#and like one thing was the coffee/ lack of sleep/ stress response thing that seems like part of widely accepted hc

[averlym]

Im sorry but can you do 45 angst for parrlyn? U don't have to tho!

45- "leave" (very quick doodle for you!)

[missmeinyourbones]

Hiii leah! congratulations on your milestone, I'm so excited for this event and grateful for your wonderful writing! I'd like to request levi x "I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep" if that's alright, bc would've could've should've is my whole life. thank you <3

I FIGHT WITH YOU IN MY SLEEP (l. ackerman)

L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Things are off between the two of you—or maybe just you.

Because Levi seems fine, not that he's one for dramatic displays of emotion, but recently, the argument you had a few days ago seems to be the furthest thing from his mind.

Which is valid because you talked about it, discussed it like adults and apologized. The case should be closed and you should be moving on.

But for some strange reason, you can't.

The tiny argument that spewed into something much larger has been eating away at your decaying insides for days, now.

So much so, you're actually losing sleep over it.

After your standard good morning greetings, you fall into your usual breakfast routines. Levi sits at the kitchen table, sipping from his steaming mug and admiring the calmness of the morning from the window. You wipe down the counter, counting your breaths and hoping you can calm down before your anxiousness bubbles over and—

"You were in my dream last night," you casually breathe, pouring creamer into your coffee and watching the colors melt together with your spoon.

It's such a funny thing to admit. Like he's a high school crush slowly taking over your subconscious and not the man who's seen every inch of you and still chooses to see more, it feels oddly intimate telling him this.

You hear Levi kiss his teeth, "It's too early for you to be filthy."

"Not that kind of dream."

You wait for his response, and when it doesn't come, you turn from the counter to face him. Eyebrows raised and wanting him to take the bait, you're surprised to find him already staring back at your impatient stance.

"You're not gonna ask me about it?" you shake your head, a bit irritated with his lack of interest in something that's been rotting away inside of you.

He takes a deep breath, one that would sound exasperated if you didn't know him. But you do, and you know it's one of faux irritation. "And what was I doing in your dream?"

"We were fighting," you speak softly, feeling the tension rise at your few words. "It was pretty bad, too."

You watch your lover scowl in thought, eyebrows furrowed when he quips.

"Fighting? About what?"

"I don't even remember," you say truthfully, and Levi can sense the sudden change in your tone. You're tired, exhausted, from both lack of sleep and something far stronger. "I just remember being so mad at you and I couldn't stop crying."

He watches you carefully like a cat contemplating its next move. He purses his lips in thought, taking in your stressed expressions and bitten fingernails. Still unsure of the cards handed to him, he merely hums in response.

Wrong move, he quickly realizes.

You speak with slight hostility when you scoff, "That doesn't concern you?"

"Why would it concern me? It was just a dream," he tries to put out the flame before it spreads. "You told me last week that you had a dream about growing a tail."

"Dreams can mean stuff sometimes," you're quick to spell it out for him.

He tries to tease, "And what does you growing a tail mean?"

The wrinkle forming between your brows practically screams at him—another wrong move.

Exasperated, your gaze falls back to the now mixed beige of your coffee when you weakly give in, "Levi, I'm talking about the fighting one."

After a moment, Levi hums again, which is his way of telling you to continue. It's what he does when he wants to let you know he's still listening, still wants to talk to you, even if he doesn't know exactly what to say.

You make things a bit easier for him when you sigh into your mug, "Sometimes dreams can manifest subconscious thoughts or feelings."

"So you're subconsciously mad at me," Levi states with little room for argument, finally connecting the dots of your stubborn riddles.

And when he finally gives you the answer you've been looking for, all confidence is lost and you meekly shrug and shrink beneath his hardened gaze.

"Hey, look at me." His voice is soft yet stern, commanding your attention when his thumb gently holds your chin upwards.

You let him, and when he sees the tiny tears brewing at your lash line, he whispers.

"Is this about what happened last week?"

Yes, you want to scream in his stupid face. How can someone as smart as him be so ignorant at times?

Instead, you choose to weakly mumble out a small, "I dunno, maybe."

"Wanna go talk some more about it? Maybe..." you practically hear the fight in his hesitancy when he weakly offers, "…in the bath?"

He fights off a smile when he sees your face twitch in thought, clearly shocked at his offer.

"Am I still dreaming? Or is this you finally admitting you actually like taking baths with me?" your question comes out half teasing half disbelieving.

"I like making you happy," he corrects, "and I'd like to ease your subconscious, if that's the case."

This time, it's you that's humming for him to continue, loosening your stance and letting him gently shove you in the direction of the bathroom.

Levi takes it as a win, because if him sitting in a lukewarm bath with you for a half hour, rehashing an argument he thought was already resolved, means you feel better—means you're back to dreaming your usual dreams about growing extra body parts and doing unspeakable things to one another—then he'll just have to swallow his pride and sit in that damn tub.

"Besides," you hear him mumble from behind you, "I'm supposed to be the one who can't sleep. You're supposed to be the one who hogs the blankets and kicks me in the middle of the night."

[letiel]

A Grim's Job - Werewolf/Modern AU

CW: Implied Abuse, mentions of Death

Ty would’ve preferred to avoid public transportation. Not just today, as a rule. The train and monorail were okay, buses were worse. Whenever Khasar would drive them was best. He endured it for Kai’s sake. Being out around people did seem to help even if Kai avoided interactions at all costs. He had an iron clad personal bubble and people seemed to notice and give him space. The combination of giant, scruffy man with a bad aura and a giant black dog with a bad aura would do that but it didn’t stop people from giving them funny glances and it didn’t stop people from smelling.

The train car they were in rattled a little on its track. Ty could feel every bump under his belly and chest. When they were seated, Ty lay underneath Kai, behind his legs, to avoid being stepped on. It was the proper service dog thing to do, and it was easy to smell if Kai became distressed from this close.

He could also smell everyone else.

Four seats up there was a man with weed in his backpack. The lady standing to Kai’s left had a mango matcha smoothie. Someone needed to change that baby’s diaper twenty minutes ago. The oil on those train wheels was new. Thank goodness they regularly disinfected these seats…

Those were the good smells.

There was an elderly lady sitting a few seats away. Ty could smell her struggling kidneys and hear her choking on each breath. She had protested when the young lady had offered to give up her seat but relented after the train had started moving. He could smell the time she had left, only a few weeks. She had a lingering hospital smell about her. Undoubtedly, she had received the grave news from her doctor earlier that day.

A business man on his phone was trying to whisper to be polite, but it was obviously too urgent to wait. Some risky investments weren’t panning out the way he had hoped, and he was frantically promising more late nights to whomever he was speaking too. Ty knew from the smell of the coffee, the upcoming lack of sleep, and the preexisting heart condition the man had, that a year from now there would be a small and intimate funeral.

Ty could smell the cancer in the man at the end of the car. He was a young guy who likely had no idea what was growing inside him. It was too late to treat now; it was stage three by this point. It wasn’t a sense he could describe if he had access to his words, but Ty knew the bike messenger had maybe three months left. The man was attributing his exhaustion, upset stomach, aches, and pains to stress from his job. Ty had heard him whispering on the phone earlier to a lover, discussing vacation plans for the following year.

There was a thud sound from immediately across from Kai. There was a woman and her daughter seated there. The six-year-old was trying to entertain herself by swinging her legs back and forth, letting the heels of her My Little Pony shoes hit the pole on the underside of the seat she was too small for. She had been staring at Ty since they had sat down at the prior stop. A healthy, energetic, obnoxious little child. Bless her mother trying to instill good manners, struggling to explain why service dogs needed to be left alone.

“Can I pet that puppy?!” the little girl called across to Kai.

One of Kai’s legs squeezed a little tighter into Ty’s side. Even as dissociative as Kai could be in public there was still an instinct to protect.

“You can’t pet that puppy,” the mother calmly explained.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it has a job. Do you see that it has a vest on? That’s to tell people that its busy and needs to focus.”

“What kind of job?”

“I don’t know.”

The little girl kicked her legs some more. “Is your puppy a boy or a girl?” she called to Kai.

“Boy,” Kai said stiffly.

“He’s really pretty.”

“Thanks.”

The little girl looked at her mom and then back to Kai. “Can I pet him?”

Ty could smell Kai’s annoyance but to his credit the man managed to keep it from his very firm response. “No.”

She seemed disappointed but didn’t cry or scream or throw any tantrum.

Ty flicked his tail and then bumped Kai’s leg with his nose, wiggling his way free to stand up. He shook himself to get the blood flowing back to his legs and to fix the harness that always shifted uncomfortably when he laid down for long periods.

His priority was always going to be Kai; they were brothers, Kai was his ‘church’ and Ty loved him dearly. But Kai didn’t need him right at this moment.

Ty stretched and yawned, all long legs and white teeth and then stepped across to the little girl to put his head delicately in her lap.

She gasped and very gently pet his face with both hands before either Kai or her mother could protest. Her little fingers gently patted his nose and she scratched behind his ears, barely getting into his plush fur at all.

“What’s his name?” she asked reverently.

“Ty.”

“Hi, Ty,” she whispered, and he wagged his tail for her. Very slowly Ty wiggled his back legs forward so he could sit in front of this little girl without moving his head from her lap.

They stayed that way for a while. A couple stops passed by and she didn’t once stop petting and whispering to Ty. Even putting her face in the fur behind his ears as if everything she told him was a secret.

Her name was Elena. She was in first grade and loved her teacher and school. When she was all grown up, she wanted to be a scientist or a ballet dancer (she was still deciding). Macaroni and cheese was her favorite food but not if there were peas in it. She didn’t like peas. Elena liked trains but wasn’t very excited to be on this one today. She usually lived with her mother but for the first time in a long time, she was going to spend a weekend with her father. Elena told Ty that her father would yell a lot and throw things when he was angry and make her mom cry but that she was going to try and be brave anyway.

All the while, Ty listened, leaning into her, letting her tug on his fur and put little braids in the longer tufts until he heard the announcer and felt Kai gathering up the leash.

The train came to a squeaky halt and Ty stood up when Kai did.

“Thank you for letting me pet your puppy,” Elena said politely. She gave Ty a kiss on his nose, and he very softly licked her cheek. She giggled.

Kai grunted in response, and they stepped off the train where Ty made them stop off to the side. Elena was waving to them from the window as the train started to move again and he watched until they were gone. The weight of things settled on Ty’s shoulders then and when he walked with Kai it was with equal dissociation.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kai grumbled a little as they crossed the street. Ty knew his brother was more annoyed that he was forced to interact than upset at Ty for comforting a little girl.

It was his job to care for Kai, but it was also his job to be a herald of death.

Elena had less than a day.

It was the least Ty could do.

[hanna-symphony]

Today I want to talk with you all about a part of my identity that affects every aspect of my life and work and relationships.

I am a PDA-er.

“Pathological Demand Avoidance” is a medical descriptor for a specific type of autistic profile. (It may also be an ADHD and C-PTSD profile, as this neurotype is under-researched.)

In the neurodiversity paradigm, we prefer these words for the acronym -

Pervasive Drive for Autonomy

Prime Directive: Autonomy

This identity term describes a phenomena where any stimulus perceived as a demand signals danger to the unconscious mind, triggering a stress response.

Commands and imperatives are the most obvious sorts of demands. No one likes being told what to do, but this goes far beyond that.

🧡 For a PDA-er the statement “no one likes being told what to do” can feel dismissive of our disabling struggles. This is not about “not liking” something.

The demands I struggle with the most are things which my conscious mind actually wants and desires but some part of my brain still perceives as demands.

🧐 All of the following can be perceived by the unconscious as demands: direct instructions, schedules, school assignments, to do lists, constructive criticism, personal goals, aspirations, mantras, ambitions, deep desires, the “proper” way to do things, social hangouts, dates, getting to work on time, making and eating food, needing to go to the toilet, needing to go to sleep for the night, and the list could go on and on.

For PDAers, the moment that our unconscious perceives our conscious will as an imperative or a “should,” the fight/flight/freeze response activates.

Almost anything can be perceived by the unconscious as a demand. Whatever we PDA-ers perceive as a demand will unavoidably trigger our fight/flight/freeze stress response. This can manifest as aggression, mania, literally running away, depression, brain fog, nausea, pain, or executive dysfunction.

If you don’t struggle with this or other disabilities, you may find it hard to imagine living with a body that seems to rebel against your conscious will at every turn.

If I say “I need to eat now,” my body says No.

If I say “It’s time to take my medicine,” my body says No.

If I say “I really want to meet my friend for coffee,” my body says No.

If I say, “Yes I will do as you have asked,” my body says No.

If I say, “I should really drink more water,” my body says No.

This operating system requires me to approach the world in a different way to most people. My work and self-care and relationships have greatly suffered from lack of understanding of how my body system operates.

Learning about PDA helped me stop judging and shaming myself.

(Here are my top two favorite articles about PDA if you want to learn more!

Highly Sensitive Neuroception May Be At The Heart of PDA *The original link for this website no longer exists* A documented copy of the article is here - http://www.buildsomethingpositive.com/wenn/PDA%20Neuroception.docx [❌ original link - https://pathologicaldemandavoidanceaprofileofautism.com/2019/06/25/pda-neuroception-the-five-fs/]

Pathological Demand Avoidance or Needing to Be Free http://www.sallycatpda.co.uk/2019/12/pathological-demand-avoidance-or.html)

Now that I understand why I am so frequently triggered by even my own mind,

I am working on shifting my internal dialogue to respect the unconscious process of my bodymind. The more I shift my language, the more I feel able to navigate the world without being triggered by the demands of my own making.

This shift requires a creative use of language to avoid making demands on myself. This is extra difficult as autistic person who relies on learned scripts for many processes. The scripts my parents and teachers and culture taught me are full of demands. The idea is to reframe everything as an option instead of an imperative so that my body doesn’t freak out and say No.

🎈Here’s what is working for me currently...

Menus instead of to-do lists

- I write down all the things I might want to or need to do. They are optional. I do not shame myself for not doing things that are written. I celebrate the things I do accomplish. If I finish a task that wasn’t on the menu, I often add it to the menu with a big check mark ✅ so I can see what I’ve accomplished.

Encouraging open ended self-talk instead of positive commands

- “I have to” or “I need to” is immediately a demand. I’ve been having success with phrasing things as “I will ____” or “How can I ____?”

