#i thought switching to a ring would reduce the probability of it falling out. jokes on freaking Me

[justicecaballer]

man with the amount of trouble this piercing has given me i think maybe im just not meant to have a nose ring

[jungshookz]

kiss me at midnight; myg

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; ceo!y/n x secretary!yoongiverse!! sfw!! fluff!! the title says it all!! this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for!! 

➺ wordcount; 8.1k

➺ summary; y/n finally musters up enough courage to tell yoongi about her i-know-i’m-your-boss-but-i-have-non-boss-feelings-for-you feelings. 

➺ what to expect; “careful, secretary min… i might have to give you a raise if you keep sweet-talking me like that.”

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

“let’s see… the decorators are coming at 2, the caterers are coming at 6:30, the DJ is coming at 7…” yoongi reads out loud as he goes down his checklist, “the bartender sent over the special drinks menu which i emailed to you this morning, and- ah, right, the caterers mentioned that they were able to switch the mini hot dogs to sliders instead-”

“oh, that’s great! mini hot dogs just don’t carry the same level of class as teeny little hamburgers…” you narrow your eyes slightly as you clasp your hands in front of your face, tapping your fingers against each other, “what about the chocolate lava cakes?”

“mhm, don’t worry, those are on the menu as well, as per your request,” yoongi pauses, “ah- the people bringing the photo-booths are coming to set them up at 5 - we’ve already cleared out the space for them, so that should be good to go… also, are we putting a limit on photos?”

“a limit?”

“yes, a limit,” yoongi looks up at you and shrugs, “there’s only so much film and it wouldn’t be fair for one person to take ten photos and for another person to not have any at all.”

you immediately scoff before dismissing yoongi with a flick of your wrist, “silly yoongi, you can’t put a limit on fun. just tell them we’re willing to pay for extra film and for one of their workers to hang out at the party and wait until the booths need refilling.”

“there.. is no limit… on fun…” yoongi mutters to himself as he continues to scribble notes down in his notebook, “and… that’s it!” he clicks his pen before tucking it back into his shirt pocket, “pretty much everything has been taken care of. if all goes well, this’ll be a fantastic new year’s eve party.”

“yay!” you throw your hands up into the air before leaning back against your chair with a giggle, “this is so exciting. i love throwing parties!”

“and i love planning parties...” yoongi hums absentmindedly, looking back down at his list, “so i guess we make a pretty good team...”

“teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

“mm.” 

a couple seconds of silence ticks by as you scour through your brain for a new topic of discussion

you could... talk about the weather? 

or maybe ask him what he did over the weekend?

ask him about what he did on christmas day?? 

“so…” you clear your throat, smoothing your skirt down before folding your arms on your desk and leaning forward slightly, “you bringin’ any... hot dates to the party tonight?” 

wow

that was... not an ideal topic of discussion 

also, way to sound like a creep! 

“me?” yoongi glances up at you and tilts his head slightly, “well, i’ll be with you.” he pauses, dark brows knitting together, “did you… want me to bring a date?” he shifts in his seat, “i’m sure i can arrange for someone to accompany me if that’s what you want.”

“no!” your eyes widen and you shake your head quickly, “i mean- no, i was just- you know, i just- usually you have a plus-one that you bring to parties and, like, i’m sure that you probably had other new year’s plans that didn’t involve being at the party your boss is throwing- i’m just saying that perhaps, if you were planning on actually bringing someone, i just wouldn’t want to be a cock-block-” 

you’re cut off (thankfully) when yoongi’s phone suddenly starts to buzz on your desk

he extends his arm and catches it right as it’s about to fall off (which, admittedly, shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but yoongi could be sitting there doing nothing and you’d still find it attractive) 

he holds a finger up pardon himself and you nod before leaning back a little

“hello? …oh, perfect. yes, i can come and pick them up now…” yoongi trails off, sandwiching his phone in between his ear and his shoulder before pushing his sleeve up a little to check the time on his watch, “i can be there in… roughly half an hour? yes. alright. perfect. see you soon.”

he hangs up with a beep before looking back over at you, “sorry about that! your dress and heels are ready for pick-up. what were you saying before my phone went off?”

“hm?” you clear your throat, “oh! uh… nothing. i was just- you know, small talk. but you can go now if you want to- i mean, obviously you need to go and pick up my outfit for tonight so i’ll just let you go-”

“alright, perfect-” yoongi nods and gets up from his seat, “i shouldn’t take too long but if anything comes up, just call me-” 

“yep! you got it, homie-” you shoot finger guns at yoongi before quickly forcing your arms down and shoving both your hands in between your knees so that they won’t do anything like that again 

your face flushes bright red as soon as the door shuts behind yoongi and a quiet groan slips past your lips before you smack your forehead down on your desk 

jesus

that... was rough, to say the least! 

sure, you fumble over your words whenever you talk to yoongi on a regular basis, but it’s never usually this bad... 

what’s gotten into you today?!

maybe it’s just the pre-party jitters! 

“get it together, y/l/n.” you mutter to yourself, patting your cheeks lightly before pulling your laptop towards you and opening it up 

if there’s anyone who can get you get your shit together, it’s hoseok

Y/N Y/L/N (10:12AM): help me

you perk up when hoseok responds almost immediately, your laptop letting out a little ping! from his message

you have half a mind to scold him for not doing work and being on the company’s messaging system but you dO need to talk to him right now so 

Jung Hoseok (10:12AM): What did you do this time

Y/N Y/L/N (10:12AM): nothing!! idk what’s wrong with my mouth today i’ve never called anyone homie in my entire life 

Jung Hoseok (10:13AM): ?

Y/N Y/L/N (10:13AM): you had to be here to understand :-//

Jung Hoseok (10:13AM): Okay well

Jung Hoseok (10:13AM): I don’t know what I’m supposed to say now

Y/N Y/L/N (10:13AM): can you just come to my office because it’s too much to type out

Y/N Y/L/N (10:13AM): and bring me an iced coffee from the vending machine while you’re at it because yoongi left to pick my dress up

Jung Hoseok (10:14AM): Let me get this straight

Jung Hoseok (10:14AM): You want me to stop working and you want me to go to your office so we can gossip about Yoongi

Y/N Y/L/N (10:14AM): gossip sounds bad

Y/N Y/L/N (10:14AM): ‘discuss’ sounds more professional

Jung Hoseok (10:14AM): …

Jung Hoseok (10:15AM): See you in ten minutes lmao

                                     »»————-　♡　————-««

“you asked him if he was planning on bringing a date to the party?!” hoseok laughs, leaning back against the chair before folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head, “wow. what, are you going to help him plan his wedding too?”

“don’t say that!” you groan, rubbing your fingers against your temples in tight circles, “i was just trying to start a conversation… i don’t know...”

“start a conversation? about what? about encouraging yoongi to be with someone who isn’t you?” 

“keep up the attitude and i’ll reduce your lunch break from one hour and fifteen minutes to one hour and fourteen minutes.” you raise a brow in warning, hoseok gawking before wagging a finger at you 

“i’ll report you to HR for abuse of power!” he jokes, his smile faltering when he notices that you still have that mopey, kicked-in-the-gut look on your face, “okay, think about it this way: this party couldn’t have come at a better time, you know? because now you know exactly what you have to do!” 

“huh? oh, right.” you nod slowly, “yeah, of course i know what i have to do at tonight’s party.” you snort, pulling away from your desk and sitting up straight, “but... you know, just to make sure that you know what it is that i have to do, would you mind telling me what exactly we’re saying i have to do?”

“y/n. come on.” hoseok presses his lips together before leaning forward, “what do people usually do at new year’s eve parties?” he asks gently, in that infuriatingly condescending tone that people usually use when they’re talking to children

“people share their new year’s resolutions with each other?” you hum, thinking back to the new year’s eve party you were at last year where you ended up talking to a very friendly bartender about all the plans you had in mind for the new year 

hm

you can’t help but wonder how he’s doing 

“well, yeah, but not quite what i had in mind-” hoseok shakes his head, “what else do they do?”

“they... sing karaoke really loudly?” you frown before letting out a gasp, “oh no! i didn’t think of that! do you think it’s too late to rent a karaoke machi-”   

“wow, i really have to spoon-feed this to you-” hoseok slaps his hands against his thighs before letting out a huff, “a new year’s kiss, y/n. does that ring any bells?”

“oh, right! i forgot about that part,” you chuckle lightly, tilting your head back against the top of your chair to look up at the ceiling, “but what does that have to do with-” you pause, head snapping back down to look at hoseok with wide eyes, “oh, you’re saying that i should- with yoongi- hoseok, i can barely look at yoongi for five seconds without breaking eye contact-” 

“why not?! its new years! you have to have someone to smooch when it’s midnight. even i have someone to kiss!”

“wait, who are you kiss-” 

“and you know what the best part is?” hoseok grins, “you have an excuse to get super drunk tonight! and a drunk y/n is a slightly more confident y/n-”

“oh, i can’t- i can’t ask him, no.” you chuckle nervously, your hands suddenly feeling a little clammy at the thought of asking yoongi to kiss you, “because then he’s going to feel like he has to kiss me because i’m his boss, and the next thing you know, i’m being called up to HR-” 

“you’re overthinking this again, y/n,” hoseok sighs, “don’t forget the fact that i caught him checking you out at the halloween party. you have to admit that he’s slightly interested in you.”

“that’s different!” you argue, your brows furrowing, “i was dressed as a sexy friggin’ bunny, for god’s sake!”

“and tonight, you’ll be dressed as a sexy friggin’ boss! the only difference is that you won’t have a little cotton tail and two bunny ears-”

“i don’t know…”

hoseok rolls his eyes at your doubt and resists the urge to get up and slap you across the face to get you to come to your senses

you can’t expect anything to happen between you and yoongi if you’re not willing to do something about it in the first place

he can’t even list out how many times you guys have had similar conversations that always end in you chickening out and changing your mind

you were supposed to make a move at the halloween party but you ended up bailing on the plan at the last minute and hoseok had to listen to half an hour of you whining about it over the phone 

he adores you but sometimes he just wants to grab you and yell at you for being such a wimp when it comes to yoongi 

“okay, you know what? forget yoongi. i’ll be your new year’s kiss!” hoseok teases, leaning forward before wiggling his eyebrows enticingly, “maybe if people see me canoodling with the boss i’ll finally get the street cred i deserve-”

“you know, i don’t know if i’ve reached that level of desperation quite yet-”

“i’m a great kisser, so it’s your loss...” hoseok kisses his teeth, raising his hands in defense, “anyways, just try not to overthink it. take a deep breath, relax, and hopefully you won’t point any more lame finger guns at yoo-”

“-ooou’re fired!” you stand up and slam your fist down on the desk the moment yoongi steps into the room, hoseok jolting at the sudden announcement, “you are fired, my good sir! you heard me loud and clear!” 

yoongi’s eyes widen slightly and he presses his lips together before stepping aside and lowering his head  

“what the hell are yo-” hoseok glances over his shoulder and it dawns over him when he spots yoongi standing by the door, “oh! oh. uh, okay. yes... i am... devastated...” he clears his throat as he rises from the chair slowly, “please... give me a second chance? i... won’t do it again?” 

you blink, pulling down your blazer slightly before giving him a curt nod

“...okay, but this is your last chance. next time, you’re really fired.” you clear your throat, sitting back down before gesturing towards the door, “you may leave now, mr. jung.” 

yoongi nods in acknowledgement when hoseok walks past him and he waits a couple of seconds before speaking up 

“sorry. i didn’t realize you were busy because the door wasn’t closed all the way.” he smiles sheepishly, raising the garment bag in his hand, “i just wanted to put your dress in the closet for you.” 

