Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Escapism

AKA “How To Be A Heartbreaker” The Rewrite.

by Dulcet Shoujo

(Listen along with a playlist made just for this fic)

Art  commissioned from THE dindakai

Chapter Text

If a bird were to fly without spreading its wings, what would one consider that bird? Reckless–or perhaps just foolish. And maybe, that was what people saw when they looked at Marron Chestnut. But as she glanced at the bathroom mirror, the reflection that looked back was someone else.

Someone unlike her, who exuded the confidence she lacked, this person that had the wings she needed to soar. Her usual blonde hair was covered by a sleek brown wig, styled with curtain bangs and a form fitting glittery nude dress that glistened under the dim lights. The sound of a kickdrum thudded against the walls, the racket echoing in her skull aiding in numbing the thoughts that remained. 

Coming at her from her side was her friend Valese, a voluptuous brunette with a yellow bodycon dress and matching strappy heels appeared. Her tanned skin contrasted wonderfully against the mustard color. “So babe,” Valese’s arm hung over her shoulder, her green eyes observing the flushed makeup look Marron opted for. “What’s gonna be your name?”

And from the other side, Rulah, a woman with a crown of ebony coiled hair framing her face. The red two-piece dress complimenting her umber skin. “Ooh,” Rulah peered around the corner, her dark brown eyes staring at the woman in the center. “How about Soye?” 

“Soye?” Valese replied flatly, her index and middle finger wrapped around Marron’s hips, pulling her closer towards her. “I dunno, she doesn’t look like a Soye, maybe Chare?” Valese said as she held Marron’s face between her fingers, her green eyes boring into the shorter woman’s baby blue eyes.

Marron paused, her eyes flickering between the two women feeling a sense of helplessness between the two girls. These were her closest friends, her confidants– but also– the biggest pains in her asses. If the word “peer pressure” is in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of these two.

“How about Hazzel?” Marron responded, triggering a gleeful response from the other two women who nodded in unison. 

“OMG Mar– I mean…Hazzel…you are genius,” Valese squealed, holding her shoulders with a wide grin. “Let’s go let’s let loose for once, hm?”

“Our girl is newly single, and ready for some action–” Rulah snickered before Marron nudged her in the arm from the girl's ridiculousness, as the trio linked arms as they pulled the disguised blonde out of the restroom. Just as quickly the thud of the kickdrum now rang clearly inside her ears. 

Marron had made it her mission to begin a new season in her life. After her breakup with her ex, she feverishly applied for jobs in a city halfway across the continent, moving into an apartment she scraped together with the savings she managed to gather. But tonight wasn’t about Marron Chestnut, or her trials and tribulations. 

Tonight was about Hazzel. 

Hazzel strutted with her friends linked in her arms, their confident and cool gazes could stun the room in an instant. The synchronized click of their heels stopped as Rulah turned her head, her eyes wide as she turned to Valese. “Oh my gosh…my friend is here–let’s try to mooch off him,” she snickered a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Mooch?” Valese clicked her tongue. Her senses were high at the very thought of who the woman could be alluding to. “If it’s who I think–” 

“Oh re-lax , I’ll need a drink first,” Rulah laughed out, trying to talk above the blaring music as they walked over to the bar. Ordering each their own signature drink

Valese held her tequila sunrise, slowly sipping as she kept her eyes on Marron. “ So, Mar Mar, what's new with you?” Her question was a bit more pointed, it was true, all three of these women were friends back in Satan City–yet found themselves on the opposite side of the continent.

It was a question that made her sit with herself for a moment, what had her life evolved to in the past two months since she moved? It felt like two different people stood facing each other–the Marron of the past, who held herself back from the good in life. And Marron of the now, daring to step outside of her own comforts. “Honestly?” Marron chuckled as she glanced down to her strawberry daiquiri. “Got a new job with this big company, I start next month!”

“Good for you!” Rulah cheered, a toothy grin. “Our girl is single, employed and hot!”

Valese snickered at just how outwardly optimistic Rulah came off, her smile wide as she shook her head. Turning back over she tilted her head at her. “Is the pay good?”

“Hell yeah, more than just good,” Marron said as she took a sip of her drink. Her statement was true, especially for being a secretary to the President of such a company. Her time at La Mode working her god awful boss seemingly paid off.

“I was surprised when you said you were moving to West City,” Rulah shouted out, her arm hanging on her friend’s shoulder, “thought you were always going to be a Satan City girl.”

Marron sighed, that would have been the truth had her break up not been so terrible. Everything about Satan City reminded her of him. “I thought so too,” Marron replied, feigning amusement. “I’m just looking to have fun now— fuck a relationship.” She took a swig of her drink to punctuate her sentence.

Valese raised her cup to that statement, a cheer from both women following suit. “So what's the vibe?” she asked, nudging her on the arm

Marron pursed her lips, shrugging her shoulders as she glanced about the thumping club. “Having fun, if someone appears even better,” her statement was innocent enough, no true intentions were listed.

“Atta girl,” Valese cheered as she nudged her arm before looking back over to Rulah. “So this friend of yours Rulah,” Valese cautiously began, “is it who I think…?”

Rulah nearly burst out into a fit of laughter, her hand splayed against her friend’s back. “Lighten up Val,” Rulah snickered. “Yeah it's him.”

Valese rolled her eyes at the revelation of who exactly it was. “Ugh, half of West City has slept with him,” she said in disgust.

Immediately, there was an intrigue to Marron. “Half?” Her brows flew up, a slight squeak in her voice.

There was a hiss that came from the two other women, almost cringing at the certain doom of Marron’s curiosity.“You are exaggerating, Val.” Rulah rubbed the back of her neck. “Besides none of us have, right?”

“I almost did,” Valese chimed in, making Rulah’s head spin.

“What?!” Rulah’s voice was at a shrill note, “You did not tell me that, spill now .”

There was a silence that hung between the women momentarily. Rulah and Marron’s eyes overly attentive as they watched Valese sip her drink. “ Um , not much to spill,” Valese let out an awkward but loud laugh, “he asked if I wanted to do it and I said no .”

“You’re so boring,” Rulah replied, sticking out her tongue at the brunette. “But good on you, sticking to your principles.”

“Thanks ,” Valese snorted before her eyes sliding over to Marron with a warning glazed over her gaze. “Mar, stay far away from him at all costs,” she warned. It was for Marron’s own good really, but Valese could already see the gears turning in her head as she sipped her drink.

Liquid courage was useful in moments like this. “He sounds fun,” Marron cheekily replied.

Valese’s eyes widened at her response, panic gripping her voice. “ Hell no!”

Marron was slightly taken aback by Valese’s response…there must be a good reason she was so against it. But that made her all the more curious. If they didn’t want her digging around and finding out herself–why create such an intrigue around this man? 

Marron scoffed, as she finished her drink. “C’mon guys you think I’m stupid, guy sounds like a red flag,” she said in an attempt to laugh off the sudden tenseness in their conversation.

“Oh speaking of…” Rulah turned her head towards the roped off section, “someone’s got to pay for our drinks.” She snickered as she spotted her target.

“Rulah, no I can pay–” Valese shouted behind her.

However Rulah couldn’t hear Valese over the thumping beats that started to play, her playfulness had become utterly contagious as she pulled the two other women along with her towards the roped off section. And behind all that mystery and red velvet was a figure of a man hidden in plain sight.

“Trunks!” Rulah exclaimed as she waved over to the man who sat slouched over on the chaise,  his rolled up sleeves showing off vascular tan forearms, and a half buttoned up black shirt. Marron could feel her senses being re-wired, there was something distinctly domineering about his aura. 

This was a different caliber of a man that sat in front of her, and she’d never seen anything like it. With looks that she genuinely believes could kill, he seemed unapproachable—nay, untouchable. Against her better judgment she pushed herself forward, she wanted to be seen by someone.

“Who’s your friend Rulah?” His eyes clung onto Marron. He usually didn’t have a thing for a woman like her, but he couldn’t simply ignore the slice of heaven that was presented right before him. Her seemingly innocent crystal blue eyes met with his dark blues, immediately he knew he was destined to have her before the night was over.

But he hadn’t the slightest idea of what awaited him.

“Oh..” Rulah cautiously looked over to Marron. Getting mixed up with Trunks would be no good for Marron, even if it was just a casual glance right now…it was a song and dance she’d seen too much with him… there was a certain reputation he upheld. He was a good lay from what she heard. But could Marron, or this Hazzel persona handle him without folding? She was so recently out of heartache it was a dangerous game to play.  

Marron wasn’t going to let her friend stop her from having any fun, even if the decision wasn’t wise…it had been solely Marron’s to make. This bird was spreading her wings. “Hazzel,” Marron responded, a smirk forming on the corner of her plump lips. 

She could play his game. Her eyes analyzed the open position he sat in, his arms laying against the top of the seat–the disheveled party boy look, with fancy leather shoes and a casual white v-neck adorned by gold chains. A wily fox was now in the midst…and had set its sights for the flightless bird.

Rulah leaned over to Marron, “do not go for him…he’s not worth it,” her whisper forewarned her. But Marron  paid no mind to it, she had a different idea altogether, as she cast a knowing glance to the two other girls. Knowing her fate was sealed the minute her eyes met with his.

“Hazzel,” he said to himself, almost tasting her name in his mouth as he stood up, approaching the woman tentatively. Valese’s hand itched to stop him from getting any closer but it was far too late for them both, as they’ve begun the song and dance of the predator and prey.

Trunks watched her, his eyes glinting with intrigue. “Do you know who I am?” He asked, his arms crossed standing a few heads taller than the shorter woman.

She was looking up at him with a soft smile on her plump lips, a scoff coming from her. This “Trunks” was cocky too? What did he have fame on top of all that too? All the better. “Is that important?” She asked, forgetting the other people in the room as her gaze fixed on him.

Trunks seemed amused by the response, enough to chuckle in surprise that this woman didn’t know who he was. “ No , not really,” he smirked, “Just surprised that you don’t.”

“Good, then I don’t need to know,” Marron replied back, feeling as if she was pulled into him by a simple glance, or had it been the other way around? It was like a highly effective lure, and at this point the lull of attraction had been far too strong.

He wanted to know more of this little nymph, her coy smile seemed all too tempting. More than he’d been accustomed to resist. It beguiled him to go after her. “Then do you want to dance?” His eyes were watching her intently as his hands found themselves at her hips.

His touch felt like a blazing fire, but Marron felt protected behind this persona. There was no way she’d be smizing up this hunk of a man without the protection of knowing she wasn’t herself tonight. “I dunno, are you good at dancing?” She replied back, her hungry eyes observing him.

“Oh, I’m the best,” he responded, a flash of perfectly white teeth as his tongue played with the sharp white canines of his mouth. He had her.

“Lead the way then,” she replied back, a finger hooked under his chain as she pulled him closer. She had him.

His arm slung over Marron’s shoulder as she cautiously glanced back at the women who watched helplessly as their close friend waltzed towards a certain disaster. Or, perhaps that’s what Marron wanted them to think. 

“Shit, we should probably…” Rulah’s voice dropped as Valese’s hand held out.

“Let her,” Valese leaned over to Rulah, attempting to speak over the bass. “She’s a smart cookie, let’s let her do her thing.”

And once more Marron found herself immersed in the world he carved out for her. Trunks completely captured her attention and held her hostage by his gaze. His hands held her small waist, fingers ghosting atop her hips as the beat carried them. Bodies moving rhythmically to the beat of the song. A  bass was so strong that it reverberated through both of their bodies, it thudded in their chest hiding the deafening decibels of their heartbeats.

Holding her body close, they practically breathed each other in, and it had become clear to the passing stranger that no one could break the spell one had on the other.

At a point, the sensations got lost between the liquor, the heat and their dance partner. The mixture of her perfume and his cologne was thick in the air, much like a plume of their two auras blending together. Trunks watched in awe at how easily this little thrill of a challenge continued to press him. All was blending together, the sensation of her hands against his body, and his on hers.

Trunks found himself increasingly curious with every passing second. What did she feel like when they became one. Trunks found his hands tracing her figure in curiosity, and Hazzel relishing in his touch. Desires were aligned “Let’s get out of here,” his voice gruff against her ear.

His tone elicited a response from her she hadn’t quite expected, her facade nearly dropping before she was able to pick herself back up to her persona. “Let’s…” she whispered back as the two ducked between the thickets of people, and found themselves out.

Marron felt as he pulled her into the room, her body aching for more as she felt his hard body collide against hers against the mattress. She could have – in theory — ditched him a while ago. She had the thrill of the chase satiated but the raw sexual energy that oozed off of him was too much for her to bear. And rather than sit alone at home, she craved the escapade.

“Y’know, I don’t usually go for brunettes,” he replied breathlessly as he desperately pulled off his shirt from him, exposing a build that could make any woman’s mouth water. “But something about you,” he muttered against her thighs, as his eyes nearly rolled from the delicious scent of her sex took over his sense of smell. 

“Don’t think so hard about it,” Marron whispered, glancing back at him, her chest rising and dropping with every breath. “Just fuck me.”

Trunks glanced up at her, a smirk laced on his lips at her attitude. “So demanding,” he muttered as his fingers slid along the soaked panties. “Do you get off bossing guys like me around?”

“Hn?” Marron began, her half lidded eyes watched him with fascinating trepidation. “Someone so big and strong like you doesn’t like being bossed around?” She hissed as her hips rocked gently against his fingers

“Oh I loathe it,” Trunks purred back, his lips slowly traveling down her stomach. “It’s a curse…I like my girls with a little feistiness,” he groaned back, his fingers finding the zipper that held the dress together. 

Marron pushed him on his back, as her hand stroked the crotch of his underwear, feeling his hard cock beneath her fingertips. “And I like my men quiet and obedient ,” she whispered back thick black lashes fluttering. “You think you can manage that?”

Trunks was admittedly thrown off by her tone, but there was a sheer thrill that came over him at such a forward woman. The glint in his eyes of a challenge that awaited him..and the thrill of a woman who dared attempt to match him.

“I don’t know,” his voice twinkled in delight, his calloused hands running along her backside, gripping her tightly as he hoisted himself up. “You’re too tempting,” his lips traveled along her neck, her chest. His body aching for her touch. 

He never ached for something like that before. But Hazzel was dizzying and mystifying, turning everything he knew about himself on his head. He listened to her soft trill, watching as her skin erupted into a thousand goosebumps across her skin. What an interesting little creature he’d gotten his hands on this evening.

Marron simply allowed him to do all he pleased, his touch was a welcome stranger—allowing her to feel more free by the passing second.

What harm was there? She was already heartbroken, what could this attractive man do that her partner didn’t already do? Break her heart again? She’d been through the ringer once before, a night of fun shouldn’t cause her ruin.

