#it's been pretty quiet on the contractions front today

[mademoisellesarcasme]

please pray for @coruscanttojerusalem as he embarks upon a significant interview, and for me as this interview is out of town and includes an overnight, approximately 2.5hrs away, and baby #2 is Still Inside.

[babyleostuff]

── GOING (CRAZY) SEVENTEEN

SYNOPSIS: chan can't help but fall for their new director, no matter how many clauses in the contract prohibit him from doing so

🎵 CLOSE TO YOU - gracie abrams

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, strangers to lovers / idiots to lovers, a whole lot of pining, svt being menaces, attempt at humour 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!chan x fem!gose director!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 4.5k

“you’re going to be the youngest director they’ve ever had.” 

well, that was one way to make you even more nervous. 

you didn’t have to think twice when pledis offered you the job of being a gose director two months ago. of course, you were grateful for all the jobs you’ve managed to get over the past years; they were the ones that helped you kick-start your career and established your name as a pretty well-known director after all, but this - this could be your big break. working for a company as big as pledis, well technically hybe, was a dream come true, and it would look great on your CV.

though you wouldn’t lie - you were scared shitless to meet seventeen. 

they were a big, big group, and if they were as chaotic and loud in real life as they were on camera, then you weren’t sure how you’d survive the next few months. 

especially not with your crush on one of them.

“did you hear we’re getting a new director?” some of the boys raised their heads from where they were laying on the grass, while the rest ignored seungcheol as usual. “she’s going to be here today,” he continued, and flicked hoshi’s forehead to get his attention, “so please be nice, and try to act somewhat normal.”

the boys mumbled something in unison, too tired to talk. as much as they loved shooting gose, doing it after a full day of schedules was a nightmare. they’d much rather be in their beds than laying on the fake grass in a warehouse because it was too late to shoot outside.

“why the hell did they pick a sports concept for today?” seungkwan mumbled with his cheek pressed to the ground. “couldn’t they do like a,” he sighed, “sleeping concept.”

“yeah,” hoshi agreed, his voice just as drowsy as seungkwan’s. “carats would eat that up.”

wonwoo rolled his eyes, and turned his head towards chan so the boys wouldn’t hear him, though they probably wouldn’t have either way considering they were seconds from falling asleep. “if they’ll keep on whining like that i’m literally going to walk out of here,” he groaned, and rubbed his face to wake himself up a bit.

chan couldn’t agree more. he was tired, and hungry, and he was starting to get cold, the loose sleeveless shirt doing nothing to keep him warm, and all he could think about was bed bed bed, so hoshi’s and seungkwan’s whining did not help a single bit.

fifteen minutes later, with half of them asleep, and the rest barely awake, the filming crew started to gather up to set up all of the cameras and microphones, with the rest of the staff placing different props they’d be using all over the warehouse.

chan could feel his eyes drooping for the tenth time in the past few minutes, when he suddenly heard a quiet “uh-oh” over his head. before he could ask a simple „what?”, a sharp pain pierced through his shoulder. 

“i’m so, so sorry. i really didn’t mean to.” 

he exhaled sharply, and put his hand over the small red patch on his skin, that was pulsating from the hit. well, at least he was more awake now. “no worries, my shoulder has been through much worse than getting hit by a… um,” he looked around himself to check what exactly almost crushed his bones, “a medicine ball,” chan let out a strangled laugh. no wonder it felt like a dumbbell fell on his shoulder.  

but then he looked up, and the person standing in front him left him utterly speechless. 

chan wasn’t sure if had fallen asleep or if he was being delusional because of the sleep deprivation, but the girl had to be an angel. in the twenty five years of his life, he had never seen anyone as gorgeous as her, and he was not being dramatic. 

“are you okay?” you asked, and crouched in front of the boy you just managed to almost injure. you said you’d be able to carry all of the medicine balls yourself - clearly that wasn’t true at all.

wait a second… the eyes. the hair. the gorgeously sculpted biceps. you knew him, it was…  no it couldn’t. 

and yet, you found yourself crouching in front of the one and only lee chan. 

you didn’t consider yourself a big fangirl, but you were (obviously) aware of who he was. for some reason whenever you stumbled upon any content of seventeen your eyes were instantly drawn to the short dancer, that despite the lack of height stood out to you the most. and you weren’t going to lie - he was hot as fuck, and he looked so good while danicing that it was almost impossible for you to tear your eyes from him.

and now you almost killed him.

“i’m really, really sorry,” why wasn’t he responding? maybe the ball hit his head after all? what if he was pissed, and they would fire you? “please, say something.”

chan, on the other hand, was completely gone. “god, i must be looking so pathetic right now,” he thought. his band met tens of people on a daily basis - from stylists, interviewers, photographers, makeup artists, stage assistants - whoever you could think of, chan has already met them.

everyone but you.

“um, i’m um,” pull yourself together chan,” i’m cool.”

“i'm cool”?! he wanted to take the medicine ball that just hit his shoulder, and bang his head against it instead, because that had to be the lamest response he could have ever thought of. it wasn’t like the prettiest girl was right in front of him, nope.

“are you sure? do you need me to get someone to check the shoulder for you?”

and now you thought he was being a wuss? oh god, he really screwed up.

“no, no,” chan said quickly, and sat up a bit more straight to look like he had his shit together, when he clearly was not. “i’m fine, really, don’t worry.”

you nodded, though you weren’t sure if you could trust him. his shoulder was still slightly red, but thankfully it didn’t seem like anything was broken. injuring one of the boys would be like the worst way to start your new job. 

„okay, so um,” you pointed in the direction of the cameras, “i have to go.” 

“go?” the words slipped out of chan’s mouth. “loser, loser, loser.”  

“work,” you whispered, your throat suddenly dry. why was the air so stuffy, it was quite perfect just a minute ago. 

„uh, yes, of course,” chan said, matching your breathless tone. 

you took a last, long look at him, and got up to pick up the ball that fell out of your arms.

time to get professional again.

“i’d like you to meet the new director. as you probably know, she is going to be in charge of today’s episode.” 

this had to be the most awkward situation of your life. standing in the middle of a circle of people you barely knew was not an ideal situation, definitely not when it looked like you were about to be sacrificed in a weird kpop idol ritual. also the seventeen boys looked like they’d rather be anywhere else than there, so that in itself made you want to run out of the building. you didn’t know what to do with your hands, or where to look, or if you should say something, and if you should - then what? “what’s up?” “how is everyone doing?” “can you stop staring or i’ll pass out?” 

you figured it couldn’t get any worse than that, if it was officially your humiliation day - then so be it. “hel-,” 

“because we don’t have much time today, let’s just start right away.” 

well, there went your speech. 

you had to be looking like the biggest loser, standing there with a half-opened mouth, and an awkwardly raised hand.

as everyone started to take their places, with the boys gathering in the middle in front of the main camera, your eyes wandered on their own to find the only person that made you feel somewhat comfortable amongst the chaos, which was kind of ironic since you hit him with a ball and exchanged a total of three sentences. unfortunately, you quickly had to push away your thoughts about the boy with dark hair and kind eyes and focus on your work. 

you were sure everyone could hear your heart pounding, as you yelled your first, official “action.”

“dude, why do you keep staring at her like that?” vernon nudged chan’s arm. “you know you look like a total creep, right?” he asked with an amused expression. 

“i’m not staring,” chan said way too quickly for it to be true. his parents were right - he was a terrible liar. 

“uh-hu, sure,” vernon snickered, and shook his head. “then tell me why you’re suddenly so interested in the cameras that you keep gawking that way.” 

chan felt like crying. he was sure he wasn't staring at you that much. right? “i think seungkwan needs a hug, so could you leave me alone?” no one needed to know about his little infatuation with a girl he had just met, and though technically vernon wasn’t the one to walk around spilling people’s secrets, it was still embarrassing. 

“whatever you say,” vernon said, and got back to typing away on his phone. 

the truth was - chan couldn’t keep his eyes away from you. sure, at first the main reason why he paid attention to you was because of how pretty you were, but when the shoot actually started, and you fell into your element - he just couldn’t get over how attractive you looked behind the camera. your face was more often than not covered by the multiple screens from which you monitored the shooting, but from whatever glimpses he could catch - you looked absolutely mesmerising. 

and now he wasn’t talking about your looks, but about your attitude, and confidence, and how you carried yourself. 

“okay, let’s shoot the last scene, and we’re done,” you said, pointing the cameramen to where they should stand to get the perfect shots. 

and again, for what felt like the hundredth time that night, the boys positioned themselves in front of the main camera, with mingyu explaining the rules of the last game. 

“but the twist is, we’re going to have our eyes blindfolded, so we won’t be able to see the football or our opponents,” he said, showing the ball and thirteen blindfolds he was holding in his hand. “we won’t be able to see our teammates either, for that matter,” he added, earning a couple of laughs from the boys. 

after a quick game that you didn’t understand the rules of, they divided themselves into three teams, and started the game. 

for once, everything seemed to go on smoothly, and you figured that nothing would happen if you stepped out from behind the cameras for a moment, and stood aside with the rest of the staff to watch the guys play (or rather fall or bump into each other).

however, there was one thing you didn't see coming. 

somehow, by pure accident, chan managed to get the ball. "guys i have it!" he shouted, and immediately started running in the direction of the goal. or so he thought. 

you couldn't help but laugh quietly. the boy looked so adorably clumsy, kicking that ball like a child who had just learned to walk, and waving his arms as if it would help him with something.

chan, however, overestimated his ability to determine exactly where the goal was, because the moment he kicked the ball to score, everyone suddenly started shouting "stop". 

but it was too late.

he quickly took off the blindfold, and his heart sank when he saw what, or more precisely who, he shot the ball at. “shit,” chan didn't wait for his eyes to adjust to the light, but quickly ran towards you.

“i’m so, so sorry,” he said, looking at your face twisted in pain. “i didn’t mean to, i’m-” 

“i think i heard something similar today,” you laughed, and pressed your hand tighter against the spot where the ball managed to hit you. “it’s not as bad as it looks,” you added, seeing chan’s worried expression. 

“not that bad? i hit you right in the forehead!” 

“no need to make me feel even worse about this,” you sighed, sending him an apologetic look. “i think i’ll grow a second head from this hit.” 

chan groaned, and hid his face in his hands. “i’m a fucking idiot.” 

he hadn’t been on that many dates in his life, but he had never acted… like whatever that was. “i really didn’t mean t-,” but then a thought hit him, “oh my god, what if you have a concussion? or if i damaged something inside your head, or-,” 

“chan, i promise, the inside of my head is fine.” 

chan. oh, the way you said his name. he's never been more grateful for someone to call him by his real name rather than his stage name.

“are you sure?” he asked, worry filling his voice. 

“positive.”

“but please, if, god forbid, your head starts aching, go to the hospital, okay?” 

“i will,” you nodded, gently pulling your hand away from your forehead. chan could see a bruise starting to form, and he swore he had never felt that bad in his whole life. “you can say we’re even now,” you added with a small smile. 

now that he was sure you were relatively okay, he finally breathed a sigh of relief and looked around him to gather his messy thoughts, and that's when he noticed everyone, every single person, looking at the both of you. because of this whole mishap, chan forgot that you were literally surrounded by dozens of people who were now watching you like you were in a shitty sitcom. only the boys' looks were too amused for his taste, and now he was sure that they figured out his little crush that he had on you. 

“good job, brother,” mingyu snickered, when chan went back to the boys. “good job.”

“wake up on monday.” → “go for the shoot.” → “cry because i can’t have her.” → “go home.” → “cry even more.” “repeat.” 

that’s how the past couple months looked for chan. every single week he waited for the day when he could finally get on set and see you again. it was honestly heartbreaking how the only thing he was allowed to do was to greet you with a shy “good morning”, and bid you “goodbye”, but if he did anything else it could look suspicious to others, which he could not risk. still, those moments were the best part of his week. 

when the third month had passed since you came into his life, chan began to regret having met you in the first place. what was the point if he couldn't even ask you out for coffee? you were everything he was missing in his life - and he didn't even know you that well. chan couldn't count how many times he spent his time off stalking your social media to find out more about you, to get to know you better, because he couldn't do it any other way. and each time he felt his feelings turn into something more than just a small, innocent crush.

“you look so miserable right now, it’s almost pathetic,” seungkwan said, eyeing chan from head to toe. “can’t you just like go and talk to her? that would put us out of the misery of seeing you look like a kicked puppy.”

“you know i can’t just do that” chan sighed, looking at you with longing in his eyes. 

“why not?”

“because of our contract? we can’t get close with our staff, you know that,” he said, each word piercing his chest. knowing that you were so close, yet so out of reach was really hard. 

“and you’re going to let that stop you?” seungkwan deadpanned. “seriously. you like her. she obviously likes you,” wait, she did? “so please, just talk to her.” 

obviously he didn’t approach you that day. if, with a big emphasis on if, he finally decided to talk to you, he had to be ready so he wouldn’t look like an idiot like last time. though you probably already thought he was a creep (he liked one of your instagram posts from a couple of years ago by accident), so it couldn’t really get any worse than that. 

but seungkwan said you liked him too, right? 

“ugh, why does it have to be so complicated?” 

“chan,” suddenly he felt a featherlight touch of a hand on his shoulder. wow, no one has ever touched him with such gentleness, “could you stand over there?” 

“huh?” he turned around, just to come face-to-face with the person that made herself at home in his thoughts, and would not leave, no matter how hard he tried pushing her away. chan cleared his throat quickly and straightened his shirt. “where do you want me to stand?” good job, that was smooth. 

you pointed to the marker on the floor next to jun. “just for the beginning, then you can obviously, um,” the way he always left you speechless was starting to piss you off. he always knew what to say, and here you were - as awkward as ever. “you can move around later.”

“what should i say now?” chan thought, his brain panicking. this was his chance to finally say something, but as usual he couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t make him look stupid. “why is she always so well-spoken?” 

in the end chan just lowered his head and waddled over to the marker where he was supposed to stand, giving up at making a move. once again. 

two hours later went by, and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off with chan. he didn’t joke, he didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh even once, and he didn’t really engage in the discussions with the boys. he was just… there. it was eating you alive that you couldn’t do anything. without his spark he looked so tired, like he hadn’t slept for days, and if it was up to you you’d halt the whole thing, and take chan far away from here because seeing him like this was unbearable. key word - if. 

“let’s take a break, guys!” you said, hoping that no one would question why, but you had to get chan out of there, at least for a minute. “uh, chan?” please, just don’t fire me for this. “could you come over here for a second. i, uh,” you should’ve come up with an excuse before you opened your mouth, “i need to fix your mic.” 

“is something wrong with his mic?” one of the staff chimed in, looking between you and the boy. “i can get it fixed.” 

“no!” you said in unison with chan. you bit your lip to hide the smile that was threatening to bloom on your face, and stole a quick glance at him, taking in the blush dusting his cheeks and neck. 

you cleared your throat, and tried to put on your most indifferent expression - you couldn’t blow your cover now. “no, it’s okay, i’ll do it,” okay, okay, we’re almost there, “but can we go outside for a second, i need some fresh air.” 

chan nodded quickly - way too quickly, and followed you through the set towards the door. 

“don’t stay out for too long, lover boy!” seungkwan yelled, and a couple of boys couldn’t help but burst out laughing. you even saw mingyu falling over seokmin’s lap in silent giggles, his whole body shaking. 

if chan was a blushing mess before, he had to be looking like a tomato, now. “i will kill them,” he promised himself. 

“i’m sorry for them,” he said once you made it outside. it struck chan that it was the first time in months that you were finally alone - not a single soul was breathing down his neck, and no stupid bandmates waited for the opportunity to make fun of him. “they are idiots sometimes,” he said, rubbing his arm nervously. 

“it’s okay,” you mumbled, suddenly very self-conscious. maybe you should’ve just stayed inside? what were you thinking? god, this had to be the epitome of your stupidity. “i guess that’s just their love language,” breath girl, breath, “like bullying, you know?” 

“tell me about it,” he snickered, and shook his head. why were his hands shaking so much? “so um, what about the mic?” 

“the mic?” 

“yeah, the mic,” he laughed softly, pointing at the small device. 

“oh, yeah. the mic.” 

it was now or never. 

“look, everything is fine with the mic i just…,” this was so so stupid. “i just wanted to…,” spit. it. out. “you know what, nevermind.” 

you officially hit rock bottom. now chan would not only think you’re lame but stupid, and a creep, because who drags someone out of a building to “fix” their mic just to tell them that the issue never existed in the first place. plus you couldn’t even get a proper sentence out. 

what you didn't know was that chan's heart was beating like crazy. he'd never seen you so nervous, but god - you looked so cute. the way your eyes shyly met his, how your cheeks were adorned by a faint blush, and how you constantly tucked your hair behind your ear even when there was nothing to tuck anymore. 

so seungkwan was right after all - you liked him as well. 

he had to do it. he had to do it now or he would never do it and he would never forgive himself for it for the rest of his life. maybe all he needed to finally confess his feelings to you was the knowledge that you also treated him as more than just someone from work?

“wait,” chan said, and grabbed your wrist as you took a step towards the door, “i need to tell you something,” he loosened his grip, and lightly ran his thumb over your skin. he saw your eyes wander from your joined hands over to his face, and god - he could get lost in them for eternity. “maybe this will be the biggest mistake of my life but i have to tell you this. i understand if you don't feel the same way as me, but," inhale, "i like you. i really, really like you,” he said and laughed because shit - he finally did it, after so many months. 

for a few seconds, there was a deathly silence between you, interrupted only by the sounds from the set, and chan felt as if time had stood still. sure, he was prepared for the possibility that you didn't feel the same way as him, but please please please. he wasn't sure how he would cope if you rejected him.

“i-i,” you stuttered. was this really happening? or was this all just a cruel dream? but the feel of his skin on yours, his gentle hold, the smell of his cologne, his hair blowing in the wind - it all felt so real. “is this some kind of joke?” you managed to mutter.

the corners of the chan's mouth turned down. "a joke? baby, i've never been more serious about anything as i am now," your breath caught in your throat hearing the pet name coming from him, but it seemed like chan didn't even realise he said it.

"do you have any idea how many nights i spent thinking about you? about what makes you laugh, and what makes you cry? i tried to figure out what your favourite food could be, so i could ask you out and take you to the best restaurant. if you prefer sunrises or sunsets, or if you pour the milk or cereal first, and what are your biggest icks and pet peeves. if this is your definition of a joke, then yes, i’m joking."

at this point chan was ranting, but he didn’t care. he needed you to understand how bad down he was for you, and if he had to make the biggest idiot of himself - then so be it. 

“and if this is all a dream then i hope i’ll never wake up, because i can’t imagine my world without you in it,” he said. 

“are you always this dramatic, lee chan?” you mumbled, looking at him with big eyes. so this was real, after all. the boy you spent the last months pining over was just as crazy about you as you were about him. 

chan breathed a sigh of relief, and shook his head. “when it comes to you? yes. i’ll be as dramatic as i have for you to understand how i feel about you.” 

you blinked, still in denial. “what about the contracts?” you asked, and reached out to push back a couple of loose strands of hair from his forehead. 

chan could feel his heart bursting as you slid your hand down from his forehead to cup his cheek, and he immediately nuzzled closer to your touch.“i don’t know, and i don’t care,” he twisted his head to place a gentle peck on your palm, “i don’t want to spend another second on thinking about what it’d feel like to be next to you.” 

one year later…  

“i still can’t believe you made bets on my relationship,” chan groaned, as he plopped beside you on the couch, but before he could make himself comfortable you were already snuggled into his side with an arm draped over his middle. 

“it was the only way for us to have some fun. you both looked so lovesick it was honestly disgusting,” seungkwan pretended to gag, which earned him a kick in his shin from your boyfriend, and a couple of laughs from the rest of the boys.  

“still, you guys are stupid.” 

“not more than you moping around for months,” wonwoo sighed. “talking about a slow burn,” mingyu added. 

“well at least i’ve got a girlfriend,” chan kissed your temple, and cuddled you closer, “and the closest thing to a relationship you have is with your dumbbell.” 

mingyu put his hand over his heart. “ouch,” he said, and wiped a non-existent tear from his cheek. 

it's been a whole year and the guys still loved to joke around about your slow burn of a relationship, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. each day with chan was a blessing, even the boys became such a big part of your life to the point where you couldn’t imagine it without the whole thirteen of them. 

lee chan was like a last missing puzzle piece that you were searching for to become whole. he was your best friend, your rock, your safe place that you’d search for in every crowd. 

“i love you,” you muttered into his neck quietly, so only he could hear. chan’s grip tightened around you for a second. “i love you too. so much.”

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[sugurouge]

— yes, my lady : sebastian michaelis x f!reader

content warnings! reader is a descendant of the phantomhive family, power imbalance (master/servant) but also (human/demon), somewhat monsterfucking if you squint (i wanted to make use of his ‘true form’ a little), smut, size difference, manhandling, praise, pet names (my lady, darling, dear), orgasm control, sacrilege, a tiny bit of blood, topics of loneliness

summary: after another tiresome day out in the world, you are greeted with your recent mistake—sebastian. a hand-me-down from your ancestors that you summoned by chance and who now apparently has a contract with you. yet this modern world, working women, independence, and your awfully bratty attitude are challenges that are entirely new to him. however, he did swear to serve you. so, allow him to take care of his tired "mistress"

wordcount: 5k | my kinktober masterlist

It’s not every day that your job becomes stressful enough to fully tire you out. But today, today was even more draining than you had anticipated. Deep red eyes watch your tired form from across the hallway, raking over your figure as the owner remains quiet. Sebastian hasn't quite understood the fulfilment behind humans working themselves to the bone, nor the desire for young women to eagerly venture out to conquer “corporate,” as you once called it.