“yes! go ahead.” you smile, gesturing towards the closet before sitting back down in your chair 

“by the way, i passed by that breakfast place on the way to the laundromat-” yoongi pauses, glancing over at you on his way to the closet, “you know, the place that makes those BLT bagels you like so much?” 

“ooh, with the spicy mayo and the avocado?”

“mhm-” yoongi smiles, shutting the closet door gently and turning to face you, “they do chocolate chip waffles now and i thought maybe that’d be something you’d be interested in for future breakfasts.” 

“oh, no way!” your eyes widen in excitement, “i’m very interested in chocolate chip waffles for future breakfasts!”

“that’s what i thought.” he chuckles, making his way back towards the doors, “anyway- i’ll be out there if you need me, boss.” 

“mhm!” 

you immediately get up from your chair as soon as yoongi leaves the room 

you told yourself that you were going to wait until tonight but you’ve been thinking about your dress all week and you wanna see it now!! 

“dress, dress, dress-” you murmur to yourself like a maniac, your heels clicking against the floor as you jog over to the closet 

you push down a squeal of excitement after unzipping the garment bag and getting a good look at your outfit for tonight

you spent hours searching for the perfect dress and it was totally worth it now that you’re looking at it  

it’s a navy blue midi-length dress that sort of cinches in at the waist but the skirt itself is relaxed so you don’t need to worry about your legs being constricted 

there’s also a high slit in the skirt which is exciting (you had to shave your legs yesterday which wasn’t as exciting) 

and it’s a long sleeve dress but the sleeves and sheer and billowy but cap around your wrists 

it’s classy but also a little sexy but not like your halloween playboy costume level of sexy

you’re still not sure what possessed you to dress up as a playboy bunny but even you have to admit that that little black dress looked great on you 

you zip the bag back up before pushing it aside to sneak a peek at the suit that yoongi will be wearing to the party 

he asked if he could keep his suit in your closet and obviously you said yes because it’s yoongi 

your eyes light up when you notice something peculiar about his outfit 

it’s navy blue as well!! 

the corners of your mouth lift in a wide grin, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of you and yoongi (unintentionally, but still) wearing matching colours tonight 

heh 

                                    »»————-　♡　————-««

“c’mon, stupid thing...” yoongi frowns to himself as he struggles to tie his tie

he’s been at it for the last ten minutes and it seems like his gummy worm fingers aren’t going to be useful anytime soon 

and it probably doesn’t help that he’s using his phone camera as a mirror instead of going to the bathroom to use the actual mirror

he doesn’t know if it showed this morning but he’s been a nervous wreck all day! 

he practically zipped out of your office as soon as he had the chance to and he just hopes that you’re not suspecting anything 

it’s just that as each day goes by, he gets more and more conflicted over what to do about his feelings for you 

this wasn’t supposed to happen!

when he first realized that you liked him, he was flattered and admittedly it was a nice stroke to his ego knowing that his boss was interested in him, but he didn’t know it’d turn into this 

he didn’t know he’d end up liking you back 

this is a disaster! 

he’s not supposed to like you back!

he already tried forcing himself to stop liking you but if anything it’s made things worse

he thought your schoolgirl crush was sweet at first and then one day he found your poor excuse of asking him to stay after hours to help you re-organize your pens was cute and ever since then it’s gone downhill 

like the other day when he was eating lunch with you - you took the paper sleeve that holds the chopsticks and you folded it into a makeshift chopstick rest and gave it to him to use and,,. he’d have to be crazy to not find that wildly endearing

yoongi lets out a huff and leans back against his chair as he looks at himself on his phone screen 

“good going, moron.” he grumbles to himself before lifting his hand and flipping himself off, “you and your feelings.”

of course, it’s not technically a... bad thing that he likes you back, right? 

...but what’s everyone going to think?

he knows that he’s on the list of people getting the christmas bonus (because he helped you type it out) but what if people think he just slept his way to the money?? 

oh, god

that’s not who he is!

this is too much to think about right now 

he just had this suit pressed and he’s not about to ruin it by nervously sweating in it 

he’s just going to enjoy this party with you and then deal with his feelings later!  

future yoongi can handle it

present yoongi is just going to enjoy the ride B-) 

“whatcha up to?” 

“-!” yoongi jumps and scrambles up from his seat when he hears your voice all of a sudden, “y/n! sorry, i didn’t hear you come out of... your... office...” he trails off, voice softening slightly as he takes in how beautiful you look in your dress 

obviously he already knew what you were going to wear because he was the one who picked up your outfit from the dry cleaner’s but... it’s a different experience actually seeing you in it 

beautiful 

there’s really no other way to describe it

you look... beautiful. 

“i don’t know why on earth you’re wearing a tie to a party.” you snort, eyes flicking down to the tie hanging loosely around his neck, “this isn’t a business meeting, yoongi.” (you decided it’d be best to take hoseok’s advice. no overthinking - just relaxing! and it seems to be going well...) 

“oh.” yoongi snaps himself out of his daze before shaking his head, “i… i don’t know why, either. i guess i’m just used to wearing a tie.”

“well, i say ditch it - you know, let loose a little! it’s new year’s eve, after all.” 

before yoongi even knows it, you’re stepping towards him and sliding the tie from his neck in one swift movement before tossing it onto his desk

ᵒ ᵍᵒᵈ

you even smell pretty 

he freezes when you reach up to undo a couple of buttons on his shirt, his hands gripping the edge of his desk so tightly that his knuckles are stark white 

“there we go!” you smile, fixing yoongi’s collar before nodding to yourself, “much better. also, do you think you can help me with my heels? i put them on already but the little buckles are flimsy and i can’t do them because of my nails.” you raise both your hands before wiggling your fingers 

“mhm, of course.” yoongi steps aside and gestures towards his chair, “take a seat and i’ll take care of them for you.”

yoongi’s chair squeaks slightly as you sit down on it and you make a mental note to get him a new one 

...maybe you should get everyone in the office new chairs to make your crush on yoongi less obvious

hm

lots to think about

“so, do you think anyone’s going to have fun tonight?” you ask quietly, leaning back against the chair, “i’m nervous.” 

“i’m sure everyone’s going to have fun, y/n,” yoongi lowers himself onto the ground so that he’s down on one knee before raising your leg so that your foot is pressed against his chest, “they get free food, free alcohol, and there are fun 2021 party hats and stupid 2021 glasses to match. what’s not to love?”

“me. i’m the part they don’t love.” you snort, propping your elbow up on yoongi’s desk before leaning against your fist, “i’m gonna take one step onto the rooftop and immediately ruin the party somehow. i bet the dj will stop playing music and his records will make that awkward scratchy sound.”

“don’t be so harsh on yourself…” yoongi scolds, tucking the thin strap into the buckle and giving it a little tug to make sure it’s nice and secure before lowering your foot gently, “besides, if anyone looks at you weirdly, i can just call security and have them escorted out of the party.” he tuts, smiling up at you as he lifts your other foot 

“ooh. careful, secretary min… i might have to give you a raise if you keep sweet-talking me like that.” you joke, pushing the ball of your foot gently against yoongi’s chest teasingly

“oh, yeah? i wouldn’t be opposed to that, boss…” the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a side smirk as he slips the other strap into place, “alright, there we go! heels are nice and secure.”

he gets up from the ground, dusting his knee off before extending his hand to help you get up from his chair, “ready?” 

“as ready as i’ll ever be...” you reach for his hand only to pause, your nose scrunching slightly as you pull away, “i don’t know. let’s think this through. do we have to go to the party?”

“well, you are the host.” yoongi points out, “and i planned the whole thing! do you know how hard it was to arrange for a karaoke machine on new year’s eve?” he frowns playfully, “you can’t bail on me like this.” 

“i guess...” 

“listen- whenever you want to leave, just let me know and i’ll grab the entire plate of sliders, a crisp bottle of champagne, and then we’ll head back down here to eat, drink, and watch the fireworks from your office window.” yoongi tilts his head, his hand still out for you to take, “deal?” 

“...throw in the chocolate lava cakes as well and we have a deal.” 

                                   »»————-　♡　————-««

“wow! you really outdid yourself, yoongi.” you nod in approval as you look around, “look at this place!” 

you never even knew the rooftop had the ability to look like some trendy upscale bar that sells cocktails for $30 each 

“hey, if this secretary thing doesn’t work out, maybe i could become a party planner.” yoongi jokes, lifting his glass up with a smile

“you know, i really think you could.” you clink your glass against his before taking a sip of the bubbly champagne, “by the way, you don’t have to hang out with me all night. you’re allowed to go and mingle with your coworkers.” 

“i know.” yoongi hums before his nose scrunches slightly, “but every time i talk to them, they’re always gossiping about something and i think gossiping is unproductive.” 

“wha-” you gawk, your lashes fluttering, “you’re telling me that you’ve had access to juicy office gossip this whole time and not once have i ever heard any of it??”

“i mean...” 

“you have to tell me something. i’ll take anything!” 

you grin excitedly when yoongi gestures for you to come in closer 

“jungkook and tzuyu had sex on the photocopier by the supplies room.” he blurts out quickly, clearing his throat before taking a sip of his own champagne, “but you didn’t hear it from me!”

“they- what?!” you gasp in shock, jaw practically dropping to the floor, “they did?? during work??”

“no, it was after work!” yoongi shakes his head, “i think you had a meeting across town that night which is why we weren’t here... otherwise we... probably would’ve heard it but- it’s on the CCTV security cameras and everything. of course, since the photocopier is kind of out of frame, you can only see their lower halves-”

“well, then how do you know it was jungkook and tzuyu??” 

“their shoes! and jungkook’s socks. he’s the only one who wears bright purple rubber-duckie socks to work.” 

the two of you turn to look at jungkook across the rooftop and you blink before looking back over at yoongi with a pout 

“that’s my favourite photocopier.” you mutter, “i hope they didn’t get any... fluids inside of it-”

“gross! why would it be inside of the machine?!”

“i don’t know! people go crazy during sex sometimes!” you raise your hands in defense before clearing your throat quietly, “okay, but seriously, i feel like having vigorous sex on a piece of office equipment is definitely violating something so i might have to bring them in for a little chat-”

“ooh, can i be there when you scold them?” 

“absolutely-”  

“miss y/n?” you jump in surprise when someone taps your shoulder gently from behind

you glance over your shoulder to see joy before smiling politely, turning around fully to face her, “joy! what’s up?”

“i’d like to talk to you about something, if that’s alright - do you have a moment?” 

“oh! um, of course-” you pause, turning to hand yoongi your glass, “let’s head over there for some privacy. what’s on your mind?” 

“it’s just... you know, regarding past comments i may or may not have made about you-” she chuckles uneasily, “seeing as you still have to figure out who’s getting christmas bonuses this year, i thought that-” 

yoongi bites back a grin when you turn back to look at him with pleading eyes and he shrugs helplessly before raising his own glass at you and downing the rest of the champagne 

                                  »»————-　♡　————-««

yoongi’s never been a huge fan of parties mainly because he’d much rather enjoy a bottle of champagne and full-sized burgers in the comfort of his own home 

he really only started going to parties once you became CEO of the company and he wasn’t left with a choice because he was worried that you’d fire him if he didn’t attend any of these festive celebrations 

he likes to think that you’ve opened him up to new experiences, helping him become a better human being overall 

:-) 

“hey!” yoongi chokes on his tiny burger patty when someone gives his back a hearty slap, “i’ve been looking for you everywhere! i have a bone to pick with you, min yoongi.”

yoongi’s brows furrow in confusion when it’s hoseok that plops down on the bar stool next to him 

“what-” yoongi swallows his bite before giving his chest a couple of pats to help get the masticated chunks of meat down smoother, “what did i do??” 

hoseok opens his mouth to say something before pausing, eyes flickering to the side as he reconsiders what he’s about to say 

he’s a little tipsy thanks to the open bar so he didn’t really think this decision through but he’s here now so it’s a little late to back out 

you explicitly asked him not to meddle but he feels like if he doesn’t do anything, then you’ll never do anything and you’ll just go to the grave keeping your feelings for yoongi a secret 

does this count as meddling? 

he just has to find a way to steer the conversation towards the topic of you and yoongi and romance 

this might be meddling, now that he’s thinking about it

...

it’s fine! 

he’ll do it in such a subtle way that yoongi won’t even notice! 

