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ahundredtimesover · 7 months

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I Want You to Stay (07) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 15.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: One of my fave chapters! I hope you like this one! And just a heads up that intervals between posting days will be longer as the chapters get longer, too. And bc u know, life... HAHA but again, thank you so much for all the love for this like??? HOW. PLS you've all been so nice so thank you! 🥰 Also… JK in that SNTY suit.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Mr. Ri loads the luggages in the trunk and you double check that all bags - which you helped pack yesterday - are complete. You enter the car right after and head to the airport where Jungkook will fly to Singapore for a few meetings and to attend Seokjin’s alcohol launch party.

It’s been over a month since the Arts Center event and so much has happened since then. Jungkook went to Jeju to meet an artist and then to Japan over a weekend to meet another two. He’s been on calls with a few more with plans to meet in their country of residence in the next months, and he’s gone around different local towns to meet with craftspeople for souvenirs and future exhibitions. He’s also touched base with various national and international Korean arts and culture organizations for promotion and joint projects. The event opened doors for a new network that he hoped for. There are now proposals for other collaborations and side engagements that’s doing a lot for the company’s brand and expansion.

To say that Jungkook and the team have been busy is an understatement. You went back to work after those few days of recovering with everyone overwhelmed by all the things they had to do but like you expected, you all managed and got things organized. There are still multiple things to handle all at once, but everyone’s just been on top of everything and showing how competent you all are as individuals and as a team.

Within that period, Jungkook has stopped by the team’s office and the pantry more times than those first months. He also managed to laugh at Do-hyun’s unfiltered remarks a few times and even slipped his own that got the team giggling. He’s seemed a lot more relaxed and so has the team. Lunch meetings have been regular given all the work you all have to do. Yohan and Chin-sun even say that they’ve gotten to know Jungkook a little better through their visits to the Arts Center. And while they do think he’s still a bit detached and catch him in his own world sometimes, he’s a lot more engaged and is actually way smarter than they’d initially thought.

Jungkook checks his phone and sighs, prompting you to turn to him.

“Seokjin says the party is an intimate event but there’s gonna be over two-fifty guests so I don’t know about that,” he shakes his head, showing you the restaurant bar where his friend will be launching his alcohol brand. “For some reason, he expects me and Tae to entertain guests on his behalf.”

This was another development you hadn’t expected. Since that morning when Jungkook sent you food when you were unwell, your relationship changed. It’s still professional but there’s more openness now, as if that prompted both of you to be comfortable around each other.

There’s more trust and honesty, too - he lets you make decisions, lets you handle the team when he’s away, and asks you for your unfiltered opinion. You feel like all the time you spend together has allowed you to learn how he sees and understands things; you even finish his sentences sometimes.

He’s also loosened up a bit and allows himself to laugh and smile more. They’re still rare occurrences but you never point them out, not wanting him to feel awkward and then stop. They often catch you off guard so you haven’t been able to fully appreciate them but at least he feels comfortable around you, enough to even talk about non-work stuff and things that fill his mind, like random questions or small concerns.

You’re unsure if he notices how uninhibited he’s become but you don’t point it out either. He still has his moments of living in his head, his faraway thoughts rendering him quiet and observant, and his perfectionist attitude means he’s still critical sometimes. But he doesn’t take anything out on you - not his frustrations nor his fears. He’d usually keep to himself and talk to you once he’s cooled down and you’d take that any day, so long as you keep your sanity and are able to do your tasks as instructed.

In return, you let yourself be the same. You’ve fully restored your confidence and that’s allowed you to show just how capable you are. You’ve been more vocal with your thoughts, too, and don’t take it personally when he doesn’t agree. You smile a lot more, joke with him even, and have been more generous with words of encouragement and affirmation. They come more naturally than you expected, and you appreciate that he doesn’t turn you away whenever it happens.

He’s actually okay to be around when he’s not being grumpy or difficult. You suppose that the situations he was put in - and how you responded with patience and understanding - allowed him to see that you’re truly on his side and that let him put his guard down a little. You’re past trying to please him for the sake of making your job bearable; there’s actual joy in it now, and while the search for who you are outside of all this continues to ring in your head, you think that sticking around for now isn’t so bad either.

“Perhaps Seokjin has seen how good you are with entertaining guests now and deems you worthy of being an extension of him,” you respond to Jungkook’s earlier musings. “And he wouldn’t be wrong. You’ve become really good at it.”

“You know, I think you oversell me sometimes,” he chuckles.

“Hmm, I think I don’t,” you counter. “If I may say so, Mr. Jeon, it's just that the bar was pretty low so the improvements are quite striking.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, not taking offense.

“You can still do better at charming people. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Seokjin and Taehyung,” you push.

“Those two flirt, they don’t charm,” he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well, I completely disagree, sir. I mean, I’ve seen it firsthand. And I’m not one who’s easily charmed.”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can pick from them, then,” he concedes.

“Kidding aside, I think you’ll be fine, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s unrelated to work so there’s no need to impress anyone,” you state.

“True,” he hums. “But just thinking about these next few days is already making me tired. Tae rented a yacht for tonight. We have Seokjin’s launch tomorrow, and to celebrate, he’s throwing another party the day after.”

“Hmm, must be that you’re getting old,” you tease, earning you a hum in agreement. “But you’re used to that though, right? They always said that was your life back in Singapore.”

“It was. I had less responsibilities and people to manage but back then, everything seemed too much,” he shares. “I took the weekends seriously and really just did whatever I wanted. I haven’t done much of that these past weeks because I’ve been so tired and I feel like I’m under the microscope when I’m here. So yeah, I’ll probably just take advantage of being back there and just enjoy it.”

“As you should,” you say. “You’ve worked hard and you deserve to spend your weekend however you wish. Just, uh…”

“What?”

“Probably give Lucas a heads-up in case a half-naked woman greets him in the kitchen on Monday morning.”

The silence is deafening and you think you’ve crossed a line with this one. You turn towards him and he looks stunned at your unfiltered remark.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in apology. “That was too personal.”

“It’s okay,” he responds after a beat of silence. “I guess I deserve that. I mean, I never apologized for the morning when you experienced exactly that. And for when you found that underwear on the floor, which I forgot to clean up. So, uh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, too. I got over it,” you assure him. “And if anything, I’m pretty sure she left that on purpose so she’ll have a reason to come back.”

“That’s exactly it,” he groans. “She saw me again and wanted to go to my apartment so she could get it. I told her I threw it away.”

“How brutal,” you tease again.

“Not my finest moment but yeah, I’m sorry to put you in that position. Must’ve been tough seeing proof of all the washroom gossip.”

“You know about those?” You gasp.

“I’ve heard about them,” he sighs. “Mr. Ri’s got eyes and ears in the office.”

“It’s hard to defend so I just don’t try,” the older man shakes his head. “Not like you deny it anyway.”

“Not like I really care,” Jungkook shrugs. “But even then, I guess it wasn’t the best start for us,” he tells you.

“Perhaps not, but I’m not one to judge, Mr. Jeon. That’s all in the past now, and that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It does,” he hums.

It’s during these casual exchanges when you get to see a bit more of Jungkook as the person that he is, beyond the perfectionist executive who still harbors fears and worries about his new role. He’s still a human being who finds ways to deal with the stresses of life, someone who needs time to step away from his burdensome responsibilities, someone who seeks intimacy and connection and finds ways to attain them in his own ways. The doubts and worries are still there, but the foundation has stabled a bit. Somehow you think that you’ve created a space safe enough for him to talk about them, to apologize, and to try to be better. You hope he gets to create that for himself, too, and if that’s what you’ll leave him with by the time you decide to step away from this job, you think you’d be satisfied.

Silence engulfs you both and like he often is after being vulnerable with you, he keeps to himself once again. You wait a while before running through his meetings for today and next week and inform him of what the team will be working on while he’s away. Jungkook responds with a few last-minute instructions, especially about the tasks he needs done in time for your team meeting on Monday. You’re both back to professional talk and you don’t really mind; there’s something about being honest and open that could be a bit disarming.

The car stops and Mr. Ri exits to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. Jungkook, in his navy blue suit, gathers his things and says goodbye. Before he can close the door, you call out his name.

“Yeah?” He asks, his one hand carrying his bag and the other, on the roof of the car as he bends to look at you.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “I know you think it’s just an ordinary day but I hope you celebrate well.”

“Thank you,” he says after a few seconds, basking in the softness of your smile for the short moment that he can.

Jungkook steps away then closes the door. He heads to the airport lounge before taking the 6-hour flight to Singapore, spending it on reviewing reports and design proposals. He goes straight to the office when he lands, settling down in his room where he responds to emails. He munches on some dumplings for lunch, thinking he’s missed the ones from the restaurant across the street, but then Lucas enters and sets down a bowl of seaweed soup.

“Ms. Cho asked me to get this for you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook is caught off guard but manages to dismiss Lucas and tastes the dish. It’s nothing like his mother’s, but then again, he hasn’t had it in years. When Jungkook moved here, there were no celebrations apart from getting drunk at a club, which is also why he’d stopped thinking of his birthday as anything special. There were no traditional meals or well wishes or birthday cakes.

He’s here again. There’s that yacht party tonight but it won’t feel like a celebration. Somehow, with this bowl of soup, this does. You’re a thousand miles away but even then, he still feels your presence. Even then, he feels more cared for than he has these past several years combined.

Jungkook wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache. His neck feels a bit strained, given that he’d slept in an awkward position wearing his clothes from last night. He also barely remembers much. One minute he was drinking with a woman around his arm and the next he’s… here.

He shifts and lays flat on his back, groaning as last night’s happenings manifest in the soreness of his entire body. The yacht was fancy, as he’d expected from his best friends. There was overflowing food and drinks, the music was great, and the guests were honestly too many for his liking. There were familiar faces and new ones, but he mostly stuck around with those he knew. What he also remembers is not being able to taste his cake. He’s definitely calling Seokjin to complain.

Suddenly hit with the thought of not knowing how he’d gotten home last night - or with whom - Jungkook sits up and groans once more, the incoming call adding to the ringing sound in his head.

“Mr. Jeon,” Lucas answers on the other end. “How are you feeling today?”

“Terrible,” Jungkook says, now finding the strength to get off the bed. “Did you take me home?”

“Yes, sir. You wanted to leave so Mr. Ri and I took you to your penthouse,” Lucas answers. “Your valuables are on the table.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing it was one of those nights. Removing his clothes, he sees the fresh marks on his chest. Wanting to prepare himself before finding some stranger in the other room, he asks his assistant if he’d brought someone home with him.

“No, sir. It was just you. She, uh, she asked to come but you told her you were too tired so she stayed behind.”

“Oh, good,” Jungkook exhales in relief, not wanting to deal with any of that this morning, which is one reason why he always asks them to leave. “How long do I have until I have to get ready for tonight?”

“About five hours,” the younger man replies. “You have a scheduled dinner with your friends at 5:30 and then the event at 8. I’ll be there before that to help you get ready.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll just workout to deal with this hangover.”

“Medicines are in the cupboard, sir. Please just let me know if there’s anything more you need.”

“I will.”

Jungkook hangs up and presses on his temples as if that’ll do anything. He retrieves the medicine as advised and thinks of something else he needs - a cup of lemon ginger tea. Ever since you’d prepared one for him that one morning, he’s been having it after every night out. He calls the butler to have it prepared for him, given that he doesn’t have the energy to do so himself.

It arrives, and coupled with the aspirin, he’s starting to somehow feel better. He knows that heading to the gym will do the trick, as it always does, but it still makes him think that he shouldn’t have drank as much as he did last night.

For someone who’s not particularly fond of people, even Jungkook sometimes wonders why he goes out and parties as much as he does.

He wasn’t always like this though. His weekends used to be spent on food trips and travels, but after the breakup with Chaerin, those days became free, and he’d stay out late so he could sleep the rest of the next day. The women were to make up for the loneliness; the alcohol was to forget why he needed them in the first place. He hates loud and unnecessary sounds, but the music and the chatter started to become white noise for him; they’d become a companion to help deal with the noise in his own head, or the lack of it.

Years later, the remaining thoughts in his mind were just all about work, and he’d revert to the same habit for relief - the women became his thrill; the alcohol was so he wouldn’t remember them.

And it works. The ecstasy lasts only through the night. It’s fleeting as his desire for them is. He doesn’t recall names, just that they made him feel good and that they felt the same; they often try to hook up with him again after all, seeking him in the clubs they know he frequents. But he rarely entertains them; a second time leads to a third, and he can’t be assured that they won’t ask the same tiring questions he hates hearing - why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he want to commit to anyone? Does he see himself settling down and having a family? What’ll make him want that?

It’s happened a few times, during the rare instances that there’s a lull in between and they take advantage of his brief period of vulnerability to make him open up. He never does, and it’s not because he thinks it’s a weakness to do so, but he just never really let the moment linger to find out.

After a light meal, Jungkook heads to the gym and spends three hours expending his energy so he could get it back.

This is his other means of dealing with his stress. Working out makes him focus on something else and it helps in releasing all his anger and frustration. As he stares at his bare body in the mirror right after - the marks from last night still visible - he scoffs at himself.

He’s so stereotypical, it makes him sick. He’s allowed himself to let his life revolve around the shallow and fleeting sensations of pleasure to counter the permanence and inevitability of his job. This is his world and he made it this way. And while he drowns in the nothingness inside the walls that he created, he still thinks it’s better than being outside; somehow he thinks it’s lonelier and more burdensome out there. At least in here, he’s all he has to deal with; he’s all he can disappoint.

But there are still moments when he wonders what it could be like if he just dared to live differently. Like when he watches Seokjin animatedly explain the history and creation process of Korean traditional alcohol during the product launch that evening and how his passion is moving and infectious. Or when he observes how Taehyung freely moves around the club and makes connections with others as deep as his smile.

Jungkook thinks about all this as he glances at the woman next to him later that night, bare under the covers like he is, her body curled into a cocoon as she takes a break.

She’d caught his eye earlier because she wasn’t trying to get his attention like the others were. She spoke less and screamed more, let him do what he wanted but touched him softly as she pleased.

“You’re a good lover. Why do you waste yourself with something temporary like me?” She’d asked.

It left him speechless and he shrugged - a change from his usual dismissal - but there’s really nothing to say.

Why does he? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to.

But it’s at this moment that he tries to imagine what it would be like if it were the same face he saw next to him every morning, if it were the same hand he held everyday, if it were the same warm body he curled into every night. His mind wanders too far, into the depths of a place it can’t go to, beyond boundaries he can’t cross, and the sight is both terrifying and calming.

It’s safer where he is.

So when she wakes up from a short nap, she looks up at him, her soft eyes wishing for something she knows she shouldn’t.

“You should go,” he says, the softest he’s ever uttered the words.

“Okay,” she whispers in submission.

She gets up from the bed, finds her stray clothes on the floor, and puts them on. Jungkook follows her to the door, a first for him. Maybe it’s her gentleness, or the unspoken understanding between them, or maybe because she doesn’t ask for more even if she seems to want to.

But though he contemplates pulling her back to try to feel what that’s like - seeing her in the morning, holding her hand, curling into her embrace - he doesn’t. He knows even that desire would end; it’s fleeting just as everything around him is.

He holds open the door. She turns around with a smile.

“I hope someday you find someone you’ll ask to stay,” she says, surprising him again. “I’m sure they would.”

You walk around the store in awe of the luscious plants displayed on the shelves, your eyes as bright as the lights that shine over them. There are so many to choose from, and though you have an idea of what you want to have, it’s tough deciding which ones to get right now. The money tree is a must, so is the Chinese evergreen. But do you go for the orchid or the peace lily? Can you keep up with a spider plant? How many of the asparagus ferns should you get?

Your eyes flit from one plant to the next, eventually deciding on getting everything on your list then placing them on the cart for payment.

Jimin chuckles next to you. “Since when were you a plant mom?”

“Since she got that aloe vera from Yoongi and she was convinced that she has a green thumb after it didn’t die,” Soomin deadpans next to you as you frown at her sarcasm. “That’s also after my weekly reminders to water the plant because ‘no care’ doesn’t actually mean it’s going to survive on its own.”

“Oh, shush,” you scoff at her. “You told me I was doing a good job.”

“You’d send a photo every few days, hun,” she laughs. “What else was I supposed to say?”

“True. I needed the encouragement,” you shrug, paying for your haul. “But also, I’m a plant newbie. Yoongi said that I probably need some of them at home and in the office for positive energy and he’s not wrong. All the frustration from months ago just accumulated in my apartment and I need a change.”

“So… Is Yoongi a plant dad, too?” Soomin wonders.

“No. He just knows about a lot of things,” you reply. “Plus, he’s an architect and a designer. He knows a thing or two about plant decor.”

“Why isn’t he here with you, then?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Because I’m with both of you, duh,” you roll your eyes. “And before you say anything more, I don’t really like mixing my work friends with my personal friends. It’s different.”

“Well, I’m glad we could join you on this new phase of your life,” Jimin tries to be encouraging. “It’s like turning over a new leaf.”

You scold him over his terrible pun but laugh anyway, enjoying the comfort and playfulness that only your best friends could bring. They picked you up from work last Friday then you all headed to a club after dinner. You spent yesterday at a beach at their insistence then stayed in during the evening. It’s now Sunday and you’re dragging them around as you run errands before saying goodbye to them again, and it’s not a normal day without Soomin mentioning Yoongi. Perhaps it’s because of all the guys you’ve mentioned that have taken interest in you, he’s the only true green flag; he’s also the only one you didn’t entertain at all. You suppose that’s something she’ll not really get over.

The three of you head to a nearby cafe. Jimin excitedly talks about the latest menu item in their chain of restaurants while Soomin groans about the stuff she has to deal with as she manages her family-owned shipping company that’s the biggest in the port city of Busan. They turn to you and ask how the rest of your week is going to go, with slightly surprised looks when you don’t talk about work with as much disdain as you used to. There’s excitement, even, something that Soomin points out, and when you mention that Jungkook is on an overseas trip, she assumes that’s the reason why.

“Not really,” you clarify. “He arrives tomorrow evening, but the week’s packed - we’re visiting the Arts Center for inspection and then I’m doing an ocular with Chin-sun for the VP events we’re holding in the next few months. I mean, I won’t be buried in files nor will I be in meetings all week. So yeah, it’s not bad.”

“That’s good,” Jimin beams. “At least it’s nothing like how it used to be. Right?”

“It’s a lot better, I told you guys,” you say, reminding them of a similar talk you had the last time they were here, which was a week after you’d gotten sick. “Jungkook is… rational, less grumpy and impulsive; he also listens to me and trusts me. He’s even smiled a few times.”

“Wow, he really set the bar low for you, huh,” Jimin chuckles, earning him a nod.

“Does that also mean that he’s now completely bearable and no longer your type because he’s not an asshole anymore?” Soomin chimes in, being the blunt and bold one among the three of you.

“He never was my type in the first place,” you scowl. “Plus, he’s literally my boss, Soo. That’s like, not some flag, it’s a whole ass brick wall that shall not be crossed.”

“Right. That’s why Mr. Min didn’t make the cut,” she points out. “Told you you should’ve just quit your job so you could date him.”

“And I also told you that wasn’t the only reason why I didn’t want to,” you remind her. “Yoongi’s exactly the type of person I need in my life, and being more than friends is the surefire way of making sure that doesn’t happen. Like, why would I risk a good friendship for something that may not work out? Whether I break his heart or he breaks mine, it’s pain I can’t handle. There’s just no going back from there.”

“Right, that is your biggest fear,” Soomin replies softly, the sympathetic tone in her voice telling you that she does understand where you’re coming from. “I mean, it’s still possible that you wouldn’t hurt each other but I get it. It just sucks, I guess. The good ones often start as your friends.”

“I know. And I’d rather have them and be single than none at all,” you sigh.

The thought is simpler than it seems. You won’t deny that you’ve thought of how things would’ve been if you gave Yoongi a chance, but the fear of what you’d lose always trumped that type of possibility.

There’s a kind of pain you don’t want to experience, one of a broken heart caused by losing someone you’ve given your all to. It’s how you think you love, after all; you can’t give any less. But it’s also why you’ve never done it. No one’s inspired that kind of devotion for you.

Soomin has pointed out before that it’s probably also because you don’t open yourself up to the possibilities as you should. Maybe you’ve just been too focused on other things. But maybe you also just haven’t felt the kind of all-consuming desire for someone who would be worth it, one you’d want so much that you’d willingly face the fear of paralyzing heartbreak just to be with them.

You suppose that’s the difference. That’s the irony, too. You’re scared to love because you’re scared of the pain, so you keep your distance to keep yourself safe but it’s also why you haven’t found someone you’re willing to crawl out of your walls for.

There’s not much you feel passionate about in life. Maybe it’s love. But you’re too cautious to feel it, to look for it, so you don’t really know. Maybe it’s something else completely, and working in the environment that you do hinders you from discovering it. You’ve kept your distance from a lot of things over the past years and the thought that one day, you’ll be able to feel free from all the burden you carry because of a past you couldn’t control, makes you look forward to the day when you get to walk away from all those and hopefully, find whatever it is you’re looking for.

Jimin nudges you after you zone out, and you switch the subject and ask about the latest gossip in their hometown. You enjoy living vicariously through their social life back in Busan. They not only come out here to Seoul to see you but also to take a break from all the drama that they can’t really escape from, given the type of people in their circle of friends. You always thank the heavens you got lucky that at 10 years old and making a new life in a new city, you found Soomin and Jimin, perhaps the only other people aside from your mother who make you feel safe and protected, a feeling you don’t take for granted.

They indulge you and share some stories, but when Soomin goes through her social media feed to show you something, she gasps instead when she realizes that the men in her friend’s Instagram post include Jungkook.

“Did your boss just go there to party?” She asks, showing you the photo.

“Partly,” you reply. “His best friend hosted the launch of his alcohol line there but there are a couple more parties because it’s his birthday weekend. Your friends went?”

“Yeah, some of them are Kim Seokjin’s friends, apparently,” Soomin says. “Small world. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Seoul and Busan socialites attract each other.”

“Why aren’t you there, then?” You chuckle.

“We’re choosy socialites,” Jimin clarifies. “Or like, pretentious. We just act like we are but we really aren’t, just to say that the Park and Cheon kids are interesting and sociable like the rest of them.”

“Who says they’re interesting and sociable?” Soomin states incredulously. “My eyes roll to the back of my head every time I’m in those shitty events. The lack of self-awareness of rich people repulses me. And I obviously don’t count us in.”

“And you shouldn’t,” you confirm. “I attract good people, I guess. I’m glad you’re not like them.”

“Well, what about Jungkook’s friends?” Jimin asks. “How are they like?”

“What I can say about the Kim brothers is that they’re nice people,” you say. “Very charming, ridiculously good-looking... And they sound like good friends, too. I can’t say much else. Their dating game is pretty strong though.”

“I’d assume. I mean, when you look like that, how could you not be?” Soomin states. “I mean, even Jungkook’s on point. That’s some hot girl he’s got.”

She shows you a couple of Instagram stories from her friends posting about the launch party. It turns out, there were a lot of Korea-based personalities who were invited. You spot Jungkook immediately, wearing the all-white ensemble that you packed for him the other day. His hair is a bit curled and the knitted top underneath the simple coat highlights his taut physique. There’s also that gorgeous woman around his arms, and if what you know about him is enough, you’d guess she’s probably one of those he seeks for a good time.

The sight of him loosening up a bit and enjoying himself is something you appreciate. He’s always stressed when he’s here and you’re glad he could spend a few days partying elsewhere without having to think about work, especially during the week of his birthday. You don’t know how much of this aspect of his life he enjoys, but he does seem a bit free yet still somehow detached. You suppose that’s something he’ll always be - a man trying to live his life while separating himself from the meaning of it. You’re unsure of how he does it but perhaps it’s not that different from how you are, too.

After lunch, Soomin and Jimin do a few more of your errands with you before dropping you home and then heading back to theirs. You spend the rest of the evening arranging your plants in your tiny apartment and feeling like more life is breathed into it with every one of them finding their home in a corner or on a shelf. Oddly enough, you feel a bit less lonely. That’s how you think you’ve been doing things, after all - finding substitutes for the kind of company you’re yearning for, for the kind of relationship you’re so afraid to have.

Jungkook wakes up that Monday morning feeling a lot better than he did the days before. For one, there’s no ringing in his head nor the feeling of dehydration. Bare under his soft covers, there also aren’t any fresh marks on his chest that signify the kind of night he usually has. In fact, he remembers most of it - he stayed by the bar and briefly chatted with the women who’d approached him.

Suzy was there last night, too, the only one he’s hooked up with more than once, and probably the only one he’s had proper conversations with, given that she’s a landscape designer. She’s been away on business trips and had just gone back, her bluntness about going back to his apartment that she’s too familiar with being met with a rejection that she didn't take personally.

“Has Seoul changed you?” She asked, her eyebrow arched in anticipation of his reply.

“Do you think a place would do that to me?” He laughed.

“No, but a person would,” she shrugged.

“None of that,” he shook his head. “There’s no one. I’m too busy, too tired.”

“But not too lonely?” she asked. “It’s the only reason why you would call me.”

There was no bitterness in her words but still, he asked. “And why did you always come, then?”

“To see if each time would be good enough for you to not make me leave.”

The conversation took a turn that he didn’t expect, the usual honesty in her words being too honest for him. He fumbled for something to say but she shook him off, claiming that she knew what she was getting into every time he took her home and that constantly hoping for something doesn’t guarantee that she’d get it one day.

He drank a couple of glasses of whiskey after she left but managed to call his butler for a sandwich and lemon ginger tea in time for his arrival at his penthouse. The meal did the trick, as he’d slept soundly after a warm bath without a splitting headache and regrets the next day.

