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sweetestberryofthebunch · 17 days ago

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Ultra Violet - Devil Wears Prada AU (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

When you struggle to find your footing at your new job at renowned Fashion Magazine Runway, a secret Guardian angel decides to help you out. Your mysterious fashionable gifts seem to catch even your stone cold, stern boss's eye. You can’t help but wonder if maybe Agatha Harkness knows more than she lets on.

Content/Warnings: The Devil Wears Prada!AU, CEO!Agatha x Assistant!Reader and the power dynamics that come with that, No pronouns or gendered terms used for R

✨Happy Valentine‘s Day my little loves! Get yourself a sweet cup of coco, a heart shaped treat and enjoy some all inclusive CEO!Agatha fluff!✨

Your new job at Runway was both the best and worst decision you had made your entire life.

Pay was better than the small tabloid you‘d written for until now, their reputation in the industry was insurmountable, and the office had a portafilter espresso machine. All your friends were especially jealous of that one. You’d landed a well paying position at one of the most prestigious fashion magazines in the world.

But that was also the problem. The Fashion. And, if you really boiled it down, your snobby, ruthless, obsessed with shallowness boss.

Agatha Harkness, head and face of the company. An icon of the scene, a trailblazer in the industry (at least that was what your coworkers told you.) Stoic, opinionated, and most of all, impossible to please.

Jen made sure to let you know about that. She had been Second Assistant before you got hired, but now she was promoted to First Assistant and you filled the new position.

She had explained the hierarchy to you in hushed whispers over morning coffee one day, while Mrs Harkness door had been shut and all you could hear were muffled voices arguing behind it.

Jen and your desks were in the hallway just outside, left and right to Harknesses door like two obedient guard dogs. You wondered if that was how she saw you, if she paid enough mind to her assistants for that at all.

It was only your fifth day working at Runway, and your To Do List was nothing but overwhelming. Meanwhile, Mrs Harkness barely spared you a glance, dropping her coat on your desk in the morning without a word, without even a glance, expecting things to be done and never returning a single gesture of gratitude. And everyone, including Jen, just jumped at her bid and word, like she was Queen of the world. It was … a lot.

„Who needs two Assistants anyway?“, you murmured with a chuckle as the meeting seemed to heat up, only to be met by a panicked stare from Jen.

„Don’t ever question Agatha Harknesses choices!“, she‘d tutted, and she looked like she had more to say. But she was interrupted by the door to the hallway where your desks were situated swinging open.

Lillia Calderu, head of the Runway Archives a few floors below dropped a thick binder of fabric samples onto your desk. Strips of dyed denim, all shades of purple so close to each other, you could barely tell a difference. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve laughed.

„What are you two whispering about?“, Lilia asked loudly, only to be met by both you and Jen shushing her sharply.

The voices behind the door to Mrs Harknesses raised in volume, and Lilia swallowed hard.

„I see“, she immediately switched to a whisper tone. „Vidal?“, she asked Jen, who nodded. They shared a serious look, flinching at the yelling.

You bit your lip, glancing from Jen to Lilia. The older woman took a deep breath, leaning against your desk, a hand on her hip.

„Rio wasn’t happy with the placement of her interview in the June Issue“, Jen explained, „I‘ve been getting angry calls from her secretary for days. Now Vidal showed up in person without making an appointment. Had to push back Calvin Klein, they were not happy.“

„What a glorious first week“, Calderu shook her head, giving you a sympathetic look. „Good Luck, Newbie“, she said, and then, her glance slowly dragged down your form, taking in your large green sweater and simple black jeans and sneakers. Her eyes widened, and as she looked back at Jen, she visibly shuddered, „You’re going to need it.“

„What, is something wrong with how I look?“, you gasped, loud enough to get another sharp shush from the other two.

You looked over at Jen, who just shook her head, raising her shoulders in a small shrug. „To be honest, we’ve all been wondering how you got this position in the first place. You‘re not exactly Runway material.“

„Or sidewalk material for that matter“, Lilia added, and Jen clutched her pearls dramatically, trying to stifle her laughter.

„You‘re not wrong, Calderu.“

You shot Jen a hurt look, ready to defend yourself. You were Second Assistant, most of your work happened on the phone, who cared if you wore Armani or not? After all, you had studied Journalism, not Fashion! And you were more than capable of showing professionalism in your profession!

But before you could give the two women a piece of your mind, the door flew open, and a dark haired woman in a suit strutted past you, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

„Admit it Agatha!“, she snarled, glaring back into the office over her shoulder, „This had nothing to do with the collection and everything with your own stubbornness!“

The woman, Vidal, turned around on her heels, dark hair whipping over her shoulder. As she turned, her eyes focused on you, and she froze in her tracks.

„Oh“, a dangerous little smirk formed on her lips. „You‘re new. Clearly.“

She took a step closer, Lilia moving out of her way as she did. Dark eyes watched your every movement like a lynx stalking its prey, and you suddenly felt incredibly exposed, even behind your desk. When she noticed you shudder, Vidal grinned, exposing her teeth.

„They really let anyone work here these days.“, raising her voice loud enough that it echoed through the hallway, she added „Who let the little barista in?“

To your horror, both Jen and Lilia just shrugged, not saying a word in your defense. Stupid, shallow Fashion industry.

Rio Vidal leaned over your desk, dangerously close to your face. She placed one hand on either side of you, practically caging you into your seat. Her voice was low as she smirked down at you, teeth exposed. „Aggie is going to eat you alive, little mouse. Better run while you can.“

„Rio!“, Mrs Harkness' voice rang from her office, a sharp cut through the air.

All four of you whipped your heads around, even Rio, finding the woman leaning against her office door, arms crossed, legs perfectly accentuated by a fitted culotte, a matching blazer draped over her shoulders, silk scarf loose around her neck. Her brow was creased, and sharp, ice cold eyes stared Rio down like a hawk. „Our meeting is over, Vidal. Get your ass out of my office. And“, her jaw tensed, eyes flitting over to you for less than a second. „Don’t touch my stuff.“

There was a slight frown on her face and you wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and fall through all nine floors of the building.

But still, Rio listened. With a scoff, the dark haired woman pushed herself off your desk, brushing past Lilia as she made her way towards the door.

„I‘m so sorry!“, Jen started babbling the moment the elevator doors closed and swallowed Vidal up, „She stopped for us, we did not-“

„Silence, Kale.“ Agatha didn’t even bother to look at her. Instead, her cold eyes closed in on Lilia. „Have your coffee break elsewhere, Calderu. There is no reason for you to linger around up here. And you, pet.“, her head whipped around, ice cold stare piercing right through you.

„Starting Monday, I want to see initiative. It’s time to take this Job seriously.“

Just like Rio had done just minutes before, Harkness leaned over your desk, glaring you down as she invaded your space. You leaned backwards into your chair, resisting the urge to flinch away. Blue eyes wander down your front, lingering over your exposed throat for just a moment longer. „And no more green at the office.“

Just as fast as she had leaned in, she was gone again, leaving your heart beating out of your chest, hands curled around the arm rests of your chair so tight, your knuckles turned white.

Agatha was already halfway back to her office. „Accompany Calderu back to her office, pet. I don’t want to see you when I leave. And next week, you either show up dressed like you want this, or don’t bother showing up at all.“

You weren’t ever going to admit it to anyone, especially Jen, but that night you crawled into the back of your uber with tears in your eyes. Fuck your stupid boss and her stupid standards and your stupid coworkers who only cared about appearances! Your work was hard, and ungrateful, and no one seemed to care that you did every little task, every small favour that wasn’t in your job description at all, and you did them all marvelously. But still, no one had your back because you wore converse instead of Louis Vuittons. Not even in front of your boss and her infamous ex wife, known for always somehow ending up closer to Agatha than the Runway CEO would like. Even then, in front of two of the most powerful women in the business, no one felt the need to stick up for you.

When you stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of your home, your uber gave you a worried look, and it only made you cry harder.

However, someone seemed to have your back.

As you walked up the stairs to your front door, you noticed a single package. A white box, even adorned with a lilac bow on top of it. And, when you crouched down to inspect the mystery package further, it had your name written on it at the top.

No tape or even a stamp, just a single gift box with a bow, looking like someone had snatched it away from under a Christmas tree. It wasn’t Christmas though, and it wasn’t your birthday either. It was a regular Friday, only tainted by the tears you‘d just spilled over your stupid job.

When you opened the box, carefully pulling at the lilac ribbon, your confusion didn’t let off either. In fact, you were even more lost with the contents.

A pair of black slacks, the fabric smooth and organic. No polyester in sight, this was high quality fabric. When you held them up, something fell out of the left pocket.

A card, a lapel pin attached to it. Fine, polished silver wrapping around a single, sparkling amethyst.

On the backside was a note, written in a cursive so filigrane that at first, you thought it must be printed.

No more jeans. Time to dress for the job you got.

You glanced up, but the street was empty, no cars other than resident vehicles parked under the flickering street lights. Whoever had dropped off this mystery gift had not stuck around. You swallowed, taking the box and bringing it inside. Maybe there was hope for you.

The gifts didn’t stop there. On Monday, you sat down at your desk, wearing your nice, new slacks and a slightly less washed out sweater today, you found another little box, the same white cardboard, the same ribbon. This one was way smaller though, small enough that Jen didn’t seem to notice from across the room as you unwrapped a brand new, sleek watch. The wrist band was incredibly light and slick, the watch itself small but neat, and the pointers were adorned with the tiniest little diamonds, tainted a bright blue if you held them up to the light. Underneath the watch was a note again. Neat cursive.

Meeting with Dior in 10, not 20. Wear the watch.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but before you could think about it, Jen hung up her current phone call, stress written all over her face.

„Dior called, they are coming in-“

„10, not 20“, you gave her a firm nod, „Don’t worry, I‘ll meet them and take notes for Harkness, you do the evaluation with Lilia.“

As you got out of your seat, you slung the new watch around your wrist. It sat perfectly. Jen gave you a confused but appreciative once over.

„Okay“, she said, „See you in 30.“

On Wednesday, you rushed in from driving Agatha’s son to soccer practice to find the hallway empty. Jennifer must have gotten stuck in a meeting. However, that wasn’t what caught your interest. As you put your laptop down, you noticed another box, this one sitting right in the seat of your chair. It was bigger than the others, and as you pulled the lid off, you were met with a bubble wrap. Whatever was in here, it was packaged like something incredibly precious. You bit your own tongue, anticipation bubbling up inside you. And then you unwrapped it.