“it’s not something that you’ve done. it’s something that you haven’t done.” hoseok clears his throat, narrowing his eyes at yoongi suspiciously, “do you like y/n? because she likes you.”

(not very subtle, but hoseok never likes to beat around the bush.) 

“woah-” yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise and he lets out a nervous chuckle before looking around, “ha, i- um- where did you get that idea from?” 

“you didn’t deny it.” hoseok grins in success, “so you do?” 

“i...” yoongi pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek before he lets out a huff and his shoulders droop in defeat, “yeah. yeah, i do. ...but what does that have to do with you?” 

“oh, it has everything to do with me!” hoseok chirps, clapping his hands together excitedly, “i’m here to give you advice!” 

“yeah, okay,” yoongi immediately scoffs and rolls his eyes as he turns back to pick up his drink, “no offense, but i don’t think i should be getting advice from the guy who was almost fired today-”

“oh, please, i wasn’t getting fired when you walked in.” hoseok raises a brow, “we were talking about you before you barged in so y/n obviously panicked and changed the subject to make it look like she wasn’t going all goo-goo-ga-ga over you-” 

“what? you were- y/n was talking about me?” yoongi perks up, his interest in the conversation suddenly reigniting, “really?” 

“she’s always talking about you,” hoseok points out, “don’t get me wrong - i love going to her office to talk about you instead of doing my work, but it’s exhausting! which is part of the reason as to why i’m willing to give you advice to get this show on the road.” 

“i don’t need advice, though.” 

“of course you need advice. if one of you finally made a move, i wouldn’t need to give you advice, but here i am.” hoseok gestures to himself before shrugging, “so... what’s wrong with you?”

yoongi scoffs in offense

that’s a little ruDE

“what’s wrong with me?”

“yeah. why haven’t you made a move yet if you like y/n back?” hoseok emphasizes as a reminder that this crush goes two ways and that yoongi can be blamed for the lack of action just as much as you 

“because... i can’t! it’s not that easy, man.” yoongi shakes his head, “i can’t just ask her out. she’s... like... she’s miss y/n.” 

“yes. and the sky is blue.” hoseok frowns, “i’m sorry, what’s the problem?” 

“she’s the boss!” yoongi snaps, glaring over at hoseok, “she’s our boss!”

“exactly! she’s the boss! if you’re going to date someone in the office, it might as well be the person signing off everyone’s paycheques at the end of each month-” 

“but you can’t- the rules!”

“what rules??”

“there are no rules! that’s why i’m so confused! i’m used to rules! that’s how the world works in my head! what the hell am i supposed to do now? go rogue?! i’ve never gone rogue before!”

“oh, god, who do you think you are? some secret agent? all you’re doing is asking someone out-”

“i can’t date y/n-” 

“give me a legitimate reason as to why you can’t date y/n.”

“i’ll be penalized!” 

“who’s going to penalize you?!”

“the boss of our boss!” 

“please!” hoseok groans loudly, throwing his head back in frustration, “you don’t think he’s goofed around with any of his secretaries?”

“okay, but this isn’t me goofing around with y/n, this is me... being serious with y/n!” yoongi presses his lips together, unsure of what to say next, “yeah. i wanna be serious with y/n.” 

“i promise you that no one cares about relationships as long as work is handed in on time and bags of money are being made.” hoseok hums, gesturing for the bartender to fix up another drink for him 

having this conversation about you with yoongi is just as exhausting as having this conversation about yoongi with you 

...

he doesn’t know if that sentence made any sense but all this alcohol is making the words jumble up together 

“well, okay, but-” yoongi chuckles nervously, turning and setting his glass down on the bar countertop, “then we’d have to make a file with HR declaring the status of our relationship, and then we’d have to talk about whether or not we want to keep things private or let the whole office know- oh, god, and what if it doesn’t work out? what if we break up? it’d be embarrassing after having declared our love for each other in front of everyone! and favouritism! don’t even get me started on favouritism! people are going to bag on y/n if they find out that i’m on the list of people getting a bonus! ...but, in my defense, even if we weren’t together i would probably still be on that list because i’m hardworking-” 

“yoongi-” hoseok interrupts, slapping both his hands down on his shoulders before letting out a sigh, “do you like y/n?” 

“yes.” yoongi answers without missing a beat, “i like y/n. a lot.” 

“okay. then that’s all that matters, right?” 

yoongi opens his mouth to respond but he pauses

huh 

that... is a fair point... 

it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks about his relationship with you 

what is it about alcohol that makes some people so wise?

“do you know what kind of a person you’d be if you just repressed your feelings and pretended that they didn’t exist at all? a coward, that’s what you’d be. because y/n is a fantastic woman and you need to hurry up and make a damn move before she realises she’s wasting her time on you and moves on to someone else who isn’t afraid to show their true feelings for her.” hoseok shakes his head gently before pulling away from yoongi with a nonchalant shrug and a snort, “but, you know - i’m drunk as hell and i’ve had nothing to eat so all the things coming out of my mouth righ’now could be complete and utter bullshit!” he hiccups, giggling to himself, “who knows!”

“well… what do you suggest i do?”

“what else do you do at a new year’s eve party?” hoseok’s head flops to the side, the over consumption of nothing but champagne suddenly hitting him like a brick wall 

“…share new year’s resolutions?”

“wha- god, you guys are truly the perfect pair- no, dumbass, you kiiissss someone at midnight.” hoseok slurs, “you already know she’s into you. and now i know that you’re into her so she’s definitely not going to oppose giving you a big ol smooch!”

“well, it’s-” yoongi pulls his sleeve up to check his watch, anxiety bubbling in his stomach when he realizes there are exactly twelve minutes to midnight, “oh, god.” 

okay

that’s fine!

it’s fine, he can work with twelve minutes!

all he has to do is 1) find you, 2) start a casual conversation, 3) somehow transition the casual conversation into a not so casual conversation about his feelings for you, 4) transition from the not so casual conversation to asking if you’d like to be his new year’s kiss, 5)- 

“i can’t pull this off in twelve minutes. i don’t know how i’m going to do this!” yoongi swallows thickly, turning to look at hoseok (who’s starting to doze off), “how the hell am i going to do this??” 

hoseok picks himself up off the counter, turning to face yoongi before a wide smile spreads on his face and a little gasp of excitement slips past his lips, “hey! i’ve been looking for you everywhere. i have a bone to pick with you, min yoongi-” 

“okay, buddy-” yoongi quickly reaches out to keep hoseok from toppling over, “you’ve definitely had one too many-” 

                                  »»————-　♡　————-««

ding!

yoongi steps off the elevator with a huff, quickly checking the time on his watch for the millionth time tonight 

he spent two minutes running around the rooftop like a headless chicken in case you were still up there somewhere 

luckily jungkook told him that he saw you leave the rooftop and there’s really only one other place that you’d be 

he makes his way down the hallway towards the double doors of your office, smiling in success when he sees that one of the doors is slightly ajar 

bingo! 

maybe it’s because he’s now confident about his true feelings for you, but he feels like there’s a spring in his step right now! 

(it could also be because of the liquid courage, but that’s neither here nor there.)

he pushes the door open a little to stick his face in, giving himself a mental high five as he sees you leaning against your desk with a flute of champagne in your hand, staring out the window 

“hey!” yoongi clears his throat, knocking on the door gently, “there you are.”

“hm?” you turn to glance over your shoulder, “oh, yoongi! yeah, hey.” 

“i didn’t realize you’d disappeared... i would’ve brought the sliders with me if i knew you were in here.” he jokes, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, “everything okay?”

“ah, well. maybe next time.” you smile stiffly, turning away from him to look back out, “yeah, everything’s fine. joy practically talked my ear off up there so i just felt like i needed to get away from the party for a little while.” 

“you know, the fireworks are starting soon...” yoongi points out as he makes his way over to you, “you’re probably going to get better pictures of them up there than down here in your office.” 

“yeah, i know… but it’s also going to be very loud up on the rooftop and i’d prefer to start the new year off with working eardrums.” your nose wrinkles as you let out a chuckle, “also, i…”

“what?”

“i… i don’t know, i just don’t really want to start the new year awkwardly standing in the middle while everyone else is getting new year’s kisses.” you reach up to scratch the back of your neck before chuckling awkwardly, “that… makes me sound like a very bitter single person and i swear it wasn’t supposed to come off that way-” 

“no, i totally get it.” yoongi shakes his head as he wipes his hands on the side of his pants, “as a matter of fact, i kind of wanted to talk to you about something-”

“hold on, hold on- before you say anything, i-” you interrupt him, turning to set your glass down, “i, um- i have something that i wanna say to you as well. can i go first?”

“oh! yes, okay….” yoongi cowers down a little, pressing his lips together tightly, “is... everything alright?”

“yeah!” you nod quickly before pausing, “i mean, sort of. kind of. i’m… not sure if it’s going to be a good idea or not, but i just want to let you know that if you… you know, if you feel uncomfortable or something after i tell you this, you’re free to pack up and leave, you know? i mean, i actually already have a letter of recommendation written for you so if you wanna go off and work for someone else, i’ve already put in a lot of good words for you-”

“woah, woah-” yoongi raises his hands before letting out a chuckle, “i- while i definitely appreciate the gesture, you know i’m… not planning on going anywhere, right?”

“yeah, well… things change!” you clear your throat, gaze averting as you reach up to scratch the back of your neck, “things... change. i… don’t mean to sound so elementary school about it, but i…” you trail off, the little voice in the back of your head reminding you that this is your last chance to back out and not tell yoongi about your feelings for him

you’ve chickened out more than a handful of times, so what’s going to different about this time around?

you look up at yoongi and he blinks twice before offering you a soft smile, “you…?”

oh 

how are you supposed to back out when he’s looking at you like that?

and maybe it’s just because he looks particularly handsome tonight in his suit or because you’re all riled up on cocktails, but...

“i like you.” you blurt out, trying your best not to cringe or make any faces, “like… in a… romantic? way?”

yoongi’s eyes widen and the smile fades from his face, though you don’t have much time to process whatever reaction that was before he’s speaking up 

“you like me.” yoongi repeats, swallowing thickly before nodding, “in a romantic way.”

“yeah.” you shrug, “and i have for a while, but i just never said or did anything about it because i thought it was inappropriate - you know, because i’m your boss and around the time i started liking you was when we held that seminar for workplace harassment and i didn’t want to make you feel like i was harassing you or creeping on you or anything - a-anyways, at first i thought i was attracted to you solely because you’re hot in that broody, college skater-boyfriend kind of way and i thought it’d go away on its own, but then the feelings never went away, and then i thought that maybe this was just a more serious schoolgirl-type crush that would take time to go away, but then a lot of time went by and it still didn’t go away, so… here we are now, at the end of the year, and i… still have a huge, huge crush on you-”

“-i like you too.” 

“okay, cool, but i’m not done talking about-” you pause, your eyes flickering upwards, “wait, what?” 

