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yoonieper · 2 months

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For the Birds— Part 2 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff, a hint of enemies to lovers~

♡ Rated: L for Loathe

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: Y/n and Jk tension, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol), mentions of Jungkook getting reealllyyyy drunk, <— throws up 😬, Jimin is best boy and the bestest friend but my man is ready to throw hands…

♡ Word Count: 11.6k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Honsool by Agust D— see masterlist for full playlist!

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have!

♡ Author’s Note: This chapter is the calm before the storm, but we ain’t slowing down at all for part 3 >:) ~ Y’all can thank Smoke Sprite for this hehehe (it just came out when I wrote this)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Seven months later…

Knowing what you know now, you felt bad that there was ever a phase in your life when you hated Jeon Jungkook. Hate was a strong word, you know that now, and you knew it back then too; but it was always the first word that would pop into your head whenever you’d think about the man.

Ever since your first day at Golden Tech, he made your life working at the company an actual living hell. You loved your job, and you were dedicated to it a hundred percent. You had worked way too hard to get where you were to slack around. You were living your dream— you were still young, working a stable, well-paying job at a high-end tech company, you had great coworkers for the most part… There was nothing to complain about besides the person who supervised your department.

That’s what made it so frustrating.

And to make matters worse, it was probably for the dumbest of reasons. Sure, no one wants coffee spilled on them, you would have gotten a little mad if you were in that situation; but there was no need to make someone’s life miserable because of a simple mistake— for years.

It’s not like you purposefully ran into him. You both had just turned the corner at the same time and bonked into each other. It happens. Some of your coworkers said you should have gone to his office later and begged for his forgiveness, but you thought that was ridiculous because it had just been an accident. A simple, unintentional mischance that could have happened to anyone.

It’s also not like you didn’t try to apologize— you both ran into each other the very next day, and as soon as you saw him, you hurried to catch up to him to tell him how sorry you were; you even offered to pay to get his suit cleaned or replaced. Jeon Jungkook hardly paid you any attention as he said it was fine and walked away with his posse of executives following him. It was strange, but you hoped that it just meant that your first meeting was water under the bridge and things would be fine. If you knew what you were in store for, you probably would have quit right on the spot, but not before you gave him one good, firm slap on your way out.

No, your ambition clouded your vision each time Director Son would give you assignments straight from the boss himself, and it was always mountains above your coworkers. You wanted to believe he saw potential in you, that maybe this was just an initiation into the office and all the newbies were given more work straight from the Head Director himself to showcase their abilities. This was just a test, you kept telling yourself for far too long, and in the end he’s going to see just how capable you are, earning his respect like everyone else did at some point. There weren’t that many people who worked on this floor in comparison to the rest of the building. All the teams were on the smaller side, so you figured this was just a tight-knit department you needed to steadily break your way into.

That’s how you kept yourself cheerful despite how it seemed like every night your workload would have you staying in the office until the wee hours of the morning trying to get everything done.

Everything changed when you weren’t the newest employee in your department anymore. Jungkook was oh so welcoming to your hoobaes and would give them slightly less work before steadily building up to the overwhelming amount everyone was eventually given. It wasn’t great, but it was lightyears ahead of what you experienced during your first few months at the company.

You kept telling yourself that there had to be a reason. You never really spoke to him, there was hardly any opportunity to piss him off; surely there was more of a reason than the incident on your first day.

The next person who joined the department after you did, you slowly began to notice the difference from your initial few months, and at first you had tried to come up with this whole theory in your head that maybe he was flirting with the newest member of the team. She was pretty and a lot of the guys around the office talked about her. You figured your boss might be like them, just another man trying to get into her pants, and for some reason easing her workload was his way of flirting.

That theory quickly died when Taehyung told you he was married despite you both apparently being the same age. Then Hoseok started working at the company and was given the same special treatment as her. Jungkook was seemingly nice and welcoming to everyone else but you.

That’s where your… annoyance, turned into hatred, because at the end of the day, you knew this was all simply because you had ACCIDENTALLY SPILLED COFFEE ALL OVER HIS STUPID, EXPENSIVE ASS SUIT (you checked when you got home how much it would cost you to replace it. If he would have taken you up on your offer, it would have had you living on ramen alone for months) AND HE JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU MISERABLE BECAUSE OF IT.

And maybe, just MAYBE, if that was the only suit he owned, you would have understood his pettiness a little better. You have this one nice dress you splurged on when you found out you’d gotten an interview for Golden Tech, and if someone had messed it up, it would have taken a lot more than an “I’m sorry” for you to fully get over it. But every day your coworkers would talk about how expensive his suits were, all belonging to brand names guys around the office knew about and would rave over. They would stand around sighing about how handsome he looked and how they felt like they needed to pay him just for gazing upon his presence.

It was a little dramatic, and even though Jungkook was never around to hear it, you always thought it was just another way to kiss his ass a little harder, vaguely hoping for the chance he would hear and reward them for their willingness to bend over backwards for him.

But that’s besides the point. One thing was clear from their words: Jungkook had money, and a lot of it, there was absolutely no valid reason for him to be that upset at you.

So you despised him.

You hated Jungkook longer than anyone at the office did. At first, they just seemed confused whenever you would rant your troubles to them— saying things like, “he normally wasn’t like this.” But as months turned to years, Jungkook’s pettiness began spreading to all the employees who worked under him. You couldn’t say he was the best boss in the world when you first started working at the company, but as the days passed, he seemed to get that much more rigid, cold, and reclusive.

It probably hadn’t even been a full year after you started working at Golden Tech, when all the employees joined you in complaining about how annoying he was to work for.

You used to see him all the time walking around the office doing this or that, but later on, you only saw him arrive but never leave. There were many instances in which almost everyone on the floor was given so much work, that you’d all have to stay past your normal hours; way too many times than anything reasonable. All he ever did was work, work, and work, making sure everyone was going above and beyond their job description. It was excessive, so much so that some people in your department ended up leaving because their job was interfering with their personal lives too much.

To make matters worse, everyone was always on edge. There were rumors that some of the people who were fired over the years were let go because they weren’t able to keep up with his outrageous demands. Some of your coworkers said that they left his office in tears because he basically belittled them to the ground, calling them worthless, and many other unspeakable things. It was awful. You never knew if this was actually true or not, no one really did, but it kept everyone on edge to the point that the mysterious Jeon Jungkook was feared amongst most. But it didn’t really matter to you.

You used to think you had a good understanding of him. All your coworkers who were brought into the department before you would always say he was this bright-eyed, sweet, eager to please kid who everyone had high hopes for. Jungkook had never shown any of this during the time since you’d been working here, so you honestly doubted their assurances.

According to you, ‘Jungkook’ and ‘sweet’ couldn’t even exist in the same sentence.

Jeon Jungkook was just a spoiled, rich kid who had no real interest in Golden Tech. He seemed to have no idea how to be a boss, was a sadistic asshole who got off on making people miserable, and was just there, waiting until the CEO position was handed off to him just because of who his daddy was— which you were sure would result in the crash and burn of the whole company.

A few months ago, he literally just didn’t show up to work for a week without any sort of notice. This left your department scrambling because important deadlines were coming up. When Friday rolled around the next week and he still wasn’t back, people kept asking where he was because certain things couldn’t get done without him at the office. He was basically MIA, no one was able to contact him.

Jimin had emailed everyone later that day because the complaints grew too loud. Jungkook apparently had been diagnosed with pneumonia earlier that day and wouldn’t be in for a while. An excuse, for sure, but that didn’t explain where he’d been for the last week. Maybe he was off vacationing in one of the many homes his family owned around the world, while your team was left scrambling during his absence.

But it seemed as though you were the only one who harbored any real hatred for him.

Many girls around the office would still fawn over his handsome face, making you roll your eyes every time, because all they needed was one glance their way and they were squealing like schoolgirls. Was that really all it took for everyone to forget how awful he was? You didn’t get it, not even one bit.

Even your friend was somehow pulled into the allure. When you’d pass by him in meetings, despite Solmi oftentimes being the listening ear to your rants about how impertinent you thought Jeon Jungkook was, she would still sometimes gaze at him sympathetically; it was something everyone around the office occasionally did.

“Something’s just off.”

“He wasn’t like this before, he was such a sweet kid.”

“Maybe it’s just stress?”

They would always have an explanation ready. You never understood why, but you weren’t working there yet when he was still “nice,” and they also weren’t on the receiving end of his pettiness directly.

Someone might laugh at the fact that you were still feeling the effects of your little incident nearly two years after it happened. But no matter how hard you worked, how many times you tried to apologize, nothing you did was ever enough to make him forgive you. So you opted to hate him, and you used that hate to fuel your ambition even further.

In some strange way, Jungkook’s pettiness ended up helping you in the long run. All that hard work you put in made the other executives notice you. Due to your previous experience at another big tech provider, you were quickly promoted to be the manager of one of the finance teams when the position became available.

That just helped open even more doors for you. It was only a few weeks after celebrating your second year at the company (October 6th, 2023, a little over 24 months after you were hired— not that you were bragging or anything), when Director Son informed you about the promotion. The associate director position became available due to her retiring; apparently, even while being relatively new in comparison to the other managers and on the younger side, they still believed you would be the best one to take over the position.

Of course you took it. You were only twenty-six and now the Associate Director of the financial team for the Seoul division at a trillion won tech company that was led by the CEO’s son. Again, not like you were bragging, but your resume was insane.

As nice as the high was, this… this is when everything changed.

See, some might call you strange that you hated someone so deeply when you barely even knew them. You honestly had no clue about him, you hardly ever saw the man besides during the very occasional meetings; but most of the time, he only met up with Director Son and the old associate director to get updates. You could probably use your fingers to count how many times you both have spoken to each other. Any time you’d normally communicate would only be over email, and it didn’t help how much he was in his office. The only things you really knew about Jungkook were that you both were the same age, that he was the CEO’s son, and supposedly, that he was married.

That's what most people knew about him, and of course there were probably tabloids out there if you ever wanted to learn more, but you never found the need to know anything else other than the basics.

That’s why when Jungkook called you into his office after your promotion, you were in for a rude awakening on the fact that you never really know what goes on behind closed doors.

The meeting itself wasn’t that eventful. Jungkook just wanted to elaborate more on your new role as an associate director and inform you about your new duties on the projects your team was currently working on. However, you ended up feeling differently than expected.

You’d spent the whole morning preparing for your first meeting with him. You had coached yourself the day before on how to approach it— you weren’t planning to be rude, but maybe a bit passive-aggressive; just enough to set a boundary to be taken seriously and establish yourself as a professional, not just some pushover.

You’d picked out your best ‘bad bitch’ outfit the night before— not for him— but to give yourself the extra confidence you needed to stand up to the person who’s been the bane of your existence for the past two years. You wore a tight, black dress with gold buttons detailing all the way down the front. It was probably the nicest thing in your closet besides the dress you bought for your interview. You paired it off with matching gold accessories and black stilettos with a cute gold heel. You couldn’t tell someone how long you spent working on your hair and makeup this morning trying to get that last level of perfection.

It was all worth it though. When you arrived at the office that day, you held your head high as you made your way to your desk. A smile was plastered on your face as your heels clicked through the halls. Your coworkers were staring and whispering while you walked past them, the attention making your heart swell, because at the end of the day, you knew they were only saying good things.

It gave you a nice confidence boost, but as the time ticked away, it was obvious to your friends you weren’t as composed as you wanted them to believe. As the time of the meeting approached, Taehyung and Solmi tried their best to calm you down as you rehearsed what you thought would happen later.

“Grrr, I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I hereby bestow you this mountain load of paperwork.” Solmi said dramatically, as she shook a piece of paper in front of your face before setting it down gracefully on your desk.

You cleared your throat. “I’ll take care of these, Director Jeon. And as the new associate director, I hope we can establish a more compassionate relationship.” When you finished, you eagerly looked up at your two friends.

“Yeah, she’s going to get eaten alive.” Taehyung sighed, concern filled his eyes the longer he stared at you. Solmi shared the same worried look.

“Calm down guys, I think I got this.” You smiled as you turned to your computer and saw the time. There was only an hour left.

“Y/n, we’ll wait for you as close as we can. Scream if he tries to eat you.” Solmi said as she rested her hand on your shoulder.

You looked over at Taehyung, who seemed to grow more worried by the second.

“I’ll be fine. If anything, he should be more scared that I’ll eat him first.” You laughed a little too hard, but seeing the look on Solmi’s face made you realize that might not have been the best way to phrase it.

No matter the amount of smiles or jokes you shared with your friends, nothing could stop the anxiety from creeping in, it just made you even more terrified of what might happen later. You were worried if you’d even walk out of it still having a job (let’s just say you had a lot you wanted to say to him, but one wrong move would be enough for you to derail from your well-rehearsed script and finally spill that can of worms full of deep seeded anger).

When the time finally arrived, Secretary Yu told you Director Jeon was in a meeting and that you could have a seat in his office for the time being. You bowed at her words, but on your way in you couldn’t help but roll your eyes because of course he was late. You were so busy cursing him out in your head, it didn’t even register that you were in his office for the first time until the door closed behind you.

You were shocked to find you weren’t greeted with a demon’s lair like what you had expected. His office was relatively modern, with lots of black furniture— it was sleek and expensive like everything he owned. There were a couple of plants sitting around that added a nice splice of greenery. His office also had a big window with a nice view to the right that overlooked the city. However, what you were most surprised to find were all the family photos sprinkled around the place.

There were some that sat on his desk but your eyes were immediately drawn to the three big pictures on the wall beside you as you came in.

The one that sat right in the middle you were sure was a family photo of the Jeon family. You recognized the CEO sitting on a chair that almost looked like a throne. There was also a small, slightly older, beautiful woman who was dazzlingly dressed sitting on a stool next to him, holding his hand, and two boys stood behind them. One you instantly recognized as Jungkook, only a little younger— maybe college-aged, and standing right behind him was a man who looked like he could have been his twin. He stood maybe a few centimeters taller and shared the same face, except he had a few more of his mom’s features, his sharp eyes for example. You had to assume it was the brother you heard your coworkers talk about from time to time. On the other hand, Jungkook was nearly the spitting image of the CEO, only decades younger.

What you paid the most attention to was their smiles. Everyone in the picture looked so happy, all big smiles that seemed to resemble the CEO’s. It felt almost strange seeing how happy Jungkook looked in the picture. You honestly thought he was incapable of smiling.

It was like a whole different guy was in the picture.

When you looked at the photo that sat on the right, closest to where you stood, you were greeted by a very cinematic shot of Jungkook and who you could only assume was his wife on their wedding day. He had lifted her by her waist and they were lovingly staring into each other’s eyes, again with big smiles plastered on their faces. Jungkook didn’t look too much older than he did in the first picture, and his wife also couldn’t have been much younger than him. It made you wonder how long they had been together. As far as you knew, he was married even before you started working for Golden Tech. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-four, but just based on the picture, he definitely looked younger than that.

They must have really loved each other… You couldn’t imagine being married now, let alone years ago.

But everyone had been right, she really was pretty. How was he married? You couldn’t help but wonder how his wife was able to put up with his pretentious ass. You could barely deal with him and you hardly knew the man.

You felt for her in that moment.

Furthest from you was a picture you could barely see, but it looked like another picture from their wedding day. Jungkook and his wife in her gorgeous dress were sitting down on a fancy ottoman and a bunch of other people stood around them. Some you could recognize from the Jeon family portrait, so you just assumed all the others must be his wife’s family.