A leather jacket. A little scuffed, worn in at the elbows. Definitely vintage, worn before. The arms were studded by silver rings, from the shoulders down to the cuffs. It was gorgeous, and vaguely familiar.

Behind you, you heard the clinking of porcelain, and then a sharp curse. When you spun around, Jen was already halfway across the room towards you, ignoring the fact she‘d spilled fresh coffee all over her desk.

„Where did you get that?“, she asked, panic in her voice. You clutched the jacket a little tighter.

„I found it here. Must be a gift.“

Jen came to a halt right in front of your desk, both hands immediately diving into the box on your seat.

„Hey!“, you nudged her away with your hip, but Jen‘s stance was firm, „Stop that!“

“Absolutely not!“, the first assistant just replied, „As per usual, you have no idea what any of this is about!“

„Then you should tell me, as first assistant and all!“, you shot back, and Jen let out a deep sigh.

„1998. Agatha Harkness gets photographed by paparazzi leaving Rio Vidal‘s mansion. The jacket she wore started a trend that didn‘t settle until denim took over in the 2000s.“ She gave you a long, serious glare. „You are holding that jacket.“

Before you could process what she just told you, and what any of that meant, your coworker already dove back into the box. At the bottom was a folded piece of cardboard, just off white and high quality. There was a set of simple, silver cuff buttons attached to it. Jen snatched the note out before you even had a chance to grab it.

„You polish up nice. Pair with a dress shirt.“ She read out loud, gasping.

„No signature? I can’t believe this! There is no way this left the archive without Mrs Harknesses permission.“

You reached for the note, but Jen took a step backwards, holding it out of your reach. Damn her and her high louis vuittons.

Her eyes closed in on you, pointing an accusatory finger at you. „This is why you‘ve been looking good! Someone is playing dress up with you! Do you have a secret admirer in the archives?“

„I don’t know who these are from!“, you told her truthfully, holding the leather jacket close to your chest. You still weren’t 100% sure she wasn’t just going to tear it from you.

„But … Someone‘s been helping me. Lilia has been a lot kinder since I changed the way I dress, even you shared your salad with me the other day!“

Jen creased her brow at that, glancing from the note in her hand to your face and back.

„I guess there hasn’t been any complaints from downstairs either. Whoever sends you stuff does so fair and square.“ She huffed, nose wrinkling, then shrugged, finally handing you the note. Soft, high quality paper, like artists used for Aquarelle painting. The same neat cursive as the other one.

Jen watched you and shook her head. „Whoever is sending you these is right though. You need a button up with this. And some good shoes.“

As if your secret angel had heard her, the next day, you found a bag with the Lauren Ralph Lauren logo printed on it under your desk. Inside was a shoe box. A pair of sleek black ankle boots, shiny, real leather, a minimal heel to give you just a little bit of extra height, but small enough to keep the shoe androgynous and cool. This time, there was no extra goodie attached to the note, however, when you turned it in your hand, a sour, citrusy scent found your nose. The paper was doused in perfume. This time, when you read the note, a smile slowly but surely crept up onto your features.

Looking good. Now show them exactly who you are, pet.

You licked your lips in excitement, glancing up from your desk. Mrs Harkness office door was closed, her way of letting you know she wanted no disturbances right now.

However, you could hear that one Lorna Wu song playing behind the door, the smooth sound of a record player unmistakable. You were starting to get an idea of who might be behind your sudden gift shower.

By Friday, you had an almost entirely revamped closet, held in shades of violet, plum and indigo. Today, you wore a flowy, long sleeved shirt made out of what you were pretty sure was pure dyed silk, the amethyst earrings and a matching bracelet, the slacks that had started all of this. You looked stylish, young, professional. You looked like you weren't a second assistant, but editor of Runway, and you carried yourself through the hall like it too, dropping the leather jacket on your chair as you passed your desk. Jen looked up from her laptop when you came passed, giving you an impressed nod.

„I‘m gonna be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.“

You let out a little snort, leaning against her desk. „Thanks Jen, you look great today too.“ She always did, of course. Jen had this game figured out like no other. No matter how much Mrs Harkness had to complain about her work ethic or her shitty handwriting or the coffee Jen bought her being just a little too sweet, not even the Wicked Witch of Runway could criticise Jennifer's style. But, if you were quite honest, you started to feel like you were holding up pretty well yourself. This morning when you‘d dropped off a new collection for the Archive, Lilia had pulled you into a tight hug, before introducing you to one of the photographers. She‘d never done anything of the sorts before. When you walked down the hallway, a binder or a bag of clothes or Agatha‘s lunch order in your hand, people greeted you, some even stepped out of the way now.

„So“, you flipped open your notebook, glancing at your To Do List for the day. „What does the afternoon look like for us?“

„I‘m dropping Nicky off at Alice‘s for his guitar practice.“ She explained, „And on the way back I‘ll stop by Gucci to pick up some samples. Agatha has calls until four, and expects her afternoon latte immediately after. Until then, you’re on phone duty.“ Jen gave you a small smile, and you dared to see pride on her face. „Nothing you can’t handle, superstar.“

That afternoon, you knocked at your bosses door no less than two minutes after she‘d finished her last call. You had a tray with her drink and a salmon cream cheese bagel, the mug still steaming as you peaked into the door.

„Coffee’s ready!“, you announced, ready to put the tray down and disappear again.

However, to your surprise, Agatha told you to come inside. You closed the door behind you, putting her order down on her desk before stepping away, feeling oddly exposed in the middle of the room like that.

You’d barely seen her all week, she was always either on the go but in a conference. But yesterday, as she had brushed past your desk, phone in hand as she’d once again yelled at Vidal about … something, you imagined that for the splinter of a second, she‘d winked at you in passing.

Now, Agatha‘s eyes dragged down your form, and for the first time this week, she genuinely smiled. Taking a sip of her latte, she gave you a satisfied nod.

„You may not look like a barista anymore, but I swear this stuff has been better since you started to do the coffee run.“

You caught your lower lip between your teeth. „Thank you, Mrs Harkness.“

Then, as you turned to leave, Agatha called out to you again.

„Wait up, pet.“

You froze, glancing over your shoulder back at her. There was an unreadable glimmer in her eyes, tainted lips curled into a small smirk. „Add whatever you like to drink to the order tomorrow. Use my card.“

You couldn’t help but gasp, smile so wide you quickly had to turn away, before she could see. This was entirely new. Coffee run meant a drink for Agatha, sometimes one for Lilia. Never for the assistants. Well, until now. „Thank you, Mrs Harkness.“

„Call me Agatha.“

„Of course, Agatha.“ Her name rolled off your tongue surprisingly easy, like it had always belonged there. You bit back a grin, feeling your stomach tighten. Her undivided attention felt like opiates in your system, made you feel like you were floating on clouds above the world. Like you wanted nothing else, ever again. It was dizzying.

„Come over here“, Agatha’s voice brought you back to reality. It was calm, and she nodded towards her desk, cluttered with notebooks, concept art and prior issues of the magazine. Every night before you left, you made sure to organise it, but over the course of just one day, Agatha always managed to restore the chaos.

Right now, she was getting off her seat, putting down her cup. To your surprise, she had foregone stockings today, bare skin under her deep purple, tight pencil skirt. The matching blazer was draped over the back of her chair, sleeves of her white shirt pushed up to her elbows. It was unusually casual, uncharacteristically human. It was intimate.

Your stomach did a little flip, stepping forward to stand in front of her desk as she had ordered. The quiet obedience gained you a satisfied little nod.

„You’ve been cleaning up quite well, pet.“

If you thought about it, you didn’t mind the pet name at all.

Praise from Agatha was a rare treat, if you believed Jen, it was near impossible. You played with the rings adorning your fingers, glancing down at the tips of your polished, shiny black boots.

Agatha paced around her desk in a slow circle, until she was standing right behind you. „Everything I’ve heard about you has been nothing but positive.“

Goosebumps rose on your skin. „Thank you, Mrs Harkness.“

She tutted. „I told you to call me Agatha.“

A warm hand grazed your hip, and you exhaled sharply at the touch. „And here I thought you were good at taking orders.“ She glanced at you over your shoulder, a mocking pout on her lips.

Her fingers curled around the silky fabric of your shirt for a mere moment before letting go again.

„Turn around.“ You spun around to face her without missing a beat.

Agatha‘s eyes dragged over your blouse, along your shoulders, your collarbones exposed by the silky fabric, dipping lower for just a moment. Your breath hitched.

She took a step forward, into your space. Instinctively, you took a step back. The air got sucked out of your lungs when you felt the desk press into the back of your legs. You were now caged in between Agatha‘s presence in front of you and her desk behind you.

Your boss seemed unbothered, her hand reaching out, running over the neatly folded collar of your shirt. You’d added the lapel pin to it, the silver reflecting in the blue of her eyes. You swallowed, and her glance focused on the movement of your throat.

„Gorgeous“, she murmured, and you weren’t sure what exactly she meant. You imagined you saw her lick her painted lips, but you weren’t sure. Either way, goosebumps tickled your arms, your chest, all over your skin.

Agatha’s index finger and thumb take your collar between them, silky, deep purple fabric running through her hold. You felt her gently tug on the fabric and your heart skipped a beat. The only thing you wanted was for her to touch your skin instead.

But then she spoke, and it took every fibre of your being to concentrate on her words.

„Ultra Violet, the Pantone Color of the Year in 2018“, her lips pursed into a dangerous, thin smile, „Do you know why that is?“

She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she took another step closer. You swallowed hard, halfway sitting on her desk now, knees sliding apart automatically as she stepped between them. You didn’t stop her, just held still as she invaded your space. It was like there was electricity flimmering through the air.

“George Hobeika Fall 2017 Couture showcase. He comes to me with a collection of deep oranges and reds. Orange for fall? How original. I send him a note telling him to shove his off the rack bullshit back to where he must be hiding that visionary spirit he claims to have. The color of the paper?“ Her brows raised, blue eyes unreadable as she scanned your face expectantly.

„Ultra Violet“, you guessed, and the pleased curl of her lips has your heart almost beating out of your chest.