She wanted to escape the feelings that were borrowed within her, and maybe this man, this night…was her escape. Besides, she was Hazzel tonight, not Marron. 

“Then what are you waiting for?” Her voice was a velvety melody in his ears, making him melt at the feel of her soft lips against the tips of his ears. “Can you handle it?” Her voice was teasing him, just a bit too much for him.

Trunks had the words hanging off of his lips, eyes filled with a certain delighted thrill as she slowly let her bra strap fall to the side. 

Just who was she?

Chapter Text

Trunks stretched languidly, the soft, white morning light bathing into the room. As his gaze shifted over to find an empty spot beside him, a pang of unexpected disappointment twisted in his chest, the bed felt cold where her warmth should have lingered. All that was left behind was the faint scent of their sex, teasing his senses.

His fingers brushed over the frigid sheets, the sound of her moans still encapsulated within the confines of his memory. As his head lifted up, his eyes analyzed the room to find not even a single trace of their midnight escapade.

“Man…” Trunks chuckled, a rueful smile on his lips as he pushed the hair out of his face, his gaze unbreaking with the ceiling as he tried to steady his heartbeat as the memories from the night before flooded him. Even for a one night stand, she was a hypnotic force to be reckoned with. He hadn’t ever met someone who challenged him the way she had.

He rose from the bed, letting the sheets hit the floor. His sculpted nude form bathing in the morning light. He could feel a familiar soreness in his loins. He certainly overdid it this time, just how many times did they go at it?

Trunks sighed as he turned towards the restroom, and found in his own reflection a pathetic, desiring man haunted by the abandonment of a woman. It didn’t sit quite right with him, he was Trunks Briefs…he was the richest and hottest shit out there and still, despite that he found himself irritated at her lack of tact.

Or perhaps it was that she left without a trace? Or maybe, it was the fact that his temptress had not a single care in the world for who he was…and wasn’t even curious to find out.

More torturously, Trunks was itching to find out who she was. He wanted more information on the woman who ran out on him and put his head into a tailspin. Intimate images of the night prior trickled into his mind, the two of them went at it for seemingly hours at end.

The cool water from the tap was a welcomed relief to his heated skin as memories of the previous evening played over and over in his mind. The sight of her back arched like a kitten…surrendering to the hazy veil of lust. He hadn’t bothered to learn her face, as he did with most of his partners…and yet, her body was etched to his memory.

Trunks held the atlas to her curves that he discovered with his lips. His tongue traversed across a masterpiece of a body. Creating an amalgamation of pleasure and ecstasy on her body, he knew it to be true with every gentle, fervent moan she allowed to escape past those plump lips.

He left reminders of his territory along her porcelain skin. He turned on the faucet, allowing the cool water to drip down his neck settling between the grooves of his muscular body.

He was determined to find who exactly she was and how she had the gall to leave him in such a state. Trunks’ eyes shifted to his phone.

Perhaps his answers were closer than he anticipated.

Marron slumped against her apartment door, the cool wood pressing into her heated skin as she slid towards the floor. The brown wig she donned slipped off to reveal a neckline peppered with reminders of her sexual escape for the evening. Her eyes lingered on the pair of heels that she just kicked off.

Just whose bright idea was to sport cheap six inch heels at the club?

The answer was Marron, clearly.

She had to hand it to Rulah; the wig stayed secured in place through what may have been the most insane one night stand of her life without any sign of it coming off. With just the lightest tug at the wig cap, she freed her blonde hair, letting the golden tresses tumble down her back.

Easing onto a stool by the kitchen island, Marron winced as a dull ache settled between her hips. No thanks to the intensity of the evening prior. Her bleary, hungover eyes drifted towards the final reminder of her previous lover. A charm bracelet that sat idly by on her counter top.

She never could quite get rid of it. Each charm represented a place she and her ex visited—a relic to the days where she believed in the notion of true love. And though this man had thoroughly broken her, she clung to the bracelet as if it were some kind of life lifeline.

In some pathetic hope that he would love her once again.

In these desolate times, she craved nothing more than an uncommitted fuck, a little venture into chaos and fun. And last night had become just that, a distraction to let her forget…if only for a few hours.

But when the light shines through the windows of her high-rise apartment it only helped to illuminate the same lonesome feeling that nagged at her. The feeling that she was truly alone once more. No matter the distance, and no matter the city the feeling of being alone remained.

The longer she dwelled on it, the more her rage simmered. The resentment of what he dared to do to her was a constant reminder of the wound of betrayal. Marron hardly spoke of it, but the fact her life had arrived to this point was not much of a surprise anymore. She seemed to always have a cursed streak when it came to love.

So much so, she has sworn off on the idea of it.

What good comes from expecting anything better from a man?

Marron’s phone was lighting up with notifications from Rulah and Valese. Questions of where she was, and how the night ended up rolling. Marron smirked at their concern, it seemed they were just a bit too concerned with Marron getting swept away in the casanova’s charm.

Sure, he was hot—West CIty was full of hot men. But this man, he was something else. He was rather dexterous with his fingers, guiding her to reach a point she had never reached before. Not even by her lonesome on curious nights.

She bit her lip, a shiver running down her spine as the memory resurfaced of his chiseled form in the darkness of that bedroom. An unattainable, fantastical fuck he was— she wasn’t going to see him again, so what’s the harm in savoring the memory?

A month passed since his escapade with a mystery brunette he found at the club. To be frank, she'd been maddeningly elusive since that day. No social media to be able to find, no public records, nothing.

But as much as he wanted to wrack his brain on how to find her. Trunks had far bigger concerns.

“A new assistant?”

Trunks looked up from his relaxed and slouched position at the woman who stood in front of him. She had sleek blue hair,and a crisp tailored navy blue dress that evoked femininity and power. His mother, the chairwoman of Capusle Corporation, Bulma Briefs. Though dainty and small in comparison to him, still held a strangling hold over him.

And one of the few people he still strived to please.

Bulma scoffed, her arms folded across her chest as she looked her son up and down. His leather loafers were placed atop the sleek marble desk. His suit jacket hanging over the back of his seat, his shirt was unbuttoned a button or two lower than professionally acceptable. His disheveled state was more telling to the concerned mother…

“You need someone to keep you in line, and I think I found the perfect person for the job,” Bulma said with a clipped voice, dusting her hands off satisfactorily. “I don’t have time to babysit my son to make sure he gets his damn job done.”

Trunks groaned, as he dropped his feet from the desk. “Oh come on— you let Soye go?” He wasn’t too sad, though she may have been a great distraction for him…she certainly didn’t seem to get the job. Seemingly more concerned with pleasuring him than telling him when he was out of line.

“You bet your ass I fired her—Trunks… do you not have any decorum?” Bulma’s voice was just the slightest bit shrill, as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “I have cameras in the meeting rooms, you know.”

He froze for a moment, forcing out a nervous laugh. “It’s not my fault,” Trunks lamented with a pout adorning his lips, “I have my gorgeous mother’s beautiful looks.”

Bulma would applaud his performance, it was a page directly out of her book. “Nice try, kid,” she scoffed as she sat down on his chair, “but before you there was me.”

“Worth a shot,” Trunks muttered as he leaned back on the chair in defeat. “So when does the old crone start?”

“She’s sitting outside the office right now,” Bulma stated matter-of-factly, heading to open the office door “Ms. Chestnut, come in here and introduce yourself.”

The door creaked open and in walked Marron Chestnut.

Trunks straightened his position as he took a moment to take in her appearance, curiosity piqued. Her blonde hair slicked back into a low bun. Her outfit was a masterclass in monotony: black, flowy slacks, a tight brown turtle, thin gold framed glasses and a tailored black blazer. Everything about her screamed professionalism and severe restraint.

But what really made him stop, was how her eyes glimmered with an interesting gleam before pulling away.

He couldn’t place it, but there was a flicker of familiarity teasing him about this woman, her face and posture was an unidentifiable memory nagging him in the back of his mind.

But the amount of escapades he’s had, she truly could have been just about anyone.

Marron’s stomach churned, feeling like she was going to keel over any moment from the revelation. An alarm blared in her mind as memories from their one night stand. This is why he asked her if she knew who he was. Not only was he the CEO to one of the biggest companies in the planet, but he was her boss.

The sheer panic was turning her blood acidic, feeling as her heartbeat was resoundingly loud in her chest. He slept with her, but the lights were dim, maybe he won’t recognize her…

“Hello…my name is Marron Chestnut,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Trunks tilted his head, his eyes narrowing on her as he scrutinized her. There was something hauntingly familiar, but he couldn’t quite match it. She was so stiff, almost robotic and seemingly trying to fade into the backdrop. This wasn’t his type, at all.

“Well, Ms. Chestnut,” Trunks said, clearing his throat, “my name is Trunks Briefs, but I am sure you already knew that.”

“Yes,” Marron replied, her tone even suppressing a twitch of her brow. She glanced over to Bulma, silently begging her to end this awkward interaction. “I am sure your previous assistants had meticulous and rigorous maintenance of your daily schedule and I intend to keep and exceed in that department.”

“Yes, you have some…” he scanned her figure one final time, unable to find it within himself to feel attraction towards anything “big shoes to fill.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Bulma interjected with a light laugh, sensing the tension that was between them, he is just trying to mess with you,” Bulma laughed lightly to bridge the tense energy she detected between Marron and him. Despite it, Marron seemed to be the perfect fit. For one, her son wasn’t outwardly trying to flirt and schmooze his way to her heart.

She had a strong sense her new hire would report any and all suspicious behavior.

“Trunks, Ms. Chestnut will be shown around the building this week as she gets acclimated to her new environment,” Bulma noted, her manicured hands gently resting on Marron’s back. “Be a good boy and show her around if she has questions, okay?”

“Please never call me that again,” Trunks muttered through gritted teeth, his gaze flickering towards Marron.

Before there was another response, Bulma nudged her and exited the room, leaving her alone in the office with him.

The silence was suffocating. At least with Soye there was conversation!

Marron adjusted her glasses, her fingers trembling slightly as she pushed them up the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Briefs,” she began, her gaze focused on his shoulder rather than his face directly. “I did not expect to be working under someone so young.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” she stumbled over her words, nervous to make any kind of mistake. “I can adapt to any circumstance.”

Trunks raised a brow, leaning forward slightly as he looked at the resume his mother put on his desk. “Your resume says you have been an executive assistant for Nylon—that asshole.”

A slight crack in her facade, he was using profanities with her already? “Yeah, I did.”

“Yeah, a real piece of work,” Trunks muttered, more to himself than to her. “Well, given that my mother fired my favorite assistant for you—I got high expectations.”

Marron bit back her lip, holding back her sharp tongue. Her expression was perfectly neutral on the exterior. “You will not be disappointed, sir,” she said curtly.

WIth every passing moment that Trunks interacted with her, the more irritated he was growing. There was something so grating about her. The monotone voice she used, her guarded demeanor—it was a front to cover something, but what? Yet, when her eyes met his, a strange feeling stirred in chest.

Her eyes were striking, and an impossibly bright blue. They irritated him, as did the subtlety in her avoidance of his gaze mere moments.

“Ms. Chestnut,” he stood up abruptly, signaling this conversation was done, I’ll be glad to show you around the office tomorrow—I do have work to attend to but do let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” Marron replied, clutching her clipboard tightly,

As she turnedto leave his office, Trunks leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his silky hair. Something about her was bothering him, nagging incessantly at that sense of familiarity that he couldn’t rip from his thoughts.

But for now, he decided he would let it go.

And for Marron, as she made her way to her desk, silently prayed Trunks never remembered.

Marron groaned as she pushed her apartment door shut behind her, leaning against it for just a moment as it felt like the weight of the world had followed her home. She dropped her bag towards the ground with a dull thud, kicking off her heels in the process with a frustrated grunt,

Today couldn’t have been any worse, the one where everything you tried to avoid seemed to come crashing against you. A taunt to think you could enjoy yourself a little with no circumstance.

Had she tried not to be bold—different for once in her sad little life—she maybe could have avoided this entire ordeal. But no, she had to unknowingly sleep with the hottest man in the room, who just so happened to be her boss.

Marron dragged a hand through her hair, sighing loudly. A smoldering, magnetic man she admired from a far and safe enough distance—that’s all he should’ve been. A harmless little fantasy that she could play our in her head during a painfully boring meeting or a glass of wine late at night.

Not a genuine living, breathing achingly good memory that lingered long in her body long after it should have faded.

But God, he is such a good lay. Her cheeks flushed even thinking of how primal she could get beneath the facade of a secret identity, how raw sex could really be? Her ex certainly didn’t fit that bill, he didn’t have her thinking about it for weeks on end.

Not that it even mattered, because doing it again with him would mean certain death. He didn’t remember her face anyway, she could have just been another notch on his very used bedpost. And the thought of that alone bothered her more than she cared to admit.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, snapping out of her spiraling thoughts, fishing it out and saw Rulah’s name flashing on the screen. This would be a good enough distraction.

“Hey girl,” Marron answered, as she wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder, heading towards the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter, inspecting the label as if she were going to find any solution or solace in the red liquid.

“Girl…” Rulah's voice was oozing pure impish mischief. Marron didn’t even need to see her face to know she was grinning from ear to ear.

Marron popped the cork with a satisfying pop and rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, Rulah whatever it is no, I do not need this tonight.”

“Wait wait— let me go first,” Rulah said, her words practically tumbling out of her.

Marron poured herself a generous glass of wine and headed towards her couch. “Alright, what is it?”

“So…” Rulah began, her words dragging for a flair of dramatic effect. “Remember my friend? The one I introduced you to?”

Marron froze mid-sip, her stomach doing a very slow and unpleasant flip. “Rulah…” her voice teeming with a sense of warning.

“Yeah well…he asked for your number,” Rulah said, the giddiness in her tone bubbling over. “So I gave him it!”

The glass of wine nearly slipped from her fingers. She set it down on the coffee table, tightening her lips together. “Rulah. You didn’t.”

“What? I thought you thought the sex was good!” Rulah shot back, unbothered by the rising panic in Marron’s voice.

“He’s my boss, Rulah!” Marron groaned, rubbing her temples–as if that will resolve the knowing tension he could find out who she is easily now if she wasn’t careful. “This is the man who signs my checks, The man who decides if I get a promotion or fired. THAT boss.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Marron could practically hear Rulah processing the information.

“…Wait. What? He’s your what?!” Rulah’s voice shot up an octave.

Marron sighed, sinking back into the couch. “He’s my boss. The CEO of Capsule Corporation. You know, the company I just started at?”

Rulah gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me you worked for Capsule Corp? You know I would’ve stopped you!”