“i like you, y/n.” yoongi breathes out with a smile, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “actually, i’ve known for a long time that you liked me and at first i was just flattered and admittedly i was a little cocky about it but then i... actually started to like you one day and- well, i didn’t want to say anything because- woah-!”

yoongi yelps when suddenly a paperweight is hurled in his direction and nearly whacks him in the face, “what the f-”

“are you kidding me, yoongi?!” you snap, slapping your hands down as you glare at him across your desk, “are you kidding me?!” 

“okay, i-i-” yoongi stammers, “i wasn’t expecting this reaction so i’m not entirely sure how i’m supposed to-” 

“you knew that i liked you this entire time-” you groan, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “and you knew that you liked me this entire time... and you didn’t say or do anything about it?!”

“well, why didn’t you do anything about it first?” yoongi exasperates, “you- you’re just as much at fault here as i am!”

“because i-” you laugh lightly in disbelief, “because i thought that if i told you that i liked you, that you would feel pressured into saying that you liked me back because i’m your boss! how would i know if your feelings were genuine or if you were just playing along? of course i couldn’t tell you!” 

yoongi chews on the inside of his cheek anxiously as you let out a huff before stepping away from your desk and heading over to stand by the window again 

“i...” he trails off, bending down to pick up the paperweight before setting it down on your desk gently, “i’m sorry that you... struggled with that... but... i think the important thing is that i do like you, y/n. i genuinely like you, and i was an idiot for not saying anything earlier... i let my doubts get in the way and...” he sighs, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “i’m not good at- i’m not good at dealing with this kind of stuff and usually i just brush it aside and hope the problem goes away but i see you almost every single day so i couldn’t just brush it aside-” 

“yeah, well-” 

both of you freeze up when you suddenly hear the countdown chanting echo from up on the rooftop and yoongi feels his heart plummet to his stomach when he realizes he didn’t even ask if you wanted to be his new year’s kiss 

shit 

shit!

“i’m just-” yoongi shakes his head furiously, “i get nervous when there are no rules and there certainly isn’t a handbook for what to do when you’re attracted to your boss-”

10!

you let out a scoff as you turn to face him, “-and you think there’s a handbook for what to do when you’re attracted to your secretary?!-” 

9!

“i was a total coward for not saying anything sooner and i wish i did! i wish i kissed you at the halloween party!”

8!

“you- you wanted to kiss me at the halloween party?” 

7!

“of course i did, dumbass!” the name slips out of yoongi’s mouth before he even realizes it and he smiles sheepishly when you give him a warning look, “...miss dumbass.”

6!

“anyways,” yoongi coughs, “i-if you’re still interested, i’d really like to kiss you tonight if that’s okay-” 

5!

“wait, did hoseok put you up to this?” you narrow your eyes in suspicion before pointing to yourself, “because he told me to ask you to kiss me tonight-”

“yeah, he put me up to this because we both know that you certainly weren’t going to make the first move-”

4!

“how dare you?” you scoff, crossing your arms stubbornly, “i could make the first move if i really wanted to-” 

3!

“what?! that’s bullsh- oh my god, can we agree now to kiss first and then argue about this later?!” yoongi snaps, eyes full of panic at the thought of not making it on time, “please??” 

2!

“fine, but-” 

1- HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

you don’t get a chance to say anything else before yoongi swoops in swiftly to lean in and kiss you, warm hands quickly reaching up to cup either sides of your face 

the sound of people cheering and fireworks going off in the sky is nothing compared to the erratic thumping of your heart and the high-pitched ringing in your ears 

oh, wow

your lashes flutter as you feel yourself relax, your fists uncurling against yoongi so that your hands rest on his chest

you can feel his rapid heartbeat through his shirt and that’s all the confirmation you need to know that yoongi really, truly likes you back 

yoongi’s hands leave your face so that he can reach down to grasp your hips and pull you towards him, only for his arms to snake around your waist a second later 

your hands slide up his chest before your arms wrap loosely around his neck, feeling as though nothing else matters except what’s happening right now 

you’ve dreamt about this moment for so long but it’s so much better than you could’ve possibly imagined it to be 

and you’re not sure if it’s the copious amount of champagne that you consumed tonight but you just feel so warm inside 

yoongi pulls away (far too soon for your liking), his eyes lidded and hazy as he smiles fondly down at you, “happy new year, boss.”

you can’t fight back the wide grin on your face when he leans down to nudge his nose against yours, both of your hearts undoubtedly beating in time   

“happy new year, secretary min.”

❄️christmas with cee 2020 masterlist 🎄

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

[obscureoperations]

And for the world record of asks, this person is back again. I’m just a huge sucker for your stories, I’m sorry bro 🤧🖤

When you have time and you feel like it why not try doing something like Martin’s s/o is a soldier and she just came home from, as my uncle said it, ‘Nam? So let’s say Martin is really excited since she’d been gone off and on for a couple years and a lot the final year it was all going on. He was getting ready to go to the air port but was working the last couple minutes of his shift. Then like a bus or something pulls up and she gets out and waits for him outside the shop. And he just kinda notices she’s like stoic and shell shocked so he tries his hardest to let her know he’s there and cares about her. I know that’s way too detailed but I’m a romantic fool for war reunitings like that. Also I apologize for the time shift lol. Hope you’re well, don’t feel like you have to write it 🖤

Ohh man, three decades later...

I really loved this ask, I thought it was really sweet<3 but apparently, I have to offer some sort of disclaimer.

I know nothing about war. I never wanted to be a solider. The closest I've got is an uncle who participated. I know nothing about Nam other than the textbooks-- and I'm not making light of anyone that died on either front. Let me just write the thing please... with no disrespect.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of your voice was etched into his brain, it was one of the few things that helped him fall asleep. He read the letters every day, the weeks were pretty much a blur. All filler days until Wednesday came and you had the opportunity to call him. There was so much he wanted to tell you, but he had no idea where to start. He just wanted to listen to your voice, you seemed excited at times-- almost exaggeratedly so. He just wanted to hold you. He refused to look at the news. He couldn’t imagine you immersed in such destruction. He only skimmed through the articles in fear that he might find your name in bold print in the very back.

Despite the situation, Martin was extremely proud of you. Your bravery, the sheer commitment to your country. You always said that you were going to enlist... so it didn’t matter whether or not you were drafted. For the longest, he figured you were joking. There was no way he could Imagine you, over there. Surrounded by chaos and destruction--and death. But, you were never more sure of anything in your entire life. He heard all the stories about your father,and his numerous accomplishments and accolades from war. The way your eyes would light up whenever you talked about him. He knew that you were about to live out your dream.

You were extremely serious about your training, you always had been. He was left in awe of your sheer athleticism. Even before you even mentioned your interest in enlisting-- you seemed as though you were preparing for something.

The weeks before your departure flew by in a blur. Each moment seemed to slip through his fingers, he wanted to be around you all the time. He tried to take in every detail, from your smile to the freckles on your cheeks. The way sunlight would bounce off your hair, the feel of your hand holding his. There was only time that he actually broke down, he actually begged you not to go. “We.. we can run off somewhere.. They’d never find you. J-just please don’t leave.” The words just seemed to escape, he instantly regretted them as he buried his face against your neck. He tried to control the sobs, but they continued to roll in wave after wave. So forceful, his voice no longer sounded like his own as his fingers grasp aimlessly at the hem of your shirt.

You weren’t phased...you didn’t yell at him for asking you to put off your dream. You began to rock him, gently as your fingers card through his hair “Sweetheart..it’s alright..It's gonna be alright. I wouldn’t leave if I felt any differently.” More muffled sobs, and you hold him tighter. You could faintly hear him mumble “I’m sorry” “It’s okay.” After a while, something seemed to switch over in his brain, you never lied. There was no way that you would leave him forever. You were going to be alright. He was sure of it. Needless to say he ended up ushering you upstairs, to your room. If Cuda wondered anything about him-- that was just too bad. He was adamant on staring with you for the rest of the night.

~~

He shouldn’t be this nervous.. It was the moment he had been anticipating for years. You had been involved for the duration of the War, the Months home seemed so few and far in between. Every time you returned, he promised himself not to get disillusioned. He enjoyed the moments he had with you--but constantly had to remind himself that it was only temporary. Sure, it sounds like an awful way of living--but he refused to let himself become complacent. He didn’t want to pretend that everything was normal, and you were finally here for good. He clung to you all the tighter--seemingly finding fascination in the little things. He appreciated you so much more. The depth of your kindness,all the little things you did to show him your love.

Martin’s hands flew over the register keys in a flurry of motion. If he kept moving, his hands didn’t seem to shake. His stomach was in knots, heartbeat hammering against his ribs. He could still remember the call from yesterday at two thirty in the afternoon. It was a call directly to the store, somehow the ring didn’t sound the same. For some reason, an image of you flashed through his mind and for a moment he wanted to be sick. That was another recurring change since your departure. He was so afraid to pick up the telephone. He was so scared that someday he’d pick up the phone to be met with a stranger informing him of the worst.

He reaches for the receiver only to be met with an empty dial tone. Someone else must have grabbed it. Knowing Martin’s luck, it was probably Him. He did his best to reduce the line, scanning..bagging items in a frenzy. After a while, Cuda Moved to join him behind the counter, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The old Man had been alarmingly nice to him for the past few months. It was almost like when you first went away. Martin refused to leave his room, he’d neglect to come down for breakfast or supper. The old man would bang on the door, before slamming down the tray. “Eat! Nosferatu… I will not have you wither away in my house!” In a way your departure, and Martin’s reaction towards it left him actually human in Cuda’s eyes. He must care about the sanctity of human life just a bit. He cared about you. He tried to keep his insults to a minimum.

“Here… take it!” Cuda shoved the receiver into Martin’s hands.

He wanted to be sick… his vision began to blacken. He was expecting to be met with one of the patrol officer’s voices.

“H.. hello?”

“Baby, it’s over!”

It was you… he was so relieved.

“What?”

He could hear loud jeers from the background, muffled laughter as you spoke in the background.

“It’s over.. It’s finally over! I’m coming home on the next flight.”

From the sounds of it, you were at a pub or something, he could hear the jeers from your fellow soldiers. You seemed so overly happy, nearly frantic. He wanted to hold you so badly.

“Okay… When can I see you?” He tries to keep his voice as calm as possible. You weren’t calm in the least, he could already tell. You were simply trying to amp yourself up.. Attempting to sound excited as possible. His heart ached, just imagining everything that you’ve seen.

“Tomorrow.. Honey. Please meet me at the airport.” and with that, you hung up.

He would meet you there.

~

That night passed in a gray and grainy blur. He couldn't sleep, he kept envisioning your face. He continued to hear massive explosions, the sound of brick collapsing over mortar. Children crying as missiles explode. He had this vision of you huddled in a doorway with one of your fellow men clinging to your arm. He could almost feel your tears seeping into his shirt, Please hold me closer. Your eyes were wide and frantic as you search his face for any form of shelter.

You’re alright...y/n.. Everything’s okay. Just come back to me now

~

Once there was finally a lull in the barrage of customers, Martin found himself staring out the window. This was the day, he couldn’t wait till three thirty. He would be at the airport, eagerly awaiting for you to arrive. It must have been a smudge on the glass, or either his mind was really starting to slip. Directly outside, standing under a billboard for Pepsi cola, he saw a lone figure that eerily resembled you.

“No… couldn’t be. It was only half past noon. “

He steps in closer pretending to wipe off the glass--as he peers in through the window. All color seems to drain from his face, pins and needles. It was you. Poised directly outside the shop, at the bus stop- duffel bag resting at your feet. You looked so tired and thin, he could almost see right through you.