It’s Monday, after all, and it’s back to work as usual. He has a few meetings to attend before flying back to Seoul, one of which is with the team. He gathers the energy to get off the bed for a half-hour exercise before getting ready. He eats the breakfast that the butler orders for him then heads to the office where he briefly meets with Lucas.

Settled on his desk, he proceeds to virtually meet with the team, who all promptly greet him from the conference room. He asks how their weekend was, with most of them looking surprised because he rarely asks them about it, but they answer anyway. That’s when he notices that you’re not around, prompting him to look for you.

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you answer off camera before appearing on screen with a candle-lit cake in your hands.

He’s surprised when the team sings him a happy birthday, your eyes fixed on him as you mouth the words with a soft smile on your face. Do-hyun giggles at his silence, saying that he probably forgot it was his birthday or he maybe didn’t expect that they’d prepare something for him.

“We like you now, Mr. Jeon,” she teases, earning him a nudge from Chin-sun but she doesn’t seem to mind and neither does he.

It’s what makes him laugh, hoping that the pink on his cheeks aren’t visible on screen. He hadn’t expected this. He also knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’d bet that you had everything to do with this.

“You’ve probably been too busy to celebrate but we haven’t forgotten. More like, Ms. Cho made sure we remembered,” Manager Lee chuckles. “We hope you enjoy this little something we prepared.”

“It’s an ice cream cake so it’ll just be in your refrigerator and you can have some when you return,” you say.

“Thank you,” he finally manages to say. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it. I’m looking forward to having some when I get back. Ms. Cho should also buy another one big enough for the team to share.”

You nod in acknowledgment of his instruction before starting with the meeting. There’s a lot to talk about, given the Arts Center construction and activities, as well as the upcoming year-end events that they have to organize and coordinate. It goes on for over two hours and it ends with your gentle smile after he says goodbye.

The rest of the day feels too long for Jungkook, especially during the late afternoon flight and eventual ride home. He stares at the photo you sent of the cake, making sure he sees the greeting on it.

“Get home safely, Mr. Jeon,” you text him after he says thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With the reminders of the impermanence of things and people this weekend, Jungkook finds comfort in the stability that you provide. It’s in your smile, in your reminders and organization of his life, in your thoughtfulness and patience. It’s in the assurance that tomorrow is another day, one in which he gets to see you once again.

The cake is simple but sophisticated. The mint chocolate flavor is exactly how he likes it and in ice cream cake form, it’s really delicious. He’s glad he gets to have this all for himself, as the team was able to enjoy one yesterday as per his instruction, and you’d sent a group photo of everyone enjoying it to him, the small smile that formed on his face no longer surprising him.

For one, the comfort is there. He’s seen just how much better the team is working together because of it - they’re more open to giving him feedback and receiving his, any moment of frustration is easily mended with laughter, and his encouragement and affirmation have been motivating them as well. In the midst of it is you who makes sure that communication flows smoothly and that everything is on track, acting as the glue that keeps everyone together.

He sees firsthand just how good you are at handling things, and how despite all the stress, you manage to get him seaweed soup and a cake for his birthday. It’s more than just the details regarding work that you’re on top of; it’s also details about his life, and how he’s responding to it tells him that maybe, whatever change there is like what Suzy observed, a big part of it is because of you.

“I’m glad you like it, Mr. Jeon,” your voice cuts through his thoughts.

He looks up and sees you with a portfolio in hand, motioning towards the cake that’s now one fourth eaten.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, not denying it. “I feel like I haven’t had sweets in a while. Where did you buy this?”

“Oh, uh, I asked the baker who made desserts for the Arts Center event if she could make a customized ice cream cake,” you explain. “Fortunately she could. And thankfully it’s delicious. She enjoyed working with us so she gave us a discount.”

“You… had this made for me?”

He’d expected it to be store-bought, but learning you made the effort to reach out to someone reminds him once more of your thoughtfulness, of your care.

“Yes, I, uh, I just assumed you’d receive a few and I thought to give you something a little different.”

“It’s the only one I got actually,” he says, catching you off guard. Your face falls a little so he follows it up. “Like I told you, I don’t celebrate my birthday so I don’t let people know about it. And the ones who do also know that I don’t make a big deal out of it so they don’t really give me anything.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little sad.

You’re not one to have big celebrations but you do have a bit of it. For your 30th birthday at the start of the year, Jimin and Soomin threw you a little party in your humble home in Daegu where they performed some of your favorite songs and enacted your favorite drama scenes to make you happy. There was no need for anything fancy - just your loved ones and your mom’s and Min-woo’s amazing cooking.

But even before that milestone, your friends always made sure to at least get you seaweed soup and a birthday cake; they want you to remember that there are lives impacted because you were born. You can’t really say that Jungkook’s impacted your life the same way but you still value his existence; a small cake is just a little something to celebrate that. But the idea that his family and friends pass up on the cake - and perhaps the gifts, too - makes you think that there’s really not much in Jungkook’s life he feels he could share with others, that there’s not much he could give and receive in return.

“I hope I didn’t cross a line if it’s something you don’t like people knowing,” you continue. “I just thought… it would be nice to receive something from us.”

“It actually was,” he admits, his voice soft and low. Turning away, he says, “it’s been a while since I actually thought about my birthday as anything other than ordinary. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes. So thank you, Ms. Cho. For the soup, too. I appreciate it.”

Perhaps it’s his honesty that does it, but you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. If learning how to express gratitude is something you could teach him, you already feel accomplished.

It’s the next day when you find yourself back in Jungkook’s office, staring at the potted plant in your hands. You’ve gone from debating on whether to leave it on his desk or the coffee table, to even giving it at all. You won’t lie and say you didn’t know what you were thinking when you passed by the plant store after work last night to get this specifically for him. You did - you wanted him to feel that joy of receiving a gift, which you suppose doesn’t happen, especially for someone who can literally buy anything he wants.

But still, it doesn’t mean that your good intention will be received well. You’ve given Hoseok a small gift every year for his birthday, partly because he likes receiving them and also because it’s your way of saying thanks.

You want to give this to Jungkook as a form of gratitude, too. Despite how you both started, the amount of things you’ve learned from him and continue to have somehow made up for it, and you also know that he’s learning from you as well. He’s given you agency to make decisions. He’s also given you events and small projects to manage, making you realize it’s what you really enjoy doing. Seeing things come together the way you envisioned it is so satisfying. Perhaps without intending it, Jungkook’s showed you a way out, a path that you want to explore so much that you’re willing to let go of all that you know in this company for something new, for something that feels more like you.

Your thoughts have completely digressed and with the time you took debating and reflecting, you hadn’t heard his footsteps, and so you jerk a little when he calls out your name.

Turning around, you bow in greeting, remembering at the same time that you have something that you’re not 100% sure yet you want to give right now. But as always, he calls you out on it.

“Is that a snake plant?” He asks, walking towards his seat.

“Yes.”

“Is that the one on your desk?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you laugh dryly, knowing you can’t turn back from it now. “I… I meant to give it to you, sir. I just thought that, uh, the money tree on the shelf might be too lonely so I got you a desk plant. I heard it’s good for positive energy and to filter the air.”

“It is,” he hums. “Is that why you got yourself one?”

“I suppose. I figured it could help improve my mood. Yoongi suggested it before but I just kept pushing it back. I finally got some for my apartment last weekend,” you explain, just so he knows it didn’t come out of nowhere.

“And you think this will improve my mood?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “We’ll probably need a dozen of them here but we could start with one.”

He matches your soft laughter with his own, which you’re thankful for. He reaches out for the plant, nonchalant like you when your fingers brush against each other.

“Hopefully this will work,” he says as he places the small, white pot next to his desktop.

You leave him so he could prepare for a conference call while you’re set to meet with the marketing team. Jungkook gazes at the plant and notices the little note attached to the string around the stem.

Happy birthday, it reads.

This wasn’t just something to match the money tree that Hoseok left for him that he hasn’t been caring for much. This was a gift for him. You probably assume that if he doesn’t receive birthday cakes, he wouldn’t be receiving gifts, either. And you’d be right. His best friends just throw him parties. And once he left Seoul to obtain his MBA in Singapore and stayed to work in their Southeast Asian headquarters, the distance between him and his parents grew. They’d reach out but he didn’t bother much, so he’d stopped expecting anything. After he broke up with Chaerin, he stopped receiving anything at all. This is the first time he’s gotten something from someone after a long time.

It’s simple in its meaning and honest in its intention, and he doesn’t hold back the smile that forms on his face.

You watch the realization dawn on Jungkook from outside. You’d remembered the silly note you left right as you sat down and didn’t have time to take it back, which really wasn’t much, but you suppose it’s enough to tell him that the plant indeed is a gift. You don’t know if someone like him even receives them, or would even appreciate something so cheap and humble, but the gentle smile he has on tells you that he probably doesn’t get much, but that this is something he welcomes.

Your smile follows soon after but it feels different this time. There’s pride somehow that your little gift could elicit something so rare out of him. There’s also a bit of awe; this is the softest he’s ever looked, with that tinge of gratitude and yearning, a complete contrast to what you know of him, to how you’ve always seen him. It’s… it’s actually beautiful.

And this is when things start to get confusing, especially as your phone beeps with that SMS from him.

[From: The Boss] Thank you, ___.

It’s the non-work message. It’s the use of your name. This is personal for him and you acknowledge that it’s the same for you. Perhaps there’s a reason why you made the effort to get the gift last night, why it mattered to you that he received something to celebrate his birthday, and why seeing him appreciate it the way he does is making you giddy and satisfied at the same time.

Maybe it’s the care you’re starting to feel for him that’s beyond just wanting to make your job bearable. You’ll dissect what that truly means later on, but right now it’s just you, him, and the glass wall in between the both of you. There’s distance, there’s a boundary, but there’s a transparent barrier that allows you to see what’s on the other side, one which allows you to know who he is behind the man you’ve come to know. And you admit, he’s not so bad after all.

The construction of the Arts Center is going better than expected. Given some of the delays due to the wrong materials delivered and some permits that took a while to get, the workers were able to make up some ground, largely due to Jungkook’s supervision. When you both visited a few weeks ago, there were many things to work on, and he managed to identify the priorities and find ways to get the project back on track.

It was during those few days of constantly being on site that you saw how efficient and effective he really works. You admired his precision and attention to detail, how he instructed the team leads and project managers and laborers, how he put together the design of one of the rooms just as he’d envisioned it.

He was commanding and decisive, and you appreciated his thorough and simple explanations that allowed you to keep up with him. He’s said that he wants you to understand what’s happening so that you’re well-informed should you need to communicate to others on his behalf, and what initially intimidated you turned into something you became interested in. Since then, you’ve been watching design shows to help you further. The challenge was welcomed, and now you feel like everyday, you’re learning something new on the job.

His instructions from that time were followed, and you’re back today to inspect the rest of the spaces. Everything is so massive, and with one half of the wall of the performance hall already done, you can clearly see the upgrade. The details are impressive, and the way that the traditional designs merge with modern elements is a feature itself.

You’re immersed in the intricacies of the ceiling, walking towards the wall to get a closer look that you don’t immediately notice the workers walking past you with a massive slab of marble. The moment that you do, you step back too quickly, tripping on your heels, and just as you brace yourself to hit the ground, you instead feel your back against a firm chest, with hands on your elbows breaking your fall.

You sigh in relief, even leaning your head back because nothing could be more embarrassing than falling on your ass in front of many people, including your boss. That is, until the familiar scent of jasmine and bergamot wafts through your nose and you realize that what you just did is debatably more embarrassing than what could’ve happened.

The familiar clearing of the throat is what finally does it for you, and with wide eyes, you turn around and face him to apologize.

“I’m sorry, sir. I—”

“Was so much in awe that you didn’t notice the workers passing by,” he finishes, his slightly teasing smile calming you down.

“Ah, well of course. The details are too pretty,” you reason, stepping back only a little. You look at him shyly. “But thank you. I was about to fall.”

“I know. And I was about to lose it if my assistant got injured on the job.”

“True. It’s bad publicity, I guess,” you shrug. “And distractions could cause delays. And that’s bad, too.”

“Or you know, I simply just can’t have you injured, simple as that,” he says with a little frown on his face.

“Imagine if I didn’t see them? They could’ve dropped the marble and I would’ve completely lost it!”

“Why?” He arches an eyebrow.

“That slab is like, two months’ worth of salary, Mr. Jeon.”

“It’s actually more but that’s not the point,” he fully frowns now. “If you didn’t see them, then they could’ve hit you, and then you would be whining in pain right now. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, ___.”

His voice is firm and low, and you nod in acknowledgment because you also know he’s right. The workers’ vision was limited but yours wasn’t; you were just too distracted and if you hadn’t pulled early enough, that marble really could’ve done damage to you. And if it wasn’t for Jungkook catching your fall, then something bad still would’ve happened to you.

“But are you okay? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?” He asks.

“No. Uh, the heel’s just a bit loose but I’m fine,” you reply, still trying to wrap your head around how he’d said your name - informally, in this setting, as he told you that you could’ve gotten hurt. Maybe you weren’t imagining the worried tone of his voice earlier.

“Okay,” he sighs. “You have to be careful next time.”

“I will, sir,” you reply.

You step aside and Jungkook sees you from his peripheral vision as he returns to assessing, staying put and only glancing at the ceiling unlike earlier. He’d seen you marvel at the design of the hall earlier, and while he was initially doing the same, seeing you wide-eyed and impressed caught his attention more.

Many times, he’s seen you look dejected, frustrated, angry. He’s seen your moments of focus and joy, too, but this is the first time he’s seen you be in awe. There was this softness on your face that was still filled with emotion, and he’d been drawn to you enough to see that you were about to fall. He’s glad he has quick reflexes and was able to get to you in time, the worry he felt at the thought of you getting hurt in any way was quite overwhelming for him. And while it’s partly because you’re his responsibility in this case, he also knows it’s more than that.

He gestures moving to another room and you follow him outside, and just as you try to stay close to him, Jungkook also makes sure you’re away from any kind of danger. He moves to your side when there are workers nearby with their heavy equipment and large materials. He shields you from the drilling. He glances at you as you both walk towards the other performance hall. And when you get there, you see the ceiling installation is ongoing, and Jungkook immediately calls for hard hats for the both of you.

He hands you one and you put it on, fumbling with the strap underneath your chin. You groan in frustration when you’re unable to lock it, and that’s when you see him move towards you.

“Let me,” he says.

You stop your movements and shyly nod in agreement, and he waits for you to let go before he fixes it himself.

It’s a little odd being on the other side, since it’s always you who fixes his tie or his coat. But you’re the one watching him now, with his furrowed brows and seriousness in securing this safety gear on you making you feel warm inside.

He steps back then looks at you, trying hard to control his laughter.

“Are you laughing at me, sir?” You pout.

“No. I don’t make fun of people,” he says, turning serious now, but you don’t miss the grin on his face.

It’s unfair that he looks good even with a hard hat on.

One of the project managers calls him and he goes around, with you staying close by. This performance hall is bigger and boasts of a more traditional design, which would hold the cultural performances that the Culture Minister is very excited about. You watch Jungkook inspect the space with thoroughness, checking each wall panel and each seat.

It’s amazing to you just how involved he is with this project even with the project managers handling things relatively well. He wants to be on top of everything, he’s said; it matters too much for him to not know what’s going on.

You see Yoongi enter the room and approach him. Once he sees you, he laughs as well.

“Do I look that bad?” You groan. “Mr. Jeon was laughing at me, too.”

“It’s a little big, and I guess I’m just not used to seeing you in one,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Why don’t you have one?”

“I don’t need it. I’m here all the time and nothing happens.”

“Well, I’ve been here a few times and I almost fell earlier,” you say, recalling the almost-embarrassment.

“I know, I saw it,” he chuckles.

“You were there?!” You gasp.

“No, I was totally in the other room that’s why I witnessed you almost get hit by the marble then trip on yourself,” he deadpans.

“I didn’t see you, that’s all,” you shrug.

“I was by the doors. I checked these spaces yesterday and I just wanted to be around in case Jungkook had new instructions,” he explains. “But I gotta say, you guys were kinda cute earlier.”

“Almost falling on my ass isn’t cute, Min Yoongi,” you scowl. “I could’ve either ruined the marble slab or hurt my bum. Either way, it would’ve been embarrassing.”

“I didn’t mean just you. I meant you guys,” he gestures towards Jungkook. “He caught you, didn’t he?”

“Yes… That was embarrassing, too,” you frown. “What’s cute about that?”

“He looked worried. It’s just not something I’ve seen him be towards other people, that’s all.”

“It’s because an injured employee on site isn’t good, okay? Plus, if I’m incapable, then no one’s gonna be around to make his life easier,” you reason.

Yoongi stares at you for a while before shaking his head. “Wow, you really are dense.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you cross your arms in frustration.

“Forget about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, deciding not to push it.

He’ll tell you another time that he’s glad you’re becoming more of yourself again, that the light has somehow come back, that there’s now comfort you exude around the man you’d once despised. Yoongi feels assured now that there’s someone else who seems to be looking out for you, and that it’s something you don’t seem to mind at all.

“Yah! You’re being all mysterious again!” You pout, something he chuckles about.

“Me? Mysterious? Come on. I’ve always been an open book,” he teases.

You’re just about to nag him again when you hear Jungkook clear his throat, and you turn towards him and ask if he’s already done inspecting.

“There are still a few things I want to run by my design lead before leaving,” Jungkook says. “Please move my meeting to 3PM.”

“That’s noted, sir. I’ll give Mr. Hong’s assistant a call.”

You excuse yourself and step outside, leaving both men alone.

“Angering my assistant, are you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, the curious yet playful tone in his voice evident.

“Nah, just teasing. That a problem?” Yoongi answers back.

“No. It’s good she has someone she’s comfortable with at work.”

“Could be you, you know? That isn’t so bad,” Yoongi remarks, surprising him. “And it doesn’t cross whatever boundary you’re trying so hard to stay behind.”

“We’re not… on that level. I mean, I don’t know how to be someone other people are comfortable being around,” Jungkook admits.

“I don’t know about that. Seems like you’re already that for her,” Yoongi says. “I was just teasing her about how you guys looked cute earlier, when you broke her fall.”

“You were there?”

“Both of you really don’t notice other people when it’s just both of you, huh,” Yoongi laughs. “But yeah, I was. I saw her relief. And I saw you worry.”

Jungkook merely shrugs, not wanting to confirm. Even if he denies it, Yoongi will still believe what he wants to believe. But the older man knows you well just as much as he knows him.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Yoongi responds to the silence. “And I mean not in a superficial way, or a good boss caring for his employee type of way. Like, you worry when she’s sick or overworking, when she’s hurt or in danger. You want her to always be safe, to get rest. You like having her near. You wanna know that she’s happy.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jungkook finally answers. “I can’t think of her that way.”

“I know. That’s why you were the way you were,” Yoongi says. “How else do you respond to things you can’t control than through anger and detachment? But just because you shouldn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you do.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong,” Jungkook counters.

“Well, irrationally calling her out and being angry were wrong, too, and you did those because you weren’t being honest with yourself,” Yoongi argues. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, the least you can do is be true to yourself about how you feel. Because the more you deny, then the more you resist, and when you do that, you end up hurting her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then just… accept things - what you feel, what you both are, what you can or can’t be.”

Jungkook looks at his friend as if some epiphany had just transpired. It’s been difficult for him to make sense of what he feels around you. There’s always that air of familiarity, but the warmth and comfort are new. There’s the reality that you come from different worlds, but that you both somehow feel and experience and maybe desire the same things. There’s that sense of fear over change and of what he can’t control, yet you somehow provide the calm and stability that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

It’s all these contradictions that have been messing with him, and Yoongi’s right - because of all the times that Jungkook had wanted to create that distance, all it did was hurt you. That’s the last thing he wants, he realizes now. He’s seen you struggle, and even if that’s just a fraction of what you normally go through, it’s enough to tell him that he doesn’t want you to experience that again, especially not because of him. It’s too early to say the extent of his care towards you, and it’s not something he’s willing or ready to explore right now. But just as Jungkook’s about to comfort himself that it’s fine, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it anyway so as not to further nurture it, Yoongi speaks again.

“Just… just a heads up, though,” he adds. “The care that I felt, that’s how it started for me.”

“What started?”

“Me, liking her.”

It’s at that moment when you come back from your call, and you inform Jungkook that the meeting’s been moved and that he has a scheduled one with some of the directors on Monday.

“Alright,” he says, directing you and Yoongi towards the souvenir shop, temporarily disregarding what he was warned about.

“You two looked so serious. Everything okay?” You whisper to your friend.

“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, giving you the most genuine smile he could give.

There’s that sparkle and softness in your eyes that had captured him all those years ago. They dimmed throughout the years and they’ve just been sporadic, illuminating only during specific moments. He’d seen them again a lot more regularly, and even today, as you looked around the halls and admired the designs of the space.

Yoongi doesn’t know if a certain person is the reason for that. He knows you enough that you wouldn’t even notice it, so you definitely wouldn’t know what caused the change. But as your friend, he hopes one day you will, so that if you’re brave enough, too, you’d try to make sure that the light stays.

The inspection ends and you get back to the office at 4. You return to piles of documents you have to sift through and encode, and your original plan of leaving on time changes.

Jungkook spends over an hour talking with Yoongi and the construction lead about the Arts Center, and once that’s over, you see just how exhausted he is. He’s massaging his temples and sighing deeply, and you know that whatever just transpired, he’s going to be thinking about it all throughout the weekend, which he doesn’t really have time for. The gala that one of the Board members throws annually is tomorrow night, an event you’ll be attending with him as well.

You enter his room to remind him about it and to give some forms for his signature. He signs them off, and when you say you’ve got a few more requests that you’ll leave on his desk for Monday, he tells you to just wait until then.

“Go home, Ms. Cho,” he says. “It’s been a long week. And it won’t end until after tomorrow night.”

“What about you, Mr. Jeon?”

“I’ve got some stuff to sort through after inspection. I’ll probably leave in an hour or so.”

You frown, a mannerism of yours that he’s gotten used to seeing. It’s mixed with a pout that often makes him internally laugh because it seems unlike you. It also always means there’s something you want to say that you’re holding back.

“Should I not?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Hmm. Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a rest tonight, too,” you advise. “The gala could be quite draining and it would be good to save your energy for that.”

“I’ll think about it,” he hums.

“Then I’ll think about going home, too,” you answer back.

Jungkook chuckles, knowing you’re always going to counter him in some way. And he’s glad that you do.

“You may go. And get a good rest, too.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, exiting the room to start packing your things. It’s five minutes later when the door opens and you see him with his bag, ready to head home as well.

You smile at his tender doe-eyes as he admits through them that you were right - he doesn’t have a reason to stay behind, so he’ll call it a night and get as much rest as he can.

He pauses by the entryway, and you pick up that he’s waiting for you, perhaps to make sure that you’re indeed going home. You quicken your pace and walk next to him, steps in pace as you both go to the elevator and down to the lobby.

“Mr. Ri can bring you home after me,” Jungkook says. “It’s late already.”

“Not late enough,” you reply. “I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. It’s not necessary.”

He concedes, and you wait for the car to arrive and say goodbye to him again.

There’s a softness on his face as he lingers before he enters. A small smile forms, and it’s what you see until you fall asleep that night. It’s the same one that’s oddly been giving you comfort lately - it’s a little restrained but somehow it still looks vulnerable. Perhaps it represents how Jungkook’s been to you - there are some contradictions, but beyond all that, there’s care.

Mr. Ri happily greets you as you enter the car that late Saturday afternoon to head to Jungkook’s penthouse. He compliments your dress, saying it’s nice to see you in something formal that fits your style - it’s simple yet elegant, and you tell him that your mother wouldn’t stop gushing over you through the screen, nagging you to send full-body photos so she could appreciate you more.

Jimin and Soomin surprised you in the morning to help you fix up, insisting that they wanted to make sure you spoiled yourself for the event. If you wouldn’t, they would, so they treated you to the hair salon and had your nails done. They’re the ones who took so many photos like some formal dance, and Jimin commented that the only downside was that they were sending you off to pick up Jungkook.

Defending your boss the way you did surprised you a little; it surprised them a lot more. You’d said that he bought you the dress, that he’s been nothing but kind, and that whatever negative feelings you had towards him are all in the past. Your friends understood, deciding not to ruin your night and then letting you go so they could eat out and meet you back at your apartment once you’re done.

You chat with Mr. Ri about how things have been at work, your friends, and your family. You also talk about the gala and how it feels a little nerve-racking attending this time, given your experience with Jungkook.

It’s a grand event that the company’s executives attend, and guests are asked to refrain from going solo. For such requests, it’s not unusual for them to bring their assistants. You’re expected to attend anyway, and assistants usually partner up with each other and it always worked. You went with Hoseok last year because A-yeong had a work event, and while you expected that Jungkook wouldn’t care for such request and maintain that he’d go by himself, you also didn’t think that CEO Jeon would insist that his son take you as his date so he wouldn’t be alone.

The elder Jeon had reasoned that business discussions usually take place during the gala, and it would be good for you to be around and be familiar with the new people on the scene. Hoseok had said that they’re expected to stay through the whole thing, and it’s much better for his cousin to have a companion so he could survive the night. That was months ago when things were still a little shaky for you both. You still remember Jungkook’s displeased look when it seemed like he had no choice in the matter, especially since he probably thought that his father just wanted to make sure he’d act accordingly. It feels like a lifetime ago, really, as you think about his soft smile from last night.

You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, why his gestures or mannerisms suddenly mean something to you, or why there’s excitement when you think about seeing him outside of work. You’re unsure why the curve of his lips when he grins or the deep huff that follows his laugh makes you a little giddy, or why his eyes lingering on you makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.

Just like right now, as they gaze at you while you seemingly do the same.

“You look, uh—” he starts, unable to find the accurate but appropriate term to describe how you look.

“Nice?” You finish, recalling the term he’d used when you tried this gown for the first time.

“Something like that,” he chuckles, earning him a giggle from you.