Again, seeing how happy he was in the picture was a little uncanny. There was no way that was the same man who made your life at work so miserable.

Looking at the photos only became more unsettling when the door was bursting open and you were suddenly faced with the actual, present-day Jeon Jungkook. Your eyes immediately snapped onto his, your mind went blank as you tried to process the fact that he was standing there right in front of you. He was stuck in place, he seemed just as surprised to see you in the way his startled expression turned into shock and his wide eyes peered over you. You barely registered the fact that Jimin was standing behind him, too busy trying to calm yourself from a near heart attack.

It was suddenly so obvious why Jungkook didn’t seem like the same person in the pictures you had just seen. He looked different. It wasn’t only the fact that he looked a little older, but his eyes…

He looked so tired, like he hadn’t slept well in months. The dark circles around his eyes deprived him of that same cheery persona he put on for the camera. And maybe this was just you reading into it too much, but you couldn’t help but think he also just seemed… dismal? It was strange, but if you weren’t trying to be on your best behavior, you would have advised him to take a nap before starting your meeting.

If that wasn’t enough, he was also visibly thinner. Like you could still see a bit of definition as he moved underneath his expensive suit jacket, but his slimmer frame didn’t seem to help and only made him look even more tired.

Your coworkers might have been right; maybe it really was the stress. How hadn’t you ever noticed this before? Had he always looked like this but you just never realized?

“Uh, sorry we’re late. We were stuck in a meeting that went on longer than expected.” Jimin suddenly said, finally breaking the silence and making you snap out of your daze.

It was only then that you realized you had practically been staring down Jungkook. To be fair, you had never seen him this up close before, at least not close enough to actually look at him.

You quickly bowed.

“I’m sorry! Secretary Yu told me to wait. I—” You panicked, realizing how strange this might look that you were just standing here right in front of the door.

Your eyes immediately locked onto Jungkook’s waiting for the annoyance to hit his features, any sign to point to the fact that you gave him another reason to hate you, but instead he just seemed dazed. Your eyes tried to follow his gaze wondering what he was staring at, and you were left a little stunned to see him looking over you.

Did he forget you were coming today? What was going on? You glanced down, worried something may have gotten on your dress earlier during lunch and he was about to criticize you for your unprofessionalism, but you were just left confused when you didn’t notice anything, and the silence continued for far too long.

“Ummm…” Jimin looked over at Jungkook when he still hadn’t said anything yet.

You shrugged, just as perplexed as he was.

When Jungkook still didn’t say anything, Jimin, like the angel he was, eventually took it upon himself to reassure you it was fine and that you had just startled them.

You bowed and apologized once again, your cheeks burned under the weight of their gaze, but Jimin just smiled and told you yet again it was fine. His comforting words and smile eased your beating heart a little more as he ushered you over to Jungkook’s desk. Not wanting to make things any more awkward than they already were, you quickly made your way over to one of the cushiony chairs that sat across from the desk. The whole time you felt their eyes nearly burn a hole in your skull, your skin warmed with each step you took, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you messed this up already.

You figured Jimin must have finally managed to get Jungkook to snap out of whatever held his attention so deeply, he eventually came back into view and sat in his own fancy office chair in front of you, and Jimin chose to stand right beside him.

Jungkook awkwardly coughed once everyone got settled trying to fill the silence in the room, maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you swear you saw his cheeks start dusting pink as he looked at you.

This could not be the same demon you’ve worked with for two years. Jungkook could hardly meet your eyes, seemingly trying to look everywhere else but you. He looked visibly flustered and… shy? Who was this man, and what did he do with the Jungkook you thought you knew?

“I’m so sorry, I—… um, sorry we were late. It’s nice to see you Y/n.” He commented softly with a smile. No, there was no way this was the same guy.

After Jimin took a moment to congratulate you on your promotion (he told you to visit his office later for a surprise), the meeting carried on rather uneventfully in regard to your conversation. Jungkook didn’t eat you, nor did you ever need to whip out any of your passive-aggressive responses that you’d practiced. To be honest, you were only halfway paying attention to everything that was being discussed.

Your brain was far more interested in just observing him, picking apart all the little details you never had the chance to notice in the past:

He had a mole that sat just underneath his lower lip, and anytime he’d be thinking about what to say next for longer than normal, he’d bite into the flesh and then you could see the little dot right there on full display. He also had a scar on his cheek— you barely noticed it, but when the light hit his face at just the right angle, you could see the indention. Or how come you never realized that he had a slight lisp when he talked? It was slight, only making an appearance if he started rambling for a little too long; you wondered how you’d never noticed it before.

It was quite obvious early on into the meeting that Jungkook was not this scary, evil monster who hid away in his spooky cave. Jungkook would speak, there were moments when Jimin would jump in to help, they easily bounced off of each other, and in between the business talk, they would sometimes joke around with one another. You hated to admit it, but you found them a little cute as you watched them interact.

However, you still noticed that when Jungkook laughed, his smile never looked like the one in any of the pictures that sat behind you. His eyes wouldn’t crinkle, his top lip wouldn’t almost disappear, and that dimple that was on his left cheek never came into view— yes, he had dimples— multiple sets apparently that you had also never noticed.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was faking it, but the one other thing you knew about Jungkook was that he and Jimin had been friends for a long time. Jimin had mentioned to you briefly during the few occasions you’ve talked that he’s known Jungkook since the younger was in elementary school; and it was clear during the meeting that they were close.

The more you looked at him, the more you grew concerned. He definitely seemed… off. It was the same feeling that you’d gotten all those years ago about your friend in high school. His eyes, you just couldn’t get over the look in his eyes. They held the same emptiness that your friend Mi-Sun’s did all those years ago. His hair had grown to almost completely shield his gaze, but you still noticed.

In the past, his hair would normally be shorter and slicked back with a fresh undercut always on display. It was a few months ago when he seemingly started to grow it out. When he walked in, it was obvious he had been running his hands through it in the way the dark strands were pushed back. Yet as the meeting continued, more and more strands would fall into his face, and he would go back to hiding his sad gaze behind his hair. It almost reminded you of the same look he had that day you spilled coffee all over his suit— even then he seemed tired and sad, but now it was so much more blatant.

It was almost immediately that your harbored hatred for Jeon Jungkook turned into genuine concern. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who’d have everyone on the floor staying overtime almost every single day.

That didn’t necessarily excuse how petty he acted over the years, you didn’t forget, but it did make you feel bad about how you let your emotions get the best of you.

The fact that Jungkook was the same age as you and managed everyone that worked on your floor— being associate director of your division’s financial team already seemed daunting— but you couldn’t even fathom the stress that came with his position.

“Y/n? Did you get all that?” Jimin asked, breaking you out of your daze.

“Yes-yes! I’m sorry.” You stammered, trying your best to recollect yourself.

“Just wanted to make sure you got everything. We covered a lot.” He laughed, but you were too focused on Jungkook shying away from your gaze— his face was definitely a little redder than before. You tried your best to ignore the way your heart ached at the sight.

You had to get out of here.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to email you if I have any questions.” You bowed your head slightly at them.

If things couldn’t get any weirder, when you looked back up at him, you noticed Jungkook was staring at you— again with those same sad eyes. It was on the tip of your tongue to invite him out for dinner, or to tell him that maybe it would be best to take the day off or something— anything to possibly help get back the cheeriness he had in the pictures behind you. But you knew you would be overstepping a boundary, and since you were so new to your position, you felt it was best to not take a chance; so, after a few more awkward goodbyes, you left his office.

“I have to get this done, he has to see that I’m—“ The door shut behind you before you could hear the rest.

Instantly you looked around for your friends, and like they promised, you found them awkwardly standing not too far away from Secretary Yu’s desk trying not to make it obvious they were waiting for you. As soon as they saw you, you knew they wanted to ask how it went, but instead you grabbed Tae by the hand and quickly walked down the hall, ignoring Solmi’s confused remarks as you sped past her.

“Taehyung.” You said alarmingly as you both walked.

“What happened? Did he start yelling at you or something?” Taehyung questioned very seriously, looking back the way you both had just come from. Apparently, you didn’t respond fast enough because he ended up stopping you both in your tracks. You looked over at him and could see the way his expression had shifted, his face was etched with concern now, and the underlying anger was not hard to pick up on.

“Y/n, what happened?” He asked far more sternly, grabbing you by the shoulder so you’d look at him. You couldn’t help but glanced down, noticing the way his other hand tightened into a fist.

“What? No— Just… What do you know about Director Jeon?” You quickly followed up with.

You could see the gears turning in his head.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been here longer than me. What do you know about him?” You asked again, your gaze turned to worry as you looked back toward where Jungkook’s office was.

Taehyung was noticeably confused. “Why, what happened?”

You sighed. “Nothing, I mean, we just talked but… I don’t know, he just seemed so… sad. It was weird.”

“Sad?”

“You should have seen him Tae… it was like… I don’t know, he looked so tired.” You were honestly a bit worried. One minute you hated his entire existence, the next you found yourself seriously concerned for his well-being.

It would be easier to hate him if he didn’t look like a kicked puppy.

The tension quickly faded from Taehyung’s features, he let his hand rest back down at his side and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I was wondering if you knew anything.” You questioned again when he hadn’t said anything, but Taehyung eventually shook his head.

“I don’t have much to say, he’s always been a pretty quiet guy. I know nothing outside of what he does at the company, and that he’s married to that supermodel. Jimin would probably know, they hang out all the time.”

You nodded while his words processed in your head. Taehyung was probably right, Jimin was the best person to talk to. You wanted to think there was a chance at the explanation being simple, like maybe he was having a rough day or something, but that didn’t stop you from being worried.

You had a feeling it wasn’t that straightforward.

“Yah, you had me scared for a second.” Taehyung breathed out a shaky laugh.

“Why? You didn’t think I could handle myself in there?” You chuckled lightly, recalling how serious he got.

“No, you’re perfectly capable. It was me I was worried about. I thought I was going to have to put my job and freedom on the line.” The way he said it carried that same comical tone, but there was something very serious as well in its implications. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he meant by that.

You looked at him wide-eyed for a second, a bit at a loss knowing he’d be willing to go that far for you. Even in the worst-case scenario, you wouldn’t consider losing your job, and certainly not going to jail, over something like that.

Taehyung returned your gaze and smiled at you, warm and reassuring as always, before you both finally started to hear the hurried clicking of Solmi’s heels making it around the corner.

“Yah! Why did you guys just leave me?!”

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin's role at the office made his life more complicated than it needed to be. Besides being Jungkook’s friend, his job also had him working a lot more closely with the younger in comparison to the other executives. He was the associate director to Jungkook’s position, and pretty much handled a lot of the grunt work. He would always step up to his friend’s role whenever Jungkook wasn’t in the building, and he was already in line to take over the next time Jungkook was promoted. Jimin was in great standing in contrast to others around his age, and he would always be eternally grateful to Jungkook and his family for giving him this opportunity. However, balancing the crazy workload Jungkook always asked of him— everyone in the department really, plus just trying his best to be there for his friend, was a task he sometimes questioned if he could manage.

Because of the way he bounced between being by Jungkook’s side and working with managers in the office, he was oftentimes caught in the middle of the drama and heard all the gossip and rumors that would go around. People in the department would complain, and there was some part of him that sympathized with their woes because his friend would really go off the deep end at times with his demands, but there was the other side who was still Jungkook’s friend. Jimin had to deal with Jungkook deteriorating right before his eyes, while simultaneously being subjected to hearing his colleagues badmouthing his friend, who to him, was clearly suffering. Jimin couldn’t even say anything. He was watching his best friend fall apart, and having people say the worst things about him, all without them knowing what he was going through, made it difficult to stand idly by and listen.

It wasn’t even like he could tell them because even he didn’t truly know what was going on.

Jimin had cherished the day Jungkook began opening up to him after he started to notice something was wrong. Just as Jungkook seemed to get more comfortable in sharing the issues he was dealing with in his marriage, at the beginning of the year was when those walls came back up thicker, higher, and practically impenetrable.

Jimin had hoped that it meant things were getting better between him and Yuri, but it was painfully obvious Jungkook was just getting worse and worse as the days went on. You weren’t the only one noticing how much he changed. Jimin was by his side the entire time as he saw firsthand how life continued to drain out of him as the days went by.

Jimin had seriously tried his best to be there for him, but no matter what, Jungkook continued pushing him away. He would brush off any of his concerns and drown himself— and everyone else around him— with work.

It was hard to watch.

Jimin could never forget what happened a few weeks ago. He came to work early on Jungkook’s birthday to drop off a gift with the hope to surprise him later when he’d come in, but instead was nearly scared shitless once he opened the door and turned on the lights to find Jungkook passed out at his desk. There was a bottle of vodka and enough empty cans of beer covering the surface to almost shield him from view and encase him in completely.

Jimin had known Jungkook was going to stay overtime the day before, he’d even seen the beer he brought in, but he brushed it off thinking he was simply restocking the mini fridge in his office. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to share a drink together after hours, a good beer was always the perfect remedy to wash away their stress. However, it was obvious from the overturned box that he’d drunk the entire pack all by himself, plus the vodka he had no idea Jungkook even had in here.

That was not it. As Jimin looked around his office, he found another box had been opened, and he wondered if it had fallen off his desk because of the way the cans were sprawled across the floor (definitely less than the twelve that came in the pack). As Jimin steadily got closer, he noticed one of the cans was tipped over beside him, the sticky liquid pooling on his desk, like he’d passed out with the drink still in his hand.

It was a concerning sight to say the least, and nearly gave him a heart attack as he hurriedly rushed over to make sure his friend was ok (alive). His mind raced with the worst thoughts possible as he tried to shake him awake.

Jimin had planned the whole day out to give his friend the best 26th birthday in the history of birthdays. What was supposed to be the start of a celebration turned into a nightmare when Jungkook didn’t immediately wake up. It was honestly a miracle he did. It took some time; it was like the universe itself had slowed down as he waited for something, anything. Tears had welled up in his eyes, Jimin had been so close to calling 119, when in a fit of desperation he slapped Jungkook’s back a little too hard. That was apparently enough to finally get him to stir awake.

“Owwwwww…” Jungkook moaned, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to reach back and rub the spot where it ached.

Jimin had a lot to say, most of which he figured went in one ear and out the other since Jungkook was clearly still drunk. He hated nagging, especially when his friend was out of it like that, but he really had scared him. Jimin pulled him into a hug as he went on and on about how stupid he was.

“Why you soooooo loud?” Jungkook whined, pulling out of Jimin’s arms and laying back down on his desk.

“Because— Jungkook, have you not been listening? Do you know how much you drank?!” Jimin nearly yelled pointing to all the cans and the vodka bottle that practically covered the desk.

“Shhhhh! I ne— have wake up for work later… I’m trying to sleep…” Jimin found it hard to understand him because of the way his words slurred together, like somehow he could understand that.

“Didn’t efen dink much.” Jungkook mumbled, as if it was any other Friday, and Jimin was being overdramatic.

As much as he could have kept the battle going, Jimin made the executive decision that there was no way in hell Jungkook would be able to work today, let alone ride along for his birthday surprise. He was better off trying to sleep this off.