Self-EMDR to shift how I perceive alarms and scheduled meetings

- Things that were once demands may not always be perceived as demands. There was a time I could not use any alarm. I can now use musical alarms because I did a self-EMDR process around my fear response to auditory alarms. Meetings are still hit or miss for me. Some days my body says No to my schedule, other days my schedule feels comforting, and I’m still working on figuring out the difference.

Heaps of understanding and kindness and gentleness for myself.

- It can be so easy to fall into shame spirals because of PDA. The self-talk of “why can’t I just do the thing, I’m such a failure” is a very old record that my mind likes to play over and over again for old times sake. Learning how to escape those spirals and be gentler with myself is an evolving process.

🤷🏻‍♀️ Somehow I’ve managed to create these infographics for you all: linktr.ee/TraumaGeek

🙈 Talking with people about trauma, polyvagal theory, and/or neurodiversity gives me a “special interest overrride” where my excitement about the topic somehow prevents a stress response for a thing that would usually be perceived as a demand, so if you want to schedule with me, you can click here: www.calendly.com/TraumaGeek

🙏🏻🥰❤️ I am eternally grateful to the patron supporters who helped me believe I could build my own vocation and avoid the disabling demands of traditional employment. www.patreon.com/TraumaGeek

#actuallyautistic #neurodivergent #PDA

[anthonybialy]

Entitled to Stagnate

Stress should be illegal.  Vile Republicans will never care enough to stop profiting off human misery somehow, so forget Congress stepping in to help the most vulnerable.  Joe Biden must be heroic enough to ink an executive order banning icky feelings.  Him doing so will be the last time he has to worry, so there’s a personal motive.

Avoiding anxiety creates nervousness.  Nobody enjoys feeling overwhelmed, pressured, or uneasy.  But disquieting feelings result from having tasks to complete.  The best way to make jitters vanish is by crossing items off one’s to-do list.  I mean after they’re done.

We all have junk to address.  Only relatively inexperienced people are shocked.  Geezers ranting about how whippersnappers are truly different this time around is a habit far older than even the incumbent.  But today’s particularly soft brats make tiresome charges from tired elders credible.  Random fate gives those who had enough wisdom to be born earlier unearned standing when they claim records sound better.

It’s tough to get anything done.  But sophisticated contemporary workforces feel completing tasks shouldn’t be the point of some job.  Cruel companies expect something in exchange for payment as if their role was to create something other than prestige for their corporate family.  Profit goons would rather a company make money than provide mental health days.  I have self-diagnosed and decided I need to sample a beer flight in lieu of completing my supervisor’s so-called requirements.

Never answering what work is leads to getting none of it finished.  One-third of the day spent droning is nothing more than a trade for cash.  Giving something in return seems so unfair.  Negotiating for how much doing a thing is worth resembles the process of acquiring goods and services, which was a cruelty removed by the directional Germany that was too far ahead of its time.  Treating employment as an automatic ticket to dignity and high living will make the shift suck way more.

It’s less enjoyable than framed to never get hired in the first place.  An indefinite self-help break ceases being relaxing once bills arrive.  Federal bribes are unhelpful when all that guaranteed cash suddenly isn’t worth much.  How can that be?  It’s money!  But diabolical amalgamations raise prices just because their costs increase.

Inner struggles are to be taken seriously, particularly by those who claim to have them without evidence.  The difference between genuine issues and everyday strain is exactly the sort of thing public schools don’t teach.  The one thing as bad as shrugging of suffering is exploiting concerns about it to be unproductive.  Nothing could be more damaging to those genuinely struggling than those afflicted by nothing other than responsibilities claiming to be fellow members.

Doing the slightest amount of work is bound to feel challenging.  Wondering what work-evading phenomenon will trend next is irrelevant to the overall desire to quarter-ass responsibility.  Not going above any tasks is great if the goal is mediocrity.  It’s better to feel entitled to executive status.  A job doesn’t define a person, although refusing to take pride in doing it does.

A salary is not enough.  Life costs 20 percent more than listed.  Don’t you dare round down, you heartless capitalist.  The tipping era is tipping over.  Paying more than the price is totally just a request.  Ignore the raised eyebrow followed by a furrowing brow when you don’t feel like paying above the cost of countertop coffee.

Wondering just why it’s so tough to afford things like an indoor place to sleep is for haters.  The perpetually underachieving apply their lack of foresight to politics for consistency.  Those very mandates they demand make every last thing too costly to even attempt bothering to acquire.  Preposterous minimum wages along with time off for every request lead to a permanent childhood where government is a helicopter parent.

Outfoxed idlers keep voting for policies that keep them from getting ahead.  We obviously need more.  Democrats incessantly claim to be on the side of the poor, which is true if keeping them that way while exploiting fears and stoking envy counts.  There are more fulfilling ways of maintaining hope.

Tension dodgers don’t care how much nervousness they create for others.  It’s just not tricky enough during the inflation era to keep a commercial outpost running.  Finding a way to placate employees who treat each pay period as a threat to sanity aren’t about to go above and beyond to earn a promotion.  Running off to lawyers and politicians is a new type of career.

Complaining about hardness paired with unfairness reflects an issue with life itself.  Basic living is bound to contain burdens.  Every day features challenges, especially while attempting to acquire enough to meet needs.  Presuming needs should meet you leads to them being far more elusive.  Nobody particularly enjoys having to acquire housing payments and multiple personal daily energy servings.  If the constant struggle feels taxing, take it up with the cosmos.

There must be a trick, figure amateur magicians.  Wondering how previous generations achieved presently unobtainable goals like affording dwellings is exacerbated by confusion over the mean laissez-faire bad old days.  It could be work ethic paired with a lack of phony pledges offers the optimized scenario for earning one’s own way.  It’s much more reassuring here in the advanced future where we’re promised everything and end up with nothing.  Can’t we legislate against that?

[hwang-jeany]

It ended...

It seems a bit ridiculous to me now that the two semesters I spent as a third year education student will be an endless day to day frustration with a mix of burst of happiness from time to time, of which, it really helped that I have an eye and a heart to see what can make me happy even in the worst of situations. At times, it is the same eye and heart that makes me awfully disappointed and downtrodden. So awful that it makes me wish that I am like my college classmate, who seems like failing Calculus 2 is of no matter just because she can retake the subject anyways. Or that, I am wondering, how can they be gleeful over a season which makes me all gloomy inside? That it takes me a military-like command, just to make myself be useful as usual, and more importantly, to make myself, do things with a care which abides the principles of love. Those are the times which, terrible I might be in recalling what should be recalled, or being absent-minded (due to lack of sleep) makes me seem like a laughable caricature in front of the class whenever I do presentations, of which I do not mind the attention, it just slightly worries me that the professor will perceive that I do not take my task seriously. On the contrary, my professor actually liked it in a way that it also makes him laugh. My classmate whom he is close to, told me that this professor actually liked me as a student. She also told me that he likes seeing me during the class. I do not know if she is just momentarily pleasing me, but I have now given myself the pleasure to take it to be the truth just because I like the validation.

One of the great struggles is that in little time that we are allowed, I have this sense of wanting to produce the best output that I can. Of course, in reality, just to comply in time due to fear of not being graded at all for a late submission, I have submitted sub-par outputs or sometimes, and with no excuse, an output produced out of laziness. This attitude persisted even more during thesis writing, I wanted our thesis to be useful, to be well-rounded if not very good even with little time and a very hectic schedule. I felt the crushing pressure of "good things do not come easily." How more of a sobre saliente one that I am aiming for?

There are many cups of coffee that I drank that perhaps I should have counted it just for the sake of sentimentality, or the times where I walk along the path towards the plaza after class dismissals, mostly tired, thinking ahead of what is to be done or just desiring to gorge a heavy amount of food, or even thinking, am I in the right way of doing things? Am I ensuring that myself is well despite my commitments? It feels terrible to know the answer without really answering it at all. That, all that I can do for a while is to silently cry my heavy heart and mind to God.

Remarkably, I also had disputes with my parents during these times, even to the end. Which fortunately, is resolved as soon as a day or even a couple of hours have passed. The reason is that I am not taking care of myself well enough. In between those times are where I found myself fearing some events which I dread to be repeated again, or that, memories which came hunting me during stressful times. I forgot that I also spent countless good memories. It does not help that I seem to have a lot on my plate every single day of the semester. These quarrels with my parents made me feel regretful of what I have said, telling myself that it may have been a lot better if I just keep it to myself as I usually do. Yet, I also feel that on one side, I have opened a part of myself which I never really dared to show my parents, which I think is partly responsible for the subtle line of distance between us before. Still I regret that, because I know it hurt them also and I hate it. I hate that what I have just done is so self-serving but I am also happy because I felt comforted by the fact that I cried in front of them because I am really, really tired. But I still cannot stop thinking, all awhile that, that I am not useful to them at that time, that I should have not cried.

It really is troubling when I look back.

Yet, there is one time where during a seminar, I slept on the shoulder of my classmate. Of course, my eyes are closed but while hearing the speakers, I am also fixated on the sound of raindrops. Perhaps, I also like the gentle color of the sky.

I thought, how beautiful, even when I am so tired. I also thank God that I am not getting sick to the point where I cannot do my tasks. I wished to Him in my heart, all things that I cannot put into words.

[hotshot624]

Daddy! Eddie x little! Reader and he helps her go into little space

Okay I'ma be completely honest with you, I've never written a fic on Tumblr and the time I did write a fic like on Wattpad, I was like in 6th grade. However I'ma try to write something just for you! (Also if it sucks just tell me. I'll @ some pretty good accounts that would make a completely better fic then whatever I'm gonna make)

Daddy!Eddie x little!reader: helping reader into little space

You've been having a very difficult week. Highschool had been particularly difficult with finals coming up and with you being in honors, it just seemed to make things worse. You've been running on almost two whole days with absolutely no sleep what so ever and it was finally catching up to you. You wanted nothing more than to just slip into little space and forget about everything troubling you. But you knew you couldn't. You had studying to do and by god you were going to do it even if it was the last thing you did. Plus your parents weren't home and their was no one to tell you to take scheduled breaks. Or so you thought.

It was ten fifteen at night where you were sitting in your bedroom surrounded by books, studying flash cards, different empty cups of which used to be filled with coffee, and other things that you weren't even sure of anymore. Your room was an absolute mess and that wasn't helping the mental state you were in at all. It felt like the mess was cluttering your brain and it was making it difficult for you to think properly, making you more stressed then you needed to be. Tears of frustration started to form in your eyes as you had to reread the same paragraph over again because the last few times you read it weren't sticking. Just as you were about to scream in anger you heard loud repeating banging at your front door. And there was only one person in the world who would pound at the door at this time of night.

You got up from your spot on the floor and ran as fast as you could towards the front door, almost tripping three times, before you threw open the door to be greeted by your favorite metal head.

"Hey Y/N! How's my favorite rockstar doin-" Eddie tried to say, only to be crushed in a giant hug from you.

"Wow! You trying to kill me? Not that dying from a hug from you sounds so bad but is there any reason in particular you tried to run me over?" He jokingly asked, having wrapped an arm around your waist and was looking down at you.

You just shook your head, burying your face in his chest. You knew that if he saw how exhausted and how close you were to crying, he'd try to get you to take a break and be little and you didn't have time for that. Not with all that studying you had to do.

'Speaking of studying', you thought to yourself, 'I should probably get back to that'. You wanted so desperately to be curled up in his arms watching cartoons with a paciy in your mouth as he rocked you, but you just couldn't do that. Well that's what you thought anyway.

"Hey babe, are you okay?" He asked, now getting concerned with your lack of verbal response.

Blast! He's on to you. Just play it cool and maybe he won't notice how stress you are.

"Yeah I'm fine! Anyway I can't hang out with you right now. I have a bunch of studying I need to get back to and the finals are coming really soon so I have get back to my work, sorry" you tried to rush out not making eye contact with him as you turned to go back to your room.

"Finals? What fina- Wait do you mean the finals that are like three weeks from now? Those finals?" He asked slightly bewildered, following you to your room only to stop dead in his tracks upon seeing the state of your room.

"Jesus H. Christ" he whispered to himself (even though his room has looked far worse let's be honest)

"Yes Eddie, those finals. I need to make sure I'm prepared and ready for them because I know there gonna be hard and it's- I- just...It's gonna be hard okay! I need to do this so just leave! Please!" You snapped at him.

Why couldn't he see how important this was for you? You didn't have time to mess around! Right?

"Babe, the only thing your preparing yourself for is a mental break down. Your putting too much stress on yourself for something I KNOW your gonna do great on, by the way. You need a break so your can rest and not stress yourself into a panic attack." He concluded looking around trying to find some of your little stuff you had. "And I know just the way to do it".

As he was looking for your little stuff you tried to stop him.

"Eddie no. I can't. Not right now. Please just.....just leave." You didn't really mean that but you knew that if he stayed here you'd slip and wouldn't be able to continue your work.

Unfortunately for you, Eddie knew you didn't mean it too. When he finally found what he was looking for he turned around really quick and held it up to your face.

It was a little black bat stuffed animal he had gotten you when you first told him about your age regression. He got it to show you that he excepted this side of you with open arms and that he loved you no matter what. It had quickly became your comfort object and you used it everytime you were in little space.

"Well hi there Y/N! It's your favorite friend Midnight! I came to give you some good night snuggles!" Midnight - I mean Eddie said, using his funny little voice you loved so much especially when you were feeling small.

He was trying to get you to slip and it almost worked. You were holding it together just barley, but still you weren't slipping. You just couldn't. You looked away from him, reluctantly seeing as how you wanted to snuggle midnight desperately, and pouted slightly with with tears of frustration and exhaustion brimming in your eyes. Eddie knew you were gonna slip but you just needed a little push.

He sighed and lowers Midnight to the ground and took you in his arms, rocking you with his chin tucked under your head.

"Look I know you worried about this final, but you need to understand that stressing yourself out for this isn't going to help you. Your going to great cause your the smartest person I know and probably in the whole school. You'll do fine. And hey if it makes you feel better I'll help you with studying. I know I'm not that smart but I could read you flash cards and quiz you on stuff. So what do you say? Will you take a break for me? For your daddy?" He finally asked looking down at you, slightly worried that you wouldn't slip.

But he was relieved when he saw you nod with your bottom lip sticking out and hearing your whisper 'daddy' and holding on to him as tightly as you could.

"There's my little Rockstar" he said smiling super wide.

He picked you up and placed you on his hip crouching down to pick up midnight as he set you up for bed. He got you in you night time wear and placed your pacifier in your mouth, cooing at you for doing such a good job for him.