„Exactly“, she murmured, so close that you felt her breath on your face. „Ultra Violet. The colour of the standout dress of the show, the colour you saw on every Magazines front page for a full year after.“ She chuckled, tugging on your collar just the smallest bit. The upper button came undone. You didn’t stop her.

Agatha’s voice dropped. „I send Kale to buy office supplies once and the entire fashion industry bends over backwards for me.“

Her fingers let go of your blouse. Instead, her thumb hooked underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards. There was no escape to her intense eye contact now. Her voice was low, amused. She practically purred at you.

„And look at you, wearing my color, seven years later.“

She took another step towards you. Her hips pushed against yours now, and your hands found the surface of her desk behind you, pushing yourself upwards as she pinned you against it. Her body was warm against you, even through layers of expensive satin and velvet. It was only now that you noticed your blouse matched the colour of her skirt, of her blazer. Her rings were adorned with the same amethysts that dangled off your ears.

All the little gifts on your desk, every single item in your new, professional closet, they all had one thing in common. Ultra Violet. The colour of the Woman herself. Every single thing that made Jen green with envy or Lilia whistle impressed, they weren’t just gifts from a secret admirer who wanted to help you. They were territorial markings. They were hers. You were hers, visible to everyone’s eyes.

Blue eyes twinkled down at you in approval, the realisation written all over your face.

„My colour, all over you“, Agatha purred, her thumb dragging along your jaw, up towards your cheekbone, and then slowly towards your slightly parted lips. Her touch was gentle and you stopped breathing at the feeling, trying hard not to lean into the touch. But then, her hand found your hair, fingers curling into it, pulling you closer. Her other hand slipped around your waist, palm pressed firmly against your lower back. A familiar scent found your nostrils, sour and citrusy.

She was so close, you felt every single one of her words on your lips.

„You wear it so well.“

That was when the knot inside you snapped. All restraints, every last ounce of professionalism flew right out the window. Your eyes fell shut. It took barely a slight nudge of your chin to close the gap between you. Finally, your lips were on hers.

Agatha was firm against you. The sweetness of Charlotte Tilbury matte lipstick met your tongue, her painted lips creamy and soft against you. She kissed you with vigour, her hand firm on your lower back as she pushed you flush against her. She leaned forward, pushing you onto her desk with strong arms. Your shirt slipped off one shoulder and you let out a surprised squeal. Agatha took the opportunity and slipped her tongue between your lips. The faint bitterness of Espresso hit your tastebuds, her tongue dancing around you with the confidence of a leading dance partner.

Your hands found her shoulders as your back hit the surface of her desk, pulling her down with you. Holding onto her tightly as she stood between your legs, she kept you in place exactly where she wanted you with the hand in your hair.

A little moan escaped your lips, devoured immediately by her mouth against yours, and her teeth grazed over your swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly, the penetrant sound of a new notification cut through the air. On the other end of the desk, Agatha‘s phone lit up, vibrating once.

A part of you wanted to grab the damn thing and throw it out the window into the night, but you also wanted to keep your job. Now more than ever, actually.

So, as Agatha pulled away, adjusting her blazer as she did, you pulled your shirt back in place as well. But not with a frustrated little sigh, sitting up on her desk as she gave you a warning look with raised brows.

While you were still catching your breath, Agatha stepped around her desk casually, reaching for her phone before turning to the skyline behind her desk, New York City gleaming back at her in shades of Neon and Steel blue. The bright Purple Runway sign from above your building tainted the entire street in a faint violet light. Her mark was everywhere.

Agatha‘s brow creased as she typed into her phone.

„Before you go home, make a dinner reservation for two at the French Place at the Boulevard. 9 pm sharp. Message Nicky‘s babysitter to let her know I‘ll be late.“, she said matter of factly, and you scrambled for your notepad to write down everything she told you. Even your notepad was purple. How had you never noticed that until now?

„And remember to pick up your suit for Vidal‘s Gala before Saturday. You’re going to need a fitting.“ You tried to ignore the way your heart leaped in your chest. Your first event as her assistant, and she was taking you and only you!

“Oh, and Y/N,“ Your name on her lips was new, and it was exciting. You felt your chest flutter at the sound.

Agatha turned back around to look at you, the city lights illuminating her form. Her lipstick had smudged the slightest bit, but it did not ruin the image of perfection she was. If anything, it just made your stomach burn even hotter. Her eyes found yours and there was a twinkle in them, lips curled into a subtle smirk.

“You have Dinner at the French place on Boulevard at 9. There‘s an outfit waiting for you in the Archive.“

A knowing smirk tugged at your lips, raising a brow at her. „I must polish up nice to wear archived items.“

Agatha tutted, bright eyes twinkling. „You have been.“

#berry writes things #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha coven of chaos #agatha x rio #Jennifer kale #Rio Vidal #Lilia Calderu #Marvel #mcu #aaa #fluff #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #Agatha harkness x gn!reader

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hannyoontify · 4 months ago

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i love you - lee seokmin

member | best friend!seokmin x reader

genre | college!au, best friends to lovers!au, fluff

word count | 1.3k

synopsis | you're sick and stuck at home during halloweekend. you were planning to spend the night wallowing in self-pity and tissues, until a certain ray of sunshine disrupts your plans.

warnings | none? js food? and pining ig lol pls lmk if i missed anything

notes | i don’t rlly like this fic 😭 this was a horrible attempt at a sick fic please forgive me. not proofread

seok: heyyy seok: how’s the cold?

[name]: like death warmed up, actually

seok: oh wait i know this one seok: THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA REFERENCE!! RIGHT??

[name]: LMFAOO NICEE

seok: i do my homework :3

[name]: i’m proud of you, my pupil [name]: how’s the party?

seok: boringggg boo boo boooooo it’s boring without you seok: i was actually thinking about leaving

[name]: why? you’ve been looking forward to this party for weeks

seok: yeah but it’s not fun without my wolverine. we’re supposed to be deadpool and wolverine. me being deadpool is js. plain. boring. seok: so i’m leaving rn. wanna binge watch gilmore girls and eat pumpkin cheesecake bars that i stole from mingyu’s kitchen?

[name]: oooo yes please [name]: … and maybe some sinex? i lost mine :<

seok: no need to ask twice. i’ll be there in 20

[name]: you’re the best

The door to your apartment closed shut just as you had finished setting up your living room to the ‘BatCave’, as Seokmin liked to call it. It was something the two of you started since your freshman year when you were assigned to the dingy, tiny campus dorms and you had to make do with the small space the two of you had. There was no specific shape or structure to the BatCave. It was a discombobulated heap of pillows and blankets thrown atop an air mattress that you and Seokmin salvaged from an elderly woman’s yard sale during the spring semester in your sophomore year.

“Here, here! I’m here!” Your ears perked up at the sound of your best friend entering the foyer and Seokmin quickly made his way to you with two big plastic bags in hand, pressing a quick kiss to your head that made your heart flutter. “How are you feeling?”

You scrunched up your nose and spoke in a nasally voice. “Sick.”

Seokmin gave you an empathetic smile and reached into his coat pocket before handing you a box of Sinex. “Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas. Didn’t I bring you one this morning too?”

“I don't know where it went! I lost it!” You sniffled.

Seokmin busied himself with making a big show out of taking off his outer jacket, revealing his Halloween that he spent $180 on. The Deadpool costume was originally your idea, suggesting that he should buy a Deadpool onesie and call it a costume, but your best friend insisted on going full out. You thought it was ridiculous that he spent almost 200 dollars on a Halloween costume, but Seokmin thought otherwise.

‘Go big or go home.’ Was what he had said.

… At least, that’s what you think he said. He was way too drunk to form a coherent sentence at the time.

“Well, it’s gotta be somewhere.” Seokmin emphasized with a wave of his hands. “I’m going to change. You still have my clothes, right?”

You nodded and waved him towards your bedroom. “Second drawer on the right. It should be on the way top.”

“Thanks, this suit keeps giving me a wedgie and it doesn’t feel really…” He paused to adjust himself with a pained look on his face. “Nice.”

You watched with a smile as he disappeared into your bedroom, adjusting himself under the suit on the way. “You should demand a refund.” You called out to him.

“Oh, you bet I will!” He called back and you barked out a short laugh.

You don’t know how much time has passed since Seokmin first came into your apartment. The glass container that once held Mingyu’s famous pumpkin cheesecake bars was void, not a single crumb leftover. The ceramic mugs that were once filled to the brim with hot chocolate were empty, and the popcorn bowl resting in Seokmin’s lap was half empty.

Everything was perfect. The congestion in your nose had disappeared, thanks to the Sinex Seokmin had bought you, your fever was gone, and you had never felt more warm in your life, nestled into Seokmin’s side with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Your favorite fleece blanket was pulled up into your chin and you were positive you had reached the most optimal comfortable state possible for a human.

“You okay?” Seokmin asked quietly. You felt the low hum of his voice reverberate in his chest where your head laid and you nodded.

“Yeah… just tired.” You responded quietly. “I think the Benadryl is in my system; I’m sleepy.”

He hummed and wrapped both arms around you, pressing his lips against your temple. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You nestled yourself further into his chest and nodded again, taking note of the faint scent of his cologne mixed with his shampoo and the calming effect it had on you. Your fingers searched for refuge in Seokmin’s embrace and you let out a small sigh as he began to stroke your head, his gaze still fixed on the screen, where Rory was dying Lane’s hair purple.

Your eyes fluttered closed in resignation, a battle lost against sleep and fatigue. The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was Seokmin’s finger lightly tracing indiscernible patterns on your shoulder.

The gentle pitter patter of the raindrops against your window jolted you awake and you shifted under the blanket, cozying yourself closer into Seokmin’s embrace. The movie on your laptop was paused, and Seokmin had his arm under your head, his eyes closed and lips slightly ajar as he took shallow breaths in his sleep.

The clock on the wall told you it was way too early–or late–to be awake, and you groggily rubbed at your eyes. The lights outside casted an eerie shadow on Seokmin’s sleeping face as his lashes fluttered ever gently against his skin, drawing your attention to the mole he had under his eye.

You reached out, lightly tracing the small freckle with your fingertip. There was a familiar fluttering in your stomach as your eyes scanned Seokmin’s face, your hand lightly resting on the side of his face. He nuzzled his face against your palm, humming quietly as he tugged you closer to his chest with the arm he had resting underneath you.