Somehow Jimin was able to get him downstairs, but by the time Jimin was sitting him down in the passenger seat of his car, his arms ached, and his whole body screamed in fatigue. He was stuck carrying Jungkook’s entire weight all the way from his office to the elevators, where he needed to wait for the elevator to go up twenty stories, before going back down those same twenty stories, and then truck through the entire parking garage because his dumbass thought it was best to park in his usual spot, all the way at the far end.

Jimin wanted to be annoyed, he wanted this to just be a one-time thing that they both could laugh about in the future, but there was definitely something wrong. Something was wrong all the time, but there were too many signs for this situation to be passed off as just a “rough night.”

This wasn’t his first time carrying Jungkook. Jimin liked to occasionally pick him up to emphasize “just because you’re taller, doesn’t mean I can’t still swing you around,” mainly to show off his efforts in the gym— but Jimin could tell over the months, years even, that his friend had grown lighter. With the way he needed to carry him, his arm wrapped around his waist, he could really tell just how much thinner he’d gotten.

And there still was the question of what made him drink so much…

Jimin’s head was swirling with worry as he got in his car, wondering what he should do from here. He’d considered taking Jungkook to the hospital, he had no idea how much he really drank, but the fact he was able to make it downstairs he figured meant he was ok enough to sleep this off, hopefully.

He sighed and turned over to Jungkook who was already passed out beside him. Jimin reached over to open his suit jacket and fished out the phone in the pocket he’d placed it in. Somehow the facial recognition still worked with Jungkook’s passed-out face, and Jimin was able to pull up his contact list.

Yuri 💞

Jimin rolled his eyes seeing the hearts next to her name knowing how fake that emoji was.

“It’s like we’re a real couple now…” Jungkook had nervously chuckled that day he changed Yuri’s contact in his phone— merely hours before his engagement party.

How Jungkook hadn’t ended up changing it was beyond him.

Yuri 🖕🏻was more appropriate in his opinion.

Jimin took a deep breath before he hit the call button. Now, Jimin loved using the word hate when it came to Yuri. While he wasn’t aware of all the details of their relationship, Jimin just knew deep down she was the reason for Jungkook’s rapid decline— maybe it’d been her fault he drank so much.

It took a couple of rings, but Jimin was thoroughly surprised she actually picked up.

“What—“

“Yuri, it's Jimin.” He was quick to interrupt her.

There was silence over the line for a while, like she was trying to remember who that was.

“Jungkook’s friend… coworker—“

“I know that— what— why do you have his phone?” For a split second, he believed she sounded a little concerned.

“I thought you would know— how did you not notice he didn’t come home last night?” Jimin was seething the more he thought about the possibility that this was somehow connected to Yuri, but he tried his best to keep himself calm for Jungkook’s sake.

“He told me he was working late.” She put it so plainly.

“And you just let him? You do realize today’s his birthday, right?” Jimin just rolled his eyes as the silence continued on the other line. At the moment, the pieces seemed to click in his head. Was it the fact Yuri clearly forgot his birthday the reason Jungkook practically drowned himself in alcohol?

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t, but maybe it was, and that possibility was enough for him. Jimin had to take a couple of deep breaths to stop himself from screaming at her, but once again, he calmed himself down. Today was not the day for this.

“Anyway, Jungkook got really— really drunk last night, and I’m worried about leaving him alone. If you’re not already there, could you meet me at your apartment and watch over him? I would do it myself but I have work in an hour so—“

“Can’t you just put him on the bed or something? I don’t think he needs a babysitter—“

“Yuri, I don’t think you understand, he’s really—“ But before he could finish, Jimin suddenly turned to see Jungkook hurriedly pushing open the door. He couldn’t even question him before it became obvious that the nausea, which had made the whole journey downstairs that much harder, had finally taken its toll.

Jimin set the phone down and reached over to rub his back lightly. He tried his best to ignore the unpleasant sounds and the dry heaving that went on for a while; his heart ached seeing his friend’s pitiful condition. Things only got worse when it finally seemed to be the end of it, the sounds of soft whimpers started to fill the growing silence.

“Hyung… I’m so sorry.” Jimin hardly caught it, Jungkook was so quiet and his voice was a little hoarse.

“Jungkook—“

Jungkook sat up and hesitantly faced him. His eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears that flowed harder the longer he looked at him.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.” Jungkook just sobbed.

“It’s fine, please don’t—“

“This is so fucking embarrassing, I’m so sorry, this is so pathetic, I—I—“

“Jungkook, you're not pathetic,” Jimin interjected, trying his best to keep strong.

“Fucking threw up in the parking lot— can’t get much worse.” Jungkook choked out.

“It could be, don’t say that because this could get so much worse.” Jimin had a few ideas, mainly in the fact that he could have been stuck riding in an ambulance worried for his friend’s life. “By the way, are you ok? I was going to take you home, but we can stop by the hospital to make sure you’re ok if you need it.”

Jungkook lazily shook his head. “Just take me back to my office, I have to work—“

It was then that Jimin started the car. “Don’t even think about it, I’m taking you home.” Jimin buckled the both of them in and started making his way out of the garage.

“Can— hyung, can you go slower?” Jungkook mumbled, leaning back in his seat.

“Do you still feel sick?” Jimin grimaced as he briefly worried about his car’s freshly cleaned interior.

“Yeah,” just the mention of the word seemed to make him nauseous all over again. “My head hurts too—“ They finally made it out of the garage, the morning sun quickly filled the car. Like a vampire in disguise, Jungkook groaned and tried to duck away from the rays floating in.

“I’ll be gentle— luckily it’s early enough so there isn’t too much traffic, we should make it to your place soon.”

There was silence for a little while. In the moment, Jimin remembered the fact he’d never hung up the phone with Yuri, but one quick glance down, and he saw she’d left. All he could do was hope she’d be there.

“Hyung, I feel like so much shit.” Jungkook slurred. He’d closed his eyes, hoping it might help ease the nausea or how much his head pounded with every bump or slight turn in the road, but it wasn’t helping at all.

“Mmm I bet, get ready for the worst hangover of your life.” Jimin tried to joke, but all he got was a choked sob in return.

“It’s what I fucking deserve.” Jungkook blubbered as he looked out the window, tears quickly filled his eyes before they started falling uncontrollably. “Can’t make her happy, just want to make her happy! Hyung she’s so miserable, and it’s all my fault!” The breakdown had come out of nowhere, but it had Jungkook in its grasp and had no plans of letting him go.

Jimin had no idea what to do. They’ve had so many talks about it at this point, but Jungkook never went into enough detail for him to ever be able to really help him. Even while drunk, Jungkook seemed to keep the details about what was going through his head locked away, never to see the light of day.

“Jungkook…” Jimin reached over and rested a hand on his thigh.

“Are you ok?” The question lingered in the air in between Jungkook’s sobs. The more Jimin’s question seemed to dawn on him, the more distraught he became.

“And I mean this seriously, like clearly you’re not fine, but are you… fine?” Jimin had hoped he’d answer. A simple ‘no’ would have been a step in the right direction, but he said nothing, letting the tears stream down his face suffice for an actual answer.

“Because if something is wrong, you know you can talk to me, right? Anything, it could be anything that’s on your mind.” Jimin looked over at his friend as they approached a red light, taking a moment to realize just how pitiful he looked. His suit jacket had been thrown in the backseat, his tie was barely hanging on, his face was red and covered with tears, and Jimin had to stop every two seconds to help try and ease the nausea.

“I can’t lie, I’m really worried about you. If something is bothering you, please know you can tell me anything.” Jimin was trying not to get emotional, but he’d never seen Jungkook like this in all the years he’d known him. Ever since she came into his life, everything had gone to shit. He knew all of this was her fault and Jungkook’s decline was too painful to watch.

Jimin was worried, so fucking worried actually, that he feared every time he’d leave his friend’s side. While all of this could just be ruled as some random drunken breakdown, Jimin knew it was a small window into what was going on inside his friend’s tormented mind.

“Please say you’d tell me Jungkook…” Jimin gently shook his leg, desperately wanting the reassurance that if things were as bad as he feared, that he’d say something.

When Jungkook’s sobs stopped, Jimin hoped he’d give him an answer, but instead, he watched as Jungkook leaned up, and grabbed onto the dashboard while attempting deep, steady breaths.

“Hyung…” His voice was quiet yet pained.

“Yes?” All Jimin wanted to know was that he’d say something.

“Pull—“ A couple more deep breaths “Please pull over…”

It took a second for the words to register. “Wha— why—“

“N-Now!” Jungkook tried to emphasize as he quickly had to put his hand over his mouth.

Luckily for the both of them, there was an opening on the street up ahead. Before Jimin could question it any further, Jungkook was already stumbling out of the car and toward the trash can that was on the street corner.

Jimin never got that reassurance he needed, not that day, or any other day afterward. He wondered if Jungkook had heard him at all.

When Jungkook got back, he was crying all over again about how pathetic he was, the cycle starting anew. But it only took about two minutes before Jungkook passed out once again, and he was asleep until Jimin was shaking him awake when they’d finally made it to his apartment.

The journey upstairs was just as difficult as going downstairs at Golden Tech. Jungkook had sobered up a little, but Jimin, once again, was stuck carrying him to the elevator. His exhaustion, the nausea, his head, everything really, made it hard for Jungkook to stand. Slowly but surely, they finally made it up to his door.

Jimin had hoped when they arrived that Yuri would be there. He knew, despite his own feelings, how happy it would have made Jungkook at that moment, and it was the least she could do after everything. He wanted to think maybe, just maybe, she’d show up, especially after Jimin had to remind her that it was her husband’s birthday. He hated the fact that he had let a glimmer of hope spark. Deep down he wished that his conversation with her earlier was all just an act to not spoil Jungkook of a surprise waiting for him back at their apartment. Even if that wasn’t the case, he still hoped that she would at least be there. But after Jimin punched in the code and opened the door, the apartment was just as empty as it normally was.

He couldn’t even say that he wasn’t surprised.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jungkook had somehow found the strength to wiggle out of Jimin’s grasp. Free from his hold, Jimin watched as Jungkook started clumsily wrangling out of his suit jacket Jimin had put back on him earlier. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight and went over to grab Jungkook’s phone out of the jacket pocket.

Yuri had texted since they came up.

‘Sorry, won’t be back ‘till late. Busy.’ It was short, blunt, and to the point.

Yuri wasn’t coming.

Jimin sighed. He didn’t know why he was expecting anything different; she couldn’t even be by his side when he had pneumonia. Maybe it was for the best, he didn’t trust Yuri alone with his friend anyway.

“Hyuuuunnggggg…” Jungkook whined. Jimin finally looked up and noticed he’d stripped all the way down to his boxers.

“Is Yuri coming?” He asked as he flopped onto the couch.

“You know, the bed would be better…” Jimin chuckled lightly before walking over to him. He grabbed the throw that was draped over the couch and fluffed it over him.

“Too far…” He grumbled into the leather.

Mmm, of course.

“Hyung— Yuri…?”

“She said she’s busy.” Jimin tried to maintain a soft smile as he saw the disappointment settle in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Of course she is…” Jimin hated the way he saw Jungkook’s lip quiver.

“It’s ok, I’ll stay by your side.” Work was out of the picture, Jimin knew better than to leave him alone when he was like this. “You know, I had this whole plan today to celebrate your birthday.” Jimin suddenly remembered he’d left Jungkook’s present back in his office, he forgot to grab it on his way out. “We can bring the celebration here though. I could start it off by making you breakfast—“

Jimin turned around to see Jungkook already fast asleep.

Not much happened that day, Jungkook didn’t wake up until the sun was setting. In that time Jimin had made a quick trip back to the office, both to tell everyone Jungkook was sick and wouldn’t be at work today, and to grab that present he had left.

Jimin went the extra mile with it, hoping the right gift would help put that pep back in his friend’s step. He was honestly very worried about the present as he prepared it, he couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook would like it as much as he hoped. What he didn’t expect was Jungkook’s teary reaction through his bleary eyes (despite the fact that he’d slept for the last 12 hours), as he peeled back the wrapping paper.

“You used to play all the time back when we were in high school and college, maybe getting back into it would be good for you.” Jimin smiled.

Sitting on Jungkook’s lap was the box of a new, sleek, black, custom-made electric guitar— the exact one Jungkook had told Jimin so many years ago that he wanted to buy when he started earning a good amount of money.

“This… hyung what I would give to play this, but… Yuri hates it when I’m loud, I don’t think she’ll let me play it.” Despite his words, Jungkook continued to stare at the picture over the box, letting his hand lightly run over it.

Jimin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the mention of that woman, tired of her always coming in the way of everything. “Well fuck her! Don’t let her stop you, she’s not even here right now. Please~ I wanted to see you play before I leave.” Jimin should have been a little more cautious with his words considering who he was talking to, but at the end of the day, he meant every word.

Fuck her!

Jungkook’s face dropped, looking less than pleased.

“Hyung, thank you so much for staying here with me today— and for the present, but maybe it’s best if you leave.” Jungkook suddenly sounded very serious as he spoke.

“Huh? What, why?” Jimin was confused at the sudden change in mood.

“I know how you feel about Yuri, but I don’t appreciate you speaking about my wife like that—“

“But Jungkook, you can’t possibly—“

“Leave hyung! Go— please just go!” Jungkook demanded, looking more pissed than ever.

In the silence that followed, this was when Jimin began getting angry. The longer he stared into Jungkook’s eyes, the more he couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Jungkook be choosing someone who hardly paid him any attention over the person he’s been able to count on and has known since he was in elementary school?

“I can’t believe you’re fucking kicking me out and sticking up for the bitch who couldn’t even be here with you on your birthday.” Jimin angrily mumbled as he got up to put on his shoes. It was a low blow, Jimin could have phrased it a little differently since he knew he was hitting a sensitive topic. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook, but that was the only thing he regretted.

The silence that settled in the room was painful.

“I swear if you’re not out the door in five fucking seconds, I will end you!” Jungkook said slowly through gritted teeth, giving Jimin a glare that he was sure he would never forget in his life. He’d never seen Jungkook so mad, never thought it was possible to make him that mad, and it was over Yuri?

Five seconds was too long before he heard Jungkook’s hurried footsteps behind him. It was probably only because of the haze of the hangover still weighing Jungkook down, that Jimin was able to grab his shoes, quickly slam the door behind him, and walk away unscathed.

Things just weren’t the same after that.

How could they be?

It’s like Jungkook was pushing him away, and as much as Jimin tried his fucking best to be there for him, he was only human and feelings got in the way sometimes. He regretted leaving that day, with how things played out, anything could’ve happened considering the way Jungkook had been acting lately.

Jimin seriously thought pushing Jungkook to seek professional help would be enough to bring his best friend back— he’d been ecstatic when Jungkook told him he was finally going to therapy, but it seemed that after the first session, he never went back… at least if he did, Jimin didn’t know about it.

Things were bad, probably worse if he knew the whole story. But that— that is exactly the reason why it pissed him off so much every time his coworkers would complain about Jungkook. How could they not see? It was plain as day that something wasn’t right.

That’s why when you came to his office later for your surprise (he gave you a celebratory bottle of expensive champagne) and asked him about Jungkook, it was like a breath of fresh air.

“Director Park, I hope this isn’t weird to ask, but—”

“Did you have a question?” He interrupted, fully expecting this to be about your new position.