He walked you to you living room and put on some care bears for you to watch. He knew it was late but he thought you could stay up a little bit just to relax. As you were watching TV, he went into the kitchen, after finding your baby bottle from your room, and started making some angel milk. When he was done, he scooped you up into his lap and fed you the bottle.

You ended up drinking all of it before dozing off to sleep. Not before you felt Eddie place a good night kiss on your forehead and whispering how much he loves you.

In the end you did great on your finals. Eddie helped you along the way like he said he would. Doing flash cards with you and quizzing you on stuff. He helped you even more when you had to explain stuff to him because it seemed explaining stuff to Eddie helped you better understand what you were studying. He also made sure you took breaks in between. Either being little space breaks or just big space breaks. Eddie would always be there for you and you couldn't be more great full.

The End

Hope y'all liked the fic. Again this is my first ever fic here so sorry if it sucks. I think it was pretty good so please tell me what y'all think. It would be much appreciated. And thank you for requesting this. I think you might have just put me in the fanfic writing business lol. Love you guys 😘💜💜💜

[obsessedasusual]

Lonely No More - Four

Bishop Losa xOC Series

Series Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.

Series Warnings: Swearing, mentions/allusions to sex, alcohol

Note: 3.1k - PART FOUR LETS GO!!!

A week later Amalia found herself back at the clubhouse. It was quite unusual, the amount of times she had found herself at the club within the past month, even though from her count it had only been three visits. It was usually a lot less than that.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being around the clubhouse and hanging out with the guys, they were all great company when they wanted to be. But they weren’t her friends. They were her brother’s brothers. That’s what they were to her, and to them, she was their brother’s sister. They’d do anything for her at the drop of a hat, but it’s not like either side was going to invite the other over for a cup of coffee. Coco and Gilly may have been the exception to that, as she often saw them away from the club at Angel’s. And that one time they had been to hers for dinner after hearing Angel requesting all sorts of delicious sounding meals.

One thing Amalia could pride herself on was her cooking. She had always been a talent in the kitchen. Something she had picked up from her mother. Which is how she found herself outside Ezekiel’s trailer holding a baking tray of fresh enchiladas.

She knew her younger brother well enough to know when he wasn’t eating decent meals as often as he should, she put it down to the stress of prospecting for the club.

So she had taken it upon herself to cook a hearty meal that would keep for a little while in the fridge, at least then she could be certain that EZ actually had something good ready to go when his stomach growled.

Judging by the lack of sound coming from the trailer it was a safe guess that he wasn’t in. Instead she strode toward the clubhouse, not having a key to the trailer - since when did he lock that damn thing anyway?

There weren’t many of the guys around it seemed, only a few bikes parked up, EZ’s not among them.

Hearing her name called by Gilly on the porch, she made her way over, throwing a bright smile and a nod as a greeting toward Bishop and Taza who were seated at a picnic table near the cage, beers in hand.

Amalia hadn’t seen Bishop since he acted as her escape route from her date a week ago. However she had noticed when he rode by each day, early in the morning. It seemed that now she had learnt that he only lived down the road, he had changed his usual route to the club, checking in on her each morning from afar. She found herself smiling when she thought about it.

“She’s been around more recently,” Taza noted. Bishop hummed in acknowledgement, when his VP continued, “Bet you’re loving that.”

Bishop hummed again, eyes on Amalia chatting with Gilly, not at all paying attention to what Taza had said. So the long haired man spoke again, “If you stare any harder, you’ll burn holes in her fuckin’ back.”

Still nothing from his president. It’d been a long time since he had seen the usually calm, stoic man so away with the fairies, “You sleeping with her?”

That seemed to break Bishop out of whatever trance he was in, snapping his head to his VP, “What? No.”

Taza smirked at his sudden change in demeanor, he was deflecting, “But you want to be.”

It wasn’t framed as a question. Bishop kept his mouth shut, instead his eyes shot from Taza back to the beauty in question. The blatant staring caused Taza to bark out a laugh at his friend, receiving a grumbled, “Fuck off,” in response.

Taza caught sight of Gilly and Amalia wrapping up their conversation and called out to the Reyes sister, waving her over. Bishop dropped his forehead to rest against his beer bottle and let out a groan. She bid farewell to Gilly and went to join the charter’s one and two, tray of goods still in hand.

“Gentlemen,” she smiled in greeting, taking a seat opposite them and placing the tray in front of her on the table, “Lovely weather we’re having.”

It was a running joke to Santo Padre locals. It was always beautiful weather there, it had been a long time since they had any decent rainfall.

Taza made to lift the foil off one of the corners of the trays, “What’ve you got here?” Humming in delight when the pleasant, savory smell hit his nostrils, “This for us?”

Amalia smiled fondly at him. She had always liked Taza, he had such a calming aura around him, everyone wanted to be in his presence, “If you ask your prospect extra nicely he might be up for sharing.”

Taza pulled a face at that, causing Amalia to let out a light giggle. Bishop found himself smiling at the sound, quickly snapping himself out of it when he saw Taza smirk from the corner of his eye, he cleared his throat, “What do we have to do to get meal deliveries too?”

“Stock the bar with some apple juice and we can talk.” She teased.

Bishop winked at her, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Taza looked between the two, biting back the grin that was threatening to escape, he spoke directly to Amalia, “You got any plans tomorrow night?”

Bishop studied him from the corner of his eye, trying to work out what his game was.

Amalia quickly went through her diary in her head, she had a girls night planned for Saturday, but Friday was free, “Nope, free as a daisy. Why, what’s the plan?”

“Party. Low key, just the guys and a few others. You should come by.”

Amalia nodded in thought, “I guess I could make an appearance. Kick EZ out of his trailer for the night.”

Taza jumped in again, seemingly excited about his plan all working out, “Good. It’ll be a good night. Right, brother?” he smirked at his president who met his gaze with a glare, quickly covering it with a smile, turning back to Amalia.

“It’ll be great, sweetheart.” He gave her a kind smile.

“Well in that case, how can I say no?” she shrugged, “I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.” She moved to stand, pausing and pointing at the tray, “Could I leave this here with you guys? I’m not really in the mood to search all over town for that brother of mine.”

“As long as you don’t mind us taking a little helping as payment.” Bishop teased, before taking a sip of his beer.

Amalia grinned at him, “I’d expect nothing less, Mr President.” She waved at the pair as she retreated.

Bishop could feel the shit eating grin Taza was shooting his way.

“Shut the fuck up.” He muttered into his bottle. Taza threw his head back in laughter.

-

The next night Amalia found herself engaged in conversation with Nails, one of the club hangarounds. Nails, real name Stephanie, had started to make appearances at the club around five months ago and had become fast friends with Amalia.

The Reyes sister had no idea how she had ended up with that for a nickname. In fact, she had no idea how any of the guys ended up with their nicknames. She was particularly curious about Creeper. Surely that wasn’t one of those self appointed nicknames.

“I want a tough nickname too!” Amalia was two beers deep at this point, just enough to properly fall into her usual role of the social butterfly, “How good of a name is Nails? No one fucks with a chick called Nails.”

Nails laughed at her friend, “People call you A!”

Amalia gave her a dumb look, “A? Really?” Nails shrugged, giggling.

“Well what do you want us to call you?”

Amalia shook her head while taking a sip from her bottle, “No, doesn’t work like that. Gotta earn it. Earn my stripes.

“Like a tiger. Maybe you can be el tigre!” Nails’ eyes almost popped out of her head thinking she had come up with the best suggestion. She followed it with a dramatic, “Grrrr,”… it was an easy guess that she had had a few shots before Amalia had shown up. The latter threw her head back in laughter.

Bishop couldn’t help but follow the sound of her laughter from where he was sat with Taza and Hank, smiling to himself when he saw how much fun she was having. Amalia had thrown him a wide smile in greeting when she had turned up that night, about to make her way over to say a proper hello when Nails had snatched her and dragged her to a couch.

The VP and Sergeant shared a knowing look when they followed their leader’s gaze. Taza hadn’t said a word about Bishop’s little infatuation with the brown eyed beauty, apparently not needing too as Hank, similar to Taza, had a keen eye and had picked up on the way his President had perked up when she walked through the door, though he had been quick to disguise it.

Bishop was quietly thankful that neither Taza nor Hank made a comment about his reaction to anything related to Amalia. He knew they were the only two that would pick up on it, being the most insightful of the whole club. Honestly even if they did make a comment he had no idea what he’d say. He wasn’t sure why he was so taken by her recently.

They’d been friendly since the first time Angel introduced the pair when he first started prospecting years ago. Bishop had always thought she was gorgeous and enjoyed her company, but sometime within the past two months that seemed to change slightly.

Life was stressful, being President of an MC charter and all. So what if he found a bit of solace in admiring a beautiful woman from afar? It wasn’t hurting anybody. Bishop just had a little school boy crush.

A little while later Bishop found himself close to winning a game of pool with Riz against Creeper and Gilly. He stepped back from taking his turn and took a drag from his smoke, turning his head when he felt a warm hand on his forearm.

Amalia grinned up at him, “Hey, neighbour!” She placed a new beer in front of him, taking a quick sip of her own, “Thought I’d better make an effort to greet the man in charge.”

Bishop returned her smile, gratefully taking a swig from his bottle after stamping out his cigarette, “I appreciate the thought, sweetheart. You having a good night?” Almost hypnotised by the way her eyes brightened as she thought about her night so far.

“The best! I never realised what I was missing at these things.”

“Good,” he watched her watch the pool game in front of them, grin widening at her expression when Riz finally sunk the 8 ball, winning them the game, Creeper letting out a string of colourful words at his loss, “Bar stocked to your liking? Not sticking to the apple juice I see. Even after I ordered it especially for you.” He held his hand to his heart in a dramatic fashion.

Amalia’s hand shot out to playfully hit his chest, “That was the first drink I had tonight! It was delicious, so I thank you for your efforts, Mr President.”

“Didn’t take long for Nails to corrupt you did it? Apple juice then straight to shots?”

“Incorrect, I had a couple of beers in there somewhere too.” Her face turned smug.

Bishop held his free hand up in surrender, “My mistake.” His eyes landed on the friend in question approaching with a round of tequila shots.

“El tigre! Time to earn your stripes!” Nails had definitely been downing shit in the time Amalia had busied herself with Bishop.

Amalia handed a shot to Bishop, taking her own and cheersing the tiny glass with his and Nails, all three downing it in unison. Nails cheered while Amalia grimaced, tequila burning her throat, “No more shots for me, Steph.”

Her friend pouted at her before shrugging and running off to find Angel.

Her head whipped to Bishop when she felt him nudge her with his elbow and nodded toward the front door, signalling for them to get some fresh air. She hooked her arm through his and playfully dragged him through the clubhouse. Most at the party knew what a social butterfly Amalia could be so the sight really wasn’t surprising, it was interesting however, how the President let himself be dragged.

The cool air was a relief when it hit them. Amalia took a deep breath in relishing in the feeling, turning when she heard the flick of a lighter.

“We’re meant to be getting fresh air, Bish. There’s nothing fresh about those things.”

Bishop held the smoke in front of her face, “This one’s menthol. Minty fresh.”

Amalia shook her head and continued her mission down the steps, President in tow, to the couch that had apparently seen some unthinkable acts. Sighing in relief when she sunk into the worn cushions.

“This couch is comfier than it should be with all it’s been through.”

“It’s cute that you think it’s been limited to this couch,” Bishop sunk down beside her. Amalia’s hand raised to cover her face.

“It’s like you’re actively trying to get me away from this place.”

Bishop chuckled, “Never, sweetheart. Just making sure you’re aware of your surroundings.”

“Such a gentleman,” She giggled while taking a swig of her beer, “I like you guys. You’re all super sweet for a bunch of scary bikers. You surprised me the most, Mr President. Thought you were gonna be this brooding old man when I first met you.”

Bishop felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the almost compliment, “I am a brooding old man. I make an exception for you.”

Amalia grinned into the distance, “See what I mean? Such a gentleman,” she let a beat pass before speaking again, “Do you have a nickname, Bish?”

Bishop turned to her with his brows furrowed, “What?”

“A nickname! Everyone’s got one in the club. I just thought being President you’d have the best one.”

She was puzzled at his chuckling, moving around to sit on her knees and stare at him and his shaking shoulders, “What? Bishop!” She poked at his shoulder.

Bishop calmed down and swatted at her hand prodding at him, grabbing it lightly, “Sweetheart, Bishop is my nickname.”

That puzzled her even further, jaw going slack for a second, “You’ve gotta be fucking with me. I’ve gone the last six years thinking your name was Bishop! What’s your name?!”

He grinned at her, shrugging and taking a drag of his cigarette instead of replying. Struggling not to laugh at her annoyance.

Amalia, fueled on by the alcohol in her system, reached across him and snatched the smoke from his hand, holding it out of his reach, “Tell me or the smoke gets it.”

“You realise you’re threatening the club President right, sweetheart?”

She glared at his stubbornness, taking a pull from the cigarette herself, grimacing as she blew out, “Yuck, I haven’t smoked since college.”

He took the opportunity to take his cigarette back, “Leave the smoking to the scary bikers. Don’t wanna send you to an early grave.”

She huffed out a laugh, pulling her legs to her side and leaning against Bishop’s shoulder in a move that had the President freezing in place, Amalia obviously didn’t notice as she carried on their conversation, “I can’t believe that’s not your name,” she thought for a second, “actually, I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my name either.”

Thinking back over the years it was always sweetheart or querida, a couple of times it was even baby Reyes even though she was not the youngest sibling, a fact that Bishop was definitely aware of.

She felt his shoulders jostle as he chuckled, “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

She rolled her eyes, “I know for a fact you know my name.” She took another sip of her beer.

Bishop hummed out a chuckle of agreement. He allowed himself to be comfortable with her. Slouching his shoulder ever so discreetly so that Amalia would have to readjust herself closer to him.

“You had any more terrible dates lately?” He couldn’t help himself.

Amalia let out a groan, “No, thank God. Taking a break from the dating scene for a bit I think.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Bishop was curious, and a little tiny bit thrilled at the revelation.

She sighed against him, “Date burnout maybe. I dunno, I think I just have to start enjoying the moment you know?” He felt her lift her beer for another sip, “Plus, we live in a small town… there’s only so many eligible bachelors I can go through before I start swiping right on the fucking MC guys.”

Bishop hummed in understanding, pretending to know what ��swiping right’ meant.

“It is fun though,” she carried on with her rambling, one too many drinks in her system, “Dating. I like talking to people.”

