry.”

“Okay.” He felt her lips kissing his jaw just before the both of them gradually matched the calmness of each other’s chest. One heart, one soul, two bodies. “Good night, ‘Toru.”

…

In the middle of his sleep, he mumbled, “Good night, Y/N.”

On the other side of the city, you woke up in the middle of your slumber, facing the handsome face of your fiancé, Toji Zen’in, who had already drifted off to dreamland while holding you in his muscular arms. No wonder people were jealous of you for having such a refined man like him in your bed every night you go to sleep. The thing was, you had no reason to feel discontented with your life since you already had everything. You were wealthier than the average person, you ran a business that you were passionate about, you had an adorable son who meant the world to you, and you had Toji. There was nothing else you could ask for. And if by remembering Sera’s words back then, you would be selfish to ask for anything more because others didn’t even have half the fortune you had.

So, in that sense, you should be happy.

You had to be happy.

You were happy, right?

“Go to sleep,” whispered a half-awake Toji, stirring from his sleep as he held your waist tighter like you were his comfort pillow. “You alright?”

Sighing inwardly, you traced the scar on his lips. “You’re so gorgeous.”

His lazy, boyish smile came into view. “I know that,” he joked, closing his eyes as if succumbing into a few more minutes of sleep. “Don’t tell me you’re turned on right now ‘cause I can go all night. Doggy. Missionary. Cowboy. Reverse cowboy.”

Were you? Maybe a little. And maybe you had to have a distraction from your ‘source of happiness’.

“That’s very naughty of you, Mr. Zen’in,” you replied, cheeks heating up from his vulgar words. Your hand was finding its way to his toned chest, while his were traveling to the curves of your waist and hips. You could feel him angling his body to make sure he had access to slide your underwear just a little above your knee, gliding his hand along your thigh before letting his fingers touch your sensitive bud. “T-Toji—”

A smirk appeared on his lips. “Hm? I thought you wanted this?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Y-Yeah, I…” There was no use holding back from moaning because his fingers knew how to move perfectly well, playing with your clit in circular motions before sliding two of them into your entrance. “...Fuck.”

“Feel good?” His hot breath tickled your neck, moving his mouth from your collarbones down to the valley between your breasts. “Wish you knew how delicious you are.”

Another moan, much louder this time around, escaped your lips when he attached his mouth onto your breast, sucking the round mass with his tongue doing God’s work. You were so high into sexual desire that your back arched on its own, dominated by the pleasing sensation all over your body. You could barely even respond to him when he started asking why your mood had been so down when he picked you up after work or why you still wouldn’t tell him whatever happened back there.

“It’s nothing,” you replied, disregarding the painful encounter you’ve had with your ex-husband and your best friend. “...Just work stuff.”

As you closed your eyes, you could feel Satoru’s fingers entering deep inside of you, deep enough to have reached your g-spot and have you moaning wildly. It felt unreal. It felt goddamn out of this world. But since Satoru was familiar with every inch of your body, his touch alone could easily send you to seventh heaven. He was heavenly. He was saintly. That mesmerizing gaze of his paired with his sky blue eyes and messy white hair. His beautiful, beautiful face, watching you beg for him to do more. More. More…

“Satoru…”

The intense feeling suddenly stopped, awakening you back to your senses as you opened your eyes and saw the dark, animalistic gaze of Toji Zen’in. “What’d you say?” he asked in a deep voice.

Out of panic, you slightly pulled away and shook your head. “N-Nothing. What did I say?”

“I thought I heard you say his…” he trailed off, pulling his fingers out of you and instead, placing a tight grip on your hip. “Did you?”

“No, no. Not at all.” Your voice came in a hushed tone, looking at his eyes intently. “Why would I do that?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, falling back into the bed with one arm under his head. “Don’t play games with me, Y/N.”

Desperation led you to climb on top of him, sitting on his crotch before encasing your lips with his soft ones. “I’m not,” you mumbled, kissing him again. “I never did. I promise.”

Yet, despite your attempts at inviting him for an open-mouthed kiss, he had already lost the interest to engage in sexual activities with you. He didn’t say anything nor tried to argue about the shit that you said, but he did stay silent for a couple of minutes, simply holding you on top of him without another word to utter. It scared you to think what was going through Toji’s mind, but this was also all your fault. Why, in the first place, did you even let your mind imagine that white-haired toxic ex-husband of yours when you had Toji Zen’in in front you?

Perhaps in this relationship, you were the toxic one.

You were the poison that could kill the life out of the man who only wanted to love and heal you.

“Toji, I’m sorry…”

He held his breath. “Should I be concerned that you’re going on a trip with him?”

“No, it’s…” Pulling away, you gave him a look of combined sincerity and denial. “We’re just gonna fix Sachiro’s papers, you know that. We won’t even be staying in the same room.”

Fixing Sachiro’s papers. Dealing with his dual citizenship. Changing his last name to Gojou. Solidifying your son’s identity as the son of Satoru Gojou. That’s all there is to it. All the technical matters.

“Is he staying at a hotel or are you letting him stay at your apartment in Manhattan?” he asked, although there was no hint of suspicion in his voice. Or at least, he must be good at hiding it.

You chose to be honest. “I have to let him stay at my apartment,” was your answer, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Only because Sachi wants his dad around all the time. We’re just trying our best to co-parent.”

Toji’s dry humor took over. “You sure you’re not gonna let him fuck you senseless?” His tone was laced with resentment. “And then you’ll come home to me crying about how he got you pregnant for the second time. You’d better kiss our marriage goodbye if that happens.”

“What kind of person do you think I am?” you retorted, annoyed by his word of choice as if you were a cheating scumbag. “If he’s gonna get someone pregnant, that won’t be me.”

His eyes sparked with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Deciding between telling and not telling, you figured that the latter would only cause more drama to bounce back at you like a boomerang. “He’s with Akemi.”

It looked like Toji didn’t hear it right. “Akemi? How’d that happen?”

“I don’t know what kinda relationship they have, okay?” you snapped, no longer wanting to keep up with this topic further. “I just caught them. They said they’re seeing each other, but it’s complicated or whatever—I don’t really give a damn. But he’s with her is all I know.”

Toji went silent for a few minutes, unable to determine whether he should find the situation pitiful or humorous. One thing for sure though, was that he found it unbelievable. “That son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, smiling in disbelief, “So this is what’s ruining your mood these days, huh?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in response. “It’s not.”

“Your ex-husband slept with your best friend. Yeah, I’d be mad, too.” His comment wasn’t really meant to irk you, but he successfully did so. Minus the intention. “Getting mad is understandable, getting jealous is questionable. Which one are you?”

Fuck it. “I said I’m not jealous. Will you stop now?” You sunk yourself under the covers, turning your back on Toji. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Now that he knew and you saw his reaction, you wondered what it would be like if Gen and Ian knew. Or if your dad knew. What would they think of Satoru? What would they think of Akemi? No, nevermind that. What would they think of you? Another fool in a deck of cards? Another game that was played with?

You didn’t want to know.

Ideally, you and Satoru really shouldn’t have gone to this New York trip together as if your family was still intact, because as much as you wished that that was true, you were far from that. You were only playing house for the sake of your son, but that also meant putting you in a painfully awkward situation together as ex-spouses. He had a girlfriend back home and you had a loving and loyal fiancé who proved the whole word that he was loyal to you. And although your respective partners were supporting the whole co-parenting situation, you knew by yourselves that this was nowhere to near to being comfortable for them, too.

“Everything okay?” You heard the familiar voice of your past, only to see his dull, blue eyes taking a peek at you.

“Yeah,” you replied, almost inaudibly. You just boarded the plane while Satoru was talking to the pilot, and found your spot on one of the beds in his private jet. It took a few minutes for him to get to where you were now. “Why?”

He shrugged, eyeing a sleepy Sachiro next to you. “Just wanna make sure you and Sachi are comfortable.”

You didn’t know what else to say, so you just looked back at your peaceful son who was hugging his elmo plush like the cute angel he was. Even though he was growing so fast, you could still remember how he was just as small as a puppy in your arms when he was first born. The memory of it caused you to press your lips on his forehead, caressing his soft, white hair. At some point while observing the scene, your son’s father thought it would be a good idea to slide the blanket further up your shoulders, acting as though he was only doing it to keep Sachiro warm. And later, he sat on the reclined airplane seat, drinking the coffee that was served to him by the stewardess.

It was crazy.

Crazy that Toji could be lying next to you and you would feel nothing. But Gojou was meters away from you and your mind was on a never-ending race.

Just before noon, the airplane landed safely at JFK airport and Satoru’s driver took you straight to Central Park Towers, treated like a V.I.P. by security just because your ex-husband was Japan’s third richest person and second most influential businessman. At times like these, you would almost forget the power Satoru held even before he was the chairman. You two were almost royalty. Now that he was leading the Gojou Group, his reputation only grew more despite the scandal of your broken marriage. He knew not to share his relationship publicly anymore nor did he expose Sachiro to any of his social media. It was a mutual decision for you to keep your son away from the spotlight knowing the scrutiny and the lack of privacy that would enter your lives once again—all the unnecessary noise, the unwanted comments, the unruly attention. Besides, for safety reasons, Sachiro had to be hidden from the public since he would become the sole heir to his father’s conglomerate, inheriting his parents combined assets that could one day make him the richest and most sought after bachelor in Japan.

“Mamaaa!” A lively Sachi came running to you as soon as he entered the lobby of the apartment suites, his father following him behind.

“Careful, baby!” you said, standing at the lobby while talking to your housekeeper, “You might trip.”

Satoru decided to carry his son after noticing your worried expression and immediately walked towards you. He was all smiles as he looked at Sachiro’s cheerful blue eyes. “He seems a little excited, isn’t he?”

“He lived here for almost three years,” you answered, signaling a quick ‘thank you’ to your housekeeper before guiding your boys to the elevator. “He must’ve missed the place. Did you, Sachi?”

“Yes, mama~”

It was a little bittersweet for your ex-husband, though. Especially the moment he stepped inside the apartment, looking at every corner and realizing that it was the same place you had lived in back when he was suffering from emotional distress on the other side of the world. This apartment was where his own child grew up in and he had no idea he had even existen then. Not only did that make you a terrible ex-wife, but it also made you a heartless mother. You had separated them and now you were taking him to the place where you had his son hidden from him.

That wasn’t your intention. That was never your intention.