“Oh, yeah, because this is all my fault,” Marron muttered, reaching for her wine glass again. “How was I supposed to know my best friend was friends with my boss? And for the record, he’s a dick.”

“You like that, though,” Rulah teased, her tone light and smug.

Marron groaned. “You are so not helpful right now.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Rulah asked.

Before Marron could answer, her phone buzzed with a new message. She glanced at the screen, and her breath caught in her throat. The text was short, but the implication was crystal clear.

“Thought you could slip past me? Come over and finish what you started.”

Her stomach flipped again, but this time it wasn’t just anxiety. It was something darker, hotter, more dangerous. Marron stared at his message, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Hello? Marron?” Rulah’s voice broke through the silence.

Marron swallowed hard, her mind racing. She had no idea what to say, or where this was about to go.

Marron’s voice dropped into a nervous whisper, as if saying it any louder might make it more real. “He just texted me…”

Rulah gasped on the other end of the line. “Oh my God. What did he say?”

Marron hesitated, staring at her phone as if it might bite her. “He, uh…” She cleared her throat. “He wants to meet up.”

“Wait a minute, hold up. Meet up as in coffee? Or meet up as in—”

Marron cut her off, her words tumbling out in a rush. “As in I’m-pretty-sure-he’s-wants-to-go-for round-two-three-and-four-tonight.”

There was a long pause before Rulah’s cackle filled the line. “Oh, girl. Are you gonna tell him?”

Marron’s heart jumped at the thought. Expose her little game she was playing with this man? Not if her life depended on it. She would much rather chew on glass than let this pompous ass get anything on her.

“Fuck no,” she hissed, gripping her wine glass like it was a lifeline. “I’m not about to ruin my brand new job and have him know exactly who I am, he’d probably fire me on the spot.”

Rulah snorted. “So what are you gonna do?”

Marron bit her lip, staring down at the lewd message on her phone. Her thumb hovered over the screen like it had a mind of its own. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Maybe?!” Rulah sounded incredulous. “Girl, you can’t even figure out how to put a wig on. How do you plan on disguising yourself for this little rendezvous?”

Marron groaned, burying her face in her free hand. “Shit. You’re right.”

Rulah’s tone turned mischievous. “Hold on, neighbor. Don’t you dare do anything dumb. I’m comin’ over.”

Marron blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait, what? Rulah, it’s late! And I don’t need—”

“Oh, hush. You absolutely need me. We’re either figuring out a plan to fix this mess or getting drunk enough that you won’t care. Either way, I’m not letting you spiral alone. I’ll be there in five.”

The line went dead before Marron could argue. She stared at her phone, her stomach churning. On one hand, she could ignore the message, block his number, and pretend that she never slept with him. On the other hand… she glanced at the text again, heat creeping up cheeks

Her phone buzzed again, and her breath was trapped in her throat. Another text from him. She opened it reluctantly not realizing he could see right as she read it.

“I know you’re thinking about it, you love a challenge. I’ll see you soon.”

Marron exhaled sharply, grabbing her wine glass and downing the rest in one go. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. But as the wine settled in her chest, her resolve was set.

Marron now knew full and well who this man was, there was no skirting around the indisputable, inconvenient fact that she had sex with her boss. And knowing that made every moment with him infinitely more dangerous. She desperately needed to make a clean break for her sanity’s sake. What good would it do her to continue with this little charade?

Was good sex worth losing a handsome salary? Her stability? Her mind? Certainly not.

Or that’s what she told herself but she was no infallible angel. Temptation sunk its claws into her and dragged her before she had a chance to resist.

Which was why, rather than maintaining resolve in the face of her ultimate weakness, she found her nude body pressed up against the frigid glass of Trunks Briefs penthouse. Bearing her fully nude body with the glittering city of West CIty as her backdrop.

Her reflection caught her attention briefly, her skin flush and her body raw, but the attention was arrested by the man standing behind her—Trunks Fucking Briefs. Impeccably dressed, his suit tailored to perfection and his dark eyes alight with predatory intent.

“Did you like running away from me like that?” Trunks murmured, his gravelly voice low against her ear. His finger trailed down her spine, lingeringing on the curve of her hip, sliding lower to feel the plumpness of her rear.

Marron’s breath hitched at the contact. She couldn’t believe she was in this situation again, out of her own volition no less. How he couldn’t recognize her was beyond her, but she figured there was no harm in keeping the charade if he couldn’t figure out it was her.

“I didn’t run,” she bit out, her voice far steadier than she anticipated.

Trunks gave a quiet, dark chuckle. His minty breath brushed against her skin as he leaned even closer. “No? That’s funny—I remember waking up to an empty bed certainly felt like abandonment.”

Her lips opened for a moment but no response came. Instead, she felt the soft graze of his lips against her shoulder blade as he grasped her breasts, his fingers gently rolling over her pert nipples that ached for more than just gentle teasing.

She held her breath as she felt a fire stir through her. She was heavily resisting his teasing, letting the softest of mewls past her lips.

"You know, Hazzel” he continued, his voice carrying a heavy amusement and frustration in its tone, “leaving me high and dry like that? That’s just plain rude.”

Marron tilted her head slightly as her gaze flicked from her breasts to the reflection of him in the glass. His sharp features were illuminated by faint city lights, his expression dark but she saw the electric blue in his eyes that was lit with an insatiable hunger.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” She countered, keeping herself towing the line between soft and defiant.

Trunks’ response was a light tap against her rear, accompanied with a throaty chuckle that sent chills across her entire body. “Here now,” he echoed back, his lips now against the crook of her neck, The scent of her perfume inundated his senses, delicious notes of vanilla…he could eat her right then and there if he could. “But will you vanish on me again?” That vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. Did he slip, or was that intentional?

Marron began to hesitate, her fingers toying with the edge of his tie. “I can’t make any promises,” she stated, her voice quiet but firm. “But we can have some fun, just for tonight.”

“In that case,” Trunks paused, as his hand found itself on his pants zipper, “kneel.”

Chapter Text

Two entire weeks.

Marron had survived two entire weeks at Capsule Corporation.

And today was the first day of finally getting into the weeds of managing the mess of a schedule that is her boss’ schedule. After an extremely brief training stint with the Chairwoman’s assistant, the responsibility was resting solely on her shoulders.

Here’s the problem with Trunks Briefs—never mind that he is charming and charismatic, and infuriatingly attractive…he was irresponsible and reckless. Rather than treating his office like the headquarters of a multi billion dollar company, he used it as his personal playground where he invited a steady rotation of women throughout all hours of the day.

It was actually quite a feat how he found enough time to indulge in such debauchery and still managed to turn a profit by the end of the quarter,

Marron’s desk was situated directly outside of the gargantuan oak doors of his office, giving her an uninterrupted view of everyone who came and went from his office. She didn’t even need to look up to know what was happening.

As she scrolled through his schedule, she attempted to make sense of the chaos. What exactly had his previous assistant been doing all day? There were no details, appointments were scattered about haphazardly with massive gaps between his meetings.

No wonder he had so much time for philandering with all these women.

Marron grit her teeth as she massaged the bridge of her nose. She wished for nothing more than to tell him off, tell him what a joke it was that he even had an assistant…the typical spunky quips Marron usually fabricated—but that would require looking him in the eye.

And after that night, she refused to do so.

Since that evening in his penthouse, she had avoided him like the plague. Every ounce of willpower was solely dedicated to ensuring that their eyes absolutely never met. The last thing she needed was to remember the feeling of his lips traversing down her body, or his ragged and hot breath brushing against her neck.

The thought alone made her body flash with sudden heat.

What ate at her more, was the fact he hadn’t reached out to “Hazzel” after that evening. Which was for the best because the last thing she needed was to fall into another trap of temptation with him. But, even if he didn’t—it’s not like Marron didn’t know what he’d been up to.

She is his assistant, after all. She had his schedule from the moment he awoke until the moment he left.

The hefty office doors creaked open, Marron’s eyes didn’t even bother looking up as another woman slipped out, dressed in something so tight, and so short that it barely counted as business casual.

A tight skirt and tight button up blouse, high heels that were far too high and a toxic plume of perfume.

She really didn’t even need to look because she already knew.

Another woman with black hair.

For the past two weeks, it seemed Mr. Briefs continuously invited women with deep, black hair—unnatural or natural, it seemed that part was inconsequential to him.

Though arguably, to Marron could tell they were primarily unnatural, their roots were a tell every time. Marron clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus on the screen in front of her. It’s not her business nor her problem what her boss’ sexual preferences were.

Trunks followed out a few minutes later, rolling his shoulders in a satisfied stretch as he strode toward her desk. He paused directly in front of it, his eyes analyzing the meticulous organization his new assistant had of her items. He leaned on her desk, placing both of his hands flat on the desk.

“How’s the schedule looking?” His tone was casual, but it was obvious to Marron that his intent was not. It was a bid for her attention.

Marron barely flicked her gaze up to him, clicking through the appointment books on her monitor. “If I can be frank, Mr Briefs—”

“Please do,” He gestured for her to continue, the corners of his lips lifting slightly when he noticed the slightest twitch on her brow.

“This schedule is an absolute disaster,” she said dryly, her eyes stuck on the screen. “We are not utilizing your time efficiently. Additionally there are far too many gaps that allow for…idle distractions.”

Trunks smirked. “Idle distractions?”

Marron chose to ignore the glitter of amusement in his voice, clicking through the calendar once more. “That’s correct, if we reorganize your meetings to cut down on wasted time we can maximize your productivity.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Primarily, because he was not listening to what she was saying.

What was fully arresting his attention was the way she actively avoided him, It was getting to him how unwilling this woman was wanting to engage with him in any way.

Every other assistant he’d ever had always fell into the same behavioral patterns—first the casual flirtatious gaze, then casual conversations and stroking his ego, and finally vying for his attention. This woman, however, was a total conundrum. She treated him like an obligation.

That was what was irritating him to no end.

His eyes flicked down to her shapeless clothes, the loose fit of her slacks and baggy blazer obscured her figure. He knows there’s something she’s not telling nor showing, no one willingly dresses themselves in ill fitted clothes like that. She was trying to seem invisible.

But just then his eyes settled on her face.

This was the closest he’s ever stood to her, her annoyed cerulean blues stubbornly avoided his gaze. Plump and impossibly pink lips, slightly getting gnawed on by her teeth. A tiny nose that crinkled at her displeasure and disapproval.

It was on the tip of his tongue, everything about her was like a sense of deja vu.

“You know, Ms. Chestnut,” Trunks cleared his throat as he straightened his jacket out, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He leaned forward, his voice dipping in volume. “As my assistant, you should strive to look more…”

Marron’s fingers stilled from her ferocious typing. Then, at long last, she lifted her gaze to meet his. ”More what, Mr Briefs?” Her voice was calm, unnervingly so as her expression was undecipherable.

For the first time since she began working there, she looked at him directly and held the gaze.

And for some strange reason, it threw him off. Trunks attempted to speak at first, but his breath escaped him. His typical easy charm and confidence faltered as he swallowed hard. His throat was suddenly overwhelmingly dry.

“...Forget it,” he muttered as he turned away.

Marron didn’t utter a word, but as she watched him walk back into his office she could feel his frustration still lingering in the air. She sighed, shaking her head with a small, self satisfactory smirk.

If he wants her to pay attention to him, he will have to work a lot harder.

Trunks arrived at his penthouse, tugging at his necktie as he stepped into the pristine, sterile space he called his home. The dim lighting cast sharp shadows against the sleek surfaces—everything in his apartment was in perfect order, far too perfect. The coldness of it all was unnerving. It was like he lived in a museum of the past, rather than a home.

Trunks slipped out of his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of his couch. Rolling his shoulders as he attempted to set himself free from the tension that settled between his back. His fingers worked impatiently to undo the buttons of his button-down, freeing his body from the suffocating grip that his clothes had on his wrists and neck.

The glittering backdrop of West City was his only solace of a promise of maybe finding what would help fill the void in his chest. The neon haze of artificial light, the sound of human beings, being…well, human…it gave him the slightest glimmer of quiet peace.

His gaze flickered to the bar cart, where rows of expensive liquor gleamed beneath the low lights. Sex and alcohol, the only two things that dulled the gnawing loneliness he felt. The only vices that kept the memory of her out for the past three years.

The thought of it was still far too much to fathom, it’d been three entire years since his entire life was upended, and yet even still…the ache remained, the void remained.

So he continued to bide his time, filling his sleepless nights with women who reminded him of her. All were a cheap substitute, a temporary fix that he never felt truly worked.

All, except one.

Trunks exhaled sharply, walking towards the bar. His hand grabbing a bottle of brandy and an empty glass, pouring himself a drink and watching the amber liquid glisten with the reflection of the West City light reflected in the glass.

The entire world sat in this cup.

He took a slow sip, savoring the flavor as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

No matter how many women he kissed, no matter how many lithe bodies of women filled his bed, the ache remained. The weight of the mistakes of one’s youth—the ghosts of what could have been.

The loneliness that never quite left him.

That’s what upset him about Hazzel, she left him. Every woman he’d ever slept with, clung to him, desired more, asking and begging for just one more night. But she walked away, without an ounce of hesitation.

But when he was with her, when those eyes locked on to him it was like nothing else mattered. Her eyes so deep and all consuming looked at him like he was the only thing in the universe. He had never experienced anything of the sort.

Hazzel’s voice still lingered in the room, circling around his mind like a melody he could not forget. For the first time in a very long time, she almost made him forget about his ex-fiancee.

And Trunks wasn’t sure if that was something he could handle.

Three years ago

Trunks’ gaze fixated on the blinking red light that stared directly back at him. Slow, shallow breaths followed each step as his head dodged the beams that shot towards him. If it didn’t almost kill him it wasn’t good enough.

Being good enough was all he cared to do, and all he cared to be. As the heat from the gravity chamber intensified more and more, he could feel as his legs bucked at the feel of his own weight.

The art of battle was a sophisticated and complex one. He relished in his ancestral bloodlust whenever given the chance, but in the same breath found himself distinctly different from the rest. Uniquely displaced in a world where everyone is blended, the overly cautious and overly difficult task of being a saiyan-human hybrid.

Trunks never once questioned his existence– chalking up his and the five other hybrids as mere circumstance. But as he grew older, the disconnect he felt with himself grew stronger by the minute.

He was in his own world in this chamber, that was until the gravity shut itself off. A slender woman leaning her head against the doorway as she stared defeated at the sight of the man. “Will you give it a rest already, Trunks?”

Trunks stared at her, her cerulean hair slicked down her back as if it were soaking wet. “Go back to bed, Bulla,” Trunks’ eyes slinked back over to the gravity room controls.