That Bishop knew already. The times she had made an appearance at club parties he had noted how she darted from one group to the next. Chatting with anyone about anything.

“You do talk a lot.” He let out a chuckle when he felt her hit his chest and sit back up.

“And you talk right back so shut it.” Amalia teased, taking a second to wonder about his dating life, “You on Tinder, Bish?”

He almost choked on his drink at her question, “Have you ever seen me on tinder?” He had heard enough about the app from the younger guys in the club to understand you at least see profiles on it… right?

Amalia rolled her eyes, “No but I wouldn’t! I don’t have my age range set tha-” she stopped mid sentence, biting her lip to stop the embarrassed smile she could feel bubbling.

Bishop barked out a laugh at her discomfort, “Come on, set that what?”

She shook her head quickly, waving her hand offhandedly, “Doesn’t matter. You should try it! You might find the one for you!”

“How do you know I don’t already have the one?” He eyed her curiously. He was met with a dumb look.

“You’re sitting out here with me, Bishop. You ain’t fooling no one.”

Busted. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, lips quirking up in a knowing smile.

“I don’t think online dating is for me, querida.”

She shrugged, finishing off the rest of her bottle, “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

[mochikeiji]

Exact Replica

Request: "Hi! I really love you're writing and was wondering if you could do prompt 25+29 for Kuroo Tetsuro from Haikyuu? And could it be angst to fluff? (Maybe Kuroo was ignoring the reader due to lots of work/stress so reader feels neglected?) It's totally up to you tho! Ty so much!!"

25. "Would you notice if I was gone?"

29. "I didn't mean it."

↠ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x F!Reader

↠ Warning: angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy and kuroo's sad childhood

↬ Word Count: 3.7k

↠ a/n: okay this is my longest one yet. I swear the prompt screams angst to fluff so much that I go into it.

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

Kuroo Tetsuro achieved many great things in life after graduating from his university, with multiple acknowledgements and honors. Landed a position as a young CEO from a sports association at the age of 24, he had enough money in his pocket and bank to stable both of you financially. Life was good to him after having to build from the roots  of his ruined childhood; the only years of defeat Kuroo doesn't ever want to repeat. His father and mother were in the same position as you both are; owning your own shared house, good working environment, investments and stability, married.

Up until this day Kuroo questions why his parents split. They were fortunate that they had every thing completed, sadly it was the family and love that wasn't taken care of. You could be the happiest person, yet the void inside would still be there, Kuroo thought. Foolish people were to neglect something more valuable than any object that is given. Whether it was his father or his mother that stopped nurturing what they both bonded for the longest time, they were both fools to let each other go over something simple. He vows to never let history repeat itself.

But now the tables seemed to have flipped for the both of you. Your lives not far from what he had ran away from. If Kuroo could eat his words back, he would've now that he was running late yet again to coming home, forgetting about the promise he swore to about joining you after a full month of being occupied in his office. Coming home to have you already tucked in bed, but suffering in silence.

Most days he didn't bother greeting you in the morning and night. As a good wife, you understand. He was a busy man with an important position to maintain.

There were times where you'd be tapping your foot down on the floor as the clock strikes at an ungodly hour with your messages still not bothered to be replied to or even read. But you understand. He's working! Always doing what he can for the both of you like the good husband he wanted to be.

Even if sometimes he'd come home without a kiss or a simple, "I missed you." you understand. He's drained. No time for silly, endearing affections. You've done them a lot before back when you were younger. You're adults! Married! A married partner shouldn't be feeling so needy when the other was only doing their part.

Even when sometimes your insecurities would kick in whenever you'd visit your husband to drop his forgotten lunch again, only to see him flocked by different women; probably secretaries, interns, and assistance.

You understand. You always did took such good care of what you two have.

Well had.

His home office door slams shut, awakening you from your nap on the couch. Didn't Kuroo notice you when he walked in? Looking at the clock you noticed it was near 11:30 PM since he's arrived. Late again, maybe he hasn't eaten anything? No worries, you thought sadly. Stretching your aching muscles, you made your way to the dining area. So far dinner was left untouched once more. Just how many times has it gone to waste because you continued on cooking for two?

Or rather, three.

You beam at the sudden reminder while preparing your husband's plate. You'd always miss him whenever he'd come home, never had the chance to surprise him at the right time of your little discovery about a week ago. Fear did struck you because of the possible reactions he'd give, but you were so excited in sharing the news that a couple would share the equal happiness from, you couldn't contain it any longer.

Maybe you should've chosen another time unbeknownst to you how your husband was hunched over his desk, clearly in displease of the previous events that had occurred during the meeting back in his office. Hence why his work stack added more piles of predicaments, only fueling his headaches more wishing he could just lay down peace and quiet without disturbance.

He grumbles at the knock on his door, only typing furiously with emphasized taps on the keyboard. You, not sensing the emitting aura from the room took it as a response for you to enter. It surprised you a bit on how disordered his home office had become. It was obvious his coat had been thrown carelessly as it lays on the floor, wrinkled. Carefully placing the plate full of food on the small coffee table at the side, you gingerly picked up the article of clothing. Lightly trying to smoothen out the lines before hanging it behind his door and turning back to your husband.

"Tetsu?" cautiously calling out his name, you were kind of wary at the fact he didn't turn to see you unlike he does before whenever you'd enter the room. "I brought you your dinner. You came home pretty late." you tried to maintain the light hearted tone of your voice to hide how nervous you were in telling him the big news.

The atmosphere was kind of eerie when all he did was hum meekly from your words. Feeling a bit disheartened from his lack of attentiveness, still forcing a smile, you padded a little closer behind him with your hands clasps together. "I also wanted— well needed to tell you something." averting your eyes away from him as you prepared in your head. With a small hope he'd turn around for once after a long time.

"Can it be another time? I'm in the middle of stuff here."

Another time.

Why is it always next time? It's frustrating enough to not see him or have him speak to you even for a moment, but this made your stomach churn in an unpleasant way. Frowning at his poor reply, you gulped a few of your sentence back. Not fully trusting your emotions getting in the way, "You never really talked to me before, Tetsu.. I get that you're busy, but it wouldn't hurt for you to give a little minute for me."

Even just a second as long as he'd finally notice you.

"(Y/n) if you understand then why bother? You can clearly see I'm busy." chest huffing out a harsh sigh, still not bothering to turn around. Gripping your hands tightly, your patience were starting to snap. "You're always busy, Tetsu! I never had a proper conversation with you again." raising the volume of your voice a little made his actions come to a halt. Chair revolving around to face you. His appearance made it obvious how exhausted he has been; tousled hair that he usually takes longer to style, the light forming bags underneath his eyes from the screen and lack of sleep. The visible annoyance marked in his expression. But couldn't he say the same for you?

"Fine. Here, you have my attention now. Are we talking properly now?" his way of provoking you wasn't in the right place. It only made you look at him in disbelief because you've grown to never meet such side of your husband before. The news you had originally planned to share vanished from your head, replaced with the restrained emotions that has been building up inside your heart, tipping over.

"Tetsu, what is wrong with you?" looking at him now seemed like you were talking to someone else. His words were curt and short with no intention of prolonging the conversation, itching to get back to work so he could be done with it. "I already you I'm just busy. I would be done by now if you didn't want to talk properly with me." he says as if he's the one in distraught. "Seriously, nothing's wrong but I think you aren't. You're never like this."

"That's because you never cared to noticed in the first place!" wailing out the collapsed emotions that has weighed you heavily. It was too late to stop yourself from voicing out the things your husband left aside. A full month of being a good, understanding image of a wife thrown away to the rubbles without even appreciating the the long nights of you waiting up for him, cooking meals even though the next day they'd end up being in the trash, tolerating the coldness of the used to be warm sheets, putting up with the insecurities you took upon yourself to hide to avoid troubling your husband further when all you wanted was for him to assure you that he still loves you and only you.

The fascade you put up just for him crumbles. And it infuriates you more of how he still doesn't notice.

"(Y/n), you know I've been working! There's so much stuff that needs to be attended for just so you and I could live normally!"

"Tetsuro, we are stabled, it's okay to slow down a bit. How is this any normal to you when you don't even realize how this affects me?!"

The chair slides back roughly against the floor with a loud creak as he towers over you. Glowering eyes with a dark expression looming over his face, clearly now enraged. "You're being selfish right now. I'm here doing what I can to support us and all you could think of was you, you, you. Can't you see I'm doing this for you as well? God what else do you want from me, the world?"

"I only wanted you to give me your time and attention even just for a second, Tetsuro! I've been doing my best for you all this month and I never said anything to trouble you!"

It hurts when he said how you were being the selfish one when it was the opposite. It dawned to you that all those days of giving your all for him wasn't once noticed. "Will you ever grow up already? Attention? Really? We're adults, (Y/n) not teenagers for fucks sake. My time is just wasted because of you!" he doesn't stop there even if you've had your mouth already shut from how he portrayed you as. His words were beginning to leave a deep scar in you as you quiet down to the next line.

"If you think that nothing is troubling me, there is! And you just happen to add in for crying out loud!"

There were no words exchanged after his meltdown. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks away from you— who's eyes were already watery. Unable to even tell your side anymore at the ache of your heart. "So..I'm just troubling you then?" quivering out your words, Kuroo clenches his jaw as the bubbling frustration was being held back with the last bit of restrain he had.

"Would you notice if I was gone, Tetsu?"

Instead of being alarmed by your chosen form of sentence, you watched with sad eyes as your husband pulled back his chair and faced his workload. He didn't even noticed you're already crying silently, "Not now, (Y/n). We'll talk later."

He doesn't even noticed how you walked out sobbing with a shattered heart nor the door in the living room closing. Leaving him alone for the next few hours in peace like he wanted.

Time went on quickly when one doesn't take their eyes off from their consecutive workaholic state. With a groan, he almost slams his laptop shut before stretching his bones, slowly relaxing the tense muscles. It's up to his co workers and assistance to deal with the load he's prepared to dump onto them after they threw all theirs to him. Hoping to freshen up his face, Kuroo tidies his desk up before making his way to the door. Stopping in realization of the now cold dinner that was left on the coffee table.

His stomach growled loudly at the lack of food it's digested in the longest run. It was still good if he heats it up, he does miss eating home made meals than his stale ones back in the cafeteria of his workplace. Grabbing the plate carefully he first made a short journey to the kitchen to heat up his food. Unusual it was to have all the lights out in the house. You'd always leave some opened when he was awake. Then again the guilt started to crawl up to his chest knowing he's the cause of why you'd forgotten.

Now entering the bathroom with water running down his face, he plans ahead the apology he owes you when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He could reschedule his own time since he is the boss. He closes the faucet right after he was done rinsing. Looking around for the towel his eyes caught something below the small organizer you put up next to the sink. Grabbing the towel above the first part of the organizer, bending down slowly to avoid getting cramps, his actions were quick to grab the object that caught his attention the moment it seemed so familiar and surprising.

Pregnancy test. Two lines for positive.

Having a child with you was the last thing he's yet to accomplish from his list, and here it was. As much as he wanted to be in denial, it all felt like surge of contentment drowns him in because he was going to be a dad. However his body began to tremble whilst still holding the test and staring intently at it. The previous guilt that was crawling beneath his bones became a dark, desolated hole of anxiety and fear that ate him whole. The things he's said and done will never be taken back no matter how he apologizes to the past events a few hours ago.

Hours ago. It was already 2:25 when the fight had ceased. Deep down he knows he couldn't wait until the next day to plead for forgiveness. After all, he did vow to never leave you both a day feeling heavy alone. Kuroo felt nauseous of how much of an asshole he had treated you. Like starting a game of volleyball once more, he was beyond nervous when he approached your shared bedroom. There was no excuse of his actions indeed as he solemnly enters the dimmed room. He sighs a little shaky when he closes in your bed, "Baby?" he starts, "Baby, are you awake?" it was one of the little things he's memorized that you'd do when you both aren't in good terms. You never really slept, just pretended because you always had the heart to wait up for him.

When he gets no response he reaches out to pat you, only coming to the sense that the sheets were left untouched; no warmth traced behind. You weren't there, any where. His blood runs cold and immediately fishes out for his phone in his pocket, speed dialing your number while he circles the entire area of the house in case you'd be there. Now he was more terrified when he hears the familiar voice mail from the living room couch where you had slept while waiting for him.

You left your phone. His wife wasn't home— his pregnant wife.

"Fuck." running a rough hand through his tangled hair. The lump on his throat grows but he refuses to let out a string of sobs. It was his fault you were gone at such an ungodly hour. Kuroo felt more than a bigger asshole than before he's made you come to the point of leaving home. Just as his mother did and never returned. The one thing he swore you two would never be the same came to life, only thought now is Kuroo doesn't know whether you've left him for good after being a neglectful husband and to have dishearten his own beloved wife like that.

"Would you notice if I was gone?"

Rang in his head as he stood outside the neighborhood, running. Chasing after a hallucinated image of you any place he tried to remember you'd be in. A fool he has been to have left you in a loveless marriage. He loves you, he really does. He can't imagine a life without you in it. Just as it was about to become the happiest he's wanted, he pushed it all too soon. A bad husband, he cries. "(Y/n), please come home." legs aching and panting from having to study all areas. It was pitch black; there were no opened spots for you to even go at an hour of slumber and chaos. The only convenient store did not even have you in it. You were no where to be seen and Kuroo breaks.

Of course he'd notice when it was all too late. The past he's ran away from was still the place he's returned now that the house was only occupied by nothing but rotten memories of the love he didn't took care of. The exact replica of a married life he desperately tried to dodge. "I'm so sorry." for the lonely nights he's left you to sleep, over thinking of what may have been your fault and always figuring him out tirelessly. For the small efforts of adoration he didn't took a glance at and gone to waste. For the words that were never even meant for you to ever feel. For being a neglectful husband. He was sorry he noticed too late how he ruined his precious wife.

Now he's left you on your own out in the dangers outside. If anything horrible happened to you he will forever be crushed. But the world thinks that second chances are given to those who truly deserve them after you came in quietly, slipping off your sandals and waving back to your friend who had dropped you off home. Your short break to the convenient store changed when you met up with her and drove back to her place to rant about what happened. Being the sluggish person you are whenever sadness hits, you never noticed how long you've over stayed. It wasn't like your husband was going to know if he still was working.