Heat rushed to your face as Seokmin rested his chin atop the crown of your head. The two of you remained like that, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort as the hand on the clock endlessly ticked by.

With every tick of the clock, you felt yourself falling harder and faster for the man who was currently holding you in his embrace. Seokmin was your best friend, your other half. The two of you met during freshman year move-in day, and you had known him as the smiley boy who lived across the hall. But now, you were in your senior year and he was Lee Seokmin, an irreplaceable and undoubtedly, the most favorite part of your life. Without Seokmin, you were missing a part of yourself.

“I love you.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could register what they were. It was barely above a whisper, spoken into the darkness where it would remain a secret between only you and the shadows.

Your words hung heavily in the air and you sucked in a quiet breath, nervous that you might’ve woken Seokmin up. There was a moment of silence, like the world was holding its breath to wait for his response, if he had one at all.

Seokmin’s eyes fluttered open and his warm, brown eyes stared into yours. Under the pale moonlight, his eyes sparkled, like pools of warm and enticing honey, drawing you in. Your eyes flickered to his mole, then the hand you still had resting on his cheek.

“Sorry, I–” Fumbling, you tried to draw your hand away but Seokmin stopped you, resting his hand atop of yours.

“... I love you too.”

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

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mlbigbang2024 · 2 months ago

Text

ML Big Bang 2024 Fic Recs

Romance Category

This collection of fics were recommended by the contributors of the @mlbigbang2024 for their favourite fics of 2024 (posted in between Nov 2023 to Dec 2024).

General and Teen and Up Fics

The Cap and Bells (Rated: G)

By @cardiac-agreste (KPG)

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Loveybug AU, loveywalker, implied Ladynoir

Summary: Catwalker meets up with Loveybug after a difficult day in his civilian life.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: How can you express joy and love in 600 words or less, in all its poetic glory?

Off Pointe (Rated: T)

By @mysticraven20

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: AU - No Miraculous, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, AU - Ballet

Summary: To Adrien, dance was just a selection of movements. A well rehearsed transition from one gesture to the next; the brush of a hand, the closeness of bodies, a well-timed duet between two people to entertain. His mother had encouraged him to dance from his heart and love his music — a metaphor he never understood, until that one day when they stopped. The pregnant pause in the combination of fluidity, finally making everything clear.

It wasn’t the quality of the choreography or the characters they were playing, it was the girl twirling effortlessly around in his arms. For, when Adrien finally found the right partner, that’s when the music truly began.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: This is a beautiful holiday fic. I loved the newspaper articles as a narrative device and the author conveys a love of dance in between all the fluff and angst.

The Devil Wears Gabriel (Rated: T)

By @jigglypuff1994

Main relationship: Luka/Marinette

Tags: Inspired by The Devil Wears Prada, Fashion Designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Turtle Nino Lahiffe | Carapace

Summary: Being Ladybug is no easy task; she is the leader of Team Miraculous and keeps peace throughout Paris. Other than the weekly akuma attacks, her main problem is keeping Chat Noir and Viperion under control and out of each other’s jealous hairs. Sometimes, she misses the old days when it was just her and her kitty.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has recently graduated university and lives in Paris with her steady boyfriend of a few years, Luka Couffaine. After interviewing for a position she doesn't want in the first place, she ends up working as Gabriel Agreste’s assistant.

Between akumas, a narcassistic boss, and the men fighting for her attention, how will she survive the next year of her life?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It is a retelling of the movie the devil wears Prada, (also, Natalie is a bit younger in this) I really like it because I love that movie. The characters fit pretty seamlessly in these roles. In this fic Adrian/ Chloe never met Marinette and the others. Oh and at the start of the fic is Lukanette still a thing, but if you know the movie, then you also know there is some angst ahead. :’D (Oh and I personally love the relationship between Chloe and marinette, it’s to die for!! <3)

Cookie Cutter (Rated: T)

By @rosekasa (alizeh, maketea)

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Friends to lovers, baking, identity reveal

Summary: after the start of their government-issued break, ladybug and chat noir realise that their christmas vacations are not going the way they expected.

but when ladybug, lonely and partner-less for her favourite baking competition, accidentally stumbles across chat noir's secret apartment, they realise there are more ways than one to work as a team.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Ladybug and Chat Noir bake together!!!! Gosh I am a sucker for fics where they have to cooperate on non-akuma things! AHHHHHHHH!!!

The Only Love We Keep (Rated: G)

By @nemaliwrites

Main Relationship: Audrey & Zoe, Chloe & Zoe, Marinette & Zoe, Alya/Zoe

Tags: 5+1 Things, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Zoé is used to wanting things she can’t have — loving people who do not love her back. She’s made peace with that.

But as soon as she meets Scarabella, she’s a goner.

Or, five times Zoé’s love wasn’t reciprocated, and one time it was.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It's a 5+1 prompt about an oft-derided character, looks at Zoe’s American life, and explores her budding romantic feelings. Even if you don’t care about Zoe, this is a must-read.

A Contact Named Kevin (Rated: T)

By @mysticraven20

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Scapegoat, anonymous caller, idiots in love

Summary: Marinette doesn’t know his real name, but her contact known as ‘Kevin’ has helped her out of many sticky situations.

Or the one where Chat Noir is Marinette's scapegoat.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: A sweet fic about Marinette using Chat Noir as the person she calls to get her out of sticky social situations. It’s cute and fun and original. Author is one of the most dedicated Adrienette writers in the fandom.

Phantom Pains (and other hints of you) (Rated: T)

By @buggachat

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: AU - Ghosts, Child Abuse, Implied Sexual Content

Summary: She couldn't remember anything. Not where she was going, where she'd been, why she was in this stairwell, or even her own name. But as she watched the blood pool at the base of the steps, she at least knew one thing for certain: the corpse was hers.

Getting used to being dead was going to have its growing pains.

—

“Well, unlucky lady,” Chat Noir greeted with a bow, “Can I get your name?”

“Didn’t we just talk about this? I told you, I don’t remember it.”

“And I told you,” he reminded, “that you can just pick whatever fits you best.”

—

Ladybug and Chat Noir may not remember who they once were, but at least the two lost souls can find comfort in each other's company. But as Ladybug starts uncovering more and more memories of her life, letting the past go doesn't seem as easy as Chat Noir claims it to be.

Read on Ao3

Why we liked it: Marinette DIES. Now she's a ghost. But not everyone is sad! A wonderful story with inventive lore.

Mature and Explicit Fics

Hold My Hand (I want to show you off) (Rated: E)

By @burntwaffle12

Main relationship: Adrien x Marinette

Tags: workplace sex, semi-public sex

Summary: Working at Gabriel was as easy as breathing, until she was required to sit on top of Adrien and kiss him all over.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: A story about hot mess Marinette helping Adrien during an awkward photoshoot.

Requiem for a Dream (Rated: E)

By @akumatisedhamster

Main relationship: Adrien/Luka/Marinette

Tags: Lukadrienette Endgame, Primary School teacher Adrien, Jubilation powers used for evil

Summary: Six years ago, the Supreme was defeated with the help of Shadybug and Claw Noir. But not without its consequences. Trapped in a magical coma using the power of jubilation, they were slowly tortured, reliving nightmares of their own design.

In an act of desperation, Hesperia wiped the memories of Shadybug and Claw Noir so that they could live the rest of their lives as normal teenagers.

What he didn’t know was that Shadybug was pregnant at the time. ——————————————— Newly single and broke, Marinette moves back to Paris with her six year old daughter.

She was doing just fine, mending her broken relationship with her parents and finding her feet again in her hometown. Working as a porn star had its advantages. Good money, flexible hours. Things got more complicated when she started dating her co-star, Luka. On top of that, she didn’t expect to get feelings for her daughter’s primary school teacher, Mr Agreste.

Her new boyfriend couldn’t stop noticing how her daughter bore a striking resemblance to Adrien. But he wasn’t the girl’s father… or was he?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: I love the post-Supreme reverse world and the whole memory wipe element!

A Bump in the Road (Rated: E)

By @talkstoself

Main Relationship: Adrien/Luka/Marinette

Tags: No Powers AU, Established Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy

Summary: Four years. Four years they’d been together when their relationship hit a fork in the road - Luka wanted a baby, Adrien did not. After going their separate ways Adrien spends a fantastic night with a down-on-her-luck stranger named Marinette and realises he does want forever. He’s ready to commit to Luka.

Slight problem, the one night stand left Marinette pregnant…

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: The relationship that slowly grew between Luka Adrien and Marinette was wonderful!

It's Hard to Overstate my Satisfaction (Rated: E)

By katrinette_afterdark

Main Relationship: Ladynoir

Tags: Porn, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously

Summary: "Have you ever thought about what would happen if you put my baton in your yo-yo?"

She squints at him. "Is that supposed to be a euphemism?"

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: This is crack smut at its finest! Hilarious concept, excellent execution.

Two Virgin Losers (Rated: E)

By @literaphobe

Main relationship: Ladynoir

Tags: Virginity Loss, Aged-up Character(s), Sexual Humor

Summary:

kittykittymeowmeow: My superhero partner (23F) recently asked me (23M) to take her virginity. I’m guessing she thought I was some type of sex god whore, but I’m actually also a huge virgin. For some reason, my lack of sexual prowess made her double down on her decision? She got kind of excited for us to platonically lose our virginities to each other and that made me panic. I mayyyy have told her I don’t want to be deflowered by another virgin, just in case she sucks at sex and I wind up hating it. The truth is, I think she’d be great at sex (she also thinks this). I think she’s amazing at everything she tries. I’ve also fallen in love with her multiple times and I will almost definitely get obsessed with her again if I sleep with her. Unfortunately, even though she’s really mad at me right now, I want her so bad I think I might die. Um… AITA?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about tit ( <- serendipitous typo): Ladybug asks Chat Noir to take her virginity. Then they tap-dance around each other, and inside each other, with alacrity, angst, passion, and idiocy.

Queen Marinette: A Royal Engagement (Rated: M)

By @hamsteriffic

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Arranged Marriage, AU - Royalty, Georgian Period

Summary: Princess Marinette had always known she would marry for duty, but she had never even heard of King Adrien until her betrothal (she would know, because she had looked up all the crown Princes within a hundred mile radius).