Yet, understanding or not, he is sworn to serve you and look after you. You are in his care until the contract is completed.

For this, he steps forward, his touch as sultry and gentle as his voice that welcomes you home. “My Lady,” the demon begins, as strength returns to your figure upon the stabilising hold of his hands on the small of your back while you remove your heels. You meet his smile with a glare from your pretty eyes, still wary of your newly added décor.

“I can handle myself just fine, Sebastian.” Yes, you’re a feisty one. Sebastian has been well aware of that fact since the moment you met. You dislike men staring at you in the street, loathe the forced small talk with them at work, or having to humour one of them when all you want is to be in the safety and comfort of your home. The once safe haven you now share with some sort of butler, or so he proclaimed. Never would you have expected such an outcome from your family’s antiques.

But here you are, the independent woman from before, now with a handsome devil at your beck and call. “You appear particularly exhausted tonight. Why not let me take care of you and help you to a restful night?” Sebastian proposes with gentle calmness to your vervour as his hands return to rest behind his back.

He irritates you. His act of concern for you when all he truly cares for is your soul. The motive is clear, yet he play-pretends to be something you cannot wrap your head around. “And what could you do for me?” you challenge in return, crossing your arms in front of your chest as the tip of your nose lifts a little higher to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “Anything you wish,” replies the butler, without a hint of malice in his words. “I would propose running a hot bath, brewing a warm cup of tea, and—” he pauses, clearly having caught himself with an idea you would despise.

The proposal sounds pleasing, almost exactly what you would do if you weren’t feeling too lazy to run a bath for yourself. But he doesn't need to know that. Your expression remains unfaltering, almost challenging. “And what? Speak, Sebastian.” The quirk of your brow ticks Sebastian off in just the right way, your confidence and demand a challenge he secretly enjoys.

The distance between your bodies grows smaller, and a gloved hand tips your chin up as red hues draw near. “A massage for your exhausted figure, my Lady.” He drawls the title, a pinch of condescension hidden in his words. You can’t resist the idea of standing on your toes, leaning further into his space to see him shrink away as your lips almost brush Sebastian’s while you speak: “Carry me, Sebastian.”

Yet, he does not shy away. He feels your pulse quicken, hears your heart drumming a beat of bravery, while your sweet lips could offer a relief he hasn’t felt in millennia. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth upon your demand and, without hesitation, you find yourself in his embrace. Knees and shoulders pressed firmly against his body, Sebastian carries you to your bedroom.

He knows tonight won’t be easy on him. Sebastian is well aware of the mischief you try to conceal, to seem more mature than you actually are. But tonight you appear different; tonight, you bring new challenges to your rendezvous once your head finds its rest on his shoulder. The tease of your breath against his neck, your smaller fingers playing with his necktie as you wet your lips. Nothing good comes from those pretty lips, Sebastian notes.

“Sebastian?” How can you suddenly say his name so softly? He looks down to you, the crimson tinge to his eyes making him appear like a starved hunter under the faint lights of the streetlamps and mood lights in your apartment. “The water is already set and at the perfect temperature for the female body.” Of course, he had heard your footsteps from afar and decided that tonight would be perfect for a bath. He is an expert at planning, at being one step ahead of everyone else. That is, until you continue speaking. A simple command, short and to the point, too alluring: “Undress me.”

You need to try harder if you wish to get a rise from him. For now, you find yourself seated on your bathroom counter with a newly found frown adorning your face. It doesn’t suit you, but it entertains Sebastian. “Your wish is my command,” he speaks an octave lower, honey almost dripping from his words before skilled fingers smooth out the fabric of your blouse. Sebastian’s gaze does not meet yours while he unbuttons it; he stays focused on the task without lusting over your exposed skin.

Suddenly, you wish he would want to devour you. The gloved touch that teases your upper body is not enough, yet so close to the fulfilling feeling of desire that you miss.

The clothing item is pushed off your shoulders before his touch ghosts along your waist. “May I continue?” The question is accompanied by one hand held out to you, palm facing up for you to grasp and rise to your feet. In one swift move, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror as Sebastian spins you around to undo the intricate buttons of your skirt you had struggled with this morning—why must designers place them in such difficult spots?

To nobody’s surprise, they are undone as quickly as your blouse, before your silk dress follows suit and pools around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but a tantalising set of underwear—dark red, almost a perfect match to Sebastian’s eyes. You eyes meet through the mirror and you refuse to shy away. No, like the little vixen that you are, you lean forward just enough to expose yourself further to your demon as you pretend to busy yourself by wiping off your lipstick.

It feels humbling to witness his gaze remain unfaltering; Sebastian continues to look into your eyes rather than the places you want his greed to be. “I will prepare your tea now,” he states as business continues as usual before leaving you alone.

A sigh is all you allow yourself as your shoulders slump. You really tried to seduce him. At the thought, you find a smile tugging at your mouth, the lust to be desired something that has been missing for a while now in your life. You know work, you know how to overwork yourself, and you have no time for flings or meaningless encounters. That was when he entered the picture.

Upon Sebastian’s return, he finds you seated in the bathtub; You’ve made sure to keep your hair out of the water and expose your neck, for hungry eyes to appreciate the shein layer of damp on your skin. The plate beneath the teacup meets the ceramic of your bathtub as your widened—nearly pleading—eyes shoot up to challenge his. If only you had acted a second quicker, you would have caught him staring at your cleavage, barely covered by the water and foam.

“Is there anything else you may need?” Sebastian inquires. He hates to admit it, but tonight seems like a greater challenge than he anticipated. How the simple word “You” could weaken a demon of his calibre is something for future Sebastian to concern himself with. Present Sebastian relishes the desire tugging at his stomach, the way you stare at him so submissively. Until you continue speaking: “Massage me, my butler.”

You turn your back to him as he takes his place behind you on the edge of the bathtub. Would you still be so smug if he grabbed your cheeks between his fingertips? If he forced you to look deep into his eyes while coaxing the cutest sounds past your lips? How can you act this way when at night you hump your pillow and beg for more, something better? Yet in the daylight, you behave like a spoiled princess, and he only adds to that imaginary status of yours. How badly he would love to ruin it. One or two more slip-ups, and he might find a loophole in your contract and commands.

To your dismay, gloved hands meet the skin of your neck. “Take them off, Sebastian. Touch me fully.” Your words bounce off the bathroom tiles, and his reply of “Yes, my lady,” echoes back. Shivers elicit along your neck as his skin touches yours, and the strength behind Sebastian’s touch massages the knots and the sorrow from your shoulders.

The moment is sweet enough to let your eyes fall closed, your head resting against Sebastian’s thigh as you sigh a gentle moan of relief. The sound snaps Sebastian’s attention to your face. With your eyes closed, he allows himself a moment to admire your features. Even a demon can admit that some humans are indeed beautiful. Sometimes, that beauty doesn’t surpass their soul, but in your case, there is something so unique about you that captivates Sebastian’s attention and lust.

You catch him staring as your eyes flutter open, the position you find yourself in so vulnerable, with him leaning above you. “Naughty butler…” you tease, and Sebastian wants to wipe that cheeky smirk right off your face. “If you have so much time to stare at me, you might as well wash my body for me.” The disrespectful teasing, as if he were nothing more than a pet, reminds Sebastian of someone else, someone he couldn’t wait to devour many years ago. But what else could he do but make himself useful for now?

In a swift move, Sebastian shrugs off his jacket and pushes up the sleeves of his buttoned shirt before kneeling beside your bathtub. He appears disinterested again, putting on a perfect mask of nonchalance as he runs the washcloth along your shoulders and arms, warming your figure and letting rose-scented water wash the sorrows away.

Until you’ve had enough of this act. Until you grow overly confident as you lean into his proximity: Your fingers lace around Sebastian’s wrist like a personal handcuff, your eyes locking onto his. “Be more thorough, Sebastian. Wash away the filth.” You go as far as to help him run the cloth over your chest. The drag of his nails against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine, and Sebastian watches you attentively, to witness your pupils dilate, the pink tip of your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your noses almost touch. He has never obeyed such a troublesome person before.

You start to bring out the worst in him—something that wants to teach you a lesson, something to remind you how different the roles could be if it weren't for this contract. The washcloth is pushed over your breasts and dips beneath the surface of the water to run along your stomach before being abandoned entirely as Sebastian’s fingers dip into the supple flesh of your thighs. Blunt nails drag along your inner thighs, and he loves to watch the shift in your demeanour; how you grow shy beneath his touch, your stare faltering as he draws dangerously close to your sacred area.

There is no bite to your bark as you cry out his name, your need for him too evident while you try to maintain a pretence. "S-Sebastian!" Finally, you act as your thighs press shut around his hand, panic ever so evident in your pretty eyes he can't stop the devilish smirk from spreading across his features. "My dear, don’t tell me you expect to play with fire and come out unharmed…"

The next moment, your back meets the cold stone as Sebastian races forward, hands placed left and right from your figure on the edge of the bathtub. The impact forces a puff of air to escape your lips as your eyes snap up to meet your butler’s dark pair, searching for a trace of humanity in those pools of crimson. "Behave…" you attempt to regain control, which is met with a chuckle. "I only follow your commands," he challenges as the cloth returns to clean your body. "You wanted me to be thorough, let me be thorough."

However, the lips that crash against the racing pulse in your neck have nothing to do with the command of cleaning your body. Sebastian acts upon his own selfish accord, upon the lust you’ve ignited by teetering too close to the dangerous territories of demonic desires.

And he makes you feel too good as he ravages you, suckling and nipping at your skin until you can't help but moan, your head falling back to offer him more space. You can't even think of a fitting command, the sweet words for him to "Don’t stop, please," a much more natural reaction as his palms cup your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you whimper ever so prettily.

"Who would have thought you could turn into such a sweet darling?" Sebastian teases with whispered words against the shell of your ear, the hum that follows so deep and low it has your stomach fluttering. Your fingers lace between his dark strands, effectively holding him in place as you return to being face-to-face with Sebastian. Shamelessly, you allow yourself to rake your eyes over his sharp features. You've never wanted anything more than him. But the thought evaporates upon the sharp sensation of nails against your waistline and hips, upon the pair of fingers pushing between your folds before rubbing against your clit.

Oh? How willingly you part your legs now, Sebastian muses.

"Is this thorough enough, my lady?" he mocks as his fingertips press against the opening of your pussy, your eager hole giving way slightly as he pushes past. He knows what he’s doing to you. He sees it in the crease of your brow, feels it as your hips buck against his touch. "More, Sebastian, I need more tonight." Like the greedy thing you are, you take it upon yourself to play with your breasts, yet the silent plea in your eyes tells your butler all you want is for him to take care of you.

“Oh dear,” he whispers gently, but smiles victoriously as your moans tumble from your trembling lips when two of his fingers push inside you. "Do you give yourself to me? Allow me full reign, hm?"

The idea sounds great, perfect, until you manage to flutter your heavy eyes open and see the devious apparition in front of you. Sebastian’s eyes are more slanted, set ablaze, deep pink hues now replacing his usual red, with lust overflowing past his thick lashes as pointed teeth hide behind his full lips. Giving yourself to a demon doesn’t seem like the best idea, but the fingers stimulating your gummy spot have you nodding regardless. How lucky you are that you need to use words under these circumstances.

“Darling, tell me,” Sebastian urges as his thrusts become harsher, uncaring for the water or your comfort as your tits bounce and your walls clamp so promisingly. “N-no, no, Sebastian! Just, ah—” you falter as you try your best to stay present, to keep control over this demon while he fingerfucks you. “Think, speak, quickly, little Lady,” he further pressures you. What he wouldn’t give to do with your body whatever he wants. “Just-, just tonight! Sebastian—” the way you moan his name makes you a sinner itself, it should send you to all seven hells as the echoes ring inside his mind. “Look after me, tonight,” you finally manage to cry out as your walls pull in desperate need. “Make me feel good,” your final demand.

But instead of sweet release, you feel the disappointing emptiness as he retracts his fingers, leaving you a heaving mess in your bathtub—only now do you notice how cold the water has turned. “You can ask more nicely than that, my dear.” There is little consideration to be spared for the length of your bath once a strong arm wraps around your waist. Sebastian wastes no time in having you seated on his lap, your wet form drenching his clothing as he spreads your legs over his thighs and presses you flush against his chest. “I will look after you until the day you die,” he whispers into your ear, and maybe if the words weren’t so true and less intimidating, you could consider them romantic.

You notice that Sebastian’s form has returned to fully human, with almost tender eyes meeting yours this time around, turning your desire mellow and seasoned with sweetness. “Kiss me, please.”

He follows suit as your lips crash together a moment later, his palms stabilising your back in his hold. “More…” you breathe. Your fingers reach out to guide one of his hands on your back, between the valley of your tits, down your stomach, until you ultimately buck your hips against his, seeking further friction in desperate need. He tightens his hold on your body, tugging gently at your frame as he leans forward to suck on your wet skin, leaving marks in his wake. A small grin tugs at his lips as a soft whimper escapes you. “What’s wrong?” The whispered question makes goosebumps spread over your skin as the chill of his breath battles with the warmth of your bathroom.

“Want to be ruined by you.” The words that fall past your lips seal your fate. “Please, make me feel good, Sebastian.” You sound so desperate, only a fool would resist. “Taint me,” you shamelessly sigh against his ear, “Let me feel you.”

“Taint you…” he murmurs, halting his movements momentarily to witness you grow impatient before one of his arms holds a firm grip around your waist, restricting your movements as you’re now fully pressed against his chest. “How much more does my little Lady want to be tainted?” His free hand ghosts along your puffy lips, your slick making the drag too easy, too appealing to not draw circles into your clit, only pulling back any time he feels you squirm on his lap. Your little cries are music to Sebastian’s ears. It’s so good, too good, the way his fingers move, almost as if he already knows all your weak spots. “Do you wish to experience bliss only I could give you, and ruin yourself for all eternity?” His questions urge you to wrap your arms around him, to hide your face in the gentle embrace of a monster, as though you’re trying to hide from judgement itself upon your immoral fantasies. “I wish for that, Sebastian.”

No further words are needed, not when your lips convey more as they meet Sebastian's. A kiss so fierce, he may steal the air from your lungs and drag you to hell himself. Teeth pull at your bottom lip unapologetically, his tongue meeting with your own, entwining with another until you taste him. Meanwhile, the familiar stretch of his fingers, accompanied by the filthy squelching of your arousal, threatens to overload your senses. The teasing returns as your lips part to allow Sebastian a front row seat to your desperate play, as his thumb presses into your clit. You really yearn for this orgasm, don’t you? Of course, you do, with how tightly you clench around his digits, pulsing as though you’re trying to keep him inside—as if he couldn’t offer you a much better alternative.

“Let go, my dear, you look so beautiful right now, I want to see you come undone for me.” Sebastian encourages, as his fingers expertly curl against your walls, each time pushing past the limits of what you’re able to take. So you let go, finally, allowing your eyes to shut as your fingers fist the fabric of his dress shirt. He’s never received praise in a prayer-like form, the sighing thank-yous tumbling free between your moans, so unlike the feisty thing you pretend to be. You are adorable. “Very good, my darling, just like that.” Sebastian whispers, as the movements slow down until his fingers still inside you, until the heaving of your chest and the trembling of your thighs calms, and you fall into his embrace.

But much to Sebastian's surprise, and despite his predictions about your exhaustion, you return his previous affections. Your lips kiss along his neck as you undo his necktie, fingertips already so eager to free him from the confines of his clothes, it makes Sebastian wonder who the real glutton between you two is. “My Lady,” he innocently halts your advances as he entwines his fingers with your own, kissing each tip while holding eye contact. “Shouldn’t we proceed to your chambers? I don’t wish to bring needless discomfort upon you—you need your strength to handle me.” At that, you feel his tongue drag along your pointer finger before a final kiss is placed on its tip, while a devious smile returns to Sebastian’s lips. If only you wouldn’t look so adorable each time he teases you. But you are already too far gone to keep up pretences, when you can instead allow someone else to finally be your resolve.

So it's only natural for you to command Sebastian once more. “Bring me to my bed,” you mumble while your arms already lace around his neck. He follows.

Yet it catches you by surprise once you’re simply dropped into your bouncy mattress and sea of pillows. However, in the next moment, you find yourself caged underneath Sebastian. Your hands roam free to undo his dress shirt and shrug it off his figure, allowing your nails to drag over his pearly skin until you reach his pants and finally feel what lies hidden behind the dark fabrics.

You seem in control, until firm hands spread your thighs and Sebastian leans in, to nibble along your inner legs, shining in the moonlight as he dives between your thighs to lap at your cunt, his tongue pushing past the tight ring of your entrance before dragging all over your hot and puffy pussy. He then licks and kisses his way up your stomach, sternum, and nipples, while the surprising satisfaction of his cock—hot, hard, and leaking with pre-cum—coats itself with your juices. He grinds against you until you writhe for more, until his hands find rest on the back of your knees so he can press your legs up against your sides, fully opening you to thrust into you without struggle, without restraint, as lust overcomes him.

You shake your head at the stretch of his girth welcoming your pussy, sweet pleas mixed with whiny complaints escaping your lips without much thought. “‘S too much, Sebastian… can’t…” you admit. The chuckle that follows is devious, before a soft sigh in satisfaction follows as tender lips place an adoring kiss to your cheek. “You will,” Sebastian whispers, followed by the command “Now just surrender to me.” His lips seek out your own once more as he picks up a relentless pace.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red streaks that run deep. You can’t look at anything but him—his strong body on top of yours, the visible strain to his muscles while he ruts into you—until you find yourself once more captivated by his eyes. He almost looks at you lovingly, no hungrily. But Sebastian doesn't just want to consume your soul; no, his desires reach beyond basic greed. He wants to own you, to keep you to himself, to reign over you until your best years are over. You can see it clearly while swimming in crimson. But with the delicious drag of his cock inside your walls, you might just let him. Who would have expected you to be tamed this well by getting fucked?

“Please, please, please,” you exhale as your head lolls from side to side, writhing beneath your very own demon. Oh? You’re quick to beg. Quick to turn desperate, so eager to have more of something that should never have been yours. “Sebastian, Sebastian,” you repeat like a mantra as his hands hold your fragile body, digging into your hips to force you into a perfect arch for Sebastian to ravage your skin. He litters kisses over your chest, laps at your nipples, and drags your hips back down to snap against his while he is guided by gluttony.

“Give yourself to me,” you demand with no trace of shame in your bones, finally giving him a task worthy of your beautiful soul. “Stay with me, be mine…”

You almost feel dizzy with how easily Sebastian hoists you up until you’re on all fours, ass perfectly exposed for him to fully sheath his cock inside you, effectively pushing your upper body into your sea of pillows. But in stark contrast to his rather harsh handling of your body, his lips return to press soft kisses along your back. “I am yours if you are mine, my darling.” The words flow like honey before your blood coats Sebastian’s tongue as he breaks the skin, engraving himself on your skin.

Your fingers dig into the cushions, searching for support as you struggle. But the strong arm lacing around your body is all the comfort you will need from now on; his cold touch will soon set you ablaze.

Sebastian is deep inside you, the head of his cock finding your sweet spot almost naturally as he perfectly curves against your velvet walls, hips snapping against your arse cheeks with unforeseen fervour. His hands dig into your hips, surely bruising your hip bones for the coming days, but you’ve never felt this good before. Never so full, never as cared for as by the monster that is in love with your soul. You moan his name in delight, making Sebastian proud once you eagerly bounce back into his thrusts.

The husky sounds of pleasure grow clearer as his movements slow down. You feel yourself being further pushed against the mattress, to spread your legs to spread wider and arch deeper, for his penetration to slowly steal your sanity. Who would have expected the pressure of his palm against your stomach would make you clamp around him this much? Moaning, whimpering, pleading as you beg for mercy, trying to tell him it’s too… “Too good, Sebastian, I’m—”

His movements are slow but precise, accentuating the way you desperately clamp around him in an attempt to hold him inside you for eternity. “Yes, fall apart. Let go for me,” Sebastian’s eyes roam over your smaller body beneath him, a sweaty, shaking mess. He will take care of that right after you are done. For now, instead of worrying, his hands grab at your ass almost aggressively, spreading your lower lips even further as he ruts into you.

The high-pitched squeal that escapes your throat when he picks up his pace again serves as a perfect display of your misery. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes as your hips are pushed back to meet Sebastian’s relentless thrusts. “Make me proud, little Lady...” is his final demand, with sneaky fingers returning to play with your clit as he hoists you off the bed, holding you tightly against his chest.

You’re fully seated on his cock, entirely engulfed by his embrace and consumed by the same demon, just as you bask in the sweet release coursing through your veins. Sebastian allows himself to be lost in your pretty cries and the way your pussy practically drips from both of your orgasms. True to his nature, he watches you like a devil on your shoulder; dark red eyes witnessing your fucked-out expression with the cutest smile illuminates your features.