Much to your surprise that he wasn't, you stifled a gasp to find him with his hands holding his head that was leaned down on the table. His shoulders were lightly jolting with escapes of audible sniffles, indicating that he was in fact crying. If he looked exhausted before, it wasn't enough to describe his current state; as if he was a man who'd lost every thing as he sat there with all hope lost. Your foot padded on the creaky part of the floor in attempt to tiptoe over his hunched back to comfort him. Squeaking in the awkward situation you've put the room in when Kuroo turns his head behind to see you standing there a bit frightened, but concerned when you saw how disheveled his face looks.

"Tetsu—" his name got cut off short from when you almost tripped over your balance at the sudden impact of Kuroo throwing himself into your arms with his weight. You couldn't make out what he was mumbling on about, but you melt to his embrace even if he squeezes the living day lights from you, afraid that he was going crazy and you weren't real. "Thank God," litters of kisses were placed on your clavicle, "You're back."

He repeats, slowly convincing himself that you are indeed home in his arms, safe, no harm detected. Just home. "I'm so sorry.."

"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of what I said, I-I'm so sorry." your bodies swayed gently to the sound of your hushes and his cries of apologies. "Please don't leave me like that again. I was so scared."

"Shhh, it's okay, Tetsu. I'm sorry. I'm okay— we're okay." leading him to sit down at the couch, you placed the bag of different brands of sweets and junk on the table before facing your husband. You had to stifle in a laugh watching him wipe his nose, you couldn't help but be reminded of a mini Tetsuro by looking at him. The argument that stung you faded when he took a hold of your hands and mumbled another apology.

"You shouldn't be sorry for anything. I should be.." flickering his eyes from your belly to your bloodshot eyes from your own fiasco back in your friend's place, he slides in closer next to you where your shoulders touched. "I haven't been a good husband lately, have I?" he looks at you expectantly. Frowning, you still nodded. Tired of hiding your own feelings from him.

"I know you're busy most of the time, Tetsu. But I just wanted you to recognize me as your wife." thumbs quick to swipe away the tear that had shed from your eye, "We're in this together, remember?" he pulls you right from the arm, shoving your face to his chest in need to hold you for all the times he should've. Ignoring the dampness of his white long-sleeved polo, breathing in the scent of your sweet shampoo. You were still so forgiving and understanding despite on how equally tired as he was you are.

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as if I never cared anymore. You never deserved that." his lips found it's way to the crown of your head. "I don't deserve you, and I really don't want to lose you after me being stupid." giggling through tears, fist connecting a soft punch on his chest, bubbling a chuckle to the surface as he lightly pulls you away from hiding.

"I really didn't mean all of those things I've said, baby. I love you and only you." stroking ever so lovingly your cheek, you don't catch on to the fact that his other hand was placed over your stomach protectively. Making a silent promise to not only you, but the soon to be new addition to the family that he will never again neglect what he should've cherished more and looked after than the constant worries at the back of his head.

Because he will never again repeat the replica of a broken family he once was born in.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[imagines-mha]

⭒ haikyuu x exam season ⭒

Daichi- when i say he is the MOODIEST person when studying. It’s all fun and games until you interrupt him one too many times and he fucking explodes. Needs 2 chill

Suga- his goal in life is to be an aesthetic studyblr like this man will go and get iced coffee, order the prettiest stationary and then spend 20 minutes organising it for his instagram. As for ACTUALLY studying? He’s amazing at it. Literally the person we all aspire to be

Asahi- anxiety crams before tests. He does more than like 70% of his classmates but is always convinced he’s fallen behind on everything. Cries a LOT when he doesnt understand smth

Noya- another one who cries only he does it SO easily. Personally victimised by anything past question 1. Gets literally everyone to do his work for him

Tanaka- tries so hard he really really does. His handwriting is a mess and his notes look like something a 7 year old would do. Gets everything wrong but doesnt let it stop him

Ennoshita- did someone say pretentious straight A student??? Offers to help his friends just so he can flex his pretty notes and intelligence. Seems like he has everything under control but really? He cries like once a night in the lead up to exams

Kageyama- he doesnt have any room for anything in his head that isnt volleyball. Hes hopeless

Hinata- LACKS COMMON SENSE SO BAD. He’ll finally understand EVERYTHING but write the answer in the wrong place or leave out a decimal place in the exam. Stupidest mistakes

Tsukishima- he sticks to a study schedule like what? Who tf sticks to a schedule? Doesnt like to flaunt his grades around anyone who isnt hinata and kageyama, but akiteru and his mom are 100% the type to post his grades all over facebook like “so proud of my son !!!!!!”

Yamaguchi- the king of saying he hasn’t done much for exams, but then stays up every night til 2am studying. He HATES people having any expectations of him so keeps all his preparation secret lmao.

Kuroo- hes smart and he flaunts it so bad. 100% a teacher's pet, especially for science. Around exam season he lives in the library. Motivates kenma to study with him too tho hes so supportive

Kenma- hes naturally smart, which is like 70% of the reason his grades are good bc he does NOT study. Leaves it all to the night before/ when hes with his friends in the library but other than that nope he doesnt have energy

Lev- doesn't fully register he’s taking a test until he’s 3 questions in and hasn’t written a single word. Then he starts panicking.

Bokuto- he goes through the 5 stages of grief every single time he has to study. Gets frustrated as hell when he cant understand something, gets distracted by everything, a mess. Always leads to him slamming his textbook shut and sulking for an hour

Akaashi- the only one in fukurodani who actually spreads his studying out over the year so he doesnt have to cram. He has pretty notes and diagrams but still gets so stressed smh

Konoha- “yeah ill study in ten minutes” *cue him 6 hours later only starting* studies mostly at night and doesnt care about grades , yet still manages to score really good on every test

Oikawa- if this man is anything he’s dedicated. Actually finds balance between volleyball and studying when exam season’s in full swing, but that doesnt mean he still doesnt overwork himself. Surviving on 40 minutes of sleep and coffee lmao

Mattsun- doesn’t take school seriously at all. Hes like “who cares im gonna die one day” “if i dont know it now ill never know it”. So fucking chill

Makki- tries to be like issei so bad but it fails every time. He’s like “yeah who cares about biology anyway lmao”. He is a liar. He cried for 2 hours over biology last night smh. Biology is actually his number one care.

Iwa- naturally smart and follows a routine. The only healthy studier in seijoh tbh. Motivates his friends so much though hes the only reason mattsun and makki pass smh

Ushijima- sounds pretentious but he doesnt mean it. The worst person to study with because hes so naturally smart and makes everyone feel stupid. Hes like “how do you not understand this? Its easy?”

Tendou- hes so average when it comes to studying i cant even explain it. He goes home and studies, has dinner, watches some anime and studies a little more, then just goes to bed? Never overly concerned about it but hes the best for calming nerves. Makes you really believe things will be okay

Goshiki- CHRONIC WORRIER OH MY GOD. definitely gets the shakes before an exam and almost has a fuckin panic attack every single time, never feels prepared but he really is. Needs tendou for emotional support

Atsumu- too confident in his abilities lmao. He’s like “yeah ive got this i totally know it” then acts shocked and appalled when he fails. Thinks he’s the main character, therefore he HAS to pass. He’s not. And he never learns.

Osamu- the slightly smarter twin yet still not exceptional in any way. Doesnt really care about grades, he knows there’s more to life but still studies enough to pass

Kita- hello mr “whats a failing grade”. Never stresses and never fails. Actually the top of his class in basically everything. Manages to study and still find time for hobbies.

Aone- i am convinced a hug from him would get me through exam season every single year. Another person who just? Doesnt stress? Follows a routine and doesnt mind if he doesnt know something in the test. wow

Futakuchi- “i dont care about exams at all fuck them” *gets 53% and cries*. He doesnt have the patience to study and feels betrayed when all his friends actually do the work

Koganegawa- hes like hinata only he actually passes most of the time. Works SO hard and gets so happy when it pays off!! Always treats himself to mcdonalds after an exam thats self love babie

Terushima- you need to be cautious around this man. He’ll spend every night of exam season partying and ignoring any responsibility, yet still come out with 100% in everything. Where does he find the time? How does that work? What the fuck?

[fukurodanni]

love for the rich and emotionally stunted: a comprehensive guide

ch. 1/7 -- prev. -- next. pairing: jumin han x f!reader warnings: n/a series summary: in the months following the incident with his father's most recent paramour, glam choi, the corporate heir of C&R finds himself discovering exactly what it is that makes a person in love so blind. ao3 link

note: office romance slowburn. featuring hallmark tropes and bad flirting. enjoy the ride. hop into my inbox for a tag if you're interested though! kiss kiss.

-

You don’t mean for it to happen the first time.

Considering the state of your routine and your general efficiency (required when it comes to a job at C&R) it’s easy to say that showing up early is an ingrained habit. It had happened a few times too many when you’d first started working and just sort of stuck. However.

It’s thirty minutes past schedule when you wake up in a state of panic, rushing and grabbing for clothes and keys and wallet before stumbling out the door.

But for as much as you’d worried, it all turns out fine. You’re still on time, a nice man holds the door open for you--you don’t think you’ve seen him before, or maybe you’re so distressed your brain doesn’t recognize the face--and there aren’t any consequences. You don’t get yelled at. You aren’t behind. Really, you should have overslept more often.

So the next day you set your alarm a little later than usual and allow yourself to sleep. It goes much smoother than the day before and you still make it on time, looking much better than you had 24 hours prior. The same man--you think-- holds the door open for you, and you glance back to smile and thank him.

Except you really must have been too stressed to notice because the man you’re staring at is the executive director and immediate heir to C&R.

Your smile falls.

And then you choke out a noise of gratitude that’s supposed to sound like “Thanks,” but the shock in your voice turns it to audible mush. Mr. Han only hums in return and walks past you with all the dignity and poise of a seasoned Calvin Klein model. Your heart hammers with a startling lucidity at the surprise of it all but it isn’t anything that you think much of, so you make it back to your desk on time and it’s all fine, it’s all fine. It isn’t until about an hour later that you realize it’s probably the first time you’ve seen him so close in person.

Not that it matters, of course, but then it does - because it happens again.

And again, and again.

The routine continues for about a week: the “thank you,” the hum of a response, and no further conversation besides that at the door. You’ve gotten to catch longer glimpses of him as this routine has gone on, the shine of his hair, this grey of his eyes, but there’s something that intrigues you infinitely more. You haven’t gotten him to smile and it nags at you, incessant. So you’re determined to do it now.

You crack a joke about his consistency the next time you see him, a smile playing coy at your lips. He just hums again. Killjoy.

“What?”

“What?” You ask, turning on your heel. His voice is much deeper than in the press interviews.

“Were you calling me a killjoy?”

“Not intentionally, no.” You quip back, face feeling hot. You turn again and begin walking back, nursing the humiliation you can already feel pricking at your nerves. “Have a nice day, Mr. Han.”

You think he says something like “You too,” but you wouldn’t notice it over the rush in your ears.

That went well.

-

Another day passes, another routine, rinse and repeat. He doesn’t seem bothered by yesterday’s incident, so you’re planning to talk to him again tomorrow, just to give it a day in between. It’s going to get annoying soon, but he’s neither fired nor closed the door in your face so in all situations, it really is a win-win.

Jumin Han opens the door for you, wordlessly as ever. You spare a glance at him.

“I’d considered arriving late just to get a reaction out of you, and then I realized that I wouldn’t even be there to see it.” You quirk your head in wait, watching as the corners of his lips twitch into an unwitting smile.

Mirth is very becoming on him, you realize. Oh no.

“I’m sure it would be quite the sight, Miss.” He replies, that same almost-smile creasing a dimple into his cheek. When he nods his good morning and walks off to the tippity-top of the C&R building, all the office lights seem a little brighter in the wake.

You shake yourself from your musings and an intern is already brushing past you in their hurry to return to their place-- wherever that may be, and it reminds you to do the same. C&R International, with all its focus on exports, has a wide breadth when it comes to fashion. Having directed several of its projects, you know this firsthand. You also know that when your schedule isn’t filled to the brim, everything else seems like busywork.

For the first time in a few months you feel like a regular, 9-to-5 office worker.

Additionally, this means that you’ve returned to being hyped up on watery coffee all the time. The building’s cafeteria is a modern marvel in and of itself, overpriced as its food may be. Your break is just long enough for you to catch two-thirds of a meal and a conversation if the mood strikes, otherwise a whole meal and a moment to catch up on social media. Having just passed the two-thirds-meal mark, you’re surprised to see someone else approaching your seat.

Funnily, horribly enough, it’s Mr Han himself, who’s looking at you with the same unbidden curiosity that a child might grant a particularly fascinating caterpillar.

“You work here,” he says, without greeting. It’s an innocent enough statement.

Did he not know? That you work here? Was he under the impression that you’d just started showing up for his own personal amusement and one-sided banter at the beginning of the month?

“Uh,” you say. “Yes.”

He blinks at you. You think for a moment that he might fire you on the spot. You don’t know why.

“I have a lanyard,” you say dumbly, holding it up. You wave it around a little. Mr Han nods, looking professional as ever. “I see,” he says. “Work hard.” And then he leaves, Italian leather on polished marble and all. You still need to finish the rest of your salad.

-

It’s almost ironic, the fact that you arrive late the next day.

After the strange half-encounter with Mr. Han, you’ve given yourself a moment of contemplation. Surely if the man hadn’t given a second thought to you besides your shared mornings-- not even a minute, besides-- then there wouldn’t be any point in pursuing him any further. He hadn’t even realized you worked there, not really.

Office romances never work out, anyhow.

You don’t even know if it was an office romance that you were pursuing in the first place. Perhaps it would have been nice, just to have another friend at work. Not that you were lacking, only that everyone had already seemed to settle in their routines and you’d been so busy, and well. Some things work out that way, and it’s not like you’re awful at small talk.

You’re running to the door of the office building, shoes clacking noisily against the pavement. You have to open the door for yourself this time.

“I thought you were kidding about arriving late to see my reaction.”

You think your neck just about cracks with the speed you turn to the noise. Mr Han stands not two meters from you, head tilted curiously in that same innocent wonder. He looks sort of sheepish, though you can’t quite figure why.

“I’m, uh--” You stare at him then, really take him in. Nothing comes. “I’m late for work.”

His eyes widen a fraction. And then he starts chuckling, softly, and it’s petrichor after rain, a deep tenor from low in his throat that has you suddenly, instantly warm. It isn’t much, not really.

But then you start laughing too, familiar and gleeful and it’s almost like you weren’t having a deep monologue about him that spanned most of last night. When you meet his eyes again, warm like the earth, it’s enough to boil hope in you, sunlight spilling over.