“I’m glad you chose a nice place,” he complimented, acting as casual as possible. “Does your father own this place or?”

“Gen loaned it to me,” you said, holding Sachiro’s hand while letting Satoru follow you closely. You stopped at one of the guest rooms and urged the tall man to feel at home. “You can stay here for the meantime.”

“I don’t wanna make things uncomfortable for Akemi.” He looked away, avoiding your eyes. “I can just stay at a hotel—”

“Dada!” His mini-me tugged at his hand along with yours. You already knew that those puppy eyes would look back at the both of you. “Sachi wants Dada to stay.”

Frankly, you weren’t upset a while ago, but since he had to bring up Akemi and make it seem like her feelings were his priority, you lost all the will to be kind. Was their relationship that deep for him to act like such a loyal, righteous partner? Where was that same loyalty when he married you? “Do whatever.”

Noticing the tension between his parents, Sachiro’s eyes started to well up with tears and that was all it took for you two to completely focus your attention back to your 3-year old.

“Sachi…” Satoru tried to reach for his son, but you (spitefully) beat him to it.

“It’s okay, my baby. Don’t cry,” you comforted your son, picking him up and carrying him in your arms, “Daddy will still visit you every day even if he's staying at a hotel.”

Satoru, as guilty as ever, shook his head and wiped his son’s eyes. “No. I’ll stay here for Sachi, okay? Don’t cry anymore.”

It felt like hours sitting on that enormous sofa, staring at the television screen even though your mind was miles away. You had already texted Toji good night and reassured him that everything was fine, but you still couldn’t stop thinking about what he was doing back home. Sachiro had fallen asleep almost half an hour ago, and how you wished you could also enjoy your slumber while snuggling under those heated blankets, but how could you? How could you be comfortable in the presence of an ex-husband who was coming out of his room, freshly showered in his low-waisted sweatpants and tight-fitting black shirt? Not to mention how he was obviously flexing his arms while drying his mop of messy, white hair with a towel. Ridiculous. A little seductive, but definitely ridiculous.

“Still up?” His sky blue eyes met yours as soon as he looked up.

You adjusted your position on the sofa and leaned on the corner, pulling a small cushion to place above your thighs. “Can’t sleep.”

And the night went on just like that. You, sitting on the couch. Him, sitting on the other end as if going near you might suffocate him. It didn’t help that the silence was beginning to be too uncomfortable. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking of. Perhaps Akemi? Perhaps you? You doubted the latter.

“I think…” You cleared your throat to escape from the awkward tension. “I think I’m gonna go for a night swim. You can go to sleep next to Sachi tonight, just make sure not to wake him up.”

Satoru’s curious gaze trailed on you as you got up and tightened your robe. “It’s a little too late at night to go for a swim, no?”

You couldn’t even face him as you responded. “I need to clear my mind off some things.” And by things, you meant him and this whole mess of a situation that you had put yourselves together. Two divorcees staying in the same living space wasn’t exactly a brilliant idea to begin with.

“Want me to join you?” asked Satoru, and he himself could not believe he asked that question. He may have asked it out of his innate care for you, probably worried for no damn reason. What he didn’t realize was how wrong his suggestion was, especially that you two were dating other people now.

If only you were such a cruel person, how ironic would it be if you allowed Satoru Gojou to join you for a quick night swim?

How ironic would it be for you to feel each other’s warmth under the crystal pool, getting carried away by the romantic lights that lit the city?

How ironic would it be if the intense sexual tension ended with you doing things under the sheets, completely disregarding the fact that the both of you had respective partners who were overthinking this exact NYC trip?

How ironic would it be if, for once in your life, you became the cheater?

Thankfully, you didn’t have the mindset of a cheating person.

However, it was Satoru who took back his initial offer. “Never mind. Forget I even asked that,” he muttered, sounding annoyed more so to himself rather than at you.

You offered a nonchalant shrug. “Okay.”

And as you were heading to the poolside, you could sense Gojou’s presence behind even though he just very clearly rejected the idea of going on a swim with you. He was still the same confusing man that you married before. Only now, he was ten times worse. “Wait, Y/N.”

“What?” You turned around, annoyed at his push-and-pull behavior. At this point, you didn’t really care what he was thinking of anymore. All you did was to take off your robe, leaving yourself with only your underwear on before you slowly got down on the pool.

Gojou, on the other hand, was ridding himself of his shirt and sweatpants to join you in the pool with just his boxers on. What even was this situation? You two had that same question in your head despite swimming at the edge of the pool to stare at the cityscape. “I only asked to join you because I wanted to talk. That’s all.”

You wanted to laugh at how he was clearing his intentions to you.

“Why do you sound defensive around me?” He couldn’t see it, but you were rolling your eyes as you leaned against the pool coping. “I never knew Akemi would be the jealous type.”

Satoru looked surprised by your claim, seeming as though he didn’t recognize the kind of person you were anymore. You were never this unreasonably sarcastic nor acidic with your words during your marriage even at the height of his affair with Sera, yet you had just become the worst version of yourself. “She isn’t,” he muttered, finding his spot next to you, “But I don’t wanna give her a reason to be.”

You huffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You make it sound like I’m gonna make a move on you or something.”

“I never said that.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“Says who?”

What is it about Satoru Gojou that makes him so irritating? Was it the way he talks? The way he thinks he’s always right? The way he acts like he’s such a clean person?

“Please,” you retorted, bitterly. “Toji isn’t comfortable having you around me, either. Just so you know.”

“Can we just—” There. His last string of patience finally snapped and his true colors came to show when he grabbed your wrist and made you face him. The spiteful Satoru. He was back, even just for a second. “Y/N, I’m not trying to argue with you here. I’m trying to talk to you like a civilized person. You’re the mother of my child and I respect you. I’d still care for you and will always protect you, but I want you to at least act like a fucking person around me. You’re a grown woman.”

Wasn’t it bad that he, of all people, was basically telling you to grow up? Memories of your marriage and all the back-and-forth arguments that you had with him flashed before your eyes. He should be the last one to say such a thing. “You’re the one who’s been crossing the fucking line with me since day one, Gojou. Don’t tell me to—”

“And do you wish I had just killed myself for you to forgive me?!” The ridges of his neck became prominent, making his anger much visible now. He was staring down at you intensely, backing you against the edge of the pool, trapping you in between his arms. “I’d have probably done that. But you…You did unforgivable things to me and look how easy it was for me to forgive you.”

You looked away, not trying to have this conversation again. Not trying to have your guilt eat your heart out. Maybe your behavior really had become too much and it was about time you take a step back and realize how ridiculous you had been acting because no way was this man trying to make a better point than you.

“I slept with Akemi, I know. She’s your best friend, I fucking know. But I never did that to get back at you,” his voice bore so much authority in them. “I begged on my knees just to be with you again. Swallowed my pride just for you to be my wife again!” His breathing became ragged. “But you chose to move on. You said you love Toji. You said you’d be happier without me, so why don’t I deserve to be happy without you?”

The inability to speak wasn’t because you were at a loss of words. The problem was choosing the right ones. Words that wouldn’t put you in a disadvantageous position. Words that wouldn’t make you look like an unreasonable person.

“You wished me well when you first found out about Akemi and I. You said you don’t care who I choose to date even if that choice is her,” he said, much calmer this time. He was placing his forehead against yours, body pressed against each other. “If that was true, then why are you still so angry with me?”

Your heart raced as you locked eyes with him. His eyes were the same kind of blue that reflected off of the surface of the pool. Anyone could easily get lost in it, but you knew where to place yourself in order not to. “I’m… not angry…”

“Baby, you and I both know that’s not true,” he said with a serious gaze, lifting your chin with his hand.

But you swatted it away, averting your eyes. “Don’t call me baby. You’re being ridiculous.”

With a loud sigh, Gojou gave up and simply placed his forehead on your shoulder, letting you feel the weight of his head and the warmth of his breath. “If you were still my wife, I’d have kissed you right now,” he declared, breathing heavily as if stopping with all of his will to do what he just said. “I’d touch every inch of you, tell you how much I love you, carry you back into that room, and make more beautiful babies with you…”

“Satoru,” you warned just as he pulled away, smiling despite the sorrow in his eyes.

“…But I won’t do that. I’m not gonna do that,” he claimed and sounded like he was convincing himself rather than clearing it up. “Akemi doesn’t deserve a partner who can’t move on from his ex-wife, so I’m doing my best to forget about you.”

Your breathing took a halt. You weren’t sure where those tiny pricks in your heart came from. Toji needed the same. He deserved a wife who wasn’t pining for her ex-husband. Satoru was just being true.

“Then, forget about me,” you gave a barely audible reply.

Gojou pulled away and kept his distance now, showing that he was indeed trying to stick to his words. “I will.”

Why did it hurt when it shouldn’t have?

“Good.”

He looked at you with eyes that carried a million emotions. But what was most visible was him seeing the light, probably realizing that he truly was doing the right thing and that he was proud of himself for being able to resist you. Because then, that only meant he was only a few steps away from the path of moving on. That if he could let you go, then he could live a better life.

It only made sense why he pulled that little stunt back there—being close enough to you was probably his way of differentiating how his body reacted to you versus how it reacted to Akemi. And now that he was able to determine whatever difference that might be, it would be easier for him to know what exactly to avoid.

After all, you two would be spending the rest of your lives as a present mom and dad to Sachiro. Co-parenting was your only connection and the only way to make that work without falling for each other was to rid yourselves of any kind of attraction towards one another.

Good for him.

“Let’s be good parents, Y/N.” Satoru looked at you from across the pool. “Let’s set a good example for Sachi and show that divorced parents can still be good parents. Let’s not be toxic to each other, especially not in front of him.” His words were coming from his personal experience and as you knew the whole history behind the mess within his family, you were truthfully considerate of his words. His traumatic experiences were what shaped him to become the problematic man you once married, and he was doing his best not to let his own son be the same. “I’ll provide Sachiro with everything he needs and I’ll always be present in his life, so please let me have as much time with him as possible. I’m making up for the three years I lost with him.”

You nodded. “I don’t have a problem with that.

As the established relationship you had with Gojou became more professional and strictly transactional, the distance between you two also grew more and more. There was no longer any space for love and intimacy. There was only familiarity and acquaintanceship.

“Go to sleep soon,” he said without sending another glance your way, climbing out of the pool and reaching for his clothes, “We have a long day tomorrow.”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst

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scarluna · 6 months ago

Text

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VIII

Chapters: 7 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: Enjoy! Happy holidays! x | Cover PSD by queend3lrey on deviantart.