“No— well, yes, but everything is clear from the meeting. It’s just—” You played with the bottle in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“Director Jeon— is he… is he okay?” You seemed genuinely concerned, leaving Jimin too stunned to speak for a second.

See, Jimin didn’t hate you, but he knew— everyone who worked on this floor knew— that you didn’t like Jungkook, at all. Your reasons were a little understandable, considering the way his friend had treated you since you started working here.

Jungkook had no reason to target you because of a mistake you made years ago. Even Jimin had no idea why he was being so petty about it, considering he was normally an easygoing guy. He knew Jungkook didn’t hate you, but he could never pinpoint why he treats you like that.

“Jimin?” You questioned when he continued to stare at you.

“Yeah, I’m fine… um, you’re asking about Jungkook?”

You nodded. “I don’t know during the meeting… sorry, I might be overstepping, but something just seemed off.”

Jimin continued to stare at you, a little unsure of what to say. He wanted so badly to tell you— honestly, he was just happy you noticed— but…

Even he didn’t know what was going on anymore.

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin never gave you a straight answer. He dodged it entirely actually, not at all calming your nerves about your strange meeting.

You went home that day with Jungkook on your mind, but not like how he usually was— with you cursing his entire bloodline. No, instead you found yourself wondering what he was doing.

Did he eat today?

Was he sleeping alright?

Anything to write off today as just a bad day, but as the days turned into weeks in your new position, your concern never lightened up. The more time you spent working closer to him, the more you began seeing all the signs you did back then in high school with Mi-Sun.

It was like it was happening all over again. It took an attempt for you to fully realize what was happening the last time, but you saw the signs back then just like you did now. Something was wrong, very wrong actually, but every time you met one-on-one, you never found it in yourself to ask him directly how he was doing.

Do you still hate Jeon Jungkook? No, and you hate to say you ever did. Would you whine every time he gave you 15 billion tasks to do in one day? Yes, you did every time. But it was clear he must be dealing with a lot, so you just started keeping your complaints to yourself.

Now nearly a month into getting your new position, you had enough things on your plate to deal with other than whining 24/7 about your workload.

Today you had to lead a meeting in Director Son’s absence. The drastic drop in temperature had been enough to due him in and he’s been out sick all week. It was at the worst time too, everything was ridiculously hectic because of the holiday season coming up.

Without Director Son here, you were basically the acting director. You’ve been scrambling with all the shit that was being piled into your lap, but you tried to keep a brave face.

This presentation nearly made you collapse. It was a big meeting, and Director Son only gave you a few days to prepare after he let you know he was probably going to be out for a while. But you smashed it, because that’s what you always do. You couldn’t help but smile when you earned a round of applause after you concluded the last slide, and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as everyone slowly started getting up and leaving the meeting room.

It was finally over…

You went to go pack up your stuff when you suddenly felt someone tap your shoulder. Lo and behold it was him, Head Director Jeon.

“Y/n.” Jungkook seemed nervous as he nodded over at you.

You bowed. “Hope you enjoyed my presentation Director Jeon…” You quickly panicked, worried this conversation was going to be about that.

“Yes, you did great— you always do…” He smiled at you. You were a sucker for compliments, but in the moment, it completely went over your head.

“No, actually this is about tomorrow. Usually, I’d do this with Director Son, but since he’s not here, I was hoping you’d be able to fill in for him.” He seemed even more nervous.

“That’s my job.” You put it matter-of-factly.

“Right, yeah, you’re right.” He chuckled nervously. “Um, tomorrow, as you know, things are pretty crazy these days… I have all these documents to go over for the budget presentation we have coming up for next quarter. Would you be available to stay late with me and go through all the details?”

Oh?

“Of course.” You said not putting much thought into it. You stay late most days anyway.

For some reason, he seemed to tense up even more.

“Good… um… make sure to get a good night's rest; tomorrow might be a long day.” He pointed out.

“Hmm?”

He already knew what you were going to ask. “This could be an all-night thing… sorry to put you in this position— Director Son and I—“

“It’s fine sir. I’ll be there.” You said through gritted teeth, trying your best to force a smile. You didn’t want to be here all night; you were already exhausted as it is and now there was no chance you could agree to any of Solmi’s Halloween plans.

The holiday was tomorrow, and she had wanted to whisk you and Taehyung away to Itaewon for a night full of bar hopping to all the places that were hosting parties in the area. She had pleaded for you to consider it even though you already told her how busy you were. You had honestly been thinking about it, it could have been a night out to de-stress from all that was on your plate, but there goes that opportunity. At least if you didn’t go, you could have been home catching up on sleep, relaxing, anything really but be here. And with Jeon Jungkook?

You regretted saying yes so fast.

“Ok— great… um, again, that was a great presentation. See you tomorrow.” It was an awkward goodbye, but that’s how most of your conversations went, so you didn’t dwell on it.

As the door closed behind him, you took a second to breathe, and enjoy the silence of the meeting room. In that peace, you realized a detail your brain completely skipped over.

You were working overtime with Jungkook. You were going to be alone… together.

Suddenly you felt yourself getting a little nervous.

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#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #for the birds #bts #jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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consuming-karma · 1 year

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THE LOST BOYS HAND HCS.

buwan’s notes: I’d like to thank @britany1997 for fueling my wild obsession with the lost boys and their hands, and also for agreeing with me that Paul’s the KING of fingering. Thanks. 🤭

episode summary: talking about the lost boys and their sexy hands. yes I’m crazy.

content warnings: hand kinks, some hcs are for fem/masc audiences (will specify so). , spit kink, different other kinks that will take forever to mention, NSFW, me honestly talking about how my favourite necklaces is Dwayne’s hands, yeah..

PAUL

starting off strong with Paul, Brit this one is for you mainly (and me, but I’m on the side).

I think paul has very veiny and bruised hands. I think that the blonde has the type to manage to get bruises or cuts unintentionally and never notice it!

his fingernails aren’t long, and his fingers are somewhat long and he has HUGE palms.

like marko, he has the tendency to chew on his nails, maybe even bite the skin around it.

Paul’s hands is also littered with rings, I can’t begin to explain to you how many rings he has in his own little corner of the cave, even the other guys come to borrow from him time to time!

If I didn’t know any better I would’ve definitely done the “your hands are way bigger than mine 🥺” technique at him, it’s funnier knowing that Paul’s probably the type to fall for it.

Paul also has a tendency to need to grab, he will hold onto anything. His preference is your chest though, he loves how they cup perfectly into his.

he’s very touchy-feely, he doesn’t seem to understand how good it feels to just have you in his hands or arms, whether that’s just you hooking your pinky around his or letting Paul place his hand on your inner thigh, he just loves it.

If I could say anything, I’d say Paul gets off more on touching you rather than you touching him.

maybe even gets higher than he does smoking weed.

He’s like one of those cats who paw at you whenever they’re comfortable. He grabs at thighs, at upper arms, at the tummy. He loves all of you and want all of you to fit in his hands.

Paul’s hands are somewhat rough, I see Paul to be the type to suck at hand care and only really uses hand sanitizer and maybe lotion. (For you know what ;) ).

Brit and I are firm believers that he is the KING of fingering/oral.

Paul thrives, survives on pleasing his mate/partner.

His hands can grip and squeeze and please.

I like to think that Paul loves the way your thighs pool from out his palms, and how it doesn’t fit in both of his hands.

For my feminine readers out there, Paul would love to graze the tips of his fingers on your stretch marks and whisper sweet little dirty nothings into your ears as his free hand just rubs you on your hip dips. :)

Masc readers, never forgetting about y’all, his thick hands definitely wrap perfectly around your cock, and he definitely looks up at you prettily with those baby blues. His painted nails and rings make beautiful accessories for your dick <3.

Paul unintentionally fingers you to the point of overstimulation though, he’s got the attention span of a puppy and will not notice, no matter how many times you cum onto his hands.

his hands look amazing covered in cum and saliva ;)

spit on his hands and tell him to fuck his fist, his only lube being your saliva..

“Paul!” You whined, grabbing at his hands as they gripped firmly at your thighs. His face sported a grin as your squirmed in his hold, a worried look on your face.

It’s been hours since his fingers worked their magic inside of your hole, he worked your walls until they couldn’t anymore and it seemed like Paul would never stop.

A surprised moan left your lips as Paul grazed over a sensitive spot, Paul seemed to feel like the devil in disguise as he no longer grazed your sweet spot, more so, started abusing it.

You couldn’t stop your thighs from shaking and kicking as the overstimulation Paul gave you shook you to your core. You can see the black and white spots appear in your vision as you feel yourself get closer and closer to another high.

It felt like forever before Paul finally plunged his fingers deep into your hole one last time, letting you ride his digits until you came down from his high, twitching from the overstimulation.

After a short while, Paul gently pulled his fingers away, a string of cum connecting his digits to your hole before Paul brought it up to his lips and gently sucked.

His free hand held your hips in place, as you hazily looked up at him with confusion and a red face.

“Has anybody told you how divine you taste, babe?”

(visuals) :

MARKO

Marko’s hands are less veined than the rest of the boys, turning when he was around eighteen had him keep the smooth skin of a baby.

The curly-head’s hands are definitely more daintier than the rest of the boys, most of them have rough maybe thick hands, but Marko’s are thin and has little veins.

Although Marko covers it up with his fingerless gloves, I’d like to think that his hands are very smooth to the touch, his handcare is 10/10.

like Paul, his nails aren’t super long, I’d say he likes to keep them a nice length, but bites them off on the way.

His thumb has a mark where he keeps biting it with his teeth, unlike the other boys who might have bruises or cuts, he has a noticeable bump on his thumb and a small mark on his nail.

type of guy to be short but his hands are still bigger than yours. He always talks about his hands fits yours so well and how he loves seeing the size difference of both your palms together.

type of guy to also tell you that your body fits perfectly into his hands, his hands mold perfectly with your hips and thighs.

most of the time Marko does dirty talk you, but you can never reply back because most of his dirty talk’s in Italian, and you’re busy trying to keep Marko’s wandering hands from going under your shirt and latching onto your chest.

If Paul’s the most touchy with his hands, Marko takes second place with how touchy he is.

Marko has the tendency to play with his hands when anxious or anticipating something. He rubs his hands or massages his palms, looking off to wherever he’s expecting something.

Marko’s fingers don’t stretch you as much as the rest of the boys do, although the boys might be a bit more chunkier, Marko’s hands are small enough that they stretch you out to where it doesn’t hurt.

Marko’s hand game is strong, Paul gets cramps, but Marko doesn’t, I mean, the boy paints, he’s probably got some cool ass tricks in his sleeves to keep him from losing energy during your bedroom deeds.

Marko likes to listen to your sounds and your body, whenever he’s fingering you, he doesn’t mind the squealing or the squelching, he knows he’s the one who made you sound like that, and if anything, he’s more proud of it.

if I were to rate his fingering skills? 7/10. He’s got some learning to do but most of the time he’ll probably have you screaming his name from his fingers.

Fem!readers, this man eats pussy like he’s starved! Not the point though, because his hands are where it’s at, he knows how to work you up, and loves to tease, the tips of his fingers padded perfectly on top of your clit and he loves to go fast. No mercy. So while he’s enjoying a nice meal, you’re enjoying yourself.

Masc!readers, exactly the same!! This guy sucks cock like an animal and honestly it would take everything to get this guy off your dick. Since Marko’s hands are daintier, his hands definitely look amazing wrapped around you.

Marko would never admit it but, he loves when you stain his fingerless gloves with your cum <3, he’s the real artsy type.

He probably fingers you in public as well, no care in the world.

his favourite past time is watching your hands wrap around his cock, while his hands are bound together to keep him from being impatient <3

tie his pretty hands up and gag him, he likes the challenge!

Marko held you by the hands, his palms pressing them firmly to your back, your stomach to the bed and your back facing him. the curly-headed boy had you pinned to your nest in the cave.

Marko’s growls sounded in your ear as you felt your stomach flutter at his sounds. You could see him from your peripheral vision, his curls falling in front of his eyes as he pinned you.

You could feel the pads of his fingers gently running across the small of your back, almost..appreciating it in a sense, his hands felt soft, yet firm.

Finally, his hands slipped down to your ass, squeezing it in his palms as you squirmed from his firm grip. A small mantra of Marko’s name left your lips, unable to look back to see your boyfriend’s face.

You could feel from the air that he was enjoying this, enjoying you.

Marko, with the strength, turned you around, you laid on your back, bare for his hands to just wander.

His hands travelled from your ass back to your hips, up your stomach, and ended right on your chest. If it wasn’t so lewd, you would’ve thought Marko was giving you a massage.

Marko’s touch teased you relentlessly, you just wanted to yell out for him to touch you, use you. You wanted it so desperately, and Marko knew.

He grinned at your display of biting your lips and the small twitches his touch gave you.

“See, baby? You fit perfectly in the palms of my hands.”

(visuals) :

DAVID

David’s hands are very thick, probably the most thickest out of the boys.

His hands are the best for holding, gripping.

David’s hands could probably cover your whole ass if I know anything.

David’s very careful about his handcare. I think that David has the softest hands out of the boys, he takes good care of them, especially if he wears gloves to cover them.

Though I also think he’s got some blisters, years of driving motorcycles do that to you.

He’s got pretty long fingernails, they’re long enough to have the annoyance of cleaning them every time something gets under his nails.

He brings a cuticle around, I just can’t lie. I think that he’s the type of guy to be like those girls who’s always filing their nails.

probably pinches the hardest as well, he likes to do it when you’re not paying attention and actually causes bruises 😭.

watching him work without his gloves is so attractive, his hands moving as he writes in a notebook or diary, or when he’s playing with a cigar, it’s very, very, attractive.

The pads of his fingers is very soft, not tough like Dwayne’s and Paul’s.

Barely any rings litters his hands and the ones he has are very basic, no intricate designs, most of his complicated rings actually tore through a set of his gloves and he never worn flashy rings ever since.

Leather is his best friend, whether that’d be gloves or the handles of his motorcycle, or in this case, a leash to your collar.

He’s very into oral fixation, he loves shoving his fingers down your throat, likes the ability of being able to choke you out without pulling out his cock to do so.

He’ll also make you suck his digits clean after a long night of teasingly fingering you.

He loves seeing his hands around your throat too, he’s a sadistic little shit, if he doesn’t get off, you don’t either.

I think he’s got the thickest fingers out of the boys, he’s the one who stretches you out the most and sometimes it feels good, but it’s when he teased, that’s when you don’t like it.

Fingering skills are, annoyingly, at a 9/10. It would’ve been a ten if he didn’t tease.

Would NEVER ever paint his nails, like the boys always seem to have black nail polish and Marko’s and Paul’s are always chipped, but David’s is clean, polished, in good health.

His hands wrapped around your waist and dipping into your waistband, the tips of his fingers on the hand of your underwear.

Pulls you to him by hooking his pointer finger into your belt loops and into his chest.

Let him choke you out!!! He’ll be gentle!! Only because you’re human though.

Thumb on your lips always!! His thumbs make good work of finishing you!!!

A small shush left the platinum blonde as you tried to stop your whines, you moved uncomfortably on his motorbike’s seat, the leather being soaked in your wetness.

“careful, dear, you’re making a mess.” David mused, his lips shaped in a taunting smirk as his hands dipped deeper into your core.