He playfully shakes his head, perhaps knowing that you’re used to him not making grand compliments or anything. But he does smile after, and there goes that blissful feeling again.

Maybe it’s because for the first time, you’re being appreciated. Maybe just like how it’s been recently, he likes being around you, prefers it, even. And given how you felt so unwanted during his first few weeks here, this is a blessing, as if in his appreciation of you, you’re liking yourself as well.

“Well, in my opinion, you look quite dashing, Mr. Jeon,” you say bravely. “Except your waistcoat seems to be uneven.”

“Exactly what I thought,” he sighs. “I can’t quite align it properly.”

And as you always do, you approach him, your hands immediately going towards his shoulders to flatten the vest, then his sides to pull it down. You adjust it a little bit more then fix his collar after, and suddenly this feels so natural - being close to him, taking in his scent, and smiling as he glances at you.

“Do you need help with your coat?” You ask once you finish.

He nods and you follow him to his walk-in closet where you take the last piece of clothing and assist him in wearing it. He adjusts the lapels while you assess if all wrinkles have been flattened. You watch him look at himself in the mirror and you can’t help but admire him as well. He exudes confidence, which you can say now is strikingly different from the Appointment Dinner where he still looked a bit unsure. But now, he commands respect. The deep black color of his striped three-piece ensemble with his slick hair parted in the middle makes him even more handsome, and you manage to hold in the gasp you were about to release as he faces you for a final look.

“All good?” He asks.

“All good,” you smile, turning around and walking back to the living room.

He follows, and he takes this time to bask in your beauty before he has to act like it doesn’t affect him again.

There’s a reason why he was rendered speechless the first time he saw you in this gown at the tailor shop, so much so that he had to step out to get some air. You look even more stunning now, with your classic but natural-looking makeup and your styled hair. You exude a certain kind of glow that sucks him in, that makes his heart race yet soothes him just the same.

It’s a little dangerous for him, given that he’ll be spending this entire evening with you as his date, looking the way you do while he has to act disinterested, as if his attraction isn’t slapping him in the face and his internal alarm bells aren’t ringing.

But he has to act professional. He has to stay behind the lines even if his mind is yelling all the words about your beauty that he has to ignore. So he gives himself this short moment where he gets to admire you, and when you make it to the elevator and become confined in a small space, he holds his breath as you smile at him shyly, hoping that he doesn’t give himself away.

He’ll get himself together, he orders to himself, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t scare you off.

You make it to the lobby and enter the car. The drive to the venue is quiet at the beginning. It’s technically not a work day so there’s no reason to discuss work. You and Jungkook may have started talking about non-work matters but it doesn’t mean you readily talk about actual personal things. They’re occasional, as it’s not something he seems to do much and you’re often guarded about yours. It took a while for you to open up to Yoongi and even then, there are many things he doesn’t know. You’re comfortable around him, there’s no denying that, but there are still parts of you that you don’t like to share with others, and you suppose that Jungkook is the same.

But still, you ask how his evening was and how his day went, expecting he’d give a basic answer.

“I just stayed home last night and watched soccer over drinks,” he says. “Then I did my workout and went for a swim this morning. I did a bit of work in the afternoon and then got ready.”

“Ah, no party last night and then recovering from it in the morning?” You tease, knowing that’s a usual occurrence for him. Lucas did mention about the Singapore trip and how he’d taken home a passed out Jungkook on the night of his birthday.

“Well, there was a party,” he responds. “There always is, but I passed up on it. I didn’t want to feel out of sorts tonight. There’ll be a lot of new faces and I don’t wanna mess up.”

“Oh, you won’t. You’ve been doing really well, Mr. Jeon. And that’s me being honest.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” He arches an eyebrow. “Would you tell me otherwise?”

“Well, the me of now, would. The me of a few months ago would want to but wouldn’t.”

Jungkook dwells on your answer. “Hmm. What changed, then?”

“I got used to you.”

He meets your gaze and somehow it feels too long. You don’t really know what prompted you to say it but you felt a little bold, a little too honest.

“In what sense?” he wonders, turning away now.

“I’d say I got used to the mood swings but then again, they haven’t been intense compared to those first few weeks,” you admit. “But surprisingly, it’s the calmness I’ve become accustomed to. And the seriousness and occasional zoning out, but also, the…”

Care, you want to say. Or the thoughtfulness.

“Consideration,” you say instead.

Jungkook’s throat dries up as he finds the words to say. He’s now afraid to look at you because he might give in and say something he’ll regret. He’s been praised before for his work and his designs, but he supposes that no one’s really complimented him for something he does for other people, specifically for you. Maybe that’s why he thinks he doesn’t deserve it; he’s unsure if he’s really considerate by nature or if he just is towards you. It’s why he brushes it off, insisting he just has his moments.

“But those moments could mean a lot to the one it’s shared with or directed to,” you counter. “Even if it was just once. Or even if it was so trivial that you probably forgot already. But the other person doesn’t. Or they would, but something about that moment stays.”

Jungkook thinks about the moments you’d shown him consideration. Or even care or thoughtfulness, but he wouldn’t word it that way to you. There are the big ones - when you showed your support of the Arts Center to his father, when you calmed him down during that first Board meeting, when you gave him the noodles when he was sick, when you stayed with him during his interview with the magazine publications.

When you stood up to him. When you didn’t quit after that first week.

There are also the small moments - the ginger and lemon tea on Monday mornings when he looks like he’d drank too much the night before, the biscuits you serve with his coffee, the affirming looks during team meetings, the comforting smiles from outside his office when he’s stressed.

There’s a lot of those you show him, and he realizes now that he remembers each one.

The silence returns soon after, as you both seem to prefer basking in the soft music that Mr. Ri plays.

It’s 15 minutes later when you arrive at the venue. You get out of the car and meet Jungkook by his door, surprised when he offers his arm that you take.

“This is how they do it, right?” He looks at you questioningly.

“Yes,” you chuckle. “It’s a little over-the-top but the hosts treat this like it’s some red carpet event and I just follow what the others do. Bitna says it’s the one time we could feel like proper ladies or something, whatever that means.”

“Hmm, makes sense. I guess I’ll be a proper gentleman, then. Whatever that means.”

You hold onto him lightly as you both make your way inside. You try to disregard the firmness of his arm and the way it feels under your touch, so you gently let go not long after and clutch onto your purse instead, not wanting to give off the idea that you’re anything more than each other’s dates. You greet the guests and establish your position to those who are unaware in an effort to show that this social event is a work function as well.

Jungkook talks about the Arts Center when he can, and you mentally take note of certain projects, sites, events, artists, and patrons that are mentioned, quickly typing them on your phone for future reference. He talks to you about them in between flutes of champagne and canapes that are some of the most delicious you’ve ever had.

Jungkook laughs as you down another brie and cranberry bruschetta.

“What? I like fancy food,” you pout.

“Yes, your normal people’s taste buds like fancy food,” he teases.

It’s a statement you make often and you smile that he now uses it against you.

Your moments of casual ignorance of what’s going on around you are ones you find yourself enjoying too much. You internally sigh every time a guest approaches him, and even more so when you find yourself with a few others and someone stands a little too close, or has his hand linger on your elbow, or whispers something in your ear as if you’re at a bar and the music is too loud, which it isn’t, so there’s really no reason for this son of some business tycoon to be asking you to head outside “to talk.”

“Don’t you have a date?” You ask after he insists.

“Yeah, some girl,” he shrugs. “She’s kinda boring. Lucky I found you.”

You awkwardly smile, knowing it’s not your place to reject him and make a scene. He looks to be the type who always gets his way and if he doesn’t this time, you’re afraid of how he might take it.

You don’t budge and call for another flute of champagne instead, finishing it in one gulp that has the man releasing a deep breath in front of you.

“So you’ve been working for the Jeon’s for 8 years, you say?” He speaks again.

You nod, looking around to avoid his eyes.

“That’s quite a long time, yeah? I’m sure I can get you a spot at my company,” he brags. “I mean, we sell luxury cars. That’s way more interesting than buildings and shit.”

“I don’t drive,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I don’t know how to.”

“Perfect. I can teach you then,” he smirks.

It’s the look that heightens your level of discomfort, and just as you’re about to make some excuse and run away, Jungkook calls your name that has you immediately turning towards him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

He’s not too far away; he comes closer yet still maintains a bit of a distance.

“Hoseok’s asking for me but I want to speak to Mr. Saito before he leaves. Can you go to my cousin on my behalf?”

“Of course,” you say, excusing yourself and scurrying away from the scene, sighing in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of faces.

A-yeong gives you a hug and you return it, then you turn to Hoseok and ask what he needs Jungkook for.

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t call for him.”

“Oh, okay. Well, he said you did.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we got here,” Hoseok replies. “You know how this gala goes. So many people to meet. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… uh. Well, I just met Mr. Kwon’s son. And let’s just say, I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh, ___,” A-yeong sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. “Just stay with us. Or don’t leave Jungkook’s side.” Turning towards the man who’d just arrived, she adds, “stay close to her, okay?”

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes asking a question that you know the answer to but neither of you says anything.

“I will,” he nods.

Both of you stay where you are for a while before heading back to your seats for the sit-down dinner. You converse with those at your table, thankful that they’re all decent and entertaining. After that, Jungkook doesn’t leave your side. It almost seems like he’s your date rather than the other way around, but you appreciate his presence, especially when he calls your attention once you start looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I just… I just get a little uneasy when people I don’t know get too close.”

“I understand. I’m the same,” he says, prompting you to look at him. “But I just feel uncomfortable, not unsafe. There’s a difference. And it’s not okay if that’s how they make you feel.”

He knew without you saying the words. It takes you back to that night at the restaurant with Hajoon and how Jungkook had looked the most guilty he’d ever been when you said that his staring made you feel uncomfortable. You supposed then that it was mostly because he thought he was causing a rift between you and Hajoon but you realize now that it was more than that. For all that Jungkook is, you’ve come to see that there are things he can’t stand himself doing; deliberately making you feel unsafe is definitely one of them. Perhaps it’s why at this moment, you feel the exact opposite being around him.

And that’s how the rest of the night goes. He stays close but when he’s caught up in a conversation he can’t get out of, he gives you that look to remind you that it’s okay to step away, that you have the ability to remove yourself from a situation you don’t feel good being in. And you do, and the worry you used to have about being a mere assistant fades away. You never thought that one Jeon Jungkook would give you the permission to do that.

You’re seated on a chair some time later, the hours of walking in your high heels taking its toll on you. You wave to Hoseok and A-yeong, no longer having the energy to walk up to them for a proper goodbye. You sigh to yourself, feeling the tiredness slowly overtake you. It was still a good night, but it took a lot of energy from you, too.

“Hey,” you hear Jungkook call out.

You turn to him, still looking handsome as he stands nearby, his hands in his pockets as he mirrors your exhaustion.

“Ready to head home?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh.

You stand up, limping only a tiny bit, but you think Jungkook notices, as he offers his arm just like he did at the start of the night.

“This is what a proper gentleman does, right?” He asks.

“I suppose. Although I might say, Mr. Jeon, that’s what you were the entire time. So thank you.”

Jungkook nods in response, unsure how to receive your gratitude. He knows what you mean, as the first sign of your discomfort had him looking at you constantly. He was worried all night but he supposes there’s no reason to feel that way now, as your faint smile just signifies that you’re tired more than anything.

For the short moment it takes for you to walk closer to him, he basks in your beauty once more. The night will be over soon, and he’s glad he could give you some reprieve this time. He tries not to lose it when you tighten your grip on his arm for support though, but that’s something he can think about later on.

The walk to the car isn’t that long and you let go of him eventually. You head towards the other door then enter, the space in between reminding him of where you both belong - on either side of a line, one that he shouldn’t think of crossing.

You sink into your seat, fighting the urge to curl your body and take a nap, so you sit up straight and hold yourself together after once again feeling Jungkook’s arm under your touch. Most of the alcohol has left your system but perhaps not enough, as you boldly look at him and smile in appreciation. He returns it, perhaps knowing why you are.

You look out the window, appreciating Seoul’s night sky, until the vision starts getting unclear, as the rain falls steadily on the window. The tapping of the droplets on the glass is a sound you’ve come to appreciate, among other things that you used to be terrified of.

There’s just this calmness, as if the rain is greeting you, accompanying you in your thoughts. But the sound of the radio getting louder disrupts that a little bit, and in looking at Mr. Ri in question only to find him glancing at the rearview mirror to see the man next to you, do you realize why he’s doing so.

Jungkook’s demeanor has changed, a complete 180 to how he looked not long ago when he seemed satisfied, fulfilled, almost proud of himself for surviving the night. He’s now cross-legged and cross-armed, with his eyes closed and jaws clenched, as if he’s trying to hold himself together. Or trying his best to drown out the sound of the rain, the way Mr. Ri is trying to do for him.

Your face falls at the sight. You’ve seen Jungkook stressed and angry and disappointed; you’ve seen him anxious, too, but this is different. There’s a bit of fear in there, and with the way he flinches and how he’s clutching onto his arms, you know this comes from somewhere and this was caused by something. If it’s anything similar to what you know, then this was because of something painful.

You want to reach out to him but you know you shouldn’t. You helplessly look back on the road then glance at Jungkook every few seconds as the rain continues. It doesn’t seem like it will be a terrible downpour but it’s stronger than usual.

You try to remember instances in the past where he’d acted this way. A few come to mind, and you think now there’s a reason why he becomes uneasy when it starts to drizzle. That happened the other week while you were on a site visit with him for a small project, but you hadn’t thought much of it, given that he was on his fourth cup of coffee on the way there.

But right now, you wish there was something more you could do; anything is better than nothing. But you feel constrained - by the distance, by your position, by his boundaries that seem to always be there.

By some miracle, the rain weakens, and it’s stopped by the time you arrive at Jungkook’s apartment building. The car halts and with him still in the same position, you think he probably doesn’t realize he’s home.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say softly, gently tapping his arm to get his attention. “We’ve reached your place. And the rain has stopped. It’s… it’s okay to open your eyes now.”

It takes a few seconds but he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, then looks around. It’s just droplets frozen in time on his window and he sighs in relief. Somehow the assurance that he’s okay means something to you this time; you hate to think of what burden he carries that he hides away.

He opens the door, and there’s a bit of disappointment you feel when he closes it and leaves without a goodbye. You suppose he just wants to get to his place immediately and rush to safety. But you don’t want to intrude, not if distance is what he needs, so you settle with just watching him walk away.

But then he turns around, and with that bit of boldness left in your body, you open the window and give him another smile. You wish he feels the tenderness in it; you wish somehow it’s enough to let him know that you understand, and that he’s not alone.

“Good night,” you manage to say, and he hears it despite the distance.

“Good night, ___. And thank you.”

It’s the use of your name. It’s the softness of his smile and the words of gratitude. It’s the way he lingers as the car starts to drive away and you’re left watching him even from afar.

It lets you know that he knows. And it’s the reason why you sleep soundly that night and why for the first time since you’ve met him, you can’t wait to see him again.

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook series #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #boss jungkook

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russellsppttemplates · 5 months

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6V6n-No6Eu/?igsh=MXFydWFzODkyOWEyYg==

What about a blurb with P asking for the reader because she hasn't seen her in a while? And Lando tells her you're flying over and they arrange a playdate for you

Note: this is easily the cutest video I've ever seen of them 🥹

"Look! It's Lando! Can I go?", the British driver heard as he hung out outside of the hospitality, getting some fresh air before he had to go to the meeting room,

"P!", he cheered, finding the source of the voice, "you're here for the race this weekend?", he mused.

"Yes, me and mama came to watch Maxie race!", she said excitedly as she hugged Lando.

"That's a nice idea - are you enjoying it? I like your backpack", he smiled at the kanguru like backpack, giving Kelly a quick greeting before turning his attention back to the little girl.

"Is Y/N here with you?", Penelope asked, looking around for you.

"She's flying over today! She should be here in a couple of hours", Lando smiled as she nuzzled her head on his tummy, "do you miss her?".

"Yes, I do! I haven't seen her in so looong", P extended the word with a groan as Lando petted her head slightly, "do you think she'll want to come play with me? Me and Maxie found some swings yesterday", she smiled.

"I bet she will - I don't think she's coming to the paddock today, but tomorrow she will be here, and you can tell her all about those cartoons you showed me the other day too!", Lando suggested.

"Yes! Mama! Me and Y/N have a playdate tomorrow!", she yelled as Kelly approached them after she snapped a couple of pictures at the cute moment.

"Is that so, hm? Did she say yes to it or are you making everyone follow your lead? Her teacher says she's always bossing the other kids around", she mused.

"She's not here, but Lando says she's flying today and tomorrow we have a playdate - we have to bring my iPad so I can show her the new Bluey episode - do you know if she's seen if?", Penelope asked.

"I'm sure she hasn't", Lando assumed, "which means you'll get to show her for the first time, darling!", he smiled.

"Yes! Tomorrow, we'll come here to find Y/N - tell her that I like her a lot and that I can't wait, okay?", Penelope asked.

"I will - say hi to Max for me too?", he stretched his pinky finger to lace it in her much smaller one.

"That was cute actually", Zak said once they were back inside the hospitality.

"She loves Y/N, which also means I gave her a free pass to steal my girlfriend for the whole weekend", Lando mumbled, "might have not been the best decision considering I haven't seen her in two weeks and I would very much like to keep her all to myself".

"Should've thought about it first as I'm not sure you can compete with Bluey - that episode is very fluffy!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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mintmatcha · 20 days

Text

Inevitable Things : chapter nine

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. Mentions of drug use

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Toshinori sends you a text just as you’re walking back from your room.

-> Slways a sad friday without your reports. Hope things are good. THank you for keeping my company moving and for keeping the peace this weekend.

He ends the message with a little flexed bicep emoji-- his little sign for ‘keep fighting’.

A pang of something clangs around in your ribcage. You miss him too. Usually, it’d be strange to consider yourself close with a boss, but Toshinori is different; he’s kind, he’s earnest, he treats you well. His riches are used to improve the world, not line his own pocket-

There’s also a sour feeling that hits your gut. Your position on this trip is borrowed; Toshinori should be here, representing his company, just like he had every other year. You’re only here because he likes you- not because of merit or knowledge.

That only deepens your dread. No, you aren’t special or smart. You’re just a pity case, here because your boss is dying. And isn’t it selfish to pity yourself? Toshinori is the sick one.

By the time the elevator chimes open, you’re consumed by dread. You slide past the doors and next to the man in there, head tucked down to watch your shoes. They aren’t your silly red ones, but a brand new sensible black kitten heel-- a child’s choice in shoes.

“No hello?” The stranger says. “Thought we had a truce.”

You briefly look at the man, who’s turning your way, and then dip away, embarrassed; the man is cute, well put together, someone who you wouldn’t mind talking to-

-you realize he isn’t a stranger at all.

It’s a simple black suit, pressed a bit unevenly in the legs, but well fitted across his waist. Aizawa is wearing a dark emerald shirt with no tie, unbuttoned at the top. Even his hair is tidy and hydrated; it’s still wet from the shower, pulled into a tight low ponytail. For the first time maybe ever, he’s clean shaven as well, a little nick on his cheek from the kiss of razor, right under his silvered scar.

He looks good.

Like. Really good.

It’s a surprise and it also isn’t-- seems like you’re always lured in by a surprise Shouta sighting.

“I didn’t realize it was you in this… get up.” You shift your weight away from him. Does he even have cologne on? It’s not like you expected him to give a speech in his sweatshirt--- well, maybe you did. “I was-- I dunno. Thinking.”

He nods like he knows what that really means.

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not allowed to think?” you repeat. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

He shoots you a glare. “You didn’t even say hello to me-- that isn’t nice either. I figured our treaty was off.”

Ugh. He may have a point. Pretending is going to involve, well, actually pretending. You look him up and down, slapping on your fakest smile. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Aizawa grimaces as if you’ve slapped him, fingers pressed into his temple like you’ve caused the onset of a migraine. It takes him a moment to mumble out: “The feeling is mutual.”

“At least say it like you mean it,” you demand.

“The fact you are here is just the best.” he says, more enthusiastic than you’ve ever seen the man, but also clearly fake; his lips curls up to the left when he’s lying. He rubs little circles into his skin to help him through the pain of being a decent person. “I’m so grateful you get to watch me present and then report how I did back to my boss.”

Despite yourself, you smile, just a bit.

“That’ll do.”

“For you.” Aizawa repeats it. That's right: he's doing this for your comfort, not his own. That thought wriggles inside you and buries down like a worm.

“Do we need ground rules?” you ask. The elevator dings down, down, down-

“A weekend treaty was my idea, I don’t need stipulations,” Aizawa says, ruffling his hair. It smells like product, something expensive than Hizashi definitely forced upon him. “I can be civil without rules.”

“Then why are you never civil?” you shoot back, talking before you can think. The doors flick open and Aizawa walks out, giving you a bemused, yet annoying look.

“That’s a very pointed question,” he says over his shoulder. “You might be the one who needs ground rules.”

“Hey!”

Mic’s in the hall already when you two arrive. The place would be simply cavernous if it wasn’t filled to the gills with booths. The ceiling glimmers with chandeliers and the classic blue tiling, but the rest of the room is pretty standard-- almost underwhelming. The booth Hizashi’s set up is mild compared to the one’s surrounding it, which makes sense, you guess. It’s not like he could have wheeled a hospital bed into this hotel; just diagrams, brochures, and enough swag to lure even the least interested prospect into his arms. He’s unwrapping a lollipop when he notices you two approaching.

“Wow, wow-” He sizes you up with the candy. The bright red end shines in the light. Someone snags a piece of candy off of the table as they pass; despite the fact the hall isn’t officially open, there’s still a fair amount of people roaming. “Looking good, baby.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” It takes you a second to realize Aizawa’s kidding.

“You, obviously-” Hizashi says back to him. They both chuckle and it’s horrifying how they do it in the same way: low, rolling, completely un-serious. They really have known each other forever.

“Oh, before I forget-” The blonde spreads out a sticker and a proper name placard. “I grabbed name tags.”

Yours in handwritten in surprisingly nice writing, but Aizawa's is laminated and on a lanyard, his name and degree written in red bold lettering-

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you blurt out as he puts it on. Aizawa shifts his weight to his other leg uncomfortably. “Should I be calling you Dr. Aizawa?”

“No.” he dismisses. “It’s not medical-- It’s a PhD.”

“In Biomedical Engineering, so medical’s in the name, actually-”

Aizawa shoots Hizashi a glare. “You know what I mean. I’m not saving someone from a heart attack. All I do is sit on this damn computer and look at programs and numbers.” Aizawa takes a chair from the neighboring booth- a biotissue company- and drags it to behind the table before flopping down.

“You should look around, see what everyone's up to. If you just sit here with us you're just going to stress over your talk.” Hizashi waves him off. “Besides, me and babygirl have it handled.”

Aizawa hunches over in his seat as he drags out his laptop and a pen.

“I want to stress over my talk.” He taps the capped end of his pen against his teeth, the click audible over the din of the growing crowd. “I want to sit here and be miserable.”

Hizashi looks at you and waggles his finger beside his head in the ‘this guy’s crazy’ way. Yeah- obviously. You have to hide your giggle as someone walks up to your table and Hizashi launches into his spiel. It’s hard not to watch Aizawa out of the corner of your eye; he is, in fact, sitting down and stressing out. The man has pulled out a tiny laptop and balanced it on his lap, alternating between furiously typing and mashing the back button.

“You okay if he’s here?” Hizashi whispers. Honestly, you’re not thrilled; you had been hoping for a lighthearted day alone with your buddy--

But maybe it can still be a little fun.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say too loudly. “Aizawa and I are buddies.”

You're abusing his kindness for you by pushing him, you know that, but doesn't he deserve it? Just a bit? Aizawa sneers a smile from behind his screen, clearing unamused.

“Best ‘buddies,’” he says, flat enough you could drive across it.

Hizashi looks between you. Then, he does it again.

“Since when?”

----

The rest of the afternoon continues the same way. Swathes of doctors and investors visit you, half of which ask about Yagi. You tell them all that he’s a fighter. Most understand this means he’s doing poorly. Luckily, Hizashi handles most of the harder questions; it’s amazing to see him in his zone, smooth talking and pitching and just talking so quickly and professionally that you’re almost ready to buy a Prome product yourself. No wonder people have tried to poach him from the company. The customers Prome already has sing his praises and tell you about all the wonderful extra steps he’s taken for them.

You aren’t sure you’re truly nice enough to be a sales rep too.

Aizawa only greets a few people, seemingly ones he knows well or that are well known enough to give his full attention. The worried look never leaves his face, except when you chirp little niceties at each other.

There’s comfort to it, you find. It’s better than the hot and cold thing you had going on. That bubbling, seasick anger inside of you can be funneled into thinly veiled sarcasm without consequence, with the added benefit of Aizawa seeming to enjoy it as well.

“Great shirt by the way,” a passerby says. Aizawa looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape enough for a fly to fly into.

“Were they talking to me?”

They actually were, but you can’t let him know that.

“Of course, buddy,” you coo. “It’s a great shirt- did you put this outfit together?”

He gives you a sideways glance as he continues typing away without seeing the keyboard. “I’m forty-- who do you think picks out my clothes? My mother?”

You think he’s actually joking in good faith this time.

“Sesame, maybe.”

He is being silly. He’s even smiling now, a weird thing with too much teeth. “Yes. You’re right. My cats picked out my suit. How silly of me to not credit her for her work.” His tone is horribly flat, but there’s still some charm to it; honestly, with the way he’s carrying on, you wouldn’t be surprised if he really did trust a cat with his clothing.

“Well, tell Sesame that I think you look great.”

“Thank you.” He adjusts his cuffs, running his fingers down the cotton edge of his shirt.