“Trunks you have been in here for hours,” Bulla insisted as she began walking into the chamber, her body quickly blocking the controls from him, garnering a frustrated grunt from the other hybrid. “You need to stop.”

“Why should I?” Trunks' voice was nearly robotic.

And just what could he have done? How could he stop himself from throwing himself into everything after he’s lost any sense of normalcy in his life.

Should he have tried to stop her? Held her hand and begged her to stay?

He knew when he was unwanted, and even if he believed things could have played out much differently had he perhaps been more cognizant, maybe even more careful… She clearly was happier without him. He saw glimpses of raven hair on the street, she inundated his thoughts, snaking into his every sense. Catching small glimpses of her face, as if fate had wanted to tease him.

“You’re going to end up dead if you keep at it,” Bulla sighed, catching the attention of Trunks who looked up almost as if he had been unaware of her appearance. “Besides, no matter how much mom tries to soundproof the damn thing, the sound of the gravity machine is bothering the kids…” she sighed.

“Tough–” Trunks grunted as he tried to maneuver behind his sister to no avail. Trunks hadn’t needed a reminder of his twin sister’s happier outcome. Married with three kids all before the age of thirty, whilst he…was left unhappy.

Trunks grit his teeth as he blasted the remaining bot away into a pile of dust. Bulla’s unenthused eyes watched as the dust settled on the ground, “well…” she hummed as she held her stance at the control panel blocking him from getting in. “You know, you hardly spent any time with them—the kids have been asking about their uncle all day…”

It was a feeble attempt at getting him to switch gears. Bulla was well aware of what truly was bothering her brother– and it wasn’t quite easy for her to witness him in such a state.

Trunks paused as he stopped, turning the gravity chamber off, feeling the weight release off of him. “Bulla, why did you come?” He couldn’t bring himself to even attempt to muster some kind of response to the bluenette’s original statement. “Do you think I need this right now?

Bulla stepped into the chamber watching him carefully as she shook her head. “I know…it’s been difficult because of what’s been happening with…” Bulla pressed her lips together, refraining from mentioning her name. “But, you knew what you were getting into when you asked her to marry you.”

Trunks sighed out as he slumped down to the floor. “It’s better this way,” he replied, watching as his own chest rose and fell. “She got what she needed–I had no intention of keeping her trapped.”

Bulla sat down beside her brother, one arm over his shoulder as she squeezed him closer to her side. “Trunks, I hate seeing you like this – this will pass, I know it…” Bulla replied, leaning her head against his shoulder. “But I really can’t have you training here day in and day out…”

In truth, her voice was laced with concern. It wasn’t like these machines were built to last so long under so much abuse. Their father barely survived the explosion of the aforementioned thing years ago and it certainly wasn’t built to withstand so much abuse at such heavy gravity levels. “Are you going to stay here tonight?” Bulla asked, peeking up at her brother who continued to stare off.

If given the choice of being surrounded by his best friend and twin sister versus his empty apartment, Trunks wasn’t sure which one seemed to be a better choice. He looked down to his hand, the gold band still sitting on his ring finger. His thumb rolled along the bottom of the ring. “I’m going home…”

“Is she still there?” Bulla asked, there was a distinct ache behind that question as she watched her brother’s eyes steady on his ring.

There was a distinct hiss after the fact, his eyes glancing up to meet his sisters. “No, she took all her stuff last week,” he replied, his voice trying it’s damnedest to not fizzle out at the statement.

Bulla’s eyes were like aquamarine stones–hardened in their expression. “Trunks, stay here tonight,” she commanded.

Trunks dropped his guard, breathing in deeply as his gaze shifted towards the exit. Bulla wasn’t making it a question of whether she will let him leave home or not. “I don’t think I will,” he groaned as his hands turned off the gravity chamber.

“Trunks, please–Goten is worried too,” Bulla insisted, turning her body fully to avoid the hybrid from leaving.

He gave a pathetic chuckle, Goten was worrying about him now? That was gold. He recalled when he lived life in the inverse. “Tell him I’ll be out of his hair.”

Bulla watched as he slipped through her and the door, the whirring of the gravity room dying down as his visage of her brother disappeared into the hall just until he was out of sight. For being a twin, she could hardly ever tell just what was going through her brother’s head.

Present

Marron slumped onto her couch, sinking into the cloudy white fabric as a frustrated sigh pushed past her lips as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone. Trying to nullify the thoughts that kept fluttering in her mind.

But tragically, nothing helped. No amount of time sinking activity could pull her from her thoughts. Any distraction would help but nothing could drown the restlessness that settled in her chest.

Her mind always went back to him—her ex. The feeling of complete worthlessness he draped over her like a suffocating plastic bag lingered, even two months since they had broken up. She continued to remind herself that this freedom was for the best.

Yet, his voice still echoed in her mind, finding flaws in all of her actions and chipping away at her confidence until all that remained was the hollow shell of the woman she used to be. And that exactly is why Hazzel she was liberated from the confines of who Marron Chestnut was.

Hazzel wasn’t burdened by self doubt, she wasn’t cautious nor afraid. She could be anyone, do anyone and chase what she desires with little consequence. She had no preconceived notions of who Hazzel should be because she was someone else entirely.

The careful, hesitant and calculating Marron Chestnut — The woman who was just a bit shabby, a little too quiet, The woman who shrunk into the corners of the rooms, the woman who had never been outwardly boisterous, never audacious enough to chase what she wanted…disappeared when she put on her disguise,

And Trunks…didn’t seem to care if she was spoiled goods, or if she was free to live in her authentic truth. He was primarily interested in the carnality of it all. The difference between them, the pure juxtaposition that settled uncomfortably in her chest…and between her legs.

In the daytime, she was Marron, the quiet woman who was a bit too reserved and a bit too quiet. The woman who was never boisterous enough to chase after what she wanted. The woman who was complacent in her life.

And then there was Hazzel – someone so intensely unlike her, the freedom of being restricted in her truth but toeing a dangerous line simultaneously. Just one look at her boss, and all that would fill her mind was how he felt inside of her. It was dangerous.

Marron squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to will the thoughts away. The problem wasn’t that he had been with so many women, it was that he knew what he was doing. Marron never could have fathomed that she was a sexual being.

She believed she was broken, with no way to fix her lack of desire for her ex.

But with Trunks, he elicited something new within her—a feeling she had never felt.

Her breathing was staggered at the memory of his firm hands leaving it’s imprints across her porcelain skin. The way his muscular body moved above her, the sound of his voice—every last drop of his aura stripped her bare leaving her feeling particularly raw,

She never felt something like that with her ex and that was an immense issue.

Marron groaned as pressed her palms against her cheeks, in some futile attempt to cool her face down and ground herself back to reality.

The trap of feeling restrained lust. The uneasiness of seeing him on a daily basis and pretending to be indifferent when the truth was torturing her. And the worst part of it all?

He had no clue.

She looked at a notification that came through on her end. It was an email from Trunks to her corporate email.

Make more room in the schedule for rest. I cannot properly get my job done without more breaks between my meetings.

Fix it.

And to avoid company emails after hours, provide me with your phone number.

Thanks.

Trunks Briefs, CEO

Capsule Corporation,

Marron glared at the email notification, at first extremely irritated at his demand. He wanted more time to do God knows what in his office. After stewing in her annoyance, she registered that last sentence. Sending herself into a full blown panic.

He wanted her number?

But she already gave him her number, as Hazzel.

Shit.

She supposed it was time to request a company device.

Chapter Text

There was a morbid fascination that Trunks seemed to have with this individual. One that was not sexual in origin, but rather, it resembled a researcher observing an anomaly. His interest in Marron Chestnut was not of lust, but analytic.

He had never encountered a human of the female species quite like her.

Marron Chestnut never giggled at his jokes. She never flinched at his temper. And most unnervingly, she was not impressed at all by the weight of his last name or status. In a world where others either tried to win his favor or recoiled in awe, her apathy stood out like a statistical outlier, inviting deeper study.

Trunks failed to realize just how stubborn Marron Chestnut truly was. The woman was a true force to be reckoned with– unyielding, overly assertive and determined in not willing to submit. The entire morning had been spent arguing about a scheduling discrepancy between ten to fifteen minutes on a schedule.

A trivial matter, yet contested nonetheless.

Marron’s eyes narrowed down towards her tablet that she fastidiously analyzed. “Mr. Briefs,”she said, enunciating his name with such acerbic precision that it grated against his nerves.

What the hell had he ever done to her? Typically, people came around liking him—eventually.

But she was unrelenting…as if she hadn’t a modicum of respect for him.

And how could Marron ever respect the man who didn’t even recognize the woman whose body he had so thoroughly memorized.

“Mr. Briefs,” she repeated, clearing her throat, finally capturing his attention after much effort. “Your cooperation would be much appreciated.”

“You are testing my patience,” Trunks hissed, his voice tinged with a profound exasperation, “Couldn’t you simply just do what I ask you?”

It was simple. She worked for him. Why must she insist on making his life so much harder?

Marron’s nose flared slightly as she inhaled sharply. Trunks was intrigued at the display — A new reaction to his usual nonsense. He quite enjoyed their tit for tat. It seemed she wasn’t scared of him, and he was interested to know why.

“Sir, if I may be frank with you—I do not think your sexual encounters on business hours are of any benefit to the company,” Marron stated firmly, noticing as he disengaged with her by whipping out his phone.

“Ms. Chestnut, are you being insubordinate?” Trunks drawled, his eyes locked onto his phone. “Must I discipline my so-called brilliant assistant?”

The word lit her like a matchstick in a dark room. It was sudden, distinct and sharp. Triggering a visceral, immediate response. Despite her best efforts to suppress it, the body keeps score.

He’s uttered that word before, but it wasn’t like this…he said it so casually this time. Back then, it was rasped against her skin, laced with hunger and command. Punctuating every thrust and desperate moan.

Her breath hitched—subtly, but enough to make her pulse quicken and thunder behind her ears. He had no idea that he’d done his rounds of discipline only a few nights ago. Holding her captive beneath him, whispering vulgar praises into her ears, bruising her skin with greedy hands.

Coaxing her cries for him for hours on end.

Her thighs pressed together beneath her desk.

“No,” Marron said carefully, but she maintained a tight and even tone. “I am just…trying to maximize your efficiency.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, battling with the vivid memory and the arousal that clenched at the pit of her stomach.

He was still scrolling. Oblivious. Unbothered Somehow, that made it worse. He had eaten her out like a starved man, and now he couldn’t even be bothered to look her in her eye.

But Trunks detected a slight shift in her attitude that was momentarily present. Was that a flicker of an emotion other than disinterest?

“Do you have a husband, Ms. Chestnut?”

Trunks’ question was harmless in nature, however Marron knew what the true goal was. It was to pin her as some kind of prude, or a spinster of some kind. But Marron was much smarter than her boss believed.

Without bothering to glance up at him, she replied coolly, “Is that a question about my availability…or are you just bored again, Mr. Briefs?”

Trunks smirked, playing with the pen on her desk as though he had all the time in the world. “A man can’t be curious?”

He observed more closely. Marron's desk was a fortress—minimalist, polished, and suspiciously free of personal clutter. Not a photo, not a mug, not a flower. She’d learned early that sentiment invited questions, and she had no time for those.

“You can,” she said, her eyes fixated on the screen. “But it won’t change the fact that your next meeting is in an hour and you are still ignoring the prep notes I sent.”

Trunks smirk twitched, breaking his inflated ego’s facade.

“I am just curious,” Trunks repeated, his tone bordering on defensive. “Who on Earth can tolerate such a stiff woman?”

Marron held her tongue, knowing full well what she wished to reply was him. Trunks Briefs was the exact kind of man who tolerated her but only under different contexts. That, and her ex. But she would rather swallow glass than open up anything about her past to this man…at any level.

“I don’t see how that is relevant, Mr. Briefs,” she emphasized, her tone clipped. “I find it interesting that you insist upon diverting the subject matter.”

Trunks rolled his eyes, realizing he was not getting anywhere attempting to get a rise out of her. “I find it interesting that you don’t want to answer me–”

“Might I suggest, rather than pressing your assistant for questions of her personal life that she isn’t obligated to answer, that you focus on the meeting you are supposed to lead in an hour?”the voice came suddenly…sharp and unmistakable, and of course, right on cue. The chairwoman stood at the end of a hall, her heels clicking like a gavel.

Salvation had arrived in the form of Bulma Briefs—Capsule Corp’s matriarch and Marron’s unintentional guardian angel.

“Do you also see me as incompetent, mother?”

Marron wanted nothing more than to slink back into her desk, an open conversation between a mother and son was not something she wished to engage with.

“I don’t see you as incompetent,” Bulma scoffed, “I just don’t see how asking Ms. Chestnut of her marital status and personal life should matter all too much for you.”

“Please, it’s not like I am trying to fu—” Trunks began but abruptly cut himself off once he realized where his sentence was going.

“Trying to do what, Mr. Briefs?” Marron lifted a brow, before watching him shut his mouth at long last and turn around, walking back into his office like a dog with a tail between his legs.

“I haven’t the faintest idea why he is so hellbent on making things harder for you, but do not cave,” Bulma smirked, “you are doing exactly what I want.”

“I’ll do it with pleasure, Mrs. Briefs,” Marron grinned.

Bulma’s gaze flickered down to her plain garb, the lackluster appearance that didn’t quite call anyone’s attention. She did a good job of masking her own beauty and being a neutral party at the workplace. A commendable effort.

She was blonde, with bright blue eyes, with fair skin that was wrinkle free and plump with youthfulness that was masked behind glasses and shapeless apparel. Perhaps that was what attracted Bulma to her as her top choice, she was the perfect assistant to rein in her mess of a son. Someone serious, and no nonsense.

“Mrs. Briefs, while I have you here…” Marron cleared her throat, “Is it possible to have a phone plan reimbursement…It seems your son requires my assistance outside of the workplace.”

Bulma’s gaze flickered towards the ceiling, clicking her tongue. “I don’t see why not, just send the cost to the reimbursement team in our HR, let them know I approved it if they give you a hard time.”

Marron released a sigh of relief in response, watching as Bulma smiled in response.

“Well, I’ll be off to make sure he gets his points,” Bulma finally said with a flourish of a hand, “Try not to kill each other before lunch.”

As the final slide dimmed and the room shifted towards back pats and bottom feeding flattery, Marron remained in the shadows, satisfied and never acknowledged as assistants typically are. The meeting went without a hitch, Marron made sure of it.

It took a lot of willpower and restraint from her end but one thing about her was that she was steadfast and equally stubborn as her boss. And she would be damned if Trunks Briefs made her look like a fool. And even if all his canned responses seemed overly rehearsed it was better than fumbling his way through.