You bit your lip to hold in your squeals, teased and tired. David could watch your expressions for the rest of his life.

he’ll never get tired of the way you cling onto his coat, your fingernails digging into its seams, as if any longer you’d have ripped his coat apart from the overwhelming feeling of his fingers pleasing you.

You tried to stay silent, feeling people’s gazes on you as you sat uncomfortable on David’s lap, his coat covered the indecent display of his digits inches deep inside you.

You were desperate for release, searching for your other three boyfriend to earn some mercy from David.

Your eyes looked around the boardwalk, eyes flicking from every similar person who looked similar to your boys.

Suddenly a chuckle and loud voices were heard, you saw your boys from afar. Hopeful, you decided to move off of David’s fingers when his free hand reached up to stop you by the throat.

A light squeeze to your throat, making you gulp and your core pulse with need.

“Eyes on me, dear. Don’t look at anybody else, especially when I’m this deep inside of you.”

(visuals) :

DWAYNE

THE BIGGEST OF THE BOYS!

DEFINITELY has the most veins out of the boys.

Can’t lie, Brit has listened to me want to lick his veins.

He’s got the lengthiest fingers out of them too. He’s the best when it comes to fingering.

His fingernails are nicely trimmed, it’s also littered with rings, his left hand is always bare though since he uses that hand primarily to hold laddie’s and he’s scared that Laddie might get cut from his rings.

Dwayne somewhat cares about his hands, he uses David’s shit though, lotion, Vaseline, serum, cream.

David doesn’t know how he runs out of hand cream so fast too.

Dwayne does carry his own hand sanitizer, but most of it goes to laddie and Paul.

Dwayne doesn’t have really flashy rings either, he doesn’t like the way it clicks together and it puts him in a very uncomfortable situation because he likes to massage his hands when awkward.

He’s big everywhere, his height, his heart, his cock, his hands. It’s crazy.

Prob can carry you in one hand, one arm under your ass and your arms around his neck.

Although he likes fingering, he prefers playing with your clit/cock even more, he’s surprisingly has the best stamina over all the guys but he likes to keep it secret.

A good surprise, I’d say.

I see him as the type to be more sensual than sexual. His hands are best at love-making than rough fucking.

besides Marko, he’s one of the best massuage therapists out there.

His hands somehow find every tense crack in your bones and somehow is able to perform chiropractic procedures like aligning your neck properly or fixing a locked jaw.

He owns a ton of essential oils, his hands always seem to smell of lavender or peppermint, and sometimes he does use it on you.

The boys have learnt that if you both smell like the same thing then you both most likely fucked teehee.

Dwayne’s hands are best for pulling hair!!!

Watch him tangle his digits into your hair and pull gently, maybe whenever you’re sucking him off, or when he needs a little handlebar during sex.

he likes to cover your mouth with his huge hands whenever you’re having a quickie in public, he loves the idea of keeping you quiet with just his hands over your mouth as he dicks you down in a shady alleyway.

He also looks amazing covering his lips with his hands, his veins are more prominent and they run down all the way to his upper arm.

I wouldn’t blame you if you told me you wanted to follow that long vein to the end ;)

his hands definitely flex and his veins show while he grips your headboard to death.

Dwayne’s actor, Billy rips panties with one hand, it’s no surprise Dwayne wouldn’t either.

And god he looks amazing doing so..

Hold his hands while you ride him, he wants to see you be so dependent on him and his hands, he’ll make you feel good, don’t worry! Just relax and let him do the work.

Leaves hand prints all over your body from how strong he grips!

In the end, let Dwayne wash your hair for you! He gives a good massage and he’ll leave you feeling relaxed then ever.

“Yeah…there..” you sighed in content, your stomach to your bed as a deep rumble of a chuckle was heard. “Feel good, sweetheart?” You nodded hazily, your hands gripping onto the sheets with pleasure.

“God Dwayne..when were you going to tell me you were this good?..” you groaned, feeling his huge hands run themselves down your back almost passionately. You could feel his fingers gently scan your back for any tense spots to fix.

A hearty chuckle was only heard from your boyfriend as he gently pushed his thumb into a tense spot in your back, a small crack leaving it as you let out a surprise yelp, before relaxing once again.

“Fuck..” you cursed out, feeling Dwayne’s hands reach up onto your shoulder and dig themselves into your shoulder blade. A whine left your lips as another pop was heard from your body.

You’ve never been so relaxed and turned on at this point, Dwayne feels amused by your reactions, sighing and whining in content and relaxation. He lives for the pleasure he gives you.

His hands massaged one of his favourite scented oils into your skin, hydrating it, and making you smell absolutely delicious to him, he couldn’t help but place a few kisses at the back of your neck as you felt like falling asleep under Dwayne’s touch.

After a while of a slow, long, amazing massage from Dwayne, the dark-haired man deemed you relaxed enough before he gently pulled you by the thighs, resting in between them as you yelped in surprise.

“Think you’re finished? Daddy needs his release too.”

(visuals) :

#✦ buwan consumes.#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #tlb #poly lost boys #poly lost boys x reader #tlb paul #paul tlb #✦ dwayne’s karma.#dwayne tlb #marko tlb #david tlb #✦ marko’s karma.#✦ paul’s karma.#✦ david’s karma.

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dollyhao · 11 months

Note

omg what about loser ellie and bully reader but reader is jealous this time

cw: car sex, face riding, semi public sex, desperate ellie

toni’s note: y’all this might be my favorite one <3

ellie is on the soccer team and wins yet another game for her team. you were sitting in the stands the whole game quietly cheering her on. (can’t do it out loud or it might get to her head)

when the game was over, you climbed down the bleachers to go wait by the car for ellie so y’all could go home. but when 15 minutes past, you go see wtf is taking her so long. then you see them.

a group of girls all fawning over ellie with one in specific rubbing her hands on your kinda-girlfriend’s arm. ellie seems to be paying the bitch a lot of attention too.

you are glaring daggers at ellie hoping she can feel them before walking over and pushing through this ridiculous crowd. didn’t everyone already know ellie was taken? didn’t ellie know that?

when ellie’s sees you approaching her she gives you a sweet genuine smile. the kinda smile she reserved only for you, you pluck the girls hand off ellie as she began basically rubbing herself on ellie. you make sure ellie can see that your not happy with her, crossing your arms and walking away without a word.

ellie is apologizing to the girls telling them she has to go home with her girlfriend. ellie jogs to catch up with you, reaching to wrap her arm around your shoulder but you toss her arm off. continuing your walk to the car.

“what i do now?” she says stoping you from opening the passenger side door. you quirk a brow at her, “should i let some girls rub up against me and see how you feel?” ellie looks at you confused.

ellie is so oblivious that she didn’t even realize all those girls wanted to fuck her. what a fucking loser. “they were just complimenting me on winning the game.” she rubs the back of her neck kinda confused.

“doesn’t fucking matter ellie! you don’t let girls rub on you when you have a gf!” you say pushing at her chest.

ellie breaks out into a grin, “your officially my gf?” you roll your eyes, “i don’t know ellie. i don’t want a gf who lets other girls rub on them.” ellie grabs your hand, opening the door to the back seat, crawling in and pulling you with her.

ellie pulls you into a feverish kiss, like kissing you is the only thing keeping her alive. “ellie, what are you-ah~“ you start to say before your interrupted by ellie biting and sucking on your neck.

“sit on my face,” ellie says grabbing your hips trying to get you to straddle her. “i only want you, your the only one for me. let me prove it!” ellie lays across the backseat when you straddle her waist. “hmm… say please,” you say smirking. you wasn’t just gonna give her what she wanted that easily.

“please please princess. i need you,” ellie is trying to beckon you further up her body with a pleading look on her face. how could you say no to such perfect begging. you slide your jeans and underwear off, hovering over ellie’s face. ellie doesn’t wait, wrapping her arms around your thighs pulling you down on her face.

ellie delves in, eating you out like it’s her right. “ooo ellie f-fuck.” you moan out hands flat on the car window. ellie moves her chin up and down trying to lick your every crevice, doing this makes her nose bump against you clit over and over. you place you palm on ellie’s forehead trying to get away from her purposeful licks and sucks.

ellie shakes her head at you, not helping your situation at all. “els. so so good..” you say grabbing the handles above your head with both hands for dear life. your riding ellie’s face at this point, bouncing slightly, moving your hips in circles. “i’m so close els” your jaw goes slack, head thrown back, chanting ellie’s name like a prayer.

your vision goes white as you cum, riding out your orgasm on ellie’s face, hips still moving. you lift your self off ellie’s face looking down and seeing her pussy drunk, like she just ate you out solely for her benefit.

“i love you,” says ellie with a lazy smile. you don’t say it back, but kiss her hard enough that she knows you feel the same.

#i ate this #wlw #lesbian #the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut

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sufferingsokkatash · 6 months

Text

THAT famous zukka hug in the atla north and south comic : an essay you did not need, by me.

i was thinking about how, in writing, there should be no accidents or coincidences in how and why something is described, or the detail the writer chooses to use. for example, zuko tapping his hand on his desk would be used to show that he is impatient or anxious about something.

so THEN i decided to apply this to the zukka hug, because why not be delulu about these things idk.

first of all, here are the zukka hug pages for context:

disclaimer: i don’t really know how the fandom feels about the comics. personally i like them, so i will proceed with that bias in mind. also please take this with the humour that is intended, it’s more fun that way.

i go down a sabre tooth moose lion hole below the cut.

this whole scene to me is largely what we all love about atla - humour and good characterisation combined with serious subject matter. king kuei and bosco are the comic relief and oblivious party in the face of quite a complicated issue, as zuko himself acknowledges. this humour then extends to kuei offering zuko the chance to join in on his hug with bosco, which zuko politely refuses. obviously, there is the clear issue of zuko being afraid of being eaten by a bear, but we’ll pretend that ernest hemingway is grading our papers here, okay.

it is a very deliberate writing choice and contrast to have zuko refuse hugs from one person/animal and then immediately and happily accept one from sokka. (see also: sokka running excitedly with a big grin on his face at the bottom of page 17 to greet them, naming zuko first, but remembering that he is a good ambassador to the swt and using their proper titles despite his excitement. more silliness mixed with seriousness. see also, also: HE RAAAAAN!) zuko may be touch averse and not a huggy person, but screw that when it’s sokka who’s offering the hug.

remember there are no accidents in good writing. kuei happily says: hello friends! to which, in both that panel and the next, he is clearly ignored. sokka and zuko are so absorbed in hugging each other that sokka neglects his duties in welcoming them both properly. zuko : 2 swt ambassador role: 0. also ignored is the fact that kuei brought his bear, which would normally be subject to some kind of smartass comment from our boomerang boi, even if he knows he’s obsessed with his pet from the ba sing se episodes.

this could be an actual mistake, but sokka ran towards zuko, who was standing in front of kuei. but in the hug panel, sokka is between them. that means kuei walked all the way around them trying to get their attention, and it still didn’t work. sokka, nor zuko, say a further word to kuei. like exactly how much tunnel vision is there in this, my goddddd.

bosco is protecting kuei and sokka is protecting zuko. could be why they mirrored them and their positions in the hug panel, so not a mistake. a swt person says: protecting foreigners, sokka?! but that is exactly what he does by ignoring the protesters and telling zuko not to worry about them. despite wanting to do his duty to everyone sokka puts zuko first, basically, and doesn’t care about what they all think of him. that’s kind of huge for sokka.

yes, hakoda is injured at this time and yes he’s proud of sokka, but surely as chief he would have gone to meet the earth king and firelord? why did the writers go to so much effort making sure that sokka was there to meet zuko and have them hugging take up a third of an entire page when printing and space in the comics is such a consideration? it is clearly important, y’all.

their faces when they see each other. sokka can’t stop grinning and zuko closes his eyes in relief he’s so happy. enough said.

sokka says: thanks so much for coming! like he doesn’t already know zuko would travel the world just to make him happy or help in what’s important to him. have you forgotten boiling rock, sokka? because that dude you’re wrapped around, acting like he’s been starved of you, sure hasn’t.

this comic is all about nations coming together and traditions being upheld and shared. in other words, marry him sokka. it is in your diplomatic interests to do so.

in utterly insane conclusion:

i am always surprised at how much they made the effort in the writing for this one scene. i don’t see the comics as something that tease ships, they aren’t natla. what i do see is two guys who clearly care about each other, almost to the detriment of their roles and responsibilities, and their relationship was worth the effort taken in the writing and artwork to show that. it is super heckin sweet. does this mean i think zukka is canon or could be? no. maybe did i have fun pretending and overanalyzing every detail? yes.

ps in all seriousness, the answer is that this is about my fav boy and how far he has come in his character growth journey - exhibit a from ‘the avatar returns’ episode:

the end, i am getting blocked and going to jail but it’s okay because zukka is my bosco hug.

#zukka #unhinged ramblings #tash goes feral on nonexistent zukka lore #PLEASE YOUR HONOR #i love sokka so much i want to rip things up when i look at him

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mayariviolet · 28 days

Text

𝐏𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐚 / 𝐈’𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧.

Episode Two of First Love / Late Spring.

summary: “You believe me like a god; I'll destroy you like I am.” // “Please don’t look at me. I can see it in your eyes; he keeps looking at me. Tell me, what have you done?” //

Some letters that were addressed to you dated before and after Suguru defected, still in their sealed envelopes.

══════════════════

cw: f!reader x Geto, mentions of murder, blood, mental instability, swearing, suggestive themes, angst, Geto being over protective.

a/n: Hi… sorry it took me so long to update this my cousin died in March and I haven’t been the same since… Thank you all for being so patient! Also, so sorry if I forgot to tag someone on this update. My mind has been all over the place. Gonna also link the songs the titles are based on so y’all can see the vision fr. Also on Ao3.

wc: 5.9k

🏷️: @jeanboyjean @tacobellfreshavocado @r0ckst4rjk

August 2007

One week before he defected.

Dear Friend,

Do you ever think about that saying, "people are captains of their own fate?" I do. Then again, what about those who think they're "captains of their fate." Or even worse- a fully prepared fool who still gets it wrong. Where do these people end up? Were they predestined to fail?

Anyhow, I think I'm about to make a big mistake.

Well, I've been thinking about this decision for a while. In general, I've been thinking a lot. You've probably noticed my absent stares and maybe you said something in regards to how I look. But I'm having trouble remembering. If you didn't notice, I don't blame you. Even though I want you to notice. You've been going gone through a lot. But then again, so have I.

Yuki and I had a conversation that stuck with me. If you're wondering, it's not about what my kind of woman is. I'm still embarrassed that you overheard that. Even more so, I didn't give a direct answer. However, I don't think my coy, halfway glances at you gave away too much…

When you pulled Haibara away for something I can't remember now (I think you were asking me to come take a look at your door), Yuki plopped down next to me. She was spread out obnoxiously, and my eyes were too heavy to see her expression.

Thus, I was resigned to her rants and entertained some of her ideas. Somewhere in that conversation it brought to light some questions that had been rattling around my brain after what happened with Rika. I'm trying to push away those uncertainties.

I should clear the air right now- you did what you could. What happened or did not happen is not your fault. I will tell you that a million times- however many you need.

If anything, it's my fault for not being there for you. I will always be there for you. It might be in a way that doesn't make sense, but I am there nonetheless.

Sorry about making excuses and skipping our movie nights. Sleeping has been difficult. Maybe it's because you're not here. I don't want you to worry about me- but I also do at the same time. It's an odd feeling, wanting something or someone, having multiple opportunities to do something about it, and letting time slip you by either way.