“You two are so weird today,” the blonde whines. “But you aren’t killing each other, so-”

Hizashi sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Keep this up and I’ll buy dinner and drinks tonight-- Fuck, keep this up and I’ll plan your fucking wed-”

“Long time no see, gentlemen.”

A man, probably not much older than you, comes up to the table. He's seated in a wheelchair, rocking the wheels slightly back and forth. The stranger is exceptionally handsome: all wide smiles and broad shoulders, his black hair perfectly quaffed back and parted. The downturn of his eyes is dark and pleasant, and it takes your breath away when you realize he's looking at you and only you.

“I don't think we've met before.” He shakes his head a little as he speaks, back and forth in this delighted disbelief, as if he can't understand why he has never seen you. “I'm Tensei Iida.”

The name rings a bell, but you can’t quite place it.

“He's one of the super sexy doctors I was telling you about.” Hizashi says as he nudges you with his hip. Tensei rolls his eyes in a way that tells you he's actually tickled pink. That’s it-- he’s Aizawa’s presentation partner.

“Oh, stop that,” he says. “Don't listen to Mic- I’m just a normal guy.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Iida.” You take his hand. His grip is firm and dry, and he parts from you with a squeeze. “You work in prosthetics, right?”

“I do.” He flicks his hair out of his eyes like a teenaged dreamboat. What is with this guy? Was he made in a lab to be perfect? “Shouta over there is one of my best patients.”

Aizawa huffs and slaps his computer closed. “I highly doubt that.”

Patient? “I thought you two worked together.”

Tensei rolls his head to the side as he sighs, continuing this fake bashfulness thing. Unfortunately, it’s working for you; he’s sweet and humble, not to mention cute-

“We do.” He speaks so well, you're hanging off every word- “We modeled his leg together.”

Your eyes snap to Aizawa instinctively. Leg?

“Leg?” you say out loud, stupidly.

Tensei’s air shifts. He turns to Aizawa, knot creased, lips delightfully downturned. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“It’s not.” Aizawa sighs, “I thought everyone knew.” He hems. He haws. Then, the man tugs his pant leg up with one hand and you see a sliver of gray metal at the ankle. Before you can really look at it, it’s gone, hidden once again. A prosthetic. It may not be a secret, but there’s definitely shame involved.

Everything snaps in place. The way he walks, the way he always shifts his weight-- you have a thousand questions, but none of them are appropriate.

“I didn’t realize,” you say, carefully. Aizawa is avoiding your eye very, very pointedly, but his beautiful friend is enthralled.

“Wait, really? That’s great to hear!” Tensei rolls forward a bit. “You didn’t notice anything at all? No difference in motion or-”

“He, uh, stomps, maybe.” You glance over. “Just a little.”

“I’ve always walked heavy-- The mobility is perfect, I told you.”

“Are stairs the only pain trigger?” Tensei asks.

“That isn’t the prosthetic’s fault, it’s my body’s. I’m always in pain.”

Oh. Oh. You think back to the stairs incident and the bed on the fifth floor. That’s why he called you cruel. Shit. Making him climb all those stairs…. you were being an asshole to a man with a disability and chronic pain.

God, no wonder he'd been so antagonistic-- he still started it, but maybe you went too far.

“You must love working with this old grump.” Tensei flashes a grin towards you, almost flirtatiously, and that pulls you out of your thought spiral.

“Well-” You have to swallow your worry. You force a smile and just say: “Shouta's always nice to me.”

All three men look at you in the same way.

“Really now?” Tensei says, and you’re almost annoyed by it. No, Aizawa isn’t nice, but… well, he’s your enemy, not Tensei’s. He should be nicer to his research partner.

“We're buddies.” Aizawa's dry sense of humor shines through. “Work… married, or whatever the term is.”

Hizashi barks out a laugh and throws his hair over his shoulder, eyes tight with healthy skepticism. “I thought I was your work husband!”

“I have two hands!”

Tensei never stops looking at you. You like how his fingers twitch when he says your name. “You’ve clearly got everyone wrapped around your finger.”

The way he talks. You think he might be wrapped there too.

“That’s just what she wants you to think.” Aizawa stands suddenly. “Tensei, I changed my mind. Let’s take a look at my leg.”

Another customer has started to look at the booth, so Hizashi is on again. Tensei’s attention seems to only be distracted by the mentions of work. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

Tensei starts to roll up his sleeves. “Alright, take the pants off and we’ll-”

“God, not here.”

Tensei just nods. “I was joking. I can go back to a room if you want.”

“I do.”

Just as suddenly as he appeared, Tensei leaves with Aizawa in tow. The older man turns and gives you the smallest, barely there nods as a goodbye before disappearing into the thickening crowd. Once Hizashi is free again a couple minutes later, you lean in and mumble.

“Are those secret lovers or something?”

It shocks a guffaw from Hizashi.

“Please, I wish Sho had a dirty little secret like that.” You hope he doesn’t see your eyes widen. “It would take a miracle for Shouta to have a little fuck buddy. He’s still not over-- well, his last thing.”

Last thing? He’s been single for the three years you’ve known him- what thing could he still be holding on to? You don’t have any room to judge -- you’ve been dating Touya since sixteen and can’t move on either.

“Why do you even care? Tensei caught your eye?”

You think about his pretty dark eyes and try to feel something. “Maybe.”

“Oooo-”

Your heels ache by the end of the day, so you slip your feet out of them from under the table. The restaurant is busy, both with people and decoration, and somehow even louder than the convention itself. The waitress has just left the second basket of chips - this one still hot from the fryer- because you and Hizashi have already demolished the first one. You should really get actual food to absorb the alcohol in your stomach, but Aizawa texted you to wait for him.

Texted. You.

It’s weird to see a new message under his name, an unread message you can peek at through your notifications. It feels illicit, raunchy, wrong--

Hizashi sucks at the end of his straw until it gurgles on ice. He’s smiley-er than usual-- and drunk as a skunk. Drinking on an empty stomach does that; you’re swaying already too and you're just two margaritas in. The man has his phone out, tinder open for you to swipe through. Men, women: everything wants a piece of Hizashi and you can’t blame them. His blonde hair is tousled ever so slightly, his glasses are halfway down his button nose-

How does Nemuri stop herself from getting jealous of the attention he gets and his looks?

“Isn’t being here fucking great?” He takes a mouthful of chips. “We talk all day and drink all night.”

He's trying to wave down your waiter.

“You gonna text Dr. Tensei?” He lingers on the word doctor, drawing it out with a warm affection.You snort into your own empty glass and lick the salt from the rim. It’s smoked, a little spicy too. You try to blame the burn in your stomach on that, instead of thirty.

“I don’t even have his number!” you try.

Tensei is… well, almost perfect, but… you aren't sure. It's not that you don't want him, but…

Maybe you're just gunshy. Touya has you scared to let go, move on. You try and think of Tensei and his sweet smile, his stubbled jawline, his downturned eyes and scarred cheek-

No, that's Aizawa you're thinking of. You physically shake the thought away. The last time you drank was when you saw his…

“But, I have his number!”Hizashi sings as he tries to fish an ice cube out with his drink. “I saw that look on your face; I know you’d love to sit on his face-”

“Shh!” You physically try to lower his volume by waving your hands in the air. A waitress passes, giving you both a strange look, but Hizashi just crunches his ice away happily. “I didn’t say that! He’s just--”

Sex isn't a priority for you. It’s not that you don’t like it, but it’s never as life changing and groundbreaking as you want it to be. By the time it started to feel good, Touya’s would be done and half asleep. (Not that you and Touya even had sex that often. The drug use and cheating scared you; he insisted he was safe, but. Well. He promised a lot of things. When you did have sex, it was with a condom and followed by four weeks of panic testing and STI googling.)

Sex just never seemed worth the stress, you guess. Maybe it’d be different with someone else. Nemuri clearly likes having sex, so do the girls you see on twitter. Maybe you’re broken or something.

“He’s kinda sexy.” You try to hold on to optimism.

“He’s awful sexy!” Hizashi agrees. “I’ll slip you his number later-”

“Why not now?” you say.

“What’s now?”

From behind you, Aizawa strolls in, now devoid of his lovely outfit and stripped down to dress pants and a white undershirt. His hair is back into it’s little knotted bun, curls squashed into submission. When he reaches over the table, you can’t stop your drunken self from watching how his bicep flexes, muscle under thick skin. God, maybe you do need Tensei’s number and a good fuck-- you’re acting like a dog in heat over exposed arms.

Thick arms, with the rounded hint of muscularity, but still. Just arms.

Aizawa tips the basket over and salt scatters across the table. “You guys didn’t save me a single chip.”

When did you guys finish the second one? The man sits next to you, thighs spread just enough to touch you for a moment. Your back straightens at the contact and, after a blink, you move away to give him more space. He smells like tobacco flower and musk, a surprisingly gentle cologne for a brash man.

“That's what you get for being late! There's shots coming-- how's that sound?” Hizashi says, much too loud.

A groan escapes you. Uh oh, you forgot about that: it’s time for you to slow down and eat something that isn't fried. Luckily, Aizawa is here now and the waiter is coming. She passes out the shots of tequila, then she’s gone again, giving Aizawa time to look at the menu she's handed him.

“Tapping out this early?” Aizawa asks. His elbow accidentally touches you as he scooches closer. “I’ll have yours if you don't want it.”

“Please do.” You push yours in front of him and Hizashi does the same.

“Miss girl and I have been having fun without you! Catch up, catch up!” he urges.

“I can tell. You’ve over-served her.”

You resent that, especially since it’s Aizawa’s fault, but you can’t help but laugh. It gurgles out of you, a bit too drunkenly. “I just need to eat.”

“The chips weren’t enough?”

“No!” Your mouth is running without your brain. “Ugh, I hate being drunk, I always text people that I shouldn’t.”

Hizashi and Aizawa both look at you, both thinking of very different things. Heat pools in your cheeks-- and a bit in your core, at Aizawa’s lidded gaze.

“Hey, uh--” Hizashi scooches out from the booth seat and stands, brushing the salt off of his shirt. “Don't be mad, but I’m gonna go.”

Aizawa sneers and you do the same. After all this time, he couldn’t wait a bit longer? Does he really think it’s a good idea to leave the two of you alone? Sure, you were jokingly nice today, but that can’t keep going-

“What? I just got here.” Aizawa seems to agree with you.

He waggles his phone in the air, text messages abundant. “Duty calls.”

At least someone’s getting laid tonight. Aizawa slides away from you and into the spot Hizashi just left, this pissed off look smeared across his face.

“It’s still on me, don’t worry. Here’s my card- go nuts, kiddos.” Hizashi slaps his card on the table and turns on a dime, humming a jaunty little tune to himself. “Don’t be jealous!”

“I’m older than you.”

“I’m thirty.”

The two of you are left in Hizashi’s wake, sitting awkwardly apart from each other.

“So,” you try. “How was your-?”

“We don’t have to do this.” Aizawa slides Hizashi’s card towards you. “You can leave too, if you don’t want to deal with me.”

Usually, you stay quiet, but your drunk brain is taking over. You lean back in the booth and cross your arms, trying to be assertive. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what? Set you free?”

“Assume what I want,” you say. “I’m not allergic to having dinner with you. We can like, just talk and be normal. We did it all day.”

Aizawa’s face scrunches up in disapproval, but he doesn’t object. He sits in constipated misery for a long moment before sighing and unbunching his body. He mirrors your body language, crossing his arms and leaning back just enough that he isn’t hunched over himself.

“My day was… fine.” he tries in earnest. “Good, even. Took a nap. Finished my presentations.”

“When are you presenting?”

He flips the menu over, then over again, unsettled. His foot is tapping under the table, bouncing the table a bit. “Tomorrow at eleven and Sunday at three.”

“I want to watch the one with Tensei, is that okay?”

His brow crinkles at the mention of Tensei.

“I can’t stop you, but it’ll be pretty boring.” he shrugs. “Just polymer talk. Hanging with Hizashi will be more fun.”

“Well… I dunno, I love him,” You tread carefully. “But he’s such a horndog sometimes.”

Aizawa snorts and rolls his eyes. There’s the whisper of a grin trapped in his gaze, you think.

“It’s true! He abandoned us tonight!”

“You should have seen him when he first met Nemuri-- it was much worse. He would run off to her at the drop of a hat,” he says. “She would call and he’d get this dopey look on his face-”

“That’s cute though.” You are picking at the salt on the table, dreaming of days when Touya gave you that unmistakable, gooey expression. “Every woman wants to be loved like that.”

When you glance up, Aizawa is watching you, expression relaxed. He takes a delicate pause, watching you from across the booth as if you’re a million miles away, a look that only locks in when you meet it. It’s almost somber, the way you both watch each other in reverent silence, the din of the restaurant around you growing.

“He left me alone at a frat house once.” Aizawa interrupts your thoughts. You blanch, then laugh, hand over heart at the thought. “Ran away to get some guy across campus.”

“Wait-- you were in a frat house?” you wheeze. You try to imagine him, yellow sweatshirt in the middle of a sticky floored basement, crowded so close he’s forced to dance along.

“Against my will.”

Aizawa takes a shot glass and tips it back, swallowing it all in one measured gulp. He shivers at the taste, tongue stuck between his teeth in disgust. It’s cute. It’s sweet. You can see the silhouette of the college boy he used to be. When he swallows the second shot, he makes the same face, wrinkles deeper this time.

“Slow down-” you say. “You shouldn't really drink all three!”

“Well, you’re clearly too drunk for another.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Of course you are-” he says. “It's why you're being so nice and chatty.”

You gasp and throw a hand to your forehead in fake shock. “I'm always nice!”

Aizawa leans all the way back in the booth, eyebrow cocked skeptically. He sighs before he speaks. “If I remember correctly, you told me to go fuck myself.”

“No, you said that to me.” You close the gap between you by leaning forward into your elbows. “I said that you wished you could.”

It doesn’t feel scandalous to say until his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. It’s only a second, a glimmer-- but it’s there, it’s real, it’s temptation. You’re not stupid; you’ve come to terms with the fact that you find Aizawa Shouta attractive, but the sudden attention makes your mouth salivate ever so slightly.

“I don’t feel like that anymore, I think.” you manage. “At least I don’t hate you anymore.”

“I never hated you.” He leans forward too, head tilted, expression open. “I just wanted an apology.”

The moment grinds to a halt.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You want to scream. Words bubble in your chest, hot and dumb. “I’m not apologizing.”

You jam your feet into your shoes and start fumbling with your purse. Anger makes you clumsy, makes your eyes burn with tears. “Well, okay, I’ll apologize for the stairs, but nothing else. You were so mean to me, on my birthday-”

“And then you immediately sexted me.” Oh, how his calm demeanor gets you even hotter; you want him to scream back, to act pissed-- “How was I supposed to take that?”

“Happily!” You gesture to yourself. “I have great tits!”

“You do.”

“Urgh! Don’t say that!” You slide out of the booth.

“I thought I was being nice.”

“You’re disgusting-”

“- I don’t know what you want from me. You’re so hot and cold-” Aizawa says, that look on his face.

“You are the one who told me to forget about the stupid texts!” you say. “New flash-- I texted you by accident and yet, I thought ‘maybe I’ll give him a chance’-”

You sniffle, those angry tears ruining your ire once again. Horror flashes across Aizawa’s face as he looks around, gauging the reaction of everyone around him.

“Then you turned me down!”

“I had a chance.” He whispers, carefully, shock enveloping his usually stoic face. You almost think he cares, that he regrets, with that almost childlike sadness smeared across his features. In fact, he almost reaches for you before you pull farther away. “I thought--”

“You fucking did.” You wipe your tears with your sleeve and try to channel Bakugo’s advice. “But not now! Treaty is done! Burned to the ground! I’m back to being a cunt!”

You say cunt a bit too loud. For what feels like the millionth time, you storm away, past the onlookers, away from the man of your -- well, certainly not of your affection.

“Wait.” He calls after you. “Hold on, wait-- we haven’t paid--”

You march out into the street. The alcohol is hitting you; the stars in the sky streak together with the light pollution, the muffled noise of the restaurant eaten by the growl of the city. You turn left and march down the street, as fast as you can without running, wide, wide strides to distance yourself from the asshole behind you as quickly as possible. You run the first corner you can, then another, then-- wait,

You were supposed to go left, maybe.

Taking the next street should turn you right around, but… the lane curves and curves and --

You turn around.

Huh. This next street feels even more wrong. The cement has turned to cobblestone, the traffic has died down to something more residential. You pull your phone from your pocket, just to find it dead. The screen won’t even light up. Dammit. Damn. It.

The tears in your eyes wobble from anger to fear.

You’re lost.

The hotel can’t be that far; it’s not like you’ve been walking for miles. The rubbed raw spots on your feet are already broken open again, each step blossoming with fresh, hot pain, but you keep pushing. Touya always told you that you were hopelessly directionless, but you didn’t think he meant it literally.

Maybe you are, without him.

That’s how this mess started, really. Touya left you directionless, adrift in the world. He always pulled you down, but at least down is a direction and a destination.

Where do you want to go? Not just now, but in life? Do you want Touya to return and give you that pull, like a stone in black waters?

No. You don’t. The love is still there, but the self harm, the horrors… you can’t keep losing your life in his aftershocks, can’t keep being pulled by his riptide.

You want stability, a home. Someone who worries about you the way you worry about them. You want to stop crying and start being who you used to be.

Could Shouta be that person? You don’t think so, but you know Touya isn’t that person either. You don’t deserve much in this world, but you at least deserve to give yourself a chance.

There’s a twenty four hour bodega, neon light dimmed to near extinguished. The owner sleepily tells you where to go and you thank him warmly before trudging back down the streets, It only takes fifteen minutes until you see the familiar glimmer of blue tile. The front dress asks if you are okay when you limp by, cut up feet on the brink of giving up themselves. The elevator is only filled with strangers, giggling and whispering to themselves.

Your floor is the home stretch. You peel off your heels; the front and backs of your feet are covered in broken skin, blood tinging the suede of your shoes. Bed is calling your name, along with another big, long, upheaving cry. The past month has left you brittle, weak-

“Hey. Hey!”

There’s a man in the hallway. Your man.

“Shouta?” Your voice is wrecked. Down by your room is the familiar face of your enemy, pacing the hall. A couple of wide steps and he’s there on you, hands finding your waist,dragging you in so close that his forehead bonks against yours. Tendrils of curls tickle your cheeks as he huffs in relief, warm breath hot against your nose and cheeks. Surprise leaves you speechless, but he finds words.

“Where were you?” His voice bites out, harsh and rude. “You weren’t answering your phone or the door, I thought-- You’re bleeding.”

If he wasn’t so close, you’d wipe your nose and tears away, but he has you locked in those broad hands. They rub up and down your waist, worrying away at you with an almost anxious annoyance.

“I’m an adult,” you sniffle despite your annoyance. “You don’t get to be mad at me for staying out late--”

“I’m not mad, I’m terrified.” You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. The lacquer of seriousness is gone, replaced by something strangely human, wildly unique from the person you once knew. For the second time tonight, you think you see who he used to be, the silhouette of a twenty year old you’ll never know. “You can’t disappear into the city without contact-- you scared me.”

You know that fear. You’ve lived it. The way Touya comes and goes, the way he frays the fabric of your worries simply for his own wills and wants-

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m sorry.” He’s pulling you closer. “I’m so sorry.”

When his lips touch yours, it feels like home. It’s impossibly soft and warm, with the glide of chapstick, but what you focus on is how you are held. He cradles you, with trembling, needy, questioning hands, firm with want, questioning if you want this too. You don’t know if you do until your arms loop around his shoulders and tug him in deeper, harder-

When he pulls away, you don’t know if this was the right thing, but it feels right, deep, deep, deep in your heart and even deeper in your core.

“I’m sorry,” he says again before pressing into you once more, this time with his whole body, walking you backwards into the door of your room, The pressure of him holds you in place.

“I’m so sorry.” Aizawa speaks it into your lips. You’re fumbling backwards, feeling in your pocket for your swipe card as his tongue dips into your mouth. He groans into the contact, low and animalistic, hungry and reverent. Every emotional nerve in you is fried and your brain is refusing to think, but something inside you is pink, blossoming with want. It’s the first time in maybe years you’ve felt this unbelievably, unquestionably good.

Aizawa’s teeth close around the plush of your lip and you gasp at the want it makes you feel alive. To be so aggressively wanted-

Your keycard finds the slot on the door and the lock beeps open. You manage to break away enough to fumble to knob open--

And you two slide inside.

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 20 days

Text

Family, F1, and everything in-between

Social Media AU

pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader

summary: Follow the glamorous yet grounded life of Y/n Wolff, the supportive and stylish wife of F1's Toto Wolff, as she navigates the fast-paced world of Formula 1 alongside her husband, sharing moments of love, family, and behind-the-scenes paddock life ______________________________________________________________

Weekend getaway to the Austrian Alps with my favorite person ❤️ #QualityTime #NatureLover

LewisHamilton: Looks peaceful! Hope Toto unplugged from work for at least a minute 😂 → MercedesAMGF1: Of course I’m relaxing, @ LewisHamilton. Don’t worry, the team’s in good hands 😉 #WorkHardPlayHard

Charles_Leclerc: A much-needed break for the boss! Enjoy your time away 🌲 GeorgeRussell63: So this is what Toto looks like when he’s relaxed. Never seen it before! 😄 ValtteriBottas: Beautiful scenery! Make sure Toto doesn’t try to race down those mountains 😂 AngelaCullen: What a perfect place for some fresh air and reflection! Enjoy every moment ❤️ DanielRicciardo: Careful, Toto might start plotting his next strategy on those hikes! 😆 FanGirlSara: So adorable! You two are the ultimate power couple! ❤️ #Goals RacingHeart88: This is the break Toto deserves! You guys inspire us to balance work and life 👏

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A rare sight: Toto taking a break from his phone to actually enjoy dinner 😋 #DateNight #FineDining

PierreGasly: Impressive! How did you manage to get him to put the phone down? Teach us your ways, Y/n! 😂 EstebanOcon: A true miracle! Can we expect a happier Toto in the paddock now? 👀 LandoNorris: Bet he's still thinking about the next race strategy, though 😆 → MercedesAMGF1: I’m capable of multitasking, @ LandoNorris 😜 But yes, it’s nice to just enjoy the moment with my beautiful wife -Toto

CarmenMundt: You two are such a stylish couple! That dinner looks amazing too ✨ JessicaButton: Love seeing you both taking time for yourselves! Well-deserved break 🥂 FanPage_Y/n: This is such a wholesome post! Y/n, you’re a magician if you got Toto to put his phone away 😂 F1Life74: I aspire to have this level of work-life balance one day! Enjoy your evening 🌙

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Early morning runs are better with a partner 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♂️ #FitnessGoals #CoupleWorkouts

CarlosSainz55: who’s setting the lap times? 😉 MaxVerstappen1: Morning runs? Toto really is dedicated. Next time, invite the rest of us! DanielRicciardo: Must be tough keeping up with him, Y/n! I’ve seen that man in the gym 💪 → MercedesAMGF1: She’s faster than you think, @ DanielRicciardo. Might have to consider her for the next driver lineup! 😂 -Toto

RosannaTennant: Couple goals! I’m inspired to get up early tomorrow… or maybe just sleep in and watch from here 😂 MarkWebber: Toto’s secret to success—early starts! You two look great! FitnessF1Fan: Y/n, what’s your running playlist? Need some motivation! 🎧 SpeedQueen99: You both look so fit! How do you balance everything so well?