Nevertheless, her parents were delighted at the offer of marriage and her uncle was given the privilege of escorting her to England for her wedding and the whole thing felt wrong.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Period pieces can be so fun, can’t they? I spent a long time with my wife playing Queen Charlotte in the background of my life. She may have Netflix, but I have Ao3 and this! I win! The sex, when it comes, is perfectly written, plot-centered intimacy.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #fic recs #fic recs 2024 #Lovesquare #mlbigbang 2024 #mlbigbang #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ladybug #chat noir #luka couffaine

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bella-goths-wife · 11 months ago

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I wasn't sure initially but after reading them all I must admit I've enjoyed your Yandre Vs x pet posts and love Velvette in particular. Can you do something similar but just for Velvette? Either Yandre, she owns your soul or just an obsessive girlfriend (general neutral reader).

Yandere girlfriend velvette

Warnings: obsessive behaviour but not as bad as pet series, reader is an objectively bad person but in a the devil wears Prada way, ooc velvette?

This isn’t canon to the pet series and is a completely different au! So reader is not pet and is treated significantly better

First of all, you’d have to be something special for velvette to treat you as an equal, let alone develop a romantic relationship with

And you were definitely something special

You were a fashionista demon who died in the 2000s, but your death would not stop you from building an empire

You created unique clothing pieces that blended the fun and freeness of the previous generations with a fresh Y2K style

Think monster high outfits, your outfits held darker and lighter tones blended together which incorporated different cultures from all over the world

You also had a unique ability that helped you with this, you had the ability to put your emotions into the clothing you’d handcrafted

Literally, so if you made a scarf while feeling sad, whoever wore the scarf would then feel sad for however long they wore the scarf

This made your brand unique and gave you an edge that stood out from the other companies

You started out on market stalls but eventually you gained investors and expanded into a company that even had hell’s celebrity’s wearing your clothes

Stolas had commissioned you to make Octavia’s debut dress, veroskia had asked you to create her entire wardrobe for her tour around the hells rings and even the Lilith was photographed wearing one of your dresses

You had officially built your fashion empire that you’d always dreamed about and you even owned your own tower

This unfortunately meant that you couldn’t keep up with demand and handcraft each clothing item and would have to expand the workforce and hire skilful factory workers

This meant that your ability to put your emotions into the clothing wouldn’t work, so you made a limited edition line out every year with one new clothing item coming out every month

Each outfit would have a theme that connected with the emotions, so you’d do a rouge rage or a cerulean calm

You’d sell these to the highest bidder and would quickly become your top earning products with brawls happening at the bidding wars

But your company being successful only made your bad personality traits worse as you became more demanding and perfectionist to your staff in a way that made you a bad person but in a devil wears prada way that had the newer generations of demons calling you an icon

You had an attitude very similar to velvettes, only with the skills and the maturity to carry it

Velvette hated watching you grow your empire so much that it almost rivalled hers in popularity and income

She hated that you’d practically done it all by yourself while she had relied on Vox financially and he only did that because of his interest In her abilities with social media

She hated that she actually liked your clothing and she hated that your ability made you stand out

But she hated most of all that you two had come to hell within months of each other, yet you were a respected ceo and overlord while she was seen as a joke by overlords and parts of the fashion community

She also hated how insanely pretty you were, but she didn’t come to terms with that until later

She would try and do anything to discredit you and make it so your popularity would go down when you were neck and neck

She tried ‘exposing’ you on social media for having poor working conditions and being rude to workers but she forgot this is hell and literally no one cares

She tried slandering you and your clothing brand on social media, but she forgot your modern and you know how to use social media to your advantage too

You kinda turned into a meme similar to the Wendy’s twitter memes whenever you clapped back at velvette

She tried to pull your investors by threatening them with voxtech legal action, but you’d become self sustaining and could handle the loss with having hells celebrities commissioning your personal pieces

She tried to make you look foolish in front of the other overlords, but they all respected you much more than they respected her

She even tried to copy one of your designs but you called her out and she had to do one of those influencer apology videos but it mostly just consisted of her badmouthing you and justifying her actions

Her hatred bored on obsession with how regularly she stalked your profiles and life

After around ten years of this rivalry, you grew bored with it and you were running out of ideas

So you contacted the Vs and sat down in a meeting with them where you suggested a collaboration of the fashion designers on your terms

Velvette wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but Vox insist that it would be extremely profitable and practically forcing velvette to accept

So you started a collaboration

You and velvette butted heads a lot or some stylistic choices

It was so bad that eventually you couldn’t be in a room together for a few weeks

This collaboration took months, and during this time velvette got to hate you up close as she got to know every annoying detail about you

Except that hatred changed to something different over the months she worked with you, you intrigued her in a way that no one else has ever before

It all came to a stop one night when you two had gone out to a club together for social media promo for the upcoming collab

You shared drinks and complaints about one another and one thing led to another and you two had a drunken make out session in the back of the limo

But velvette hauled ass as soon as she realised she was swapping spit with her arch nemesis

She laid in bed and thought about her actions

Could all of those years of feeling hatred and jealousy towards you just been her suppressed attraction to you?

Could all those tense moments she assumed was awkward tension actually been sexual tension?

The thought made velvette want to scream into a pillow

She pushed her feelings down and decided to just avoid you until the collab was over

She thought it would be easier to hate you rather than face her obvious attraction to you

You tried talking with her many times during the collab but she just ignored you, and this hurt you deeply

So you complied with her wishes and after the collab ended you went back to living your lives without each other

But velvette found herself missing you and being around you

Staff especially noticed that she was much harsher to them then before

She felt herself wanting to reach out to you to beg you to either kiss her or reject her because surely rejection would be easier to deal with than this

But it all changed when rumours started circulating

Velvette had been innocently scrolling through social media until she came across a drama channel that claimed to have spotted you in a romantic moment with none other than veroskia mayday

Velvette found herself consumed with absolute disgust and jealousy

She stalked yours and veroskia’s profile and begged Vox to use his hypnosis to send trolls to verkoskia’s profile

The rumours were cleared up after you made a response that claimed that you and veroskia were only friends, but velvette still felt consumed with rage

She did something completely out of character

She went to you at your place of work and cornered you in your office before confessing every little feeling she’d ever had for you

She practically begged you to be with her, but you just sighed and explained that she had hurt you with her actions and that you couldn’t see yourself in a relationship with her

“It would hurt the brands” is what you also said, and that cut velvette deeper than any knife

She had felt pathetic, and she’d never feel pathetic in any relationship

Even before she had gotten to know you, your instant rise to success left her feeling small

You held power over her, and maybe that’s why she was so obsessed and attracted to you

She’d felt surrounded by people who were less than her all her life, and falling for you felt like finally finding an equal

And she wasn’t going to let you go that easily

She’d destroy you and your company if it meant that you’d love and rely on her

Hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if you want me to make this another series

Tag list:

None yet, let me know if you wanna be tagged in future works like this for this if it becomes a series :)

#hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vees #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #yandere velvette x reader #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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gabessquishytum · 5 months ago

Note

Devil Wears Prada Dreamling AU

Dream is the ice king editor of Homme magazine; Hob is the charming 'Just a Guy'TM real journalist who doesn't really care about fashion, but needs a job (he's a career change older new journalist.)

But we all know that when Hob starts putting in the effort, he looks all kinds of head turning good in the clothes from the closet; he's amazing getting Orpheus that rare sheet music he wants; he makes sure Dream eats on time; and he effortlessly works as Dream's right hand.

The break comes when Hob rushes to Dream to tell him that Cori and Burgess are scheming to oust him from the magazine and Dream is all you didn’t have to come to my defense/everyone wants to be us speech,,,, and Hob counters with no we're friends, you are my friend and I protect my friends; to which Dream is all you dare?! You are just using (me/)people and enjoying the perks of the job, don't mistake that for friendship.

Hob is the one who leaves (walks out of the limo & pitches his phone in the fountain), because Dream isn't ready for them yet. But, Hob promises (himself) he'll be back.

I'm such a sucker for Ice King Dream. Just the frostiest, rudest bastard you've ever met. And by god he is soooooo sexy.

When Hob turns up for his first day of work in beige trousers and a polo shirt, Dream nearly fires him on the spot just for the audacity. But, Hob is a really good writer and reporter and general assistant to Dream so he is allowed to stay. Begrudgingly. Only because he got Dream’s coffee order right the very first time.

Hob makes friends and allies in the office, like Lucienne (who is immune to Dream’s bullshit) and even Cori, who is Dream’s other assistant. At first Cori is a fun guy, jokingly scathing about Hob’s fashion choices, but as Hob starts to learn how to dress and obviously becomes Dream’s favourite, jealousy begins to bloom. Whenever Hob goes over to Dream’s house to drop stuff off, Dream always breaks into a tired, relieved smile because Hob just makes him feel good. And when Dream takes Hob to Paris instead of Cori, it's the final straw for Cori to snap and start working with Burgess. Hob is immediately sure that something fishy is up, and he puts in a huge effort to snoop on what Cori is up to... putting his own safety on the line in the process. Of course Dream is an ungrateful bastard and completely ices Hob out, basically saying that eventually Hob will betray him too, it's only a matter of time, they are most certainly not friends... Hob knows his own worth and he pretty much says okay, I quit. Dream is totally blindsided.

Hob has enough experience working for Dream and a great reference from Lucienne, so he's immediately snapped up for a new job at a national newspaper. Dream is still fuming, especially when he sees that Hob is still dressing like an absolute snack, using all the little things that Dream taught him to put together cute outfits.

Then at a big gala event, Dream’s brand new assistant Matthew kind of fumbles the whole thing (he didn't memorise the entire file of gala guests so he can't tell Dream who the people are and make the whole thing run smoothly). Hob steps out of nowhere with a wink and a smile, and starts whispering the information to Dream so that he can talk to each guest perfectly. Dream can't decide whether a kiss or a slap would be more appropriate... so he settles for holding Hob’s hand for the rest of the evening. Maybe, just maybe, they can make it work.