As I'm writing this, I remember a conversation with your mom about how "right now time is your friend. But later, time will be your enemy."

Maybe tomorrow we can have a conversation about how I'm feeling. I always feel at ease talking to you.

I hope that feeling is mutual.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

Four days before he defected.

Dear Friend,

Uhm, unfortunately, our conversation did not… go well. That's putting it lightly. When I told you about my plan, the expression plastered on your face was something I would carry with me forever. It was agonizing to see you look at me with such disgust.

My chest was tightening, and I could feel you pulling at my hair sharply as you braided it before letting go. Watching you stomp out of my bedroom door through the reflection of my rickety vanity mirror, I have never felt worse in my life, but at the same time, so firm in the choice I'm making—a paradox in real time.

I didn't say it in my last letter, but I'm leaving Jujutsu Society and this bullshit mission made by people who probably need help wiping their ass.

Sorry, that last part was a little profane, but I know you agree with it. I mean, what good is there in protecting people who don't even appreciate what you do? I spent a lot of time reflecting on what happened in the last year and a half, outweighing the pros and cons. The pros obviously involved you, but the cons also involved you.

There's also the fact that I spend a lot of time sitting in my dark room- until the sun is barrelling over the horizon and seeping into my blinds. I wish you had been there during those moments. I'll think about our childhood, your birthday party, how we began writing letters, the day we got recruited to become Jujutsu sorcerers and the overwhelming optimism you had.

We had an opportunity to escape that hell hole town, and we took it without even thinking that staying there might have been less painful than leaving. Sure, we had a couple of surface-level friends, but at the end of the day, we had each other.

God, I wish that was enough.

I think about how happy people must be living in their ignorance, and I get angry again. So, I write. Primarily to you, even though I never express my frustrations. I'm infuriated that no matter what we do, how much we I excorsise curses (that, if born from my own emotions, would definitely be a Special Grade in its own right), it's not enough for those gas bags.

Yes, I might be considered one of the 'strongest,' but I don't want to be, at least, for people who don't deserve it. It's annoying, though, how you've maintained your optimism all of these years.

I shouldn't say annoying.

It's endearing how you want to nurture the world I want to burn to the ground. Well, 'burning to the ground' is a little extreme. I should say I want to make the world a better place for you and me, not those monkeys.

Emphasis on only for you and me.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

══════════════════

September 2007

The day he defected.

Dear Friend,

Well, what's done is done. I'm leaving today. I'd like to say that I'm going without any regrets, but I have one stupid thing sticking around my head. Yaga asked if there was anyone who might be interested in accompanying me on this mission I've been assigned. He kept glancing over my shoulder.

I didn't need to turn around to see who he was talking about. You and Satoru were doing some training or something of the sort. My fist tightened when Satoru told you a stupid joke, and you laughed.

I mean, he's not that funny…

I wasn't mad that you were laughing at his joke, obviously. I was furious because, for the first time since we were kids, I felt disconnected from my body. To be honest, I've been feeling like this for a while. Like I was floating above it all, and what I saw was a future without us, me, you.

You should know by now what I told Yaga.

I'll leave my door open with a note in the hopes you can understand. Or even better yet, come find me after this mission is done.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

Two and a half weeks after he defected.

Dear Friend,

Sorry I haven't written in a while. I've been preoccupied with this mission and tying up some loose ends. I'll explain later, please don't mind the blood on this letter. I didn't write for a while since I half expected to see you with flushed cheeks chasing after me.

I should've known better than to wait for you.

Alas, laying low due to tying up said loose ends is proving to be quite time-consuming. So here's a recap of what I've gotten up to:

Finished the mission (easy work)

Adopted twin girls (not easy work)

Visited our hometown

Saw my parents (not easy work)

Visited your parents (kind of easy work?)

I checked in on that grandma we used to help (unfortunately, she's sick, so my visit was brief).

I explained to my parents the predicament I've found myself in (See the part where I said 'not easy work').

Argued with my parents and then yours.

Settled into my childhood bedroom from complete exhaustion of arguing with those monkeys.

Set a plan to finish up with my loose ends…

I hope you're well. The rain is washing away any residual blood (not mine) on my things. I'll have to stop by a pharmacy to get some hydrogen peroxide to lift any stains the rain might miss.

Drink some tea, and get some sleep. If you're missing me like I am missing you, just sleep with that sweater I gave you. Although it's not me, I hope it will be enough in the meantime. In a roundabout way, it's like I'm still there holding you while you sleep, right? At least, that's how I like to think about it.

Don't worry. I'm not mad that you kept it; I always thought it looked better on you than it did on me.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru

(P.S.) My letters will be spread more from here on out. I don't want to accidentally leave anything that might make it easier for someone to find my whereabouts. That doesn't mean I'm not thinking about you. I'm always thinking about you.

══════════════════

October 2007

One month after he defected.

Dear Friend,

It feels like every time I write to you, I apologize for not saying enough. Which is funny, because that's how we I started writing letters to each other in the first place. Well, kinda. From now on, I'll keep my apologies to a minimum.

It's hard to keep track of the days that are passing, but I know that by now, Satoru has told you what I've done. It's completely necessary, by the way.

Killing my parents. Killing yours. Killing that grandmother. She was sick anyway.

I would like to think I put her out of her misery. I killed whatever remained of that god-forsaken, hell-hole town. I'll spare the details of what happened when I exterminated our my old life.

Just know that I had no remorse for killing your father and only a little for your mother. They died knowing you were okay and, unfortunately, with a smile on their face. I was surprised that they didn't immediately turn into curses. I guess you've been talking to them. Or were talking to them.

When I left that town bloodied and empty, I felt like a bird finally escaping a circus master's cage. Doing all of this will make it easier to forget. It was the closing chapter of a book I had no pleasure in reading. Please don't thank me for what I've done.

Right now, Mimiko and Nanako (the twin girls I saved during that mission) are having a hard time sleeping. I'm watching their furrowed brows and how their mouths twitch in their sleep. I guess even in their dreams, they can't rest. Sounds like someone I know knew.

In about five minutes, one of them will wake up and then another. I'll need to tend to their troubled minds soon enough. Before that happens, I will say sorry one last time. Sorry.

Knowing you, you're probably waiting up for me, probably in your room, probably waiting with Satoru, whose sweaty palms and jittery disposition betray his cool facade.

Maybe Satoru will take my absence as an opportunity to teach you about Digimon. It will be nice for you to take up another hobby. Or get into gardening again. I remember how much you wanted to start.

Eat well, get some sleep (or try to), and be kind to yourself. At least enough for both of us. Hell knows I haven't done that in a while.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

══════════════════

November 2007

Two months since he defected.

Dear Friend,

There was something in my last letter that I forgot to mention. It was one of the things that I told Satoru. I said that I hated righteous people- which is true to some capacity.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

Two and a half months after he defected.

Dear Friend,

We're getting rain again. I realized that I might be repeating the same mistakes as your monkey parents by being too proud to lease a decent place. But things are getting harder to maneuver through what little connections to jujutsu society I have without tipping off any higher-ups. Mei Mei offered me some jobs that she said 'wasn't worth her time for the money.'

I guess I'm worthless.

But money is money, and I have two daughters now. Is it possible for curses to smell even worse when the holidays come around? I suppose so- with all the lonely people without any family to celebrate with. You can't help but think that they may have isolated themselves. I don't blame them.

Long story short, I've scraped up enough money to lease a place away from the higher-ups. Should I start looking for furniture made by sorcerers? Or should I swallow my pride and just buy some mid-tier premade stuff? Second hand? But then again- there's the issue of residual curse energy. But I could always take care of that.

I'm feeling exhausted again.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

══════════════════

February 3rd 2008

Six months after he defected.

Dear Friend,

Maybe it's the nostalgia, maybe it's the first birthday I'm celebrating without you, but I keep reliving that weekend prior to it all. That house in Okinawa. The moon was hanging in the sky while the stars pricked the darkness, shining brightly. Sounds of waves crashing against the rocky shore, pulling whatever footprints or human error into the black abyss.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky. You insisted that Satoru get some sleep and that we take turns keeping watch. He shook his head and stupidly emphasized that he was fine. Satoru's heavily lidded expression did very little to disguise his fatigue- both of us could tell.

I was watching you, and you were watching him. I felt sick.

Satoru suggested that you get some rest first since you planned the whole trip for Rika, and you scowled before trudging over to the couch, insisting that you weren't tired. I wanted to grab your face and kiss that annoyance away, over and over again- maybe a little more. When you inevitably passed out, I glanced over to Satoru, who looked more alert now that you were asleep. It was like the task of keeping Rika alive had the same level of importance as dog sitting.

I wondered if you ever noticed. Or noticed that I've shared that same expression since we were kids.

I guess there's no use in ruminating. Today, I ran some errands, nothing major. I had a cake that Mimiko and Nanako decorated; they started calling me 'Papa Geto.' It's sweet.

I forgot to mention that while I was rearranging some furniture, a journal that I have kept since we were kids got knocked down from a bookshelf and pathetically fell on the ground. Mimiko and Nanako bolted like a feral tanuki.

I was mildly horrified at what they might have seen (before remembering that they aren't super great at reading yet, and then I relaxed slightly).

What happened next was probably worse than some scribbled preteen angst. They found the picture of us on your birthday, where I had your birthday cake all over my face. That was the first of many years when my parents bought you a birthday cake.

My girls laughed at me (why is it that when a child laughs at you, it's exponentially more mortifying than if an adult was?) but were incredibly kind to you.

After scolding them for not respecting other people's belongings (ironic given the subject matter of the photo), they apologized and asked who the 'pretty girl' in the picture was.

Embarrassment was replaced with excitement as I got to talk about you.

Anyhow, the money I've made from expelling curses prior to defecting is depleting rather quickly, so I need to come up with some plan.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

══════════════════

April 2008

Eight months since he defected.

Dear,

Dear Friend,

Spring is here, and I have taken over the former Star Plasma Vessel Church, or cult, or whatever those idiots called it. In addition to having some stable footing, there's a roof over my head that I don't have to thank some monkey landlord for giving me it. It's very cozy, to say the least. Which I think was the realtors code for 'small and borderline inhabitable.'

It'll be some time before I'm able to build a decent following, but those who decided to stay will do so for now. Mimiko and Nanako are being homeschooled for the time being- until I find a school that is okay with my standards.

I was grocery shopping the other day, and I found some green tea that you might like. Before I could even think, it was in my basket next to some sugary cereal for my girls. I was mentally shooting myself in the foot because I'm on a budget (at least for a while).

I don't even like green tea, for goodness sake. But that night, I found myself fixing two cups, one with a dollop of sweetened condensed milk and a spoonful of honey, stirred counter-clockwise. The other one was disgustingly plain, and I steeped the leaves a little too long.

I drank the plain tea, stewing in my impulsivity. The other cup was a milky brown; it was unappealing and painfully sweet, yet I found a warmth spilling over me. I must have been half asleep, but somewhere in my delirium, I thought I heard you scold me for taking a sip of your drink.

My eyes shot open immediately, and I frantically looked around the kitchen. Had some monkey snuck up on me? I shudder at the thought. But that wasn't the case. Just my mind playing tricks on me. I should get more sleep.

I hope you've been getting some, too- you need to get stronger. Anyway, I finished the rest of my tea and grabbed the other cup, which was ice cold. I poured the drink and watched it trickle down the steel sink- before crawling into bed.

I don't know why I thought that was worth mentioning.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

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June 2008

Ten months since he defected.

Dear Friend,

Do you ever think about how dreams can be worse than reality? Writing that down seems silly because you know more than anyone, and considering I've held you until we fell asleep, I should know the answer. In truth, whenever I held you, I thought it would be a good opportunity to say things to you that I couldn't do while you were awake, as if these letters weren't enough!

I used to say really embarrassing things and a sadistic part of me wished you would wake up and ask me if I really meant what I said- but I digress.

It's hard to distinguish alcohol-laced dreams (brought upon by terrible dates the girls have insisted I go on) from memories. All that to say, I had a vivid dream (?) of how I think my first kiss went.

Autumn had brought about a cool night and an impulsive decision to sneak into an amusement park. We drunkenly went on this massive Ferris wheel, and you pulled out a cigarette and offered me a drag. I said no, and for some reason, we got into an argument and then sat in silence.

At some point, I thought to myself, "When will this ride stop?" then, by some miracle, it did! We sat in silence, and then I started smoking a cigarette too. Maybe because it felt cold in my dream, but the warm glow of nicotine and your body kept me warm. Then I kissed you.

Writing about this now… it's too clear to just be a dream. I hope it wasn't a dream. My youth seems so distant compared to where I am now.

The humidity is so oppressive. I feel like I'm soaking in my own sweat. It seems a little facetious to say that now. I keep recalling pockets of my adolescence. It's kind of like a gum packet you thought was empty, but when you go to dispose of it- there are actually three pieces left.

There's poetry in that somewhere, not to mansplain. Obviously.

Excuse my tangents; I'm still trying to recruit new curse users, not to mention pacifying the congregation at my Church, and my mind is so disorganized.

What's new, though?

Sincerely and with love always,

Suguru.

══════════════════

September 2008

One year since he defected.

Dear, Friend,

Dear Friend,

I went on a walk the other day. The sun was just rising above the horizon, nothing was open, and everything was quiet except for the few stragglers who had missed the last train. Some of them reeked of curses and desperation; it's enough to make a person grow a second stomach and throw it back up.

I did collect some in passing (in case I need it later), but I found no joy in helping others who can't even help themselves. This is what we sorcerers were made for, right? Cleaning up shit that's not even ours? I'm getting sidetracked again.

If you're wondering about my influence over the former Star Plasma Church- it's going okay. Slowly but surely, I'll get a more extensive following. I cannot remember if I told you this, but I have decided to promote myself as a monk. I am relying on word of mouth and exorcising curses or "performing miracles," to gain some trust.

Anyhow, if I'm going to exorcise these curses, I'll make sure to get a steady income. I am a father, after all. Hopefully, there's something else to gain from that. But I can only do this for so long. Please remind me to think of a more permanent solution.

The sun is rising again.

Sincerely and with love always,

Suguru.

(P.S.) I know you can't ever remind me of anything, really, but like always I feel a little more at ease writing this down.

══════════════════

December 2008

One year after, he defected.

Dear Friend,

Merry Christmas. Or, happy holidays. I've been keeping busy, and I hope you have been, too. Technically, this is my second Christmas / Holiday without you. It's still as weird as the first.

Actually, I don't know if it will ever get comfortable.

People say that the holidays are the worst for people like me. Exacerbated loneliness and the weather all contribute to an increase in curses. It's great money, but how useful is that?

I mean, you could have all the money in the world and still be miserable. Recently, I've started to gain traction from this stout millionaire who always seems to have a gang of curses around at all times.

We met by an unfortunate yet beneficial accident. Apparently, he's one of the few dimwits who can see curses. He's been aimlessly wandering about, trying to find someone to help, but no one believed him.

I was taking the girls to an optometrist appointment, and while I was finishing some paperwork, I overheard this screeching. Curiosity took over me, so I snuck a glance into the room behind the secretary's desk.