She stood off to the side, poised and professional but invisible. Watching as the shareholders fell over themselves trying to inflate his already too big ego.

“Mr. Briefs as always, a fabulous presentation!” One of the shareholders patted him on the back, a large Cheshire cat grin on their face.

“Yes, it’s to be expected from the Briefs family–” Another sycophant chimed in before being duly interrupted.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous” Bulma laughed lightly, raising a glance, “he was taught by the best.”

Bulma’s eyes were settled on Marron.

Bulma Briefs was no fool, of course. She knew where credit was really due. However, it would be suicide to acknowledge such a thing outight. consolidating the power of Capsule Corp in the hands of the Briefs was her main priority, and admitting such would tarnish her Son’s position.

The truth was, that Trunks was in a precarious position. Too many prying eyes were waiting for the next mistake, and far too many mouths whispered about his distinct lack of discipline—especially with Volta rapidly gaining traction. The slightest mistake could cost them everything.

That is precisely why Bulma hired Marron. It was not only to rein in her son, which she was confident Marron would achieve regardless, but Marron had done similar for Volta’s elusive CEO, Nylon Muskrat.

She was a weapon in this battle.

From across the room, Trunks’ eyes landed on Marron, approaching her.

Marron did not need to look up to know that he was approaching. She could feel those eyes follow her anywhere, as Hazzel or Marron. It seemed Mr. Briefs had a hard time keeping his gaze to himself.

“As irritating as you are,” Trunks began, his voice low as he stopped before her. “I cannot deny skill.”

Marron glanced up at him momentarily, he was an imposing figure in this light. He towered over her and it reminded her of how she fit against his rock hard body.

The glare of the projector behind them reflected into his glasses, veiling the look in his eyes. Unsure if she was messing with her or genuinely giving her a compliment.

“Mr. Briefs, are you attempting to compliment me?” Marron replied, holding her clipboard tighter to her.

Trunks pressed his lips into a thin line. “Well, what else does it look like?”

Marron blew a short puff of air out of her nose, holding back her laugh all the while. “Being humble does not suit you, Mr. Briefs.”

“And being coy doesn’t suit you,” Trunks replied, his gaze flickering towards the door.

It was the same song and dance—a provocation wrapped with sarcasm and tension in their routine. But Marron was a dangerous one, kept him on his toes and her eerie calmness was unsettling. It rattled him more than he cared to admit.

He’s been able to pinpoint some key things, this woman irritated him because she was able to exert control. Her patience was tested everyday and yet she never snapped or cracked under the pressure he applied. Not only that but she was unafraid to match him.

“It’s time to prep for your twelve o’clock, Mr. Briefs,” Marron smoothly interjected, “best not waste more time.”

Trunks glared at her, daggers she didn’t want to acknowledge. Without even daring to look back, Marron could sense it– like heat searing her spine. “Careful not to strain your eyes more, Sir.”

The walk towards the elevator was a quiet one, eerily so. The kind of overwhelming quiet that dug into the skin, the kind that was so overwhelming that it seemed raucous in nature. The tension in the air buzzed with all the things they refused to say.

Marron pressed the button to the elevator, quietly awaiting as the metal doors swung open. Trunks walked in first, as per usual. However, his gaze didn’t tear away from her, it lingered a little too long…the look in his eyes made her stomach churn.

Did he know?

But there was no way he would have done something or said something. Right?

If he did, the entire world Marron has carefully curated would suddenly collapse all around her.

However, she refused to back down. If he wants to get on her nerves, he will need to try a lot harder than that.

It was pure silence that followed, their bodies shifting the weight between both of their legs, but even the air in that small confined space was far too hot. Too tight. Too much of him, and too little space for her to breathe freely. She felt his breath behind her, steady and far too close.

And Marron’s fragile heart betrayed her, jumping at her throat and thundering violently against her chest.

There was too much that was left unsaid, and that killed her.

What more could they really say to one another, another biting insult? Another snarky reply. Marron preferred the quiet, than the chaos Trunks tended to bring along with him.

Her hand reached for the button panel, about to press the floor that his office was situated in. But the soft sensation of his fingers against hers sent a ripple of chills up her arm. Her hand recoiled as though she had been burned. It was too fast, and too obvious.

And yet, his hand remained…hovering over the panel acting as though he hadn’t felt her skin at all. But, they both knew far better.

Her face remained neutral but within her she could feel as the tips of her ears burned from embarrassment, though Trunks noticed the reddened skin. Her gaze was locked onto her reflection against the mirrored glass of the elevator.

She glanced at the reflection in the mirrored glass, hoping her expression maintained flat and unreadable. The woman who was looking back at her was quiet, composed and ultimately forgettable. This was all according to plan for her. But yet, despite her greatest efforts his eyes pierced through her like a sword.

What could he possibly be analyzing?

Marron’s train of thought was interrupted by the sudden jolt on the elevator caused her body to immediately tense up, the prickling sensation of fear trickling through her. She glanced back at Trunks, who didn’t seem too concerned or at least, he didn’t show it.

As the doors swung open, her eyes did not dare linger on him for a second longer and briskly walked back to her desk. In that quick paced motion, he noticed something.

Trunks’ gaze flickered back to her, his nose picked it up again–the faint scent of that perfume from that fateful night. Clean, floral and impossible for Trunks to ever forget. He wasn’t quite sure, but his brain itched at the memory of Hazzel, but the logic did not align.

It was a blur the walk between the elevator to his office at the end of the hall. Trunks’ mind was littered with thoughts of her again, he seemed to be absolutely enraptured with thoughts of Hazzel. Had she ruined him?

Trunks was sitting in his leather chair, his feet kicked up on the desk as he scrolled through his phone, looking at messages from several different women. Asking when to meet and when they could see him again, it all came off so unappealing now.

Like a meal that didn’t fill.

Even pictures didn’t make them seem all too appetizing.

Hazzel didn’t even message him or send him any pictures.

Why?

Marron lightly knocked, slowly peeking into the office as Trunks was off in his own world. Somehow, that sight irritated her more. Had he not a care in the world with the workload that he has? Somehow, Trunks Briefs was a master at wasting time.

Her gaze remained stilled on the reflection in his glasses. A carousel of lovely women enough to be a feast for his eyes. Her stomach felt a lurching sensation as it twisted and wrung her dry. It was rather disgusting, and yet she noted how detached his gaze was as he scrolled.

She stood there, waiting for him to acknowledge her. It took a few pensive minutes before Trunks nearly jumped out of his seat. “My God, I need to put a bell on you,” Trunks’ tone was certainly more annoyed than playful. “Don’t you know you are supposed to knock.”

“I did,” Marron replied dryly. “I am here to drop off some follow up paperwork.”

There it was, that lingering gaze.

“Ms. Chestnut, I do not appreciate your overstepping earlier,” He replied back. “I don’t know how exactly Nylon ran things at Volta, but assistants should be seen, not heard.”

Marron’s eye twitched with irritation. She hadn’t been there for that long and essentially saved the entire presentation by prepping him and drilling him beforehand and he calls that an overstep?

Marron smirked as she stepped closer to his desk, her manicured nails clicking against the mahogany desk. She was playing a dangerous game, towing the line once more. “Funny,” she murmured, observing the patterns of the wood, “I had assumed you liked it when I told you what to do.”

That tone sounded a little too familiar. Trunks’ expression shifted to one of confusion, it gave him a pause as he looked at the woman’s demeanor shift. He searched in her face for a sign of what she could have possibly been referring to…Marron, for all intents and purposes, was stiff and yet… he came to the realization that she was playing with him.

“Mr. Briefs, needless to say…I don’t appreciate your tone–”

“My tone?” Trunks’ eyes looked like they were about to bulge out of his skull from how irate he had suddenly become. But, much to Marron’s dismay, his angry expression reminded her of how rough he could get with Hazzel. “I suggest you take a look at yourself, you speak to me as if I were a child.”

Marron’s eyes were telling, sprinkled with amusement as she locked her gaze with him. A cheeky grin daring to spread across her lips. “You are.”

“You think you’re untouchable because my mother picked you–” Trunks snapped.

“And you think I don’t see right through you,” Marron replied smoothly. The funniest thing about being hypocritical is that Trunks could say a million things but Marron always knew the truth, whilst Trunks…for what it was worth, would never know.

Their breathing was uneven, their eyes not tearing from each other. She knew the quiet was an unwelcome guest in the elevator ride, but she hadn’t thought it would lead to an outburst. Marron knew what he wanted, or better what he needed. The deprivation of sex was the main culprit for his behavior…she was sure of it.

She managed his day from the moment he rose till the moment he slept, he had no space in the calendar to sleep with women since she took the reins. But maybe, just maybe Marron needed to let him breathe.

Give him a taste—that was all he needed. Just enough for him to starve for more.

Marron knew she was stronger than this but still she found herself pulled towards him again. What an accursed feeling it was to be chasing the sensation that he would elicit. How weak could she be at the simple feeling of his touch?

Every time he called for her, it was like she couldn’t control herself. What exactly had he done to her mind? It wasn’t just the sex alone, it was the way he looked at her. The feeling of being wanted, desired…not just some tool to be used at one’s disposal.

Trunks eased himself between ‘Hazzel’s’ legs, her petite form deliciously wrapping itself around him once more. He had become rather taken with his favorite escape, so much so, he found himself insatiable even after sleeping with any other woman. After getting chewed into by his mother, and his no-nonsense assistant, Marron…it was Hazzel who he hoped to find in his bed.

Her enigmatic eyes were half lidded, feeling as Trunks’ cock pulsed in desire for her. “Easy there,” she whispered as she gently nudged the head of his penis away from her. “You need to earn me first,” she licked her teeth.

“Hazzel, I’m seconds away from fucking your brains out,” Trunks groaned as he watched her breathe softly in and out. Her breasts gently moved along with her bated breath. He needed her, desperately.

Marron smirked at him. It was quite pathetic that just a few hours ago he was berating her as Marron, only to be kissing and begging the same woman for her body. And she allowed it, because—well, he was hot. And she needed to escape from what she was feeling.

The same loneliness that Trunks helped her escape from, time and time again.

His kisses traversed down to her thighs, his knees against the ground as he spread her legs out to reveal her sex, glistening and dripping eagerly for him. His tongue gently licked her, as it flicked atop her bundle of nerves. One hand stroked his erection, whilst the other held her down.

Marron shot her eyes open as she felt a groan against her quivering cunt. He lapped her up all whilst the hand on her thighs slowly inched closer to her entrance, her body begging for more–something, anything at all to fill her up.

”You’re so pretty when you’re desperate,” Trunks groaned out as his fingers practically were sucked in. A pleasant delight, he listened as she moaned softly into the humid air of his bedroom.

“Moan a little louder for me,” he chuckled watching as her hands were ghosting atop her lips. His fingers began to move in ways that she wasn’t able to handle, gripping on to his forearms as he felt the palms of his hands become filled with her juices. “Holy–” Trunks moaned out as his hands stroked himself harder and faster.

Marron sat up, watching in amusement as he lost control over himself. “You’re greedy,” she murmured, nudging him back with a teasing hand on his shoulder. She wanted to punish him, not simply just for being a smug bastard but for completely and totally unraveling her sanity.

His spell was broken, now fully focused on her as she slid herself straight onto his erection. “Letting yourself have all the fun,” she clicked her tongue as her body slipped up and down.

He threw his head up, flashing a grin but as she tightened herself up he found his head thrashing back against the ground. He was mesmerized by her sheer power that she had on him, despite being just an average woman, he admired her physique. Toned, defined and most importantly—attractive.

But as powerful as she was, she still was no match for him– and that much, he knew. As he managed to fold her rather quickly her legs now dangling over her shoulders ramming into her delicious core yet again. The wet sound of damp skin on damp skin, the smell of smut lingering in the air made her head spin, and more importantly the impending feeling this man was going to break her in half with how powerful his strokes were.

She could feel it in her spine as he pinned her down and fucked her, nothing had ever came close to this pure desire he unleashed on her.

She hate and loved how easily she gave in to him, her lust was betraying her logic that she tried to consistently cling to day after day. This was not power, this was Marron surrendering to him.

Her mewls morphed into a feral cry, fingernails scraped his back and chest claiming him as hers in whatever way she could. Screaming out in a cluster of arousal and overwhelming pleasure, he wasn’t holding back. “Scream louder, let it all out,” Trunks groaned against her ear as his digits dug into her flesh.

Marron’s eyes were nearly crossing as her face turned away. A searing overwhelming heat burned through her that she couldn’t quite stand was spreading throughout her. Her vocalizations, however, were not enough.

He wanted to possess her, not just her body, her. He wanted her to feel the way he was feeling, losing his mind, desperately clinging on to her as he searched for that sweet escape. Trunks gripped her face with a single hand squishing her cheeks together as he held her down.

“Eyes on me.”

Chapter Text

Marron’s brows pinched as her screen lit up for the millionth time that day. She had slept with Trunks only to sate his appetite, and continue the illusion of Hazzel for her own benefit but now her personal line was being blown up by him, each message taunting her to drag her deeper into the lie she’s created.

She could play along. Send a flirty text, give him his dopamine fix to get through his day. But Marron wasn’t an idiot…she knew that one slip could blow her cover. He would notice that she has a second phone. One suspicious glance at her phone, a fumble of any kind would be a tell.

Trunks wasn’t dumb. He was perceptive where it counted, and that was especially true when it came to reading her. If he were to ever find out that she and Hazzel were one and the same, she would not only lose her job but she’d lose the game that they are currently playing.

She was resisting the urge to hurl her phone out the window and off the thirtieth floor and bring forth peaceful quiet.

She clenched her jaw out of the stressful situation she’s put herself in. It wasn’t that the compliment got under her skin…it was the feverish heat that overcame her at the memory of the night before. Her skin remembered the feel of his hands, the way his voice scraped in the back of her mind. It was crude—he was crude. And she liked it.

But that message wasn’t intended for Marron—at least not the prim and proper version that was his assistant.

And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let a text message like that distract her from what she was supposed to be doing.

As per usual, the schedule was a chaotic mess. Overlapping department meetings, a call with an East City vendor that he probably already forgot about and a last minute lunch with some of the executives that she knew with certainty that he’d flake on.

Marron didn’t simply manage his calendar. She single handedly strategized to make sure all of these meetings worked in perfect unity. Any pitfalls that could have possibly occurred had a Plan A, B and C. She made Trunks look good while he ran around chasing tail and flirting with a woman who didn’t exist.

So when someone like Bulma’s assistant, Almonde, interrupted the flow of her perfect orchestra…it wasn’t just frustrating, it was insulting.