You don’t know for what yet, but you figure it’s something you’d like to find out.

-

tags: @vandysgf @banenaz @mrs-han thank u!

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

I Want Us Both to Eat Well

Ao3

Summary: Remy might not be great with self-care, but they've got the 'taking care of Logan' thing down to a science. And Logan can work with that. Content: Overworking, mentions of poor eating/sleeping habits, caretaking, it’s pretty soft overall, nonbinary remy Pairing: Losleep

~

Despite what some may think, Logan didn’t have the most demanding of jobs within the mindscape. He wouldn’t call his work a walk in the park, of course, but when he was largely tasked with matters such as scheduling and memory allocation, versus such things as emotional processing or idea creation, Logan had no plans on complaining.

And Logan’s most complicated job? Even less complaints to be figuratively filled, given it was his favorite.

See, for a good while now, Logan had been dating Remy, a figment of the Imagination created by Roman for a one-time vine gag that somehow managed to get enough permanence for themself to function as their own being. For a bit, they had simply wandered about, teasingly flirting with not only the sides but Thomas himself. Something about Logan must have held their attention however, because soon enough he was the only side being ‘bothered’.

It didn’t take long for the feelings of ‘botherment’ to morph into amusement, which furthermore transformed into affection and soon even love. Remy had made a bad attempt at celestial flirting, and despite the inaccuracies, Logan had greatly appreciated the sentiment.

Appreciated it enough to allow “I love you” to escape both his thoughts and mouth, an acknowledgement that had left the two of them in similar states of shock for a whole ten seconds before Remy was in Logan’s lap and doing their damndest to kiss him breathless.

Remy only became more cemented in the inner workings of Thomas’s mind after that, likely a consequence specifically of how much time they were spending in Logan’s room. They were still a figment, but they were rapidly gaining actual responsibilities, things they had to do or else Thomas would directly suffer. Most were connected to sleeping- making sure the sides were rested, bullying Thomas to bed when needed, lining up memories as appropriate to be saved and stored during REM- but some were simply random, the misc assignments settling onto the not-a-side.

Usually, Remy could manage it all without much issue. They would complain heavily, sure, bemoaning the days when they were a free-spirit with nothing to do, almost sounding like Roman when they spoke of the cruelty of fate that such was the price of love, but as long as Logan was there to hum sympathetically and play with their hair, they were good.

Occasionally however… it was too much. Too many late nights and sleepless mornings convincing others to rest, too many memories to pick between and sort, too many tasks all piling up. Remy would get overwhelmed and end up overworked if no one stopped them in time.

Luckily for Remy… they had Logan.

Figuring out that Remy had hit their breaking point wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, the first step of Logan’s ‘job’ therefore being the most difficult. Remy, for all their bellyaching, didn’t want to be perceived as a slacker or irresponsible with their job. With sunglasses, coffee, and their devil-may-care attitude, they could normally fake being alright for a day or two past actually being alright.

But the facade always cracked in the end, and as soon as it did, Logan was there.

So, the second step, taken once Logan recognized those cracks: eat a good and filling breakfast. This step was especially important, and made the list to remind Logan that a coffee and crofters-covered bagel wouldn’t be sufficient.

Next, Logan went about assigning Remy’s usual tasks to the other sides. To Virgil and Patton, enforcing Thomas’s bedtime. To Janus, memory dealings. To Roman and Remus, whichever various misc tasks Remy had at the time. And top it all off with a lecture to the lot of them to sleep well.

(Logan always expected some resistance on this step, and was always surprised to find none. “If you say they need a break, they need a break.” Virgil said one time with a shrug. “We want to help where we can.”)

Then there came the final step: convincing Remy to take a break. To most, this would be the hardest step. Even when all their work was attended to, Remy would insist they had things to do, that they couldn’t just take a break, especially not one as long as Logan would suggest.

Logan wasn’t ‘most’.

Before Logan entered his room (or, more accurately, his and Remy’s room, the figment not having a place outside of the Imagination and therefore opting to move into Logan’s), he double checked that everything was ready.

Breakfast? Eaten.

Time? Well past noon.

Work? Distributed.

Tie? Loosened.

Shirt? Untucked.

“Hotel? Trivago.” (vocabulary cards!)

Logan let himself into his (now shared) room. Remy was sprawled across his (now shared) bed, flipping through their own notecards- the form memories took when viewed within the logical side’s room. Their sunglasses were set aside on Logan’s (now shared) desk, making it easy for Logan to spot the dark bags beneath their eyes.

They glanced up when Logan entered, cocking an eyebrow as they took in his appearance. “You’ve looked better, babe.” Remy commented lightly, though Logan could hear the concern in their voice. “You here to crash? I can move.”

Logan didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to stand in front of Remy. Before his partner could guess what he was doing, Logan had grabbed the memory cards they were sorting, easily willing them away.

Remy’s eyebrow only raised higher. “Alright, yeah, someone needs to take a nap.”

“And that someone would be you.” Logan replied. “Or, more appropriately, someone needs to take several days to rest.”

Remy chuckled. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I wouldn’t think you’d want me falling behind on work, especially for Thomas’s sake.”

“Your work is being handled, Thomas will be fine.” Logan assured, taking a moment to tenderly tuck some of Remy’s hair behind their ear. Remy’s expression softened at the gesture. “I have taken care of everything for you, save one thing.”

“Oh?” Remy prompted, looking vaguely amused by Logan’s approach. “And what’s that one thing, doll?”

With a smile, Logan settled himself in Remy’s lap, arms wrapping lightly around the back of their neck. “Myself.”

Remy’s brow furrowed at the answer, their concern returning full force. “Log-”

“I have not eaten since breakfast,” he neglected to mention it was a large enough breakfast the lack of lunch hadn’t truly affected him, “I am stressed,” he ignored that the stress was Remy-based, “and my appearance is unkempt;” he pretended this was not a very conscious choice, “therefore, I should be resting, and yet, I am not.”

“You do seem tired…” Remy murmured, one of their hands moving to rest steadily on Logan’s hip while the other gently cupped his cheek. Logan appreciated the moment as long as he could, lazily leaning into Remy’s touch while the overworked figment searched his face for more signs of exhaustion.

Then they squinted at him. “Wait. This isn’t some ploy of yours, is it? ‘Cause no offense hun, but this feels a bit too easy. Normally you go running when I try to stop you from working on bad days.”

“I admit I am usually more… difficult about such matters, but I assure you, my love, this is no ploy. That would imply only I benefit from this situation. I think we both would.”

“Oh? How so?”

Logan’s fingers traced random patterns on Remy’s upper back. “You prefer to see me in good health and enjoy taking care of me. I prefer to see you in good health and know that letting you take care of me will subsequently lead to you being taken care of as well.” He kissed Remy’s forehead. “We both benefit, for the sake of not only ourselves, but each other as well.”

Remy sighed, their attempt at annoyance falling rather flat, in Logan’s opinion. “I can tell you’ve planned this out, babe.” Their hand on Logan’s cheek slipped into his hair, lightly scratching at Logan’s scalp.

The logical side involuntarily let out a content hum at the motion, briefly letting his eyes close as he pressed closer against Remy, their hand now supporting more of his head than Logan was. “Mhm, the plan of self-care? I think it’s a good plan.” Logan partially opened his eyes to catch Remy’s gaze. It was fond and sweet, Remy having clearly been swayed by tired Logan. “Do you think it’s a good plan?”

“Yeah.” Remy agreed softly, Logan grinning as he realized he had ‘won’ (really, they had both won, seeing how desperately Remy needed rest, but for the intents and purposes of this particular situation… Logan had won). “It was a great plan, angel.”

Logan allowed his head to be transferred onto Remy’s shoulder, happily nestling it into the crook of their neck. He could feel as Remy shifted their position, clearly going to lay Logan down on the bed. However, the bed alone would not be enough, Logan locking his arms behind Remy’s neck when they tried to let him go.

“Oh, come on, sugar, I can’t- I need both my hands- oh, alright, fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll make it work.”

It took a couple minutes longer than it might have if Logan had allowed Remy to let go of him, but soon enough Logan was being deposited in a proper pile of blankets and pillows, all packed in together and arranged in the corner of the bed that lined up against the corner of the wall. He released Remy this time, comfortably sinking into the heap.

“I’m happy you’ve deemed this arrangement of your bed more acceptable than the one you yourself made, sweetheart.” Remy teased even as they worked on tucking the pile closer around him. “I’m going to grab lunch now, alright? Don’t go anywhere.”

It was an unnecessary request, given that Logan’s master plan of self-care wouldn’t benefit from him making Remy hunt him down, but the familiarity of it made Logan snort. The blanket-pillow lump had a one hundred percent success-rate with dissuading Logan from escape, no matter the circumstance, but Remy’s consistency in reminding Logan to stay put was endearing every time.

Remy returned within a few minutes, carrying a plate filled with ham and cheese cubes and some bunches of purple grapes. They placed it on part of the bed not overtaken by the plush pile before carefully climbing over it, cautious to not make a mess as they joined Logan. They slid into place behind him with practiced ease, shifting Logan to be more in their lap and against their chest before tucking the blankets back in around them both.

Logan leaned back against Remy as they settled, resting his head at a tilted angle so that he could keep his eyes on Remy. Noticing this, Remy smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Logan’s forehead.

“Alright babe who hasn’t eaten since breakfast, time to eat.” Remy said, tugging the plate closer to them before picking up one of the cubes and offering it to Logan. He let Remy pop it in his mouth, swallowing it while Remy grabbed another morsel of food. The motions were easy and repetitive, and soon enough nearly half the plate was gone.

Breaking the skin on a grape, Logan caught Remy’s wrist as they went to offer him a ham cube. Remy raised an eyebrow. “Darlin’?”

“You need to eat too.” Logan explained, nudging Remy’s hand towards their own face. “I know how you get when you’re busy.”

“Well now you’re not even being subtle.” Remy teased even as they accepted their redirected ham cube. Alternating between themself and Logan, Remy returned to their work of emptying the plate, quickly finishing off what remained of it.

When there was nothing left on the dish, Remy gracelessly pushed it off the bed, Logan well aware they’d pick it up later but still rolling his eyes at the laziness in the gesture.

“Shh, I can hear you thinking, love.” Remy trailed a few kisses down the side of Logan’s face, their arms wrapping snugly around his waist. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up later. Don’t worry about it.”

“You could take care of it now though.” Logan argued weakly, already once-more melting into Remy’s hold.

Remy chuckled, peppering more kisses across his chin. “Then I’d have to let go of you, my lovely Lo, and I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”

“Mmm, fair point.”

“Plus,” Remy went on as they began to slide into a more horizontal position, laying Logan down with them and briefly releasing his waist so as to move his glasses from his face to the bedside table, “it’s naptime. Someone needs their rest.”

“You.”

“Which one of us is taking care of the other again? You’re the tired one.”

Logan laughed quietly at Remy’s rebuttal, rolling over and nuzzling his face into Remy’s neck. He wasn’t sure when the lights in the room had turned off, but he was fairly certain it had been Remy’s doing. “Fine. I am very tired. So tired I have completely forgotten what to do now. Remind me how to sleep.”

“Dramatic-ass.” Remy’s tone was too soft to match their words. They pressed their cheek against Logan’s hair, their breath as they spoke close enough for Logan to feel its warmth. “You’ve just gotta close your eyes and stop thinking about anything that isn’t your wonderful partner and their wonderful fluffy pile of comfort and relaxation.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Logan dropped a kiss on Remy’s collarbone. “I could do this for days and days and-”

“Shhhh, starlight. Rest.” Remy slowly ran a hand up-and-down Logan’s back, successfully distracting him from his poorly-veiled (but loving) jab at Remy. “Bully me later.”

Logan didn’t respond verbally, opting instead to hum in contentment and snuggle up closer to Remy. There was no way they’d be able to slip out of bed without Logan noticing- not that they’d try, not now, but Logan appreciated the assurance of proximity. Despite not truly being tired, Remy’s warmth and Logan’s relief at knowing they would finally be resting themself were enough to make his eyelids heavy, the idea of sleeping peacefully with his partner too tempting to pass up.

So, yes, Logan did have some difficult duties to attend to, the caretaking of Remy the most complicated of them all. But drifting off happily in Remy’s arms, Logan remained firm in his stance that it was his favorite duty.

[meltwonu]

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 |     [Chapter 1] 

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, dom!wonwoo, dirty talk, masturbation, sex toys, mentions of sexting/sending photos/videos, baby this has hella plot lmao dkhf 🥴💕 WELCOME TO UNTIL I MET YOU!! THE MINI-SEQUEL TO CAFFEINE! A bit of a shorter chapter but I didn’t want to overload with too much everything in the first chapter, ykwim? 😎 Thank you so much for your patience with this sequel, I know there were a ton of people asking for a sequel for months after I said I would 💕😭😭 As always, inbox roundup tomorrow! And don’t forget, next chapter for UIMY goes up on Feb 26th! T|H ch 1 next Friday! 🥰💕 Enjoy ch 1, have a great weekend and I love you! 💕

chapters; 1 - x - x - x - x

“Mmh… Wonwoo…”

His hands roam all over your naked body; warmth spreading all over when he digs his blunt fingernails into the skin of your waist.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Did you miss me, sweetheart?” His voice is soft, gentle, yet teasing; barely above a whisper as your back bows off of the bed to lean into his simple touches. “I missed you, sweetheart. Missed your ‘lil cunt too.”

A choked sob falls from your lips, followed quickly by rushed, hurried cries for Wonwoo to move faster.

“Don’t you want me to take my time? We haven’t seen each other in months.” 

There’s a smirk on his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief when you reply back with a shaky whine. “Don’t you want me to slide my cock into your pretty ‘lil pussy nice ‘n slow? Let you feel every inch of me filling you up, just like it’s the first time all over again.” He stares at you dreamily; fixated on the way your body chases his hands when he drags them down to your thighs. “Or would you prefer it if I fucked you hard and fast? Your cute body squirming and trembling from how good I give it to you and my cock slamming into your tight ‘lil cunt.”

Wonwoo’s fingertips spread your folds as he licks his lips; appreciating how wet you already were for him.

“Bet your toys don’t feel as good as the real thing, huh?”

You shake your head ‘no’ furiously, “N-no, god, no! Wonwoo, p-please!” The male grins down at you, pouting mockingly at your desperate, pleading eyes. 

The wetness between your legs is unbearable and the sobs are caught in your throat when Wonwoo leans over you, lips ghosting across your own.