His lips caress your neck as he whispers, “Do you feel better now?” You hum and let your fingers card through his hair, a tired “I do. Thank you, Sebastian” exchanged from your mouth to his ear.

Swiftly, Sebastian moves to carry you back to your spacious bathtub and lets it refill with warmth. “How about my Lady actually relaxes this time around?”

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[osakhee]

your honor, rival attorney!wonbin x rival attorney!reader

! wonbin is a little bitch

the trial has been going on for hours. long hours. your formal attorney outfit is starting to feel tight, your skin feeling itchy each time you stood up to object from your shirt brushing against it. you speak with confidence, ignoring the panicked look growing on your client's face. yet each of your arguments meet a wall, the defendant's attorney knowing how to play his cards very well.

on the other side of the courtroom is park wonbin. even though he is young and recently out of law school, his name is often mentioned as one of the best attorney of his generation. wonbin has accepted only a few contracts, but won all of his trials, the admiration around him growing like crazy.

and currently, wonbin is looking right at you from the defendant's desk, his eyes piercing through yours with a cold gaze. yet there is something about the annoying smirk on his face that makes your blood run hot each time you glance at him. you look down at your papers, your notes and proofs while the judge talks to the defendant. you need to focus on getting your client out of the fraud he is accused of.

the wooden hammer hitting the slate makes you jump and put your papers down. since the trial started, earlier in the morning, wonbin and you have been fighting each other and throwing words like knives. yet none of you is ready to let go. and you would never give the chance to wonbin to see a little weakness, a little crack in your confidence that would make his eyes tingle and the smirk on his face grow.

"are you not going to give up?"

you meet wonbin's eyes again. behind his black hair falling in front of his forehead, his dark and playful pupils are fixated on you. for wonbin, everything seems so easy, but he has to admit you're fighting really well. the loud noise of the hammer on the wooden slate breaks the silence.

"mr park, that's enough."

the judge's words only make wonbin chuckles. he watches as you stand up, going through your notes and exposing more facts to the judges.

"your honor, i wanted to point out the fact that my client is a victim, he was manipulated into using that money-"

"you already mentioned that pretty"

you throw a glare at wonbin. he is standing, his arms crossed on his chest, barely listening to the judge asking him to keep quiet. you feel a wave of panic take over, yet you can't give up. you believe deeply that wonbin is only using intimidation -and probably his pretty eyes- to make people lose their composure.

the judge takes a deep breath, and invites you to sit back down to your desk.

"we'll be taking a thirty minutes break. the court needs to discuss the situation. we'll either take our decision today, or we'll have to schedule another trial. thank you."

the first break in hours. you get out of the courtroom to head towards the bathroom, you really need to wash your face and feel cold water slow down the flow of your blood. it would be a shame to meet wonbin on the way, in the silent corridors of the courthouse.

you walk out of the bathroom, adjusting the sleeves of your white shirt when you are met with a tall figure. wonbin stands in front of you, hands in his pockets, his formal black vest opened and his tie loosened. the smile on his face makes the blood rush back into your veins.

"taking a break pretty?"

"i don't want to talk to you unless we are in the courtroom."

he is getting on your nerves. you walk past him, not looking at him and ignoring the burning gaze you can feel on your back. but wonbin is not done with you yet. he catches your shoulder in his hand and squeezes gently, lowering his head to match your height until you meet his eyes.

"why are you trying so hard when you know you don't have a chance, hm?"

you dont reply, and wonbin clicks his tongue. not taking your silence for an answer, his grip on your shoulder tighten until you look at him.

"listen, i'm tired, you're tired, and we have twenty minutes. let's get rid of this trial with a little challenge."

"and what's on your mind?"

wonbin smiles. he walks down the corridor and you follow him. you don't even know why you're following him, you should be with your client, choosing your next arguments, telling him what to say-

"get in."

wonbin's voice stops the track of your thoughts. the door opened in front of you reveals an empty courtroom, the light dimmed by the heavy red curtains covering the windows. once you're inside, the wooden door closes with a muffle thud, woobin safely locking it behind him. the afternoon glow of the sun barely makes it inside, but it's enough for you to see wonbin under a different light. it makes his hair shiny, his eyes glittery and his lips look more glossy than before. you sit down on the defendant desk, the wood creaking under you. wonbin walks up to you, his fingers playing with his tie until he takes the knot off, letting the black tissue rest on his shoulders.

"i was thinking... we could make a little bet together."

"... go on"

"we can fuck for the trial. if i cum first, you can have your way. but if you cum first, you have to tell the judge you're giving up on the trial."

"what if i say no?"

"oh. well. you'll have regrets i guess."

"... okay, bet. but you stand no chance."

it is all wonbin needed to hear. he gets closer, his face in front of yours, his breath hovering your lips. he wastes no time, his hand grabbing your neck to drag you closer to him until his lips crash on yours. he is rough and impatient, moving harshly his mouth against yours to have his tongue make his way inside. his body presses against your chest, finding naturally his place between your legs, his other hand resting on the desk you're sitting on. when you finally opens your mouth to take a breath, wonbin slides his tongue in, asserting dominance enough to make you whine. your fingers find their way into his hair, and you hold onto it to keep yourself in touch with reality, tugging himself closer to you.

wonbin leaves your lips to trail kisses down your jaw and neck, biting your skin on his way. it makes a moan grow into your throat that finally gets out when wonbin grabs your waist and draw your hips closer to his. he lets out a laugh, rocking the bulge in his pants against the burning heat of your core.

"i prefer when you're moaning instead of talking. far more interesting."

time is ticking, and wonbin knows it. not much time for foreplay, to his own despair. he drags you down the desk, switching your position to bend you down on the wooden surface. you rest on your hands, looking back at wonbin opening his pants in a hurry. he lowers it just enough to palm himself through his gray underwear, precum making a spot grow larger at each move of his hand. he leaves the throbbing tent alone, gripping your waist into one of his hand. his palm going over your clothed ass, down your thighs to finally lift the grey formal skirt you are wearing. wonbin licks his lips looking at your panties slowly getting wetter, his fingers easily finding their way to your core to tease you over the soft fabric.

the way his nails graze sensitive points makes you squirm on the desk, each whiny breath sounding a little more like a plea for him go further. your panties are quickly pushed to the side, wonbin's fingers rubbing your folds in a slow pace before pushing them inside of you. he takes your loud moan as a positive response, his hand setting a quick pace into your heat. your voice echoes in the empty room, mixed with wonbin's low groans while he pushes his free hand down his underwear, watching his fingers disappear inside of you with ease.

he abandons his painful cock to grab his tie that was resting on his shoulder, his hand stilling deep inside of you. he presses his chest against your back, stuffing the black fabric into your mouth.

"you wouldn't want the judge song eunseok to know what we're doing, would you pretty?"

you whine into the tissue when wonbin takes his fingers out of you, watching in awe your arousal dripping down his hand. he messily lowers his underwear to free his dick, standing proud and red, precums beading at the tip and begging for attention. your skirt up your ass, wonbin grabs your flesh while giving his cock a few pumps.

"you can't win against me."

your panties are dragged to the side again, and wonbin rubs his tip against your burning folds, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. just the feeling of the heat radiating from you is enough to have him in pure bliss. he doesn't want to waste a second and pushes the head of his cock inside of you, the tightness of your core making him throw his head back, hissing between his teeth at the feeling. he rolls slowly his hips into yours, pushing much deeper inside your folds. wonbin curses in his breath when his eyes stare down at where you're both connected, grabbing the skin of your ass desperately.

his thrusts are needy, messy, yet powerful, enough to make you see stars each time his dick get deeper inside of you. your hands claw weakly at the desk to find stability, the black clothe in your mouth is wet from the drool building up. each of your breaths turn into a cry, a moan that sounds like music to wonbin's ears. he can't barely keep control, the pleasure building too fast inside his stomach, making his hips stutters against yours.

the wood creaks under your body, each of wonbin's precise thrusts makes the desk move. the sound of your muffled moans barely covers his own whines. his eyes are closed, his head thrown back, his hand in his hair. he's keeping himself concentrated on only one thing : making you cum before he does. and his sensitive body is already on the verge of giving up, the way your walls are tight and warm around him, the curve of your back arching with his moves, the break in your voice crying out his name when he hits that spot so deep inside of you... everything is made to have him lose that bet.

the said bet is far lost into your thoughts. your mind feels mushy and foggy, you can only concentrate on the taste of the tissue in your mouth, the wet sound of wonbin's dick easily slipping in and out of you and the burning sensation between your thighs. its growing stronger and fast, too fast. your legs starts shaking, a breathless chuckle coming out of wonbin at the sight. he grabs your thigh in his hands, squeezing the flesh and feeling your walls tighten around him.

"just like that pretty... trying to make me lose so hard hm?"

his voice is almost enough to send you over the edge. wonbin slows his pace, grinding ever so slowly his hips to reach as deep as he can inside of you, pressing his body impossibly closer to yours. he grips your waist to keep you in place, pushing his dick further inside. the feeling of his tip rubbing against the same spot over and over again is so overwhelming. you can't fight the sudden rush of heat that courses your body, your orgasm hitting you like never before. the pleasure makes you breathless, your mouth opening in a silent moan and your eyes closed shut.

seeing the pleasure break your body apart is enough for wonbin to reach his peak, rutting against you until the tension in his lower stomach breaks. his load erupts from his cock, flooding your insides, wonbin weakly moving his hips to make sure he's emptying himself completely. he presses his hand on your back before pulling out, watching as the thick milky liquid drip from your core and hit the wooden floor.

the metal sound of wonbin's belt tickling brings you back to reality. you feel his hand press into your sensitive heat over your fully soaked panties, just to make sure his cum is safely stuffed inside of you. you dizzily stand up, and turn around to look at him, resting against the desk for stability. his black hair is messy and some strands are stuck to his forehead, his skin glows under the dim light. wonbin neatly tucks his shirt back inside his pants, extending his opened hand in front of you. you look away and put down the wet cloth of his tie that he just hides in his pocket with a smile. you arrange your skirt down your thighs and button up your white shirt all the way up. wonbin has a cheeky smile on his face, his eyes shining with the only valid tingle : the tingle of a winner.

"loser."

"shut up."

you start walking away from the desk to reach the door. you have no idea how much time has passed but you probably don't have long before the judges sit back into the courtroom and have the trial start again. you think about the bet, the stupid bet. now you're going to make wonbin even more famous than he already is. you unlock the door and feel an arm around your shoulder and wonbin's lips press against your ear in a whisper.

"i can't wait to see you stand up with my cum dripping down you thighs when you tell the judge that you're giving up on the trial."

🪄

first work yippie :3 forever thanks to @melobin for giving me the strength to write again THIS IS ALL FOR YOU LUV 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[dxstopiaa]

Impetous Injuries

Synopsis: Caring for an irresponsibly injured man was not on your plan for today, so why was he at your door?

Characters: Morax, Xiao, Childe and Scaramouche x Fem! Reader!

Warnings: Zhongli as an archon and Scaramouche as fatui again, Childe’s part has angst/comfort. description of injuries and trauma. ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ [i needed to post something sfw and clear my drafts! <3]

Morax

It wasn’t every day that you’d hear the hasty pummel of closed fists against your front door and even rarer was it to witness one of the Seven requesting for your help— a meagre goddess who tried to live a tranquil, joyous life to the best of her ability.

“I fear i may of overestimated myself, dear.” Morax’s throaty voice could be made out from behind the door, notably lower in volume. Neither was this the first time, yet something felt different than usual. Of course, the archaic god was prone to injury in battle, but upon opening the door, he was more maimed than you had thought.

Brunette strands of hair plastered to his chest and forehead—covered in elemental ichor and sweat. His limbs were littered in a spectrum of wounds, bruises and incisions alike. His robes of ivory reduced to scraps of crimson-dyed fabric, blood from who knows where drenched his torso.

In short, you were responsible for an Archon who had gotten himself too deep into bloodlust. As always. Your lips pressed together before you let out a displeased hum. You just wished he would of cared for himself better.

“Morax…are you even aware of the severity of your injuries? Thank Celestia no one had attacked you on the way here!” You scolded, arms crossed as an attempt to look irked enough for the irresponsible man to come to his long-lost senses.

Though to him, you just looked adorable, he had always been fond of your gentle heart in the midst of a war. Therefore, Rex Lapis knew you valued him too much to leave him isolated in the dangerous depths of the night, entering your abode and placing a bloodstained hand on your pretty face. You didn’t grimace from his touch.

“I’m truly sorry, but you’re the only one i can trust with healing, my goddess.” You felt your knees buckle at the endearment, rather embarrassed that such a high-status being was addressing you as superior. He just never learns, does he?

“Please stop the flattery, my Lord. Instead, follow me so i can actually treat you.” Another exasperated sigh from your lips, you gently held his finger and guided him to the steaming bath, collecting all relevant tonics and herbs in your store room and returning back to the wounded god.

Your heart lept in your chest seeing this he was, quite literally, already fully undressed. Oh, so shamelessness was another quality he lacked? It most certainly didn’t help that he could barely even fit his tall frame into the jade tub, glowing aureate arms casually resting on the outskirts of the container. You felt your mind begin to wander as did your trail of vision.

“Ah, my injuries are starting to sting slightly—Hm? What has you so timid?” Morax’s tone felt unfamiliar to you, seeing the God of contracts so relaxed might of stunned you beyond repair. You dismissed yourself, dampening a medicated towel and wiping it gently over his chiseled chest—as calmly as one could in such a predicament.

Grunts and groans followed with some obscenities of his at the stinging serums painted your cheeks scarlet. Genuine or not, you didn’t think you could hold your composure for another minute. Even worse— the youthful archon wouldn’t remove his piercing critical gaze from your face, analysing every single movement in your expression.

“Admire me and my lips all you’d like afterwards, but i’m in a dire condition at the moment, dearest.”

“It’s not like that, Morax! Halt such talk and stay quiet whilst i treat you! Please!”

Xiao

Stubborn.

The quality that the Yaksha had always been described as. Especially by you. Yet he never listened to your pleads to let you help him.

Xiao hesitantly loitered around the door to your estate, a gloved hand lingering on the doorknob for longer than it should have. He’s been doubting his feelings of just ‘friendship’. He’s seen human couples— so loving and expressive it squeezes his heart in a manner so painful, you deserved better than a man who didn’t even think to enter your home, so he discarded his thought.

Especially one who would turn up with blood around his clothes, a deep wound on his side too.

Just as he contemplated leaving, the wooden barrier inched open. You held a miniature basket, a lengthy list in the other. Xiao was keen to disappear at that moment. Despite this, you were quick to drop them both to encase the adeptus in a tight embrace.

“Xiao!” An excited exclamation from you as you rested your cheek against his shoulder. Had you noticed his injuries at all, or was it pure blinded excitement to greet him? Crimson still trickled down his abdomen, but you had wrapped your arms around his waist.

A surge of pain and discomfort flashed through his body— he couldn’t stop the loud gasp he let out when your arm grazed his injury.

“Agh!” Xiao cried out, causing you to recoil back into place upright upon the doorstep. Your delicate features morphed into a state of horror whilst he stumbled back. Your sleeves were coated with vermillion fluid, eyes fluttering to the yaksha’s expression and back to your stained clothing.

“This isn’t anything major, i’ll leave myself to treat it—” You barely let the usually vigilant adeptus finish his sentence before grabbing his wrist and pulling him close gently, barricading him from vanishing into a flurry of karmic debt.

“No. I can’t let you go until you’ve recovered well, you can barely walk upright Xiao!” You smoothed your thumb over his cheek tenderly, distracting him that you were, in fact, taking him inside into the safety of your abode.

The adeptus’ face was warm— tentatively watching your own lips so close to his. Your kindness was irreplaceable, your heart was too soft for his liking, but he’s never once felt unwelcome in your presence. Xiao had witnesses the false sympathy humans showed off towards him, yet you’ll always be willing to listen.

Now you’re treating his wounds? Why are you doing this?

“I’m running out of my medicine, i’ll visit Bubu Pharmacy later, just have these now, please?” You offered, suddenly noticing the flush over his cheeks. Maybe he has a fever too? He accepted the concoction of herbs, hesitantly consuming the mixture. Xiao, having noticed your obvious staring at his chest, shifted around in his seat.

“Xiao…?” Archons, he just looked so anxious it’s endearing, you’d hate to push him from his comfort zone but he hasn’t got much of a choice.

“Yes?”

“You’re going to have to…remove your shirt—” You meekly stated, ashamedly hanging your head down at your lap as he cleared his throat numerous times. That just sounded so disrespectful! What if he took it the wrong way? You resided within the embarrassing realm of overthinking.

“As you wish, but be quick, i’d rather not have you ogling me.”

“I do not!”

Childe

Two in the morning.

That was the time your beloved decided to show up— weak, timid thumps of his open palm across the wooden barrier. Childe knew he had already messed up, clenching his jaw with anxious anticipation. What would you say? Yesterday, tired tears flowed down your cheeks. It hurt him to leave his care in your hands rather than his own. Would you do anything at all? Would you leave him lonely in the cold?

The harbinger’s questions were answered for him. Your body slumped over, distress tugged at your eyebrows. You stared at every injured limb of his.

Merciless splotches of the infamous crimson liquid matched his scarf, ripped and loosely tied against his thigh. A tourniquet, ideal for hiding the severity of the injury below it. His bruised skin was as lifeless as the pale snow cascading to the floor, where his eyes stayed put. A classic snezhnayan man fitting right into his war-strife homeland. If it wasn’t his own blood, it was the metallic scent of other’s. The unpleasant smell was overpowering, that migraine of yours worsening and nausea invading your stomach.

You remained blank and wordless, firmly securing one of his least injured arms over your shoulders and guiding him to the armchair. Childe hated seeing you like this— yet he never changed his ways. He didn’t know what hurt more, the pre-assembled medical kit laying on the side cabinet, or the two cold dishes set upon the dining table that went uneaten from hours ago. He messed up, for sure.

“Darling…Please, say something.” Tartaglia breathily beseeched, clasping a wounded hand over yours. You shook him off. You yourself didn’t know what you were feeling. Shock? Well, this was the third time this week, so no. Hurt? Something deeper than that.

“Say what? Childe, you just never learn!” Your sudden outburst made him flinch, and your heart panged with guilt—yet it was never strong enough to overcome your fury.

“Two days ago you arrived with major burns, the next with a broken wrist and today barely making it alive? Tomorrow will you even come back to me? Or will your coworkers deliver me your death instead?” Your tears swelled up in your eyes, distracting him from you by pressing the antiseptic towel against his stab wounds.

Childe hissed, unsure if the sting was from your harsh words or from the medication. His heart felt as if someone had squeezed it tight, the truth pained him to hear, especially from his wife’s mouth. He had kept you up for so long, losing your rest and throwing you into an abyss of constant worry. He deserved it. How could he ignore you?

“Love, i’m so sorry, i beg you, you can do anything to me. Ignore me, hate me or punish me for all i care, just don’t leave me alone…please.” His cerulean eyes held no lies, staring into your distant ones with desperate longing.

He clinged onto your torso, near sobbing into the crook of your neck. The frantic nature of his words broke your trance, anger dissipating with each tear of your own. Soon enough, your arms instinctively raised to wrap him in your embrace. Staying infuriated with him was futile.

His half-conscious pleads ceased as he calmed down, exhaustion catching up to the young Harbinger. You combed his matted tresses with your fingers, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead to lull him into comfort.

“I’m sorry, Childe, just take better care of yourself, okay?” You reassured, his confirmation in response felt real this time. He rested his heavy head in your lap, enjoying the warmth of your hand on his cheek.

Your husband wouldn’t give up your company for the world—if he had to cease his pursuit of strength for you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Scaramouche

“What, are you just going to stand there staring at me? Let me in.”

A rude introduction from an even more arrogant man. Scaramouche stood lazily upright at the entrance to your estate, somehow expecting you to take him in your arms and nourishment. Expecting you not to question him. Too bad you did just that.

“Yes, i will. Care to explain why you’re here?” You scoffed in an equally aggressive manner. Your eyes trailed up his legs and waist, exposed and bruised— if that was possible for a puppet. Nothing spilled from said wounds, but the Harbinger discreetly winced from the pain. He remained there silent, opting not to share any details.

“Shut up, this isn’t my fault.” Scaramouche almost yelled, his unexpected outrage igniting irritation through your body.

Oh? You clenched your teeth together in frustration. Your grasp on the doorknob was deathly, you were in no mood to deal with his attitude nor his own problems. “Then this isn’t my concern.”

And with that, you forced the door shut— well, as far as you could. Scaramouche pushed the door open with his foot and arm, a look of disbelief and confusion gleamed in his eyes. How dare you? Those words he wanted to spit at you, but all that fell was a single word.

“Wait!” The harbinger exclaimed, forcing his way through the gap in door. He couldn’t believe himself. First, he dared to show up to your house and now he’s begging for your help? He felt pathetic, truly.

Resistance was pointless against him. Letting your ex-boyfriend back into the very same house he’d swear he’d never step into again. But being ruthlessly ignorant was his characteristic, not yours. Scaramouche had obviously forfeited whatever ego he latched onto— you weren’t that cruel as to leave an injured man by himself.

“I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn’t of been so blunt.” His head, for once, was inclined towards the wooden floor, indigo eyes barely meeting yours. It was an apology nonetheless. “I mean, for everything, even for how i acted before.”