#the sandman #dreamling

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host-club-hq · 2 years ago

Note

heyyy !!! can i submit a request ? thanks !!! feel free to reject/deny this if u want to tho !!!

reader who’s from a middle to upper middle range family and they’re like in their 20’s or so and they just seem to have a lot of time and money on their hands but their family doesn’t know what they exactly do in terms of work so they confront her and ask if they’re doing drugs or nsfw work and turns out they have a bf (kyoya) who’s just really rich

thanks !!! 🫶

➼ pairing: kyoya ootori x fem!reader (slice of life!AU)

➼ summary: you come from a middle class family and all of a sudden you’ve been spending considerably large amounts of money… and your family is wondering what exactly it is you do for a living nowadays? are you in with the wrong sort of people?

➼ word count: 2.7k

➼ what to expect: "It's worth nothing if you aren't wearing it."

➼ warnings: none :) unless an excessive amount of fluff causes you to have severe heart issues (me too babe)

➼ i literally saw this request and was like oh my god i have to write it, then since i wasn't at my laptop, proceeded to write the fic in my beta reader's dms. thank u so much for this request it actually helped me get out of a writing rut :)

You never thought you would be sitting in your apartment for a living.

Well, technically, that's not what you do for a living, but it might as well be.

You work from home, with extremely short hours and a paycheck that's nothing to write home about. You could do your job from an office, but why bother? Most of the 8 hours you would work, you'd be sitting at your desk with nothing to do, your brain going numb from lack of stimulation.

Although you don't enjoy having virtual meetings with strangers, that's basically your entire job — you are a virtual history tutor, after all.

You never wanted to be a teacher but you still wanted to pass your extensive knowledge on to other generations, so you figured either being a substitute teacher or a tutor would suffice. And when the school you applied to mentioned an online tutor position, you snatched it up and ran with it.

Of course, you had a job before this. And it definitely wasn't your dream job. Before your passion for teaching arose, you took one of the first jobs you found available that called you for an interview. The secretary of a prestigious CEO of... a company that you're not quite sure what they did (you called it your Devil Wears Prada moment). You vaguely remember copying data and putting things in color-coded folders, but the position was brutal. You were set with impossible tasks and goals that your immediate superiors struggled to reach (truly, your Devil Wears Prada moment). You contemplated swerving your car into oncoming traffic every day on your way to work at 6:30 in the morning (obviously you didn't, too many innocent lives would have been put in danger).

But, at least, that's where you met-

Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock... knock, knock

Your ears immediately perk up and you turn your head toward the front door from your position on the sofa in the living room. There's only one soul alive that would knock on your door in that fashion.

You shut your laptop rather hastily and leap up to answer the door, sliding through the kitchen and the entry foyer in your socks to get there. Honestly, the distance from the front door to your workspace could have been considered a 5k marathon (no it's not, you're just out of shape).

You don't even have to glance at the peephole before you open the door to reveal-

"y/n! Oh, my dear, how are you?" You're immediately pulled into a crushing embrace and a comforting scent surrounds you.

"Mom?" You gawk, slowly encircling your arms around her to return the hug.

"I know I probably should have called but when I thought about doing it, I was already at your door. And I have to say, this is quite the upgrade!" Your mother wanders in without an invite, in awe of the clean, neat appearance of your apartment.

Well, penthouse. You take up the entire 58th floor at the top of your building. The elevator requires a reading of your house key-card to even press the button. It opens up right in front of your door.

... how did she get up here?

"How on earth did you get up here?" You voice your thoughts as her mother discards her walking shoes beside your own, slipping on a pair of guest slippers.

"I told the man in the lobby I was your mother and you would not believe the convincing I had to do to get him to let me up. He even needed my ID!"

"Well, yeah, because you don't live here-"

"Would you look at this place! My god, y/n, how do you keep it so clean? Not a speck of dust!" Your mother, true to her nature, swipes a finger across a nearby decorative table and it comes up absolutely spotless.

"Thanks, I mean it's not-"

"You even have a foyer! And a kitchen that doesn't double as the dining room!" Your mother wanders into the next room faster than you can process her presence.

"Mom, what are-" You try to best to follow her, slipping and sliding over the wooden floors in your fluffy socks.

"Really, y/n, I never pegged you to like modern furniture! I thought you liked a little character in your possessions. But, I must say, it's much better than I imagined your living situation to be." She strolls into the living room next, gawking at the mere size.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" You frown, relieved that she seems to have finally picked a room to settle in. She sets her enormous bag on the sofa.

"What are you even doing here? Not that I don't appreciate the surprise visit..." You save quickly, smiling sheepishly at the glare she briefly sends your way.

"I wanted to see you of course. But..." She digs through her purse and pulls out a Macbook. "I came for an explanation for this." She all but waves it around. You wince.

"Careful. Why do you need an explanation for that? You mentioned you needed a better laptop and your birthday was coming up so I thought-"

"Exactly! It's perfect, it's everything I could have ever dreamed of in a laptop!" Your mother scolds. You tilt your head.

"... is that a problem?" You blink owlishly.

"First it was the watch for your father's birthday, then the mountain of stuffed animals for your little sister for Christmas, and now this!" Your mother sighs, crossing her arms after setting the Macbook on the coffee table.

"Wha- I'm sorry, I think I'm missing what the fuss is about. I tell you guys to send me your lists and you never do, so I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted-"

"It is what we wanted, that's why I'm here!" She retaliates.

"Okay, Mom, you're going to have to calm down and tell me what the problem is because I am clearly missing something here." You lead her to the coffee table, where you both lower yourselves to the floor, cross your legs, and sit beneath it.

She takes a deep, calming breath, "I'm just concerned is all. Your last job was enough for you to live and have a fair amount of money to spare, but you don't even work there anymore." Your mother places both hands on the table, avoiding your eye.

"You're right, I don't work for them anymore." You quirk a brow, curious as to where this is going.

"And now you're an online tutor who barely works more than a few hours per day, sometimes a week! So... I'm just curious..." She sighs, shaking her head.

"How are you getting the money for all of this? This is a multimillion dollar penthouse, you sent your father a 7,000 dollar watch, and you sent me a laptop worth at least a few thousand dollars." Your mother finally meets your eyes.

Before you can respond, she reaches across the table and grabs you by the shoulders.

"Just tell me the truth. Are you selling drugs? Are you stripping? Are you doing drugs? Because whatever it is, I'm sure I can talk my way into gaining your innocence in a courtroom but you have to come clean-"

"Mom! I'm not doing anything illegal!" You exclaim adamantly, shrugging her grip off your shoulders.

"Are you in credit card debt? Your father warned you about things like this, and I always thought you were a modest spender but-"

"Mom, listen to me, okay? I'm not in debt. I'm not stripping. I'm not doing drugs." You take both of her hands in yours and speak calmly. She nods, still looking a little confused.

"Then how are you getting all of the money for this?" She asks.

You chew your lip, "Well... it's not really my money-"

Just as you begin your explanation, the front door opens and shuts loudly, the sound of dress shoes click loudly against the wooden floors.

"Honey, there's someone in your house." Your mom steadies herself, reaching for her purse like she's got some sort of weapon.

"Mom? Mom!" You hiss quietly as she starts to get up.

"I'm home, darling! Are you in the living room?"

Your mother blinks at the voice calling from the foyer.

"Yeah, I'm in here!" You reply in a trembling voice, your brain trying to decide whether or not you should greet your boyfriend or calm your mother first.

Before either of you can open your mouths again, the body attached to the voice calling for you appears in the doorway.

Kyoya sheds his blazer, leaving him clad in his button up shirt tucked into his dress pants as he tosses it onto the coat rack beside him.

"I was- oh." Kyoya finally looks up, meeting your eyes first, then the worried, albeit confused, eyes of your mother.

"I'm sorry, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." Kyoya bows politely at the presence of someone unfamiliar to him.

Your mother's instincts cause her to return the bow where she's sitting, still completely lost.

"You're not, darling." You get up from your place at the table to greet him.

Kyoya welcomes you eagerly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, bewildering your mother further, before making eye contact with her again.

"This must be your mother. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. l/n. I've heard so much about you." Kyoya bows once more, a bit more deeply.

Your mother blinks, eyes glancing between you and Kyoya with haste.

"Mom, this is Kyoya Ootori... my boyfriend." You allow Kyoya to place a respectful arm around your back.

"Your what?" She blurts. You grimace. You knew you'd have to tell her sooner or later, but most of your high school boyfriends were intimidated by her and her doting nature.

And the fact that your father threatened to end their lives if they ever laid a finger on you.

"My boyfriend..." You sigh, almost like a scolded child.

"Ah, that reminds me. A flower for you, my dear." Kyoya sets down the shopping bag he was holding and his briefcase, handing you a rose.

"Oh, it's so pretty. Thank you." You'd rather Kyoya brought you individual flowers than an expensive bouquet since you're god-awful at keeping them alive. You peck his cheek.

"Oh, and before I forget. I saw this in a store window on my way home and I couldn't help but imagine how well it would paired with that black dress you know I like so much. I thought you could wear it to dinner." Kyoya pulls out a large, black velvet box from the shopping bag and turns toward you.

"Kyoya, we've talked about this-"

"I know. You don't like when I spend money on you but I just couldn't help myself." He opens the box to reveal a necklace glittering with diamonds, more than you can count. It glimmers in the light and you're afraid to even touch it, let alone wear it.

"Oh, my god, this must have cost a fortune." Your jaw goes slack. Your mother nosily peers over your shoulder and gasps loudly.

"It's worth nothing if you aren't wearing it." Kyoya smiles. A pretty pink hue dusts your cheeks at the compliment as your heart flutters.

"Thank you, my love. It's breathtaking." You gently take the box from him so he can gather his own things.

"Would your mother like to join us for dinner? I'm sure they won't mind moving us to a different table." Kyoya inquires innocently.

Your mother in question is still completely baffled by all of this.

"So... so you're dating my daughter? And... you're rich?" Your mother blurts.

"Mom!" You scold.

Kyoya chuckles, "I'm under the impression you hadn't been told about me. My apologies."

"Kyoya!" You scold him next.

"And... and this is... your house?" Your mother gestures to your surroundings.

"Yes, ma'am." Kyoya nods affirmatively.

"I moved in about... I want to say two months ago or so." You shrug. Kyoya nods.

"And how long have you been dating exactly?" She quirks a brow.

You nearly cringe at your answer, "... a year."