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My favorite place to unwind: our garden at sunset 🌅 #HomeSweetHome

SebastianVettel: A perfect place to recharge. I’ll trade you some honey for a spot in that garden 😉 FernandoAlonso: You have to take good care of that garden, Y/n. It’s where Toto recharges his winning energy! GeorgeRussell63: That’s where all the secret Mercedes strategies are born, right? 😂 → MercedesAMGF1: It’s where I find peace, @ GeorgeRussell63. And maybe, just maybe, where I come up with a few ideas😉 -Toto

RomainGrosjean: Beautiful garden! Can’t wait to see it in person sometime soon 🌸 ReneeWolff: That garden is pure magic! Love seeing Toto relax there 🌼 LoversOfF1: Toto smiling and flowers blooming—this is the content we’re here for! 😍 EcoRacer17: Your garden is a dream, Y/n! And having Toto in the background is a bonus 😊

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Just another day at the track supporting @ MercedesAMGF1 🏁 Always proud of my boys! #F1Family

MickSchumacher: The ultimate team supporter! We’re lucky to have you around, Y/n 😊 LewisHamilton: You’re the glue that holds this family together! Appreciate you always ❤️ NicoRosberg: Always nice to see you at the track! Brings back memories 😄 NataliePinkham: Y/n, you’re such a star! The energy you bring is unmatched ✨ Y/nWFans: Love seeing you at the track, Y/n! You bring such positive vibes to the team 💙 Formula1Fanatic: You’re the real MVP of Mercedes, Sophia! Keep doing what you do! 🏆 F1_GossipCorner: Y/n Wolff is truly the queen of the paddock! So much respect for her 👑 MercedesAMGF1: Couldn’t do it without you by my side, @ Y/nWolff. Team Mercedes is a family, and you’re at the heart of it 💙 -Toto

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A little family time before the next race 🐾 #FamilyFirst #DogLovers

ValtteriBottas: That dog is living the dream! 🐕 You guys look so happy! → MercedesAMGF1: Our dog has the best life, @ ValtteriBottas. He might even join me in the paddock one day! 🐕 -Toto

LewisHamilton: Love seeing you all together! Give the pup some extra pats from me 🐾 PierreGasly: Y/n, you might have the cutest dog in the paddock! 😍 AngelaCullen: Dogs are the best stress relievers! Enjoy your time together 🐶 RomainGrosjean: Family time is the best time. I see Toto is more relaxed when he’s around the dog 😊 DogLoversUnite: That’s the cutest family photo! Your dog is so adorable! 🐾❤️ PaddockPets: Can we get more of Toto and the dog? This is the content we need! 🐶

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Behind the scenes of an F1 weekend 🏁 #TeamSupport #PaddockLife

LewisHamilton: Y/n keeping the team spirit high as always! 🙌 Charles_Leclerc: t’s always great having you in the garage, Y/n. You bring such good energy! ⚡️ GeorgeRussell63: Look at Toto, all business as usual 😂 → MercedesAMGF1: Focused as always, @ GeorgeRussell63. Y/n is the secret to our success in the garage 😉 -Toto

LandoNorris: Y/n in the garage = good vibes only! 🎉 TechFanF1: Seeing the behind-the-scenes action is awesome! Thanks for sharing, Y/n! RacingWivesClub: Y/n, you’re the real MVP behind Toto’s success! 💪

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Pre-race rituals with the one and only 🏁✨ #RaceDayReady #F1Life

LewisHamilton: That’s the pre-race boost we all need! Sending good vibes to you both! ❤️ MickSchumacher: Now I see where Toto gets his race-day focus from! 🏎️ NicoRosberg: Aww, bringing back memories! You guys are the best 💫 JessicaButton: Love seeing the love and support between you two! Power couple vibes all the way 🌟 TheWolffsfan: That’s such a sweet moment! Toto’s good luck charm ❤️ SpeedyF1Fan: This is too cute! No wonder Toto’s always so calm before a race. RacingLife_92: Y/n, you’re definitely the best part of the pre-race routine! 😍 MercedesAMGF1: Every race is better with you by my side, @ Y/nWolff. You’re my good luck charm 💖 -Toto

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When in Monaco… 🇲🇨 #MonacoGP #LivingTheDream

Charles_Leclerc: Looking stunning! Hope you’re enjoying my home race 🏎️🇲🇨 DanielRicciardo: Monaco magic! You two look like movie stars! 🎥 MaxVerstappen1: Y/n, you’re outshining the entire grid with that look! 😎 AngelaCullen: Wow, you both look amazing! Monaco has never looked better 😍 PierreGasly: Y/n, I think you just set a new standard for race day fashion 👏 FashionAndF1: This is what we call couple goals! Y/n, your dress is absolutely stunning! ✨ MonacoMagicFan: Toto and Y/n, the ultimate power couple at the ultimate race! 🔥 MercedesAMGF1: Monaco feels even more special when I’m with you, @ Y/nWolffYou make every event shine ✨-Toto

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Back to Brackley! Ready to get back to work with the team 🏠🏎️ #HomeBase #F1Family

LewisHamilton: Welcome back! Let’s get back to business 💪 GeorgeRussell63: The team's energy always picks up when you’re around, Y/n! Time to put in the work 💼 ValtteriBottas: There’s no place like home! Brackley is ready for the Wolff magic 🏁 AngelaCullen: Exciting times ahead! So glad to see you back with the team 😊 TiffanyCromwell: Y/n, you always bring such positive vibes! Can’t wait to see what’s next 💥 JamesAllison: We’ve missed you around HQ! Let’s gear up for an even stronger season 🔧 MercedesF1FanForever: It’s great to see you back at the heart of Mercedes, Y/n! Your presence is truly inspiring 💙 F1_Fanatic88: Y/n back in Brackley! Can’t wait to see what the team achieves next! #TeamMercedes MercedesAMGF1: Back to where the magic happens. Couldn’t do it without you by my side, @ Y/nWolff. Let’s make this season one to remember 🏆 -Toto F1FamilyMoments: Y/n support is what makes Mercedes more than just a team. It’s a family. Welcome home! 🏠💙

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #toto wolff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #toto wolff x reader #fluff #social media au #social media #formula 1 #formula one #formula racing #mercedes f1 #mercedes amg f1 #mercedes amg petronas

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fxrmuladaydreams · 8 months

Text

the boss’s daughter (gr63)

george russell x wolff!reader

summary: you become attached to a certain british driver, but he panics when he thinks about the repercussions of your relationship

notes: i’ve only ever written george one other time and it didn’t get all that much love, but that could’ve been bc the tags weren’t working so we’ll see how this goes. i hate having to do math with ages when it comes to fics so we’re all going to pretend that toto and susie are older than they are so they can have a daughter who is age appropriate for george 👍

Your father had tried his hardest, for years, to get you interested in racing. Your parents were Susie and Toto Wolff for god’s sake, it didn’t make any sense to him why you were so disinterested in cars.

Susie tried to convince him it was okay. “So she’s not going to be a Formula One driver, she’ll find something else. Something she enjoys.”

Little did they know that something was going to end up a someone.

Some might’ve called it lazy, your gift to your father on father’s day being the promise you’d attend a race weekend with him. But you would call it financially responsible.

You mother made you keep your promise, even after gifting him something he’d actually use.

“It’ll make him so happy.” She cooed at you.

And happy he was, taking you around the paddock from garage to garage, introducing you to the other team principals, even a few of the drivers. You ended your tour back at the Mercedes building, you father’s arm over your shoulder as he guided you through the crowds.

He tugs you along with him as he talks to the engineers. You’re sure it’s important, but to you it just sounds like nonsense droning on.

Your eyes wander around the garage, stopping on the two drivers standing in the corner.

You’d met Lewis before, you father adored the man. He was invited to various family gatherings and parties. He was sweet, his dog Roscoe even sweeter.

You hadn’t met George yet though. Sure, you’d seen him on the team instagram, accidentally turning himself into a meme practically every weekend.

You watch as George talks animatedly with Lewis, his hair slightly falling into his face. Lewis eventually gives George a pat on his arm, then walks away, leaving the younger driver alone.

“You haven’t taken me to meet George yet.” You tell your father once he’s finished with the engineers, softly tugging at his arm.

He pulls you over to the young British driver, who seems to stand up straighter in the presence of your father.

“George, this is my daughter, Y/n.” He introduces you.

When George’s eyes meet yours, you can’t help but drown in them. The soft green practically glitters in the sun.

“Nice to meet you.” He says, holding his hand out to you.

You take his hand in yours and shake it. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Toto looks between the two of you and very quickly notices the glint in your eyes. He also notices the way George’s lips tilt upwards in a soft smile.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s leave George to get ready.” He says, attempting to pull you away from George.

“But I want to see the car.” You keep yourself planted in front of George.

“You can go see Lewis’ car. I’m sure George wants some time alone before the race.”

“I can show her. I’m not busy.” George says, shrinking slightly when Toto’s eyes meet his.

“Alright.” Toto says gruffly, making sure to follow right behind you as George leads you to his side of the garage.

George almost looks nervous as he shows you his car, pointing out different things, then showing you everything on the steering wheel. You step closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his as he points at the different buttons.

Toto lets out a breath when it’s time for George to actually get ready for the race and get in the car. He pulls you back over to where he sits with the engineers and sits you down next to him.

The race is long, but at least if you watch the screens you’ll actually be able to see the cars driving as opposed to their zooming by on the actual track.

George only makes it barely outside the podium, scoring P4 after the race. You watch as he pulls his helmet and balaclava off in frustration. His golden hair sticks out in every direction. A light sheen of sweat coats his face, and you can see the light pink imprints on his cheeks from the balaclava.

You’re able to escape your father for a moment after the race to find George talking to some of the Mercedes workers. He’s got his race suit tied around his waist and a water bottle in his hands.

“Hi George.” You say when there’s a break in their conversation.

“Hi Y/n.” He says, giving you a small smile. “I hope you enjoyed your first race.”

You shrug. “It was alright. I much preferred the company before and after the race.” You tell him, letting your hand trail up and down his bicep.

He flushes under your gaze, stuttering out a quick “thank you” before he’s pulled away.

He doesn’t see you again that day, hoping that you’ll decide to attend another race sometime in the future.

You do, hoping to see the British driver again, maybe this time without your father watching over you like a hawk.

You attempt to seem more casual in the garage this week, only letting your eyes wander occasionally in search of George. He’s not hard to find, his height making him easy to see.

You catch his eye as he gets ready for the race. He gives you a soft smile, to which you reciprocate and give him a wink. His face flushes as he quickly tugs the balaclava over his head.

He doesn’t get a podium, but stays pretty high in the points. He’s slick with sweat when he gets out of his car, his hair is flattened to his head, and sticks out when he runs his hands through it.

He lets out a breath when he gets back to his driver’s room, closing the door behind him, but feels it get caught in his throat again when he sees you on his couch.

“Hey George. Good race.” You tell him.

“Th-thank you.” He stutters out. “Who let you in here?” He doesn’t sound put off or offended in his question, he’s genuinely curious as to how you found your way to his room.

“My dad is the team principal. I have access to pretty much wherever I want.” You stand up and slowly walk over to him. “Look at your hair.” You say as you softly run your fingers through the golden strands, attempting to straighten them out.

George huffs out a small laugh, not sure what to do. You’re very close to him now, practically pressed up against him. He can see the sparkles in your eyes, and can smell your sweet shampoo.

You catch his eyes wandering around, seemingly looking anywhere but at you. You use your fingers yo tilt his chin down so that he has to look at you. You smirk up at him.

“Do I make you nervous George?” You ask softly.

His cheeks flush. “No, no, I’m fine.” He gives you an unconvincing smile.

“You are actually.” You tell him as you lean towards him. You give him plenty of time to back away before pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

The kiss is brief, teasing. George can’t quite process it’s happening before you pull away.

You give him a soft pat on his chest, the black fireproofs smooth under your hand. “See you later George.” You wink, then leave him in his driver’s room.

George can’t seem to look his boss in the eye after your encounter in his room, especially not when you seem to find him at every race, and pull him into secluded rooms or hallways with your lips attached to his.

He’s in dangerous territory, he knows that. But he can’t stop. Not when your tongue is practically down his throat, and not when he holds you in his arms in his hotel room at night. He’s grown attached to you, addicted one might even say.

He doesn’t know what this is, neither of you have put a label on it yet, but the time you’re spending together sure feels an awful lot like the time a couple would spend together.

He was equally relieved and terrified when you told him that you wanted to make your relationship public. It was in his hotel room, you were wrapped up in his arms and a blanket, playing with his hands when you told him. He was glad to hear that you were in fact dating, that his heart could stop clenching every time he was with you, wondering if it was going to be the last.

He however knew that he was not mentally or physically prepared to find out what was going to happen when Toto found out. Was he going to lose his job? His life? Both were reasonable expectations in his head.

You’d been around George long enough now to sense his unease. You sit up, slightly pulling yourself away from him. “Unless… you don’t want to…”

He can’t speak, he can’t find the right words to say, he’s seemingly paralyzed.

“Okay. I get it.” You say, getting up from his bed. “You can’t date the boss’s daughter. Obviously. It was stupid to think this could work.”

He scrambles up from the bed when he finally processes your words. His sweatpants get caught in the blanket, tugging them lower down his hips. “Y/n, wait-”

You grab your small bag you brought to his room and walk to the door. “It’s okay George. Really, I understand.” You sigh. “I had fun though.” You give him a small smile before leaving.

He gives you space for the rest of the night, hoping that he’ll be able to find you at the track the next day to talk things through. He’s surprised when he doesn’t see you anywhere. He attempts to casually ask Toto where you had gone.

Toto doesn’t think twice before answering. “She wasn’t feeling well. She took a plane back home this morning.”

He waits for you to appear again, race after race after race, hoping that you’ll come back and talk to him. He tries calling, texting, even messaging you via instagram, all of which go ignored.

He feels like he’s lost a part of himself. And he’s determined to get that back.

Toto is surprised to find George at the door to his home over the break. The poor British driver wrapped up in a coat, shivering, clutching an almost frozen looking bouquet in his hands.

“George? What are you doing?” He asks.

George takes a deep breath. “I’m here to see Y/n. We were together during the season, but I made a mistake, and now I’m here to apologize and ask her if she’ll have me. Again.”

Toto looks even more confused. “You were dating my daughter?”

George gulps. “Yes. I was. And it was amazing, and I really care about her. And I would like to keep… dating your daughter…” he trails off.

“Leave.” Toto attempts to shut the door.

“Dad?” George sees you appear behind your father. “George, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to apologize. I shouldn’t have let you leave, and I should’ve been able to make our relationship public. I’m here to ask you for another chance.”

You brush your father out of the way, and grab onto George’s free hand, pulling him inside and closing the door behind him. His hand is freezing, and you feel just how cold his cheeks are when you softly cup his face. You don’t know if the pink blush on his face is from you or the cold.

“No. This is not happening. Absolutely not.” Toto says.

“Dad, I’m dating George. Whether you like it or not.” You turn to face him. “George is a good guy. You know that, you see him practically every weekend. And I’m going to be very upset if you kill and/or fire my boyfriend.”

Toto looks back and forth between the two of you. George with his wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and you with a pout on your lips and your eyebrows raised, as if challenging him to do something.

“Fine. You can date my daughter. But no sneaking away at races.” Then he looks directly at you. “No going into his driver’s room.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I won’t go into George’s driver’s room anymore.”

“Anymore?!”

You giggle as George tries to hide himself behind you.

#george russell x reader #gr63 x reader #formula one x reader

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Hers*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Mine*

Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has made you a deal.

Two for the price of one. He'll share you with Asher. For one night. And one night only.

And all you have to do? Be good and take it.

Word Count: 9.6k (...don't ask)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Easy, mama. Breathe. That’s it, that’s my girl. Relax for me, okay? Relax.”

Forcing a shaky breath through quivering lips, you do your best to oblige Harry’s request, allowing your muscles to uncoil as you settle before him.

“Good,” he hums, large palm smoothing across your hip. “Don’t want it to hurt, my love. Need you nice and loose for me.”

“I know,” you say, lashes fluttering shut. “I know, m’sorry.”

“Don’t have to be sorry, honey,” he reminds you, although there’s a hint of reprimand. “Just have to be relaxed.”

You nod again and unclench your fists from around the blanket. He’s doing his best to help you along, making sure to keep his touch light and comforting. And it’s something you thoroughly appreciate as he gingerly circles the tip of the plug around your hole.

“Talk to me,” he suddenly demands as he pulls the item away. “Tell me what you’re looking forward to about this weekend.”

He’s trying to distract you, and you smile as you glance toward the pillows at the head of the bed. “I’m excited to be with you,” you tell him honestly. “Both of you, but…especially you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you share before.”

“And you won’t again,” he snorts under his breath before you feel his puckered lips meet your ass cheek. It’s a quick peck, meant to encourage you, and your grin grows. “Lucky I’m even considering it this time.”

You turn to sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Why are you?”

He doesn’t meet your eye, instead keeping his focus on the task at hand. “Because I can tell it’s something you want. And I want to give you everything you ever want. Everything you deserve.”

Your heart jumps. “You think I deserve Asher?”

You smirk to show you’re teasing, and he chuckles to himself as he gently guides your thighs further apart.

“I think you deserve the best,” Harry replies cooly. “Maybe that’s Asher, maybe it’s not. That’s why I want to be there. To find out.”

You run your tongue over your bottom lip. “Do you trust him?”

He looks up.

“I trust you,” he says softly. “I trust that if this is something you want…then you’ll enjoy it. And I trust that if at any point it’s not…you’ll tell me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “You know I will. But I don’t want you to do this just because of me. Not if it’s not something you actually want.”

“I want what you want,” he repeats, a bit firmer. “This time, that’s Asher. I’ve seen the way you are with him. And I’ve seen the way he is with you. The only thing I expect of him is that he takes care of you. Which he does. And as long as he continues to do so…I’ll continue to let him keep his heart inside of his body.”

You snort and glance back down at the mattress, readjusting your position. “I think you just like knowing how scared he is.”

You don’t have to see Harry to know he’s grinning. “It’s fun to watch him sweat.”

“You’re a horrible friend.”

“I’m not his friend. I’m his boss.”

“Well…you’re a horrible boss, then.”

“Considering all I’ve allowed him to see and do, I’d say I’m pretty generous.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to.”

“He did,” Harry says quickly. Confidently. “Believe me, honey. He wanted to. He told me.”

“He told you and you let him live? I’m shocked,” you tease, feigning a surprised gasp.

However, this earns you a gentle but loud smack to the ass as you chuckle.

“Watch it,” he warns. “Yes, I let him live. Because I knew he wasn’t a threat.”

“No?”

“No.” He squeezes your hip, calling your attention back as you look over your shoulder.

Your stomach flips when you see the somber expression on his face.

“You love me,” he says. Not a question. Not a theory. A statement. “He will never change that.”

“No,” you echo, and your answer overwhelms you. “No, never.”

He reaches around to take hold of your chin and give it a squeeze. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I want to do this with you—with him—because it’ll make you happy. Because you deserve to be taken care of. And I know he’ll do it right.”

With that, he drags the tip of the plug down to the arousal already collecting between your thighs, effortlessly lubricating the small object as the question is put to bed.

You reel, gasping through a slack jaw as you steady yourself on your hands and knees.

“Remember what I said,” he reminds you, patting your hip softly. “Gotta relax for me.”

You nod quickly, silently commanding your body to comply, to unwind, to loosen.

And then…he dips down.

Spit dribbles from his lips, landing between your cheeks as you mewl and wiggle closer to the strange sensation.

He makes a noise—either of approval or disappointment, you aren’t sure—before his finger is diving through the pool of saliva and slipping inside.

He’s already been stretching you for the past few minutes, attempting to make this experience a bit more pleasant.

And you’re more than thankful for that now, lost in the feeling of your muscles being coaxed into submission, the feeling of your walls being pushed apart, the feeling of him.

His digit alone is such a fantastically full feeling, you know a cock will send you on a one-way ride to heaven.

“There she is,” he hums, seemingly proud of the way you’ve begun to unwind. “Feels good, hm?”

“Yes,” you breathe, practically pushing back into him. “Fuck—”

“Been a while, I know,” he remarks before he retracts his hand and brings the plug back. “Proud of you, mama.”

Your cheeks warm from the praise before allowing your body to fall quiet. Limbs going utterly still as you await the feeling of the toy, eyes falling down to the dark duvet beneath you.

There’s not much resistance, and you can’t feel too surprised. In fact, it’s quite the subtle but enjoyable feeling. Made even more pleasurable by the way Harry speaks to you.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he whispers, making sure to keep a steady pace. “Oh, honey. Look so pretty right now. Wish you could see how well your sweet little hole stretches for me.”

You bite back a moan. Clenching certainly won’t help, and you almost wonder if he’s trying to be lewd on purpose, just to test you.

Once it’s seated snugly within your ass, Harry hums again and presses his lips to the base of your spine. “There you go. How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you whisper, allowing for a moment to indulge in the sensation. “Full.”

“Yeah? Good,” he repeats, taking a handful of hip in each hand before pulling you back just to watch your cheeks spread. “Fucking hell, mama. Don’t know if I can wait till this evening.”

You smirk as you settle onto your heels, lacing your fingers through his. “Then don’t. Call him over now.”

“Wish I could,” he sighs as he walks around the bed to face you. “But I need to swing by the warehouse, and I need you somewhere safe.”

“And why again am I not safe here?”

“Told you,” he says, caressing your cheek with his palm before running a thumb down your lip. “This location could be compromised if something goes wrong. S’better to have you in a safe house while we have the meeting. And once it’s all over, we can come home.”

Home. A singular word filled with a lifetime of memories. You love the way he says it. Love the tenacious way he speaks about the shared space you both belong in. The place you yearn to come back to.

You press your mouth against his finger, kissing him gently.

He smiles.

“Okay,” you agree. “As long as you’re not gone long.”

“Try not to be.”

“Promise?”

He frowns but there’s a hint of playful amusement within the firm expression. “You know how I feel about promises.”

“I know,” you reply, sneaking your hand around his wrist to keep him close. “But I need you to promise me anyway.”

He sighs. “Honey…”

“I need to hear you say it,” you insist softly. “I need to know you’ll come back to me.”

Now he understands, and his eyes fill with a desperate longing. “Always,” he nearly growls, using both palms to take hold of your face and bring you to him. “Fucking always, mama. Always come back to you.”

You smile as your nose brushes against his. “Promise?”

He exhales a deep breath, as if you’ve stolen the air right out of his lungs. “I promise.”

You kiss him. And you don’t let him go for quite some time, thankful to have him in this moment…and all the rest.

“But you have to promise me something, too,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Yeah?”

He nods before that devious grin finds its way back. “Promise me…you won’t tell Asher about this little surprise until tonight,” he says, reaching down to smack his hand against your ass. “Think he deserves a little treat.”

And you can’t help but laugh as you agree. “I promise,” you vow before the sound of the door opening echoes throughout the apartment.

Asher announces his arrival as Harry helps you to your feet, making sure to keep you steady as you adjust to the newly acquired object.

“Get dressed,” he instructs softly before releasing you to walk toward the door. “He’s gonna take you to the safe house, and then I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay,” you reply, equally as quiet. “Har?”

He stops just before he’s completely disappeared into the hallway. “Hm?”

“I love you.”

He smiles, and it makes your heart sing.

“I love you, honey,” he calls back. “Now be good for me.”

You grin. “Yes, daddy.”

And he laughs. In that beautiful, symphonic way. It almost makes your chest ache as you watch him slip into the living room to debrief his right-hand man while you’re left to put your shorts back on.

Once you’re ready, you join the boys by the door, catching the tail end of their hushed conversation.

“—until tomorrow,” Harry is murmuring. “Unless we draw him out.”

“We will,” Asher replies, nodding once. “Matthews is a fucking idiot. He thinks he’s got a shot at infiltrating our system, he’s not gonna pass that up.”

“No,” Harry agrees. “Especially not after Sean—"

The muted discussion comes to an abrupt end when Harry’s eye catches you sneaking through the living room.

“Hi, sugar,” he calls, a bit louder than necessary, almost as if alerting Asher of your presence, too.

Asher turns, and when he sees you…he smiles.

“Hi,” you say back, nodding at the second-in-command.

“You ready?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what to bring, but—”

“Asher’s got it,” Harry answers simply, shooting you a reassuring grin. “Don’t need to bring anything but that cute little ass.”

The teasing remark is a double-edged sword, and you and Harry exchange a smirk as your skin warms and Asher’s brow raises.

However, he doesn’t question it. “In that case…are you ready?”

You nod again. “I think. How far is it?”

“Couple hours,” Harry replies. “Just outside the city.”

“Is Paul coming?”

“No.”

Your brow raises. “Okay…why?”

There’s a beat as Harry reaches into his suit jacket pocket to retrieve a cigarette and a match. “We’re not compromising your location,” he says as he places the filter between his lips and strikes the light. “S’better if fewer people know.”

“So, just you and Asher?”

“Mhm.” He inhales deeply before plucking the object between two fingers and pulling it free. “You’ll be safer that way.”

And despite how methodical he makes the whole affair sound, you know this is something he’s actively fighting himself on.

He prioritizes you above all else, even when that means sending you two hours away so he can conduct a meeting with someone on the black market.

But he hates it. You know he hates it. He absolutely cannot stand being away from you, especially in moments like this.

And he doesn’t want you to know just how weak you make him.

Fighting a gentle smirk, you stride toward him and snatch the cigarette from his grasp.

He huffs as you smash the ashes against the wall, effectively putting out the light before tossing it into the trash can.

“What have I told you about this?” you remind him, tone playful with just a hint of admonishment.

He sighs, glancing down at the lost nicotine with a mournful frown. “Well, what else do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you…to kiss me,” you whisper as he drags his eyes back to you.

It doesn’t take much more for him to slip his fingers around the back of your neck and tug you to him, his mouth instantly colliding with yours.

It doesn’t matter that he’d already kissed you a mere ten minutes ago.

Because this kiss—and all of his kisses—are like snowflakes. Unique, and special, and one of a kind.

It makes your stomach flip, and your head grow fuzzy, and your ears ring.

Because it’s never just a kiss.

It’s an unspoken vow of love and loyalty.

“I love you,” he whispers, soft enough that you imagine only you can hear.

You nod quickly as you press your lips into his bottom one. “I love you,” you repeat. “Don’t be stupid.”

He grins as he releases you. “Never.”

With that, you follow Asher out of the apartment, leaving Harry to finish a few things before heading to the warehouse.

However, instead of Asher’s familiar car, you’re brought to a stop in front of a rather intimidating looking motorcycle.

“And what…is this?” you ask as he grabs a helmet off the handle.

He chuckles while outstretching it toward you. “What’s it look like, sweetheart?”

“You want to take this?” you nearly stammer, eyeing the dark black death machine. “What was wrong with your car?”

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug. “Not nearly as fun, now, is it?”

Your response is a flat expression, and he laughs again.

“There’s a higher chance of somebody recognizing my car,” he explains as he moves to swing his leg over the bike. “But they won’t recognize this.”

It’s an adequate justification you suppose. And you aren’t opposed to riding one. You and Harry used to ride together all the time back when you first met.

But never when you had a plug in.

Swallowing your nerves, you slip the helmet over your head as Asher starts the engine, his observant eyes flicking across the dash.

Straddling onto the back of the seat behind him, you watch while he revs the throttle, and props his foot up.

Then, he glances toward his shoulder. “You ready, sweetheart?”

You swallow, arms slipping around his dark black t-shirt. “Where’s your helmet?”

He smirks. “Only have the one. But I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”

You can’t help the disapproving frown that forms. “Ash—”

“Don’t worry,” he insists, chuckling as he returns his attention forward. “Just hold on, yeah?”

With that, the bike jolts forward, and you cement yourself to his back as he swings a right and leads you both out of the parking lot.

He’s on the highway in twenty seconds flat, swaying from side to side as he slips between the cars. It’s one effortless, fluid motion that makes your heart drop to your stomach, but more than that…it’s exhilarating.

In fact, you don’t even have time to be anxious when each bump you hit and turn you make stimulates the small object beneath you.

And you’re trying not to let it affect you. Trying so hard to keep your focus on the two-hour ride you have ahead of you.

But then the tires will roll over a small rock, and your eyes will roll back in your head.