Scaramouche was…genuine? Bewilderment accumulated within your judgement, your heart softened. You knew this feeling— you knew you shouldn’t be feeling sympathetic for the harbinger you used to love so dearly, the man who left you without a valid answer. It couldn’t be helped.

The more that Scaramouche longingly gazed at you, the more he desired to be kept in your arms just like he used. His cold exterior melted away like treaded snow, instead your footsteps trampled over it. He couldn’t justify the guilt-ridden sensation plucking away at each inch of his body. He found himself on that day, emotional, again.

Scaramouche doesn’t act like this. Kunikuzushi does.

If he had to surrender his dignity to take you back as his, he’ll do it, just this once. His fingers, still blistered and scarred from earlier yet appearing so delicate on his porcelain skin grazed your jaw. Soft touches and gestures lulled him into safety within your embrace. An action he missed far too much.

Kunikuzushi latched tightly onto you in his mindless stupor of mental and physical distress, not coming to terms with he consequences of his behaviour later on. You found his conduct abnormal—  if it was fear of losing you again, or simple loss of informed conscious, you wouldn’t know.

Raised, superficial gashes of violet and burgundy littered his pained countenance. You never thought that wounds could look as pretty as his. Not a single tear was shed for a vessel such as he, but his grasp on you slipped once the puppet fell into a peaceful slumber.

With your heedful care and more ointments than preferred, he had recovered by the next morning and those surreal memories wafted back to him. Two sentences wavered in his mind.

“Don’t disregard my words from yesterday, i meant it. Whether you accept it, it’s up to you…”

“…If it results in less harm for you, i’ll listen to those words from my mouth thousands of times over.”

[agi-ppangx]

💭strangers to lovers (100 followers special)

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

“i have a delivery for mr. kim!” you exclaimed proudly when a caramel haired boy opened the back door to the coffee shop. 

recently you made your dream come true and opened your own little bakery. since you were five and your mom let you help her with baking cookies and pastries on holidays you knew it was something you wanted to pursue as an adult. something about measuring ingredients, mixing them together and waiting for the cake to be done is oddly soothing for you, it taught you patience and accuracy. and now you were beyond happy, being able to have a rewarding job and do the things you enjoy. 

a few weeks ago you got a call from a small coffee shop near your bakery; the owner wanted to sign a contract with you so that your bakery would supply his café with pastries. and you agreed, of course you agreed, because nothing made you prouder than more people trying your baked goods.

“oh, yeah. you can place them here, on the table.” he pointed inside and you smiled widely at him. he only nodded and got back to work, you heard the coffee machines and faint music coming from the front of the café. though you didn’t see much of the main room, it seemed to you that it was really cosy and quiet and you made a mental note to come here in your free time. when you unpacked everything from your car you made your way to the boy and gave him a piece of paper. “here, there’s a list of things you ordered for today. could you check if everything’s okay and if so, could you sign this?” you asked shyly, not wanting to interrupt him, since he was clearly preparing his equipment for the day. he mumbled a faint “sure” and did as you told him to. when he was checking the pastries you were able to take a closer look - he must’ve been your age or slightly older and he seemed really peaceful, his face features were soft and really pretty. “everything looks great.” his voice brought you to reality. you observed his hand as he was signing the paper and handed it to you. “thank you for all of this, it looks delicious,” he added and it made you blush a little. “sure thing, i hope people will like it,” you responded softly and then headed to the exit. “see you tomorrow, mr. kim!” you waved goodbye and got in your car to start your day as well. 

the next morning looked exactly the same. you arrived with a car full of cookies and cupcakes and placed them on the table. the barista took a look at them and you gave him the piece of paper. “everything sold out yesterday, i think people liked it,” he murmured while signing it. you grinned at that. “really? that’s awesome!” he looked back at you and gave you a shy smile. “okay, i gotta go now, bye mr. kim!” you waved at him, but his voice made you stop in your tracks. “don’t call me mr. kim, it makes me feel old.” you chuckled at his words, realising that in fact it might’ve been quite weird. “just call me seungmin.” “hi seungmin, i’m yn.”

now your every day began with this little interaction with seungmin. even though he was always quiet, not saying much, you didn’t mind and his calm disposition didn't stand in the way of becoming friends. “hey, um, i tried this new recipe and i wondered if it came out good. would you mind tasting it and rating it on a scale from one to ten?” you asked him one day while handing him a little bun with marzipan filling. you’d never tried to bake it before, but you remembered your mum saying one day that her grandma used to bake something like this and since then it hadn’t left your mind. seungmin took the bun from your hand, his fingers slightly brushing it, and you got shivers from that one innocent touch. you observed him as he took a small bite, not sure what to expect, and you exhaled loudly when he grinned. you‘d never seen him smile that widely, but now he was and oh my god what was happening to you? “it’s… it’s really good, a solid ten. i like how soft it is,” he explained, visibly satisfied. you mirrored his smile, really glad that he enjoyed your little experiment. “oh, yn, actually there’s something i was meaning to ask you, uh… it might sound a little weird, but could you maybe teach me how to bake?” you were caught off guard by his question, but actually why not? this way you could get closer to him, maybe get to know him even more. that’s why you agreed and gave him your number so you could work out the details. 

seungmin came to your apartment a few days later. “here, i made you some coffee,” he said while handing you the cup. “thank you… um, here, welcome, make yourself at home.” you led him to your kitchen and gave him an apron. he looked at you confused, but you just rushed him with a gesture of your hand. “come on, put in on, unless you want to be covered in the dough.” he obediently took it from your hand and did as you said. he looked really cute in it and you felt the tips of your ears getting warmer. then you proceeded to put on your own apron as well and you got to work. 

seungmin was a fast learner, though he needed your constant assistance. you told him what to do step by step and he was quietly following your instructions. there was something so intriguing in the way he was paying attention to the details, trying not to put too much flour in the bowl and not to spill the melted butter from the pot. you watched him stir the ingredients, his arms full on display since he rolled up his sleeves. “what’s next?” his voice brought you back to earth and you slightly shook your head. “uh… now you have to knead the dough with your hand, until it’s all soft and even.” he nodded and started to knead it, but you noticed he was doing it a bit too gently. “wait, let me help you.” you stood behind him, your chest pressed to his back, and you placed your hand on his to knead the dough together. seungmin was glad you didn’t see his face, because it was covered in bright red. “see, like this. you don’t have to be aggressive, but it’s important to mix everything well.” it was such an intimate moment and you thought for a while if you didn’t overstep his boundaries, but he didn’t seem to mind it. “and done!” you took a step back and seungmin turned to face you. you noticed he had some flour on his chin so you leaned over and gently wiped it with your palm. you were met with seungmin’s piercing gaze and it was only then you realised how close to him you were. “can i do something stupid?” he whispered suddenly and you nodded. and that’s when you felt his lips met yours. the kiss was soft, his lips were moving slowly, almost lazily, but you enjoyed every single moment of it. when you backed off a bit, he grinned and you heard him mumble. “you’re sweeter than any pastry in this world”

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

[punkshort]

Chapter One

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

April 2003

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, as the subway lurched forward, catching you off guard.

Today was the first day of your new job at a big-time construction company in downtown Manhattan. You had just moved to NYC a couple months ago, and this job was the first place that made you a reasonable offer. You were beginning to work through the last of your savings and getting sick of bumming it on your old college dormmate’s couch, so you eagerly accepted the position. The last thing you wanted to do was ask your parents for money – they were already so worried about you living in New York and working in Manhattan.

You thought back to when you called your mom and dad to tell them you finally got a job offer, so excited to tell them you could get your very own place if it all worked out.

“But Baby, don’t you think it’s a little dangerous working down there after what happened?” your mom had begged on the phone.

"Mom, please don’t worry, this building is nowhere near as big, this one only has 10 floors, I promise I will be ok,” you pleaded, hoping she won’t guilt trip you into moving back to the suburbs of Chicago.

You had always been a quiet, shy, studious type. Your parents always joked you would live with them til you were 40, never one to party or do anything bad. Needless to say, when you announced after graduation you wanted to move to New York, your whole family was stunned. You were pretty sure they expected you to chicken out, or move back home after a month, but you had a dream and you were determined.

Suddenly, the tinny voice over the subway speaker broke into your reverie, announcing your stop. You filed out of the packed car with loads of others who look like they were all going to similar corporate jobs. You tugged anxiously on the sleeve of your blazer as you made your way up the stairs and out onto the street. The crisp spring air that hit your face was a welcome change to the stuffy, overpacked subway car you had just left.

Lucky for you, Miller & Miller Contracting, Inc. was a mere 3 blocks from the subway. Your heels clicked loudly in your ears as you approached the building with ten minutes to spare. Relief began to wash over you a bit when you realized you planned the commute perfectly. You hated being late.

You pushed the door open into the lobby, approaching a large desk with two receptionists. Both were talking animatedly on their headsets and transferring calls. Patiently waiting for one of them to be available, you casually glanced around the lobby to avoid looking as nervous as you felt. The lobby itself was beautiful: it was completely open all the way to the top floor, with the glass elevator shaft behind the reception desk. The front of the building also was all glass, so that it afforded a beautiful view as the elevator took you up to your destination.

“Can I help you?” one of the receptionists called out. She had curly, short blonde hair, thin, and was impeccably dressed.

"Yes! I’m sorry, yes, it’s my first day in accounting. I am supposed to be meeting Heather, my name is –“ the receptionist cut you off, guessing your name before you could even finish your sentence. You confirmed who you were, and she got up to come around the desk.

"I’m taking the newbie upstairs to accounting, I’ll be right back, need anything?” she called back over her shoulder to her long haired, brunette cohort.

The slightly older receptionist shook her head in acknowledgment, still listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone call.

The receptionist who greeted you smiled and stuck out her hand.

"I’m Maggie, it’s nice to meet you. Come around to the elevator, I’ll take you up to Heather.”

She led you around the back of her desk to the elevator bank, her curly hair bobbed as her heels clicked on the dark tile floor. She began rattling off questions and information, no doubt a side effect of her job, and possibly caffeine, as you waited next to her for the elevator to arrive.

"How old are you? Are you from New York? Do you know anyone who works here? I’m always so excited when someone new joins, sorry if I’m making you nervous!  It’s a fun place to work, it really is, there’s a lot of great people here. I know your position can be a tough one, so please give it a chance, I swear it’s worth it.” She paused for a minute, realizing she might be scaring you off, as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“Uhhh,” you stammered, trying to absorb the last bit of information without looking concerned, and stepped into the empty car. Maggie stabbed the button for the 6th floor as you replied.

"I’m 25, it’s my first ‘real’ job out of college, I just mainly had internships before now, and they hardly paid much. I’m glad I can finally stop couch surfing. I am from a small town outside Chicago, I went to school there and I’ve always wanted to live in New York. My old college roommate already lived here, so I decided to give it a shot,” you paused for a moment as Maggie nodded along eagerly with your story. You frowned slightly.

"I’m sorry, what did you mean when you said-" Right then, the elevator doors pinged to floor 6, opening up to an empty hallway.

“OK we’re here! Follow me!” Maggie cut you off, and whisked you down the hallway, which took you to an open floorplan filled with cubes upon cubes of bustling employees. Some were chatting between their desks, others were hurriedly talking on the phone, and some mindlessly scrolling on their computers.

Maggie led you to the back wall, which consisted mostly of offices, and what looked to be conference rooms in one end. She turned left as you rushed to keep up while trying to absorb your surroundings. You nearly smacked into her when she came to an abrupt stop in front of a partially open office door. She knocked gently, smiling at the person inside.

“Good morning, Heather! I have your new hire here,” she gestured towards you and waved you over. There sat Heather, your new boss, who you had only met when you interviewed with her and HR. Her mid length dirty blonde hair was perfectly in place, bangs framing her face, just like the day you met. She was probably about 15 years older than you, but she looked like she could pass for around your age. She was very trim, wearing a form fitting black dress with strappy sandals, and her makeup looked impeccable. If it wasn’t for the old fashioned hair style, she could pass for around 30.

You stepped into Heather’s office, which you hadn’t seen when you interviewed with her a couple weeks back. It was small, but it had a decent view, which was to Heather’s back as she stood from her desk to greet you warmly by your name and thank you for being so punctual. She glanced behind you at Maggie and thanked her for showing you up, effectively dismissing her. You turned back to wave your thanks to Maggie, but she was already gone, heels echoing down the hallway back towards the elevator.

“Alright! Follow me, I will take you to the rest of the department and introduce you to everyone,” she motioned for you to follow her out of her office. Being the Controller, she had her own personal space away from the rest of the group, which you found was not too far away from her office. Heather led you back the way you came but kept going straight along the wall of offices, talking to you over her shoulder as she walked.

"I hope you made it in OK, I’m so glad the sun is out this morning! I was getting sick of all that rain, this weekend was such a drag with all the dreary weather.” You hummed your agreement and assured her you made it in just fine, not letting it be known you were overanalyzing your commute all weekend long.

Heather stopped at the corner of the floor, punched a personalized code into a keypad next to a door and opened it. You had initially thought it could be a conference room, but in fact it turned out to be a decently sized room filled with cubes, some filing cabinets, and a small safe. You glanced around at the room of about ten employees hard at work, heads mostly down or on the phone. Two girls around your age who were seated next to each other in the corner of the room quickly quieted down their chatter, and looked in your direction when you walked in. You gave a shy smile towards them as Heather addressed the department.

“Good morning gang, this is our new Accounts Receivables Specialist,” she turned towards you, announcing your name to the group. “Please make her feel welcome, if you don’t mind showing her around where the bathrooms and coffee are, I would appreciate it. I have a meeting this morning with the big guy I need to get ready for, I’m sorry I couldn’t do it myself.” She turned back to you apologetically.

"We have a great, tightknit team here, they'll show you the ropes. This is your desk,” she led you over near the corner of the room where the two girls had been chatting. “I already stocked it with some paper and pens, but we do have a supply closet on this floor if you need anything else, and Colleen is going to be your trainer.”

She motioned over to one of the two chatty girls, who bounced over with a smile and an outstretched hand. You shook it, reintroducing yourself warmly as Heather made her exit.

"Again, sorry guys, I have a meeting with Joel, and you know how he is.” She rolled her eyes, and she was met with some chuckles and a couple looks of sympathy. Heather gave you a final wave and a promise to return around lunchtime to check in, and left through the same door you came in, with it locking shut behind her.

Colleen must have been around your age, her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and she had curious, bright blue eyes. She was wearing a business casual, knee length, light pink dress that was perfect for the beautiful spring day. You felt a bit out of place in your navy blazer and matching navy dress pants, but you wanted to look your most professional on your first day.

Colleen began to explain you will be shadowing her for the morning, getting you used to the software system they used, how to look up accounts, and where important files are stored. You learned Colleen was working in Accounts Payables, opposite your job. You realized the two of you will be working closely together, and connected the dots on why Heather chose her to train you, vaguely wondering who had your position prior.

As you pulled your rolling chair up to her desk to observe, notepad and pen in hand, you coolly questioned who Joel was, and what the reaction was all about. Colleen seemed the type that liked to gossip more than work, and she excitedly settled in to explain all the office politics to you.

“OK, so, Joel and Tommy run the company, they are brothers – Miller & Miller, get it?” she began, smiling brightly at you. “Tommy is SO much nicer than Joel, he is the one who schmoozes all of the new clients and signs all the new business. Joel is, well…” she trailed off, hands flailing gently, searching for an appropriate word to describe the head of the company without scaring off a new hire. “He can be challenging to work with sometimes, but don’t worry, you won’t have to work with him one-on-one. We have monthly meetings with him as a department, it’s a lot easier to handle him as a group, most of the time.”

“How do you mean, ‘challenging’?” you pressed, leaning forward, hoping to learn more about what you were getting into, not that you had much of a choice if you wanted to continue to live in the city. “Do you mean he just asks a lot of questions, or…?” Colleen picked up where you left off.

He’s mean,” she stated bluntly, smile faltering slightly. “He has made employees cry before, and he has caused people to quit on the spot during his meetings. He’s tough, but he’s the guy who goes to the job sites and makes sure everything is running smoothly. Unfortunately, that type of personality, especially from a man, on those construction sites is exactly what they need to make sure nobody is slacking off and cutting corners. They are too scared of him to screw up!” she laughed, trying to ease any nervousness she caused you.

You leaned back in your chair, gaze drifting aimlessly around her desk as you absorb what she told you. Before you could add anything further, the other girl Colleen had been chatting with earlier piped up from the adjoining cube.

“He’s an asshole. If he ever does say anything hurtful towards you, you have to just let it roll off your shoulders. That’s why Heather is so good in her position, she has to be one-on-one with him a lot, and she can handle his shit much better than most,” the redhead, whose name you saw on the outside of her cube was Debbie, gruffly interrupted. You could tell she was the opposite of Colleen – while Colleen is bubbly and sweet, Debbie seemed tougher and had an edge, although she still seemed just as friendly as she continued to help paint the picture of the mysterious Joel Miller.

“At the end of the day, you have to keep in mind we are not out here saving lives. We are working in accounting at a construction company. He gets so heated and spouts off at the mouth like this company is saving the world," Debbie finished explaining with a huff. She rolled her green eyes, crossed her arms over her chest and glared off at a fixed point on the wall beside her.

“Debbie is right, but she is just extra emotional about it because the girl in your position before had a run in with Joel, and she quit. Cheryl was Debbie’s best friend here, so she is just a little sore over it still.” Colleen tried to explain gently, without upsetting Debbie more.

Debbie nodded in agreement, sighing, she leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees, she dragged her eyes away from the wall to look at the two of you.

"She’s right. Cheryl didn’t deserve that from him, but she did what was best for her when she quit. It happens a lot, I just thought Cheryl was used to it. She had been here 8 years!” Debbie exclaimed, throwing up her hands with frustration. 

You gulped and began to get nervous, not really sure what to say. All you could hope was that maybe you didn’t have to have one-on-one time with Joel. You just knew you needed to keep this job, or else you were packing your bags and moving back home. Your hands started fidgeting on your lap, and you chewed your bottom lip slightly as you took in the information.

“Well, thanks for the warning, girls, I will do my best to keep my head down and stay below the radar,” you chuckled quietly, hoping to ease some of the tension and change the topic.

Debbie smiled at you, a little sadly.

"That's a good plan, but since you are in receivables, Joel may put you on the spot in some of our meetings and want to know what the payment status is on specific clients of his. Heather will typically field those questions if she knows the information beforehand, but if he catches you off guard like he did with Cheryl…” she drifted off, allowing you to connect the dots on your own. “Just keep your guard up, and go into those meetings with TONS of notes on all his clients, that is the best advice I can give you. And let Heather do all the talking.” With that, Debbie scooted her chair back to her computer to get back to work.

Your eyes probably gave away your nervousness when you turned back to Colleen. She smiled warmly at you and patted you gently on the knee. “Don’t worry about it, I promise it's not as bad as it seems. Like Debbie said, Heather fields most of Joel’s questions directly. Plus, we just had our monthly meeting with him last week. You won’t have to cross paths with him for another month.” Colleen turned back to her computer and started explaining the accounting software to you.

You were really only half listening as your panic was bubbling just below the surface, replaying Debbie’s words in your head while you tried to focus on what Colleen was teaching you. You were beginning to understand why this place offered you the job so quickly, you just hoped you could be tough enough to get through those monthly meetings.

Chapter Two

[romanscool]

Loscar. 36. As a promise,,, please

#36: a kiss as a promise - loscar: sfw (kinda?)

hi anon!! thank you so much for this!! this is my first time writing loscar, and I'm such a big fan of them I don't know why it took me so long to write their pairing but. now it's done.

hope you like it as much as I do!

->

« What the fuck is that Oscar? » 

Oscar turns his head. He’s been watching a shit American show all day, and suddenly feels very self-conscious about it. Like Logan is talking about the two cringe-worthy characters talking on the TV, or Oscar actually enjoying it. He turns off the TV. « What? » He has a mouth full of overcooked pasta as he says this, so he swallows before repeating himself. « What was that? »

« Uh, » Logan walks towards Oscar, giant steps that almost make the whole building shake, and waggles his phone in front of him. Close. So close Oscar’s nose almost bumps on the screen and so close he also can’t see shit on it. « This? » 

Oscar manages to take Logan’s phone from his hands, though his fingertips were gripped so tightly on it it was a hard thing to do. There’s Twitter opened. Oscar’s account for that matter. « Yeah? What about it, Lo? »

« What about-, » Logan shakes his head and hops over the back of the couch to sit next to Oscar. He scoffs, eyes big and blue, and takes Oscar’s face in his hands, warm palms heating up Oscar’s cheeks even though it’s summer, and it’s unusually hot for England. « Oscar, what the fuck. »

Logan takes his hands off Oscar’s face, and Oscar almost whines at the loss, but he’s already been doing too much of that today watching his shit show, so he doesn’t. He settles for quiet disappointment and watches as his boyfriend fumbles to open his phone. « Fucking Face ID-, there. » Logan stops for a second, turns the screen back to Oscar, pointing a finger at it, but Oscar just shrugs. He doesn’t know what’s so weird Logan’s making a big deal out of it. 

Logan seems to understand that, so he scoffs again, and Oscar can see his dirty blonde hair fall a bit with the motion, smooth and probably salty because they’ve been at the beach yesterday. Oscar thinks he can still smell it. 