ACT VII.

I sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath me, a warm cup of chamomile tea cradled in my hands. The steam swirled lazily upward, its warmth brushing against my face, but it did little to deafen the icy unease settled deep in my chest. The living room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen, and the dim light of the lamp cast long shadows on the walls.

I tried to focus on the comfort of the moment—the familiar scent of tea, the way the soft blanket draped over my shoulders—but my thoughts were too loud. They dragged me back to earlier in the day, to the moment everything shifted.

I had come home tired, the weight of the day pressing heavily on my shoulders. Everything that had happened in the last two days has mentally drained me. First it was Tina's death, then Jungkook's captiveness by the police. My mind was a mess and I could barely function, let alone focus on my work daily tasks. All I wanted was to sink into my comfy bed with Hades by my side, maybe order takeout, and forget the world existed for a while.

But the moment I opened the door, my breath caught in my throat.

My apartment was wrecked.

Drawers had been yanked out and emptied onto the floor. Books and papers were strewn everywhere, cushions slashed open, their stuffing spilling out like entrails. Even my little plant by the window lay tipped over, its soil scattered across the hardwood floor.

My heart raced as I stepped inside, each careful footfall crunching against the debris of my once-safe haven. The smell of something sharp and chemical lingered in the air, making me feel nauseous.

And then it hit me. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t a burglary.

I had barely processed the thought when a new fear gripped me. “Hades?” My voice trembled as I called out. “Hades, where are you?”

The silence was deafening.

Frantically, I searched the apartment, stepping over shattered glass and overturned furniture. “Hades!” I shouted, my voice rising in panic. My chest tightened as I realized he wasn’t there. The mess suddenly felt suffocating, the walls closing in on me. I had watched enough scary movies to know that even the innocent animals were taken or worse, killed. I felt my blood bumping in my ears as my breath hitched. I squeezed my bag, looking around as if the world around me was squeezing. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I was on the verge of collapse when a knock at the door startled me.

I swung it open to find my neighbor, Mrs.Cordelia, the kind woman who lived two doors down, holding Hades in her arms. Relief washed over me like a wave as I saw his familiar face, his tail wagging furiously.

“I found him wandering in the hallway,” she said gently, handing him over. “He looked scared, poor thing. Are you alright? Your place…" her green eyes shifted over the mess behind me, her face immediately changed into one of concern, "Oh my, dear! It looks like someone broke in!” She exclaimed, then glanced at me. "Do you want to call the police?"

Clutching Hades to my chest, I began sobbing quietly. His small wet nose brushed over my cheek and warm licks licked off the tears that streamed down my face. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Thank you so much.” My voice was shaking as I held him. He was the most important to me and I'd be lost if something happened to Hades. I swallowed shakily, finally processing Mrs.Cordelia's question. "N-no need, ma'am. Uh, I will deal with the mess here." Partly, I was afraid of calling the police, they wouldn't do much and from what I could see, the bulglar did not left any tracks behind them. It'd be a lost cause.

She hesitated, her concern evident. “If you need help, or if you want me to stay for a bit, just let me know. You shouldn’t be alone after something like this.”

I managed a small, grateful smile. “I’ll be okay. Really, thank you again.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, I sank to the floor, holding Hades tightly. The familiar weight of him on my lap grounded me, but my mind was racing. Whoever had broken in was searching for something, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what.

Tina’s journal.

My eyes flicked to my bag whom I had just dropped on the ground seconds ago, this was where I had hidden it and it was still untouched thankfully. They hadn’t found it—yet. But I knew this was far from over. I realized the danger I was in, yet my pride refused to give up and seek help from the police.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. My apartment wasn’t safe anymore, and Hades wasn’t safe either. This wasn’t just a robbery—it was a message.

And I needed to figure out what came next.

The faint scent of lavender from the fabric softened the tension thrumming through my body, but my mind was still racing. Hades lay at my feet, his head resting on his paws as if he could sense I needed his calming presence.

The muffled sound of running water stopped, and a few moments later, Rya emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair tied up in a towel and an oversized hoodie falling just above her knees. She carried a casual ease, but I could see the worry etched in her features as she walked over and plopped down onto the couch beside me.

“You okay?” she asked, folding her legs underneath her and leaning her head against the couch’s backrest. “I mean, as okay as you can be after… everything?”

I exhaled slowly, trying to piece together an answer that didn’t feel like a lie. “I don’t know. It’s still sinking in, I guess.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I can’t believe someone actually broke in. You must have been terrified.”

“Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I admitted, my voice shaky. “The apartment was a complete mess. And Hades—when I couldn’t find him, I thought…” I swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

Rya reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my knee. “But he’s safe now, and so are you. That’s what matters.”

I gave her a small nod, though the tightness in my chest remained. “Thank you, Rya. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t picked up my call.”

Her lips quirked into a small, empathetic smile. “Of course, Y/N. What are friends for? You can stay here as long as you need.”

For the first time that night, I let out a small laugh, though it came out more like a sigh. “You sure you’re not going to regret having me and a very anxious dog invade your space?”

She grinned. “Are you kidding? Hades is the least of my worries. He’s adorable. You, on the other hand, might be a little high-maintenance.”

I rolled my eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I promise not to hog the couch or eat all your snacks.”

“Good, because I don’t share my ice cream,” she teased, then her tone grew serious. “But really, Y/N, do you have any idea who could’ve done this? Why someone would target you?”

I hesitated, my hands tightening around the edge of the blanket. “I… I think it’s because of the journal.”

Rya’s eyebrows shot up. “Tina’s journal? You think this has something to do with that?”

I nodded, my stomach twisting as I thought about it. “It has to be. Whoever broke in was looking for something specific. They didn’t even take my laptop or jewelry. They tore through the place like they were searching for something hidden.”

Her expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Y/N, if someone’s after that journal, it’s not safe for you to keep it. You need to tell someone—maybe the police or…”

“Or who, Rya?” I interjected, my voice rising. “It’s not like I can waltz into the station and hand it over without explaining where I got it. And that’ll lead to questions I don’t have answers to.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Okay, fair point. But you can’t just sit on this thing like it’s some kind of secret treasure. Whoever broke in isn’t going to stop because they didn’t find it the first time.”

“I know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I know.”

Silence stretched between us, the weight of the situation pressing down like a heavy fog. Hades let out a small whine, breaking the tension as he nudged my leg with his nose.

Rya watched him for a moment, her expression softening. “We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

Her words carried a warmth that made my throat tighten. “Thanks, Rya. I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but… I really appreciate you.”

She waved me off with a smile. “Don’t get all mushy on me now. I’d do the same thing for Hades.”

I laughed, the sound lighter this time, and for a moment, the weight of the world didn’t feel so suffocating.

But as the night deepened and Rya retreated to her bedroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Whoever had broken into my apartment wasn’t going to give up easily. And I needed to figure out what Tina’s journal was hiding—before it was too late.

The next morning came far too soon. My eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep, and my body ached from tossing and turning all night. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of my ransacked apartment replayed in vivid detail. The thought of someone invading my space left a lingering sense of unease that refused to dissipate.

Rya, ever the early riser, had already made us coffee by the time I emerged from the spare bedroom. She offered me a tired smile, her damp hair falling in waves around her shoulders.

“You look like you didn’t sleep a wink,” she said, handing me a mug.

“Because I didn’t,” I muttered, taking a sip and savoring the bitter warmth. “I kept thinking about what happened. And then I started worrying about it happening to you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Please. I’m not the one carrying a target on my back right now. If they want to mess with me, they’ll regret it.” Her words were light, but I caught the edge of concern in her tone.

We left her apartment together, stepping into the chilly morning air. The ride to work was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. Every shadow, every person walking by, felt like a threat. By the time we arrived at the office, my nerves were stretched thin.

Hoseok greeted us with his usual sunny smile, but his expression quickly shifted to concern as he noticed my face.

“Whoa, what happened?” he asked, standing from his desk.

Rya stepped in, her voice quiet. “Someone broke into Y/N’s apartment last night. She stayed with me.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed, and he glanced at me. “Are you okay? Did they take anything?”

I shook my head, sighing. “They weren’t there to steal. It was more like they were searching for something. They trashed the place, but nothing’s missing.”

His frown deepened. “You think it’s connected to Tina’s journal?” I frowned and turned around toward Rya. "You told him?!" Her face changed into one of shock and then regret, "Sorry, Y/N, I accidentally blurted it out to him last night on the phone." "You know that the more people know about this, the more in danger you all become." I snapped but regretted it, Rya was a good person with a kind heart, but I definitely was scared for Hoseok and her now.

Before we could say more, a voice chimed in from behind us.

“Someone broke in your apartment last night?”

I turned to see Yoongi leaning casually against the edge of his desk, his dark eyes sharp with something I couldn't recognize. Was it concern?Annoyance? I hadn’t even noticed him nearby.

“None of your business." I muttered, turning around to look at Hoseok who had his eyebrows raised. I heard footsteps behind me until I felt warmth all over my entire back. He was standing there, wasn't he? "This was the same night where I drove you back to your place, wasn't it?" he muttered in a flat tone. My heart raced, I could catch a scent off his cologne. "Stop asking me questions, this does not concern you." "The hell it fucking does." his voice became raspy and deep. Rya kept glancing at me and Yoongi who stood behind me. I didn't really want to turn around. Deep annoyed sigh escaped my lips as I turned around to face him finally. "No, it does not. Just. . . just be focused on getting our Boss out of jail, please?" He kept staring at me and didn't even reply to my plead. Yoongi's face remained blank, hands crossed against his chest. I could see his jaw locking tightly. "How about you do not tell me what to fucking do? I told you to be careful, didn't I? You will be staying at my place from now on. I can keep an eye on you and on that damn journal you got yourself involved with." "Yoongi," I spoke lowly, "I am NOT staying with you." He took a step forward, towered over me, his face was close to mine and I felt my cheeks heaten. "Oh yes you are. Staying with Rya puts her in danger too. I, on the other hand, know how to protect myself and protect you from this bullshit you got into. So don't even dare to fight with me right now." I exhaled sharply through my nose but then I remembered I was at the office, Hoseok and Rya were watching us with wide eyes, some people passing by also kept staring at us. My eyes closed for a moment as I tried to calm the rage bubbling deep inside of me, before I replied. "Fine." I spoke lowly, only to get him off my back. "I will stay with you. Happy?" I gritted my teeth and turned to glance at Hoseok and Rya. "Come on, let's grab coffee at the cafeteria." "S-sure," both of them grabbed my hands and dragged me down the hall as Yoongi stood there, staring at us until we disappeared around the corner. "Y/N, what the hell was that?" Rya asked hushedly. "What do you mean?" "There is a LOT sexual tension between you two." Hoseok added in with a smug smirk on his face. I scowled at him. "The fuck you are on about. He is an ass and he thinks that after he is a rich son of a conglomerate he gets to treat people like properties. I despise him." "Yet you agreed to stay with him?" Rya muttered, teasing me. "I only did that to get him off my back. He would be forgetting about it by the end of the day." I could hear them both giggle as we walked into the cafeteria. Did they not believe me? Gosh, those two annoyed the hell out of me sometimes.