You looked incredibly gaunt, the delicate curves of your cheeks replaced with harsh lines and angles.Your head was tilted towards ground, you were fiddling with some small object in your hand. Martin rushes out in an instant, completely ignoring the older woman that stepped into line. Everything seemed to move in slow motion the second he barged out the door.

The cars honked at him as he darts across the street, it was mere seconds until he was at your side. Grasping at your hands. “ Y/n… love, please look at me!”

You seemed to be in a bit of a trance as you continued to fiddle with the object in hand. From the looks of it, it was a small polished stone. Martin really didn't need to know where it came from or from who. He didn’t stop to question it, all he needed was you. The moment your eyes actually met, his arms immediately moved to your waist. You nearly fainted. Whether from shock dehydration or whatever else-- you found your arms draped across his neck. He carried you inside the shop, past the customers--ignoring Cuda’s stare, all the way into the break room.

The old man’s eyes settled on you, and he decided to keep most of his complaints at bay. He was so tired of watching Martin melancholically wither away at the table. You were home now, and hopefully you'd move him out of his sight.

~

Martin rummaged through the coolers to find ice packs to place along your neck. Digging out fresh pieces of steak to soothe your swollen eyes. You could hear Cuda ranting behind the walls--you glance over to Martin fretting over the deep freezer.

“You know that it was you right?” Your voice was barely a whisper. Martin immediately drops the frozen slabs of beef in his hand, as he scrambles close to your side.

“Me what?” His fingers lightly trace over your arms as he nuzzles in close. After everything, he was not going to cry. Not again. You were actually here. The faint smell of your skin… and your shampoo. The way your right hand immediately entangles in his hair. He missed you so much. He began to tell you all the things that he wanted to say, without the restraints of parchment paper.

He wanted to take care of you. Despite your tightly starched uniform, the pins on your collar digging into his cheek, you were exhausted.. To the truest extent of the word.

You were slouched back against the brick, sitting on top of one of Cuda’s deep freezers. The sight alone reminded him of the beginning of your relationship. He wanted to scoop you up into his arms, only to escape through the back window and sprint back to your place.

But instead, he was finally looking at you, in all of your glory, and completely broken at the same time. He continued to hold you, arms draped across your waist as you murmured...

“The memory of your face..Mar-you've got me through so much. I was never gonna leave you."

[bug-beveridge]

Morning, Pumpkin! NSFW

First fic!

Beetlejuice/female reader.

——————

You were not known to be a heavy sleeper. But with all the tidying around the house you had to do the night before, this was a very well deserved rest.

Beetlejuice was the first to notice your unusually long slumber. Even with the golden morning glow bathing your face, you had not woken. Had not even stirred! Intrigued, he found and studied your sleeping form; the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, your arms folded on top of your stomach, and your delicately parted legs beneath the covers. A sort of voyerism, this was. Perhaps a little creepy? But it ignited ideas in him that should probably not be put into practice. But he’d never gotten the chance (or permission rather) to see you this close up and he definitely thought he deserved to. It’d been months since you two met, months. You were past formalities by now and surely you wouldn’t mind it! Right?

The giddy demon fell to his knees beside you and, ensuring you were still asleep, peeled the covers from your legs with a pair of trembling hands. Trembling in anticipation! And he peeked between them with a squint of intrigue, admiring the gentle outline of your... y’know, against the fabric of your underwear. The slight ‘w’ shape. Many-a-cunt he had seen and yet they still confused him.

It didn’t take long for his desire to take over and so he dove a hand forth to drag your underwear down your knees and off your legs, until it was dangling freely from one of your ankles, therefore granting him with a sight that would serve as masturbation material for the next millennium to come. By now, you were fully awake and fully aware of his ministrations on your body. But you still pretended to be asleep out of sheer interest in where this would lead. He studied your pink flesh, the few curls at the top and, with a trembling hand, even ran a finger across them. Y’know, for the shits.

Beetlejuice, with his beady eyes and now neon red hair, continued to study that place between your legs for what seemed like an eternity. He felt the curvature and the slight dampness of you with needy fingers. The vulnerability of it all consumed him. What was stopping him from taking you right there and then? He was a demon! It wouldn’t even be the worst thing he’d ever done! And yet...

He shook his head, pointed teeth protruding from his mouth as he grasped you sharply by the waist and flipped you over with your ass held in the air. He didn’t care if it woke you up, he was far too desperate now. And with the same urgency as before, he buried his face between your legs, dragging out a long lick across your pink slit with a heavy cackle that enraptured you both.

You gasped at that, clenching a fistful of the covers, and asked, “What are you doing?!”

But of course, you were not against it.

He palmed himself below with his free hand, rubbing the firmness of it through the fabric, even watching as a slightly-green wet patch began to form in time. And still he kept his mouth on you, licking and letting his warm breath loose on your most intimate part.

“What a fuckin’ jackpot!” He laughed, an ugly chuckle leaving him. You peeked her eyes open for a minute when you assumed he was distracted and felt surprised at how red his hair had became. Cute. Until of course, you felt yourself being hoisted up and thrown clumsily onto your front, your backside only inches from his face. You quickly felt a long, soft mass line that region, and as much as you wanted to combat the sensitive feeling, that would probably only spur him on. Not that you were objecting..

”Cut it out, BJ!" You cried out with a giggle, trying to wiggle your hips away from the attention of his tongue, but that only seemed to make him even more committed. Perhaps that was enough for you to feel generous and grant him what he so desperately wanted. "Man up and put it in, won't you?" You spoke, a hand reaching between your bodies and grabbing his length tight, tugging and leading it to your entrance. He seemed pretty dumbfounded at that.

“What, you’ve been begging me all this time and now that you’ve got it, you’re acting confused?”

His behaviour changed like a switch in response. If this were a cartoon, you were sure you’d see his pupils taking the shape of hearts. He quite literally pounced on top of you and you huffed at all his weight being dropped at once, but it wasnt anything you couldn’t handle. Especially since you felt a prodding beneath. He tried to enter you once, without avail, twice, and it took a painful push at the wrong hole for you to sigh and take matters into your own hands. Once guided to the right place, Beetlejuice gave out a noticeably long thrust of his hips which sent you halfway to the Netherworld. He wasn’t particularly long but he was generously girthy and filled you in all the right places. You were surprised it even fit!

Ecstatic, you threw your head back in a combination of pain and pleasure, seeing stars and yet there was a burning ache within, an ache that was reduced to a small pinch and even faded with the next couple of pounds. Beetlejuice, on the other hand, seemed to be loving it. There was a quick array of emotions on his face, switching from pleased to concentrated to simply gone.

“Yer’ a fuckin’ wild card, god,” and he slapped both hands on your hips. Soon after, he began to quite literally hump you with very poor skill, both arms folded behind his head, in the air, in the form of a relaxed slouch, simply enjoying your effort with a smirk on his face. For a demon who’s been dead for a millennia, you’d expect him to know how to play a woman like an instrument by now. Apparently not.

“All for me, huh, pumpkin?” He said breathlessly as he began a sloppy, uneven pace, trying to match your gaze but even Beetlejuice himself, in the flesh, was now blushing in your grasp! His hair a hot shade of pink as he pumped you with newly-found ambition, and he even dropped his head on your shoulder. In your ear went the most absurd of moans, ranging from breathless grunts to a... dog, howling? That was Beetlejuice!

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his face close to yours, pressing your lips to his and shoving your tongue past them, until you broke the kiss to whisper in his ear,

"Shut up."

You pushed him back so he was flat on the floor and climbed top of him, unclipping your bra and letting a pair of breasts spring out. Once you’d guided him back in, your hips began at a desperate fashion, up and down, fucking him relentlessly. The combined sounds of your moans and his grunts filled the room, and your cute little face could not possibly show any more emotion. As bad as he was, you had a lot of free time, a LOT of free time.

"Fuck, keep going!" Your hips picked up the pace again, and your body glistened with sweat as you began to chase that sweet release, slowly but surely. A few more rises and falls of your hips and it was in your grasp. His shit-eating smirk did not even falter!

Something akin to electricity rushed through you, and as your hearing was reduced to a bout of ringing, you didn’t know if you were screaming his name or incoherent words. Soon after it came to a still, and yet you were not drained. Simply basking in the afterglow.

"Look me in the eyes when I fuck you, you tool." You spat, grasping his cheeks to make sure he was looking right at you. Still bouncing up and down on him. You wanted to make him as dishevelled as he had done to you. You wanted to see him writhe and convulse with all that you had to offer.

He laughed with his arms sprawled at either side of him, followed by a punctuated moan whenever your hips met his. “I can see all your nose hairs from down here.” He added with a cackle as he set his hands upon her hips again to fuck you as cleanly as he could from below, his own knees giving out slightly and a concentrated look forming on his face. Eventually he threw his head back, defeated, and simply let you do your job. It was difficult to fuck someone when all their weight is on your pelvis!

“Yea, you keep goin’ Y/N, keep going!” He babbled with lidded eyes as jesus personally walked him up the staircase to heaven. Jesus being your cunt. He laughed at that mental joke. “Where d’ya want it?” He spoke, unbuttoning his own shirt so that he, too could expose his breasts just like you had earlier. For the comedic factor. And he wasn’t exactly skinny, so there was definitely some mass there!

“Ten dollars to see and double to touch!”

"They're almost bigger than mine." You pouted, a frown lining your lips until you kept going again, speeding up more, "Anyway, I'm broke!" You giggled, your hands flat on his legs for support and using the curvature of his cock and hips as a guide. To him, seemed pretty good at this. Then again, with all the stuff you can order online nowadays...

You kept going like that for a solid minute, until you noticed from his expressions and uneven pace that he was close. So you got off of him, dropped to your knees and quickly latched your lips around his cock again. this time not holding back, and fitting the whole mass down, tears filling her eyes and gagging, but she did it, got off, and started back at it, sucking and stroking it relentlessly, stimulating the tip with all she could, creating a suction and wrapping her tongue around it, and as he was finally about to burst, she pulled her mouth off and started stroking him manually.

"Make it a lot, Mr Ghost." You said, voice thick with lust, until you felt him throb and empty himself at your command, spurt after spurt of fluorescent seed draping over your hand and rolling down your wrist. He panted, dead and defeated.

Satisfied but in the mood to be a bitch, you lifted your ‘glazed’ hand and wiped it across his gob. He jerked, confused, and you added,

”Please wake me up like that more often.”