After a couple seconds of that, Logan clears his throat and starts talking again, but with the kind of voice you take the you recite something in school. It’s only after the first sentence that Oscar realizes Logan is reading his own tweet to him. « I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press release late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. » It sounds weird coming out of Logan’s mouth, all American accent dulling the words. It’s certainly not how Oscar imagined it in his head when he wrote it out. But then again, he is Australian, so. « This is wrong and I have not signed a contract with Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year. » Logan turns his face up from the screen, small spots on his jaw brightened by the light of it. « What the fuck is that, mate. » 

« Don’t call me ‘mate’. » Oscar says. It’s been a while since Logan’s called him that. « And, yeah, so what? » 

« I don’t-, » Logan sighs a quick breath, snappy and a little desperate, « Oscar, why would you not? »

« Drive for Alpine? » 

« Drive in F1. » 

Oh. Yeah. Logan doesn’t know, yet. « Ah. » Oscar says. Well, it’s more of a sound that he lets out, eyes looking everywhere except Logan’s face, eyes, fucking black eyelashes like Logan’s wearing mascara even though it’s past eight, because Oscar can’t really muster anything else than this at the moment. He’s not really allowed to, either. 

Logan chuckles but it’s pretty damn clear it’s not out of humor. He kind of looks like he’s freaking out. « Don’t ‘ah’ me, babe. What are you thinking? »

Oscar doesn’t answer. It pains him that he can’t. Legally. He would literally breach a contract he’s signed a couple days ago if he did. But. He doesn’t actually have to say it, does he?

He shifts on the sofa and takes another mouthful of pasta. The fork clings on his teeth. Logan winces at the sound.

« I’m not gonna drive for Alpine in F1 next year. » Oscar blurts out. He tries to make the subtext sound like ‘but it doesn’t mean I won’t be driving with another team’ but clearly it doesn’t because Logan just looks at him with big wide eyes. Mouth agape and eyebrows only slightly furrowed. 

« Yeah, I got that, thanks. » Logan is incredulous, Oscar realizes. He kind of understands why though. He would be too if Logan said to him he’d rejected an offer from Williams, a team that he’s been part of for two years now. Just like Oscar with Alpine. Yeah, Oscar realizes what he’s doing is perhaps a little fucked up. « What I wanna know is why. » Logan emphasizes the word, head and whole body going down with the word. 

Oscar can’t answer. « Dunno. » He registers what he’s said only after he’s said it, and yeah, that’s not helping his case at all.

« What, » Logan shifts to sit half criss-cross, body fully turned to face Oscar now. He takes the fork out of Oscar’s hand and places it back in his plate. It makes a weird cold splotch sound when it touches the pasta left in it. « the fuck. »

Oscar looks at his now most likely cold pasta then back at Logan. He wait a couple seconds. Has to count them to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like break a fucking contract. One, two. He doesn’t know what to do after, though, so he just. Plays with the tie of his shorts. 

He can’t see Logan that way. So, he also can’t let himself fall for the puppy eyes and soft, so soft expression he probably wears on his face, because of course Logan knows how to make him talk. Oscar just watches as his pointer finger goes through one loop and out of another, watches his ring finger gets chocked with the little string lace. 

They don’t talk for a moment. Oscar hears the ruffling of the couch’s material as Logan shifts again, and can feel the warmth of Logan’s palms on each of his knees. He doesn’t look up. He congratulates himself for being so resilient. 

« Fine. » Logan says, and Oscar looks up, and fuck, « Have it your way. But, » Logan runs his palm over the hair standing on the bottom of Oscar’s thigh, and Oscar shivers a little. He tells himself it’s because the night is getting a little colder by the minute and not because Logan’s blue eyes and gentle tone is turning him on. Because he knows he shouldn’t be, especially since he’s keeping such a big secret from said boyfriend. « you won’t stop me from dragging it out of you. » 

And, yeah, Oscar knew it. He’s a weak, weak man. He lets Logan kiss him softly, lets his adventurous fingers roam just a little higher than they should be on non-special nights like this and even enjoys it. Enjoys the little sound Logan’s mouth makes when his lips leave Oscar’s cheeks, and jaw, and suddenly Logan’s fingers are very close to where Oscar knows is danger zone when keeping a secret, so he stops him. 

Logan stops. Well, pulls his hands out of Oscar’s shorts and nudges them on each side of his waist instead. Lowers his mouth just under Oscar’s ear and Oscar is done for. « Wait, wait-, » He closes his eyes, involuntarily gives Logan more space to explore by tilting his head to the side. Oscar catches himself doing that, so he lifts a hand a places it on Logan’s hair, fingers threading through the fine strands of golden, and pulls just a little. « Logan. » 

« Yeah? » Logan’s voice is soft. Eyes doe-y, and the hint of a smile driving Oscar crazy. Jesus Christ. 

Oscar is a weak man. Especially when Logan’s feather-light touch on each side of his ribs is becoming just slightly heavier and his eyes a little darker. « I’ll tell you. » Logan rubs his palms over the spot they’re rested. Oscar’s voice catches in his throat. « I’m driving in F1 next year. » 

Logan’s brows furrows. His smile has turned down a little, but not so much that he looks upset. He just seems, careful. « But you rejected Alpine’s offer? »

« Yeah I did. » Oscar’s voice is still a little breathy, and he knows his cheeks are as red as when he gets out of the car after Singapore, but he doesn’t really care. Because Logan’s eyes are starting to light up. Understand.

« Fuck, are you, like-, are you? » Logan’s rambling a little, gaze locked with Oscar’s, hands starting to hold just a little too tight, « Oscar. You signed? » 

Oscar nods. He’s still a little hazed out, and still can’t quite believe he did draw his signature on a Formula One contract just a few days ago. It feels all pretty unreal. Four years ago, he was still just a high school kid with too much homework and a dream that a little part of him didn’t believe he could fulfill. « Yeah, Lo. I did, yeah. » 

Logan nips slightly at his bottom lip. « You’re not joking? » 

« No, I’m not. » Oscar starts to giggle, a little because of the adrenaline, a little because Logan is chuckling himself, a little because he’s happy. 

Logan is full on laughing now. His eyes are glossy, like he’s the one that signed to drive in F1 next year. Oscar hopes it’s the case. He doesn’t want to let go of this. « Fuck, Oscar, that’s, » He takes Oscar’s face in his palms again. Oscar can feel the little layer of sweat on them, but it’s not like he cares. Logan stills for a moment, and bursts out laughing, little droplets of tears starting to gather on each side of his eyes.

« What? » Oscar asks, laughing too, hands finding Logan’s shoulders.

« Fuck, sorry, » Logan says in between pants, cheeks streaked with wet happiness, « I’ve just. I’ve had this image of like, me cheering you from the garage. » He chuckles again, « Like a WAG or something. » 

It’s Oscar’s turn to laugh, now. Head falling forwards so quickly he almost hits his chest with his chin. And he’s not even laughing because it’s ridiculous, or because Logan would probably not be allowed in Oscar’s team garage because of his own contract with Williams and Prema, but because he can actually see it. He’d kind of like it. Logan, watching him on those big TVs. He’d like it better if he was racing him, though. 

« Wait. » Logan’s voice breaks through the laughter. « Which team is it? » 

Oscar bites the inside of his cheek. That’s the part where he’s really breaching the contract. If the team found out he’d be so fucked. So, naturally, he makes Logan- « Guess. »

« Oscar. » Logan’s voice draws out his name, but Oscar has been weak enough today. Between the shit series and whatever happened a couple minutes ago, he thinks he is allowed to tease Logan a little. Logan just rolls his eyes at him. He lets his hand fall back to Oscar’s thigh, scratching there a little. « Well, I know you’ve been in talks with Alpine, but, yeah. I think we can forget about that one. And uh, » He cocks his head to the side, deep in thought, « you’ve not told me much more. Wait, » His face turns back quickly. Oscar can see he’s got it. « Is it Mclaren? » 

Oscar’s mouth lets out a breathy « Yeah. » before Oscar can think it through. He’s done it. 

Logan’s eyes widen. His smile too. « Oscar. » 

« I know. » Oscar’s voice is a little high pitched. He shifts his legs again, because the left one is starting to cramp a bit, but it just tingles painfully after that. Logan’s fingers hop from Oscar’s thighs to his fingers. 

After a few giggles, they settle in a quiet atmosphere for a moment. It’s gentle. Soft. Warm. It’s everything it always is with Logan. It’s everything Oscar’s ever wanted.

But then, Oscar can see Logan wants to say something. His mouth pouts a little on the side, and his chest takes big breaths that he doesn’t usually take, and then there it is, «  Nothing’s gonna change, though, right? »

And yeah, Oscar was scared of that, too. Was. He isn’t anymore. He knows they’re stronger than that. « Of course, Lo. » 

His voice is a little scratchy. Even Oscar can hear it. A little crack at the end, on Logan’s nickname. Because Oscar knows how this works. He’s seen it too many times to ignore it. The world is no longer mysterious, in that way. 

But, he likes to think nothing will ever change. Is that such a bad thing?

Logan’s finger catches on Oscar’s splintered nail. « You promise? »

Oscar’s heart pulls at the words. « Yeah, I promise. » Logan’s eyes come up again. The blue is glowing a little yellow from the kitchen light. He looks as beautiful as he always does. That will never change, Oscar thinks. « I promise. » 

Oscar’s palms find Logan’s shoulders again, and he just has to kiss him. Just to prove him how much he means it. He knows his tongue probably still tastes like overcooked pasta but Logan's taste like the iced latte he's had as a snack. Oscar presses his lips to Logan’s and silently prays they’ll be able to do this for the rest of their life. 

again, thank you so much for requesting this!! I've allowed myself to mix in a little #10: to get them to talk, so yeah, it's been a fun journey

you can find the rest of this little series on ao3!

don't hesitate to ask me for more kiss/non kiss prompts, I always appreciate writing those,,,

lots of love <33

[writteninlunarlight-years]

~~~~~ MATCHUP ~~~~~

This is a match-up for my very, very, very patient follower. Thank you so much for supporting me, and I am sorry this has taken so long!

This is for you, @literallurker, everyone. Go give them some love if you have the time!

HAZBIN HOTEL

Husk

~~~~~ HEADCANON ~~~~~

Husk is just the bartender. He knows everyone's woes and problems, all the dirt and tea. He is even wise and beyond his years.

When you came to the hotel, he saw you as everyone else; the only bright side was that you didn't flirt with him 24/7 like the spider.

You were too quiet for his liking; you just sat there with your drink, observing everyone and him.

This leads to the beginning of your relationship, Husk's dying curiosity to know what was in that head.

From the first conversation, everything was short and small, with little discussions here and there. As you grew more comfortable, you started letting your wild side out.

Husk was open to some of your wilder ideas; they were funny and could prove entertaining.

When Husk opened up to you about his contract, he was happy to see you not look down on him but instead help him problem-solve how to get out of this without the radio demons' knowledge, of course.

As you two bonded, you kept each other up on the gossip of the other residents, what you heard in the hall, and what he heard at the bar top.

When Husk finally admitted his feelings you were elated to say the least, you two shared a lot with one another and stuck through some pretty insane pranks.

When battling the angels, Husk was by your side, watching your back the whole time.

He's not a big bird person, but he learns to love your parrot for you. (It's totally not because he got close to the bird and really truly cares for it; it's not that at all.)

~~~~~ BLURB ~~~~~

It was a quiet day in the hotel; Angel was out on a job, Charlie and her girlfriend were recruiting sinners, and the radio demon was out with Rosie. This only left you, Husk, and Nifty here. Nifty was off playing with some cockroaches, though,,, so it was just you and Husk. You didn't mind it. Charlie had been going overkill on all the redeeming stuff lately after Sir Pentious. You and Husk rarely have alone time once everyone learned about your relationship. While drinking your glass of alcohol, Husk informed you about the mishap Chalrie just had with a random sinner. In the middle of his story his phone went off, it was Charlie needing him to restock something in the hotel.

Sighing, you watched Husk rush out to grab what he needed. It was silent.... too silent.....you didn't like it. Thoughts started to gnaw on your mind from when you died to now. You felt small. It was getting bad, as you drifted off in space you didn't even notice the return of Husk from his errand. Husk knew you hated to be alone. He should have offered for you to go with him. He snapped his fingers in front of your face to pull you out of your trance. "Hey, I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to leave you alone for so long. Come on, talk to me. Let's get you out of that head of yours." You nodded and started, telling him about the time you successfully put lipstick on Angel's pig just because Alastor told you you couldn't.

Throughout your stories, you felt the gnaw of loneliness seep away. Husk always did that for you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Even on nights when he was supposed to be at the bar, he would sneak his way to your room and talk with you for hours until you finally fell asleep. Though he was a drunk, grumpy cat, he was always prepared to help his friends out, especially his closest companion, you.

~~~~~ EXTRA ~~~~~

(It's time for another fun Charlie exercise. Today's game uses the first letter of your name to correspond to an animal.)

Angel: Charlie, this is stupid.

Charlie: It's not stupid, Angel. Come on, look how easy it is. My name is Charlie, and I like Cats! See.

Angel: No, it's foolish.

Husk: My name is Husk and I like Hennesy.

Y/N: (Breaks down laughing) T-Thats not an animal.

Husk: It's the first letter of my name, ain't it.

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #12

Candy Crush 🍬 / Eldritch Nightmares 👁️

It was Patrick’s idea to put a candy bowl out at the front of the store, years ago when they’d first opened, to make it seem friendlier to families with children and people who might feel intimidated by the phrases body milk or facial polish. 

“Um, I don’t know how to tell you this,” David had hedged, wringing his hands together, “but my vision for the store is actually not that family-friendly.”

Patrick had laughed. “Oh, I know,” he’d said. “But that’s not good business for a community like this one, so we’ve gotta sand down your edges juuuuust a little.”

David had complained then, but it’s been a long time since then, and he and Patrick have come a long way, if the rings on their fingers are anything to go by, and Patrick has also been pretty judicious about sanding down his own edges, so David feels like maybe the scales are even now. Well — the metaphorical scales between them, at least. Patrick is certainly tipping actual, literal scales. And soon, David’s going to sweet-talk him into getting onto the old-fashioned balance scale he found on Etsy for entirely too much money and keeps in the storeroom for um, reasons, the main one being that Patrick says it’s way too unsubtle to keep in the house. Which isn’t totally unmerited, because the one time Alexis had slipped into the storeroom looking for the wine stock, she’d seen it in the corner and had made fun of David over text about it all day, and the last thing he needs is a repeat performance every time he hosts a holiday or has her over for brunch. 

Anyway. The scale stays. It has its uses. 

And, David is finding, so does the candy bowl.

“You know, this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested it,” Patrick remarks as David does a lap around the store, straightening display items and making lines of product uniform, and casually grabs a fistful of candy on his way back around to the register. “I know you’re morally opposed to children in the store, but commandeering the candy isn’t going to prevent their presence.”

David unwraps a mini Snickers bar. “It’s not for me,” he persuades, brushing it against Patrick’s lips. “How far did you say you were from your goal weight?”

A pink tinge heats in Patrick’s round cheeks. “Not fair, David. Engaging in kink at work is not in our business contract.”

“Our marriage contract, on the other hand …” David wheedles, walking his fingers up Patrick’s big belly. “I just think that since we’re paying for the candy, we should get to enjoy some of it, too.”

Patrick’s lips are curling up at the corners, which means David’s almost got him convinced. “We could enjoy it at home.”

“Okay,” says David, “it’s not like I haven’t also proved that I am very willing to provide you with candy at home, too.”

“Provide,” echoes Patrick. “I think ‘shower’ would be the more accurate term.”

David drops his hand to grab at the doughy rolls that spill over Patrick’s belt. “I just think that you’re passing up a very attractive offer. Especially if it stays this quiet. You need something to focus on if the weather keeps everyone out.”

As if on cue, the rain outside gets louder and heavier. Patrick casts a sideways look at David. “Why do I feel like you choreographed that?”

“Um,” says David, trying and failing to look innocent. “Because I have a gifted sense of dramatic timing?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” says Patrick, and he finally takes the candy from David’s hand. “Okay. You get to do this today, but we shut it down if someone comes in.”

“Very fair,” allows David, already on his way back to the candy bowl.

—

It rains all week, and if Patrick weren’t the one in charge of handling their finances and making everything balance out at the end of each month, David would be worried. As it is, he’s already making mental lists of Costco goods they have on hand if the store goes under. And sort of regretting all the Sarah McLachlan he put on the store playlist.

“Hey,” says Patrick, nudging him with his shoulder where he’s standing by the register, nose only inches away from the rain-streaked window. “What’s the face for?”

David furrows his brows. “Am I making a face?”

“Yeah. A glum plum kind of face. I can see it in your reflection.” There’s the creak that David has come to recognize as Patrick settling his considerable weight onto the metal stool they keep behind the counter, mostly because David is too old to be standing all day but refuses to choose footwear with arch support. Patrick, for all of his impressive size, has pretty good endurance, probably because he still hikes every other weekend and religiously puts those gross little orthotic inserts in his Dockers.

“Okay,” says David, “it’s not that I’m, like, glum, per se, and I know that, like, this store is not exactly the staple establishment that the general store was, but it’s been, like, several days since we’ve had more than one person in here, and it’s getting, like, a tad  worrying.”

“David,” says Patrick, in that soft, smooth, reassuring way he has. “The store will be fine. We will be fine. The fact that we don’t have to pay rent on this space puts us a lot closer to breaking even than we would be if we were in that strip mall in Elm Glen.”

“Excuse you, I would never have rented space in a strip mall. Let alone one that still has a Radio Shack.”

“It’s just an example,” says Patrick, except now it sounds like his mouth is full. David pulls his gaze away from the rain-soaked square and the music video in his head. 

Patrick’s got a pile of fun-size candy bars piled on the counter next to him, and he’s unwrapping another as he chews.

“Oh, now you’re on board,” says David, crossing his arms. “A final plea for my goodwill as our business goes under, I see.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “The business is not going under, David. I won’t let it. I know you need to be kept in luxury skincare and cashmere.”

“My skin is very delicate.”

“I know,” says Patrick, leaning forward to pat his cheek. His belly cants forward in his lap, sagging forward to dip farther between his thighs. And his thighs, god — his thighs, pushed even wider from the way he’s sitting on the stool, are heavy with cellulite that, in the right lighting, David can even see through his khakis sometimes. “Trust me on this one, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

David plucks a candy bar from the pile. “I’m choosing to interpret this as your way of saying that my taking care of you at work is now on the table.”

Patrick lets him pop the candy bar into his mouth. “I’ll let you have that,” he says finally. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“At the end of the month, you put me on that very expensive Etsy scale.”

“Yes,” David says breathlessly. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Also, I’m changing the playlist. The energy in here is grim.”

—

Patrick groans and lifts his belly so that it sits in a wobbly mound on the counter. David’s head snaps up instantly from fussing with the layout of the towels.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hurrying over, and Patrick nods, massaging his underbelly.

“I think I need to let my belt out another notch.”

“Oh,” breathes David, and Patrick grins. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”

“No one’s coming in,” says David, grabbing the box cutter from under the till. “We could go do it in the back. Or I can watch the register while you do it.”

“It doesn’t have to be right now,” says Patrick with a little smile. “I’ll live until we get home.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be uncomfortable,” David tuts. “When was the last time you had to loosen it?”

Patrick rubs at his soft chin where it doubles. “Man, a while ago. Around three-eighty, maybe? I’m on the last hole of this one, so buckle up.”

Not even the pun can stop David from whining and instinctively grabbing a mini Twix from the stash he’s begun to keep at the counter to shove in Patrick’s mouth. “How much do you think that is?”

“I don’t know, twenty pounds or so? Twenty-five? We could probably figure out how many pounds per hole if we wanted to. Could be some fun math.”

“Okay,” says David, pointing the Twix at him, “I love you so much and I desperately want you to outgrow all of your belts, but I must blacklist the phrase ‘fun math’ from our relationship.”

“Oh, I’ll do the math,” says Patrick, accepting the Twix bar. “You can just enjoy my findings.”

For that, he gets another Twix before he’s even done with the first. 

— 

The rain continues. The candy bowl ebbs lower every day, despite how often David refills it. By the week before Halloween, Patrick can’t do up even his largest belt, and his button-downs are starting to strain against the heavy sag of his belly. 

“I know it’s not the end of the month yet,” says David, somewhere between hesitant and hopeful, “but outgrowing your belts seems like a pretty sizable milestone, so I was thinking that maybe … we could …”

Patrick shoots him a knowing glance. “You just want to put me on the scale.”

“I mean, yes,” says David. “But it’s not like that will change, so we could always, you know, do it today and then again at the end of the month. It could be more incentive to, um, work towards your goals.”

There’s a long, agonizing pause as Patrick unwraps a Reese’s and pops it in his mouth. He makes David wait as he chews, and then he palms his belly and sets it jiggling as he swallows. 

“Mmmm,” he says, stretching his chubby arms over his head and letting not just his button-down, but his undershirt come untucked. His stomach tumbles out, pale and dimpled and perfect, and David experiences a rare moment of total speechlessness. 

“Oh my god,” he manages finally. “This is obviously a yes, right?”

“Yes, David,” says Patrick, squeezing his shoulder. “That’s a yes.”