The meeting room was filled with tension, the air thick with unspoken words. I sat at the long conference table, my hands resting on the surface, fingers drumming nervously against the polished wood. To my right was Rya, who seemed deep in thought, her eyes flickering between the others in the room. Across from me sat Hoseok, his usual carefree demeanor nowhere to be found, replaced by a cool, determined expression.

And then there was Gina—her eyes hard, and posture stiff. She was the one who had invited Hoseok to that masquerade ball, only to be turned down cold. I could almost feel her resentment lingering in the air, even though the others were too polite to address it directly.

The room fell silent as Yoongi walked into the conference room, his usual calm but imposing presence commanding attention. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“As you all know, Jungkook’s departure leaves us with a gap in leadership,” Yoongi began, his voice steady but with an edge of authority. “Until he returns, I will be taking over the company on a temporary basis. But more importantly, we need to address the immediate future of the team."

My heart skipped a beat. The room was tense, everyone waiting for what would come next.

Yoongi’s gaze shifted to Hoseok. “Hoseok," he said, his tone not giving anything away, "you will be stepping up as the new direct manager for the team.”

A gasp escaped Gina's lips, her eyes wide in shock. Rya shifted slightly, her gaze darting between Yoongi and Hoseok. I held my breath. Hoseok didn’t flinch, though. He nodded, his usual warmth replaced by a seriousness I wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“I understand,” Hoseok replied, his voice steady, though there was a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind—this wasn’t just about Tina’s death, it was about filling a role that many had doubted he could handle. The weight of responsibility suddenly seemed to settle over him, but there was no doubt he would rise to the challenge. Still, I knew he didn’t expect it to be this soon.

Gina crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "So, Hoseok, you’ll just… step into Tina’s shoes?" she asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered to her, his expression unreadable. "It's not a choice, Gina," he said quietly, "it's what's needed. And no need for worry, I have discussed this with Jungkook already."

There was a long pause. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence almost unbearable. I wanted to speak, to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. I knew what this meant for all of us—for Hoseok especially—but the uncertainty of the future weighed heavy on my chest.

“I’ll take it on,” Hoseok said after a moment, standing from his chair. His voice was firm now, as if the decision had been made in his heart, and he was ready to carry the burden.

I looked at him, trying to read his expression, but he was already focused on the task at hand. I couldn’t help but admire his resolve, even though I knew this would be a difficult road ahead. As the room buzzed with quiet murmurs and Yoongi began laying out the next steps, my thoughts drifted.

I couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen next. The meeting continued with a few new clients joining in, Yoongi was oddly prepared and I couldn't help but wonder if Jungkook had given him all the information. My mind drifted to my Boss again. I could imagine him sitting in his cell, awaiting for a miracle to happen. My heart raced. There has to be something that proves his innocence. Anything. . .

Yoongi's voice brought me back to reality.

"You gonna keep sitting there, Y/N?" he muttered, his eyes boring into mine. I blinked a few times only to realize that the room was now empty. Yoongi and I were the only ones left. Fuck. Soft sigh escaped my lips as I rose up and collected my papers without paying much mind to him.

"Hey, talk to me." I heard his footsteps approaching and I froze. Slowly turning around, our eyes met. "You good?"

"Peachy. Move." I muttered, trying to pass by him, yet a grip on my arm stopped me. I swallowed thickly as I felt his fingers curl around my elbow.

"Can you tell me what the fuck is going on? Is it because I asked you to stay with me?" . "Why does everything have to be about you, Yoongi? The situation itself is disasterous," I shot at him, pulling my hand away. "I don't trust you, and I won't be staying with you. I don't feel comfortable being around you, every second I look at your face I want to look away and disappear," I blurted out, stepping toward him. In my rage, I didn't care that we were close.

"You are too dumb to even realize the situation," he spoke out.

"Fuck off." I spoke out, pushing him and walking out of the office. I was blushing and fuming at the same time. That idiot. He thought he was the Boss now and everyone would bow at his fucking feet. I reached my desk and slammed the papers I held on it before I sat down and buried my face in my hands, clearly frustrated.

The workday finally came to a close, the tension still lingering in the air. I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding my breath until I stepped out of the meeting room, the weight of the new responsibilities hanging over Hoseok, and over all of us, like a storm cloud that refused to dissipate. I was exhausted, but the day wasn’t over yet.

Rya and I walked back to her place in silence, the streets unusually quiet as we made our way through the city. The only sounds were our footsteps and the occasional hum of passing cars. I could feel the heaviness of what was to come—Tina’s funeral was tomorrow and the cruel reality of her death still hard to grasp.

Rya had been distant, her mind clearly elsewhere, but when we reached her apartment, she greeted me with the same quiet, welcoming smile she always had. I let myself in, and immediately, Hades came bounding toward me, his large, fluffy form jumping up to greet me. I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned down to scratch behind his ears, the simple act of petting him somehow grounding me in the chaos.

“We’ll get through tomorrow,” Rya said, her voice soft as she shut the door behind us. "It’s hard, I know. But it’s over now."

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I was agreeing with her or just trying to convince myself. Tina had been a complicated figure in my life, a bully and a tormentor, but now—now she was gone. And that meant something. What exactly? I wasn’t sure.

The conversation died as Rya and I settled into the couch. Rya made tea, and I pulled out Tina's worn journal I kept hidden in my bag. Tina's death was still too fresh, and I wasn’t sure how to process it yet.

Before I could open the journal, there was a knock at the door. It was gentle, but I could tell it was someone who had a reason to be there. I stood up slowly, my gaze flicking to Rya. She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. I slowly opened the door and my eyes met with Hoseok's.

“Thought you two could use some company,” he said, standing in the doorway with a hesitant smile. He was in his usual casual wear—jeans and a hoodie—though there was a solemnity in his eyes that wasn’t usually there. Hades barked, running over to him, and Hoseok knelt down to pet him, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Come on in,” Rya said, stepping aside. “You’re always welcome here.”

Hoseok nodded and stepped inside, taking a seat next to me on the couch. He seemed out of place, as if his mind was miles away, but his presence was comforting. The weight of the day seemed to lift a little with him there, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else.

We didn’t talk about the company or the changes Hoseok would face. Instead, we hung out like we always did. Rya made more tea, and we spent the next hour just talking—about life, about the things that made us laugh, about whatever came to mind. I caught myself smiling more than I had all day, my body relaxing as the warmth of the room filled me.

But then something caught Rya’s attention. She had been glancing out the window, her expression suddenly hardening as she stared into the night. I followed her gaze, and my heart skipped a beat.

Three men in black suits were standing just outside the building, pacing slowly around the entrance. They looked like they were waiting for something—or someone. I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something unnerving about their presence, their movements almost deliberate.

“What is it?” I asked quietly, already feeling the tension rising in my chest.

Rya didn’t answer immediately. She just kept watching them. Then, in a quiet voice, she muttered, “They don’t look good.”

I stood up, moving toward the window with her. The men weren’t doing anything threatening, but their presence felt off—like they were watching, waiting for something. The hair on the back of my neck stood on. I kept staring until one of the men glanced up and our eyes met. I took a few steps back. They looked like the damn mafia because I noticed that each one of them had tattoo on the back of their necks. "Should we call the police?" Hoseok asked. "I believe they are here to guard more than harm us." I muttered but I was unsure. "I am gonna go and ask them who sent them." Hoseok stood up and before me and Rya could protest, he was out of the room. We turned around and waited until we saw Hoseok approach the three men. They stood taller than him which was quite intimidating from up here. Hoseok's face changed into pure surprise as they conversed back with him. Five minutes passed and Hoseok finally headed back into the building. Me and Rya looked at each other, then at Hoseok who just walked in. "What happened. Who were those people?" I asked, approaching him slowly. "Yoongi sent them. They are here to guard." "What?" I muttered and turned around to stare back at their figures. Yoongi sent them? So he was indeed involved in the mafia. Now that I think about it, after our little bicker at the meeting room I didn't hear much from him nor he approached me after that. So this was his plan? To send his gorillas to watch over us? Rya and Hoseok stared at me as I was clearly deep lost in thoughts. "I guess Yoongi does have a heart after all," Hoseok commented before flopping back on the couch as Hades jumped in his lap. I turned around to give him a glance, then back at Rya who shrugged her shoulders and joined Hoseok. -

The rain was unrelenting, a steady rhythm against my umbrella that matched the dull ache in my chest. Everything felt muted, from the gray sky to the whispers of the wind through the trees. The priest’s voice carried over the gathering, solemn and heavy with meaning, but I couldn’t focus on the words. My mind wandered, my gaze fixed on the dark casket lowered into the ground. Tina’s family stood closest, their grief raw and exposed, a mirror to the ache none of us dared to show so openly.

I felt numb. Standing there, surrounded by my colleagues, I couldn't shake the surreal feeling that none of this was real. Tina was gone. She was really gone. The thought made my stomach churn, and my grip on the umbrella tightened. My mind drifted to the last time I’d seen her, how she tried to humiliate me in front of all those people, feeling so prideful of herself... Now, those moments were nothing but memories, fading with each passing second. I did not hold a grudge against her however, I had forgiven her already and was ready to move on with my next step in life. But the mere thought that death could take anyone, anytime made me question if I was actually living my life to the fullest.

The rain picked up, and a gust of wind threatened to flip my umbrella. I didn’t care. My thoughts were a storm of their own, louder than the priest’s speech, louder than the sobs around me. Why did it have to be her? Why did life have to be so cruel?