Not only was it a blatant breach in protocol and trust, it was Marron’s job to make sure his schedule was optimized to maximize productivity and now Almonde is dropping things blind into the schedule without anyone’s consent?

This duty to her job has been her poor justification for keeping this relationship with Trunks in the first place, she can keep him in check…and quite frankly, she can manage him better when her tentacles of control were in every aspect of his life…however she did feel just a tad guilty.

Marron gnawed at the end of the pen cap, her mandible tight as she glared daggers in her screen. A childish scene for a woman who was anything but. Though she was trying to keep her anger in check, waiting for Trunks to ask him what exactly this is about.

But for once in her life, Marron didn’t need to wait very long for Trunks to step out his office. Besides, his next meeting was in ten minutes. However his gaze was glued to his phone, those lips of his pulled into a knowing grin...

That stupid, wolfish grin. The type of grin that he never sent her way. Not when she saved the day for the umpteenth time or sent in a revised contract moments before it was needed. That grin of his was reserved for the art of seduction. For the fantasy, that once more she helped orchestrate.

It was never meant for the woman ten feet away from him, biting a pen like a nervous wreck.

The fact that he was so ecstatic and eager to see Hazzel should have made her feel like she was winning. But rather than that, it felt more like a punch to the gut.

For a moment a thought flitted through her mind, of what could possibly have him smiling that way. But her desire to ascertain information on this block on his schedule was far greater.

“Excuse me, Mr. Briefs,” Marron called out.

He paused midstep, turning to face her. Marron was calling him? His face tinged with annoyance as she interrupted his lascivious memories from the night before. “Yes?”

Marron caught that glimpse of annoyance but barreled on through regardless. “There’s a meeting scheduled for 8 PM. Just confirming it doesn’t conflict with anything.”

Trunks lifted a brow. “What meeting?”

“The one your mother’s assistant put in here,” Marron replied swiftly, swiveling her monitor for him to see.

Trunks was quick to turn back around and get behind her space, peering over the screen. “Not this shit again…”

Marron blinked, the smell of his cologne intermingled in the tighter space. Her gaze lifted to look at his profile, and as quickly as she did she turned back around heat prickling her cheeks momentarily. “Sir?”

“It’s a blind date,” he muttered, she could sense the irritation emanating off of him with just a simple word. “These ladies have nothing else better to do with their time?”

“Oh?” Marron said with renewed energy, a smirk gracing her lips. “Is it that much of an issue Mr. Briefs, I thought you were quite taken with the eligible bachelorettes of West City,” her voice was teetering with a teasing undercurrent.

“Not these ladies,” Trunks groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “To be frank, Ms. Chestnut, they are quite proper…and boring.”

He glanced sideways, an impish tug on his lips. “A bit like you, really.”

She rolled her eyes, a recycled insult. He seemed to be getting worse at these things. “Try harder next time.”

“You know…this is not the time to bicker with you,” he shot back his glare, locking with hers with a rare seriousness. “I need to get out of this mess, as soon as possible.”

“Why?” She asked, lifting a brow. “Do you have a secret lover that’s going to get jealous?”

Trunks looked off to the side, crimson burning in his ears. “Something like that.”

Marron’s heart skipped a beat for a moment. Her breath felt stifled in her chest. There was no way he was referring to Hazzel…and by extension…her. As if she would ever willingly date this man.

Right?

Trunks pulled out his phone once more, scrolling through his contacts. “Get a hold of this person, see if they are available around six.”

Marron blinked, glancing at him in presumptuous disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re asking me to arrange a bootycall.”

Trunks recoiled at her word choice. “My God, Ms. Chestnut,” his voice was thick in pure disgust at the vulgarity of her statement.

“What?” She asked with her voice pitched in annoyance. She was simply calling him out for the behavior he always tried on her.

“It’s my sister,” Trunks hissed.

The realization of her error scratched at her chest, feeling as the blood drained from her face. It’s not like it’s something that he wouldn’t do. He has a bad habit of calling women to his office although as of late that seems to have slowed down too.

“Yes, right,” Marron began, coughing into her fist to try to alleviate the sudden awkwardness. “Of course, that makes sense.”

She turned to her monitor too embarrassed to really process an appropriate response. How could she recover from that? Trunks was eyeing her like she was the scourge of the Earth. “I’ll make the call, Mr. Briefs,” her voice was meeker, and softer than before.

A definite change to her usual disposition. Trunks tilted his head slightly, observing her just a bit more closely. His gaze narrowed in on the subtle change that hid beneath her mask. Though Trunks was often depicted as freewheeling and incompetent it was never a fair assertion.

Trunks knew how to read a liar, it’s how he could run circles around the people in these boardrooms who flubbed their numbers and sang false praises of him in the first place. Ms. Chestnut smelled of it, an insecure lie.

“You don’t seem too thrilled to do so, are you perhaps embarrassed?”

“What is there to be embarrassed about?” Marron replied cooly, her fingers brushing over her keyboard but still managing to make typos along the way. A clumsy, nervous mistake. But a mistake, nonetheless.

“Have you ever been on a blind date?” Trunks asked, shifting his weight all in one arm as he turned his body towards her.

“I never had the need to,” she replied back, not sparing a glance his way.

“Lucky you,” Trunks mused as he picked out one of her pens from her pen holder, glancing at its boring shape and colorless exterior. “I can’t imagine you’d enjoy it…too unpredictable.”

“Precisely,” Marron responded, her gaze still fixed on the screen as she corrected her onslaught of typos. She could not concentrate when this man’s cologne was permeating through her senses.

“You like to be in control,” he added, leaning a little closer.

Marron finally looked up at him, her blue eyes sharp and aggressive. “Someone has to.”

There was a momentary pause, Trunks’ eyes locked with hers for a moment too long. But it was long enough to make her stomach twist and her loins burn simultaneously.

“Right,” he began, stepping back slightly as his hand tapped on the desk to disrupt the silence. “Let me know what she says.”

Marron nodded, mainly to herself as she prayed he’d disappear once again. And with that, he was gone and the tension that was once front and center was now lingering like a foul odor.

Marron sank into her seat. She desperately needed to get a grip.

It’s been months since the last time he was at his family home. It looked the same as it always did sterile corridors with the hum of advanced nanobots whirring in the background but it felt much different. It was warmer and louder than before. The kind of chaos that was brought with children.

It made him feel a unique disconnect to his own life. Walking into this warmth when all he has felt lately was stone cold efficiency. Currently in front of him were two rambunctious blue-haired toddlers sat staring at him with wide dark eyes. They were the spitting image of Goten with just a little bit of Bulla’s ferocity in the mix.

He still couldn’t believe that he was staring directly at their progeny. Boxer and Bikini, a little on the nose for Trunks’ taste but who was he to judge?

Boxer’s tiny foot thumped against his shin repeatedly, for the past ten minutes it was a steady thud until Trunks finally gave him a dry look. “Training to be the next world champion, kid or do I look like a punching bag today?”

Boxer giggled maniacally in response to his uncle’s annoyance, he was practically vibrating with frenetic energy. Meanwhile Bikini stared at him quite intently, her hand gripping a glittery sticker sheet while she eyed down potential target locations like she was an artist eyeing a canvas

Her gaze locked on his forehead as her next target, sticking a few more glittery monstrosities on his face. All Trunks could do was grin and bear it.

“Alright, who wants to train with grandpa in the gravity chamber!” Bulla chimed in watching as Boxer’s face grew elated and Bikini snuck a few more stickers on Trunks before following behind her brother.

The kids zipped past Bulla entirely clinging on to Goten who stood back behind her, as he picked the twins up they grinned pressing their face against his. “Let’s leave your uncle alone for a bit, yeah?”

Bulla shut the door, before her eyes beelined to the array of bright, glittery stickers along his arm. “Wow!” Bulla chuckled with amusement, “even I don’t get so many.”

“I’m flattered,” Trunks said flatly before breaking into a chuckle.

“Okay Prince Charming,” Bulla began as she poured herself and her brother a drink. “You got twenty minutes before mom shows up and spoils your plan.”

She passed a glass over to her older brother, watching as Trunks hardly even looked up at her.

“Well, come on, drink up,” she pushed him just a little further, she hated seeing him in such a funk.

“I’d rather chew on glass than go on a date with another heiress of a Fortune 500 who still calls her father, ‘daddy,’” Trunks spat out, grabbing the glass from Bulla’s hand.

“Right that’s exclusive to your hookups—”

Trunks shot a deathly glare to his sister, “That’s gross.”

“Touché.” There was a silence that hung between them for a moment as Bulla sat down beside him, watching him down his cup. “You’ve been different lately,” Bulla pointed out.

“And you’ve been too nosy,” Trunks rolled his eyes. He ran his hand through his lavender hair, somehow finding glittery strikers in his hair. “I’m always acting differently to you,” Trunks mumbled, staring at the ice cube in his drink.

“It’s not that…it’s like,” Bulla’s gaze stared off towards the window trying to think of the right words. “It’s like you’re annoyed, or distracted.”

“What else is new?”

“Dude, stop being dismissive.” Bulla groaned as she pressed a hand against his shoulder, “I’m worried, I don’t want you to go through another Mai situation.”

Trunks paused, swirling his drink in hand. That name carried weight, it was sour and metallic in his ear, clanging desperately to maintain relevance. He remembered the silence most of all. How each sound echoed in the quiet, empty penthouse after she left. Unopened meals, unread messages…the empty side of his bed is filled with strange women.

“It’s not Mai,” Trunks said. His voice is quiet yet firm. Even the sound of her name on his lips bothered him.

The despondent nature that he carried himself with for the first few months after their separation was some of the worst memories and lowest of lows he had ever experienced. He didn’t cope well with abandonment. Well, who did, really?

“Then who?” Bulla asked, her brow piqued with curiosity.

Trunks was silent again. Did he really want to bring up a meaningless hookup? Was she meaningless to him? “No one.”

Bulma snorted as she took another swig from her glass. “Liar,” she teased, “I haven’t seen you get this worked up since that time Goten sent you a shirtless mirror selfie meant for me.”

Trunks nearly choked on his drink at the memory. He even replied back telling me he looked great, an embarrassing moment for the three of them. “Why the hell would you bring that up?”

Bulla’s grin was rather self satisfactory, “the point is, you don’t get this riled up unless you really care…so who’s the lucky lady?”

“Someone who wasn’t supposed to matter,” Trunks replied back, his voice low. "I just—it wasn’t supposed to get this deep…it was just harmless fun.”

“I think about her all day, I can’t even keep my thoughts straight. I snap at people who don’t deserve it,” Trunks groaned as he rubbed his temples, “she’s in my head, and the worst part of it all was that she never is around when I want her to be.”

“Do you really like her?”

Trunks didn’t answer immediately. How could he? The prospect of liking someone new was too daunting of a prospect to admit. He leaned forward with his glass of liquor dangling in his hand.

“To be honest, Bulla…” He said, exhaling sharply through his nose, “I don’t know.”

Bulla spared a sympathetic glance watching him closely. “You don’t know or are you too afraid to admit it?”

Trunks' lips pulled into a tight line, his finger running along the grooves of the glass. He wasn’t going to spare a single word to his sister, definitely not when this accusation is about to be proven.

“Maybe you’re just scared?” she asked, her voice a bit more gentle. “You know I’d be too if I had a situation like the one with Mai blowing up in my face like that.”

“Me?” Trunks scoffed as he sat back, “Scared?”

Bulla rolled her eyes, the guy who was scared of ghosts and dogs is saying he’s not scared? What a joke. “Yeah, scared.” Bulla shot back, her tone firm.

“Whoever this person is, they have clearly gotten under your skin and per typical Trunks fashion you ignore the problem and pretend you are unaffected,” Bulla’s voice was getting a bit louder, her frustration growing with him, “You love to throw up walls but you’re just being stubborn and prideful, just like dad.”

Trunks didn’t say anything. How could he? She was right. When was it that he turned so emotionally constipated? He used to make fun of how serious his dad is and here he was turning to a replica of his father from the caustic way he spoke to the way he tended to ignore the feelings that simmered beneath the surface.

“You’re ruining your chances by not taking that leap of faith,” Bulla said, placing her glass down on the table in front of her. “It’s not because you don’t care but because you’re freaked the hell out.”

“I’ll get rid of this little date problem,” Bulla said as stood up and smoothed her jeans. As she got to the door, she glanced back at her brother, her tone softening “On the condition that you figure out what the hell it is that you’re wanting out of this girl.”

In a dimly lit room, and lush satin sheets laid the figure of an alluring woman. Tempting Trunks with an overwhelming sense of wanting. Her dark hair spilled behind her as she lied still on her side.

“Hazzel…”

His voice spilled into the dark, dripping like warm liquor.

Marron wasn’t asleep. How could she ever be when this lecherous beast was hungrily eyeing her over like his next indulgence?

Trunks’ lips traversed from the apex of her soft shoulders and down the deep valleys of her waist. Every brush of his skin against hers electrified her, sending ripples of chills across the surface of her skin. His breath was hot and ragged against her neck. The air that remained between them filled with smut and a unique obsession.

His hand lingered along the inside of her thighs, curiously running his fingers against the backside of her thighs. His hand drifted even further, as his fingers parted the slick skin between her thighs.

“You’re wet again,” he whispered softly against her ear, his voice velvety and wrapped in sin.

She kept her eyes screwed shut. If she acknowledged him, then she lost. But she hated that she could hear that smirk on his lips, ever present and oh-so smug.

“I know you are pretending,” Trunks murmured, his tone teasing but heavy with lust. His practiced fingers sliding into her cunt with ease.

Marron’s lip quivered slightly at the stretching, and torturously delicious sensation. Trunks caught it as he watched her from above. She could turn her back to him all she wanted, but he could spot when his Hazzel was feeling turned on once again.

To her dismay, it has been many hours. Her skin bloomed with reddened kisses, imprints of where his lips lingered for too long.

It came with the territory of fucking a Saiyan. But in every bite and every intense kiss, there was one abundantly clear message. Trunks was staking his claim.

Hazzel was his. Right?

His fingers dipped deeper as he listened to her vocalizations, the gentle mewl that would lead him down a dangerous path once again. “There you are,” Trunks mused as his teeth grazed along the nape of neck. His nose brushed along the brunette hair catching a familiar scent.

Black currant.

That distinct and maddeningly intoxicating scent. It made his chest tighten in anguish and desire all at once.

“Open your eyes,” he instructed.

And chained to his command, she did. Beautiful, warm blue eyes looking back at him.

“Good girl…” his fingers began to move, feeling every inch of her swollen cunt grip onto his mere digits. He wondered if her pussy begged for other men the way it begged for him.