He practically yanks Patrick into the back room and steers him toward the scale in the corner. Patrick steps on agreeably, then looks at David, who’s been too overcome by the idea of the scale to get weighed down by the particulars.

“Soooo,” he says, drawing the word out as he inspects the sliders and metal brackets and such. “I don’t … actually know … how to use this.”

“Oh, really?” says Patrick politely, and he somehow makes it sound like I know, David.

“I guess I can wait until we get home,” David sighs. “Excruciating as it may be.”

“Well, I have something I think might cheer you up,” says Patrick, stepping off the scale and hugging him from behind. The huge, plush weight of him suffuses David, and he feels the tension melt from his body as he sinks back into him. “I stood on the scale at home this morning, and we couldn’t read it even if we tried, because it zeroed out.”

David springs out of Patrick’s arms. “Oh my god, excuse me? And you were just going to keep this from me?”

Patrick’s struggling not to grin. “Let’s say I was just waiting to deploy that information at a specific time.”

“So we’ll have to replace that,” says David, not a question so much as a plan he’s making in permanent ink. “With a very high maximum. And I’m going to feed you as much of that candy bowl as I can before we close today. If you want that.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Patrick, folding David back into his arms. David nestles his head on Patrick’s shoulder and inhales, exhales his soft fresh air scent. “I want that.”

In the next room, the bell over the door goes off as someone enters the store. Patrick’s eyes go wide, and he hurriedly, lumpily tucks his shirt back in and makes for the counter. But even still, he turns around before he gets to the doorway and grins at David.

“See?” he says, nodding at the scale. “We’ll even be able to afford a nice one.”

[itzynabi]

just thinking

summary: in which eve talks to a friend

set: 20 nov 2023

word count: 1.2k

warnings: allusion to disasociation

an: listening to music that fits the weather is the only way i get scenarios done. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

eve’s masterlist

“I’m so glad we got to meet today.”

Eve nodded, smiling at her friend. “Even though we planned it last minute.”

Jiwoo laughed, throwing her head back. “With how busy our lives are, last minute is the only way.”

The two were in the latter girl’s apartment on the couch. Jiwoo had reached out to Eve, asking to hang out before they got really busy with their schedules. Ever since Jiwoo was on That’s So Evie, the two girls began talking more often.

“True, true,” Eve agreed.

“How are preparations for award shows?”

Eve groaned. “Hard. I have to learn all of these choreographies and dance breaks and intros. I also have to produce the intros, so… I’m very busy. The only reason I’m not at practice right now is because everyone has body aches, so we agreed to take the day off.”

“When are you going to Tokyo?” Jiwoo asked.

“In three days, I think. Then I’ll be there for a few days before coming back.”

Jiwoo sighed. “You’re so busy.”

Eve nodded wordlessly. “You’re also busy. Aren’t you going to America?”

“Oh! I am!” Jiwoo chuckled. “I forgot I’m having a showcase tour.”

“How’s that going?”

“I’m so excited! I can’t wait to see KKOTI’s and perform in front of them.” She wiggled her butt excitedly in her seated position.

“Are you going to sing My Palace on the tour?”

Jiwoo hummed, thinking. “I can’t remember,” she admitted, shaking her head once. “Should I sing My Palace?”

Eve nodded enthusiastically. “My Palace seriously… I love that song. I love the entire EP, I think it’s my favourite from this year.”

Jiwoo gasped. “Really?”

“Yeah. I love the visuals, the aesthetic, the sound — it’s so cohesive and put together. I really love it!”

Jiwoo nodded her head, tucking her hair behind her ears as she sat straighter, a sense of pride filling her posture. “Okay. I’m pretty sure I’m singing all of the songs, but I’ll make sure to do a special stage for My Palace.”

“Thank you,” Eve said sweetly, leaning towards Jiwoo as she spoke. “You’ll be making little girls happy.” She pointed at herself, causing Jiwoo to laugh.

“You’re not little, we’re the same age.”

Eve jokingly scoffed. “I know we’re the same age. We did STEP together.” She mentioned the stage for STEP they did with other idols born in 1999. Preparing for that stage was the first time they had a conversation that went past just pleasantries.

“Did you see Yoojungie cut her hair?” Jiwoo asked on a gasp.

“I saw. I was so shocked, but then I remembered I also cut my hair.” She giggled.

“Arinnie also…” Jiwoo trailed off. “It’s just me and Yena that didn’t cut our hair. Everyone else did.”

Eve nodded, quieting down. She suddenly felt her heart get heavy, dampening her mood as she began to stare blankly at the coffee table. Jiwoo’s voice began to sound muted as she noticed how the rectangular table had a small dent in it before everything started to blur around her.

The warm tingles on her body let her know that she was back. Those and Jiwoo’s alarmed voice.

“Nabi, are you okay?” She asked, her hand on Eve’s shoulder.

Eve blinked repeatedly, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just something that’s been happening recently, you don’t need to worry.”

“What was it?”

Eve opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I don’t know, I… It just happens whenever I get really stressed. But you don’t have to worry, it’s okay.” She raised her hand, placing it on Jiwoo’s to reassure the girl.

Jiwoo nodded, sitting back on her side of the couch. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Eve said, a tinge of sadness to her voice. Silence overtook the two girls. “How did you know you wanted to end your contract?” Eve suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Jiwoo looked at her stunned. She scratched her neck as she thought. “It’s not like I had an epiphany someday. I knew for a while that BBC wasn’t the company for me, but I continued because I love my members and I love being with them. But, they also knew that how I was being treated wasn’t right and told me that whatever I do, they’ll support me. With their support, I got the courage to file to end my contract,” she told Eve, tilting her head slightly when she finished. “Why do you ask?”

Eve shrugged. “I just… I’m thinking about my future.”

“... Do you want to end your contract?”

“I don’t know. I mean, yes. I don’t want to be made to constantly release albums all the time, but… I don’t want to leave ITZY.”

“Ending your contract doesn’t mean you leave the group. That’s a separate contract.”

“But you were removed from LOONA.”

Jiwoo nodded. “That was because BBC didn’t like the fact that I was speaking out about how they treated me. Even though I wasn’t in LOONA anymore, I was still in BBC because my personal contract hadn’t ended.”

“So… if I filed to end my contract and I won… I’d still be in ITZY?”

“Yeah. Unless your company decided otherwise.”

Eve frowned as she processed the information. “If I filed for it even though I still had schedules planned, would I still be able to do my schedules? Or would I have to stop?”

“I don’t know,” Jiwoo answered with a shrug.

“Okay,” Eve said before realising how the mood had dropped. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make the mood, like, sad. Sorry about that,” she apologised, chuckling weakly. “Um, I just have a lot on my mind, so… Had to get it out.”

“What upcoming schedules do you have?” Jiwoo asked.

“Um, award shows, obviously, ITZY’s comeback in January and… mine in February.” Thinly veiled anger coated her tone when she mentioned her comeback.

Jiwoo exhaled softly, understanding why Eve was contemplating ending her contract. “Well, if you want to end your contract, you’ll have to give the court a good reason and evidence to support those claims. You’ll probably also have to buy your own apartment or place to live, seeing as JYP Entertainment might not want to provide for you since you’re filing an injunction. It would also be good to look at other companies to sign to, but you’re already half signed to BH Entertainment, so you should be good.”

Eve looked up at Jiwoo, shocked by the advice she was giving her. “Thank you. But I don’t even know if I’ll do it, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Well, if you do do it, your members would understand. You should tell them what you’re thinking about,” she encouraged, “maybe it’ll be easier to make your decision once you know that they’re on your side.”

“Yeah… I’ll, uh, talk to them.” She blew raspberries. “Enough about sad things, though. Have you seen the video of the goat?”

“What goat?” Jiwoo asked, visibly scared.

Eve showed her the video and they proceeded to show each other funny animal videos until Eve had to leave because it was too late.

“Remember to talk to your members,” Jiwoo urged as Eve stood in the entryway of the apartment.

“Okay, I will. Have fun in America! Love you!” She said before leaving her friend’s apartment.

When she had made it to her car, she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

[🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️]

nabi [22:37] who’s up for some doran-doran?

yunayu [22:38] i’ll make popcorn!!!!!

tagging: @seolboba // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea // @smh-anon // @alixnsuperstxr // @cosmicwintr // @girlzwfun // @txt-yaomi // @moongrlz

©️ kim nabi

[dreamofbona]

rewrite the stars - sim jaeyun

summary: Choi Y/N has always dreamed of being an idol, and now her dream is coming true. As part of monster rookie girl group MAJ1K, she’s topping the charts, performing incredible stages, and feeling love from fans. She’s willing to do anything and everything to live her dream as an idol, and following the dating ban isn’t supposed to be an issue. She cares more about being an idol than she cares about love… until she meets Jake. From bumping into each other in company buildings to congratulating wins to eventually becoming MCs, she starts dreaming of something else. 

alternatively: can anyone resist sim jaeyun? + he likes you back. except you’re idols so drama.

pairing: jake x idol fem!reader

other characters: enhypen, kim chaewon, huh yunjin, jang wonyoung, txt, other hybe + starship artists

warnings: swearing, management is kind of evil so maybe threats of sabotage (will edit as we go along)

word count: 4.1 k

Chapter Two:

Your fancon is a success. Both nights sell out, and livestream tickets have been sold in the hundreds of thousands. Now, you and the girls are gearing up for your February comeback. You’re releasing another mini album - Love is Magic - on Valentine’s Day, and everyone at Tunez is stressed. This album has to be a hit after your successful debut. So far, pre orders have surpassed those of your debut, and it feels like everyone has their eyes on MAJ1K.

Days pass in the studio, in the practice room, and eventually you’re filming the music video for your new title track - ‘Black Magic’. It’s a song about using magic and falling in love. Typical bubblegum pop love song. You like the song, it’s fun and lively, and you think the public will like it as well. However, you hope that you’ll get to help write on the next album. You really want to perform music that you can relate to, that helps express you.

The comeback is teased and promoted, three concepts and member versions of the album have been announced and prepared. You can feel the stress radiating from your team whenever there’s a meeting: everything has to be perfect, this release has to be the release of the year. 

You’re grateful for a strong team that supports you as you want to do well, you want to leave a mark in the industry. At the same time, however, you hate that chart numbers and money are determining the direction your music is taking. You don’t want to make music for the charts; you want to make it for yourself, for your members, for your fans.

You keep your mouth shut, knowing that there’s no point in saying anything. You’d signed the contract willingly, chasing your dream of debuting, and nowhere in the contract did it say you could take part in deciding your music. You’d made your bed, and now you had to lie in it.

So days blew, and pretty soon it was comeback day. The comeback would be released on what was the evening of February 14th in Korea. All day you were restless, nervous for the public’s response. You knew they would like it - the title was a fun, light song that people would enjoy - but part of you was wondering what would happen if they didn’t. Would Tunez give up on MAJ1K? You thought of less popular groups under HYBE, under Starship, and the lack of attention and promotion the companies gave to those groups. What if MAJ1K ended up like them?

You were sitting in a lounge in the Starship building with the girls, all four of you at a circular table in comfy chairs, occasionally sipping the drinks in front of you. Wonyoung and Chaewon had iced Americanos, Yunjin had an iced Chai latte, and you had an iced caramel latte. You loved iced caramel lattes, but you were having a hard time touching your drink today. Your stomach was in knots, and you felt like you were gonna vomit. 

“Ah, look who it is,” you jumped at the sudden noise. You and the girls had been quiet, scared of saying anything in fear of somehow jinxing your album release. You were also the only ones in the lounge, so it had been incredibly quiet. Until now. “Our juniors. Big day today, huh?” 

You looked up to see one of your seniors in Starship, WJSN’s Dayoung. She was currently sporting a head of blonde hair, long and wavy, down a few inches past her shoulders. She had a big grin on her face, eyes bright and lively. If you knew anything about Dayoung, it was that she was always energetic and loud. You wondered how she did it.

“Are you scared it’ll flop?” she asked.

“Hey, Dayoung, don’t say that,” you turned, coming face to face with Exy. You freeze. Exy is only one of the most talented idols in the industry (you don’t understand how more people aren’t fans). She not only leads, raps, and dances, but she also writes and produces the majority of her group’s music. WJSN are unique in the industry in that sense - their leader is part of the writing process for many of their songs. You admire that about them. You also really admire and look up to Exy - one of the reasons you liked Starship and wanted to be under them was to get the opportunity to write and produce with her one day. 

“The company won’t like it if you stress our juniors out,” she continues. She then addresses you and the girls, saying, “Don’t worry, this comeback will do well. I heard it and it’s amazing, just what the public needs.”

You don’t say anything, not trusting your mouth to work.

“Also,” adds Dayoung, “it’s not like you can do anything about it anyways. At this point, what will happen is what’s meant to happen. If it flops, it flops, no big deal. You can always do better next time.”

“So you think it might flop?” asks Yunjin, eyes swimming with anxiety.

“No, what I meant-” Dayoung starts, before Exy interrupts her.

“It won’t flop. Trust me. Don’t trust her,” says Exy, playfully hitting Dayoung’s shoulder, “she’s a maknae. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Age discrimination,” is all Dayoung says. She then glances at her phone, sighs, “Nice meeting you. I have to get going.”

You bow in response. 

“I should probably go as well,” says Exy. “Don’t stress too much, though. And next comeback, we should get in the studio together. I’d love to work on a song with you all.”

You all bid her farewell, and then you’re in shock. 

“Writing a song with her?” Yunjin says. “When will our next comeback be?”

Chaewon laughs, “Slow down. We haven’t even had this one yet. I’m assuming the next one won’t be until June at least. It shouldn’t be till August, really, but this company is pushing us so much it might happen as early as June.”

“I can’t wait,” Yunjin decides. “I need to work on a song with Exy sunbaenim. We can win Song of the Year together.”

You shake your head, “And here I thought you were an artist. Pitiful. Going after awards.”

Yunjin rolls her eyes, “Come on, we all know you want a SOTY. We all do.”

You shrug, “It would be nice. Won’t go out of my way for it, however. Award shows are always so political. Look at the Grammys.”

“Fair point,” says Yunjin.

“I wonder if we could win an award with this comeback,” says Chaewon. “That would be nice.”

You shrug, “I hope we don’t. I want to win an award for the music we took part in.”

Chaewon frowns, “Don’t you want the group to be successful? If we win an award with this album, maybe we’ll get a longer break. Maybe they’ll get off our backs.”

Your leader sounds exhausted. Now you understand why she wants to win.

“You have a point,” you say. 

A few hours pass, conversation here and there, mostly silence. Pretty soon, you and the girls are in a van, on your way to Mnet for your comeback show. You get dressed, get your hair and makeup done, and then it’s go-time. 

You perform the title track (‘Black Magic’), as well as two b-sides you’re promoting. Fans cheer loudly, waving their lightsticks - the official lightstick had been released shortly before your fancon, it was shaped like a wand.

The comeback show goes well, and you think your management are satisfied - you made a point to sing live whenever you could. 

It’s in the van on the way back to your dorms after your first promotion that Wonyoung looks up from her phone with a smirk. 

“Guess who went live an hour ago and started talking about us?” she asks, holding up her phone.

You squint at the phone, making out the letters. 

“Jake sunbaenim talked about us again on live?!” exclaims Yunjin. “We all know why.”

You sigh, “Unnie, he doesn’t-”

“He likes you,” says Chaewon.

“Well then he should say something,” you say.

“You know it’s not that easy,” says Wonyoung. “He seems so sweet though, and he won’t shut up about you.” She scrolls on her phone, before showing you stan Twitter. “He specifically mentioned the part of the song where you have a high note. He said that’s his favorite part.”

Admittedly, you like hearing that. You feel incompetent sometimes compared to the others - Chaewon and Wonyoung are well-known, established idols, and Yunjin is trained in opera, and therefore known for her vocals. You love them, you’re proud of them, but you feel talentless sometimes next to them, so hearing that makes you feel warm inside.

“That’s sweet,” you say.

~~

You happen to be in the HYBE building the following weekend. You’ve successfully completed your first week of promotions (2 more to go!) and are in the HYBE building for practice, a meeting, and content shooting.

“Y/N! You must be exhausted from promotions, huh?” you’re sitting in one of HYBE’s lounges with the other girls - you have an hour to yourselves as you’ve finished your tasks for the day. “Hello everyone.” Your brother walks in with a grin on his face.

“Hi,” you say. “What are you doing here?”

“Comeback preparations,” he says. “Don’t tell anyone,” he glances around, “but we’re having a comeback in May.”

“Nice,” you say, “have you started on the songs?”

Soobin nods, “We’re working on the songs right now. I’m really excited for these songs, they’re coming together really well. We also have some fun concepts, switching it up a bit from our last era. They’re also planning a tour for us, so that’s exciting as well.”

“That’s great!” you exclaim, happy for your brother. You’re glad that he’s so excited about his career, and his music. You hope that you can feel the same way about your music one day.

“The comeback was excellent,” he continues, “the title is doing well on the charts. I’m streaming faithfully everyday.”

“Aww,” says Yunjin. “Thank you. I didn’t know we had such dedicated fans at HYBE.”

Soobin laughs, “You do. We’re not the only ones, ENHYPEN are pretty enthusiastic about you all as well.” he says, glancing at you. “Anyways, I have to get going. Fighting, girls, for your promotions!” 

You all thank him, and he leaves. 

“Maybe he knows something we don’t,” says Chaewon. 

“He’s friends with them,” you say. “ENHYPEN sunbaenim, I mean. Him and Heeseung sunbaenim were pretty tight when they were all trainees.”

“So we have someone on the inside,” Yunjin says, and you all laugh. 

Soon enough, it’s time to head back to the dorms for the day, and you’re walking in the hallway when you bump into him. Of course. 

“Oh, hi,” says Jake, before bowing politely. You bow in response, and he goes, “Congratulations on your comeback. It’s really good, I listened to it.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“We listened to your latest comeback as well,” says Chaewon, “Dimension: Answer. Y/N’s obsessed with ‘Polaroid Love’.”

Jake smiles, blushing, “Thank you, that’s great.” He then turns to you, “So you’re listening to our music now?”

You nod, looking at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact. “I’m pleased that my seniors make good music.”

He chuckles, and it’s music to your ears, “That’s nice to hear. Well, I don’t want to hold you all up, you must be tired, promotions and all. Have a good evening.”

You all thank him, bidding him farewell, before leaving the building.

Later that night, you find yourself looking for Jake’s most recent live. You can’t help yourself - you want to hear it for yourself. You find it easily enough - it was the group’s most recent live, and Weverse is a relatively easy platform to use.

“Hi everyone,” Jake says, waving to the camera. He’s smiling. His golden hair is unstyled, bangs falling onto his forehead. “We’ll just wait a bit for more people to join.”

You watch, waiting, and after what feels like forever, Jake finally starts talking. He thanks his fans for their support, he updates him on himself, on ENHYPEN. He then starts responding to fans who are typing in the chat.

“Ah, I see someone mentioning MAJ1K. Yes, I did listen to their comeback, it’s really good.” He turns slightly, doing something offscreen. Next thing you know, ‘Black Magic’ is playing, and Jake is vibing. “Yes! Let’s dance everyone!”

It’s endearing - Jake is doing parts of the choreo in his seat, and fans are filling the chat with dancing emojis.

He’s so sweet, you find yourself thinking. You can’t argue with it either - he’s promoting your group, and being so kind despite no obligation to be. He’s just a nice person.

The song continues playing, and Jake pauses right after the high note, rewinding and playing it again. He laughs, “That’s such a great bit right there. It’s my favorite part of the song.”

You’re smiling at your phone now. You just got complimented by one of your seniors, and you couldn’t be happier.

“I knew you liked him,” you jump, startled when you look up to see Wonyoung.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” you say, dramatically putting a hand over your heart.

“Did I? Where is it?” she retorts, and you roll your eyes. “I just came here to tell you that we’re planning on watching a movie together in the main room. So quit looking at Jake for 5 seconds and spend quality time with your best friends.”

You frown, pretending to look confused, “But my best friends are back in Ansan?”

“Hey!” says Wonyoung, playfully hitting your shoulder.

“I was just joking. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You better,” says your maknae, before walking out of your room.

You look at the live one last time, at the joy in Jake’s eyes, and the way his hair is shining, before sighing and putting your phone down. 

~~

You find yourself looking for Jake after that night. You wonder if there’s a chance he tagged along when you appear on Music Bank. He isn’t there - obviously - but you feel like you’re getting a piece of him in your interview with Sunghoon - the blonde mentions how much his group is enjoying MAJ1K’s comeback.

MAJ1K also gets a longer break after the comeback, and your next comeback isn’t scheduled till July.

July.

ENHYPEN has their comeback scheduled for July as well.

You can’t help but grin in the meeting, and you know it shocks your team - February to July is still only 4 months, not much of a break - but you don’t give an explanation.

You’re not supposed to like that MAJ1K and ENHYPEN are promoting at the same time. But you do.

~~

Manifesto: Day 1 takes everyone by surprise. In the best way possible.

You’re shocked at the change - their title tracks no longer have hyphens, and the song itself is so different from what they usually do. You like it though, it feels cool and powerful. 

You get to watch them perform ‘Future Perfect’ and ‘TFW’ from backstage on Music Bank, and when all the promoting idols are crammed on stage to see who’s winning an award, you find yourself looking at Jake. 