[jjaybank]

It Is For Me

Steve Harrington x Reader Requested by Anon:  ‘ Okay so the reader is a part of the group, having been friends with Nancy and Barb. You hated Steve by default since he treated Nancy so badly, but recently you have wound up babysitting together ALL THE TIME. The kids have started to notice feelings/something going on between the two of you and keep on teasing the both of you, forcing some kind of situation haha Fluffy or smutty idccccc u do uu 😝’  Thank u so much for my first Steve request xx Warnings:  I know I asked for smut prompts but it didn’t feel right to make them full on shag in this situ so FLUFF.  So ready to do a smutty part 2 if you want it ;) (I know u do) Words: 1200+

The kids are gathered in your living room playing board games that you don’t claim to understand.  You curl up in an armchair, absorbed in your paperback. Across the room sits Steve; your ex-archnemesis and current co-babysitter to six chaos prone teens.  All of you bare the bruises and scars from your previous dangerous encounter, and exhaustion and grief haunts each face.  Moments like this were cherished by the youngsters, all their friends and their collective ‘mom and dad’ in one place – and safe for now.  Your nose in your book you barely hear a word the others are saying, or who’s joke made Steve laugh like that.  Max sits on the floor closest to you and nudges your leg slightly as she notices you smiling softly as the older boy rolls around on the ground, clutching his sides in pure joy.  You shrug at her and she sticks her tongue out, turning back to the group. Dustin mentioning your name catches your attention.  Your eyes snap up from the page and you realise everyone is staring at you. ‘Um.. can I help?’ you laugh nervously, folding the top corner of the page over and setting your book aside.   Lucas smirks and catches Max’s eye, the two of them share a knowing look.  You turn to Steve for assistance, but he avoids eye contact. Dustin looks around at the group and sighs, realising no one else is going to say a word. ‘We were just talking about how you and Steve should probably confess your feelings for each other, y’know, before it’s too late.  We get into an awful lot of near-death experiences.’ You scoff and look back at Steve who’s still staring a hole into your carpet.  You had had enough of these kids insinuating something was going on between the two of you.  Despite this, a nervous sweat prickles the nape of your neck and unwillingly feel a flush creep over your cheeks. ‘We- well that’s just ridiculous?’ you laugh ‘Steve and I are only just friends, Dust, we’re only here for you guys!’ You look at Steve again he quickly looks away from you.   ‘Sure’ laughs Dustin, ‘keep telling yourself that.’ The kids have quickly grown tired of the conversation as nothing interesting seems to be coming from it, and they all regather around their Dungeons and Dragons set.  Mike coughs over the awkward silence that ensues and begins loudly explaining the rules for El’s benefit.     ~ You lean against the kitchen counter, waiting for your toast to pop.  Dustin’s words ring in your ears and you can’t stop thinking about what he meant.  Feelings.  You laugh out loud at the idea. They wish.  But something flickers slightly in the pit of your stomach as you imagine Steve having feelings for you.   Nerves? Butterflies? You balk at the mere thought.   You place a saucepan of hot chocolate on the stove ‘for the kids’. Steve appears in the doorway, his arms wrapped around himself. ‘Hey’ he murmurs, resting his head against the door frame. You roll your eyes, ‘cheers for the support earlier.’ You let out a laugh, trying to appear carefree.   Steve still doesn’t meet your gaze, instead finding something particularly interesting about the tip of his sock.   ‘Hey!’ you protest, waving your hand in front of his face.  His eyes flicker up to meet yours and you see a sadness somewhere deep inside them.   ‘What if they’re…right.’ You barely make out Steve’s whisper and you search his face for some kind of sign.   ‘Right about what?’ ‘Th-the whole’ he waves his arms in front of him dramatically, ‘feelings thing.’ You stare at him, mouth agape.  The sound of your toast popping from the toaster makes you both jump. You compose yourself and fumble for words, ‘I-er, what?!’   You feel that flickering again and this time it’s stronger, more excited, almost hopeful.  You shake your head of the ridiculousness of the situation. ‘Steve, we’re friends’ you stress, refusing to let yourself get hurt by the boy who screwed over Nancy.   He nods quickly and steps towards you, ‘I know that, and I would ever want to ruin that, but for me-‘ he looks desperately out the small window into the blackness of the cold night, as if searching for help with what to say next, ‘for me there is something.’   Your heart skips a beat.   His hands run manically through his hair, causing it to stand up on end more than you thought possible.   One of the kids cheers loudly from the living room, you hear Dustin screeching about cheaters.   He was so good with those kids, not that he had a choice, it was more like they adopted him than the other way around.   When you were all together it was like some bizarre family, and those moments filled you with a happiness you’d never felt before. Steve’s presence made you calm and jittery all at the same time.  When he caught your eye over the ‘controlled’ chaos of the teens and flashed you his classic King Steve smile, you couldn’t deny that your heart began to glow.  When faced with monsters and Demons, there was no one you’d rather have by your side -and holding your hand- than Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.   It’s like a switch flicks in your brain and suddenly everything you’ve been repressing regarding Steve comes flooding into view.   You needed to hear him say it before you could let yourself accept your own feelings for him.   Steve is searching your face for a response. You open your mouth to give him an answer but he cuts over you. ‘L-look, I get that this isn’t it for you – fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m so sorry (Y/N), please just forget this whole conversation – you’re right, we’re friends!’   Steve fumbles over his words, running a hand over his face.  Evidence of his time as the Russians prisoner is still visible all over his face, and you reach out a hand to gently run your thumb over the newly healed scar on his lower lip.  He looks at you inquisitively but doesn’t move away.   You gingerly take a step towards him, reducing the space between you to mere millimetres. ‘It is for me’ you smile, looking up at his puzzled face. ‘Wh-what?’ ‘This.  You.  It’s for me.’ The expression that crosses his face can only be described as relief.  You stretch up on your tiptoes and gingerly close the distance.   His lips are warm and soft and home. He smiles against your mouth and his hands find your face, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones.  He pulls you into a more passionate kiss, tangling his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck.   He pulls away briefly, ‘you’re sure?’ You nod eagerly, a pit of passion building in your abdomen.  You’d never felt this feeling before – not like this, not this intensely. The feeling of his tongue against yours makes your brain buzz.  He’s a drug and you can’t help but drink him in. You twist your hands into his hair and grin at the moan that falls into your mouth.  Steve has you pressed against the fridge when you hear footsteps in the hallway.   You practically dive away from each other and you’re smoothing out your hair when Max and Lucas enter the kitchen.  They look between you in confusion. ‘Um…hot chocolate?’ Lucas asks, ‘we’ve been waiting ages, what the hell have you guys been doing in here?’ ‘Ugh, Lucas don’t ask that I don’t need details!’ Max winces and rolls her eyes at the sheepish glace you and Steve share.   ____ If you want a part 2 where the kids catch Steve and (Y/N) in the act hit me upppp xx

[ironidemic]

Killing Time: Part I

March 25, 1987

Wendy treaded down the center of the vacant road, avoiding the pools of light shining from street lamps as if they would burn her skin. Each breath she took came out as a short gasp, and despite her efforts, she couldn’t stop shivering in the cool night air. It was three o’clock in the morning and she traveled alone, the soul waking occupant of this dark, hazy realm, so different in the absence of daylight. Wind cut through the soaked black sweater hanging over her thin frame three sizes too big, and the mini skirt and layered fishnet tights which she wore with it provided no additional warmth. She rubbed her arms and walked faster, her heart pounding against her ribcage with a frantic beat that betrayed a fear that her stony eyes would never admit.

They had agreed not to speak of what happened at the river that night. There was no going back, no returning to that time when this was all just a sick game. They were tied to this path, and a final sacrifice had to be made. The thought made Wendy want to burst off running, to find refuge somewhere far away from everything she knew, but she held firm, maintaining an even pace. Only a guilty person would run through the streets this late at night.

The dim houses lining the block looked even more identical in the darkness, silhouettes of two-level family homes with neat little gardens and tacky brown shutters. Wendy resented the sight. Everything felt so plastic and manufactured, making her feel both alienated and trapped in this picture of the cookie-cutter american dream. Thinking of her mother, she lit a cigarette, hiding the ember beneath a shaking hand. Her parents swore that they would never tolerate smoking from any child of theirs, though they themselves had been tobacco addicts since their teens. Wendy made a habit of doing this whenever they weren’t around, her own private retaliation to their hypocrisy. The majority of her rebellions were far less subtle, from the way that she dressed to the outlandish backcombed hairstyles that made made her mother cringe, but it was nice to have something secret, something that was hers and hers alone. It was a last laugh, no matter how many times she got kicked out of the house, no matter how many screaming arguments she lost with her father, forcing her to retreat to her room in defeat. Wendy blew a few smoke rings, a new trick that Steve had taught her in the school parking lot, before crushing the still burning cigarette underfoot.

    Smoke still burned in her throat when Wendy paced up the driveway, scaling the flimsy chain-link fence that bordered her backyard as quickly and as quietly as she could manage. She jumped down to the other side, landing in the grass on a small square of lawn, the only other greenery a scrubby-looking pine tree that hugged the edge of the plot. Wendy would have liked to wait out here until morning, sitting on the stoop of the porch and watching the handful of stars that dotted the sky, but she knew she had long overstayed her leave. She used a spare key to unlock the back door, and slipped into the kitchen with all the silence of a burglar invading her own home.

The main level was cast in shadow, its furnishings reduced to shapes that shifted and moved with the light. Everything was quiet, peaceful in its state of stillness and monochromatic simplicity, until the muted sound of a cough coming from upstairs brought her back. She raced up the steps, cold sweat clinging to the back of her neck as she crept past the baby’s room and then her parents’, holding her breath for fear that her little brother would awake and cry. The dim glow of a plastic night light illuminated the hall, reflecting off of the dusty frames hanging along the wall. It felt like an eternity before she reached her own bedroom and the door was closed and locked safely behind her. Air came rushing into her lungs, and she waited, expecting to feel some kind of relief, some sense of security in the familiarity. She waited, but the panic only continued writhing and coiling in her chest. How could she possibly feel at ease when the reality was that she wasn’t safe? None of them were.

She didn’t bother changing out of her damp street clothes, she never changed before bed, and besides, she had little chance of falling asleep after all of this. Wendy collapsed onto her unmade bed, cold and exhausted, and switched on the tape player on her nightstand, making sure to turn the volume to the lowest setting. She just needed something to fill the empty space, something to take the silence away. The music played so softly at first that the notes were indistinguishable from the static, just brushy strokes against a rolling blank canvas. A keyboard surfaced from the white noise, ringing and dissonant but melodic all the same, then a simple drum beat cut in, layered over by harsh strums on a guitar. Wendy could just make out the words, sung in a range of low tones and passionate wailing that pulled her in, an unmistakable ebb and flow that drew her into the rhythm.

“Water was running; children were running,

You were running out of time.

Under the mountain, a golden fountain,

Were you praying at the Lares’ shrine?

    But oh, oh your city lies in dust, my friend.”

Wendy slammed the eject button, and the music died out. She rubbed her hands over her face and through her hair, undoubtedly smearing several layers of carefully placed black eye makeup. Of course it had to be Rachel’s tape on tonight of all nights, the one with the names of the tracks written in tiny, looped cursive on the paper label.

1. Cities in Dust- Siouxsie and the Banshees,

2. Atmosphere- Joy Division,

3. She’s in Parties- Bauhaus…

She picked up the cassette and began to rewind it, then stopped, pulling the thin tape until it broke away from its reels, a translucent black ribbon hanging limply from her hand. It was useless now, tainted with Rachel’s memory. Wendy threw the tape across the room, where it landed with a dull clatter of plastic, and buried her face deep into her pillow. She didn’t cry, she didn’t think she knew how to anymore, and all she wanted to do was scream until her throat was raw and there was nothing left inside her chest. It was too much to think of Rachel, with her white-blonde hair and warm brown eyes, the cheerleader who wore a pentagram charm around her neck. All of it led back to the image of her lying face down in the water, completely limp.

    Rachel had never been innocent. She had seen too many things in her drunk father’s home, taken one too many beatings from people who she once thought loved her. You could see it in the way she walked, like nothing that touched her would create friction. She acted unexpectedly for someone so pretty, someone with such influence in high school social politics. No one could quite place her, but she liked it that way; it gave her intrigue, and captivation was power in its own right. She had developed quite the reputation, attracting all manner of scumbags that she called lovers, Rourke being the latest. People called her a slut, a witch, but Rachel was far too sad and disinterested to care. Wendy used to admire that, knowing that despite everything, part of her still existed that was fragile and clean. Maybe the darkness saw that too, maybe that’s why it decided to take Rachel.