Your fingers dig into the fabric on Asher’s chest as you squeeze for dear life. And he glances back from time to time, just to make sure you’re all right.

But you’re not all right. And you won’t be until you take this damn thing out.

“You okay?” he yells once you’ve left the city.

You nod. “Yeah,” you call back, although your boa constrictor-like grip suggests otherwise. “Just peachy.”

You catch his smile before he gets off the exit and begins down a seemingly abandoned back road.

There’s still ninety minutes to go, so you will yourself to relax. To focus on anything else besides the throbbing between your legs. Or the position of your clit against the seat. Or the way your chest is pressed to Asher’s back.

But it seems as though the entire universe is working against you in this moment, and despite your best efforts, you find that you’re losing the game.

And when the bike rounds a particularly sharp corner, it all comes to a hilt.

A rather airy moan slips free as you scratch your nails down his chest, and you catch the way he sneaks a look back at you.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks again, seemingly unaware of the nature behind your noise.

However, speaking will only make things worse, so you nod mutely and pull your lip between your teeth.

This answer satiates him for a while longer before it happens again, and your whimpers become harder to hide.

He doesn’t question you this time around, but a quick glance over his profile proves that he’s beginning to understand why these noises are different.

And so familiar.

You’re thankful he doesn’t ask you to explain. That he doesn’t directly call out your subtle grinding or the desperate whines that dance through the wind and find him.

Instead, he carries on with the ride as though he hasn’t noticed, and this alone gives you the strength to keep your impending orgasm at bay.

After all, Harry would be quite disappointed to find out he’d missed such a sight.

And you don’t imagine starting off the evening with Harry’s disapproval will work in your favor.

The next hour feels like the slow crawl of death. The tortuous journey nearly dragging you to the finish line as Asher finally arrives at the gated building.

You just about moan with relief when he punches in the code, pulls into the parking lot, and brings the motorbike to a stop.

And the moment the engine is killed, you have to bite back a whine, thankful for the reprieve from the vibrations against your cunt.

Asher helps you stand to your feet before slipping the helmet off your head and placing it back on the handle.

You notice he’s smiling in that charming, boyish way. A look that you’re more than familiar with, and it instantly calms your remaining nerves as he leads you inside.

He spends the first few minutes surveying the premises. Checking each closet, door, and hallway for any security risks or planted bugs. He then radios Paul and instructs him to confirm to Harry that the location is secure.

Finally, once Asher is satisfied, he joins you in the living room, and returns his gun to his belt.

“How you feelin’?” he asks, perching on the edge of the seat just beside you.

You swallow thickly and squeeze your thighs a bit tighter together. “Hm? Oh, good. Yeah. Good. Better. Now that we’re…on the ground again.”

He exhales a gentle laugh, and you feel your cheeks fill with heat. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. It was…fun.”

His brow jumps up. “Yeah?”

Shit. You glance back down at your lap and nod once. “Mhm.”

Once again, he finds amusement through your timid behavior and lack of eye contact. But you can’t explain why, and you can’t exactly fight it. So, you surrender to the docile demeanor, keeping your focus on your cuticles as you wait for Harry to join you.

“Hey, Ash?” you venture after a moment, breaking the comfortable quiet.

His head turns to you.

“Are you…nervous? About tonight?” you begin hesitantly, letting yourself steal a glimpse of his quizzical expression. “I mean…is this something you really want to do? Or is Harry manhandling you into it?”

He laughs, and the warm sound echoes around the room. “Believe me, sweetheart. I am more than okay with it.”

You shift in your spot on the sofa, angling your body to fully face him. “Okay, but…are you sure? Just because he’s your boss doesn’t mean you have to do everything he says. He won’t kill you if you say no.”

He grins so big you can see his teeth. “That’s not why I agreed. I agreed because he was right. It’s my job to take care of you.”

You sigh, features playfully unamused. “I think this goes well beyond the specifications of your job description.”

“Maybe. But you’re his girl. And I’d do anything for either of you.”

“Even this?”

“Even this.”

“And it’s not…weird?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You hesitate. “No…I’ve known you forever. I feel safe with you.”

“Good.” He seems genuinely pleased with this. “This isn’t about me, sweetheart. This is about you. About both of you. Harry likes an audience and I’m happy to give him one.”

You suppose this is true. You’ve always known this about your boyfriend and truth be told, you can’t imagine a better audience than Asher.

You spend the next half hour or so exchanging stories about the aforementioned man. The different moods he has, the different coping methods he’s developed, and even a few of his more taboo kinks.

Asher remarks on how different Harry was when he was younger, although he’s not surprised that this is the man he became. And he’s happy that you found each other. That you can be Harry’s light.

And you’re happy that Harry can be your darkness.

Not long after, the security system calls a shrill word of warning from its spot on the wall as Asher leaps to his feet and heads for the door.

He sneaks a hand behind his back, fingers curling on the base of the gun still hidden beneath his belt while cautiously approaching. Then, after a quick look over the monitor, he presses a button and instantly steps back to allow the door to swing open.

And in strides Harry.

He looks about the same as when you left him. He’s still donning his dark, matte suit. His hair is still perfectly displaced, and his skin is still thankfully free of any blood.

A good sign.

But everything else is off. His ordinarily indifferent expression has grown hard. Unforgiving. His jaw seems to be clenched so tight, you’re worried he might chip a tooth. The veins in his neck are corded and pushing against his skin, and even from the sofa, you can see there’s an emptiness in his eye.

Asher begins to frown. “What happened?”

Harry’s head shakes as he looks from his right-hand man to you. “Not now,” he says simply, voice dripping with malicious disdain. “I don’t want to think about it right now.”

Instead, he brushes past Asher and makes a beeline for you. And your heart flutters inside your chest as you look up at the tall man coming to a quick stop before you.

He reaches out and snatches your chin in his palm, gently but firmly tugging you upright until he can connect his lips with yours.

This kiss is angry. Vindictive. Filled with remorse and malevolent indignation. It captures each desperate gasp for air, and he swallows your timid compliance mercilessly.

When he feels generous enough to allow you a breath, you’re tucked beneath his arm while he presses his mouth against your temple.

“How was it?” he whispers, and there’s a certain strain to his inquisition that suggests he’s wrestling a larger demon within himself.

You nod gently and let the smell of his familiar cologne envelope you—calm you. “It was good.”

“Yeah?” He looks to Asher. “No problems?”

“Not…exactly,” Asher replies, and you watch the corner of his mouth dance with the idea of smirking.

Harry’s eyebrow raises. “And what does that mean?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a problem,” Asher explains, letting his focus fall to you. “But I think she did have a bit of an interesting ride.”

Harry’s head rolls until he can look down at you. “Oh?”

Your skin warms under the heat of his gaze as you tangle your fingers into his nice shirt. “Couldn’t help it. Felt so good, Har.”

You watch as Harry’s calloused features dissolve into that of smug intrigue. “I bet it did, mama. Does he know why?”

The spotlight swings to Asher, who stands a few feet away, exceedingly curious.

Your lips roll into your mouth as you shake your head.

Harry smiles. “Then why don’t you show him?”

Eager to do just that, you stand back, and lace your fingers around the waistband of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn around, and begin shimmying the denim material down your thighs. Then, you continue to guide the pants down to your ankles, body bending until they reach the floor.

And the moment you’re bent over, you hear Asher curse.

He’s got a direct line of sight to the purple object Harry placed neatly between your ass. And now he understands why the ride on his motorcycle was so…stimulating for you. Why it had you whimpering in his ear as he rocked the bike from side to side while racing through the mountains.

And after you’ve stood back up and turned around, you can see exactly what this revelation does to him.

Harry chuckles underneath his breath as he slips his palm across your bare hip, guiding you back to him. “S’pretty, isn’t it?”

Asher swallows visibly before forcing a curt nod. “Mhm. Very.”

“All nice and stretched for you,” Harry murmurs before grinning down at your hopeful expression. “Aren’t you, honey? You ready to take him?”

You nearly mewl as you nod your enthusiastic agreement, once more grasping onto his shirt as if to plead with him.

“I know,” he coos, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Bet it’s been aching all day, hm? Know you’re so excited.”

And you are. You’ve never felt more infatuated with an idea, and the longer they take to ruin you, the worse the need gets.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers, guiding his thumb toward your lips before slipping it inside your mouth.

You suck, instantly calmed as you sweep your tongue around him, and allow yourself to settle.

“Gotta go over some rules first, yeah?” he says, a bit louder now so you both can hear.

Asher steps closer.

“One…this is about you, mama,” Harry begins, echoing Asher’s earlier sentiments. “We’re not here to hurt you, or punish you, or make you feel unsafe. Is that understood?”

You nod.

He pops his finger free just to take hold of your jaw. “Two…you use your words. Always. You tell us that you’re okay or if you need to stop. If you don’t, I end it.”

You nod again, but he frowns.

“Okay,” you agree verbally, and he hums. “I will.”

Pleased, he carries on. “Three…” He turns to Asher now. “You don’t come inside her. Not her ass. Not her throat. Nothing. You pull out, you get yourself off, and that’s it.”

For some reason, you almost feel embarrassed by the unrelenting and rather strict condition that Harry proposes.

But Asher merely replies, “Understood.”

“And you wear a condom,” Harry adds. “I won’t risk her health because of this. I don’t care if you’re clean, I don’t care if you’re gentle. The only one that gets to feel her is me.”

“Understood.”

Harry’s attention returns to you. “If at any point you want to stop, or you want him gone, or you feel unsure…you fucking tell me. I don’t care if we haven’t come. I don’t care if you think you need to make us happy, make us finish. You tell me. And we’ll talk about it.”

Another resolute rule. “I know, Har. I will. I promise.”

But he’s not finished. “And if you slip into your subspace, then I make the call. If I think you need to be through, then we’re through. And I don’t want any whining or begging. We stop, and that’s that.”

The anticipation just about kills you. Already, your eagerness to be put in these situations lures you into a submissive state of mind. Until everything whittles down to what he’s saying. What he’s offering.

“Okay,” you breathe, bouncing on the tips of your toes. “Okay, I swear.”

He studies you for a moment. Perhaps looking for any deception or perhaps he’s deciding if you’re truly hearing him.

But you know he’s just as keen as you are to begin, so he nods his approval before tapping his finger over your mouth once more.

“Good girl,” he hums. “Now…take my rings off for me.”

Your breath hitches as you step closer, instantly taking hold of his wrist to hold his hand where you need it.

And both men watch as you lick your tongue up his palm and right toward his middle digit.

Once you’ve reached the tip, you wrap your lips around him and move down, teeth gently grazing his skin as you go.

You vaguely catch his mumbled curse as you reach the delicate piece of jewelry. But you pay it no mind, instead keeping your focus on swirling your tongue around the ring before latching onto it and sucking it back up.

Once it’s off, he holds out his other hand, and you let it drop.

He smirks. “Good girl. Now the others.”

You move to the next one, repeating the pattern of pulling and guiding, all while making sure to put on a show.

You never once deviate your eyes from his, allowing him to see just how much you enjoy completing such a menial, borderline degrading task.

And you let him know just how much you love when he’s in charge.

It’s rare he offers to let you take the reins. But when he does, it’s still quite fun. After all, he thinks it’s cute when you’re his dominant and you think it’s cute that he pretends you actually are.

Once his fingers are ring free, he slips his palm around the back of your neck and gives it a squeeze. “Bedroom. Now.”

Slightly disappointed to steal yourself from him, you nod and begin for the room just off the hallway.

The boys follow a few feet behind, and you can hear their soft murmurings, but you don’t inquire to know the details. You imagine you’ll find out soon enough.

Once you’ve all gathered around the mattress, Harry takes your hand, brings your knuckles to his lips, and winks.

Your skin warms from the rather innocent display of affection before he’s leading you to the bed. You’re placed between his legs while he settles back against the headboard, and the moment you’re comfortable, his large hands curl around your thighs and drag them apart.

Then, Asher makes himself known, crawling into the newly made space until he can nestle down onto his stomach.

He takes hold of your hips, and with a little help from Harry, manages to lift you up so he can slip a pillow beneath your ass.

You swallow.

“It’s Asher’s turn to taste you,” Harry tells you simply, dipping down until his mouth can dance across your ear. “And I’m gonna be nice…and let him.”

You push yourself into Harry’s chest, head dropping onto his shoulder as you scratch your nails down his arms. You can’t find a response. Don’t really need one. You just need them.

Asher seems encouraged by your willing silence, smiling to himself as he scoots closer and smooths his touch up your legs.

“You ready, sweetheart?” His voice is calm. Reassuring. Familiar and all around safe.

You nod before Harry pinches your thigh and reminds you of his rule. “Yes,” you say aloud. “Yes, I’m ready.”

You feel Harry smirk against your cheek.

With that, Asher dives forward. You weren’t sure how he would feel. You know how his fingers feel. Know his touch, and his voice, and the way he looks at you.

But this…this is new. Wonderful, and soft, and just a bit dangerous.

It’s even a bit messy. How could it not be with the way you’ve been drenched since the moment Harry put the plug in. Truth be told, you’re not sure the difference between your arousal and Asher’s contribution.

Either way, his large tongue licks up your cunt like this is the first drink of water he’s had in years. Like you’re the only remedy to his deprivation. As if he knows this is the first and only time Harry will ever allow him to taste you.

He indulges in you. Nips at you with the fervent desire to feast. To lick through you, to devour you, to savor everything you have to offer.

He’s relentless and yet patient. He takes his time because he knows you have more to give. Knows that you’re enjoying this as much as he is.

“Look at you, mama,” Harry whispers, his strong fingers pressing marks into your tender skin as he keeps you spread. “Fucking love this, don’t you?”

And you do, so you nod zealously, whimpering beneath a pained breath as you squirm between Harry’s legs.

“How does he feel, hm?” he asks next, running his nose along your temple. “S’he making you feel good, honey?”

Your answer comes in the form of a salacious moan, your jaw going slack as you suck in a sharp breath.

“Is that a yes?” Harry pushes. “’Cause if he’s not…I’ll put a fucking bullet through his head.”

And you can feel Asher curse against your pussy before he’s sucking your clit into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as you whine.

The threat lingers for just a moment, met only with more needy whimpers, and lewd licks to your cunt.

You don’t imagine Harry would ever follow through on such an ultimatum, but the look in Asher’s eye almost convinces you otherwise.

Harry’s decisions are rarely ever made through calm, sound logic. More often than not, his choices are the result of a short temper and lack of patience.

And you. Despite what he might tell you, you are the sole reason for his insanity. He will stop at nothing to keep you with him. Keep this little life you two have built.

And if Asher happened to compromise that…

You shiver from the very thought, and from the way your orgasm is beginning to unravel.

“Are you close, sweet girl?” Harry murmurs, pulling you a bit wider. “Hm? Does it ache, baby? Need to let go? Need to come?”

You’re trying to nod, trying to breathe, trying to do anything but cry desperately as you writhe between his arms.

He only hums. “No.”

With that, Asher pops his mouth from your clit and straightens up, leaving your swollen, sensitive, and quite red cunt where he found it.

You wilt. Become absolutely unhinged as the loss of pleasure leaves you desolate and depraved.

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, whining as you tug on his wrists.

“No,” he repeats calmly. “No, not gonna waste your first on him. Want your first around us, mama. Gonna be around our cocks, yeah?”

Truthfully, you want nothing else, and you just about purr as you murmur your agreement, and scoot back into his body.

He chuckles when he feels the way you’re trying to pull your legs from beneath his hands, clearly desperate for some sort of friction. And you hope he’ll have pity on you. At least let you find a bit of relief before you begin.

However, he only smacks his large hand down your naked thigh in warning before you feel his mouth press to your cheek.

“No,” he repeats for a third time. “Enough. Told you to behave, didn’t I?”

You fight to catch your breath. “…yes.”

“So behave.”

God, you could just about come from his tone of voice alone. The angry and virile hiss that he only uses when he’s truly lost on you. In the need to own you, claim you, ruin you completely.

He smacks your leg again, albeit gentler this time around. “Up.”

A bit confused, you wearily push yourself onto your knees until you can straighten up and steal a glimpse of the man behind you.

He smirks when sees the confused expression on your face before jutting his chin toward his pants. “Take ‘em off.”

And you’re more than happy to oblige. So, while Asher stands from the bed and begins to strip himself of his own clothing, you get to work on Harry.

Shaky, excitable fingers move for the dark waistband around his hips. They pinch the zipper and drag it down before tugging on the material until it can slip down his legs.

You wiggle backward as you guide the pants off before tossing them aside to focus on his briefs.

And you just about drool when you get to see him. His strong, tan thighs. The muscles that quiver and dip as he scoots up. The way you can see the bulge straining against the fabric of his underwear as you greedily move closer.

The moment you make contact with the band, however, Harry snatches hold of your wrists to slow you down.

“Easy, mama,” he instructs softly, thumbs stroking across the joints of your hand. “You’re okay. Not nervous, are you?”

Having mistaken your trembling touch for unease, he attempts to pull you to him.

But you merely smile and shake your head. “No, I promise. I’m excited.”

“Are you sure?” His expression is quizzical. Scrutinizing. Looking to see if he needs to make a call you can’t make for yourself.

But you grin and surge forward, pressing your lips to his as he sighs. “Promise,” you repeat, using this distraction as an opportunity to rip his briefs down.

He hisses when his cocks comes free, forehead finding yours before he looks down to see it.

In fact, you both look, and you feel utterly mesmerized by the way it calls to you. The way it’s hard and ready to be touched.

All for you.

You’d take him into your mouth right now if that’s what he wanted but you know he wants to save each ounce of his pleasure for you.

So, you simply toss the underwear aside, and anxiously stare at his shirt.

This is what you’d like to rid him of next, but without his explicit instruction, you’re forced to wait. To stare at the black fabric until he realizes what it is you want.

And when he does, he smiles.

“All right,” he concedes, sitting up so you can peel it off. “Go ahead.”

You waste no more time, slipping your hands around the hem before pulling it up and over his head.

Now…you see him. All of him. Naked, and sculpted, and so goddamn beautiful. Your own work of art, right here in front of you, ready for the taking.

And you can’t wait to take him.

Now, the attention returns to you. You’re still in the oversized t-shirt you’d slipped on earlier, and while it’s quite comfortable, you know for Harry, this just won’t do.

So, he smooths his palms along your thighs, over your hips, and across your stomach before guiding the shirt up.

You shiver with every brush of his skin against yours, and nearly whine when you feel his thumbs sweep just below the swell of your breasts.

But he doesn’t linger. Because of course he doesn’t. Instead, he plucks the material from your body, and tosses it onto the pile of clothes already gathering on the floor.

The bed dips, reminding you of your guest, and just before you can turn to see him, Harry grasps onto your jaw.

He keeps your focus on him, an emphatic frown sitting comfortably on his mouth. “Promise me.”

You hesitate, momentarily unsure what he means.

Then…you do.

You squeeze his arm between both hands and smile gently. “I promise.”

And you’ve never seen him so happy.

A second body appears behind your own, a subtle warmth radiating from the soft skin as it ghosts across your back.

You quickly relax, already feeling safer from the way you’re sandwiched between the two men.

And Harry is pleased with this, letting his eyes flick to the second-in-command just over your shoulder.

“Take it out,” he instructs before his hands move to your hips. “Gonna need to breathe, mama.”

You nod as Harry pulls you over his lap, settling one knee on either side of his hips until you’re in the position to straddle him.

And Asher shuffles forward as well, kneeling between Harry’s bent legs while Harry scoots a bit further down until more of his back is on the mattress.

Then, you feel a set of fingers dance across your ass and toward the toy so snugly placed within.

Your lashes flutter as Asher uses his other hand to sweep some of your hair over your right shoulder, allowing him a better view of your back.

“There you go,” he whispers encouragingly as he gets a grip on the plug. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You pull in a quick breath. “Yes.”

Harry smiles.

Without another thought, Asher begins to slide the object out of your tighter hole, agonizingly slow as Harry brings you toward his cock and pushes the head against you.

The dual sensation makes you stumble over a frantic gasp as you place your hands on Harry’s chest to brace yourself.

But this is only the beginning as Harry nudges himself through your soaked folds and toward where you drip for him.

Then…he thrusts up.

The moment his cock slips in, Asher completely removes the plug, leaving you empty and yet somehow full.

It’s confusing, and wonderful, and overwhelming. And you can’t seem to focus on any one thing as you hear the toy being tossed onto the mattress before Asher is bringing himself closer.

“Okay, honey, you all right?” Harry grits between clenched teeth, clearly fighting the urge to ram himself into you.

Or perhaps he’s merely fighting the sight of Asher pressing his chest to your shoulder blades.

Either way, you nod. “Yes, m’okay. Ready.”

“That’s our girl,” Harry breathes, and you hear Asher hum behind you. “Gonna have to relax for me, mama. If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not gonna make it.”

You do your best to unclench. To mellow out, slacken the strain on your muscles. And it works, allowing Harry to push in a bit further as your chest just about caves in.

It’s enthralling, but it always is with him. And despite how well your body knows his cock, it continues to stretch for him, beckoning him in as he groans and digs his fingers into your thighs.

“There you go,” he murmurs, the muscles near the edge of his jaw twitching as he surges forward. “S’a good fucking girl. Taking me so well, sugar.”

You mewl as you wiggle over him, needing him to fill you all the way before you’ll feel fully satisfied.

And Asher attempts to help ease your neediness, familiar hands smoothing up your arms and toward your shoulders.

Then, he presses his lips to the side of your throat, and you just about collapse.

However, the moment your eyes roll back, Harry makes one final thrust, completely disappearing inside of you.

He curses as you whimper, a rather pathetic noise scraping from your throat as your head drops forward until your chin meets your chest.

“Fucking hell, mama,” he grunts, nails scratching patterns into your feverish skin. “Feel so good for me, sweet girl. You like sittin’ on my cock? Hm? Like getting to feel me in your tummy?”

But you can’t speak. Can’t. Your entire mouth has gone numb as Harry slowly begins to lift you back up just so he can thrust into you again.

“What a tight little pussy,” he seethes, the sound of him slipping through your arousal echoing throughout the air. “He’s gonna fucking love it, isn’t he? Gonna fucking love to feel you the way I do. Gonna make his fucking day.”

And almost as if to prove Harry’s point, you feel the head of Asher’s cock brush against your lower back until a sharp chill runs down your spine.

A thin layer of sweat has begun to coat your entire body as you impatiently wait for the second-in-command to join in. You know he won’t until Harry deems you ready, but you wish he’d just do it anyway.

It might be fun to see Harry mad.

Already, you feel that familiar tinge of pleasure making a home between your legs. It’s far too easy with the way you were edged earlier but now it just about ruins you.

“Okay,” Harry murmurs, his own chest rising and falling with quick breaths as he sheaths himself inside your cunt. “Okay, Ash, go. Go.”

And before you can even thirstily dwell on the implication of this permission, you feel another hand on your hip as the tip of Asher’s cock sweeps down your ass.

“Easy,” comes the sultry command of the man behind you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart, yeah? Just need you to breathe for me.”

“Okay,” you pant, head rolling back until it can settle into his shoulder.

He smiles against your cheek. “Doing so good. M’gonna go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat, eyes screwing shut from the lack of stimulation.

You hear him pump himself a time or two, the sound of the lube he must have applied when you were focused on Harry making you whine.

Then, you feel him pull your cheeks apart, and gingerly trail the tip of his cock between.

“Breathe,” Harry reminds you, straining to speak through his clenched jaw. “Make daddy happy, honey. Come on.”

So, you do. You suck in a greedy gasp for air, hold it in your lungs, and then release it back into the room.

Pleased, Harry brings one hand to your chest, tweaking your nipple between his fingers, and right as he does, you feel Asher slip in.

Your mouth drops open, a frantic moan catching in your throat as you roll forward, nearly collapsing onto Harry’s chest.

But he catches you. They both do, quick to encourage you back upright so Asher can continue, and you feel your mind grow hazy.

“There she is,” Harry whispers, kneading your tit in his palm. “Shit, mama. M’so fucking proud of you. Look so pretty right now, taking him. Does it feel good? You feel okay?”

And you appreciate his concern more than anything in the world, your heart fluttering in your chest as you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, an airy reply that’s almost lost beneath the sound of Asher’s forced exhale. “I’m okay. Promise.”

Harry releases your chest to press his hand to your cheek, thumb stroking just below your eye. “My precious girl. Knew you’d behave for us. Love getting to see you like this. All fucked out and happy. Are you happy, sugar?”

You are. So utterly and unconditionally happy right now that you feel tears spring to your lash line as you turn to press your mouth into Harry’s palm.

He sighs at the feel of your kiss against his skin, but the tender moment between you is cut short when Asher finally pushes in to the hilt, forcing a surprised whimper.

The overwhelming feel of both men—both cocks—stretching you from the inside out is almost more than you can handle. Because it’s everything. Everywhere. All at once. You know them both in the most intimate of ways, and a mangled cry rips from your tongue as they offer you a moment to adjust.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Asher asks, nudging his nose beneath your jaw. You can hear how hard he’s trying not to groan—can feel the restraint he’s using to keep himself still.

It takes you a minute to find a response, nearly winded from the all-consuming rush of pleasure.

Then, Harry taps your cheek firmly, and moves his hand to your throat. “Speak, mama. You know the rule.”

“I’m…yes,” you huff, attempting to roll your hips. “Yes, please…please, Har. Need…need—”

You watch his eyes flick to Asher before he swallows thickly and nods once. “Okay. All right, we’ve got you.”

And so begins the soft but purposeful thrusts.

They work in tandem, easing out of you slowly just to push back in, basking in the sound of your wetness dripping down their cocks, and the way your body tenses.

They speak in hushed but lustful tones. Their hands never leave you, their focus never leaves you.

Asher commits to kissing along the slope of your shoulder while Harry obligates his attention to running his fingers down your skin.