His hands are interlocked in front of him, head tilted downwards. You think that his eyes are closed - you can’t tell because of his visor. When ENHYPEN wins, he jumps up, seemingly taken aback, before throwing his head back with a smile and embracing his bandmates.

You make eye contact with him while walking off-stage, and send him a smile. He smiles back, nods to you.

ENHYPEN do their live celebration, and you hear fans cheering loudly. You’re happy for them.

“Look at her, she’s not even sad that we lost,” says Yunjin. 

You sigh, “I guess you guys were right.”

“About time you admitted it,” says Chaewon. “I’m happy you’re not lying to yourself anymore.”

“Me too,” you decide.

~~

It’s later that day that you bump into him in the hallway. There’s no one else around - most people have left for the day - and your groups are getting ready to leave. You’re heading back to the green room from getting a bottle of water.

“Oh, hi,” it’s the stupidest way you could’ve greeted him.

“Hello,” he says. “Nice performance today, I’ve loved your comeback.”

You blush at the compliment, “Thank you. Your comeback has been amazing as well. ‘Shout Out’ is an incredible song.”

He grins, “I’m glad you like it. I got to help write it.”

“I heard,” you say. You don’t mention that you’d read his interview, and that you know which specific lines of the song he wrote. “That’s really cool.”

“Ummm,” he puts his hand in his pocket before pulling out his phone. He hesitates, nervous, before handing it to you, “Could I have your number?”

“Sure,” you say, putting it in.

“I just figured,” he starts, trying to offer an explanation, “Um, I like talking to you, so maybe we can talk outside of our random encounters?”

“I’d like that,” you say. “Text me.”

Jake smiles, “I will.”

~~

So you and Jake start texting. It’s pretty casual at first, congratulating one another on wins and promotions, but it quickly turns regular and deep. It becomes conversations about your favorite songs, about why you chose to become idols, dramas you’re watching, what you want for your next comeback.

You find yourself confiding in him, and he confides in you, and it feels nice to have someone outside of your family and outside of your group that you’re so close to.

You’re especially happy to be texting him once he goes on tour. You’re able to stay in touch with him, and he tells you all about performing for international fans and trying deep dish pizza and going shopping in an American mall.

You update him on the industry in Korea, about who had what comeback, and you update him on your own promotions.

After your July comeback, MAJ1K gets a few weeks off from promotions, before promotions start for a Japanese album. Your Japanese album is released in September, with Japanese versions of a few of your songs with an original Japanese song. You promote it, interviewing and signing copies for fans.

In October, MAJ1K has another fancon. In October, ENHYPEN are on tour in the US.

In November, MAJ1K make an appearance at KCON in Japan, where ENHYPEN have a few tour stops. You meet up with Jake for dinner one evening, the night after his birthday.

“Happy belated birthday,” you say, handing him a nicely wrapped box.

“Thank you,” he says, accepting it. “What is it?”

You shrug, “Open it later.”

He nods, putting it to the side.

Dinner with Jake is nice. It’s your first face-to-face interaction in months, but it feels like no time has passed. And even though you both swear that you’re just friends, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to go out with him romantically. How would dinner be on a date with him?

“Thanks for meeting up with me tonight,” says Jake. “I’m glad we got to have dinner.”

“Thanks for wanting me at your delayed birthday celebration,” you respond, and he chuckles.

“Of course I’d want to have birthday dinner with you,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I had a good time tonight. So, when is MAJ1K getting back?”

“Our flight’s the day after tomorrow,” you say. “Tomorrow’s a break day, rest up and sightsee. What about you?”

“We leave tomorrow evening,” he says. “Well, see you next in the HYBE building?”

You nod, grinning. “See you at HYBE.”

He pauses for a moment, as if contemplating something. “Could I…” 

“What?”

He shakes his head, “Nevermind.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “What is it?”

“Um…” he looks uncomfortable. That’s a first. “No, nevermind.”

“Okay, then,” you respond. “See you, then, I guess.”

He nods, “See you.”

~~

“He celebrated his birthday with you, he obviously likes you,” is the first thing Yunjin says to you when you get back to the hotel. You and Yunjin are rooming together.

“Hello to you, too,” you respond. 

Yunjin rolls her eyes, before saying, “So, how was it? Romantic, candlelit dinner?”

“Romantic? No. Candlelit? Yes,” you respond.

Yunjin shakes her head, “No. Candlelit dinners are inherently romantic. It’s a cliche in the genre of romance. You’re just in denial.”

You shrug, “If I know I like him, I’m not in denial.”

Yunjin gasps, “When were you gonna tell me?”

“I thought you already knew.”

“I did,” she says, “but I was waiting for you to admit it to yourself. Once you admit it to yourself, you can actually do something about it, ya know?”

“I can’t do anything about it,” you respond. “I’m an idol. He’s an idol. You’re an idol, so you should know.”

“You can just keep it a secret,” she says.

“We have eagle-eyed fans, and so does he. Besides, there’s also Dispatch.” 

“Not in the HYBE building,” Yunjin points out. “What happens in the company building stays in the company building.”

“I guess,” you shrug. “But I don’t even know if he likes me back. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Yunjin sighs, “Have I not told you how obvious it is he likes you?”

“You have, but you’re my friend,” you argue.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Yunjin said. “Like you said, I’m your friend.”

You sigh. “I don’t want to think about this right now. Relationships, I mean.”

“We can talk more in the morning,” says Yunjin.

~~

You don’t talk in the morning. You also don’t respond to Jake’s text. It’s him asking if MAJ1K would be interested in hanging out with ENHYPEN as they have free time before their flight in the evening. You feel bad about it, but you leave him on read. You’ll make up an excuse later.

“So, how was your date last night?” asks Wonyoung over breakfast.

“It wasn’t a date,” you say, “but it was nice.”

“And I’m the queen of England,” mutters Chaewon.

You roll your eyes at your leader. 

“Has he texted? Since your dinner last night?” Yunjin asks.

You nod. “He was talking about us and them hanging out today. They’re flying back tonight, but besides that they’re free.”

“So when and where are we meeting up?” Chaewon asks. 

“We’re not,” you respond. “I haven’t responded yet, and I’m not planning on it.”

“Why?” Yunjin asks. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do,” you respond. “That’s why. I don’t want to be near him. It’s too much for me. We’re just friends, and I can’t deal with that.”

“You could change that if you talked to him,” Wonyoung says, but you shake your head.

“Even if he did like me back, it wouldn’t work out. It’s not a good idea. It’ll just get really messy and ruin everyone’s careers in the process.”

~~

You get a few more texts from Jake throughout the day.

jakey: are you guys busy? we still have a few hours… (1 pm)

jakey: well, we have to go now. see you back at hybe? :) (5 pm)

jakey: getting on the plane… i’ll stop annoying you… for now… (7 pm)

You feel bad for leaving him on read, but you don’t know how to respond. You don’t want to respond. 

The next day, you get another text from him wishing you a safe flight. 

You don’t respond.

~~

You don’t see Jake again till a few weeks later. It’s the New Years Eve Live performance, and it’s rather ironic that you bump into him there. It’s where you’d had your first conversation with him, and now, you saw him again there after avoiding him. The universe seems to like forcing you two to talk on New Years.

You’re walking to the green room with the girls, having just finished performing. ENHYPEN are passing by you in the hallway, getting ready to get on stage. 

“Y/N.” It’s your name. You recognize the voice. You’d recognize it anywhere.

“Hi,” you say. 

“I have to go right now,” says Jake, “but we’re talking after my performance.” He looks dejected, and you feel bad.

You nod.

“Hyung!” Jungwon calls him, and Jake turns to follow his group. The rest of the ENHYPEN members send him smirks, teasing looks. Except for Ni-Ki, the maknae, who looks at you, before looking at the ground. He looks annoyed.

You walk into the green room, nervous. It’s stupid, really - you and Jake were/are friends. You shouldn’t feel nervous. 

You also feel awful - he looked sad, and you know it’s your fault for ignoring his messages. 

ENHYPEN’s performance feels like an eternity. And then it’s over. 

jakey: let’s talk

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copyright: this is my original work, so don't steal/copy it. i appreciate your cooperation on this matter.

[ratasum]

Antagonist asks for Lady Makko! Sticking to the backstory ones.

5. Do you have a mentor, or someone you’ve modeled yourself after? Who is it, and why are they so compelling?

11. What’s one thing you can never forgive? (Could be an event in the past, or a character trait like lying.)

12. When did you feel the most accomplished or successful?

50 Questions to Ask Your Antagonist

5. Do you have a mentor, or someone you’ve modeled yourself after? Who is it, and why are they so compelling?

"When I was with the rest of the rabble back in Rata Sum, I had my mentor in college, but they were useless. Far more important to me was the crew of the Red Howl. I joined up with them when I left Rata Sum, and they were instrumental in my becoming who I am today.

The captain, Yazzna, was a ruthless, cutthroat woman. She taught me early on that to get ahead in this world, you can't hold anyone so closely that they can get a knife in your back...

Or that you would be unwilling to put a knife in theirs."

11. What’s one thing you can never forgive? (Could be an event in the past, or a character trait like lying.)

"I don't suffer anyone who double-crosses me.

I can tolerate a lot. Stupidity, foolheartedness, even backtalk so long as the person's got an idea that doesn't piss me off.

But if someone's trying to undermine me, go behind my back, frame me... when I got out from under my old employer, who wanted far more from me than I'd ever want to give his filthy ass, I made sure he knew that I was stabbing him from the front.

He tried to backstab me, and he died for it. Same for that bitch Lionguard Vigdis, trying to frame me because she was pissed she wasn't able to get me on anything.

If I'm going to fuck someone over, they'll know it. Try to pull one on me and I'll make sure you regret it."

12. When did you feel the most accomplished or successful?

She bares her fangs for a moment before taking in a deep breath and letting it out, bringing the long cigarette holder up to her lips to take a draw. Blowing smoke out in a circle, her ears twitch.

"The moment I knew my rise to power was complete.

My old boss, Scrimm, had been... unhappy about me striking out on my own. Shot me in the stomach and set the whole place alight with an explosive. Lost both my legs. My right hand, Jonn, dragged me half dead out of that building and took care of me while I recovered. Kept it quiet that I'd survived, and I planned.

Through Jonn, I got in contact with a sculptor back in Rata Sum who did ornate golem parts for fun. I commissioned him for a pair of legs from the knee down, made of basalt - only the finest - from Mount Maelstrom. I instructed him on every inch of their construction, down to the placement of power stones. See, I’m not just pretty. I was pursuing a career in golemancy while I was still with the College of Dynamics, and I was still pretty damn good at it.

Best part is, that sculptor preferred to remain anonymous. Artsy golems aren’t exactly in high demand, and I’d imagine his krewe gave him hell for it.

At any rate, once I had the legs, I had Jonn arrange a meeting with Scrimm under the pretense of handing over my old contracts and my holdings. A final admission that he’d won. But I was waiting for him there… didn’t even give him the chance to act surprised. I shot the bastard, once in the stomach and once in the head.

May have lit up the place too. A little petty spite on my part.

I'd say I regretted it, but I don't. Not really. He wasn't a good man, and while I learned a lot from him, he was a son of a bitch who earned what he got in the end."

[casspurrjoybell-26]

The Contract - Chapter 8

*Warning Adult Content*

I look through the contract one more time, making sure I signed in the right places of contract where I needed to.

Donovan sits in front of me, with his lawyer sitting next to him and a lawyer of my own sitting next to me, provided by Mr. Steele to oversee the signing.

I push the papers back to him.

"Done," I say. "It all looks good."

Both lawyers stand up and shake hands, as does Donovan as he thanks them for coming, I stand and smile the best I could, despite the fact we've just been sitting here for two hours looking over my contract to Desire.

I'm so embarrassed sitting in the same room as the boss, who I had sex with not just a few days ago, it was hard to hold eye contact with anyone in this room, especially Donovan, whose scarily calm and confident.

"Nice meeting you Evan," my lawyer says, shaking my hand before he leaves with Donovan's lawyer.

"You too," I say back and watch both lawyers leave the room.

I stand alone with Donovan now and an awkward silence fills the room.

"You look good," he says suddenly, surprising me as he comes up to me and runs his fingers through my hair.

'What the hell? What is he doing?'

I step back alarmed as he grins at me, amused.

"You scrub up pretty well, you're starting to look like an actor, he says, looking me over. "You're going to break hearts in the industry."

"Thanks?" I say, not sure what else to say.

I feel my neck get warm with how weird it feels getting complimented by a guy like him and from his handsome face looking me over like a possession.

I look at him and he's of course, dressed like a businessman... only this time he isn't wearing a tie and a few buttons on his shirt are open, showing his tan chest.

"What you got going on today?" he asks, making no effort to move as he stands close to me.

I can't even look at him, he's too close.

"Not much... I was going to hit the gym," I mumble out.

He hums and steps back.

"Follow me," he says, opening the door and walking out.

I blink several times before moving and following him.

"Where to?" I ask, walking next to him.

He doesn't reply back, he just types something into his phone and ignores me all the way to the front of the building, where a black sleek expensive car is waiting, with a man holding the door open for him.

Donovan gets inside and then finally looks at me, not saying a word, yet his eyes are telling me to hurry up, get inside and be quiet.

Would it kill this guy to be nice?

I get in beside Donovan and the driver starts the car and then takes off and just like that, I'm in a car with the boss I'm sleeping with, who is the billionaire, Donovan Steele, heading to a destination unknown.

He turns and watches me, his jaw leaning on his palm as his eyes sink into me, making me uncomfortable about what to do about this situation.

"Are you always this quiet?" he asks. "Natalie reported you were a 'pleasure to talk to' she seemed very interested in you."

'What is this situation?'

I swallow hard and grow a pair and look at him.

"You sound jealous," I joke, yet he looks unaffected, bored even as he simply glances at me, then focuses back on his cell-phone.

"Is that normal?" I continue speaking. "For Natalie to report to you?" I ask, curious since he mentioned it.

"No."

I wanted to ask why he was keeping tabs on me but it already felt incredibly stuffy and awkward just sitting next to him, his leg touching mine, so I kept my mouth shut.

I suddenly feel on high alert as my body becomes ignited, not only are we sitting close to each other but he hasn't stopped looking at me like I'm prey and he's the hunter.

The driver is right there, listening to our conversation and Donovan couldn't care less.

"How's your ass?"

I snap my eyes at him and at him as a blush makes it's way to my face, yet all Donovan does is smile slightly.

The car stops and the driver announces 'we're here sir' as he gets out of the car and opens the door for Donovan on his side.

I look outside and see we've stopped outside of a gym, that definitely looks like it's a 'VIP members only' gym and not your simple walk-in gym, exactly like the one I go to.

I get out and catch up to him.

"What are we doing here?" I breathe out, following him inside.

"Working out. Isn't that obvious?"

Obvious?

He never even mentioned it, he just told me to follow him and I did, like an idiot.

I follow him inside where we're instantly greeted... or he is.

"Mr. Steele, welcome back," the receptionist says, a young girl who smiles politely at him. "Your room is ready for you sir."

Donovan ignores her and just walks forward, despite the poor girl practically lusting over him like a hot snack, he paid her no mind and ignored her entire existence.

"That was rude," I say once we got far away that she couldn't hear. "She seemed interested in you, you could at least say thank you," I muttered.

He looks at me and scoffs, his eyes glaring at me as he continues walking, not saying a word.

He leads us to a private room and inside almost made my jaw drop.

The room was huge and it was basically a private gym filled with everything you could possibly need, plus a minibar filled with pre-workout, drinks and snacks.

It's just the two of us here as the door clicks behind me, leaving me alone with him as he starts taking off his suit jacket and getting undressed.

"Uh, I don't have my gym stuff," I point out the obvious. "And neither do you."

"There's stuff in the back, I made sure they had your size prepared before we arrived."

I blink and follow him to the back and he's right, there's a locker room in this private gym and gym shorts, a T-shirt and a pair of Nike training trainers for me, all in my size.

"When did you prepare this?" There was no way he'd know I was going to the gym today. "Are you stalking me or something?" I tease, admiring the trainers.

"Don't flatter yourself."

He takes off his shirt, exposing his six-pack abs and perfect tan.

"I texted we were coming and for what I pay a week, I expected no less from the staff to accommodate me and I knew your size from your file."

I roll my eyes at his high and mighty attitude and start to take off my clothes to change into gym gear.

I watch him from the corner of my eye as he also does the same, picking up his similar Nike training shorts to mine and putting his tan-fit legs inside them.

He catches me and a ghost smile makes its way to his lips.

Donovan steps forward and grabs my jaw with his hand, he turns my face and makes me look up at him, as he stares down at me nonchalantly.

"You're not this shy, Evan," he says, his voice deep and penetrating. "It's just us here, no one will judge you for looking so greedily at me, not here at least."

I blush and push him away from me.

"Whose looking greedily?" I snort out, looking away from him.

He steps forward and grabs my hand and places it over his shorts, directly on top of his now-hard erection, making me feel dizzy as I process what the hell is happening.

"Don't lie to yourself Evan, it's not attractive when you hide what you want," he declares, using his other hand to grip my hair.

I glare at him and his cold eyes stare back at me as his lips curl into a grin.

"There," he rapt out. "That look, that's what I like about you Evan, the fight in your eyes, it really does captivate me."

Shit.

What is he even saying?

I'm a man.

Like he has no filter at all and just says what he likes.

"Stop," I stutter, blushing when he thrusts his cock into my hand against his shorts.

His eyes snap to mine and the look on his face makes me stop breathing, as it feels like the air left the room, just leaving us and the sexual tension hanging by a thread.

"Get on your knees," he commands, his voice thick with need and authority.

It takes a moment to realize what he asking and when I realize it, I feel myself grow hot and flustered, like a teenager again from a few simple words.

"Here?" I exclaimed. "We can't... What if someone comes in and sees us?" I say nervously, looking around helplessly.

He grunts out annoyed as his eyes coldly hold me in place.

"I either fuck your mouth here or in front of every single employee in this building," he declares seriously, his face hard with certainty. "It's up to you."

I get on my knees and stare up at him with shaky hands, he stands with a satisfied expression as he pulls down his gym shorts and grips his thick large manhood in his firm hold and his hooded eyes never leave mine.

Fuck... I should have never mentioned the gym.

Why can't I say no to this man?

What the hell has gotten into me?

I've finally gone crazy.

[vinvantae]

Baby Steps

Part 23/26

<<< Previous Part

****************************************************

You woke up the next morning, you woke up in Maranello with the biggest headache you’d ever had in your life. It should’ve been an easy decision really, simply telling Binotto that you weren’t interested in the contract, but with the way they’d been treating you this year was unlike anything else you’d experienced during your entire time with the team. Even when you first started out, sure there was some pretty blatant sexism, but your superiors had always had your back, always stepped in.

But this felt different, the way you’d been treated since you and Dan became official was unlike anything you’d felt before. It felt like people were talking about you behind your back, perhaps not even with malice, but it still made you feel small. So, maybe the idea of moving to another team was a lot more interesting to you than you’d realised.

“Hey, yn? You awake?” Carlos knocked on your bedroom door. “I made breakfast.”

“I am, I’m coming. Just give me two minutes… Is Milo up?” You called back, slipping out of bed, grabbing some shorts to pull on underneath your t-shirt.

“Yeah, hermosa. I’ve got him dressed and ready for the day.” The Spaniard hummed, it sounded like his back was resting against the door as he spoke. “Was thinking that we could go for some lunch or something today?”

“Sounds good. Wanna move away from the door so you don’t fall in when I open it? As funny as that would be” You teased softly, wiggling the door handle.

He gave you a guilty smile as you stepped out of the room. “Morning.”

“You don’t have to look at me like that.” You grumbled, nudging him with your shoulder.

“I still feel bad about ambushing you, I should’ve just told you why I was taking you to the factory.” He explained.

You wrapped your arms around his middle, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t have gone then would I? You knew it was the only way to get me in there.”

“So, you’re not mad at me?” He let out a sigh of relief, hugging you back - pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You were so quiet on the way home last night that I thought I’d fucked it up and you’d be on the first flight back to the UK.”

“Not mad, just had a lot to think about… Can we not talk about it right now? I just want to enjoy the rest of this weekend with you without my brain running a million miles an hour.”

He smiled softly. “Of course, Chica. Let’s get you some breakfast. I’ll probably drive us out of the city because pretty much everything here is Ferrari central so that definitely won’t keep it out of your head.”

The two of you went downstairs and you immediately turned your attention to the toddler in the highchair, a bright smile on his little face when he saw you. He reached up for you and you scooped him up, holding him close to your chest.

“Good morning, Jellybean.” You hummed, kissing his cheek. “Get a good night’s sleep?”

“Yes, Mummy!” He grinned. “Uncle Carlos read me a bedtime story in Spanish! I did not know much but it was cool and made me sleepy.”

“Wow, baby, that is cool!” You cooed.

Carlos smiled sweetly, he was so fond of you both - the way he’d watched your son grow up in front of him was truly special. He felt so lucky to have been there for it and as Milo reached for him he felt that familiar warmth in his chest. “So, y/n.”

“So, Carlos…” You hummed.

“I hope you know that if Dan does anything to hurt you or my little Frijolito… I swear he won’t-”

You frowned a little. “Careful of what you’re about to say in front of my son, Carlos.”