The thought of anyone else touching her stirred a uniquely primal, a possessive, territorial and dangerous energy surged within him. “I don’t think I want to share anymore, Hazzel,” Trunks whispered in her ear, feeling as she squeezed with his words.

He told himself, she was just a good fuck. Time after time, but found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The truth was, it wasn’t that he wanted to stop.

It’s that he couldn’t.

Marron could scream. Her mind was hazy, thoughts clouded from the sensations. He was an asshole, possessive and just a slight touch of crazy to try to claim her. And she wished she could say that to his face, however try as she might, all that could come out was the sound of her moans.

And the louder her moans, the more forceful his hand. His palm met with her pearl, soaked with her essence of lust as punishing slaps left an echo of her desire.

She loathed that her body betrayed her with such ease. She hated it was him—only him—that could make her feel this way. No one has ever come so close. Even as her mind screamed to run her body beckoned her to stay. Every single time that his hands explored her skin, she felt the lines of lust and hate blur further by the second.

That ever growing desire to be filled completely, it was dizzying and nauseating.

“Keep—” Her voice hitched, “Keep going,”

“Remember,” Trunks growled against the tips of her ears, “I’m the only one that can make you feel like this.”

He watched as Hazzel’s desperation climbed to new heights, applying pressure on her clit watching as her fingernails clawed at his forearm. His fingers felt as though they’d snap from how tight she was, it was quite a feat how much of a grip she had on him.

“Shit you’re so—” Trunks' cooler disposition was suddenly lost as he watched a flash of aggression overcome her eyes.

Her fingers dug into his wrist, her nails biting into his flesh.

“Don’t fucking stop,” she spat, her voice breaking on her last word. Only, it wasn’t the words that struck Trunks…it was her tone. The sharp, clipped and eerily familiar command. The look in her eye…

His brow twitched, but the thought vanished as quickly as it came.

Chapter Text

Marron glanced at her new phone, her features displaying annoyance as she stared at the abundance of text messages that her boss had sent her over the span of a few hours. It was quite exhausting for her to look at but she knew she would much rather be looking at this than tormenting herself with thoughts of the night before.

Her hips were achingly sore, no thanks to his antics. It was a throbbing reminder of the way he held her like she meant something. It was a Saturday morning and she had the unique displeasure of being bothered by Trunks Briefs about another meeting that he decided to set up himself.

How and when he managed to pull those strings was beyond her, given the fact he had visited his sister the day before and her that same evening.

“Wake up,” A woman’s melodic voice sang out, triggering Marron’s eyes to fly open at the sound. Now she welcomed the sight of a tanned brunette poking her cheek, her long curly hair swept to the side as her brown eyes watched her intently. “You’re gonna have to start paying rent soon.”

She didn’t remember exactly how she ended up at her best friend’s house. She knew there was a cab ride, maybe some crying but the night dissolved into fragments of maybes and could-have-beens the moment she slipped out of his apartment.

But regardless, she laid there letting the throbbing waves of her headache hit her. “Val–” Marron groaned, “Ugh, what time—”

Valese snickered as she sat beside her. “Don’t worry, it’s eight o'clock—I know you gotta walk right back into hell again,” she sighed out as she handed Marron a cold bottle of water.

“Which one, home or work?” Marron spat out before opening the water bottle, downing the liquid almost completely. “Either way I’m fucked.”

“Thinking about Ryce again?” Valese asked as she sat beside her friend, “you are so, so past that point already Mare Mare.”

“Yeah, can you tell,” Marron groaned. “Even though we’ve been separated for months everything feels off.”

Sometimes it was the small things, the scent of a particular cologne. The sharp sound of a slammed door. Sometimes all it took was one small reminder to spiral her for the rest of the day.

“You know if Ryce got to do whatever the hell he wants, why can’t you?” Valese pressed as she sat beside her.

“Because then I’d be the same as him,” Marron grumbled as she leant back on the sofa.

“But you’re a free woman now,” Valese pressed, brushing a strand of Marron’s blonde hair behind her ear, “he can’t hurt you now.”

And yet somehow, Ryce still managed to leave permanent scars on her psyche…even in the aftermath of it all Marron remained scathed, battered and bruised. Although only those who knew her best would ever see the Marron Chestnut who searched for an escape from the world she previously lived in.

How could she ever remain free, when his memory still chained her down. How could she be free, when she sought comfort in the arms of men who didn’t even know her real name.

“So,” Valese continued, playing with the strands of her hair, “Are you ever…going to tell him?”

Marron sighed, she knew precisely what she was asking about and it was something that she considered completely out of the question. “Absolutely not,” she emphasized, as she took a sip of her water, “he can never know.”

“So what do you just plan ondoing, just endlessly fucking him as Hazzel?” Valese snorted, “sounds like way too much work just for a man.”

“He hates me, Val,” Marron emphasized, “the man genuinely can not be in my presence without bothering me or berating me.”

“Sounds like he has a crush,” Valese snickered. “Maybe he’s just jealous that Marron Chestnut has her whole life figured out while he doesn’t.”

Marron blinked at her, before she stretched her arms, “Yeah, sure, that’s one way to put it.”

“Hey! I am being serious, in fact I’d bet on it,” Valese said, poking Marron’s cheek. “You know I’m hardly ever wrong about these things.”

“Ugh, you and Rulah both are the same…” She groaned rolling her eyes, “I really should just end it.”

“Well, why haven’t you?” Valese asked, sitting beside her, crossing her legs. Marron cast a knowing glance towards her friend. That was the only response Valese needed. “Say less, I get it, the dick is too good.”

Marron’s ears tinged with red looking down at the floor. “Jeez, I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to, I can clock it from a mile away,” Valese sang out in amusement. “Just promise you’ll stop when it stops feeling good.”

“It really is a bad idea to keep doing this, do you know how difficult it is for me to focus with this man breathing down my neck and all I get are memories of what we did?” Marron groaned, throwing her face into her hands. “My god—this is way too much.”

“What… are you getting attached?”

“Fuck no!” She exclaimed.

“Is he?”

Marron paused thinking back to his reaction the day before when she asked about a lover. He had blushed as though he had one.

“He’s…a little incessant.” Marron hesitated, warming the bottle of water between her palms, “he’s trying to meet up outside of his apartment or hotel, for dinner or whatever and I just…”

“Ignore him?”

Marron paused, a devious smirk coming on her lips. “Well, I fill his planner so that he has no real wiggle room,” she snickered.

“You are evil!” Valese gasped, a light smack on Marron’s arm.

“That dickhead started it!” Marron grumbled as she stood up from the couch, “Anyway…Val I gotta get ready.”

“Bathrooms on the left,” Valese pointed, “go ahead and put on your cosplay.”

Marron forced a smile as she stood up. She wasn’t wrong, the Marron Chestnut that Trunks knew was not her. Who was she anyway? Maybe one day she’d remember.

The last thing Marron wanted to do was work on a Saturday, but it came with the territory of working at Capsule Corp and being an assistant. Sometimes, sacrifices are needed. She sat at her desk, dressed in her regular work attire typing away the final preparations in the reports that Trunks would need for this meeting with the heads of the other branches.

She glanced down at her wrist watch, noting the time. It was nearly twelve o’clock and Trunks still hasn’t graced her with his presence to review the meeting notes.

Typical of him.

Marron leaned back in her chair, her gaze meeting the ceiling as she rubbed the back of her neck. As if trying to will the tension that she felt out of her. She should have calculated for his chronic tardiness, besides, she knew what he was up to last night. Her stomach growled ferociously, it seemed it spoke for itself– she hadn’t eaten since the morning when she was at Valese’s.

The sound of an elevator ding brought her attention to the elevator door which swung the doors open to a more casually dressed Trunks, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and drinks in the other. The scent of cardamom and coriander filling the air, making her mouth water and stomach grumble even louder.

He strolled in, stopping right in front of her desk. He only wore slacks and a tucked in button up that left a few buttons open towards the top. She supposed it was expected—it was Saturday and no one should be in the office today.

He plopped the bag on her desk, a disarming smile on his lips begging for forgiveness. “Figured if I made you wait this long I may as well bring a peace offering,” he said smoothly. “Hope you like overpriced Dhanian food.”

Marron glanced down at the bag and back up to Trunks. One thing she knew was this smelled absolutely divine and she definitely wanted to devour this now but she was more surprised that he even thought to bring food as if he knew that she may have not eaten lunch yet.

She shouldn’t flatter herself, she tended to skip lunches to crunch more time into work. He probably was just being nice. She wasn’t sure if to thank him or chew him out for his lateness.

She opened the bag, observing the food inside which was certainly tempting her. “And here I thought your only kind of peace offering came with insults and increased workload.”

Trunks smirked, as he pulled out a box from the bag and cocked his head towards the kitchen on the office floor. “That’s the usual, but you get the deluxe Trunks Briefs assholery on the weekends.”

Marron rolled her eyes, but the comment did crack a smile on her lips. She followed him in and setting her food down on the table. “You know we still need to review the notes for the meeting tonight, those execs are going to drill into you,” she commented as she opened her box of food.

The food was warm, full of aromatic flavors and just a tad bit messy. It was curry after all. But that smell was grounding her at the moment. It allowed her to have the disconnect she desperately needed. Across from her sat Trunks, who ate as though nothing new had happened.

Like he didn’t have her bent over on all fours, dripping and moaning into a pillow less than twenty four hours ago. Her gaze glared at the pita bread as she tore a piece and gnawed on it.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Trunks said, stretching languidly in his chair. “Let’s cover it all now while we eat.”

Marron lifted her brows in surprise. “Wow, Mr. Briefs is multitasking?” she asked with a bit of sarcasm in her tone, “don’t tell me… next you’ll tell me you read the new budget proposition from the CFO.”

Trunks snorted before taking a bite out of his food. “Don’t test your luck, I’m not that eager to impress.”

He said it so lightly, almost like a passing comment. But his eyes flickered towards her for a moment too long, as though he scanned her for some kind of response.

For once the banter didn’t feel like they were at each other's throat. It seemed Trunks was cooperating, probably because he had a good night the night before…but she was welcoming the more laid back attitude they were carrying on with.

Marron found a corner near the bar, her back facing the private dining area as she reviewed the digital briefing notes she had put together for Trunks. She wasn’t here for drinks, she was here for work, however the silence in the restaurant gave her the distance she desperately needed to breathe.

Her clothes felt foreign on her body. It was certainly a slight change from her usual plain attire. The skirt suit she donned fit her perfectly and was tailored to her. A remnant to her days at Volta. She hoped it wouldn’t call too much attention to her.

She was ten minutes early, as per usual for her. The dining area was empty, save for the waitstaff who was adding final touches to the space, with crystal glasses and utensils being placed down perfectly.

A few minutes passed and she saw Trunks enter the building. His gaze scanned over the room, seemingly searching for her. But had to do a double take when he realized he missed her.

He was searching for Marron in a sleek bun and baggy slacks—this one had a sharper silhouette. She was dressed more sharply and arguably more refined. The white tweed blazer hugged her waist, the golden buttons on the blazer gleaming from the warm light. But that stern look in her eyes was enough for Trunks to recognize her.

“Oh, you’re here...I hardly recognized you.”

She looked up at him, her breath held for just a moment as she handed him the tablet. “Everything is ready to go, I marked the sections that they may try to corner you on.”

Trunks analyzed the overview, his brows lifted in response. “Nice,” Trunks complimented. “You’re getting scarily good at that.” It wasn’t flirtatious, Marron knew that…just appreciative.

His eyes didn’t remain on the tablet for very long…she wasn’t sure why, but it was making her skin crawl.

He took in her appearance slower this time around, the way her blonde hair curled around the gold frame of her glasses, it was an innocent strand of hair that framed her face. The gold threading interwoven into the fabric matched the muted gold on her heels.

“You clean up well, Ms. Chestnut,” he acknowledged. His gaze wasn’t lecherous by any means, it was more so awareness of her presence and that made Marron feel even more aware of herself.

Before she could reply, the door of the restaurant swung open as executives filed in, four men in total. All steely eyed, styled in sharp suits with calculated precision. She’s done this song and dance before with Nylon. She can handle them.

“Mr. Briefs,” one of the older executives greeted, extending a hand to him, “Thanks for treating us to this dinner, beats a cold room in HQ.”

“No problem,” Trunks replied, offering a fake smile. “West City’s got some of the best restaurants on Earth, a good place to expense a company dinner.”

One of the younger executives, around Trunks’ age, turned his attention to Marron. His smile was a bit too toothy, and eyes that tried too hard to be charming. Marron knew the type, she had to brace herself for a workplace microaggression.

Par for the course for a woman in this position.

“Ms. Chestnut, right?” He pointed, waiting for Marron’s polite nod, “You’re not based out of East City, right?”

Marron blinked, dumbfounded. “No, West.”

“Didn’t expect Mr. Briefs team to be so…well-rounded, you must make quite the impression in the boardroom,” he replied coolly, his gaze lingering along her silhouette until it landed on her face. “I don’t typically forget a face, especially one that looks like yours.”

Trunks’ eyes flickered towards the two, something unrecognizable brewing beneath his sapphire eyes. There was a quiet warning. Something about the way he leaned towards her, too close for his own comfort…it made Trunks’ pulse quicken and beat harder.

Why?

“You wouldn’t happen to know Ryce Keik, do you?” The man continued, with a laugh. It seemed he was emotionally inept, as a sudden tension suddenly appeared over the two of them. “Infrastructure guy?”

The name made her blood run cold. She knew working in the same company as him would lead to an eventual mention, but it still nauseated her. She forced a breath into her lungs for courage.

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I know him.”

“He’s a trip, I’ll tell ‘ya!” The man laughed as they began to shuffle into the dining room. “Talks like he’s three promotions higher than he is, super smart though…we got the guy on optimization mapping for our raw capsules supply.”

“Yeah,” Marron said, offering a practiced smile that seemed a little too perfect. “He’s persistent.”

Her back was a little too straight, her responses too canned. Her fingers curled tightly around the tablet and that’s when Trunks noticed, Marron was not irritated…she was restraining herself.

Trunks’ jaw clenched slightly as he held his hand up, not even looking any of the other executives in the eye. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, already moving past.

And he definitely didn’t like the way this young hot-shot was hovering over her, like a dog around a dinner table.

He stepped beside her, offering a soulless grin to the younger executive. “Mr. Walnu, Ms. Chestnut doesn’t work in infrastructure, she’s my executive assistant—she sits in on all high-level briefings.”

The man blinked in disbelief, not expecting Trunks to step in between their conversation. “My mistake, Mr. Briefs,” he responded with a dry chuckle, “I didn’t know she was off-limits.”