He scratches, and pulls, and squeezes every inch of your body. And he watches you. Watches you with the kind of adoration that makes the coil nearly snap into a million irremediable pieces.

Suddenly, Harry reaches around your hip to grasp onto Asher’s wrist, and you watch with wide eyes as he brings the right-hand man’s palm to your stomach.

Then…he thrusts up.

“Feel that?” he just about growls, looking between you. “That’s how fucking deep I am. That’s how well she fucking takes me.”

The pressure of their touch against the bulge in your belly has the whines falling miserably from your mouth. A sound that mixes almost wickedly with Asher’s own animalistic grunts as Harry hisses between clenched teeth.

This is what seems to set them off. Their rhythm switches from slow and soft to hard and fast. Needing to feel the way your warmth completely and wholly clenches down.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Asher grumbles, his chest knocking into your back with each snap of his hips. “You feel full? Feel good?”

“Yes,” you cry, nails scratching down Harry’s chest as you move in time with their pattern. “Please…don’t…don’t stop—”

“Never, baby,” Harry bites, driving in so deep, it almost hurts. “Fucking never stop. Give you everything—”

“Shit—”

“Can feel you, baby. Feel your little pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna come? Gonna come for us?”

“Yes…yes, yes—”

“Yeah? Go ahead, mama. Fucking come. Let him feel how fucking good you are to me. Let him know what it’s like to have you coming around his cock—”

You scream something akin to his name when it hits you, eyes rolling so far back, you see stars.

You lose time. Lose everything, nearly lose consciousness. And they don’t stop. They fuck you through every second, and the sounds they make almost send you into a second.

You can’t differentiate between the two, but your ears fill with the melodic sound of whimpers and grunts of appreciation as they fuck themselves deeper. As they hit each spot so perfectly that it almost kills you.

But Harry’s not through. He presses his fingers into your clit and chases after another orgasm. Pinching and pressing and rubbing until you’re attempting to squirm away from him, begging him to stop, to let you breathe.

Your cheeks are stained with ecstatic tears as you come undone for a second time, quicker but still blissfully euphoric.

“Please, please, please,” you hear yourself whine, slumping forward as Asher wraps an arm around your middle to keep you upright. “Please…Har…please. Can’t…can’t…”

“Shh, you’re all right,” comes the distant but gentle sound of Harry’s voice, vaguely keeping you present as your mind attempts to float away. “So fucking proud of you, mama. M’not through with you yet.”

“Please…”

“Easy, honey. It’s okay. Just gonna play with you a little longer. You’ll let Daddy play you with your little clit, yeah?”

You nod mutely, humming to yourself as he pinches the sensitive nerves between the pads of his fingers. “Har…”

“I know,” he coos as Asher releases a deep breath in your ear. “Hurts, doesn’t it? All swollen, aren’t you?”

Again, you can do nothing but move your head up and down lazily as you lean back into Asher’s chest.

“Gonna give me one more, baby,” Harry instructs, thrusts faltering the closer he nears his own release. “Just one fucking more, and Daddy will be so proud. Both be so proud of you.”

And that alone is enough to encourage your compliance, forcing the third to hit you fast like a runaway train before you can even see it coming.

You make it about halfway through the glaringly wonderful rush of endorphins when Harry is suddenly straightening up, placing a hand on Asher’s shoulder, and shoving him back.

Asher’s cock slips from your hole as he’s pushed away from you, leaving you to gasp.

“No,” Harry seethes, shooting a malevolent and unyielding look toward his second-in-command. “You’re done. You fucking finish over there.”

You aren’t afforded the chance to understand just what’s occurred before Harry is settling back onto the bed and thrusting his hips upward.

His cock completely disappears inside your pussy, forcing a debauched sound to bleed from your mouth as he twitches and finally releases himself into you.

And it’s exactly like you remember. Warm, and good, and exciting. The look on his face as he fills you. The way his tan skin glistens with a sheen of sweat and the beautiful sounds that slip between his lips.

You’d stay here a lifetime if you could.

Which seems to be his intention because even after he’s finished, he refuses to let you move. Instead wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest, his chin meeting the top of your head.

He keeps his cock warm inside you for quite some time. All throughout the sound of Asher pumping himself off until he comes over his hand and stomach.

Minutes pass until the room falls silent. Until you’ve all caught your breath and found your way back to the present.

Eventually, Harry shifts, and you can hear him murmur something to the man behind you.

You don’t catch it through your hazy state of mind, but you feel comforted in hearing the familiar cadence of their voices.

You’re scooped up into a pair of arms and walked into another room. You blink the fog from your eyes as Asher flips on the shower and Harry places you back onto your feet.

You’re kept steady as you’re guided beneath the warm, gentle stream of water and you instantly nuzzle your face in Harry’s chest as he chuckles.

The two men dedicate their time to running some soap down your body, between your legs, along your back, and across your chest.

Harry is gentle when he massages the shampoo into your hair, despite the way you pout as you’re pulled from his body.

But the moment he’s finished, you bury yourself back into his arms, smiling to yourself when you feel his chest vibrate from laughter.

Asher and Harry continue their quiet conversation as they clean themselves. Still, you can’t quite decipher the distinct words or topic of conversation, but do manage to make out one exchange in particular:

“Are you sure?” Asher asks.

“Always,” Harry whispers. “We will always be hers.”

Once thoroughly bathed, they help you step out, and lead you back to the bedroom. Harry is there to put you in clean underwear and one of his shirts while Asher gathers his things and heads back to the living room to keep watch for the night.

“Sleepy girl,” Harry hums as he lays you onto the mattress before slipping in behind you. “M’so fucking proud of you, honey. Thank you for letting us make you feel good.”

And you giggle to yourself, confused as to why Harry would need to thank you for something like that. “Always.”

He chuckles as well.

Sometime in the night, long after you’ve fallen asleep, you feel a particular and familiar chill travel up your cunt and settle in your stomach.

After shaking the sleep from your mind, you push up onto your elbows and glance down.

You see Harry’s tattooed arm peeking out from between the blankets, rolling and flexing in time with the blissfully sweet ministrations between your thighs.

Then, you see Harry.

“Shh,” he whispers, leaning closer to press his lips to your jaw. “M’sorry, mama. But I need one more. Need your last one to belong to me.”

You smile as you nuzzle into him, nodding quickly in support. “Please, Har…”

“I know,” he replies, trailing his tongue down your neck. “Gonna make it better.”

With that, he takes his hand from your cunt only to wrap his fingers around the fabric of your underwear…and rip.

It snaps from your body as you gasp and instantly wiggly against the mattress, still sensitive from everything else before.

Then…he tosses it toward the shadows in the corner of the room.

Your eyes follow the lace as it’s flung through the air, choking on a whimper when you see a hand quickly outstretch to capture it.

Asher.

He’s sitting comfortably in a lounge chair, smirking at you both as you attempt to work out what you’re seeing. The soft light from the moon outside the window cascades across the side of his face. Just enough for you to make out his intrigued expression.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he calls, and the teasing but always caring sound of his voice makes you sigh contently.

“Hold these for me, yeah?” Harry instructs his partner, who nods and tucks the underwear into his fist.

Then, Harry’s attention returns to you.

“Think you can give me another?” he murmurs, grinning down at you with so much love, it makes your chest ache.

You shiver as the tips of his fingers return to your clit.

“Always.”

God, why do I love them??? Technically this is the end but I will be doing blurbs because I am needy and cannot let them go!!!

Thank you to everyone that's read and been so kind!!! I appreciate you so much!! As does Asher, who would not have had such an important role if it weren't for all of his fans!! 💞💞

Next Part:

~ Remedy* (A Mine Extra)

Previous Parts:

~ Mine* (Pt. 1)

~ Ours* (Pt. 2)

~ Yours* (Pt. 3)

~ Theirs* (Pt. 4)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tag List:

@vamprry @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virqinvirgo @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles concept #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles fanfic #fan #fanfic #mafiarry #mafia!harry #harry styles mafia #harry and asher

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b0r3dtod3ath · 1 year

Text

"Cause I <3 you, you’re the one that I adore :)"

Formula 1 masterlist

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Assistant!reader x rdr!seb. Based on this request. Set during the 2012 season.

A/N: I know a few people wanted me to write this trope so here it is :) Also this fic is loosely inspired by BBM baby by Lana Del Rey.

“Yea, I still don’t understand why I need an assistant” Well this sentence certainly didn’t calm your anxiety as you were sitting on a chair, staring at the door. You were supposed to meet your boss, well not really a boss but a person you were supposed to help. He wasn’t just a random person, he was Sebastian Vettel, two-time world champion in Formula 1. You were a fan of this sport so when an opportunity for you to work in that field appeared, you took it without thinking twice. Maybe you weren’t one of the most important employees on the paddock nonetheless you still got to travel the world and be a part of every race week. “Sebastian, you were late for the last three meetings. I can’t be looking after you all the time.” a female voice said. You recognized it - it was Sebastian’s press officer. She was a lovely lady. You got to meet her because she was the one recruiting you. “So you are really getting me a babysitter?” huffed the driver. The door in front of you opened causing you to jump from your seat and put on a smile. “Hi! Nice to see you again! Come on in!” said the lady. As you walked in a tall, blonde boy sat up and introduced himself “Sebastian Vettel. You can call me Seb. Nice to meet you.” The eye contact made your cheeks heat up a little “Y/N Y/L/N, pleasure working with you”. As you sat down you heard Sebastian whisper a quiet “It sure is” under his nose.

You came up with the idea of a maximum of 10-minute long meetings after breakfast during the race weekend. They were meant for you to give Seb a quick overview for the day - what is he doing at what time. You were sitting at the hotel’s restaurant, waiting for him to show up, you didn’t expect him to show up on time but he barely managed to. “Hi, sorry. I hope you didn’t wait long” he said as he sat opposite to you. “Good morning, I’m fine, you are on time actually” you greeted him with a smile, chuckling at his messy bed hair. “So today you are supposed to first meet your physiotherapist and then” you were interrupted by sniffling. Probably a morning runny nose. You grabbed your small purse and handed a tissue to the man. “Thank you” he said, surprised that you noticed. “So then you have a first practice session at 1PM and..” - you quickly went over what was planned for the day “Alright, any questions? If you really want to move some meetings then let me know and I will try to figure out something. I’m leaving this paper for you to know what’s going on and I think that’s it.” you handed him a post-it note with everything neatly written. Cute writing he thought as he looked at it "There's also my number if you need something and I happen not to be around”. Oh yea, he was definitely gonna use this one.

After a few races, you started developing a more casual relationship - it could even be called a friendship. The chemistry never left working hours. You didn’t understand why but it bothered you. Well, you noticed some signals - butterflies in your stomach appearing when you two held eye contact for more than a second, your heart skipping a beat when you accidentally touch or the heat rising to your cheeks every time he calls you by your nickname. You were a walking symptom of having a crush and yet you denied it. “I’m working for him, of course, we have to be nice to each other! He’s like that to every female reporter, a cheeky little bastard.” or “It’s his job to treat me nice.” you used to tell your friend on a phone, whispering as if Sebastian was to hear you. Little did you know, he has in fact changed his behavior towards women once you appeared in his life, he started being less flirty and reckless but not in terms of you. He would never tell you to do anything for him because it felt weird to him. At first, you were looking after him like he was a child - checking in if he was hungry or if he needed water. He never complained about being looked after because he found it comforting. He felt like you were truly caring for him, a feeling that he hadn’t felt in years due to his lifestyle.

You would never call him unless he was late. Sebastian was in his hotel room, sprawled out on the bed, head with messy blonde hair buried in pillows. His peaceful sleep was interrupted by the sound of his ringtone. “Huh?” his eyes still closed “Seb, you were supposed to text me when you wake up so you won’t be late again. Please tell me you got up” your voice was a sound he wished to wake up for the rest of his life “Mrrh Dreaming? An angel called me?” he said half awake completely ignoring your tone “Great, amazing even. Vettel, wake up. I’m gonna come to your room in 10 minutes and please cooperate”. Even though you were the same age you sometimes felt like you were babysitting him. Sebastian obeyed you and got dressed. He liked to annoy you a bit but he would be cautious not to cause you too much trouble. You knocked on his door not expecting him to be ready. To your surprise, you were greeted by a fully dressed Sebastian holding his toothbrush. He gestured to you to come in. You have never been to his hotel room so it a bit personal. You stood in the middle of the room not knowing what to do. Your eyes wandered around the room which looked more neat than you expected - no clothes laying around and only his phone and a half-empty water bottle on his nightstand but the bed looked like a mess and you couldn’t judge him, after all he did wake up less than ten minutes before. The bathroom door was opened so you were able to observe him brushing his teeth. It was a thing he did everyday (even more than once!) yet it felt almost intimate. “Okay, let’s go” he said with a big smile once he finished and held the door for you. You were heading for a team meeting that you were also a part of. Your role there was to take notes that were handed to the driver later. Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off you, sitting next to him as you wrote something important that he didn’t even hear. He loved to watch you in this state where you were so focused you barely paid attention to anything else. He loved the way you would tuck your hair behind your ear or play with a pen anytime there was something not worth writing down discussed. When the meeting was over you handed him the paper, he didn’t even look at it but the thing that caught his attention was your dress. It wasn’t revealing or stereotypically sexy - little flowers on a navy background, short sleeves and knee length just suited your personality in his mind. “Nice dress” he said, catching you off guard as you were saying your goodbyes. This weekend Sebastian finished P1 getting closer and closer to his next world champion title.

Next weekend was the last weekend before the summer break. Even though you had lost your hope in terms of your emotions towards Sebastian there was a little part of you that still wished that he would make some kind of a move. It was Saturday night, you had already showered and got yourself ready to bed. You heard a notification and looked at the screen of your phone. “I’m outside your door. Wanna talk to you. XOXO, Seb :)”. He himself didn’t know why he ended the text like that. He was just nervous and high on adrenaline. The message was followed by three gentle knocks on your door. You let Sebastian in and before you could say anything he grabbed your hands and said “I, I I think I love you. For the past few months you had been my sunshine. You make me happier. I adore everything about you, every single little detail. Please make me an even happier man and let me take you out for dinner. And wear that dress you wore last week."

#writers on tumblr #fan fic writing #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel imagines #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #rbr seb

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hwaslayer · 5 months

Text

love you in slow motion (psh) | two.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist ♡

—summary: seonghwa will go through hell and back for you, as long as he can continue to see that smile on your face. because to him, that smile feels like a rainbow after the rain, the warmth of the sun on a winter day. because to him, you’re more than just his bestfriend—you’re love. even though everyone seems to see that except you.

—pairing: park seonghwa x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriends to lovers | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 7.3k

—chapter warning: cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption and intoxication, some drunk crying lol, yacking, lil inkling of jealousy, overthinking and burying feelings, more seonghwa x oc dynamic

—a/n: hi hi! hope you guys enjoy this update! the next two updates will be quite lengthy lol stay tuned! if you need a lil something fun, i posted after hours last weekend!

"You know, Y/N. One day, you should sit down and eat with me. I'll pay for everything. It'll be a nice little date." The old man who is a regular at the restaurant smiles up at you while you switch his empty cup with a newly refilled cup of beer.

"Sure, but you know, my boss is also my cousin. I could always ask her for free food if I wanted it. Wouldn't a date be nicer somewhere else?" You laugh and nod, giving him a wink before walking off. "Mr. Ong asked me out on another date."

"Ou, to our restaurant? How sweet of him. Maybe one day you should actually sit down and eat with him."

"I'm not looking for a sugar daddy, Soyeon."

"He probably just needs company, you weirdo." She laughs. "Aye, might be nice, though. You never know until you try." You roll your eyes. "Unless.."

"Unless, what?"

"Someone else has your heart." Soyeon nudges you behind the counter as you two work on packing some to-go orders.

"Who is someone else?"

"You know, only your bestfriend of 16 years who does everything and anything for you." Soyeon giggles. But, before she can even indulge in her own little fantasy she's trying to project on you, Seonghwa walks through the front door— black, wavy hair messily framing his head. "Speak of the devil." You glare at her and roll her eyes while she continues to giggle loudly next to you.

"I can't fucking believe you."

"What?!" You look up at Seonghwa and give him a nod. "Hwa! Our favorite person ever."

"Hey." He smiles at Soyeon, giving Junseo a wave as he helps Yoongi in the kitchen.

"What're you doing here?"

"Thought I'd pick you up for Sannie's thing." He looks at you.

"Aw, Hwa. I told you I was okay taking bus."

"I was already in the area." He sits at the bar, watching as you continue to pack the remaining orders.

"Want anything?" Soyeon asks, making Hwa shake his head in response.

"I'm good, thanks."

"You should get going so you can meet up with everyone on time." Soyeon nudges you.

"Let me give Mr. Ong his check and direct him your way before I go." You grab a new batch of dried squid with the check, pacing over to Mr. Ong with a huge smile on your face. "My dear, I have some bad news. I'm off for the night. Here's a refill of your dried squid and the check. Just pay with Soyeon at the front, okay?" He frowns and playfully protests.

"You can't go that early! What am I supposed to do when my favorite is gone?!"

"Oh, I know. It's a tragedy. I'm so sorry, Mr. Ong. I'll see you next time!" You give him a sweet smile before walking to the back and hanging up your apron. "Soyeon will take great care of you!"

"I sure will, Mr. Ong. What else do you need?" He continues to playfully protest and partake in cute banter with Soyeon, even as you grab your things and walk out the door with Seonghwa.

"Really got the hots for you. Gonna let him take you out on a date?" Seonghwa adds as he leads the way to his parked car up the street.

"Well, just so you know, he actually did ask me on a date today. For the umpteenth time. He offered to pay for my dinner at the restaurant." You giggle as you step into the passenger's seat of Hwa's car. You always commend Hwa for being so clean and tidy, his car always in pristine condition like a new car would be. You especially love the air freshener that sits on his rear view mirror, Seonghwa always making sure to hang a new one to keep the fragrance alive.

"How sweet of him." He chuckles. "How was work otherwise?"

"Good. Busy." You let out a breath.

"Not too tired to go?"

"Never! I need to see Sannie, are you kidding?"

"I'm just giving you some options." He says, pulling away from the curb to begin the trek over to the bar.

"Thanks, Hwa. I'm perfectly fine and excited." You clap your hands in excitement.

"I think they're all already there."

"They're just waiting for us?"

"Mhm."

"Can't wait. I can't believe he went MIA when he was in Barcelona."

"I mean, we heard from him every now and then, but yeah." Seonghwa licks his lips, eyes focused on the road in front of him. "Guess he really wanted to focus on his program. Plus, I'm sure he was just basking in the new environment. Being in a new country and taking it all in."

"Good for him. I strive to be that way."

"Long way to go." You playfully smack him on the arm, making him give off a small yelp.

"I'm glad he did that, though. You don't normally find yourself in a situation like that all the time." Seonghwa nods.

"Yeah. I agree." You rest your head back against the headrest, giving yourself a moment to rest before the chaos begins. Before you could even get a few seconds of peace, Seonghwa is turning at a corner, instantly pulling into a free spot on the street.

"Mind if we walk a bit? I don't think we'll find anything closer to the bar."

"Sure. If I get wasted, it's on you to carry me." You unbuckle your seatbelt and hop out of the car while Seonghwa follows suit.

"Hell no."

"So what, are you just gonna leave me?"

"Yeah." He says nonchalantly, walking ahead of you.

"You're so mean to me." You pout, making Seonghwa look down at you once you finally catch up to his side.

"Am I? Even though I lose sleep to save you from your shitty ex-boyfriend?"

"Hey, I was just kidding." He laughs. "It's not funny. Are you sick of me?"

"Y/N, please."

"Seonghwa, are you sick of me? Cause if you are, then I am too!" You tug on his arm and he shakes his head.

"We wouldn't be in each other's lives for this long if I was." He scoffs. "Besides, what the hell have I done to make you sick of me?"

"I thought so. Don't get me started." You playfully attempt to smack him on the arm. At this point, the two of you have finally reached the entrance to the bar, Wooyoung being the first to spot you walking over.

"Baby girl and her grumpy bodyguard are here!" He yells, waving you two over. You call out Wooyoung and Hongjoong's name while waving happily, but the individual next to them causes you to pause and almost short-circuit.

Because what do you mean that's Choi San?

You gasp when you finally process that it's San standing next to Wooyoung, his cheeks a rose-tinted color as he fiddles with his hands. He's nervous seeing you for the first time in years, hoping you'd still be the same around him like before.

"Sannie!" You scream, running into San's arms and allowing him to swing you around. When he puts you down, he gets a good look at your face and smiles, sending those butterflies loose in your stomach.

He definitely changed over the years.

It's been about three years since you all graduated, and since you last saw San. Once graduation was over, he felt the need to travel and explore, eventually stumbling into an Art and Architecture program in Barcelona. That's where he spent a majority of his years abroad before coming back home.

To you, your friends, his family.

This.

The familiar.

But the last time you saw San, he was a super sweet, awkward guy who experimented with hair colors and lacked consistency with the gym [even though he said he wanted to be better about a million times]. In reality though, he didn't think too much about his physical appearance and wasn't big on dressing up, was glued to his games and his shiba pillow pet named Shiber— even after graduation.

Now, he stands in front of you— a nice fitting black tee tucked into some dress pants and boots, brow slits, black hair slicked back with strands falling to his face, buff as shit in all the right places. You still smell his cologne lingering on you, on your hair, even as your eyes continue to glaze over his body.

"Wow, you look.. different." You accidentally let out while letting your eyes linger. He chuckles, showing off his deep dimples.

"What is that supposed to mean? I haven't seen you in about three years and that's the first thing you say?" He teases, pulling you into another tight hug, your cheek pressed against his chest while Seonghwa furrows his brows. Because what the fuck is he watching right now? It's so easy to tell when you're feeling some type of way, even if you won't admit it.

"Sorry, I meant that in a good way." You look up at him and playfully tap his chest. "I'm happy you're back home. It's been too long."

"I am, too." Seonghwa clears his throat, breaking the weird, flirty silence between the two of you.

"Can we go inside?" Seonghwa chimes in, looking at anyone for some sort of agreement.

"Okaaaaay!" Wooyoung says, clapping his hands awkwardly. "You didn't have to make it so fucking weird, Mr. Grumpygills." He and Hongjoong snort while they begin to walk into the bar, Hwa's hand coming up to smack Wooyoung on the back of his neck. "Ouch, what the fuck! Joongie laughed too." He whines.

"Shut up."

"I can't wait to hear your stories about Barcelona!" You link your arm with San's as you two trail behind and begin to talk about how he's been lately. Wooyoung, Hongjoong and Seonghwa slide in first before you and San follow suit into the booth.

"Somebody order before he loses his shit watching this." Hongjoong mumbles, eyeing the happy hour menu.

"Tequila? Soju?" Wooyoung yells, already calling the server over. "Both? Fuck it. Seonghwa looks like he needs it anyway."

"I will personally toss your ass out of this bar myself." Seonghwa says under his breath, glaring at Wooyoung before returning his attention to the menu. After a few moments of peace and silence, Hongjoong takes initiative to order for the booth— making sure to include everyone's wants and wishes before thanking the server with a smile and a curt nod.

The soju bottles come out first, and you immediately crack them open to get the party started. You line up all of the shot glasses and start pouring [heavily], passing it onto the boys for them to join you.

"Goodness." Hongjoong says, carefully lifting his shot glass filled to the brim. "Y/N, I love you, but we have all night, you know?"

"Exactly, Joongie! More time to get in more shots!"

"Yeah, that's the spirit babygirl! Don't worry about the grandpas!" Wooyoung yells along, tapping his glass against yours. "Sannie's back!" San shyly laughs, saying a few words along the lines of 'thank you' and 'i missed you guys a lot.' Everyone taps their glasses once more before downing their shots, with you wasting no time to pour the next round.

But the next round becomes the third, the fifth, maybe seventh, tenth? You aren't really sure when it's mainly you, San and Wooyoung taking the shots and requesting bottle after bottle. At some point, the empty bottles are gathered in the middle of the table and Seonghwa is having to play tetris to make the food fit.

"I need to pee. I'll be back."

"Are you good to go by yourself?" Wooyoung questions. "I can stand outside in the hallway until you're done."

"I'm good, I promise!" You slip out of the booth once San has slipped out of the way at the end, taking a moment to get your balance together since the world seems to be spinning a lot more than usual right now.

"Wow, I think I'm drunk." Wooyoung laughs as he plops back down onto the seat.

"Saaaame." San burps a bit before picking at the calamari sitting in front of him. "Y/N's fun. I forgot how fun she is."

"She is." Wooyoung smiles. "That's babygirl."

"Babygirl? Is this a new nickname we're calling her?"

"It's a nickname I'm calling her and Hwa hates it." Wooyoung giggles when he eyes Seonghwa next to him.

"It's just weird."

"Not! You're just mad you can't come up with a cuter nickname for your bestfriend."

"I don't need to." Seonghwa continues to eat, brushing off Wooyoung's drunk teasing.

"Did you guys come from work today?" Hongjoong shifts the topic as he munches on some of the food, hearing the slight annoyance in Seonghwa's tone.

"Yeah. Picked up Y/N on the way over."

"When are Soyeon and Junseo leaving for Japan?"

"In a few days." Wooyoung gasps.

"Does that mean we'll get to see Chacha?!"

"That's right, I never met Charli." San says, cheeks flushed completely to red now that he's 100% drunk.

"She's cute." Seonghwa smiles a bit. "But yeah, Soyeon asked Y/N to take charge in watching Chacha since Yaya's knees have been bothering her." Hongjoong nods.

"She's really cute, dude. She turned three not too long ago." Wooyoung shows San a picture.

"She's so cute." San laughs at the pictures of Charli.

"I'm back!" You announce, the boys at the end slipping out of the booth to let you get back inside. "What're you guys looking at?"

"Chacha." You smile.