    Wendy felt sick, like a knot was being pulled tighter and tighter in her stomach. The early stage of a headache pressed against her temple, and she couldn’t stop trembling. She looked over at the clock, which read 3:48 am. It was then that she realized she had been digging her nails into the flesh of her palms, leaving behind rows of tiny crescent-shaped imprints nearly deep enough to draw blood. Everything was too still, too quiet. If Wendy didn’t do something soon, she was going to drive herself mad.

The group had promised one another to lie low and not make contact until things had quieted down. Rourke had been adamant about covering every track, whispering with a low, threatening edge to his voice as he gave them careful instructions on how to dispose of the evidence. As much as Wendy hated to admit it, Rourke scared her. He was violent and unpredictable, and his eyes were always piercing and brimming with hate for the world. As far as she could tell, Steve wasn't afraid, he was never serious enough to be, but even he would never dare cross Rourke. In spite of that, Wendy was certain that if she called him, Steve would pick up. She picked up the phone beside her bed and dialed quickly, pressing the receiver up to her ear and clenching her fist as it rang, droning on one hollow note between agonizing intervals of silence.

Wendy and Steve were close, they always had been, bonding over a shared sense of defiant apathy and designated freakishness, a black-clad duo, with Wendy in her dramatic makeup and baggy clothes and Steve towering above her in his military boots and spiked deathhawk. The only thing that separated them were their reasons for looking the way that they did; Wendy wanted to disappear, to keep people away, but Steve relished in the attention he attracted. It was for that same reason that he always picked fights, why he shoplifted and smoked in the bathroom at school. He adored being in the man of the hour, sitting back and watching the ruckus he could cause. Wendy couldn’t stand it, but she loved him all the same, like the wisecracking older brother she never had, always there to lighten the mood with a well placed quip or practical joke. Besides, Wendy couldn’t afford to be selective too with who she chose to call friends, being that she didn’t really like many people at all. Rachel and Steve were two of the only people who she didn’t downright hate, and though she was none too fond of Rourke, she had learned to deal with him. She could care less about her parents. They were probably the last people she’d turn to at a time like this.

    “Goddamnit Wen, not everyone has adopted the sleep schedule of a vampire bat, namely everyone else in my apartment building.” Wendy breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of a familiar voice.

“I’m surprised you’re home at this hour.”

“Yeah, I lost my fake ID, so none of the bars downtown would let me in. Fucking bastards,” he laughed sheepishly, then cleared his throat. “Plus after what happened, and that whole speech Rourke gave…” his voice trailed off, “I just had to get out of there.” Wendy swallowed hard and fumbled through her sock drawer for another pack of cigarettes, not caring if the room still smelled like smoke in the morning.

“What the hell are we going to do? I don’t know if I can live with this. It’s all going too far.” Her voice broke. “And God, I never thought that it would take Rachel.”

Steve cursed, and Wendy could hear him beginning to pace the floor, the creaking of floorboards echoing in the background. “Look, I don’t think that there’s anything we can do.” His voice had dropped low, the seriousness in his tone revealing no trace of his normally easy-going demeanor. “Believe me, I’m not happy about it, but you heard Rourke. There’s no going back; we’re in too deep.” Wendy ground her back teeth, tensing every muscle in her body to resist the urge to scream.

“Yeah. I know.” Her voice was monotone, her response clipped and robotic. “When can we finish it?” The words were hot and bitter in her mouth. The thought of giving another offering was unbearable, but at this point she would do anything for it to be over, for everything to return to normal.

“I talked to Rourke after you left. He said we can meet up at the trainyard in a week.” Steve sounded jaded, like he was being stretched too thin. For a moment, Wendy thought he could be crying, but then thought better of it.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

“Yeah. You too.” Steve hung up, leaving Wendy alone with a hollow feeling in her stomach. She leaned her head against the wall, pressed her lips together and exhaled in defeat, feeling isolated in the wake of a conversation that had only confirmed what she already knew, though hearing it reiterated only made her feel more trapped, more condemned. Everything had happened so fast, and now she struggled to piece together all of the scattered fragments of memory into something coherent and interpretable. After a few minutes of thought, Wendy stood and opened a window to let out some of the smoke drifting through the room like a thin grey veil, kicking off her boots and shoving them offhandedly into the corner on her way. Cool air flooded the space, raising goosebumps on her arms and causing her to shiver as she took another drag on her cigarette. On a whim, she began searching through one of her bureau drawers for her walkman, and found it tangled haphazardly in the chord of her favorite pair of headphones. She grabbed an unmarked tape sitting next to it and shut the drawer, returning to peer out the open window. A wave of harsh noise filtered through the headphones as she slipped them over her ears, recognizing the song immediately as “Promised Land” by Skeletal Family. She wanted to disappear into the sounds of guitar and bass, hammering at her eardrums like a thunderous heartbeat, but soon she slipped back into thought, her mind swimming through flashes of images and snippets of conversation, gradually aligning themselves into a vivid nightmare that she knew all too well to be true.

[footbaliimagines]

confession (a whoever-you-want-it-to-be imagine)

this is a sequel to my other imagine, ‘unrequited’ which you can read here.

----

He used to be a confident guy.

The funny one, the loud one, the life of the party with a permanent smile on his face who was always guaranteed to produce a laugh, an assured smile and a witty comment.

(I mean, just ask any of his club’s supporters or watch one of the many ‘top 10 funny moments’ compilations he had featured in, scattered around Youtube with thousands of views and hundreds more comments.)

Not recently, though.

Recently, smiling had become somewhat of a chore.

He had grown accustomed to feeling those familiar face muscles stirring every time he was in her presence, used to laughing and feeling like a giddy thirteen-year-old with his first crush every time she looked at him or he heard her voice, sweet, gentle, like a song he wanted to play on repeat. But now, the realisation of what could be (or perhaps, what couldn’t) was starker than ever and smiling was a forced, enduring, difficult task that was only to be attempted when a camera was thrust in his face or a fan approached him in the streets.

It was foolish and naïve of him to have faith that this time, things would be different. Surely it was far too optimistic for him to believe that meeting a girl that was so perfect for him would happen easily, to believe that things would miraculously change, like a switch had been flicked, and that his romantic life would suddenly be taken over by a director of a shitty rom com.

He probably should have known better, or at least expected something like this was bound to happen. Her fiancé (the word still left a sour taste in his mouth) was 28, after all, 4 years older than her, and had often expressed his desire to settle down and start a family as soon as possible. He was a soppy, sentimental guy, and he couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't want to be her husband.

(In another universe, he would have put money on the inevitability of their engagement had he not been so hideously over invested.)

And, to make matters worse, he can’t for the life of him think of how he was going to tell her. Start things as normal, exchange meaningless, empty small talk, maybe offer a congratulatory hug on the engagement and then shoot her down and ask her to leave her fiancé?

Probably not his finest idea. Back to the drawing board it was.

Maybe he should just tell her flat out. No frills and no embellishments, just a straight-out confession of his feelings and then taking things as they come from then on.

(But he’s nervous, more nervous than he thinks he’s ever been, and he thinks it might be a better idea to ease into things more subtly, dip his toe and then reassess.)

(Then again, one glance at her and his brain would probably turn to mush.)

It's unfair and he wants to curse the world and blame the universe for what they've done and what they’ve put him through. How fucking cruel, how bloody awful, to introduce somebody like her and to tease him with her presence so often only to tug her away at the last moment, right out of his grasp, eliminating any possibility of a chance with her in the future. Dangling her in front of him in a cruel, torturous taunt. 

(A ‘nice-try-you’re-almost-there-but-not-quite’, a ‘you-thought-you’d-be-able-get-into-a-healthy-happy-relationship-that-easily-haha-jokes-on-you’.)

It’s humid outside, and the sunset gives the whole street a warm, pinkish hue. The streets are busy and people are flurrying back and forward and his new shoes are pinching his toes.

He’s at his local florist’s. It’s the week before Valentine’s Day, so there are roses plastered up and down and across the walls and big pink signs displaying ‘3-for-2 on all Valentine’s flowers! Tell the person you love how you feel with one of our handmade, personalised bunches!’ 

He’s about to throw up.

“Engaged doesn’t mean married. Don’t give up.” The florist, a middle-aged woman with paint-stained dungarees and a kind smile, tells him.

He knows she’s not married yet, knows that just because she said yes to a dumb stupid romantic question it doesn’t mean that all roads will be closed off forever (I mean, he spent the better part of 2015 binge watching all 9 seasons of The Office, and is hoping something akin to Jim and Pam will happen for him), but it’s as close to terrible as things could probably be.

Nevertheless, he smiles gratefully at her and opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. It’s like his throat is lined with sandpaper. “Uh, thanks. I, um-“ He stutters, mind whirling and nerves getting the better of him, so much so that even choking out a broken sentence is too difficult of a task.

“Save your words for her, love, not me.” She says humorously, picking up the bouquet she had been assembling and handing it over to him. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

He’s gripping the flowers in his right hand so forcefully that his knuckles are turning white and the stems are at risk of snapping if his grasp tightens any further. In front of her, he’s absolutely undone. 

And her ring, a shiny band adorned with a single, big diamond in the centre is the first (and only) thing he can focus on when she pulls the door open and grins, pulling him in for a hug.

(She smells like roses and their fingers brush when she takes the flowers from him.)

“Hey! Is everything okay?”

He nods quickly, too quickly. “I brought you these.”

“You didn’t have to bring us anything, you know.” She teases, smiling. “Come through to the kitchen, I’ll go and put these in a vase. Should I stick the kettle on?”

He can only smile in response, fearing that if he opened his mouth the words would just refuse to come. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Uh, water will be fine.”

She sticks the kettle on and pours him a glass, hoisting herself up onto a bar stool, swinging her legs and grinning at him. He mirrors her actions. She’s beautiful, and he’s always known it, but now he can’t look at her without having a weird feeling, a mixture of nerves and tension and nausea, swirling in his gut. He’s always been the kind of person to focus on small things and take pleasure in intricate details, but his enchantment with the tiniest things about her elevates things to another, astronomical level. 

“So, what’s up?” She asks.

“Uh, I was wondering if we could have a chat?” He scratches his jaw.

She quirks her eyebrows, but the smile doesn’t leave her face. “Sure. I’m all ears.”

“So, um, engaged?”

As if by instinct, she glances proudly at her ring and a serene smile fixes on her face.

(It makes the thought of causing everything to crash down in front of her even more difficult to stomach.)

“Crazy, right? Can’t believe it myself.”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “Always wanted to get married?”

To his immense surprise, she snorts and shakes her head. “If you’d told 18-year-old me that I’d be engaged at 23 I would have slapped you. Far more interested in jagerbombs and ways to get guys in clubs to buy drinks for me.”

“Hm.”

“I mean, I know he wants to get married soon because he’s quite a few years older than me, and all that. Maybe kids. Well, I think they’re definitely part of his future. But I don’t know.”

She shudders, and only then does it become glaringly obvious that she’s just not right for him. Four years’ age difference is a long time. It meant different goals, different aims, different time frames. All in all, a bad fit.

(He would be a much better match for her.)

“Do you not want that?”

“I don’t know.”.

“Any reason why?”

“No reason. It’s just…weird. The thought of marriage is weird.”

“Weird how?”

“God, are you interrogating me?” She teases, crossing her arms across the chest.

His eyes are darting around the room like wildfire and his face is burning up, unable to settle on her gaze. She feels her face turn hot. “No,” he splutters, humiliated.

She lets out a small, nervous laugh and is just about to reply when the kettle pings. “What did you want to talk about? Wait, no- please don’t ask for the proposal story. I’ve already told my mum twice and all of my female relatives and my girlfriends about sixty-five times. If I have to do it again I think I might commit.”