Trunks didn’t smile back. “She’s not but we are in a workplace environment.”

“It’s just harmless conversation, didn’t mean to cross the line,” Walnu attempted to fan the flames but the discomfort between the three only grew thicker.

“Keep it that way,” Trunks’ voice was easy-going but oddly firm, “she isn’t here for your entertainment.”

Marron couldn’t believe the scene that displayed in front of her. She didn’t need Trunks’ help to handle this man, she was more than capable to handle the situation herself. And yet, that same low and gravelly voice sent chills down her spine.

Mr. Walnu lifted his hands up, surrendering as he stepped back and found his seat at the table.

Marron turned her gaze to Trunks. Beneath her forced smile she looked up at him, “that wasn’t necessary.”

Trunks scoffed, “he was salivating over you like a dog in heat, it was completely inappropriate.”

“I appreciate you can recognize one of your own,” Marron teased.

“Let’s just go sit,” Trunks finally offered, letting her find her seat first.

Marron sat beside Trunks, her hand touching the menu tentatively. As she listened to the other executives banter, raucous laughter disrupted her train of thought as she tried to keep it together. She needed to.

Wine was poured around the table and Trunks watched her quiet and composed demeanor—that wasn’t out of the ordinary for her. What was is the tense shoulder and clenched jaw she had. As the waiter poured her drink a light splash landed on the white linen of the dining table.

Her gaze narrowed in on it.

“Are you going to clean it up, Mare Bear?”

Marron blinked hard, as she looked up at the panicked waiter once again. “It’s OK, no need to apologize.”

Trunks watched her with measured precision. She was impeccably dressed for once and he couldn’t stop glancing at her try as he might. She commanded attention without uttering a single word.

But Marron’s intensity as she glanced down at the stain twisted something in Trunks’ stomach. His brow furrowed. He knew Marron enough to know when something had cracked her icy exterior.

“Are you alright?” he murmured low enough for only her to hear.

His gravely voice startled her, she was not expecting him to drag her out of her spiral. She nodded as she took a sip of her drink. “Yes, sorry…I’m just tired.”

Trunks’ gaze didn’t want to tear from her, out of concern primarily but he decided not to push. Why should he care if his assistant is having personal problems…she always prided herself in separating herself from life and work.

Her hands remained folded over her lap, lying perfectly still. And though she was the image of perfect composure, inside her mind had drifted elsewhere.

5 Months Ago

Marron twisted her wedding band slowly, the metallic band felt like it was searing into her skin as she stood in front of her condo door. What was she to find when she stepped foot inside?

That was all up to her husband.

The arrangement she made with him was transactional. Once a month, he was allowed to indulge in his fantasies with his paramour under her strict conditions. Marron dictated where he could cum and when he could see her. He had been plagued with a lust that couldn't be quenched by his hands, and Marron, exhausted as always, simply couldn't keep up with his insurmountable desires.

As the door creaked open she slipped inside, she was careful not to disturb. Slipping her shoes off and placing them neatly by the door. As her bare feet gently stepped like a thief in her own home, she kept her ears tentatively listening to the rhythmic pace of her bed frame hitting the wall.

Soft creaks of the springs in the mattress as sensual pants and moans flitted in the air. “Ryce,” a familiar woman’s flighty voice glittered through sound waves. The scent of their musk is unbearable to Marron, making her stomach tie into knots. Moments like these she needed to remind herself that she…and she alone signed up for this life.

She was stuck in the echo chamber of her own misery. As she trailed around the corner she found herself in the kitchen, her hands grappling the sides of the counter. She knew the woman Ryce was inside with at that very moment.

Yoguri, five years Marron’s junior with a sexual appetite that seemed matched with Ryce’s. Their fateful meeting came after Ryce’s work trip to the Capsule Corp branch in East City, Marron never bothered asking too many details…she managed to put two and two together when her husband came home asking to open up their relationship.

A young flight attendant and a man with unchecked lust were a powerful mess of a combination. Marron agreed to have her come once a month—but then it continued to two days… a week…this last stint was a whole month. Marron hated when Yoguri stayed over, Ryce transformed into a sexual degenerate that was not the man she agreed to marry.

He demanded things of Marron that sent her head spinning, for the sake to satiate himself and his paramour. There was a time, Ryce was caring…when his eyes stayed on her, he asked her about her day, he kissed her, slept beside her, held her when she cried. She shared this space with him.

And now, Yoguri’s things inundated her space–her drawers, her mind and the space that was reserved just for Marron in Ryce’s heart. It wasn’t empowering her to feel any better about her current situation. She was thoroughly unhappy, but she loved Ryce.

She agreed to this.

She chose this.

She wanted this.

These phrases became her daily mantras, feeble attempts to save her marriage from utter collapse but…whenever she got home after a long shift assisting the CEO of Volta, she was greeted by a debauched household. It was an already humiliating position to be in–being degraded by her boss for the most minuscule of mistakes…but to also come home to her husband deep inside of another woman.

As the creaking slowed to a halt, there was a quiet that filled the air. “Mare,” Ryce’s voice bellowed through the apartment and it reverberated straight through her core. He wanted her to go in there, but Marron knew what would await her if she walked in there.

“Mare, come in here!” Yoguri’s voice giggled.

Marron crept towards the bedroom door slowly opening it bracing herself for what she would see when she opened the door. Once she did, she saw her metamour, Yoguri, laying there fully in the nude on her side of the bed.

Marron could gag at the sight. It churned her stomach to look at the two of them. It’s not because Yoguri was ugly, in fact she was a bit too beautiful, even when her pink hair was crazed from whatever they had been doing, and Ryce was simply tracing her curves with his fingertips. Admiring her figure, it certainly didn't make Marron feel any better about herself.

“Oh Marron, I didn’t even know you were here,” Yoguri giggled, her emerald eyes switching over to Ryce, as her long fingers traced through his golden curls. “We would have had you join us had we known,” she commented facetiously, her finger pressed to her lips before her voice devolved into another pitchy moan.

Marron tried her hardest not to grimace at the sight of them as she watched Ryce suckle on her breasts, his amber eyes watching her with lecherous intent.

Uneasy, the blonde began to shift her weight from one leg to another. “What exactly did you want me in here for?” Marron’s gaze rolled to the side, as if to give the two a sense of privacy.

“Babe can you clean it up?” he asked, a sickening smirk spreading on his sinful lips.

Marron looked at his face with a slack jaw, even in the state she was dressed in–her work clothes still strapped to her body– he had the gall to even say such a thing to her? Marron felt the slimy feeling grow within her as Yoguri began to giggle uncontrollably in the dead silence.

“No Ryce,” Marron pressed. “I told you I don’t like that shit.”

“Come on, you know I love it baby,” Ryce replied, his eyes filled with a sense of begging.

She watched as Yoguri spread her legs, revealing thick white liquid dripping down her sex. That was enough for her to feel the heat rise in her chest.

“Are you gonna clean it up, Mare bear?” Yoguri’s voice teased, finding delight in her disgust. Marron was convinced Yoguri was a despicable human being, she more than anyone was the most unkind to her in this whole arrangement.

“I–I can’t even—” Marron was rendered speechless. Her fuming anger wasn’t even veiled at this point. He came inside of her? A strict push on her boundaries, crossed once again. “I’m leaving, you guys can clean up after yourselves.”

Ryce jolted upright, panic flashing across his features. “Where the hell are you going?!”

Marron didn’t answer. She never would answer again.

The sound of the door slamming was all he needed to hear.

It was a sad sight that Trunks had never seen before.

Marron Chestnut, disheveled with her golden tresses tousled down, her fingers raking through her scalp. A highball glass of amber fluid sitting idly beside her. It was as if she was hiding from the world. Trunks couldn’t just ignore this, could he?

He knew he had a habit of pushing her too far, having her work such an important meeting on the weekend was part of it. But, for as irritating as she was…always sharp tongued, armed with an arsenal of comebacks— Trunks knew that she was a wickedly good assistant.

Potentially one of the best that he had ever had. Though he’d never admit it.

She was likely decompressing, and didn’t want to be around him. But somehow, he always seemed to interject himself when he knew she didn’t want to see him. As he approached her, he glanced at her glasses that were thrown off to the side.

However this display was not her typical standoffish composure that he had grown so accustomed to. No, this was someone totally different.

“The calm and composed—” Trunks began with dry amusement, reaching around her to grab the glass beside her as his arm draped lightly over her shoulders.

The motion startled her, as she flinched and pulled away. In doing so, Trunks immediately noticed the tears that strained her eyes, and something about the look in her eyes made his chest tighten.

What could have possibly caused her to be like this?

“Miss…Chestnut…”

The usual sharp edge in his voice was dulled. This was the closest proximity he’s gotten to her face. His heart was unsteady in his chest, painfully thumping at a deafening decibel. Perhaps it was the light, or maybe he never took the time to notice it but those pools of aquamarine rooted him to his seat.

Her cheeks were flushed and her lashes wet enough that they congealed together. Somehow, the dull assistant had arrested his breath and made him wonder how her drink tasted on her lips.

He was losing it. Certainly.

“Oh…Trunks,” her voice slurred softly as she leaned her head against him. “I’m so tired of it all.”

Trunks stiffened his entire body, though the weight was hardly there it felt as though a thousand tonnes were pressed against him. It seemed everything was reminding him of Hazzel, Marron’s eyes seemed to glisten the same way down to the way she said his first name.

It must have been the lack of having her around. Had to be.

“Tired of what?” he asked gently

“Stupid Ryce,” Marron groaned against his shoulder.

The name hit Trunks like a freight train. Ryce? Part of him was relieved he didn’t cause this situation, and of course, why would he do anything of the sort. But yet despite that, it still bothered him.

“Guy troubles?” Trunks asked, as his hand awkwardly pressed against her arm.

“The lot of them,” she sighed, “you especially.”

It may have been a throwaway line to Trunks, but to Marron, he was a new source of stress. With the increasing complications that his relationship with Hazzel had and her wanting to run desperately from him and just allow things to return back to the professionalism that she was always supposed to have.

He choked on his own laughter. “Me?” Trunks' voice was pitched in disbelief as he continued to observe her reaction. The lack of her clarity was a source of his personal discomfort. “What did I do?”

“Everything,” Marron groaned.

“That’s hardly fair,” Trunks rolled his eyes, before there was a pregnant pause settling between them. “So.. who’s Ryce,”

“My Ex.”

Trunks glanced back over to her, there was a surprise in how bitter her voice sounded. “This guy sounds like he was a real piece of work,”

“He was,” Marron huffed, “I can’t believe I married the guy.”

It suddenly dawned on Trunks that he knew next to nothing about his assistant. Something about imagining his assistant, who was such an antithesis of everything he believed a seductive woman would be had been touched in a way he couldn’t fathom… it bothered him.

Trunks’ gaze lifted curiously. “You were married, Ms. Chestnut?”

Marron Chestnut in a wedding dress, saying vows to the man she apparently loved…being close to said man. It made his chest twist in a way that felt so foreign. Why did he care to ask? He didn’t care. He shouldn’t.

After all, she was just his boring old assistant…right?

Marron drunkenly chuckled as she shook her head knowingly. “Technically, still am…but separated…I was never enough for the guy, he made a fool out of me every day,” Marron muttered as she focused on the drink sitting in front of her. “Shit…I don’t even think I know who I was by the time I got out of the relationship.”

There was a quiet pause as regret suddenly rang through her. She was opening up to Trunks right now, as Marron— she shouldn’t even be doing this but her judgement was so impaired that it was too easy to open up. Besides, the lines were blurring between Hazzel and her.

“Ugh, I told myself I wouldn’t talk to you about any of this,” Marron pressed her wrists against her eyes before she pushed the drink away.

Trunks watched her in silence, and was fully fascinated. It seems like once more his scientific curiosity of her inner mechanism got the best of him, it was intriguing seeing the Ice Queen that tormented him defrosting right before him. She seemed truly human to him now, and it was a disconcerting thought.

He was no stranger to her emotions. Trunks could tell, she was much like him in that aspect. The regret in the vulnerability, whether it be drunk or sober. In fact, he lived eternally in that shame and regret.

“You know, since you’re clearly impaired…I’ll let you in on a secret too, Ms. Chestnut…it’s one I haven’t told anyone so don’t go blabbing,” Trunks said as he took a swig from her drink, “I was engaged and still haven’t gotten over her yet.”

Somehow, through that liquid courage he was able to admit his truth. Those words that he never dared to utter every time he dared to think of love, of companionship…of her. If only, he hadn’t been who he was in his youth.

If only he still wasn’t the same man that sought women to drown the noise in his mind.

Perhaps that is what terrified him of Hazzel. Even if she was as elusive as they came, she managed to look him in the eye the way he always wished his ex-fiancee would. He lived in self pity, wanting to be loved and yet fearing it more than death itself.

“Sounds like you have it worse than me,” Marron said, her gaze pitying the man that sat beside her.

“You’re hilarious,” Trunks responded dryly. “But lately, it’s felt better, you will get through it too.”

Marron knew why—and she also knew that she would need to bring that newfound relief to a screeching halt for him. The unfortunate circumstance that she will need to reject and cut things off as Hazzel due to him getting too close, and too real.

At the very least…Marron knew that he would never go after her as herself. She will always be the bird with clipped wings that refused to fly for fear of falling violently to its death.

Marron’s eyes flickered on his lips, maybe it was the fact she was so beyond tipsy at the moment. But, much to her dismay, his lips looked so kissable, and he was holding her so close. But somehow she knew this wasn’t right.

She knew she was drunk, she knew every look and every touch was magnified. It was an odd encapsulation of a moment where she could have drunkenly believed he saw through her disguise and saw Marron instead of Hazzel.

The burning in her loins and the secrecy of Hazzel’s desires still broke the surface. That wild, reckless emotion of attraction was deadly.

And it stirred a forlorn feeling inside of her.

It wasn’t just the alcohol that was allowing the mask to slip, her boldness was present and breaking down Marron’s senses. Marron’s lips brushed against his cheek, her mind misty and full of fog as she pulled away.

“You’re a sweetie, sometimes.”

“S-Sweetie?” Trunks’s voice cracked, as his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. She must truly be more drunk than he imagined.

“You need to lie down, Ms. Chestnut,” he replied firmly, grasping her arms and holding her at arms length. Sirens blared in his head that this was not what she meant to do, this was the alcohol making her misbehave.

She took that cue to heart as her weary eyes closed as she leaned against him, falling soundly asleep. Somehow he ended up with Marron Chestnut resting beside him, quiet, flushed and vulnerable. And Trunks was unsure if he wanted to let her go.