A presence nearby pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. I felt it before I saw it—warm, steady, and familiar in a way that startled me. Turning my head slightly, my eyes fell on him. Yoongi.

He stood a step behind me, an umbrella of his own shielding him from the rain, his dark suit blending into the dreary backdrop. His expression was unreadable, but when our eyes met, he spared me the briefest glance. It wasn’t much—just a flicker of acknowledgment—but it felt like an anchor, grounding me when I was moments away from being swept away by my thoughts.

For a moment, I wanted to say something, but the words tangled in my throat. Instead, I turned back toward the priest, the weight of Yoongi’s presence beside me somehow comforting. I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

The funeral ended with the soft murmurs of condolences and the muffled shuffle of footsteps on wet ground. People began to disperse, their umbrellas bobbing away in the gray mist. I stood still for a moment, watching Tina’s family linger by the grave, their grief a tangible weight that pressed on everyone who passed. I felt a pang of guilt as I turned away—I couldn’t bear to stay any longer.

Hoseok and Rya were waiting for me by the cemetery gates, their faces pale and drawn.

“Are you coming with us now?” Rya asked softly, her voice hoarse from crying. She gave me a weak, hopeful smile, her hand resting lightly on my arm.

I hesitated. “I think I should stop by my apartment first,” I said, trying to sound steadier than I felt. “Grab some things before I come over. I won’t be long.”

Hoseok looked concerned, his brows knitting together. “Are you sure you want to go alone? We can come with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

They exchanged a glance but didn’t push further. “Alright,” Rya said gently. “Just... don’t take too long. We’ll wait for you.”

I nodded, thanking them before turning toward the parking lot. The rain had eased slightly, but the cold still clung to the air, making every step feel heavier. As I neared one of the parked cabs, I heard footsteps behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Yoongi approaching, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his expression calm but unreadable.

“Yoongi?” I asked, stopping in my tracks. “What are you doing?”

He stopped a few steps away, tilting his head slightly as if the answer was obvious. “You’re heading to your apartment, right?” he said. “I’ll drive you.”

I blinked at him. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he replied simply. “But I want to. And I’ll go in with you. It’s late, and you shouldn’t be there alone.”

There was something about his tone—firm yet unassuming—that made it hard to argue. A part of me wanted to refuse, to insist that I didn’t need anyone’s help, but the exhaustion weighing me down won out.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thanks.”

He gave a small nod, motioning toward his car parked nearby. The drive to my apartment was quiet, the silence between us broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires splashing through puddles. I stared out the window, my mind swirling with a mix of emotions I couldn’t untangle. Yoongi didn’t press for conversation, and for that, I was grateful.

When we arrived, he parked by the curb and followed me up to my apartment. The air inside felt cold and stale, a sharp contrast to the warmth it used to hold. Everything was exactly as I’d left it, but it felt different now—lonelier.

“I’ll just be a minute,” I said, stepping inside and flicking on the lights. Yoongi lingered near the door, his sharp eyes scanning the space.

“Take your time,” he said, leaning against the wall, his presence calm and steady.

I moved through the apartment, grabbing the essentials—a change of clothes, my toothbrush, my charger. But as I packed, the weight of everything began to creep back in.

I stopped in the middle of the room, gripping the edge of the counter as my chest tightened. Yoongi must have noticed because, before I could process it, he was standing beside me, his voice soft but firm.

“You don’t have to hold it together all the time,” he said.

His words broke something in me, and I let out a shaky breath, the tears I’d been holding back spilling over. I expected him to say more or simply let me be by leaving the room, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed quiet, a solid presence beside me as I let the grief wash over me in waves.

The tears came fast, hot, and relentless, pouring out in a way I hadn’t let myself feel since it all happened. I tried to stifle the sobs, to keep it together, but the weight of everything—Tina’s empty desk, the funeral—broke through whatever fragile composure I had left. My shoulders shook as I leaned heavily on the counter, my hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

For a moment, Yoongi didn’t say anything. The silence between us stretched, filled only by the sound of my uneven breathing and the rain still drizzling outside. I wondered if he was regretting coming with me, if he was silently willing this moment to end. But then, I felt him move closer.

“I’m... not good at this,” he admitted, his voice low and hesitant, almost like he was speaking to himself. “But... you don’t have to do this alone.”

The words were simple, awkward even, but they struck something deep within me. I turned my head slightly, just enough to see him standing there, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, his brows drawn together in concern. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with something softer, something almost unsure.

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out, his hand hovering near my shoulder as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch me or not. Eventually, he settled on a light, tentative pat, like he was testing the waters. It was almost laughable in its awkwardness, but somehow, it made me cry harder.

“Hey,” he said quickly, his voice rising just a little. “It’s okay. I mean, not okay—none of this is—but... you’re allowed to cry.” His hand stayed there, a steady, grounding weight on my shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

There was something so painfully honest about the way he spoke, like he was trying so hard to say the right thing even if he didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t polished or rehearsed, but it was real, and that was enough.

“I just—” My voice cracked as I tried to speak. “She was a shitty person, but she didn’t deserve this.”

“I know,” he said softly, his tone steady now. “None of this makes sense. And it’s not fair. But...” He paused, searching for the right words. “It already happened and we must move on. You have to take care of yourself and what you do. Of your own future....”

I nodded, my tears slowing but still spilling over. His hand left my shoulder briefly, and I thought maybe he was stepping back, giving me space. Instead, he grabbed a tissue from a box on the counter and handed it to me, holding it out like it was some kind of peace offering.

“Here,” he said, his voice gruff. “You’re, uh... kind of a mess.”

Despite everything, I let out a choked laugh, taking the tissue and wiping at my face. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice still shaky. “For stating the obvious.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

The heaviness in my chest hadn’t disappeared, but it didn’t feel quite as suffocating anymore. Yoongi didn’t fill the silence with empty platitudes or promises he couldn’t keep. He just stood there, awkward and quiet and real, and somehow, that was exactly what I needed.

As we stepped out of my apartment, the rain had lightened to a soft drizzle. Yoongi walked beside me, his pace measured, as if he wasn’t in a rush to leave. I wasn’t either, but I didn’t say anything. The lingering weight of my tears had left me feeling raw, but lighter somehow, as if letting it all out had taken a small part of the burden with it.

We got into his car, and I buckled my seatbelt, glancing at him as he started the engine. The drive to Rya’s place was quiet at first, the steady hum of the heater filling the space. My thoughts swirled, still caught in the strange, bittersweet moment we’d just shared, but something else tugged at the back of my mind.

I turned to look at him, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his face. “Yoongi,” I started, my voice breaking the silence.

“Hm?” he responded, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“The bodyguards.” My tone was even, but there was a pointed edge to it. “Why?”

For a second, his hands tightened on the wheel, a flicker of something crossing his face—surprise? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.

He shrugged, the motion nonchalant. “You figured that out, huh?”

“You’re not exactly subtle,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “They’ve been following me everywhere.”

“Good,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice calm but resolute. “That’s the point.”

I stared at him, waiting for an explanation, but he didn’t offer one. “Why?” I pressed. “Why did you send them? And don’t say it’s because you’re just being ‘nice.’”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk, but it faded quickly. “You didn’t agree to stay with me,” he said simply, glancing at me briefly before focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t just leave you to deal with everything alone. You’re... you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “So your solution was to have me followed?”

“It’s not following,” he corrected, his tone almost teasing. “It’s protecting. There’s a difference.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need bodyguards, Yoongi. I’m fine.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and the air grew heavier with the weight of the conversation. Finally, he sighed, his voice quieter this time. “You might think you’re fine, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need someone looking out for you. Especially now.”

There was something in his tone—something softer, almost vulnerable—that caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to argue, but the words got stuck. Instead, I turned to look out the window, the city lights blurring as we passed them.

“I don’t know whether to be mad at you or grateful,” I muttered.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and surprisingly comforting. “Why not both? Seems fair.”

Despite myself, I smiled a little, shaking my head. Typical Yoongi. Always doing things his way, even if it meant annoying me in the process.

The rest of the drive passed quietly, and when we pulled up to Rya’s apartment, he turned off the engine but didn’t make any move to get out immediately.

“Thanks,” I said softly, my hand resting on the door handle. “For the ride. And for... everything else.”

He gave me a small nod, his expression unreadable. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

I lingered for a moment before stepping out of the car, the rain now just a faint mist against my skin. As I walked toward the building, I glanced back briefly to see him watching me from the car, his face shadowed but his presence as steady as ever.

Rya’s apartment was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the dreary night outside. The smell of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air as I stepped inside, and the sight of Hoseok and Rya’s familiar faces brought a strange mix of comfort and unease. They greeted me with soft smiles, though their eyes still held traces of the sorrow that lingered from the funeral.

“Hey,” Rya said gently, pulling me into a hug. “I’m glad you’re back, but it took you a while.”

She was referring to me being late. The images of me crying and Yoongi trying to comfort be flooded my mind and a fait blush crept across my cheeks but I decided to not say anything else. "I had to figure out what to bring." I muttered a lame excuse.

Hoseok appeared behind her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“As okay as I can be,” I admitted, forcing a faint smile.

“Well, you’re not alone,” he said, giving my shoulder a reassuring pat. “We’re here.”

The apartment felt cozy, with blankets draped over the couch and soft lighting from a few lamps scattered around the room. It was exactly the kind of space I needed—a temporary refuge from the chaos of my own life.

Rya ushered me into the kitchen, insisting I have some tea before settling in. I obliged, the warmth of the mug grounding me as we sat and talked about nothing in particular. Hoseok tried to lighten the mood with his usual humor, and while it didn’t completely lift the heaviness, it was enough to make me feel a little more human.

As the night wore on, the apartment grew quieter. Hoseok eventually left, giving me and Rya some space, and Rya retired to her room shortly after, leaving me alone with Hades in the living room. The small, neatly arranged space was calming, but my mind refused to quiet. I sat on the couch, staring at my bag where the journal was tucked away.

I told myself I wasn’t going to look at it tonight. I needed rest. But the pull of it was too strong, the questions it raised too loud to ignore. With a sigh, I reached into my bag and pulled it out, the leather cover worn and familiar under my fingers.

Flipping through the pages felt almost intrusive, even though I’d done it before. My eyes skimmed over the familiar handwriting, notes scrawled in a hurried script that hinted at Tina’s urgency. Names, places, fragments of thoughts—it was all there, a chaotic puzzle waiting to be solved.