He forces himself to chuckle, gritting his teeth as he fights back from telling her that��there is nothing he wants to do less than listen to the story of how that ring ended up on her finger. “Hey, um, can I speak to you about something? Properly, I mean?”

“Oh, now I know what this is about.” There’s a glint in her eyes and he cocks his head at her. “Is this about when you want to rematch me at 8 ball pool?”

He lets out a breath and chokes out a stifled laugh. “Because I’m totally up for that. We could do it now, actually, if you wanted to! I just bought a new cue, and since discovering back spin my game has improved drastically, and- ”

“I just…I…”

“Hm?”

It’s like his voice is caught in his throat. “I- I…I’m in love with you.”

Her mouth falls open just a fraction, and he can feel his eyes sting with tears.

It’s been silent for too long, she hasn’t even made eye contact with him yet and he can envision it all in his brain. Rattled off responses of how much she values his friendship, excuses as to why nothing can happen, rehearsed and bullshit cliché sentences about how he has no idea how much of a great friend he is and why she truly hopes they can move past this together.

And he wants to be able to prepare himself, to think of alternatives and solutions in his brain and ways that maybe this won’t end horrifically, but he’s hit a dead end and all he can focus on is everything crashing down in front of him.

(He can’t help but think that there isn’t any way, other than taking her in his arms and kissing her and making everything feel better, that this could end well.)

“What?” Her voice has been reduced to a whisper.

“I just….I can’t go another day without telling you. And I know this is terrible timing and I probably seem like a huge prick but finding out that you were engaged was fucking….fucking- fuck, I can’t even find the word for it. But it was shit, and it made me realise that I need you to know, more than anything. Regardless of the outcome. I just have to tell you.” His voice cracks and his eyes well with tears and she begins to fiddle with that stupid goddamn ring in front of her waist.

She falls silent again, chewing on her bottom lip as he watches her eyes well with tears. A single droplet gathers in the corner of her eye and threatens to fall down her cheek, and it takes all the self-restraint in the world to stop himself from reaching forward to wipe it away.

“Please say something.” He speaks hoarsely.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Something. Anything.”

“Look-“ She begins to speak and he can tell from her tone of voice it’s not going to end well. “You’re a great friend. To me, and to him. And I appreciate you more than you know, I swear, and-“

“I think I should go.”

“You don’t have to leave.” She reaches out to grab his arm and he leaps away from her touch as if being burnt. “Please, stay.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” He says, exasperated. “I just want an answer. Please.”

Her face breaks out into a soft, sad smile, and her eyes are welling with tears. She looks up at him and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Thank you for telling me.”

Her voice and demeanour changes. He drops his voice. “But?”

“I can’t.” She croaks.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Can’t do this.”

He presses, “Do what? Be with me? Talk to me?”

“I can’t marry him.”

He feels his stomach drop.

“I’m really sorry. I think you should leave.”

 --

A.N.: i’m back!!!! finally written and uploaded the (much requested) second part of unrequited!! i really thought i’d be able to wrap everything up in one more piece but i couldn’t fit the above part and the ending (most of which is already written) into one piece and make it seem realistic at the same time if that makes sense. plus I really really really want this series (probably not the right word??) to have a happy ending (it will do, i promise!!!) and I wasn’t sure how to squeeze his feelings about the proposal & him confessing & her breaking it off with her fiancé & a happy ending all in one.

part 3 (jesus christ i’m dragging this on) should be up in the next few days because the bulk of it is already written!!!

(can you see how inspired I was by jim and pam and the office lol….took heavy inspo from pam’s response to jim and what michael said to jim too haha)

please give feedback as always and say hello or send in requests here & have a nosy at my masterlist if you can!!!

millie xxx

[teamrsbd]

BREAKING NEWS: Faunus Protest at the Docks

[The segment on Vytal Festival preparations is cut off as the screen switches back to the local news anchor, Lisa Lavender.]

“Cyril Ian reports to us live from the docks today, where large numbers of Faunus have gathered to protest allegedly dangerous and discriminatory labor practices at Remnant’s top Dust corporations.”

[The screen cuts to a live feed from the docks. Stein Fels Eisengard is standing on the stage, addressing the crowd.]

"Good day to all of you, those who share similar sentiments such as we do. Humans. Faunus. Valeans, Mistraleans, Atlesians and Vacuoans. These words ring to most of us as a form of identity. It delegates one's origins, promotes one's pride to the group they belong in, and brings a sense of belonging with the people associated with them. Yet these words also deliver a sense of divide, especially to two categories that remained the main source of conflict since time immemorial, the oppressors and the oppressed. Again, good day to all of you, the name's Stein Fels Eisengard, Vacuoan Miner and Beacon Student."

[Stein gestures to everyone and bows. The sound from the protest feed lowers in volume as Lisa Lavender resumes talking.]

"Speaking now is one Stein Fels Eisengard, 17, of the renowned Eisengard mining group from Vacuo. The group was one of the region’s top Dust producers, before most members perished in a tragic Dune Worm attack while working as contractors for the Schnee Dust Company. Stein is the only known survivor of the incident.”

[The audio feed from Lisa ceases, and the sound from the protest feed fills in.]

"I was born along the fringes of society, filled with plenty of dangers and perils. More so if one would be born outside of the city, where Grimm would prowl about and sometimes decimate the towns if they'll be left undefended. I was an orphaned Faunus living in a small town outside Vacuo, in the small village of Shady Sands. I lived and survived among the scraps of society, scavenging what I can from trash cans, sleeping behind the alleys of the village, and begging for what kindness they might give. Of course, these acts of kindness should be repaid as much as possible, so I did what I can to pay it back. Soon enough, I found myself doing odd jobs, ranging from a shop caller to a garbage collector. This work that I did was contractual, I never had a permanent workplace to call my own."

[Stein moves around the stage, waving his hands in clearly practiced gestures to emphasize various points of his speech.]

"One winter's week however, when our small village was hit by a destructive ice storm, the first one in decades, food became scarce. To me, that meant no jobs, and soon enough, I was starving to death, since there was also nothing to hunt. Shivering and cold, there was not even a fire I can warm myself up with. But I was not accepting inevitable death, I prepared myself for the worst. I borrowed one of the old saws the town carpenter owned, tied one of my arms tight, and went outside the town. As I was prepared to cut my arm off, a hearty laugh from an old man rang at a distance. Thinking it was my imagination, I continued my act, but just as the teeth of the saw began to bite my flesh, the saw suddenly threw itself backwards."

[A gasp from someone in the crowd. Stein chuckles at the memory.]

"It was then and there I met an old, bulky man, dressed in blue overalls and a leather coat. I would soon to know this man as Gauld, and the words he spoke to me from that moment still rang until today.”

[Stein clears his throat and mimicks a deep, booming voice.] 

"Young pup, if you want to eat your arm off, then you must be desperate. Care to join us an' tell us your story over a cup of hot cocoa?"

[Stein pauses and gives the crowd an enigmatic smile, a mischievous glint in his eye. He switches back to his normal voice.]

"And that storytelling was the one that brought me to meet what I can call my family. Gauld, along with his allies Zilber, Zinn, and Ledd, were miners known collectively as the Eisengard. They said it derived from an ancient language that meant as the Iron Guard, protector of the miners. They were a happy bunch, and when they invited me to be part of their group, I accepted, and it is an honor to be taken in with them. Soon I learned that they were no simple miners, they were the top-notch miners known in Vacuo. They were the ones who take in the jobs no one has ever handled, the ones who can tough out and toil the mines for weeks with meager resources, the ones who can still have a good laugh even at the scarcest supply of food. I aspired to be like them, they were my inspiration."

[As the subject turns to the Eisengards, Stein’s smile grows wider. He gives a small wave to Zinn, who stands a little to the side of the stage. His expression soon hardens as he resumes his speech.]

"However, with this hardiness from the Eisengard came abuse from the unnamed dust company who gave us the jobs. Because they THINK they were the ones feeding us, they THINK they can use the people they THINK they own as tools. I noticed that, slowly and steadily, the Eisengard's jobs became riskier and riskier, the dust mines we had to clear up became more and more infested with Grimm stronger than before. Assignments that were given to them became too risky to bring a rookie with them, so at times, they would only leave me to guard the camp, when they used to bring me in with their work. I also thought that they were invincible, unbreakable and undaunting, I thought that they can still rise from the darkness of the mines unscathed, no matter what challenges they would face. Well, you know what they say: you'll never know -- what you have -- until you lose it--"

[Apparently overcome by emotion, Stein pauses. The smile has faded from his face. He carries on in a more somber tone.]

"Then after some time, we probably hit one of the biggest motherlodes of them all. Dust veins as thick as pillars, caves lined with Dust that go on seemingly endlessly, we thought that it was a way to get our lives better even for a little bit. A little taste of luxury in the hells that has been put through our lives. I felt a disturbance as we slept in our camp that night. A little growling rumble from underneath the ground kept ringing. I had a bad feeling about the mine we're at, and I tried to warn each one of them, pestering them that this is more than what it is for an entire week. Gauld laughed it off like usual and he nagged me for being a scaredy-pup, Zilber joked that it might be his stomach, that grumbles in the night, Ledd helped me meditate, telling me it was a lack of mental training and Zinn thought it was a nightmare and tried to help me out by singing me a lullaby to sleep."

[Stein unknowingly glances into the camera for a brief second. His face is blank, his voice reduced to a monotone. His eyes start brimming with tears.]

"Then it happened. One night, the rumbling kept me awake and I took a stroll out in the woods. The rumbling grew louder, and I know the same reactions that they would take. Knowing I might be bothering them, I decided to take a pass on telling them of the rumbles, seeing that it just might fall on deaf ears. Constant rumbling grew louder and louder in my ears, and soon enough, the ground broke. It howled an ear-piercing shriek, and ravaged the surroundings. I never believed to see this Grimm only known to legends and stories. A Dune Worm. Its gaping mouth stared down upon my team's camp, churning its large teeth as he prepares to eat up the ground. The Grimm suddenly took a dive downwards, and swallowed my sleeping teammates whole.”

[Stein pauses and rubs the tears out of his eyes before they can fall.]

"Enraged by this, I howled at the beautiful full moon that hung upon the ceiling of the night as I stomped and punched the ground in rage. A huge quicksand formed around the Dune Worm, and it cemented itself, rendering it immobile. Then out of nowhere, there was a big explosion from the belly of the worm. Until their their death they tried to protect me. I never had recollection to whatever happened after the explosion, the stress probably caused me to faint. As I woke up, however, I found a purpose, for the voices of the abused be heard and to protect those who can't protect themselves. In respect of my comrades, I adopted the emblem of the Eisengards, a reminder of my purpose and goal. I saw something glint as I was scavenging the remains of our camp. A neatly-enveloped letter, advice that would bring me to where I stand right now."

[Stein draws himself up and clenches his fists. He walks back to the center of the stage.]

"What I realized is the ones in power should be kept in check, as abuses like the ones experienced by us, the Eisengards, still run under the noses of everyone, hidden by shady deals and negotiations. Transparency is needed to know and trace these abuses and stop this unending ordeal. Being kept under the dark for so long, this truth should be known to all, else another bloody war would be knocking once more in everyone’s door. Because if the oppressed become pushed too far -- “

[He looks directly into the crowd, his mouth pressed into a grim line.]

“--they are likely to fight back, like a cornered rat. And like a cornered rat, those people would likely fight to the death."

[Stein gives a sweeping bow.]

"Again, thank you, thank you all for listening to my story."

[The crowd begins to applaud. A loud boom resounds throughout the docks. The camera shakes. Thick smoke fills the screen. One of the nearby Stahl and Schnee freighters has exploded.]