"A YEAR?" Your mother all but shrieks, earning a wince from you.

"Mom, it's not a big deal-" You reach for her to calm her down.

"It is a big deal! You've been seeing this gorgeous man with a mansion behind my back!" She gestures wildly to Kyoya, who blinks at her, brows raised at her reaction.

"Not behind your back! You never asked!" You insist.

"That's because you swore off men in high school after that boy stood you up-"

"WE don't have to talk about that." You want to shove your hands over her mouth. Kyoya quirks a brow quietly from behind you.

You sigh, "I met him while I was a secretary. He owns a portion of his father's company and was scheduled to meet with my boss."

That's the only thing you're thankful to that secretary position for. Your boss had buzzed for you to prepare two cups of tea for him and his guest. Once you brought them their tea, your attention was stolen by the man sitting across from your superior. Luckily, you didn't drop any of the china on your way in once you caught sight of him. After Kyoya was finished meeting with your boss, he struck up a light conversation with you that had your heart soaring. Simply basking in his beauty and powerful nature made you swoon.

Kyoya returned to your boss's office far more often than he ever needed to after his first interaction with you. He appeared at your desk, asking for your boss when these types of things could have definitely been handled over the phone. At first he didn't understand why he did it, but he soon realized his feelings for you when he caught himself asking you to dinner on his way out one day.

"I still don't understand why you didn't tell me you were dating this man. Let alone living with him." Your mother finally calms down enough to have your heart aching with guilt.

"I meant to, Mom, but I just... I guess I was afraid of how you'd react." You admit finally, fidgeting with your fingers.

"Kyoya helps me pay for you gifts because I want the best for you. But honestly, he can get you much nicer things than I pick out... I'm pretty sure he can buy you a house." You mutter your last sentence.

Your mother laughs, "If my daughter likes him, I like him. Come here, Kyoya." She strides forward and pulls Kyoya down for a tight embrace.

Kyoya nearly chokes, clearly rendered speechless by her sudden show of affection. He manages to reciprocate despite his shock.

"Thank you. I can assure you, I only want the best for your daughter. I'm sorry we haven't met sooner." Kyoya grins.

He has contemplated reaching out to your mother by himself despite your adamant disapproval. But he hated the idea of going behind your back to do anything at all, so he kept to himself.

"It's alright, dear. I'd love to get to know you better. Are you sure I wouldn't be a bother at dinner?" Your mother returns to the woman you know and love.

"Not at all." You shake your head, a wide grin spreading to your lips.

"I'll call the the driver, tell him to bring around the SUV rather than the Benz." Kyoya pulls out his cellphone.

"A driver?" Your mother gasps, placing a hand over her chest and glancing to you for confirmation. You nod, biting your lip eagerly.

Once Kyoya's sent the short message, your mother slots herself beside him and curls her arm around his.

"So, Kyoya, you own your father's company?" The two of them walk in the direction of your shared bedroom, side by side. You watch as they leave you standing in the living room.

"Just a portion of it, yes. We're in the medical business, you see, managing hospitals and..." Kyoya's voice fades off into the house. He doesn't seem to mind your mother's sudden attention in the slightest, even switching his jacket to his other arm to accommodate her like the gentleman he is.

You purse your lips, glancing down once more to the velvet box in your hands and you're reminded that you need to start getting ready for dinner. You follow them, rolling your eyes as you hear your mother start to ask about just how well Kyoya's been treating you.

This is going to be the longest dinner of your life.

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mulloey · 8 months ago

Text

the promotion • wooyoung

wooyoung is your rival for a promotion at work, and you’d both do anything to get it

inspired by the devil wears prada.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: office!au, coworker!wooyoung, bosses!seonghwa and hongjoong. bisexual characters, implied switch!wooyoung, workplace rivalry. hate sex, let’s-see-who’s-really-better-sex, semi-public sex (nightclub bathroom), some spanks, some dirty talk, honestly mild for me but still pretty filthy

—————

From the day you started working here, Wooyoung’s been your nemesis. And that’s not an exaggeration — he said so himself, the very first time you walked through the doors to your shared office, clutching your bags and books and essential items and desperately trying to make it to your desk without dropping anything.

“Hi,” you’d said to him, still breathless as you introduced yourself.

He looked up from the desk, narrow eyes piercing through the silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He’d looked you up and down, pursing his lips before letting out a huff, rolling his eyes. “I’m Wooyoung,” he’d said. “And I’m next in line for the promotion. So until I get it you can consider me your enemy.”

It hadn’t taken you long to find out what he’d meant — as the two junior executive assistants to Kim Hongjoong, editor of Vogue Korea and the most powerful man in fashion, you were both on equal footing and of equal importance to Hongjoong. Or at least you would be, were his senior executive assistant, a severe but relatively friendly man named Seonghwa, not leaving his post at the end of the season month — ostensibly to take an editorial position at a rival magazine; though, if Wooyoung and his circle of gossips were to be believed, perhaps due in no small part to his alleged liaisons with the boss. Whatever, you thought, that’s not important — what’s important is the big, gaping, well-paid hole that would be left by Seonghwa’s absence; one that could potentially lead to a position on the editorial board itself. Just like it had for Hongjoong.

Common-sense would, of course, dictate the promotion go to Wooyoung — he’d been here longer and had certainly shown himself to be far more dedicated to the magazine than you, only really here for the work experience, could ever pretend to be. But your work ethic and efficency was something to be reckoned with; and the boss himself, tight-lipped and not at all fond of gossip, had refused to commit either way and, when he’d overheard Wooyoung bragging to a secretary that the job was basically his, had given him a scolding in his office that was so loud it permeated through the closed doors and, you must admit, gave you a great deal of satisfaction. And if Wooyoung hadn’t despised you before, your inability to hide your satisfied smirk as he’d trudged sheepishly back to his desk, certainly gave him reason too. “I’ll kill you,” he’d mouthed in your direction.

“I’ll kill you first,” you’d mouthed back.

In the months since that incident, the area outside Hongjoong’s office, piled with papers and drafts and clip-outs strewn across the two face-to-face desks, the tension has been palpable. Wooyoung refuses to talk to you about anything except work, and you’ve had little desire to change that — from the work-related conversations you have had, you’ve found him to be a bratty, snooty, thoroughly unpleasant person to be around. The only people he doesn’t talk down to are, of course, Seonghwa and Hongjoong themselves, and much to your annoyance, it’s clear they have a soft spot for him; it’s the only explanation for why he hasn’t been fired or demoted after all the times he’s disrespected the CEOs, designers and other editors that pass by his desk. You scoff just thinking about it but you admit you see where they’re coming from — Wooyoung, while unpleasant, is the kind of unpleasant that makes you want to kiss his cheeks as much as throw him through the window. And you can’t deny, he’s attractive in a sultry, magical kind of way, and probably takes better care of himself than you do. His face would be utterly magnificent if only it weren’t wearing a sneer all the time.

Today he’s outdone himself — it’s the day of Seonghwa’s leaving party, the same party where Hongjoong will apparently pull one of you aside and tell you you’ve been promited; ever-dramatic, you’ve found your boss can be. The day of the party and you’ve somehow found yourself without any information or invite. You doubt you’d have even known a party was happening had one of the secretaries not asked you what you were going to wear to it and you’d looked at her with utter confusion. She’d rolled her eyes, clearly realising what had happened; “Ask me who’s organising it,” she’d whispered, and you didn’t need to do so to get the answer — you just had to follow her gaze as it wandered over to Wooyoung’s desk, where he was hard at work looking through some papers.

As she pranced away, declaring it the end of her lunch break, you’d scowled over at Wooyoung — part of you wanted to march over and confront him, but you didn’t want to make a scene. And hey, he’d put a wonderful scheme in place to ensure you looked like a no-show and thereby excluded yourself from consideration for a promotion — he deserved a few more hours of thinking it had been successful. You’d break the news to him at the party, right before Hongjoong whisked you away for your promotion — yes, you wanted it now despite knowing Wooyoung was more deserving. You wanted to beat him.

Pulling up to the club written on the invitation your secretary friend had grabbed for you, you hear the music and chatter of the attendees even before it comes into view. You step out the car, invitation in hand and dressed to impress — you have to be, if you’re going to fit it in here — as you approach the security. You hand them the invitation and your ID, letting them scrutinise you — you look rather young, admittedly — before they nod, allowing you in.

You’re not a club person, never have been — it’s too noisy and crowded and messy for you to have any fun and it’s not like the company on the dance floor is much better — but you must admit, Wooyoung’s done a good job. It’s a classy set up; even the bartenders are clad in formal, butler-like attire that, you note with a giggle, they look utterly incensed to be wearing. No expense has been spared, apparently, certainly not according to the chapagmes listed on the menu handed to you as you walk in — all exquisite and all on-the-house.

You take a few minutes to mingle, circling between the attendees who you’re of varying familiarity with. Seonghwa greets you with a smile, noting your get-up with an appreciative whistle; Hongjoong, too, seems to look at you with almost hungry eyes. That bodes well, you think. Even as you walk away, not wanting to intrude on the conversation they then strike up with another senior editor, you feel their eyes fixed on your retreating form. You’d feel embarrassed and flustered, perhaps even want to do something about it, were you not here as a professional — one with a motive at that. You’re here to get promoted and finally beat Wooyoung, and if you can do that without causing a scandal in the process, it will make your victory even sweeter.

You find Wooyoung pretty quickly after that; though he apparently finds you first, as you’ve barely registered his presence before his hands are on your waist, yanking you towards him in what a stranger may mistake as friendliness. You know better though — he’s mad.

“Who let you in?” He snaps. “How did you even find out about this?”

“Security,” you say. You hold up your invitation, dangling it in his face almost mockingly — no, you may as well be honest here: completely mockingly. “Ahyoung gave this to me.”

“Meddler,” you hear him mutter. You notice his eyes fixed on your dress and with good reason; gold and shimmering, it hugs your curves perfectly and illuminates you in a way you’ve never shown yourself before — certainly not in the office. “You’re wearing that,” he says. You swear he must be drawing blood from how hard he’s biting his lip.

“Yes, Wooyoung,” you say. “I’m wearing that.”

He swallows, and you feel his discomfort as he stares you down. You look good, and you both know it. It’s going to be really, really hard for him to screw you over now — just as you intended. “It looks good,” he says. “Even on you.”