And then, my breath hitched.

My eyes landed on a sentence, circled twice in a way that made it stand out among the cluttered text.

K told me everything will be okay. The deal would be closed and I don't need to worry, but why do I feel so uneasy as I roam at my apartment during the night? Almost as if someone's watching me.

I stared at it, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't figure out who that man with the letter K was. Soft sigh escaped my lips as I shook my head and closed the journal with a soft thud before putting it back in my bag and closing it securely. -

I was sitting at my desk, the office buzzing around me with the usual chatter and the clinking of keyboards, trying to focus on the emails piling up. The weight of Tina’s journal still hung heavily on my mind, especially after the discovery last night. The letter 'K” was like a puzzle piece lodged somewhere deep in my brain, but it didn’t fit. Not yet.

My phone buzzed on my desk, breaking my thoughts. I glanced down at the screen and saw my parents’ name flash across it.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. It had been a while since I’d heard from them, and though it was never a bad thing, it felt like I had too many loose ends of my own to deal with. Still, I swiped to answer.

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.”

“Y/N!” my mother’s voice came through. “We heard about your colleague's passing. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Mom,” I said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “Just... busy with work." There was a silence to the other side of the line, I could feel that my answer wasn't satisfactory for them nor did they believe me. "Sweetheart, are you sure you are okay?" I wasn't. Not really. My apartment was trashed, I am staying at a friend's place for the time being and I hold a journal that has a target on my back. No, I am not okay. But I wasn't going to tell them all of this. They'd flip and arrive with the first flight here and I did not want their appearance to complicate things and potentially put a target on their backs too.

“Yes, Mom. Just... work has it's toll on me." "Have you been taking care of yourself? Eating enough and sleeping enough?" I rolled my eyes, leaning back on my chair as I rubbed my temple. "Yes, Mom." "Good, good. So, how's Taehyung?"

"He is fine, we went out during the weekend and spent some quality time together” "Oh, that's lovely. You and him should visit us for the holidays!" "I am unsure, work here is a killer and I need to finish some project before New Year's Eve." I lied. "I am hoping you'd visit us, you know. It's been a year since we've seen you." I swallowed thickly. "Well, when I get the chance, I will visit." I heard rustling from the other side of the line, "Remember when you were a kid and Taehyung used to steal your dolly toy? It was hilarious, you'd throw whatever you find at him." I heard my dad chuckle and my mom did the same too. "Yeah, I remember." "You were such a feisty child back then, I swear. You also used to have trouble saying Taehyung’s name,” my dad continued. “So you’d always call him ‘Kim.’ You couldn’t quite say his full name, and I think you just got used to calling him that.”

I froze, the cup of coffee in my hand going still. "Wait, what?" "Silly girl, you don't remember it? Taehyung liked it so much that everyone started calling him Kim."

The memory hit me like a rush of cold water. Was he possibly the one Tina referred as K in her journal. I felt my breath hitch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What if it was?!

I nodded absently, my mind racing. “Yeah. Mom, Dad, something came up, I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you.”

Before they could say anything more, I hung up, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. Kim. The letter "K." That name had been haunting me for days. The man behind the cryptic letter, the one who had been tied to Tina’s journal—the “K” who had promised everything would be okay...

My hands were shaking slightly as I grabbed Tina’s journal from my bag, flipping through the pages until I landed on the sentence I had found last night. My heart pounded as I read the words again, my eyes scanning the haunting sentence:

K told me everything will be okay. The deal would be closed and I don't need to worry, but why do I feel so uneasy as I roam at my apartment during the night? Almost as if someone's watching me.

Taehyung.

The unease that had crawled through Tina’s words—the feeling of being watched—was too similar to what I had experienced, too unsettling to ignore. Had Tina been trying to warn me? Was she afraid of him?

No, this couldn't be true. There was no way Taehyung would be involved with Tina's murder. He was a kind gracing soul, his eyes sparkled when he smiles and he has the brightest energy. I refused to believe this. Fuck. I was so frustrated that I wanted to cry. Jungkook was rotting at the police station and I felt my hands were tied. -

A week had passed since the call with my parents, and the chaos surrounding Tina's death had only escalated. The media was in full frenzy, throwing every possible theory into the spotlight. They were relentless, accusing Jungkook, linking his name to the case, and bombarding every source with questions. The headlines screamed: Jungkook: The Man Behind Tina's Murder? Did Jungkook Have a Motive? Tina’s Death: The Dark Truth Behind the Hidden Relationship. It felt like the world was spinning out of control, the noise growing louder, and my head throbbed from the constant barrage of speculation.

I couldn’t bring myself to buy into the media's narrative, though. I knew Jungkook, and something about it didn’t sit right. The accusations seemed premature, reckless even. Still, I couldn’t ignore the mounting pressure to find some kind of answer. I was still in heavy denial that Taehyung was the man with the letter K which Tina referred to in her journal. Speaking of Tae, he tried to contact me a few times in the past week but I either ignored his calls or picked up to tell him I was busy. I didn't wish to talk to him right now.

After days of sifting through Tina’s journal and chasing after dead ends, I felt more lost than ever. There was no concrete evidence, no undeniable proof to tie anyone to Tina’s death. I’d met with the police a few times but nothing was helping. They’d brushed off my theories—rightfully so, in hindsight—leaving me to wonder if I was grasping at straws. I was on the edge of giving up, frustrated, exhausted, and feeling hopeless.

It was late in the afternoon when a small white envelope appeared at my office. No return address. No name. Just a plain piece of paper that seemed ordinary, yet I couldn't shake the unease that washed over me. I hesitated for a moment before opening it, wondering who would send me something anonymously.

Inside was a single photograph. My breath caught in my throat when I saw it.

The picture was grainy, clearly taken from a distance. It showed Tina standing in front of her apartment building, the night she was murdered. The time stamped at the bottom of the image was just moments before her estimated time of death. She was talking to someone. The man was standing close to her, but his face was obscured by a black umbrella, as if to shield himself from the rain.

I squinted at the image, my heart beating faster. But then, my eyes narrowed at something else. A dark scar on the man’s wrist. His hand was gripping the umbrella, and the scar was visible just below his sleeve—large, jagged, and unmistakable. It stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his arm. Everything else was shrouded in shadow. His face, his body—everything but that scar and the way his hand gripped the umbrella.

I felt my hands tremble as I turned the photograph over, hoping for any sort of clue written on the back. But there was nothing. No note. No further explanation.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

This wasn’t just any man. This was someone Tina had been with right before her death, someone she clearly knew. But who? And why was his face hidden? Why was there only a scar on his wrist to identify him?

The dark scar—it was familiar, somehow. I racked my brain, my thoughts racing. Where had I seen something like that before?

The answer hit me suddenly, like a flicker of a memory I’d buried. The scar on his wrist... it was so similar to the one I had seen on someone else.

I stumbled back from my desk, gripping the edge as my head spun.

I couldn’t waste time second-guessing. I needed to find out who this man was, and fast. I needed to know if the scar was really the key to unlocking everything. Could it be a coincidence? Or was it part of something far more dangerous?

I shoved the picture into my bag, heart pounding in my chest, a new sense of urgency coursing through me. Time was running out. The mystery was growing darker, and I was one step closer to something much bigger than I could have imagined.

I had to keep going. There was no turning back now.

My heart raced as I clutched the photo tightly in my bag, the urgency driving me forward. I had to get to Taehyung’s law firm—he had to know something. The scar on the man’s wrist... I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the missing link, the connection that would tie everything together. I had no time to waste, not when the pieces were finally starting to fall into place.

I moved quickly through the city streets, the damp air clinging to my skin, the sounds of traffic and people filling the space around me. My mind was consumed with the photo, with the potential answers it held, but as I crossed the busy intersection, something felt off. My senses were heightened, like a tightrope walker balancing between instinct and logic.

I barely noticed the car speeding toward me until it was too late.

A sudden screech of tires, the blinding flash of headlights. My body tensed as I tried to step back, but it was too fast—too close. Everything happened in a blur. My heart skipped a beat. I felt the impact, the jolt of the car against my side, sending me crashing into the pavement.

Pain exploded through my body, sharp and overwhelming, but it was the darkness that came next that consumed me. A deep, suffocating blackness, pulling me in from all sides.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. The world around me disappeared, replaced by the weight of nothingness. My mind felt as though it had been ripped away from my body, trapped in a void that seemed endless.

I wanted to scream, wanted to fight, but there was nothing—just silence.

Everything faded away.

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thewrittingnook · 3 days ago

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Monsters and their humans #1

Warning: GN!Monsters, GN!Reader,

Imagine...

Your Alien bf/gf being fascinated by the fact humans have complex bodies and functions. They love how human skin is so soft and squishy! You know those saws that cut casts? They find it so fascinating that the saw won't cut human skin because the teeth can't grab onto the soft skin. Extra plus if your a plump or chubby human because they just love nibbling on your thighs or pinching your tummy.

Your Mer/Siren bf/gf being in love with your lower half. They love seeing your little toes wiggle! They also love that you're able to paint your nails. Merpeople usually use shells, pearls and shiny stones to decorate their fins and tails but it's intriguing that something so simple can look so pretty! They especially love ocean or mer inspired nail designs! They love running their webbed little claws all over your legs.

How about a Werewolf bf/gf loving it when you have your nails grown out? They may act all tough and mighty but the second that your nails run over, their head their legs twitch and their tongues are out while they whine at being pampered. And don't even get me started on petting their tummy and chin. They get reduced to a puppy with your touch.

A clingy Vampire who loves the heat that radiates off your skin. They're technically undead and basically cold to the touch but feeling heat that won't kill them (burned at the stake way too many times) is so nice to them. They basically drag you into their velvet red armchair and hold you until you fall asleep.