“Okay. Just say--”

You’re shocked awake by your alarm clock; chest heaving in deep breaths as you sit up in your crumpled sheets. “Oh, fuck...” Groaning, your clammy palms reach for the ringing device as you shut it off and sigh.

The clock reads 10:02AM; tired eyes trying to blink away the sleep that threatens to take you back to the dreamland you much preferred. Although, dreaming about Wonwoo was becoming a little bit too common these last few days.

Sighing once more, you move to get out of bed; already finding your panties soaking wet and sticking to you like a second skin when you stand.

“Ugh... Damn it.”

You press the vibrator harder onto your clit; teeth chattering with the pleasure that pours over your body.

“Oh, god, please, p-please…”

Images of Wonwoo dance behind your eyelids; sultry smirks and teasing glances bringing you closer and closer to the edge of an orgasm.

If there was anything that the last few months without Wonwoo taught you, it was that you couldn’t afford to lose him - in more ways than one. And despite his lack of calls or even text messages, you held out in hopes he still felt the same way that you did despite the distance.

You sent him pictures and videos of yourself often; teasing images half naked, toys in hand, and videos crying out his name while you came. And while he took the time to reply to those with praise and adoration, he almost never sent anything back. 

When he did, it was always short, clipped replies of how exhausted he was and how he didn’t have much time.

“Ngh, h-harder…” Your toes curl against the bedsheet; phantom feelings of his cock fucking you hard and deep making you cry out in desperation to be filled by his cock.

Your phone rings on the nightstand next to you as you cum - vibrator pressed so hard against your clit that your back bows off of the sheets while your thighs shake uncontrollably. 

And for the first time in a long time, it’s an orgasm that feels like it’s worth something.

‘Gyu: hey did wonwoo text u?

‘Gyu: he’s back next monday he said

‘Gyu: idk abt classes tho, might be out of commission for a while bc jetlag

‘Gyu: thinking abt throwing him a party on friday after he comes back...

‘Gyu: u wanna plan with us orrrrr? U got a private party or sth 🥴😏

‘Gyu: lmk

You’re nervous. Shy, even.

After you’d come down from your orgasm and checked your phone, your mind momentarily went blank from shock and the first thing you’d done was text Wonwoo to ask if he was really coming back that soon.

‘Ah, yeah, I was just about to text you. Prof said we can go home early if we wanted since we finished up classes. I’ll see you sometime next week? Jetlag and stuff.’, was all he had said and in your excited state, the only thing you had responded with was an, ‘Okay, great!’, without asking when, where, or what time.

You figured you’d give him some time to readjust instead of bombarding him as soon as he got in. But each second that you knew Wonwoo was home, you found yourself itching to just be in his presence.

You just had to be a little more patient.

Wednesday morning comes and you find yourself skipping your morning class to go to the library.

For studying, you tell yourself.

The male at the receptionist table shoots you a small smile to which you awkwardly smile back before ducking into an empty aisle. All you knew was that it seemed like Wonwoo wasn’t here.

Maybe he’s still at the frat house, you wonder.

Sighing slightly under your breath, you decide that maybe getting some work done would actually help distract you from looking for the male.

You find an empty table, setting your things down before pulling out your phone. 

In all honesty, you weren’t even sure why you were being so shy and nervous about contacting Wonwoo, especially when you so unabashedly sent him nudes every few days when he was away. 

Although, with how things had been before he left and the prospect of actually dating once he came back from his semester abroad - the butterflies in your stomach had been nonstop with the different scenarios that played out in your head. You’d even gone so far as to plan what happened if Wonwoo had decided he didn’t want to make an attempt at dating you.

“Sweetheart?”

The grip you have on your phone only tightens as you whip your head around to find Wonwoo standing behind your chair and you swear your heart stops beating the same time your breath gets caught in your throat. “H-huh?”

He smiles gently down at you and you can’t help but wonder how long you were spaced out to not notice him there. 

“Is this a dream too?” You wonder aloud - Wonwoo chuckling in response as he moves to collect your things for you.

“Have you been dreaming about me that much, sweetheart?” You stutter and stumble over your words; embarrassment eating at you every second that Wonwoo has a knowing smile plastered on his lips.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat since we both know you’re not really here to study.”

The version of Wonwoo that sits across the cafe table is… different.

Not bad, just different.

His arms are much tanner and definitely more muscular and the glasses missing from his face lets you appreciate his eyes even more when they’re not hidden behind the thick frames. He had even opted to wear a sleeveless shirt; something that you weren’t used to when he usually was around campus in long sleeves and sweater vests.

Although, you can’t and won’t deny the way your body reacts to this Wonwoo.

“Hey, I’m talking to you and you’re just spacing out.” Muttering, he leans over the small cafe table until his face is only inches away from yours and the smirk on his lips already lets you know that you’ve been caught staring.

“Listen, I know I’ve been gone for three months but you’re lookin’ at me like you haven’t had a fix in all that time.” Your lips press into an embarrassed firm line, avoiding his stare as he raises a brow at you.

“Wait, you didn’t fuck anyone in the three months I was gone?”

“No… did you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper; a little afraid that his answer will be ‘yes’ when he takes a second longer to respond.

“Nah,” He settles back into his seat, “I told you, didn’t I? I was willing to try the whole… dating, relationship thing with you when I got back. Although, I’m somewhat surprised one of the others didn’t try to seduce you while I was gone.”

You laugh slightly, cheeks warm as Wonwoo teases. “I wouldn’t have given them the time of day anyway.”

Your entire body burns hot, palms clammy in your lap from how giddy you were to be with Wonwoo and it made your heart do backflips knowing that he’d still been willing to try with you.

“Ah, how was it abroad anyway? You… didn’t really say much over the past few months so I feel like I don’t know how you were. Just some messages about how tired you were...” He takes a sip of his coffee; unintentionally making you internally scream when his lips form a pout while he thinks.

“Honestly? Other than the days we were excavating ‘n stuff, it was pretty boring. Really hectic though, and a lot of documenting which meant a lot of paperwork. I swear, I closed my eyes and I saw the inside of my textbooks.” He chuckles lightly, eyes focused on the cup of coffee in front of him.

“I just want to say sorry for my lack of communication. I really didn’t expect to be so busy that I couldn’t even pick up a call.” There’s a genuine apologetic look on Wonwoo’s face when he looks back at you. “And the time difference was really rough too. I didn’t want to take it out on you over the phone if I was stressed about not sleeping or the workload. I know we can get a little rough when we ‘play’ but this wasn’t that and it wouldn’t have been fair.”

Oh.

“T-that’s okay, I understand!” Your heart does somersaults in your chest, “I--thank you for thinking about me too.”

The feelings you have bubbling up inside of you make you feel like you’re falling in love for the first time, all over again. “Um… Sorry I sent so many pictures ‘n stuff.”

Wonwoo laughs, this time throwing his head back slightly before he tries to hide his wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t apologize.” Your eyes meet his and for a split second, you see the familiar dominating look in his eyes before he leans over the small cafe table again.

“I might’ve not had all the time to entertain you those times but I thought about you alllll the time. I missed everything about you.” His voice is barely above a whisper - careful to not let anyone else in the cafe hear the topic of conversation. “Which, by the way…You piqued my interest earlier with your question. You never really answered my question about having dreams about me.”

You shift in your seat as you avert your eyes from his; eyes flitting down his toned body instead as you mentally curse yourself.

“I… kinda? I m-mean… not normally but just--just these last few days. It’s almost been every night… I wake up and--and it’s just… I’m...” You trail off; somewhat shy to say the rest of what you were going to say even though you’re almost certain Wonwoo already knows.

“Odd. Me too. I kept dreaming about you, which is, honestly, kind of why I thought to come back earlier.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, we still had 2 weeks left, technically. A bit of a spillover since my professor wanted us to explore the city once finals were over. But I just wanted to come home.” He finishes with a chuckle - a soft look in his eyes.

You pout back at him, “You didn’t come home early just for ‘lil ‘ol me, did you?” You say it jokingly, but deep down you do wonder.

“Would that be so bad?” Grinning, Wonwoo sets a couple of bills down onto the table to cover the meals you both barely have touched.

“Like I said, I missed everything about you, sweetheart.”

Wonwoo walks you back to your place afterwards; laughing and joking with you as if he hadn’t been gone for the last 3 months. 

There’s a certain playfulness about him that makes your heart bloom and part of you wonders if he’s opening up to you more now that there’d been some time apart.

“Are you gonna be working at the library again? Or is that done forever now?” “Mm.. I mean, it’d be kind of weird if I stopped, don’t you think?”

The grin of his face is telling and you have to mentally stop yourself from letting your mind wander in the middle of the sidewalk. “Y-yeah... Studying in my apartment isn’t really the same, y’know…”

Laughing, Wonwoo takes the opportunity to swing an arm around your shoulder as he tucks you under his arm. “I was actually at the library earlier to ask about my position back. I start tomorrow.” Goosebumps rise on your skin and the close proximity is enough to make you whimper.

“I’m only taking two classes this semester to give myself a bit of a break so I’ll be in the library more often to fill up the time. You can always call me if you need to know where I am. I promise I’ll respond this time, sweetheart.”

Before you know it, the two of you are already standing outside of your complex as Wonwoo takes his arm off of you.

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice that has you nodding feverishly in return.

“I have a morning class but I’ll come by in the afternoon? I can text you to let you know, just in case.” You offer back.

Wonwoo licks his lips, tilting his head before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead.

The soft gesture momentarily throws you off as you freeze but the smoldering look in Wonwoo’s eyes when he pulls away lets you know that he’s already scheming.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

[scorpio-marionette]

PREVIEW: "Who's the Guy?"

Pairing: Female!College Student OC x Male!Shop Owner OC

Rating: this preview is rated PG-13

Warning: AGE GAP, minimal use of character names, curiosity, OCs, Second Person POV, fluffy maybe?, potentially really hot guy, a little angst if you squint at it, coffee drinking, mentions of alcohol consumption, gawking

Author’s Note: the story in which this fic previews is not yet rated. You are now entering an original universe. This will eventually become a co-written universe between myself, @supernaturalgirl20 , @writer-darling , and @misspearly1 . These are characters I came up with. We're all just building the world they live in. Please feel free to tell me what you think and if you want more!

If you would like to learn more about the Male OC, please let me know!!!

It’s a chilly New York afternoon beyond the large panes of glass in front of you. Fog rims their edges like picture frames, the art they hold is the rainy world outside. A palette of gray and blue dotted with warm spots of yellow is bland and boring to the toasty interior of the cafe. The false incandescent light bulbs that never fail to make the environmentally cautious gripe illuminate the room with their soft LED glow. The reclaimed and upcycled wood set in industrial style frames make up the majority of the furnishings. Tree bark browns, rosy reds, sunshine yellows; all are mixed with the avant garde art pieces on the walls from local artists. Even when no one is here, the room feels alive with life.

Your first week here has gone smoothly, or about as smooth as it could with your classes being hectic. Luckily you had already been coming to the cafe long before working here so you weren’t taken by surprise as to the traffic this place sees. Not even having a lack of barista knowledge slowed you down. You were hell bent and determined that this job would work out after falling out with your last employer due to their negligence. You benefited from the slow times too. You could work on your school projects and papers as you waited for people to brave the weather for a drink. Being close with everyone in the cafe allowed you to bounce ideas off of everyone in hopes of sparking something. The only thing no one could help you with was your script writing assignment. You had no idea what to write and neither did they.

That’s why you’re staring out the window now. The rain has always been your greatest writing companion, filling your head with ideas as it fills the rivers and streams with more water. However, its aid seems to be eluding you. It’s leaving you to find something on your own. You contemplate giving up for the day, but the anxiety in your chest reminds you that this isn’t something you’re writing for fun anymore. This is a class assignment. A work assignment really. You had held yourself to such a high standard that now your professor is expecting something spectacular, and you just know you’re going to let them down. Perhaps you’ve been too ambitious. You sigh in exhaustion.

Moving away from the window, you hear Char coming from the backroom of the cafe. She’s a good boss, very understanding of your problems. She makes sure you’re heard and tries to help as much as she can. When she stops at the counter to drop the box she carried up, she looks at you. There are bags under your eyes from pulling all nighters. Stress lines are forming on your face from worrying about this project. You look dead even though you have a cup of coffee in your hand. Usually at a time like this, she’d break out the emergency stash of Bailey’s she has stashed in the back, but she knows no amount of spiking your cup is going to help you write this thing.

“You still need help with that paper of yours?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Still don’t have a muse unless you count sleep.”

Char chuckles at your response as you slowly blink your tired eyes. At that moment the little bell above the door chimes. Turning you see an older gentleman enter the room. He’s not too much older, maybe 24 years at most. A muss of chocolate brown curls adorns his head and frames his face nicely. Sweet, inviting eyes of shadowed amber compliment his strong nose and pouty lips. He’s all jaw though the image is softened by his visible signs of age. He’s tall, standing at maybe 5’ 11” and broad at the shoulders. He tapers in at the waist, becoming narrow at the hips. How you can tell when he’s wearing baggy sweats is beyond you, but you know. Somehow you just know. He seems to have legs for days as he breezes by you to get to the counter. He seems well known as well, with how Char smiles at him. The mysterious man quietly gives his order as if to not disturb the silence of the room. Handing Char what he owes her, she waves him off and insists it’s on the house.

It’s at this moment he seems to realize you’re here. Your presence finally felt as the man came out of whatever daze he was in. Turning to look at you, his eyes begin to glow before you. His whole face changes instantly. Where he was the attractive loner who you could never approach without caution, he is now a dazzling star breaking through the monotony of your current life. Having been completely taken by him, you fail to realize he has turned away. The broken eye contact causes you to flush heavily in embarrassment, so you flee to the safety of the backroom. You wait for the chime of the bell to signal the end of your humiliation.

“You alright?” Char asks.

“Yeah, uh, who-who’s the guy?”

“Oh that’s just my regular, Eleodoro. He’s been coming here since I opened the place.”

“Oh, okay. I guess I should see him around more often then?”

“Yup! Shows up at least once a day when he’s in town. He does travel quite a bit.”

You nod along to Char’s words, eyes drifting to the glass door. The little bell sits patiently, waiting for the next guest to announce. The rain still melts and repaints the gloomy world outside. The occasional car passing by. Curiosity crawls through you like a shiver from a quick cold blast of air. Who was that man? Why was he still on your mind? Why has he had such a profound impact on you? Because he’s your muse, your brain whispers to you. Let your writing answer you and you will find what you are looking for: a story worth telling! Dazed by your revelation, you pull out your notebook and begin to write a plot. One that includes a handsome man with an adventurous life and mysterious past.