There was a massive commotion with several doctors trying to reassure that man I was talking about before. It turns out that he could see curses, and when no one was looking, I exorcised them for him. It was second nature to help someone so pathetic. He kept on calling me a miracle worker- insane! I guess I've been like that since I was little… However, he kept thanking me, and an idea popped into my head:

If I can get a steady number of people to pay for my miracles, I could make an obscene amount of money and have better insurance for separation from the higher-ups.

This man seems to come from money or considerable influence. Maybe he can be my test case. It's getting late now, so I should get some rest. I have to dress up as Santa for Mimiko and Nanako.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a Happy Birthday to Satoru.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

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March 2009

Two years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

Recently, I went on a hike. It was okay and long. The ground was wet, and when I got home, I found mud everywhere. I'll tell you about the trail. It was beautiful. A murmuring stream, the wind dancing through the budding trees and a dusty rose sky. You would have loved the flowers. Whenever I see anything flourishing after a tough season, I think about you.

Despite being filled with tourists, non-sorcerers, and whatever, I was able to enjoy the sunset. Mimiko and Nanako had extra tutoring lessons, so I took advantage of the little free time I had. However, after being constantly bombarded with questions about anything and seemingly endless children's movies, the quiet that followed disturbed me.

Once I reached the end of the trail, I found myself eager to see my girls. But the hike was long, and I thought it would be a waste if I didn't stay for a minute or two. I thought it would be nice to take some pictures, so I did that before locating a place to sit. I found a wooden bench tucked underneath this wisteria tree (how it grew there is a mystery). My mind wandered aimlessly; funnily enough, I just now remembered we had that assignment due before I left.

I apologize for not doing my part. Do you think we could still submit it? Haha.

Anyways, while sitting on a bench, I overheard two people talking. It was a boring conversation, definitely not worth eavesdropping on (you'd probably say otherwise), but for whatever reason, I decided to tune into the tail end of their conversation.

One of them had been blurting out facts in order to keep a dead conversation going. Some of it was interesting, but most of them were things that they probably saw on a popsicle stick. Their friend nodded along, listening intently. This went on for a while until the one who kept spewing facts (let's call them popsicles) said something along the lines of:

"Have you ever thought about how we're a mosaic of every person we've ever met, talked to, or loved?"

Even though I don't know them (nor do I care to), that was probably the most intellectual thing they've ever said in their lives. I thought to myself and laughed.

But then I felt a sort of heaviness in my chest. The more I observed them from my peripheral, the more I could see bits and pieces of the habits they shared. How they playfully hit one another after cracking a joke, covering their mouth after saying something slightly offensive. It made me nostalgic.

On my way back down the trail, I thought about you. It was nearly dark now. I thought about how if I was a mosaic of everyone I ever loved:

"How many pieces of you make up my whole?"

"Which parts of me do you keep?"

I'm glad I'm never sending these letters; I'm probably better off not knowing these answers.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

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November 2010

Three years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

I've realized that it's not love I felt for you but obsession. It's harsh, cruel and painful to put you through that. For me, you were never home. That much is true. Which isn't to say you weren't something. You are a temple, and I am a sinner. If I were to step into the Holy Land you so graciously keep tidy, I would only desecrate it with my ideals.

Unfortunately, I do not want to bathe in the river to clean myself of these thoughts. So, I will seek refuge elsewhere. You deserve that after everything.

Sincerely,

Suguru

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April 2015

Eight years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

I don't think I'll ever get tired of writing to you. Even though you'll never read these, it's stupid how only now have I realized what your father meant when he said it was easier to write things than to say them out loud. Time really is my enemy now. My previous letters mentioned how well Mimiko and Nanako are doing in school. I just thought I would say that again. I'm so incredibly proud of them.

Maybe by now, you have kids of your own- I know that you'll treat them with kindness rather than the contempt your father displayed. I thought about my parents again and their role in my life, but not for long.

You probably saw them as a safe place; to me, they were just there. A starting point to the inevitable destruction brought about by my existence. Did you know that I thought I could always save them? They trusted me to do so and keep you safe as well. Funny how life throws us around.

Work is exhausting, and during the slower days, I let my mind wander to the possible outcomes had I stayed at Jujutsu Tech. Would I be a teacher? Would I be a good teacher? Are we both teachers? You're a patient person- I know that you would be a good teacher. A faculty favourite. How promising would my students be? What would our daily routine be like? How often do we get to see each other in between classes? Are we still friends?

Are we together?

Are we in love?

From what I've gathered, you've taken a bit of a leave…

I'll save myself the hurt of writing the reason why. We both know, and unfortunately, I understand.

There's a storm barrelling towards the Church. Actually, they've issued a squall warning. The skies are rolling with grey plump clouds. I wish I could tell you what a squall is- it sounds dumb, but apparently, it's dangerous.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

══════════════════

September 2016

Nine years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

Allies seem to come from the most unlikely places. That man I was talking about before turned out to be a great asset. I've gotten more followers and even an assistant out of it! If you're wondering, yes, it's vital.

One thing I hate more than people who cannot use jujutsu is paperwork. It takes up so much of my time. Luckily, my secretary has been doing most of the heavy lifting now. We've been working long hours together, and to be honest, I don't mind. She's smart and beautiful. Her attitude kind of reminds me of you.

Sorry about the short letters- historically, mine have been longer than yours, but I have been planning something big that needs my attention. Not to mention, Mimiko and Nanako are entering their phase where everything I do seems to make them cringe.

Years ago, I said that children laughing at you was more mortifying than adults. I still believe that to be true; however, both cannot hold a candle to the shame and quickly depleting self-worth a couple of teenagers laughing at you but promptly saying, "Oh, it's nothing" can do.

My family is growing, not in the way yours is. Or so I've heard.

It fills me with so much joy to be surrounded by other like-minded people. People who believe that in order to obtain peace or a brief period of one- non-curse users should cease to be.

My heart is overflowing- but there's still a piece where you always will be.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

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November 2017

Ten years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

Do you ever think about who gets to determine the natural outcome of anything? Is it fate? Is it man? I suppose it's hard to say since answers vary from person to person. I would like to think that it's around sixty percent individual choice and forty percent chance.

I mentioned years ago about a man who could see curses; well, yesterday, I killed him. His use to me finally ran its course. I do thank him for all he's done and the people he's brought to me. My plans are coming to fruition. The Higher Ups have been tracking my movements and expanding my influence. I bet you have already had a debrief on what to expect.

I could see how, on your end, I'm being irrational or unreasonable. But I argue that cleansing the world of non-sorcerers is the only solution. Ending their suffering will put an end to ours.

But God, what I would pay to hear what Yaga is saying! He's probably wearing those stupid sunglasses and cursing. Satoru has asked me to meet with him- probably to ask me, yet again, if I'm really going through with the Night Parade.

My answer remains firm: yes. He's probably going to tell me to stop and think about you.

Like I've said before and like I always tell Satoru, I always think about you. When I meet with Satoru, I'll ask him if he can pass along how I want to see you. The girls are calling me to take them out, so I'll perform my fatherly duties.

I hope you'll say yes. I need to see you at least once.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

══════════════════

December 2017

Three days before the Night Parade of 100 Demons.

Dear,

I must be some sort of pervert to believe that you would run away with me. I don't think pervert is the right word, but that's how I felt right then and there when you rejected me. In all fairness, I couldn't think appropriately after seeing you.

Then again, you must have some masochistic tendencies to agree to meet with me. Your hair looked beautiful, and the way the cigarette burning a bright cherry red hung on your cracked lips reminded me of that night on the Ferris Wheel, which, in fact, did happen.

I came across some old letters to confirm my hazy memory. When the snowflakes landed on your eyelashes, I just about melted, like when the sleepy snow makes its warm welcome for spring. The moon was casting shadows on your tired but beautiful face. You had a glow that made hearing you curse me out a tad more bearable.

But I'm rambling. You couldn't think about going to Shinjuku, right? I could never stop you, even more so now, but I can't back down. Not even for you- which I think was detrimental for us both ten years ago and now.

Seeing you standing next to Satoru, cursing at me, with his hand placed firmly on your hips with a face full of disdain, I think I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But that's not a proper death. You should be standing next to me!

I watched you walk away in the dark night with a sense of urgency, a new purpose. You will probably fight in your own way, but please let me do this.

I'm not asking you- I am begging you to let me take care of you one last time.

You might not believe me, but everything I have done until now, all the blood I have shed, has been for you. I promise I will spare your children (to be fair, raiding the Gojo estate would be a waste of good sorcerers), but I can't make any promises for anyone else who stands in my way.

It seems contradictory, but I know what I am doing is right.

When I write to you again, it will be something you can read- in the new world, and we will have all the time in the world. No longer beholden to curses, only each other.

Sincerely and with all my love,

Suguru.

a/n: Suguru Geto. The man that you were and the man that you became. I love you either way, my beautiful raven-haired, purple-eyed princess. We’re about half way there! Thank you all for being so patient these last couple of months🤍. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies, I have tried my best to remember the details of this story wah!

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#cw blood #cw suggestive #𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒊’𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔₊˚⊹🪞.𖥔 ݁ ˖📖#suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk geto #geto suguru

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 9 months

Text

Love and Liabilities (Agatha Harkness x FemReader): Chapter One

Summary: While you attend a pretrial conference for your current case, you’re stunned to learn your opposing council is your former ex…and law school professor, Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, Light Choking, Light Degradation Kink, Mommy Kink, Hate Sex

A/N: Hi :) This idea has been bouncing around my brain since the promo pics came out. Lawyer Agatha, the gift we all need for the new year. This is my first real attempt at writing smut, but I hope y’all enjoy. Updates will be around every 2 weeks. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know. Feel free to let me know what you think! 💜 Also a special shout-out to my sweet girlfriend, Sarah, thank you for always listening to my crazy ideas.

Smoothing out a wrinkle from your pantsuit, you looked over your case materials from outside the courtroom. It had been almost a decade since you graduated law school, and you’d spent the time since working in corporate law as a junior attorney, before leaving the firm and working your way up as a top prosecutor. To say you were married to your job would be an understatement. It wasn’t enough to be good, you simply had to be the best. You’d always pride yourself on your ability to dig deep in a case and pull out missing details, or find a crack in a seemingly perfect alibi. You were ruthless, but you knew you had to be. The defense attorneys you found yourself battling in court were absolute sharks, and if they sensed an ounce of hesitation on your end it would be a total bloodbath.

Dealing with criminal defense cases was as interesting as it sounded, although it wasn’t what you envisioned you’d be doing after law school. You had different dreams back then, more altruistic visions of helping those who needed it. Closing your eyes, you saw a brief flash of the strikingly blue eyes and dark hair that caused you to change your choice of career, before you quickly shook those thoughts aside. It had been almost ten years since you’d allowed yourself to think about her- about any of it, and it wouldn’t benefit you to take a stroll down memory lane before the biggest case of your career.

A law clerk eventually came by to inform you the judge was ready for you. This was it. Gathering your materials, you walked through the details again in your mind. Pre-trial conferences were relatively helpful when trying to reach a plea bargain, review evidence, as well as decide what to present to the jury. There was no doubt in your mind that this case would go to trial. After all, a woman who kidnaps two children and takes them to a small town in New Jersey didn’t leave much to plead innocent from. What was the name of it, Westchester? Westmont? No, no, you mentally crossed those out, until the name finally came to mind…Westview. Westview, New Jersey.

The room was relatively empty, and you recognized the judge, Carol Danvers. She had a reputation for being rather uptight, but was typically fair in her rulings. She’d moved up through various circuit courts throughout her career, and you’d heard rumblings she was being eyed for a potential Supreme Court nomination. Setting your briefcase on the empty chair next to you, you thought of any possible hiccups from the defense. Supposedly a brief psych evaluation had been done after the incident to rule anything out, so they wouldn’t try and plead insanity, right? You couldn’t see Carol ruling in favor of that. There was the small problem of genetics; the woman was the boys’ birth mother. But, you’d looked over the adoption contracts, as had your colleagues, and they were airtight. It had been a closed adoption, and from what you could tell there had been no contact for over a decade. Plus, with solid testimonies from both families and multiple eyewitnesses you weren’t worried of whatever argument the defense would make in her favor.

Speaking of the defense, you quickly realized the defense attorney hadn’t arrived yet, which was a bit unusual. Racking your brain, you tried to remember the name of the attorney Yelena said was leading the case, but no one came to mind. Pepper Potts perhaps? Carol also appeared to notice the lack of the second attorney, as she whispered with one of the law clerks. You could barely make out what they were saying, but she sounded annoyed. But, no matter, you knew this had absolutely no impact on you.

Carol finally sighed in defeat at whatever the law clerk told her, something about hitting a fire hydrant? “Well, as we’re waiting on the defense to resolve their…tardiness, will the prosecution step forward?”

Standing up, you grabbed a copy of your materials, evidence, testimonies, anything the judge would need, before taking a step towards the judge. “Your honor, the state of New York is ready to move forward with our case. You’ll find sufficient evidence to dismiss any plea deal, as well as ensure we can schedule a trial date.”

Handing the papers to the judge, you watched as she flipped through them, an unreadable expression on her face. Minutes passed before she looked up at you. “The prosecution is dismissing the plea deal being proposed by the defense?”

Nodding, you recalled the deal that had been sent over to your office. It was preposterous, and was heavily dependent on the mental state of the defendant, or rather the lack of mental state of the defendant. “Yes, your honor. The state has inculpatory evidence to convict the defendant, as well as a number of witnesses willing to testify.”

A voice you’d only heard in your dreams for the past decade spoke up, and you nearly froze in place. “Inculpatory evidence? That’s a rather bold claim, I’d call it circumstantial at best.”

It couldn’t be. Paralyzed, you forced yourself to ignore it, to ignore her and keep your eyes locked forward. It couldn’t possibly be her, you would have remembered hearing her name as the defense attorney. Clearing your throat, you continued, trying to keep yourself calm. “With all due respect, your honor, the typical procedure for a case involving the abduction of a minor is what we’re basing this precedent on-”

An obnoxiously loud cackle cut you off, and nearly made you whip your head around in annoyance. The slow clacking of heels echoed throughout the room, followed by the faint scent of Burberry that invaded your senses. Brief flashes of lecture halls and late night office hour visits intertwined with the smell of cigars and expensive whiskey. Lengthy, heated arguments over the moral justification of various Supreme Court rulings whilst being undressed and pressed against the door. Diamond jewelry and lavish bouquets being delivered to your modest law school apartment as you sheepishly explained to your roommates you were seeing an older woman. Secret rendezvous in dimly lit piano bars in Manhattan which would end in a king size bed in a penthouse you could never dream of affording.

It all led back to the same thought, the same woman you’d done your best to let go of. The very same woman you currently found yourself standing face to face with. Agatha Harkness. Clever blue eyes met yours, and a slow smirk painted her perfect red lips. She hadn’t changed much over the past decade. Her dark hair, now peppered with some gray, was pinned back with a few loose strands framing her face, and you briefly thought of how well it suited her. The fitted black pantsuit which accentuated her features, and black heels that made her look deceptively tall as she towered over you.

For a moment it was as if no time had passed at all, and you were back in her lecture hall. But as quickly as that oddly nostalgic feeling overcame you like a tidal wave, it swept away, leaving you with the reality of the situation. Clearing your throat, you looked past Agatha, keeping your focus on Judge Danvers. “As I was saying. While looking at prior cases involving the abduction of a minor we were able to set a precedent that-”

Agatha let out another cackle, and it took everything in you to not roll your eyes. However it appeared Carol was at the end of her rope with patience, as she banged her gavel twice. “Does the defense have something they wish to share with the rest of us?”