"Aw yeah, Charli! You haven't met her. She'd love you." You look at San.

"Can't wait. She's super cute."

"She's stuck to this one the most, though." You point at Seonghwa. "All she does is cry for Hwa." You pour yourself another shot.

"He's no fun, though." Wooyoung pokes fun and pouts at Seonghwa.

"It's cause mentally, you're the same age as Charli. Of course you relate the most."

"Aye." Wooyoung flips him off while laughing. "Fuck you."

"Am I wrong?" Seonghwa smirks.

"Is she just gonna stay with Yaya when she doesn't have preschool? She only goes three days, right?" Hongjoong asks.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure." You reach across to grab some food, getting in Seonghwa's way. "I know Yaya won't mind, but I might just bring her along to the restaurant. She can color or something. Our regulars don't mind keeping her company, too."

"Cute."

"But, she'll be sleeping with me and everything." You say with a slightly full mouth. You feel Seonghwa accidentally nudge you while grabbing a chicken wing, making your drunk ass glare back at him just as you roughly nudge him. He mumbles a quick 'stop' as he nudges you again, making you respond with an even more aggressive nudge that has him moving in his seat. The childish back and forth has Hongjoong confused, eyes peering over the edge of his phone while he watches the interaction mid-text. "You stop." You groan.

"Seriously?" Hongjoong asks, sometimes unsure how you two have dealt with each other for this long.

"He elbowed me first." You drunkly respond, that last shot of soju finally settling in.

"It was an accident. I was trying to grab food." Seonghwa gives you a look. It's gonna be a long night. "Eat more. Drunk ass." Seonghwa drops a wing onto your plate before continuing to pick at his food.

"No." You pout and he furrows his brows.

"Fine, suit yourself. You're gonna be mad you didn't." He watches as you reach over to grab the soju bottle and pour Wooyoung and San another shot.

"Don't be a killjoy, Hwa. Sannie is back, doesn't that mean anything to you?" You whine, your doe-eyes peering up at him as he eats. He doesn't respond, nor does he keep eye contact with you for long because he can't stand it when you look at him like that.

"I'm driving, remember?" He raises a brow.

"Right." You giggle. "I'll take another on your behalf then." You shrug and take one last shot of soju right after San and Wooyoung take their shots.

"She's gonna yack tonight." Hongjoong says while puckering his lips, keeping his eyes glued to his phone.

"Yeah, probably." Seonghwa nonchalantly munches on a mozzarella stick.

"Am! Not!" You direct your response to Hongjoong, but before you can go on and defend yourself even more, a loud scream erupts when the DJ starts to play one of your favorite songs.

"Who wants to dance?!" Wooyoung yells loudly as he stands at the booth, San already ready to make his way to the dance floor. "Babygirl sure does!" San grabs your hand and leads the way, with Wooyoung pushing Hongjoong out of the booth to follow along. "You two coming?" He asks just as Hongjoong and Seonghwa shake their head, leaving him to nod and find you and San on the floor.

"Looks like those two are gonna get extra close again now that he's back for good." Hongjoong takes a turn teasing Seonghwa, knowing the flirty interaction from earlier in the night is still irking the living daylight out of him.

"Mm, maybe." Seonghwa continues to chomp on his food while avoiding eye contact.

"Wow, they're dancing awfully close like that together." Hongjoong lies, watching as Seonghwa's eyes suddenly dart to the dance floor ahead. He tries not to make it obvious but my god, is he hoping that you and San aren't dancing up on each other and are leaving room for the Holy Spirit instead. "See, you're full of shit."

"Dude, fuck off. Why is everyone on my ass about this today?"

"Maybe cause you should do something about it."

"If she wants to date San, then she should go for it. Can't tell her who she can or can't date."

"You're right, by all means. But I'm telling you to be fucking real with yourself." Seonghwa rolls his eyes and shakes his head before looking back out to the dance floor. He's a little irritated that he's had to hear this not once, but twice in one day— though, he knows his boys are only looking out for him and telling him the truth. For some reason, he just can't think about it right now. He refuses to, mainly out of fear. He doesn't want this to consume him, to change things without him even realizing.

He wants you, but he'll have you the way the universe will allow him to have you.

After you, Wooyoung and San are done dancing [a very long hour or so afterwards], the group decides to call it a night shortly after. You're still drunk as hell, and Seonghwa doesn't even know how he's gonna get you home without creating chaos at this time of night. He just hopes he can at least get you to bed in one piece.

At least you're not running off to Mingi.

"I had so much fun!" You giggle. "Choi San." You tap his chest before hugging him. "I'm so glad you're back."

"I am, too."

"We have to hang out more now that you're back. T-to make up for lost—" You hiccup. "—time."

"That sounds good with me." You smile at him before hugging Wooyoung and Hongjoong.

"I mean it!"

"I know, I do too!" He laughs.

"Hwa get home safely, please." Joong says before grabbing at Wooyoung's shirt just as he's about to run to the water fountain nearby. "No, you're not going to the fountain."

"I just wanna make a wish and toss a coin in there! I'm not gonna dive in!" Wooyoung whines while San laughs loudly. "Why are you being like that!" He continues on.

"You too!" Seonghwa calls out, picking up his pace when he realizes you've already started walking off. "Shit." He mumbles to himself.

"Wooooooo!" You skip happily as you and Seonghwa walk down the street to his car. You stumble on your feet a bit that he has to grab your wrist and pull you back towards him before you end up on the busy street where cars are constantly driving up and down.

"Y/N, be careful." He says, almost whining that you can't just stay still next to him.

"Hwa, I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Y-yes!" You giggle and pose as if he's taking a picture, only to lose your balance and stumble on your feet again. You laugh though, and it makes Seonghwa chuckle a bit when he grabs your arm and holds you close.

"Okay, yeah. You're right! Perfectly fine." He lies just so you're satisfied.

"Aw, see. I told you so." You scrunch your nose at him and continue to let him guide you to the car. "Hwa." You tug on his arm.

"Mhm?"

"Sannie is so cute." You pout. "He is so, so cute. I m-mean." You hiccup. "He's always been cute but he's so attractive now. Like prince charming." You say ever so smitten, and it makes Seonghwa wanna silently scream and punch the air right now. "Isn't he?!"

"Sure."

"Do you think he'd like me? We're just friends and he probably just—" You hiccup again. "Just sees me as a friend."

"I think he would."

"You're not just saying that because you're my bestfriend, right? You can tell me the truth. You hate Mingi and you tell me all the time."

"I always tell you the truth." He chuckles. "And I do hate Mingi. That has never changed. He's an asshole and doesn't treat you right."

"Would San treat me right? Would you like him? We've all been friends so you know him." Seonghwa sighs.

"He would. He's a really good guy."

"I knooooow." You pout. "But he wouldn't like me."

"He would."

"Would he actually?"

"Why not? You're beautiful inside and out, smart, funny. Fun to be around. You're a headache at times, but everything about you is worth it." He almost mumbles the last part hoping you wouldn't catch it. You do, but it doesn't bother Seonghwa as much knowing you won't remember shit tomorrow.

"Aw, pichu." You stop and look at him while he unlocks his car and swings the passenger door open for you. "You really mean that?" Your bottom lip looks like it's trembling and Seonghwa can't help but furrow his brows in confusion at you.

"Are you gonna cry?"

"Yeah." Your bottom lip pokes out even more and you actually do start crying.

"That wasn't meant to make you cry, Y/N. I'm just answering your question." He laughs as he wipes your tears, but you continue to cry, even as you drunkly plop onto the passenger's seat.

"It was so sweet, you're always so good to me. Sometimes." You sniff. "Well all the time. I feel like I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

"It's not, or else I wouldn't be here, right?" He looks at you just as he finishes buckling your seatbelt.

"Did you know?" You giggle with glazed, hooded eyes. "I wanted to marry you at some point. I couldn't see anyone else in my life the same way that I saw you and thought I'd end up marrying you." You snort and laugh loudly. "Kinda crazy isn't it? We would never date though so how could that even happen?" Seonghwa can't help but continue to look at you, even though at this point you've shut your eyes and started to lean back against the seat.

"Hm." Seonghwa hums. "I wouldn't say never."

"You're my bestfriend. We can't break up, remember? Ever. If we date, then ultimately we could get tired of each other and break up. A-and hate each other. It'll kill me." You mumble. "Even though I love you, I really, really love you, we promised not to break up or go there."

"Yeah." Seonghwa's heart shatters, the pieces falling to the pits of his stomach.

"Listen, even though I have this crush on Sannie, or I think I do, I don't know—" You giggle again as you tap his arm. "I want you to know that I'll always love you more than anyone or anything. Okay? You're always first!" Your eyes pop open to look at him. "My heart belongs to you and only you, Park Seonghwa!" You laugh and point at him cutely, shutting your eyes again to finally try and sleep this off.

"I love you, too." Seonghwa mutters as he drives off, but you're already sound asleep in the seat— head leaning near the window. He's not sure what to feel right now, and he'll probably never bring this up for your sake. He'll never bring it up though the thought will consume him.

But, did you really mean it? All of it?

He's hoping yes, but what is that gonna do for him? You're drunk. You won't remember this. He won't bring it up. Does this mean it's actually time for him to be honest before it's too late? Before San can sweep you off your feet for good and Seonghwa never gets the chance to tell you how much he truly loves you and adores you?

Before he just has to sit back and bury his feelings for good? All because he decided he couldn't tell you?

He'd hate to say you were the one that got away, especially when a whole new door just opened in front of his eyes. It's just a matter of him taking those steps.

Fuck.

Why do things have to be so complicated?

When he gets to your house, Yaya is sound asleep and all the lights are off. Seonghwa makes sure to open the side door and the door to your suite before coming back to his car to quietly unbuckle your seatbelt and carry you to your bed. You whimper and make a small noise when he lifts you, and he gently shushes you back to sleep— reassuring you that he was putting you to bed and that he'd be around if you needed him.

He lays you down, taking off your shoes and setting them aside before grabbing some clean clothes for you to change into later. He knows you'll probably get up in the middle of the night, especially with how drunk you were. He sets a glass of water near your bed side and places the trash can next to you just in case, before shutting all the curtains and changing into comfier clothes himself [the perks of you wearing his clothes home]. He lays down on your couch and throws the extra blanket over his body, taking a moment to scroll through his phone and text the boys before attempting to get some sleep.

You do end up yacking that night, and it's not as slick as you had liked.

You abruptly woke up, suddenly feeling warm and like you needed some sort of release, feet quickly padding to the bathroom that you didn't notice Seonghwa asleep on your couch. You shut the door to the bathroom and instantly vomit into the bowl— all the alcohol and things you've eaten coming right back up. Seonghwa is already awake, though. He heard you shuffling over to the bathroom and knows exactly what's happening behind the door. He lets out a breath while walking to the bathroom, finding you head first into the toilet. He gently gathers your hair and pulls it back, rubbing your back as you let out another round into the bowl before flushing it away.

"Fuck." You say. "Really do regret not eating more." You spit into the bowl before flushing it once more and stand to wash up.

"Figured." Seonghwa smirks with a little chuckle. "You alright?" You nod as you begin to brush your teeth and get loads of mouthwash ready.

"I think I'll be okay now. I feel a bit better even though I'm kinda dizzy still." You look at him through your bathroom mirror. "Were you here the entire time?" Seonghwa yawns and nods as he leans against the door frame.

"Took your little drunk ass home and stayed here just in case."

"How many hours ago did we get home?"

"Probably like 2 or 3."

"How drunk was I?"

"Drunk enough."

"I didn't say stupid shit, did I?" You spit out the mouth wash and start to make your way outside to change into comfier clothes, still feeling disoriented.

"No, but you did manage to be all up on San." You gasp and cover your mouth, Seonghwa laughing as he plops back down onto your couch.

"The fuck, Seonghwa! Don't lie!" You smack him on the shoulder.

"I'm kidding. Kinda. You were dancing with him and Wooyoung, and you wouldn't stop talking about how cute he was." You start changing in the bathroom with the door open, listening to him go on about that.

"Did he hear?"

"No, you were still being a flirt though."

"Fucking christ." You mumble, hand to your forehead at the dull headache now present post-yack session. "No, I'm not thinking about this now." You lay back down and toss the sheets over your body. "Are you sure you're okay to sleep there?"

"Mhm. Not like I haven't before."

"We've also shared a bed without issues." Seonghwa pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. Can he really share a bed with you the same way he used to? Especially after you just blurted out that your heart belonged to him? Whether it was the truth, or for shits and giggles— he can't just share a bed with you and keep his distance.

You fucking blurted out the L word.

You said you loved him; really, really loved him.

"It's okay. You should rest comfortably. You need it more than I do." You hum as you sink into your sheets and let the warmth envelope you. Seonghwa lets out a quiet sigh before returning his attention to his phone, waiting for the drowsiness to hit him again. His groupchat with the boys still seems to be active, so he scrolls through to catch up on the texts:

[hongjoong]: just got home after dropping these punks off

[hongjoong]: can't believe woo and san convinced me to go to another bar

[hongjoong]: hwa did you and y/n make it home okay?

[wooyoung]: did y/n yack her brains out? cause babygirl was drunk drunk

[san]: you guys, speaking of her

[san]: y/n is so fucking cute, i missed her a lot

[san]: she's really not seeing anyone right? because she's so pretty

[san]: maybe she'll finally give me a chance lol

[hongjoong]: you're drunk. sleep it off? lol

[san]: no i really mean it ☹️ she rarely paid attention to me before..

[hongjoong]: what are you talking about, she was always with us lol you guys always hung out??

[hongjoong]: please go to sleep

[wooyoung]: u better ask bodyguard seonghwa first, he might drop kick that ass

[san]: shit hwa i'm sorry, am i overstepping here??

Seonghwa is annoyed and he's irritated, but he won't say it. And he won't take it out on San because it's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault but Seonghwa's own. He chooses to keep this to himself and not do anything about it, so can he really mope around and sulk? You weren't his to claim. It was free game, and if it's gonna be anyone, he would want it to be San. Seonghwa would ultimately support you and San if it ever went down that route. That way, you wouldn't keep hurting yourself over Song Mingi, too.

Despite adoring you and loving you to bits, all he wants is for you to be genuinely happy. That's the most important thing here.

[seonghwa]: don't listen to wooyoung's dumbass, you don't needa tell me or ask me anything. y/n is her own person

[seonghwa]: and yeah joong we're fine

[seonghwa]: she did throw up but shes asleep now

[seonghwa]: i'm gonna take my exit, tired as hell

He sets his phone aside, turning inwards on the couch to try and catch some shut-eye. Though, he feels like at this point, he's probably not gonna have the best rest. He manages to fall asleep for the next couple of hours, tossing and turning every now and then until he finally decides to just call it quits and start his day. He washes up and tries to make himself look a little more presentable after the long night of tossing and turning. He folds the blankets and sets them aside, happy to see that you're still sound asleep deep under your covers. He grabs his keys and phone, deciding to make a run for some pho to bring back and share with you.

"Seonghwa." Yaya says as she waters her flowers in the garden. "You're here." She smiles.

"Mhm." He gestures towards your suite. "Brought her home after we all went out last night for San."

"Oh, that handsome boy. I'm so happy to hear he's back home." She stands and places her hand on her hip. "Was she okay?"

"Yeah, just drank quite a bit. She's okay though. Promise." Seonghwa smiles sweetly. "I'm gonna grab us some food before she wakes up."

"You're the sweetest boy I know." She cups his cheek.

"Do you need anything while I'm out, Yaya?" He asks as he's about to head out of the backyard's side door.

"No, Soyeon, Junseo and Charli are coming over soon. You're gonna be here, right? Charli would be so sad if she missed you."

"Yeah, I'll be here." He chuckles. "Be back."

With that, Seonghwa heads off to the small Vietnamese restaurant that you, your family and his family have come to love. It's a bit of a drive from your place, but he doesn't mind. The restaurant is owned by a lovely middle-aged couple who has seen you and Seonghwa grow since your high school years. When Seonghwa calls, they know his voice— immediately starting on his order before he could say anything and asking for him to swing by as soon as possible so they can see him.

So, that's what he does.

He sees them as soon as possible, walking into the store with a huge smile on his face while Mr. and Mrs. Dao happily wave him over with a huge bag of food nearby on the counter. He stands near the counter to engage in small talk for a bit, giving them cash with extra tip for all the good food they've packed for him [and you].

"Where is our girl?" Mrs. Dao asks, tying the knot securely on the bag.

"Asleep and hungover." She laughs, handing the bag over. "Gotta make sure she gets some food in her system."

"That's sweet of you." She smiles at him.

"How's your family? How's Y/N and hers?" Mr. Dao asks him, wiping his hand on his apron.

"They're all good. I'll tell them you guys said hello." They nod.

"I packed some spring rolls and extra peanut sauce in there. I know those are her favorite." Mrs. Dao whispers.

"Thank you." Seonghwa winks before waving one last time and walking out of the door.

As promised, when he arrives, Soyeon, Junseo and Charli are over. Seonghwa steps out of his car with the bag of food, a screaming Charli running towards him from down the hallway. She barrels through her own mom and dad to get to him quickly, with Seonghwa having to set the bag on the island counter down to appropriately welcome her into his arms and swing her around.

"Uncle Hwa! Uncle Hwa!" She screams repeatedly.

"Charli, please. You don't have to scream." Soyeon chuckles a bit.

"Chacha." Seonghwa taps the tip of her nose before she giggles and snuggles her head into the crook of his neck. "I missed you. Where have you been?" He asks teasingly.

"Preschool! With friends!"

"Aw, you've been making friends? That's good."

"Hwa, don't let that child lie to you." Soyeon adds. "She's so mean and sassy. There was this kid who wanted to sit next to her and she kicked her foot out so he wouldn't." Junseo laughs.

"Wonder who she gets that attitude from?" Junseo chimes in.

"Can't forget that one time we took her to the park and another kid wanted to play with her, but Chacha held up a stick so they wouldn't get close to her." Seonghwa laughs at Junseo's story before he rubs at Charli's back.

"Aw pea, you can't do that."

"I don't!"

"Mhm. Now she wants to act all sweet and innocent cause you're here." Soyeon crosses her arm and nods at the bag. "Long night for Y/N, I'm assuming."

"You could say that." He continues to hold Charli against his hip while grabbing at the bag. "Hey, let's go wake up Auntie Y/N?" She happily nods as Seonghwa walks off to the suite. As expected, you're still deep under your covers, messy hair the only thing peeking out from under. "Go wake her up, Chacha." He says lowly, putting her down so that she can run to the bed and wake you [rather aggressively].

"Titi Y/N! Titi Y/N! Wakey wakey!" Seonghwa chuckles to himself as he sets the food out on your coffee table, grabbing two bowls for you both.

"Oh my god, Chacha. Please." You groggily say as she bounces on your bed. "How are you even in here right now?"

"Uncle Hwa! He has food so you need to eat now." You would've thought she was grown with that attitude, you think. You chuckle as you rub at your eyes and sit up, giving your niece a proper bear hug and cuddle.

"Thank you, pea." You give her a kiss on the side of the head before you get up to wash up and get yourself ready for the day. Once you've freshen up, you do feel a bit better, though your tummy still feels unsettled so Seonghwa's timing is perfect.

Like always.

You plop next to him on the floor, while Chacha welcomes herself on his criss-crossed lap. He pushes the container of spring rolls and the huge bowl of pho towards you since he's already had his first helping, eyes glued on your TV even though it's just the Secret Life of Pets [probably by Chacha's choosing].

"Thank you, Hwa." His big eyes dart to you before he gives you a small smile and slurps his noodles.

"Course." He feeds some to Chacha when she politely asks for a bite. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, a bit. This will help majorly." You slurp the soup.

"Chacha! Let's go! I told you we were only stopping by for a bit!" Soyeon calls from outside.

"No, mama! I wanna stay with Auntie Y/N and Uncle Hwa." She whines loudly, on the verge of an actual breakdown as she stands in between you two.

"Hey Chacha, remember? We're gonna spend some time together soon while mama and papa are away." You pull her close to you and brush the hair out of her face. "Just me and you. Uncle Hwa too." She nods, a tear falling from her eye as she pouts. Seonghwa has to look away because he's finding that the more he's fixated on this scene, the more he imagines a future like this with you.

And he can't do that to himself.

"Okay." She mumbles with the pout still on her face. You continue to brush her hair back and wipe the straggling tears before standing.

"Say bye to Uncle Hwa." You dust down your clothes as Charli throws her hands around his neck for a tight hug.

"Bye cutiepie." She giggles before taking your hand and meeting her mom and dad outside in the backyard.

"Swear, she's so stuck on Seonghwa." You laugh and hug Junseo.

"Can't blame her."

"Well, good to know you're alive. And not at Mingi's." You roll your eyes.

"Always ruining the moment. Leave." Soyeon sticks her tongue out and waves.

"I'll call you later to talk more about the trip. Gotta prepare!" She says in an excited tone, one where you can't help but laugh a bit and shake your head.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm charging you double this time." You call out before giving one last wave and heading back into your suite. Seonghwa is still seated on the ground, but he's drinking water and has his bowl pushed aside. "You're not gonna eat more?"

"No, go for it. It's mainly yours. Mrs. Dao gave you spring rolls and extra peanut sauce on the house."

"Aw, I love her. She's so sweet." You take a bite into one. "What're you gonna do today?" He shrugs.

"Probably hang out at Joong's or San's." He looks at you. "Why?"

"Can I come?"

"No?"

"Why not?" You whine playfully, knowing you don't actually wanna join their weird little boy party.

"Because all you're gonna do is flirt with San and we have important business to take care of." You snort and laugh loudly.

"No I'm not! And important business? Like fucking yelling at each other during a game of FIFA?"

"No."

"Right." You roll your eyes. "I'm kidding, I don't wanna join in your sad little no girls allowed party."

"Girls are allowed." He smirks. "Just not you."

"You really are such a dick to me sometimes." He laughs, blocking the pillow from hitting his face.

"What, and you aren't a brat to me?"

"I beg to differ."

"If only you knew." He snorts, pinching your cheek. "I'm just joking, you know I am. You're always welcome to come."

"No, I really don't wanna go. Was just teasing." You finish up your food.

"What're you gonna do then?"

"Work at the restaurant and serve some middle-aged men their beer and food while they ogle at me." You joke and he winces.

"Mmkay well, have fun with that." Seonghwa stands and cleans up his trash before wiping your table down thoroughly. "Make sure to invite me to the wedding or else I'll be pissed."

"You're full of shit, Hwa." He groans when he sees a drop of peanut sauce land onto the surface that he's just cleaned. "Oops."

"I swear to God." He sighs, cleaning it again before shaking his head.

"You love me."

"I beg to differ." He mocks you just as he washes his hands and stretches. "Alright, well I'm out. Get some more rest before you head to the restaurant, you look kinda torn up." He ruffles your hair, causing you to smack his hand away and flip him off.

"Fuck you, get out." He chuckles as he heads out the door and leaves you to your peace.

When Seonghwa gets to his place, he manages to tidy up a bit, shower and throw on some fresh clothes before calling Hongjoong to see what the consensus was for the meeting place. Hongjoong ends up telling him that they're all on their way to San's, giving Seonghwa the green light to head over as well.

On his way over, he tries to push his thoughts to the back of his mind. He tries his hardest not to overthink, not to focus too much on all the stuff that's happened.

The stuff you said.

He knows it's probably just you being drunk and babbling all this mess, especially now that you're finding interest in San. But as with everyone says, the drunk mind speaks sober thoughts.

Was there some kind of truth to it?

Did you really see him that way at some point?

Is there a part of you that still feels that way?

"What's wrong with you?" Seonghwa looks at Wooyoung in slight disgust as he steps aside and lets him in.

"Nothing. Just didn't wanna see you first."

"You're an asshole." Wooyoung laughs. "How does Y/N deal with you? She's so sweet and fun, everything you're not—" Hwa smacks him upside the head. "Ow, see!" Wooyoung continues to complain.

"Speaking of her, how's Y/N?" San eagerly asks as he sits next to Hongjoong on the couch, continuing his journey on Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth.

"All of a sudden." Hongjoong snorts.

"She's good. Recovering from her night, I guess. She's going to work soon."

"Mm. Glad she survived."

"What have you guys been up to?" Seonghwa plops onto the beanbag and scrolls through his phone, finally letting out a breath of relief after his night. At least he could relax and chill out here.

"Just hanging out. Trying to figure out what to eat." Hongjoong looks at him. "You eat already?"

"Yeah, I went to grab some pho for Y/N."

"Okay, thanks for the invite."

"You can take care of yourself." Seonghwa snaps back at Wooyoung, making him mock Hwa in return.

"Aye, are you guys down to head to the mall in a bit? We can just grab food there." San asks, eyes still focused on the TV.

"Why do you need to go to the mall?"

"I just wanna buy some new clothes."

"For what?" Hongjoong chuckles.

"Listen, I haven't been around for awhile, okay? I started cleaning out a few things from my closet for donations. Plus, I haven't treated myself in a long time cause I've been so focused on the program and what not."

"Mm okay, so what's the real reason?" Wooyoung asks, chomping onto a banana. Seonghwa glances at San from his seat, taking note of how his cheeks and ears turn red and how he's suddenly getting shy. Nervous, even.

And he's not sure how to feel. He has a feeling he might know exactly where this is going, and he's hoping he's wrong. Maybe overthinking. Jumping to conclusions.

"I definitely wanna take Y/N to dinner and catch up with her. See where this goes.." San trails off, causing Seonghwa to pause mid-text— trying his very hardest not to make it too entirely obvious that his heart has dropped from the statement, equally sad and annoyed by the entire situation [for his own selfish reasons].

Fuck.

♡ taglist: @hwasbabygirl @fairyofhueningkai @chngbnwf @tinyteezer @everyonewooeverywhere @pearbunny @mxnsxngie @starhwahwa @woosmaid @yeosangsbbg @jycas @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

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