“Drink with me,” you say. He cocks an eyebrow at the change of subject, perhaps expecting you to bite back or get offended by his words; but you’re in the lead now and you want to celebrate. “Come on,” you say.

You grab his wrist, ignoring the pained sound he makes at your tight grip — he deserves that, after the way he’s treated you. Reaching the bar you order five shots of vodka, more than enough to get you where you need to be. True to Wooyoung, he orders six — always needing to outdo you at every turn. You down each of them together, feeling yourself get looser and less inhibited as the bitter alcohol pours down your throat. “Fuck!” You both yell as you finish your last one. You laugh at the coincidence and he smiles too; the first smile he’s ever given to you. It fills you with a strange warmth that the alcohol can’t entirely explain away.

“More?” You ask, gesturing towards the vodka bottle still tantalisingly close on the top of the bar.

Wooyoung chuckles. “As much as I’d love to see you embarrass yourself tonight,” he says, “and believe me, I’d love it, I think we’ve both had enough.”

“I’m fine,” you reply, shaking your head.

He tilts his head, amused smile on his lips. “I know you are. I have something else in mind.”

—————

You’re not entirely sure how you get here; one minute you’re at the bar with Wooyoung and the next you’re on the dancefloor, hands wrapped tightly around each other's hips as you move to the pounding beats of the music. You’ve discovered now that Wooyoung is, annoyingly, an incredible dancer; his moves are fluid and effortless and entirely in contrast to the intense, scrutinising stare he fixes on you. You try to match his movements but to your chagrin you can’t keep up; he’s a natural.

You feel eyes on you and see you’ve caught the attention of a few of the other attendees, including your bosses, who watch you bemusedly as you dance with your arch-nemesis, the man you’d sworn to destroy — who’d sworn to destroy you. They don’t look surprised, much to your annoyance, and converse with each other with knowing smiles. Huffing, you turn back to Wooyoung, who apparently no longer has any desire to keep his gaze from your chest. Looking down you see your breasts are raised and glistening with sweat, and it’s no wonder he looks so affected. You chuckle; this wasn’t a particular part of your plan, but it could certainly be useful. If you can keep his attention on you — well, on those — you can direct your attention elsewhere, and finally take the winning shot you’ve been gearing for all night. You smile; you’re not as easily distracted as you seem. You came here with a mission and it’s not one a few shots or Wooyoung’s admittedly flustering attention can derail. You’re a winner. You’re going to win.

You lean in closer, letting your lips ghost across his neck in a deliberate, fleeting touch as you raise yourself up to whisper in his ear. “You’re not very subtle, are you?” You say, but above the music it’s more of a yell.

He blushes, an annoyingly cute sight, and shakes his head. “Neither are you,” he says. “I don’t believe for a second you had that dress laying around.”

“Of course I didn’t,” you laugh. “Checked it out of the archives as soon as I found out about your secret party.”

“I invited you,” he says, but his eyes say he knows you know he’s lying. “Perhaps it got lost in the mail.”

You laugh out loud; the alcohol makes it so you have to lie your head on his shoulder to steady yourself. You don’t read into it — but you hope he does. “I’ve heard a lot of stuff gets lost between your desk and mine,” you say. “Briefings, memos… invitations. Lucky I found out, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he replies, and with his gaze still fixed on your chest you get the feeling that this time he’s being genuine.

You him, staring him up and down for a moment as you consider your plan. There’s an easy way out of this — keep distracting him until you can find a moment to speak to Hongjoong, show him why you’d be the best pick in more ways than one. Or you could go the other — riskier, certainly. But the rewards? Oh, the rewards…

And that is how you end up here; this time not for reasons you can excuse or blame on Wooyoung. The bathroom door slams shut behind you as you pull each other in. He locks it carefully, checking it truly is sealed before turning to you, hunger in his eyes — and success in yours.

“Take off my dress,” you say.

He opens his mouth, taken aback. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “I couldn’t have been more clear, Wooyoung. Take off my dress.”

“O…kay,” he says, sounding uncertain. In the lights of the bathroom he’s not very clear, but you see the flush on his face as his shaking hands slowly peel the tight fabric away from your body. When it finally drops to the floor, pooling around your black heels, he gapes; your black, lacy lingerie is a welcome surprise, covering everything and nothing at the same time. “Wow,” he breathes.

“You like it?” You ask, trying to sound unsure — trying to sound modest. Even though you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Of course.”

“Then take yours off, too,” you smile. “We’ll see who really deserves that promotion.”

“What does that have to do with this?” He asks — but he’s pulling his clothes off, so he clearly isn’t too bothered about the correlation. “Just because Seonghwa was fucking Hongjoong doesn’t mean we all have to.”

You snort, rolling your eyes until he finally removes his shirt, exposing his surprisingly toned, tanned and glistening abs. Your mouth waters slightly; you lick your lips in anticipation. He snaps his fingers. “Subtlety, please,” he chuckles.

“Fuck off,” you retort. “And I know we don’t have to fuck Hongjoong. But don’t act like you’re not planning on it.”

He stills for a moment; apparently he hadn’t expected you to say that — or to know that. He huffs. “There goes my edge.”

“So it’s true!” Forgetting where you are, your proclamation comes out as a yell, certainly alerting anyone outside to your presence. Wooyoung hisses in surprise and before you register what he’s doing, clamps his hand over your mouth, muffling you. It’s a rushed, thoughtless act — but it goes straight to your pussy.

You stand there silently for a moment, waiting to see if anyone heard you, if anyone’s going to interrupt you. When they don’t he releases you, looking annoyed. “Keep your fucking voice down,” he mutters. “But yes, it’s true. But I wasn’t going to fuck him to get the job, you know.”

“Right,” you say. “Just as part of the job. But you’re forgetting something, aren’t you, Wooyoung?” He cocks an eyebrow, curious as he awaits your answer. You lean into him, breath hot on his neck as you whisper into his ear, making him shiver involuntarily. “I have a hole too.”

His reaction is instantaneous; without a word he spins you around, harshly bending you over the sink. You lank painfully on your chest, a squeak of surprise leaving you as he slaps your ass a little harder than is playful. “Bitch,” he spits, slapping you again. “Fuck, I hate you so much.”

“So do I,” you snap back.

“You’re ruining my life.”

“So are you!”

“I’m ripping your panties.”

You’re about to reply, not having fully processed his words when before you can stop him you hear the painful sound of expensive, intricate fabrics ripping as he tears them apart to expose your ass and pussy. You shout his name indignantly and he silences you with another slap. “Don’t worry, baby,” he purrs. “I’ll buy you an even nicer pair with my new senior assistant salary.”

“Like hell you will,” you grunt. You writhe in his hold, a tantrum more than an actual indication of displeasure and he chuckles.

“You’re right,” he replies. “If you keep this attitude up, I might just let you take the loss. Hold still.”

You hear rustling behind you before wet fingers poke at your hole, making you gasp — his saliva-covered digits work you open quickly and efficiently before he pulls them out and something much bigger replaces them. You whip your head round in momentary panic, and are both relieved and confused to see a condom sat snugly on his dick. “Where did you get that?” You ask.

He shoots a look at you like it’s supposed to be obvious. “I brought it.”

Your jaw drops slightly before you regain your composure. “You planned this?” You ask, a little incredulous; you feel a little cheated, knowing Wooyoung also had plans for this evening.

“No,” he says. “You did.”

You flush, caught but still hopeful; just because he knows your game doesn’t mean you can’t still win it — it’s your game, after all. “Fine,” you huff. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

He snorts, pushing all the way in and adding a sharp, deep thrust for good measure. “God, you’re fucking rude,” he grumbles. “I’m gonna set you so fucking straight before I become your boss.”

“If you do,” you say, but it’s not quite the winning line you’d hoped for because halfway through Wooyoung starts to move, and he does not ease you into it. He’s not massive but fairly big and fuck if he isn’t skilled — you hadn’t expected it, honestly, especially not from someone as petulant and bratty as Wooyoung. You didn’t think he’d have enough experience… giving… to be this good at it.

As the pace continues to speed up you feel yourself losing your mind a little bit — his hand is tight in your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to stare into the mirror in front of you, traitorously revealing the overwhelmed yet blissed-out expression on your face. Just from your eyes Wooyoung can tell you’ve never been this high before — never been pleasured so deeply and thoroughly and you hate the pleasure it undoubtedly fills him with. God, you hate giving him anything — but you apparently have no problem taking. Your cries get louder, moans strangled and screamed as he goes harder and the hand in your hair moves to clamp over your mouth again. “God,” he growls in your ear. “You just can’t keep fucking quiet, can you?”

You try to reply but it comes out as more of a garbled moan, making you flush and he chuckles. “Alright, baby,” he says. “I’m gonna cum now, then we’ll get you cleaned up so we can go get my promotion. How does that sound?”

From around your pleasure your manage to spit out a “fuck off, Wooyoung,” but rather than pissing him off, it makes him coo. Apparently, you are fucking cute to him now.

“Yeah, baby,” he chuckles. “Keep talking like this. You definitely have the high ground now.”

You groan, both in pleasure and anger as his thrusts get less ordered and more frantic, like he’s chasing something — you know exactly what. You gasp, preparing yourself as the pressure of his hand on your mouth increases.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Keep that hole nice and open for me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he comes; apparently it feels so good he has to bite down on your shoulder to stop himself from yelling but you don’t care; not when your own orgasm so quickly follows when he presses a finger to your clit and applies embarrassingly little pressure. He chuckles as you come undone, pulling out of you when you finally collapse and helping you to your feet. “Who’s getting promoted now, do you think?” He grins.

“Fuck,” you groan. “That was so unfair, Wooyoung. You can’t just— do that when I’m trying to get a promotion.”

He snorts, shaking his head at what you admit is audacity on your part. He smiles rather fondly at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “This was your game, sweetheart,” he whispers smugly. “I just played it.”

—————

just a shortish thing that randomly came to me when i was thinking of ideas & also because i havent written any solo wooyoung fics? and i needed to fix that. last without his own fic is jongho but i have a couple things potentially in the works for him. anyway, hope you like this! who u think got promoted?? leave any thoughts and reblog & comment if you liked it! it’s a very big motivator for me. requests are OPEN!

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #dom wooyoung #mulloey writes

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