#x reader #fluff #thewrittingnook #monster x human #monster x reader #monster lover #alien

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improbable-outset · 1 year ago

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📄 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐞:

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐂…

Hey it’s 1am here in the UK and I don’t have a valentine themed fic. So have this set of HC of my AU series that I’ve been working on instead. There is a mix of wholesome and spicy HC. I’m too lazy to put it in an undercut so minors DNI 🔞

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will rant about his day in the lab to you. You love hearing him vent to you if he had a terrible day or ramble about an exciting discovery he had made.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will come home to you from a hard works day in the lab. He likes to rest his head between your thighs while his wife massages his scalp. He melts completely under your tender touch. Your fingers are very soft and soothing.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive small love notes or doodles that are packed with his lunch from his wife. Sometimes even spicy messages if you’re feeling risky. They tend to end with him coming back home and fucking you on the nearest surface. Most likely the couch or kitchen counter top.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a personalised lab coat with his name on it from you, either as a birthday gift or an anniversary present. He now wears it in the lab everyday since.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will involve you when he’s designing gadgets and weapons to be used by the Spider Society. He values your input when brainstorming the prototypes.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have a personal gym right next to his lab where he would work out and train to maintain his strength and combat skills. This includes a high-tech simulation drill that replicate various combat scenarios to aid and enhance his quick thinking and problem solving abilities.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have his wife watch him work out from the sidelines. You would admire the determination etched on his face. Maybe even steal a quick kiss in between sets. Sometimes you would sit on the rooftops while Miguel would do his usual web slinging endurance, navigating the city skyline from building to building as part of his training.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will fuck you good when he knows he won’t be home for a few days because of a mission in another dimension. He’ll make sure he reaches every crevice deep inside you. You’ll feel a dull ache from the way he stretched out your walls— a reminder of that passionate night and of your husband’s temporary absence. He doesn’t like using toys, he’d rather use his hands and dick do all the work.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that loves to kiss you all over and talk about the function of each part of your body while praising you and telling you how perfect your are. He loves teasing your erogenous areas to increase your serotonin levels and see how much you would fall apart under his touch.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a blow job from you as he tries to explain the make reproductive system OR while he talks about his day at work to you. He’s lucky to have you help him with his pent up stress.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that probably keeps a track of your period. For research, of course. After you got off your birth control pills, it’s his responsibility to track when your fertility window takes place so he can breed you at the right time.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that is over the moon when you both find out that you are finally pregnant. Of course he would admire the changes of your body while you’re growing his child. He will eagerly share insight about the embryonic development and the hormonal changes, deepening the intimate connection you both already share.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will admire the changes of your body and will develop a serious lactation kink. He’ll feed from your breast from time to time…for science obviously. He’s just increasing your oxytocin levels so you can produce more milk for your baby daughter. Duh.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will help his daughter with her schoolwork. I know he will probably put extra effort when it comes to her school science project and will probably be more committed to it than her. He just wants what’s best for her.

Mood board

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @ultravioletrayz @club-danger-zone @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @miguels-aranita (lmk if you want to be tagged for this au idea)

- Ayrus <3

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munariplans · 2 years ago

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36 hours | natasha romanoff

synopsis: set between civil war and black widow, your love for natasha, and her patience for your return, is tested beyond what the both of you had ever gone through before.

natasha romanoff x spider!reader

word count: 3.9k words

a/n: this is a bit messy but i felt the need to draw a general timeline for the characters of is there someone else? and your sweater. i admit i have grown a sort of attachment for the two from there, but i also wanted to know if you guys want more stories / blurbs / headcannons for these two, or whether i should try new things. let me know?

masterlist

36 hours. 36 hours to bring in a known fugitive, a possible terrorist, and his dear accomplice steve rogers. it was barely enough time.

and here tony was, making you wait outside of a window of an apartment in queens, waiting for the perfect time to, in his words, swing in and show the kid what he’s made of. you remembered telling him that you would show him what you were made of if he didn’t make it quick.

you dared to sneak a look into the bedroom the moment tony managed to sneak the kid away. he was barely fifteen. but the impressive speed that he caught his jumbled, homemade suit with when tony opened the attic door showed skill no normal fifteen year old possessed.

“you’re spider-boy?”

“...spider-man.” the boy replied, and at tony’s snap of his fingers, you slipped in, standing behind him for support as the boy gawked at your entrance.

“mm,” tony remarked, “this is our spider. you see her in a onesie like yours?”

the boy took time to rake his eyes through your advanced technical suit, crafted through years of precision and “user”-testing in the fights and missions you had managed to get injured from. every flaw was covered, every inch of space for injury accounted for.

you looked past tony to the video of the boy saving a car from crashing onto a bus, before swinging away at lightning speed. “how’d you figure out the perfect formula for the tensile strength?”

“i…”

“i like the goggles too,” you snatched the suit away from tony’s amused smirk, “good attempt at keeping the focus. sensory overload, right?”

the boy nodded. “you’re just like me. you get me.”

“i get you.” you replied, “but you’re in dire need of an upgrade.”

you stepped back this time, and watched as tony began his over-explanation, oversimplification, of the situation at hand. the kid watched with wide eyes, clinging on to every word he said, while you rubbed the material of his homemade suit between your fingers, wondering how you were going to teach him every single upgrade and function of the new suit you had designed just for him in 36 hours.

36 hours to capturing steve and bucky, and 36 hours to fixing things with natasha.

you couldn’t wait.

“i still think tony’s going a little overboard,” natasha muttered to you, arms crossed at the back of the quinjet.

you approached, the low hum of the jet preventing you from hearing her clearly earlier. she continued, “he’s ridden with guilt. he’s not thinking clearly.”

“but he’s still right.” you sat next to her, the atmosphere tense. you had been having this argument even since the idea had popped into tony’s head. “and you’re still here.”

“because i think the other side is more mistaken, not because he’s right.”

“steve is the one going overboard. he’s blinded by the love he has for his friend.”

“...weren’t you blinded by love before?” natasha accused, “for me, all those years ago?”

you were stunned for a moment. natasha knew she made a valid point. but then, you reaffirmed, “it’s different. steve made a mistake, we shouldn’t be the ones deciding who lives and who dies. i should’ve forced him to sign the accords when i had the chance.”

the sight of the airport drew nearer and nearer. in front of you, you saw peter fidget nervously in his new upgraded suit.

–

you were wrapping webs round and round the suddenly enlarged ant-man, one of his hands gripping rhodey. with an agreement for peter to strike ant-man’s legs, the giant soon fell to his knees with his entire lower half webbed, groaning when the war machine broke free from his hold.

in your peripheral vision, you saw natasha running after steve and bucky, her words ringing in your mind as you instructed peter to finish off ant-man from getting back up again. a thumbs-up was sent his way when he did, the smile on his face reaching his ears.

weren't you blinded by love before?

you hoped she would do the right thing, as you returned your attention to helping tony take down wanda and clint.

but even as you fought, her words kept coming back to your head, and by the time steve and bucky were mere seconds away from the quinjet, you made up your mind to zip to natasha to check in on her.

weren’t you blinded by love before?

you watched in horror as she stunned the black panther, him spasming and dropping to his knees. you watched with even more horror as she let the fugitives go, steve helping bucky climb into the quinjet and starting the engine. when steve shut the latch of the jet, he made eye contact with you hanging off the hangar, and nodded in thanks. he knew you were letting him go, too.

mostly, you were even more horrified at your automatic reaction to catch t’challa from lunging at her, forcing him to the ground as his claws barely missed her face. in consequence, his own claws tore through your suit instead, the vibranium stronger than the nano-technology defences you had designed the suit with.

you seethed in pain as the claws came back doused with blood, the burning on your back sure to leave a definite scar as it hit the cold air.

you struck a web to his face, before throwing him off of you and quickly webbing him to the wall of the hangar.

natasha felt your hands shaking her just moments later, still in shock that you had jumped in to help, and save her.

“the webs are not going to hold him for long, nat,” you said when her eyes managed to refocus on you, “and you just obstructed justice. you need to go, now.”

“i…i couldn’t let them…” she stuttered.

“i know, i know,” you assured her. behind you, t’challa was breaking loose. “i’ll stay here and explain everything to them. but you need to run, and hide, for a while. tony told me he was planning to send anyone helping them to the raft. i can’t let you go there.”

“what about you?” her hands tried to stop the blood seeping through her fingers from your back, but you were firm.

“i’ll be okay. i’ll come find you after i’ve settled everything here and it’s safe for you to come back.”

“promise…?” natasha knew you were right, but her heart was saying otherwise. how could she possibly bear to leave you behind and deal with her consequences? how could she go anywhere without you by her side? how would she know you’ll come find her again?

“i promise. i love you.” you left room for no argument.

she was gone by the time the black panther broke free, the ghost of the feeling of her lips against yours still replaying in your mind.

–

ross’ face was possibly on the verge of exploding, listening to tony’s recounting of events and your, arguably non-convincing reasoning, of why chasing natasha would be a fool’s errand.

“her hand slipped. she was supposed to stun bucky, hit t’challa.”

“that’s not what t’challa said. and that’s why you’re handcuffed to the table now.” ross called through your bluff, “you’re lucky you’re not sitting in a cell in the raft at all.”

the chains against your handcuff clinked the table as you sighed, waiting for your own course of beration and punishment from the team.

somewhere out there, you hoped natasha was safe, and that she had successfully escaped ross’ team sent out to arrest her.

–

years ago, a few nights after you and natasha had made your relationship official, she had asked you where you would live, if you could live anywhere in the world.

“norway,” you replied.

“why?”

“i don’t know. seems like a nice place to be. it’s calm, quiet, relatively crime-free.”

“then you would be out of a job, you know?” natasha teased, her heart skipping a beat as you let out a laugh.

“i’ll find something else,” you assured her, “i’ll survive.”

you turned to her then, prompting the same question she had asked you. she had replied, “anywhere with you.”

–

now, you were currently hinging on the sole fact that all roads and clues pointed you to her being in norway.

it had been six months since the events of the team’s civil war, a week since you had begun using a fake passport to get on flights, and three hours since you have been driving along the gravel road where her trailer was supposed to be.

truth be told, you were nervous. you were afraid of natasha’s safety, and you worried whether she was blaming herself for losing the family she had grown to love in the past few years. and selfishly, you were mostly nervous if she had forgotten you and started a new life altogether.

but natasha no longer lived in the trailer by the time you got there; you found out upon hiding and attacking the first person that entered the trailer that wasn’t her. when he choked out bitterly that she had left just an hour before you arrived with another woman, your heart sank.

they had boarded a jet and flew off to find someone. he had been helping her throughout her being in hiding. he bothered to mention that she talked about you all the time. he told you that she was losing more hope of you coming back day by day

doesn’t matter. she has someone else now.

“is she…is the girl she’s with…” you stuttered for the first time in your life. the man across from you removed the ice pack he was using to nurse the bruise you gave him.