[arvinsescape]

Sweet Creature

A/N: Based on ‘Sweet Creature’ by Harry Styles. I was listening to it earlier today and this idea popped into my head.

Summary: Reader and Tom hit a rough patch and Tom’s not sure how to fix it but he knows he’s not going anywhere.

Warnings: Swearing.

W/C: 2.9K

You’d been with Tom for a while now and like every relationship it’d hit its rough patch. It wasn’t like the first year and a half of your relationship when you’d have a small argument and figured it out before you fell asleep. This was always something you’d made sure you did when you first moved in.

You’d done what most couples did when you felt that small change into chaos rise, you’d ignored it, assuming maybe the other was just tired and not spoken about it.

It presented itself in the way it usually did, your tempers with each other became short and the snapping started. You were both stubborn to a fault and didn’t take the responsibility of apologising.

“Did you really have to snap like that Y/N?” Tom had sighed when he joined you in bed.

“Look, you pissed me off. Sorry okay.” It wasn’t sincere and you both knew it; you were being stubborn. But Tom was more patient than he gave himself credit for and let it go. He knew you were stressed. You’d done the same for him the day prior.

That’s when the next issue would present itself. Tom was a very touchy and loving person, always wanting to present his love through all the affection he could. He always claimed having you in his arms felt like home. You didn’t sleep without his arms around you in some way, shape or form. Until you did. The snapping had ultimately reached a point that had you sleeping annoyed with each other and so, you stopped holding each other.

Then the next step. You’d both had enough and an explosive row had started about absolutely nothing. Neither of you could recall just what it was that started it but it grew into something it wouldn’t normally need to.

“Fuck sake Tom, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.” You’d screamed at him, slamming the washer shut; you were both so angry.

“Like you can fucking talk Y/N. What is this all about?” He’d yelled back at you as you made your way into the living room.

“I don’t know how many times I have to ask you to do simple things. It’s not that hard and you’ve found a million different ways of not doing a single thing today.” You seethed.

“I’m busy! Just because I’m not on set doesn’t mean I don’t have work to do.” He shouted as he slammed his script down on the coffee table.

“Whatever. Leave me to do fucking everything!” You screamed as you slammed the living room door shut, leaving him there with his anger.

That was the night you stopped sharing a bed completely. He took himself into the guest bedroom and you didn’t talk about it. That stubborn streak in both of you taking a firm hold.

After that it was awkward. You avoided each other, not wanting yet another explosive row to take place. You’d had too many over the last couple of weeks and left it you both tired. It was as if you’d forgotten how to communicate properly. Neither knowing what to say to fix it and not wanting to upset the other.

You both felt that distance settle in your chest. You hardly spoke, you didn’t touch and you missed each other in bed. Tom had almost given in one night and as he was about to make his way back into your shared bed, he faltered at the door. Sighing and shaking his head as he made his way back into the guest, well ‘his’ room. He wanted to rip the stubborn streak out of both of you and if it was possible, he would, in a heartbeat.

You’d started to find it unbearable. The distance was becoming too much. You missed him. You’d even take another argument at this point, you just wanted to feel any kind of emotion from him. He’d gone out to visit his parents, mumbling something about ‘needing some air.’ As soon as he left you broke down. You cried, the painful ache in your chest was too much. His side of the bed didn’t smell like him anymore, signalling just how long it’d been since he’d been in there.

You made your way into what had become his room and picked up his hoodie that he’d had on yesterday, you brought it up to your face and let his scent fill your senses. You’d forgotten just how good it was. Tears streamed down your face as you pulled it over your head. You made your way into his bed and let his scent take over everything. You cried for what felt like hours into his pillow.

Tom came back from his parents; he’d had a long chat with his dad about his frustrations. His dad had comforted him saying you’d fix it and find your way back to each other, that you were young and still finding the right way to navigate yourselves and he felt some of his resolve dissolve. He shut the door quietly and took in how quiet it was. He worried for a second that you might have left, but he knew you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t take off without saying anything.

It also confused him that Tess hadn’t come to say ‘hi’, maybe you’d taken her out? Then he heard it and it broke his heart. You were crying. He made his way upstairs and into the room you’d both shared. You weren’t there. He furrowed his brows as he made his way into his new sleeping residence.

There you were and you were crying so hard and so loud, he knew you’d not heard him. The sight made his heart rise and fall at the same time. It was an odd feeling, you had his hoodie on and you were curled up in ‘his’ bed, face planted in ‘his’ pillow and Tess wrapped up with you. She always did comfort you when you were sad, not leaving you for second. Seeing you in his clothing made his heart soar but the pain in your cries made his heart drop, all at once.

He moved towards the bed and made his way into it behind you. He took you into his arms and it seemingly made you cry harder. His heart was aching more than it had over the last few weeks. He missed you, he missed you being in his arms, missed your scent as much as you did his. He knew it wasn’t the end of the two of you, that it was a rough patch but that didn’t make it any easier.

He was glad that he wasn’t due to go away for a while. He realised he needed to fix it, do something. He just didn’t know what. He was somewhat scared to approach it, it had seemingly spiralled out of his control but he would and he was determined to. For now though, he just held you as you cried, feeling his own tears fall.

You still hadn’t spoken about what happened, although you fell asleep like that. The feeling of home slowly making its way back into both your chests. You had to go out that morning and you felt something shift back towards normal when he’d kissed you and told you he loved you before you left. You wished more than anything you could avoid this outing but you couldn’t.

Harrison had decided that he was going to visit that day, texting Tom to ask if he was in. When he got his reply, he made his way to his best friend’s house. He knew something had been off due to Tom’s lack of enthusiasm in their recent conversations and had decided that he needed to lend an ear.

“What’s wrong Tom? You seem off.” Harrison had commented slowly. He got a sigh in response.

“Me and Y/N are fighting. I think. I don’t know.” Tom dragged his hands over his face and sat further back in his chair.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Have you had a row?”

“Yeah but that was like two weeks ago. We just aren’t talking at all really.”

“What was it about?” Harrison was trying to pry the information carefully from his best friend.

“Fuck knows, I can’t remember. It was stupid I know that much.” He sighed again. “We’ve both just been so stressed, we were snapping at each other a lot and I don’t know it just exploded a couple times and now we’re just left with the aftermath.”

“Have you talked about it?”

“No.”

“That’s the problem Tom. You should talk.” Harrison had a stubborn streak to him but it was no where near as bad as Tom’s. It was simpler in his mind.

“We’re both so stubborn Haz, neither of us wanted to bring it up first and I don’t know, be the first to apologise. Fuck, I miss the days when we didn’t let it take over, when we’d made up quickly after an argument.” Tom felt the tears again but he didn’t let them fall.

“Look, I know I’m not as stubborn as you two but the answer is still clear, you need to talk before it gets any worse.” Harrison said as he patted his friend’s back.

“We’re not sharing a bed.” Tom suddenly stated and Harrisons eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“That bad?” Tom just nodded.

“She cried yesterday and it was the first bit of emotion we got from each other in ages.” Tom sighed again as the memories of your cries flooded his mind.

“That’s good right? She’s feeling the same as you?” Harrison asked.

“I guess. But I didn’t know what to say to her. It’s like I don’t know how to fix it. It’s not like either of us did anything worse than the other, we both let our stress get to each other and treated each other poorly as a result. I love her and I know this isn’t the end of us, I can’t imagine being with anyone else at this point Haz but fuck, I don’t know what to do.” He let a few tears fall, quickly wiping them away.

“Do something for her.” Harrison suddenly suggested.

“Like what? What if she doesn’t want me to?”

“Look, even if she doesn’t want you to, it’ll force a conversation. She was crying Tom, I’m sure she does want you to do something, she’ll be just as lost as you. Do something nice for her, make her dinner.”

“I can’t cook Harrison.” Tom reminded him with a soft laugh.

“Call Sam. He’ll tell you what to do. She’ll appreciate the thought.” Harrison comforted him.

“You’re right. I think maybe we just need to remind each other how much we love each other.” Tom sighed.

“Yes, you do. Now stop being so fucking stubborn. Don’t let her slip through your fingers mate. I’ve never seen you so happy with another human being.” Harrison laughed as he clapped his friends back again.

You’d been gone all of the morning and afternoon; it was almost six o clock before you made your way back into the house. You had a little time to clear your head, you were ready for a conversation, you can’t let this continue on. You made your way through the door saying a quick ‘hi’ to Tess as you furrowed your brows.

What was that smell? It smelt amazing and you knew Tom had not inherited the same culinary skills his brother had. Your feet padded into the living room in search of your boyfriend. He wasn’t there but you heard him in the kitchen.

“How do you have the patience for this? Are you sure that’s everything? I don’t need to add anything else?” Tom asked whoever he was talking to. You made your way into the kitchen and were shocked by the sight before you. Tom was cooking, it smelt amazing and you wondered for a second if this was Tom. You cleared your throat and he turned around. He looked at you and gave you a shy smile.

“Sam I Gotta go. Thanks bro. I will.” He said as he ended his phone call.

“Who are you and what have you done with Tom?” You teased lightly and he laughed.

“I can’t take all that much credit. Sam guided me through everything but I made your favourite.” He said shyly. There was still an awkward tension in the air but it was better than yesterdays.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.” He said confidently. You took a moment to scan the room. He’d laid the table as if you were at some fancy restaurant. Your heart soared as you smiled. He’d even bought a bottle of your favourite red wine.

“Oh Tom.” You suddenly sighed, happy tears finding their way to your eyes, a stark contrast from yesterdays. He’d completely taken himself out of his comfort zone to do something nice for you and you couldn’t be more grateful. Whatever it was that was going on between you was slowly dissipating. He smiled sheepishly at you.

“I’m gonna go run a bath, this needs another hour before it’s ready.” He said as he made his way upstairs. You sniffled quietly as your heart felt like it was slowly gluing back together. He returned five minutes later and took your hand in his.

You followed him upstairs as he took you into the bathroom. You slowly undressed, he watched you as you slipped into the tub and smiled. He’d missed seeing you naked. It wasn’t a sexual need that had settled in him. It was that comfort and that trust that you felt at home enough with him to let him see you like this. He followed suit, finding his way behind you.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He said as you shook your head.

“No I’m sorry Tom. I was being stubborn and I should’ve apologised sooner.”

“We both should have. I love you.” He said as he kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

“I’ve missed you.” He placed a few loving kisses to your neck as you sighed and rolled your head back onto his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too. So much.” You said as you kissed his cheek. He smiled as he pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“We gonna be okay?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be okay.” You said confidently.

“Can I come back home?” He said sheepishly. You furrowed your brows as you turned round to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“Back to bed, back in your arms where I should be.” Tears were brimming both your eyes as you looked at each other. Normally, you’d pull him up for being cheesy but you couldn’t, this wasn’t the time. He was being vulnerable.

“Tom.” You sighed as you took his face in your hands, wiping the tear that had slipped down his cheek. “Of course you can. I still love you okay, that hasn’t changed, we just hit a rough patch.” You said as you kissed his forehead.

“I’ll be damned if I ever let my stubbornness take over again.” He sighed as he manoeuvred you back to your original position.

“You will and I will but it’s okay. Couples fight Tom, that’s normal. We’ll frustrate the hell out of each other at times but that’s okay as long as we still love each other. As long as you always come home.” You said as he kissed your shoulder again.

“I’ll always come back to you.” He concluded as he grabbed your shower gel and washed you. You silently cleaned each other up, fixing each other’s hearts as you went. It was loving and sweet and intimate and just what you both needed.

You ate your dinner and wow, it was amazing, you made a mental note to text Sam and thank him for his teaching skills. You cleaned up together and it was playful, normal. Like when you’d first got together. You had music playing softly in the background when your favourite song came on and you remembered your brother’s wedding you had attended six months ago. You and Tom had danced to this and you remembered your brother joking about how the two of you looked like the newlyweds.

Tom reached his hand out to you and you laughed. You’d already passed up one opportunity to tease him, you weren’t going to let this go.

“Do you not think this is a bit like the ending to a Hollywood romance film?”

“I am an actor sweetheart.” He teased back as he laughed.

Nevertheless you took his hand and he pulled you into his chest, you stayed like that in the kitchen. Slowly swaying but just enjoying the comfort of being in each other’s arms. Tom knew that you were it for him, that he wanted you and only you. It didn’t matter where he was in the world, he knew his end goal was always going to be to come home, back to you.

[lemonjoonah]

Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K  Rating: M  Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU  Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage. 

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe  and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14. 

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent  the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure. 

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes. 

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-” 

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response. 

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.” 

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.    

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down. 

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs. 

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.    

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’ 

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips. 

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door. 

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all,  please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter.  Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?”  You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father. 

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers.  “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it. 

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water. 

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station. 

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material. 

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.” 

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice. 

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”  

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-” 

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern. 

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?” 

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.” 

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included. 

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you. 

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him. 

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.” 

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism. 

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.” 

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.” 

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.” 

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted  private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.” 

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now. 

“There’s nothing else.” 

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence. 

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation. 

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.” 

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him. 

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin. 

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage. 

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.” 

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.” 

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.  

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too. 

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s  existence then what right does he have to disagree? 

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.” 

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid. 

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?” 

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.” 

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.” 

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl. 

“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?”  Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.  

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?” 

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment. 

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release.  “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but  a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away. 

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?” 

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern. 

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice. 

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?” 

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly. 

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns. 

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”  

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.” 

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement  from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

  ...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you. 

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it. 

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.” 

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being. 

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step. 

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.  

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath. 

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap. 

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed. 

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor.  As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence. 

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself. 

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”  

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet  indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles. 

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side. 

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you. 

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed. 

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?” 

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before. 

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?” 

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned. 

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.” 

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing. 

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands. 

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste. 

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air. 

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway. 

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.  

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure.  Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?” 

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day. 

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin. 

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.  

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?” 

“My secretary...” You give in with a  whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.” 

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers. 

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits. 

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation.  Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin. 

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion.  He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually. 

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so. 

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung. 

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing  your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis. 

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze  you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left. 

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?” 

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off. 

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”  

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.  

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent. 

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside. 

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor. 

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.” 

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

  It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him. 

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”  

“Why... why are you doing this?” 

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.” 

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.” 

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...” 

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop. 

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...