“Your honor,” Agatha drawled out, her voice sweet like honey, “The prosecution is making bold assumptions on precedents that do not directly follow the evidence of this particular case. To rule anything otherwise would be direct defamation to my client.”

“Defamation?” You all but hissed, momentarily forgetting you were in the middle of a courtroom. The answering smirk Agatha gave you only fuelled your fire. “Your honor, the defense is all but negating the direct evidence of the defendant’s guilt. We would like to proceed to trial while throwing out the plea deal.”

Agatha’s shark tooth grin widened, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was baiting you to get a reaction. Typical, as she always prided herself on being ten steps ahead of her opponent. Taking a deep breath, you regained your calm composure. It would do you no good to allow your emotions to take over. That would merely ensure Agatha to have one more victory over you, one more thing she would take away from you. But things were different this time, you weren’t some feeble, naive law student fawning over her professor. The playing field was finally leveled, and it was about time she realized that.

Unfortunately, you forgot Agatha never played fair. You curiously watched her grab two folders from her briefcase, all but tossing one at you whilst handing Carol the other. “While we’re discussing the plea deal your honor, I’ve included additional information regarding my client’s psychiatric evaluation.”

Practically tearing the folder open, your eyes scanned the lengthy documents before landing on something that nearly made you fall over. Before you could get a word in, Agatha continued on. “Due to our country’s ever failing healthcare and medical practices, my client has been unable to receive a proper psychiatric evaluation. Your honor, I am requesting a continuance to this trial until my client can get the help she needs.”

Carol’s focus remained on the papers, an inscrutable expression coloring her features. “I’m granting a one month continuance for the defendant, Wanda Maximoff, to be given a psychiatric evaluation. As long as Miss Maximoff follows the terms of her probation and doesn’t leave the state of New York, we’ll resume this conference one month from today. Thank you to the prosecution and defense, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to see the smug smirk on Agatha’s face, you packed up your materials, including the folder Agatha gave you, and did your best to hurry out of the courtroom. It was foolish to think you’d beat Agatha at the game she taught you to play. That’s what it always was to Agatha, a game. It was like everyone around her was playing checkers while she was constructing the most elaborate game of chess known to man. All while she moved you around as whatever piece she desired; because that’s how she viewed you, as an object she could twist and mold to her liking until you outlived your usefulness.

Ignoring the familiar sound of her heels approaching, you drafted a quick email to one of your colleagues with the news of the trial being halted before going to order your Uber. You didn’t have to look up to know Agatha was standing in front of you, because that was just part of her intricate plan. She surely knew you were furious, because of course she did. Hadn’t she once told you she knew everything? At the time you thought it was a cheeky remark to make you laugh, but looking back you came to terms with the fact that the only person Agatha Harkness could ever care for was herself.

You were growing weary of the rising tension, so you finally broke the silence, keeping your eyes locked on your phone. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure,” Agatha replied, and although you weren’t looking at her you could practically feel her gaze burning into you. “I never took you for a sore loser, dear.”

There it was, she was trying to get her claws back in you. Keeping your tone even, you checked on the status of your Uber. “I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to. I’m just doing my job.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, your phone was ripped from your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, angrily whipping your head up and your eyes narrowed, meeting the deep blue eyes you used to get lost in. “Give me back my phone.”

“Checking for your ride?” Agatha mocked, arching an eyebrow up at you. “Is that more interesting than talking to me?”

“Watching paint dry would be more interesting than speaking with you,” You retorted, your discomfort quickly growing.

“Now darling, is that any way to speak to me?” Agatha teased, her voice gradually dropping in volume. “It’s been so long.”

Glaring at her, you tried to pry your phone from her hands, but she put it in her back pocket. “And whose fault is that again?” Your voice was laced with venom, you subconsciously wanted to make her feel as badly as you had. “Should we take a stroll down memory lane and recall what caused this?”

Agatha’s gaze hardened at that jab, and you momentarily wondered if you pushed too hard. “I’m surprised you’re leading this case. I thought you wanted to,” she paused and used air quotes, “‘help the voiceless’, not strangle them.”

“How dare you,” You seethed, not caring that your voice was growing in volume. “I’m just doing my job, Agatha. Besides, isn’t strangling the helpless what you do best?”

Agatha tilted her head back, and let out another cackle. “Doing your job? You’re trying to imprison an innocent mother.”

“Your innocent mother kidnapped two minors and took them over state lines,” You fired back, vaguely aware that Agatha was taking small, slow steps towards you.

“She’s still their mother,” Agatha pointed out and you felt your face grow red from rage.

“Regardless of DNA, it was a closed adoption. She waived her parental rights,” You argued, unaware of anything but the infuriating woman standing in front of you. “Surely you’ve been practicing long enough to know how to read a contract.”

“And I thought I taught you to read between the lines of said contracts,” Agatha countered, and you knew she was testing your argument, it’s what she always did. “Things aren’t always black and white, dear.”

No they weren’t, you silently agreed. By this point your back was to the wall of the deserted corridor, Agatha still towering over you. Your faces were practically touching, and you could practically taste her lips. Both of you were panting from the exertion of bickering, and it wouldn’t take much to close the distance. She was so close, closer than she had been to you in so long. Having her back in your orbit, taking over all of your senses, made you forget the reasons you were so angry with her. Instead, it made you remember how many other times you had found yourself in this exact same position.

You could feel your ironclad restraint begin to slip away, and Agatha appeared to notice it as well. She let out a low chuckle as she turned her face to the side, her breath now hot against your ear, and allowing her to whisper, “Looks like it still doesn’t take much to get you riled up, does it?”

Shuddering, you struggled to get your breathing even, thinking of the many reasons why this was a horrible idea. Your history aside, you were on opposing sides of what would most likely be a very public case. It wasn’t just unprofessional to be doing this, it could potentially jeopardize your whole career. But it was hard to think about any of that when you locked eyes with the woman you had spent so much time trying to forget. Her right hand left your waist to push back the loose strands of your hair, tucking them behind your ear.

Each movement was slow, and delicate, and as her fingers slowly trailed down your neck, she gently squeezed, before gradually applying more pressure, and you had to physically restrain yourself from moaning. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs and had to close your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. Agatha’s lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open kisses on your flesh while her fingers began to move lower, cupping your left breast before slowly pinching your nipple. This time you couldn’t stop the quiet moan that left your lips, and Agatha quickly used her free hand to silence you, covering your mouth.

“You always had a problem being quiet,” Agatha murmured, lips still on your skin. “Let’s find somewhere more…secluded to continue this, hm?”

Feeling yourself nod, you opened your eyes and let out a pathetic whine as she let go of you. It didn’t take long to find an empty storage closet, and Agatha practically shoved you inside before slamming the door behind her.

Pressing you against the bare wall, her eyes scanned yours before asking, “Are you sure?”

Being with Agatha like this was the greatest euphoric high, and it always left you wanting more and more. It didn’t have to mean anything, and you certainly didn’t want it to. It was just two people working out their frustrations, right? You nodded again, grabbing her right hand and placing it back around your throat. “Are you going to choke me again or are you too much of a coward?”

She nearly growled at that, and squeezed, a little rougher this time. You pressed your face into her shoulder, trying to silence the noises you always made when she touched you. She had barely started but it was so good, and you didn’t hesitate when she used her free hand to try and remove your blazer. Taking a step back to take off your blouse and bra, you nearly tripped over some boxes, and her hands steadied you.

“Careful,” She lightly teased, eyes still dark from arousal. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Her hands skillfully unhooked your bra, carelessly tossing it to the side, before lowering her mouth to your breast, and lewdly sucked. As if she anticipated the noises you’d inevitably make, she roughly pressed two fingers in your open mouth for you to suck. Moaning around them, you eagerly sucked and sucked, thinking of where you wanted her fingers to go next. Agatha’s tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing it enough to make it go erect before using her teeth to pull. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, your last functioning brain cells wondering how she could still have this strong of an effect on you.

She let out a low hum, clearly enjoying this as much as you were before moving to your other breast, only this time she bit down, and the rush of pain and pleasure flooded you. Unable to cry out as she fucked her fingers further down your throat before adding a third, causing you to gag around them. Releasing your breast, Agatha panted out, “Look at how pathetic you are, sucking on my fingers like a good little slut. What a good girl.”

Whimpering around her fingers, you clenched at the filth spewing from her lips. You hated this, how easily she could flip the switch and have you dripping and wanting her to fuck you through the floorboards. Agatha cooed, using her free hand to gently stroke your face, and roughly pulled her fingers out of your mouth. She was face level again, and you watched the gears turn in her head as she weighed out what to do with you. That same free hand cupped your jaw, and she was so close, your brain buzzing from the endorphins. It was so good, you hated how good it was.

Her normally perfectly red lips were stained and parted slightly as she looked at you with an indecipherable stare, and you were still breathless from her earlier ministrations. Before you could fully comprehend what you were doing, you grabbed her hair and smashed your lips together. You swore you heard her groan, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and you had no time to contemplate it as you felt her tongue teasing the entrance of your mouth. It has been so long, so very long, but you fell back into the familiar dance you could never forget.

Everything Agatha did she dominated, for she had such a strong presence that was impossible to ignore. Just kissing her was enough to get you off, as her tongue expertly swirled around yours, sending you further and further from the edge of reality. You were so far gone you barely noticed her hands moving lower, and lower, until they were pawing at your ass. Groping and grabbing, she was insatiable as she conquered your mouth. You broke apart for merely a second and without speaking, you helped get rid of your pants, slightly stunned you were still this in sync after all this time.

But again, you had no time to ponder that thought as Agatha quickly slammed you against the wall, and you couldn’t help but moan at the pain. The same fingers you eagerly sucked on were now teasing your entrance, rubbing gentle, slow circles. Agatha’s breath was hot in your ear, and you whined, trying to thrust your hips up for more friction. You needed more, you needed her more than ever before. Going without for so long was fine, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like, what she felt like; but the second you remembered you couldn’t bear a second without it.

“Someone’s awfully worked up,” Agatha taunted, her voice softly whispering in your ear. “Did you want something?”

“Agatha…” You breathed out, your voice nearly cracking. “Please…”

Her fingers teased your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, causing Agatha to silence you with yet another kiss. “Behave,” she murmured against your lips, “Do you want me inside you? Do you want me to fill that sweet little cunt?”

Mewling, you again tried to tilt your hips up, desperate to feel her inside you, but her other hand kept you in place. “Agatha, please, I…I need it, please fuck me.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, “I know your brain just melts when that pussy gets wet, but we both know that’s not what you want to call me, is it?” Blushing, you tried to avert your eyes but it was impossible. She nipped at your lips before continuing. “Be a good girl and beg for it.”

“Mommy,” The words slipped past your lips and you felt another rush of heat between your legs while Agatha moaned.

“Good girl,” Agatha praised you, and before you could prepare yourself she roughly entered you with two fingers, filling you completely.

Her fingers were so long and so good, hitting the spots you had trouble reaching. You couldn’t help but clench around them, and she groaned in your ear. Wasting no time, she set a fast and hard rhythm, skillfully fucking you better than anyone else since her had been able to.

“I almost forgot how good your cunt feels around my fingers,” Agatha hissed, nibbling on your ear, “Suck me in, slut.”

Your hips met her fingers, and you desperately chased your orgasm. “Harder, please mommy fuck me harder.”

Putting all of her weight on you, Agatha swiftly added a third finger and you nearly squealed at how full you felt. Her fingers were so deep, and you were so close, so very close to the edge.

“Such a good whore for mommy,” Agatha cooed, and her voice was strained, you could tell she was close too. “Do you want to come on my fingers?”

“Mommy please,” You cried out, unable to focus on anything but wanting to feel her fingers make you come harder than you could ever remember.

Agatha’s hips rested against your knee, and she began riding your leg, chasing her own high. “Come for mommy, baby. Soak my fingers.”

Twisting her fingers and hitting your G-spot again, and again causing you to quickly unravel. Feeling your orgasm coming, you clenched around her fingers, needing her to stay inside you. Your knees buckled and you swore you saw stars, unable to speak as you silently cried out. Agatha came right as you did, grunting in your ear and roughly thrusting against your leg as she came undone.

“Fuck,” She panted, keeping her fingers inside you as you continued to twitched around them. “Good girl, such a good girl for mommy.”

Breathing heavily, you gradually felt yourself come back to Earth. You were drenched with sweat, and you were sure you looked positively debauched. Agatha was staring at you with yet another inscrutable expression on her face, and you felt yourself relaxing around her fingers as she slowly pulled out. You grabbed her hand, and lewdly cleaned her fingers off, watching her eyes darken once more as you made a point to swirl your tongue around them until they were clean.

As your brain fog cleared, you were all too aware of the uncomfortable silence growing around you. With every high that came with being with Agatha, it was almost always followed by an indescribable low. There were so many things you wanted to ask her, so many things you needed to know. Brief flashes of arguments and slamming doors. Dozens of unanswered calls, and late nights spent wondering what you had done wrong to deserve her random outbursts of anger. But with every argument, every heated fight, it would always end the same way; with Agatha pressing you against some surface and having her way with you.

There had been so much more going on at that point than you were aware of, and as the pieces slowly came together, she was too far gone for you to be able to help. You’d begged and pleaded with her, but it never mattered. What was it your therapist had said to you? You couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to help themselves. Letting go of her nearly killed you, and now you made the mistake of opening that door again, knowing how much more complicated it would be. You weren’t just her law student anymore, you were on opposing sides of a trial.

It appeared Agatha was having the same train of thought as you, for she wordlessly helped you find your clothes. In spite of her just being inside you, you made a point of turning around as you got dressed, as the air in the room seemed to drop and any of the warmth that had been there prior had disappeared. There was so much you wanted to say, yet simultaneously wanted to get as far away from her as you could.

Agatha finally broke the silence as she fixed her hair, and she was back to her usual condescending self. “You know you’re wrong pursuing this case, right? It’s not too late to back out.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally grabbed your phone from her back pocket and saw your Uber driver understandably canceled your ride. That would certainly tank your rating. You quickly ordered another before replying with, “You know this meant absolutely nothing to me, right?”

Pushing past her to exit the room, she let out another cackle, the sound like grating nails on a chalkboard in your ears. You knew she wouldn’t follow you, and you were thankful for that. This was an indiscretion, a momentary lapse of judgment. You’ve been on edge with all the extra hours you’ve been working; you weren’t thinking clearly. The courthouse was still relatively empty, and you left the building, trying to get the thought of Agatha out of your mind. Why did she have to be so infuriating?

Your Uber eventually rolled up and as you got in you went to check your work email. It never failed to amaze you how quickly your inbox would fill up when you didn’t check it for more than five minutes. Scrolling through, you vaguely listened to the music your driver had in in the background, until a familiar song started playing. Frank Sinatra, a favorite artist of a certain attorney. The Way You Look Tonight had always been one of her favorites, and you could remember the last time you listened to it together.

Your mind absentmindedly drifted, the memories you’d tried to lock away slowly creeping back up to the surface. It seemed no matter how hard you tried to forget, she didn’t want you to. Settling into your seat, listening to Frank Sinatra, you thought back to the first time you met Agatha, or rather, how you met Professor Harkness.

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