“i don’t know. didn’t seem like it, though.”

you nodded, at a loss of what to do. now what? you came to find her, she’s gone, you don’t know where or how else to look for. and she likely has someone else now, too.

what if natasha didn’t want you back?

mason looked at you then, almost in pity. you felt very bad for punching him to get information out of him.

“for what it’s worth, with the technology you have in your suit, i’m sure i can help link it to the approximate whereabouts of the aircraft.”

you looked up to him with hope, nervousness bubbling in your stomach again. “a-are you…?”

“fuck it, i’m sick of natasha bemoaning about missing you everyday. i’m going to help you find her.”

natasha sat by the oak-coloured bench as she stared across the table to yelena, equally donning a new getup as she. downing yet another bottle of beer, she wondered if yelena deserved to know about you, or whether she was only putting you in more danger. but then, she wondered selfishly, if you were even bothered to come find her at all.

it’s been six months after all. six months without her must have been pretty peaceful for you, with all the storms and misfortune she felt she had brought into your life. maybe it was for the better that you had chased her away. maybe you had wanted her to go, so you could move on with the life you had always wanted for yourself.

fuck. the alcohol was making her want to cry. everything about you made her want to cry. natasha missed you so much. the coldness of the spot in bed beside her each night, one less coffee mug she shared each morning, the empty space beside her when she needed someone to hold her.

she never knew how dependent she had gotten on you, until you had to be separated. you have truly changed her, inside and out, and while natasha could complain about it otherwise, deep down in her heart she knew she would not have it any other way.

how long more did she have to wait?

yelena gave her a weird look, and natasha excused herself to the bathroom. she couldn’t let her sister see her like this.

but in the five minutes that she was gone, natasha came back to an empty bench, with the shop she had bought the beers from deserted and the shutters shut. it was as if the owner had suddenly upped and ran.

upped and ran. fuck. they found her.

grabbing the gun holstered to her side, natasha called out slowly, “yelena…?”

silence. “yelena?”

nothing again. her aircraft was still there, and when she approached slowly, wary of her surroundings and any widows, the crunch her boot made with a branch underneath triggered the loudest scream she had ever heard.

in the next second, a blur of two figures landed before her, wrestling to get the upper hand. yelena was screaming with all her might, and above her…above her, natasha could recognise that suit anywhere.

it had her initials carved in the inner lining of the heart area, after all.

“where is she?!” your voice sounded raspier, deeper than she remembered. you sounded tired and wary, too.

but the hands pinning yelena down said otherwise, your strength overpowering hers as yelena tried desperately to free herself from under you. “where is what–asshole–!”

“where is natasha!” you pressed down on her neck, and at the choke yelena let out, the switch finally flipped in natasha.

she screamed your name, from metres away, and at the immediate recognition, you faltered, and shot your gaze to her direction. she knew you couldn’t see her clearly under the low light of the broken street lamps, but it was her.

the next thing you knew, though, the woman under you had wrenched a hand free and shot you in the neck with a widow bite. you cursed at the sting from the shock, but then all at once, darkness ensued. it definitely wasn’t the same widow bites natasha had designed over the years.

“you nearly killed my wife, yelena!”

“how was i supposed to know that was your wife? i didn't even know you had a wife!”

when you woke to, it was yelena, the woman who nearly tried killing you, that was by your side. when the world stopped spinning for a while, you recognised that you were in the very aircraft mason had told you about.

“hi,” you groaned lowly, fingers reaching for the spot that the blonde had shot the widow bite at. it was wrapped in a bandage.

“welcome back, my sister-in-law.”

this time, she offered you a hand, and you took it gratefully to shake it. “sorry i shot you earlier. to be fair, you did try to kill me too.”

“fair game.”

the door slid open then, and at the sight of natasha entering, holding onto a pile of makeshift medication and bandages, your heart managed to stop beating for a while, if possible.

her hair was longer, face a little more tired, worry lines etched into skin that was not so taut anymore. but still, she was your natasha, and she never looked more ethereal than in that moment.

yelena had to step out of the room at the ferocity and aggressiveness that natasha engulfed you with, the squeals that left her sister’s mouth one that she would never have imagined hearing.

“you came back, you came back!” natasha said in between tears of joy, as you hugged her even tighter. the nights with her pillows never replaced her body pressed against yours.

“of course, i promised you,” you reassured, “i’ll come find you.”

“i thought–i thought–you’d given up, or i should give up,” she said between hiccups, sobs leaving her now at the incredulity of it all, “i thought you finally realised you were better off without me and–”

“nat,” you pulled her away to press a kiss firmly to her lips, “i would never do that.”

“i know. but you were gone so long and i waited. i waited and waited and…it was a long six months.”

you laughed, letting her lips chase yours once again. “it really was.”

when the two of you finally settled down and came back to earth, you snuck a glance at yelena, who you currently wished you had met in better circumstances, rather than nearly killing her to get to natasha.

“guess i didn’t get on the best footing for meeting your sister, huh?” you whispered to natasha.

she nudged your side, prompting you to smile at yelena. she gave you a weird look, but awkwardly smiled back. “yeah, and you know what’s even crazier?”

“what?”

“you’re about to meet my parents, too.”

you sat awkwardly beside natasha at the dinner table in melina’s house, shifting uncomfortably as yelena just burst out screaming that the “family” natasha had always told you was made up of red room agents, was always real to her.

you thought she looked like a child throwing a tantrum. then, you bit the inside of your cheek and berated yourself for thinking so, because yelena of all people, was a woman who never did get a childhood at all. she deserved at least this.

under the table, you felt natasha hold your hand for support. you squeezed it gently. she’s got you.

you soothingly wrapped around her trembling fingers, still. because as strong as natasha was, biting back and spitting at her “parents” then, she was still hurt, and a teardrop had fallen to the side of her face that she had quickly wiped away. the teardrop no one would have noticed, except you, who had been wiping almost all of her tears away in the years that you had been together.

later on, when your spider-senses overloaded with the impending arrival of dreykov’s men, while natasha and melina argued over their plan to finally take him down, you found it hard to ignore the crying coming from yelena’s room. and you felt even worse for what you were going to subject her to later.

–

natasha entrusted you to deal with taskmaster, while she handled the big man himself. you were about to argue, fearing for her safety and protection, but with a warning glance from her mother on your possibility of doubt over natasha’s own skills, you kept quiet. you had to trust your wife.

but what natasha failed to tell you, however, was that taskmaster was more competent, and dangerous, than all the other widows involved. she had told you that they would be difficult, sure, but you hadn’t expected difficult to include you struggling to catch your breath, making up new moves on the fly to prevent the human weapon on copying your combat style almost perfectly. they had used your agility and swiftness against you, and you were convinced that had they had your webs, you would almost certainly be done for, too.

“i don’t want to kill you,” you wheezed as you managed to sneak a move to tumble them to the ground, but the way in which they glared back at you and aimed a launcher right at your face, told you all that you needed to know. the feeling wasn’t mutual.

with the help of natasha’s father in finally locking the taskmaster in a cell momentarily, you took the opportunity to find her, even as explosions rang through your ears and the shaking of the base showing the impending signs of doom.

–

you held her as the both of you free fell through the skies, natasha’s fingers holding on to you as if you would disappear from her once again.

“i’ve got you,” you murmured into her skin. she nodded slowly, telling you she understood.

you deployed the parachute when you reached closer to the ground. natasha had gotten very good at getting over her fear of heights, as she latched on. years ago, she was still screaming in fear each time you brought her swinging through the city after your dates and missions together. now, only a small exhale left her lips as you landed her softly, safely, on the ground. you smiled to yourself at the change you only noticed now.

“i still have…i have to…” she gestured towards dreykov’s daughter, the taskmaster, behind you. you wish you had known.

you nodded understandingly. natasha was kind, kinder than anyone you knew. she was just like that. “go. do what you have to do to set her free. i’ll stay behind, in case you need help.”

“after she almost knocked you out?” a hint of a playful smirk, you jabbed her side lovingly.

“i was pulling my punches! you told me not to kill her.”

natasha snuck a kiss on your cheek. “i know. my hero.”

–

you and natasha exchanged quiet smiles throughout the ride back to ross’ prison, or custody, wherever it was. it didn’t matter. she had taken down the demons of her past, and she had gotten you back. you had found her, and you were never letting her out of your sight ever again.

weren’t you blinded by love before? nobody else mattered. not what ross had to say, not what tony had screamed at you for, not what steve or anyone else tried to convince you to do. being blinded by love for natasha was never a bad thing for you.

“i never told you, but i like your new suit,” you whispered, holding her hands through your handcuffs.

she hid the blush appearing on her cheeks. “i know. your hands said enough.”

“and your family too. your dad’s a character, and your mom’s really strong. stronger than me, that’s for sure.”

“and yelena? my sister?” she found a way to interlace her fingers with yours, to the disgust of ross’ agents. you didn’t care.

“i like her the most. she reminds me of the best parts of myself. she’s humble, kind, funny, and sensitive, not in a bad way. and she’s like you, headstrong and stubborn.” natasha suddenly felt you slipping something into her fingers. a piece of paper. she kept it skilfully from the prying eyes of the agents in the car.

“just the way you like it.”

“you bet,” you leaned back, feet “accidentally” kicking ross and causing a momentary distraction for his guards to aim their guns at you all at once. natasha took it as her signal to open the note.

there, scrawled in yelena’s handwriting, was an address that she had picked from the many safehouses you had so many years before. it was in new york, not far from where you and natasha lived. you had slipped her a burner phone before she left, too, as you informed natasha in your cells later on.

“i know it’s all real for you, too,” you reassured the redhead, “and i never got to apologise for leaving you, and your avengers family, for so long. i wanted to make it up to you. we’ll make sure yelena is never far, and you will always have her by your side from now on.”

natasha felt her cheeks hurting from the smile she was sporting. “you know, i have spent my whole life trying to go home. to go back to how things were, to undo all that i have done in the past. and i managed to do just that, just a few days ago. take down dreykov, come back to my family, go back to my childhood home. but somehow, all of that was not home anymore. at least not the home i envisioned myself to go back to.”

“and what is the home you envision now?”

“you. i come back to your arms, and it is home now. nothing else compares.”

your fingers ghosted the wedding band on your ring finger subconsciously, scrunching your eyes and trying hard to fight back the tears from falling as you listened to her declaration.

36 hours or six months. the timing never mattered. you and natasha would find each other, and come home to each other's love, regardless.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff x spidey!reader

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