The Spaniard took a deep breath and composed himself, holding Milo closer to him - pressing a kiss to the top of the toddler’s head. “Sorry, I just… I love you both so much and he doesn’t know just how lucky he is to be in your life and be a part of this little guy’s life.”

“I think he does, Carlos.” You smiled softly. “He’s always so good at making me feel safe and comfortable.”

“You know it’s only because I care right?” His voice was soft, his dark eyes flickering across your face. “You’ve both been through a lot, especially you and I’d hate for you to feel that kind of pain again.”

You smiled softly, reaching up to squeeze his bicep. “I’ll be okay, I’m a big girl… besides, I’ve got the best friend and the best son in the entire world looking out for me.”

The driver grinned and used his free arm to give you a hug before popping Milo back into his chair and getting you both breakfast. Spanish omelette, one of your favourites. “So, tell me about Dan’s proclamation of love? Was it followed by fireworks? On a bed of roses?”

You rolled your eyes and giggled. “No, we just laid beside each other on the beach and he told me how he felt, and then I said it back. It wasn’t some big event, it was just what I needed.”

“Oh boo. I expected far more from him.” He chuckled softly. “I’ll have to have a word.”

“Don’t be silly.”

After breakfast, the three of you ventured out of Maranello to the bigger city of Modena for the day. Carlos did his best to keep your mind distracted from the heavy decision on your shoulders, but it was hard when you were on Ferrari’s home turf - eagle eyed fans spotting Carlos from a mile away. Milo spent most of the day with his head nestled against your neck, a little nervous from all the attention the Spaniard was getting from the surrounding Italians.

He was usually so loud and boisterous that you knew he must be struggling with it all. You rubbed his back and pressed a kiss to the top of his head as Carlos took photos with another group of fans. “I’m sorry you’re not having fun, jellybean.”

“Jus’ wanna spend time with uncle Carlos… I don't wanna share.” He grumbled.

“I know… how about we just head back to the house? I want you to have fun and remember what I said. It’s okay to leave if you’re not feeling happy.”

“Please, mummy.”

The driver gave you a sorry smile as he rejoined you, placing a hand on the small of Milo’s back. “I’m so sorry… They’re really out in their hoards today.”

“Can we just go back to yours?” You asked softly. “Milo is feeling a bit down having to share your attention.”

“Oh Frijolito.” He sighed, carefully taking the small boy from your arms. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much, let’s go back home and watch cartoon movies and eat snackies okay?”

The toddler suddenly perked up. “Please!”

Carlos smiled and bounced him on his hip as you walked back to the car - people now more cautious to approach now he was engaged in conversation with your son. You followed behind them, acutely aware of the couple in sunglasses who had been following you for most of the day, clearly trying to catch you and Carlos doing… something? Did they really think they were going to catch you cheating on Daniel?

You simply rolled your eyes and climbed into the passenger seat of the car, turning up the music.

“Today wasn’t fantastic, I really am sorry, Hermosa.” The Spaniard apologised.

“Did you see those two people following us as well?” You grumbled. “What did they think they were going to see?”

“No idea. We’re both in very happy relationships and even if we weren’t we’re not stupid enough to broadcast an affair in public.” He snorted, starting the engine. “Besides, you smell.”

“Wow, Carlos, really?” You laughed, rolling your eyes at your best friend’s childish insult. “That’s why you don’t find me attractive, huh?”

“I never said you’re not attractive, Chica.” The driver hummed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “But, you’ve always been a sister to me. I’ve always been comfortable enough to be myself around you, no pressure to be anything but me.”

You smiled. “Right back at you. I’ve never been worried about you. As a girl, every time you make friends with a guy - you always worry they have an ulterior motive, but you? I’ve never had that fear.”

Carlos smiled gently. “Right back at you.”

“I love you both!” Milo called out from the back of the car, clearly feeling left out.

“Oh jellybean, we love you!” You grinned, looking over your shoulder at him. “Wanna watch Cars when we get back?”

“Yes!”

You fished your phone out of your bag as it buzzed, smiling when you saw the message from Dan.

DR: Missing you, hope you’re having a good time. Can’t wait to have you back x

Y/N: Not long, my love. Counting down the hours x

“You two are like little kids I swear.”

Your cheeks flushed and you looked up at Carlos. “Sorry?”

“Smiling and your phone because your boyfriend texted you.” He teased, pulling into the driveway. “So cute it’s kind of gross.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and got out of the car to scoop Milo out of the back, bouncing him on your hip.

“So, if not Daniel, who on the grid would you-“

“Oh don’t you start this again.” You laughed. “I’ve told you, I really wasn’t into any of them before I got to know Daniel and that hasn’t changed. He’s the only one.”

The Spaniard quirked a brow. “So you’re telling me, if you were single and Charles or Pierre approached you for a night of passion, you’d say no?”

“I would absolutely say no.” You groaned. “They’re like kids to me!”

“You’re not that old, Hermosa.” He draped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you in close as the three of you walked back inside. “And come on, I’ve seen the way they’ve eyed you up, like a sexy cougar.”

“You can’t say I’m not old and then immediately call me a cougar!” You laughed, pinching him in the size with your free hand. “Now let’s watch cars, hmm?”

“Mummy, what’s a cougar?”

You pressed your lips into a tight line, trying not to laugh. “Yes, Carlos, care to explain to your nephew what a cougar is?”

“It’s a big cat! Like a mountain lion.”

Milo frowned. “Why would mummy be a lion?”

“Uncle Carlos is just being silly, jellybean.” You could see the panic etched onto the driver’s face. “How about we get you into your jammies while he makes us some popcorn?”

“Okay!”

Sorry. He mouthed, sipping towards the kitchen. As you carried your son upstairs, back in England, Dan found himself sitting in his flat bored out of his mind. He was starting to forget how he entertained himself before you came into his life but instead of moping around he grabbed his phone and sent out a text to a couple of his fellow drivers, hoping someone, anyone, would be free so he didn’t blow his brains out. He wasn’t sure who else would even be in the UK, most opting to be around their team’s factories.

LN - sorry mate, in Monaco. Back tomorrow

MV - with Kelly and P, sorry

GR - I’m free. Wanna grab a beer?

Russell. You bloody lifesaver.

After texting a location, the Aussie hopped into a cab and headed to the bar - bouncing his knee up and down impatiently. He was really fond of the young Brit, the two of them had grown close since he’d joined the sport and he really trusted his fellow driver. As he stepped into the building, he felt instantly relieved by George’s comforting grin, the young man pulling him into a friendly hug - patting him on the back.

“Dan, mate, how have you been?” He asked, sitting back down at the bar - Dan joining him, ordering them both a drink.

“Wanna hear something terribly depressing?” Dan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I miss y/n, like she’s only been gone two days and I feel lost. Why am I like this?”

George smiled softly. “Because you’re in love, it’s nice. Like you’ve always been a happy guy but since you started seeing y/n you’ve had this whole change.”

“You think so?”

“Oh for sure. Especially with her son. I think knowing that you’ve got this little family unit waiting for you when you’ve finished a hard weekend has really grounded you.” The younger explained, taking a sip of his beer. “And, seeing your face when Milo comes toddling towards you is so cute.”

Dan’s cheeks flushed a little. “He’s so special. LIke, I’ve always loved kids. You know that, but just the way he looks at me? Makes me feel like I’m doing everything right. I want to make him proud. I want him to look up to me and want to be like me.”

“I know it’s still early in your relationship but I can tell just how much you mean to them both.”

“Down the road, like a long long way down the road… I’d love it if I could like… I’d love to adopt him.” George could see the small smile tugging at the Australian’s lips. “I know that’s a while away but-”

“No, man, it’s actually really touching to hear that. Thank you for sharing with me.” The younger said, giving Daniel’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Dan’s smile grew and they cheers’d their glasses together. He finally felt settled in his life with a job he loved and the girl of his dreams - but he didn’t know yet, that you might be stolen away to Ferrari and you still weren’t sure how to tell him.

Especially because you were seriously considering it.

**********************************************

Hope you enjoyed! :)

Next part >>>

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[boldlyanxious]

In the Dark

Masterlist

Marinette saw Damian headed down the hallway and she quickly turned down the back hallway and slipped into a costume closet. She had already had a long rough day with one of the supporting actresses causing a series of problems that somehow were all Marinette's fault. She did not need to deal with Damian as she was headed out the door. He was arrogant and always found something to complain about and it was usually about her. They had gotten off on the wrong foot and now the only thing she had ever seen him happy about was her being unhappy.

She only planned to be here for a moment but she heard him curse as his footsteps moved past the hallway and then move quickly down into the hall and the closet door opened. She pushed back into the corner hoping whatever he needed was in the front and he wouldn’t see her. She couldn’t imagine what he would need to get from there anyway. He had made it very clear that as the star of the show everyone should be meeting his needs and he had no need to know where to find his costumes or props.

Instead of getting something out of the closet he opened the door and stepped in, closing the door behind him. She had no time to shift away or any way to hide that she was in there. She held her breath and backed into the corner. She couldn’t fathom why he had followed her into here anyway. He shifted the costumes and pushed himself right into the corner until he was against her. There was nowhere for her to escape to, she let out a startled squeak as he pressed himself into her.

---

Damian could not stand Cecile. She was vapid and loud. She never had an end to her questions or ideas. She had gotten a good supporting part in the movie, but she was not a lead role for which she constantly complained. He did his best to avoid her off set but she had a habit of showing up everywhere. Honestly the entire movie was a waste and he wished he could get out of his contract. The other lead was fine. They had little interaction outside of the set and she did well with the part. Everyone else on the cast and crew were extremely tiresome with the exception of one costume designer. She was an apprentice and this was her first project on her own but it was overseen by her mentor. She was efficient and had a great eye. She had a hesitancy and stammering manner but she didn’t fawn over him like many of the others did.

Cecilie had been even more insufferable today than usual after catching Damian not listening to her because he got distracted watching the costume designer, Marinette. When Damian heard Cecile loudly talking about how she was looking for him so they could leave together and check out the new tapas place he panicked slightly. He did not want to deal with her anymore so he rushed down the back hallway and through the first door he saw. He pulled the door closed behind himself. He was moving too quickly for the small space. He thought it was an office or workspace but it turned out to be a small closet. A very small closet and it was pretty full of costumes. He tried to halt his movements and remain silent. He ended up right in the corner, or would have if someone was not already occupying it.

The other person made a startled eeep sound and he covered her mouth before they could be discovered. They were silent and listening as Cecile wandered around shouting for Damian. He was so focused on listening for her that he didn’t realize for several moments that his hand was still covering the mouth of the other person. There was no light in the closet so he wasn’t sure who was in here with him, or why. Hopefully they could be persuaded to refrain from mentioning this incident if he offered the right incentive.

---

Marinette was certain the loud sound of her beating heart would give them away. She would probably have been breathing heavier but Damian’s had covered her mouth and his other arm had moved to the back of her head holding her head still. She didn’t dare try to get him to stop. She quickly figured out why he had jumped in here and it had nothing to do with her. She could hear one of the other actresses screeching around looking for him. She couldn’t blame his escape, especially since she had just done the same. Maybe she could convince him that she was also hiding from the odious woman. She was pretty nasty to Marinette and honestly she might have made the same choice if she thought the woman was looking for her.

She could feel every one of his muscles tensed against her as Cecile continued screeching out Damian's name. She would never give him the satisfaction of saying how that made her feel. He had already wanted his distaste at her mentioning anything about how the costume would look on him or display his muscles. She had just been making conversation while getting measurements but he had mistaken her inquiries about the costume's fit and material preferences as trying to make a pass at him. He told her to just do her job and leave her personal opinions out of it so she had just made the best choices she could without his input then or in the future. If he wanted to be a diva she would wait for the complaints.

Marinette shifted in his hold. She was right against his chest but she was still holding herself back into the corner with her arms at her sides. It had been quiet for several minutes when Damian released the pressure from her mouth pulling his hand away. His other hand seemed to release the back of her head slowly, almost threading through her stray hairs. She stayed rigid in the corner and she still remained silent. She didn’t know the protocol for greeting a person you randomly hid in a closet with, maybe she could find a book or a humorous blog post about it. He seemed uninterested in coming up with small talk and simply turned away from her and turned the door handle. Then he twisted it again with the same result. Several more times before he seemed to accept that there was a problem.

---

“It's locked,” he said.

“No, are you sure?”

“If you can manage to open it, be my guest.”

Damian felt the woman shift and he turned so she could reach the door. Same result. It wouldn’t twist. That didn’t stop her from trying several more times and then making an irritated sound before rattling the door against the jamb.

“I’ve left my phone in the dressing room. Use yours to call someone to let us out.”

“My phone is in my office. But great news. I have the keys. Unfortunately the lock is on the other side of the door.”

“That is useless.” he sounded angry. “Why were you in here anyway?”

“This is a costume closet. I have every right to be here.” she said. “You are the one who followed me in and locked the door.”

This gave him the information to place her voice which helped make sense of her having an office instead of a dressing room. He didn't think she would accept any bribery from him to keep quiet but fortunately it was because he didn't think Marinette was the type to talk about any of the cast or crew. He had heard her be asked questions by reporters before and she always expertly sidestepped the questions to focus on aspects to promote the movie or her own work on the costumes.

He wasn't sure how to bring anything up with her. He had his first meeting with her directly after the initial meeting with the cast that has reporters. He had gotten along great with the other lead Amy and her husband at the meeting but that is when he first met Cecilie. He had been very grateful to get away from her for a quiet fitting but on her first day Marinette was distracted and fumbling. He had later found out she hadn't been told to be there at all and had rushed in to get measurements. He had been her first fitting and he was already in a foul mood. Her innocent questioning felt too personal so he scolded her harshly.

---

She released the handle and turned away from the door, bumping into him in the process. He stepped back from her but he was against the wall so he reached out and nudged her away. Marinette stumbled when he pushed her and hit the wall on the other side. She pushed against it to keep herself up. She tried to smooth out the costumes so they would not be damaged in the small space. She felt around trying to think through everything that was located in this closet. She was hoping something would prove useful for their current predicament. She didn’t even realize she was talking quietly to herself until he asked about it.

“What are you muttering about?” he asked.

“I’m trying to inventory the costumes to see if there is anything here that can help us get out of here,” she said.

“I thought you were very professional until I found you hiding in a closet and now muttering to yourself.”

Marinette turned quickly to confront him. How dare he suggest she was the one being unprofessional when he had tried the same thing. She turned on him quickly. Too quickly. She slipped on a piece of fabric when she spun back towards him and stumbled. Her arms flailed out and grabbed for anything to keep her from tumbling. She cringed as she felt herself grasp at the costumes but she couldn’t seem to stop it. She made a series of noises to go along with the sounds of the hangers being yanked to the side.

But then she felt his arms go around her and pull her back to her feet. She latched onto him in an attempt to stay upright but he had lunged too far. She was only on her feet for a split second before he crashed into her and they both fell down into a heap. He was fully on top of her and she twisted to try to get free of his weight. Like a game of Twister she realized her back was on top of one of his arms and her legs were tangled in his.

His chest lifted as he shifted against her. She tried to move again but she could not get her arms under her with his weight on top of her. She froze as his hand moved against her and down the outer part of her skirted side and leg. She pulled away from his hand causing both of them to collapse back down again. His arms pulled her against him tightly as he started twisting. She struggled against him until he told her to stop. She froze again and he flipped them over until he was sitting with his back against the wall with her straddling his lap.

---

Damian was regretting not just letting her fall. He could hear her flailing and reached out without thinking but now they were on the ground tangled together. She seemed to be panicking so he took charge. He felt around a bit to find out how they were tangled before making his move. She was not cooperating with any of his attempts to get them apart. She was doing the exact opposite of what they needed to do to get back to their feet.

“You are making everything worse. Just hold still,” he growled.

Finally she stopped and he was able to lift her to him and turn them both over. Now she was on top of him but they were in a better position to get untangled. His hands were resting at her hips as she moved forward, leaning against his chest. Everything in him told him to wrap his arms around her and keep her close to him but she pushed off and got back to her feet. He was shocked that he missed the feel of her against him. He chose to ignore that and pushed himself to his feet.

She was already back to going through the costumes to find a way out of here. He considered what would have happened if he became locked in a closet with almost any other woman who had been around today. He didn’t think that any of them would be trying very hard to get out. They would probably be trying to find a way to get closer to him.

---

Marinette tried to contain her breathing so Damian would not notice how affected she was. She had to get out of this closet. It was not doing her any good being this close to him. She was shaking remembering the feeling of his body on top of hers and then shifting until she was on his lap, against his chest. She had known he was attractive. That was clearly printed in every magazine that had ever had a photo set of him. But being pressed against his muscles was very different from taking his measurements and checking the fit of his costumes. She just had to remind herself that he hated her.

She had gone through all the costumes on the first row and she hadn’t come up with any brilliant ideas. A couple of the costumes had pins in them that might be used to push into the back of the lock to force the mechanism open but she didn’t think any of them were stored here. She wondered if the hangers could force the handle open. They were pretty sturdy. She moved back to check the costumes to decide which ones would be least harmed by not being on a hanger for a bit. She found 3 that should work and so she went through the process of removing them.

---

“You’ve had an idea,” Damian said.

He had taken a moment to calm himself after he stood back up but suddenly her movements felt feverish and hurried. He could tell she was working on some sort of plan even without being able to see her.

“I’m getting hangers. I think they could be used as a lever to force the handle open.”

“That sounds possible. How can I help?”

“I think it will have to be you doing all of the work. I’m not tall enough to put the pressure in the right spot.”

Damian reached out for her to get the hanger. Her hand pulled back suddenly when their fingers touched. He wasn’t sure how to react to that. He wasn’t one to be overly touchy and definitely not pushy about the feelings he thought might be developing but it was unexpected. Before he had time to consider further she had pushed it back and it poked into his chest and he was able to get it from her.

He reached out for the door handle and settled the hanger over it to apply the pressure. It was very tight and he could feel the handle turning but when he added a bit more pressure the handle snapped. He cursed while Marinette checked to see if it had opened. She made a disappointed noise and handed him the next hanger. Possibly he was a bit too frustrated because it snapped almost immediately. The broken wood jammed into his forearm. Marinette tried to pull his arm into the thin strip of light coming under the door.

“I don’t think it broke the skin but it will probably have scratches or bruising.”

He made a noncommittal noise and tried not to focus on her fingers gliding along his skin. It didn’t even hurt that bad any more. It had just been a sudden pain. But he found he liked being the target of her concern. He reached out to stop her fingers on his arm. She sucked in a breath at the unexpected contact and pulled back. He could practically feel her shake herself out of a daze. They were too close to hide much of anything in here. He just wasn’t sure if she was reacting to his touch in a good way or just trying to get away from him.

He instead focused on getting them out of there.

---

Marinette jumped when Damian grabbed her hand from his injured arm. She had completely lost all thought about what she was doing. He had never given her any sign that he wanted her to continue touching him beyond the initial check of his injury. Luckily he could not see her face heat up in the dark. She pulled away quickly so he wouldn’t notice how much she just wanted to hold onto his hand. His focus had returned to the door handle so that is where she would focus too. She was too quiet for him to hear her stammering apologies but just handed off the final hanger she had gotten. She could tell the difference with this attempt immediately. The handle was making a noise as it turned and Damian was adjusting it as it moved so the hanger wouldn’t snap.

Then just like that, the handle fell to the ground with a clatter. Marinette couldn’t contain her excitement. She laughed with joy and grabbed Damian and pulled him into a tight hug. She hardly even noticed that he was hugging her back because she was bouncing around. She didn’t notice until the hug didn’t end when she expected. She tended to be a hugger so she was accustomed to pulling back when the other person pulled back but after the excited feeling was washing away she started to step back only to realize that he was still holding on. His head tilted into the crook of her neck before with one final squeeze he slid away slowly. Marinette had to hold onto the wall for a moment when he released because her knees were suddenly too weak to hold her up.

---

Damian held her in his arms and wished the feeling could never end. He didn’t often hug people. He rarely enjoyed it when he did, aside from a few close family members and friends. But holding Marinette in his arms just felt right. She fit against him. He could feel her pulling back but they were about to be out of the space and he may never be close to her like this again. He tightened his hold for just a second before releasing her slowly. He hoped she couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating just now or that she would not tell everyone how he gave awkward long hugs. He squared his shoulders and pushed against the door.

The door didn’t just push open so he looked at the mechanism stuck in the handle hole. He pushed on the tab and it did nothing. The locked handle was still stuck on the outside and it wouldn’t budge. It was fastened on with screws. Marinette had picked up the handle and tried to get it to connect to the piece but it wasn’t working. Damian didn’t think that would help anyway but she was clearly in distress.

“Is there a screw to use to push in the pin hole?” Damian asked.

“No. There are no screws on this side. It was connected with threads to connect to the other piece of the handle.”

“Where is the hanger? I can use the piece that holds it to apply pressure.”

Marinette handed him one of the hangers.

“I don’t think that will work. The hanger doesn’t have the piece like that. They connect directly onto the rack so the costumes are less likely to fall and be damaged, especially during shipping or when people get locked into the closet and stuck for all eternity.”

Damian started to laugh at her joke but then he realized she wasn’t actually joking. She was breathing heavily and was backed against the wall.

---

Marinette didn’t know what else to do. They had tried everything and they couldn’t get out. No one else would be there for hours. She held onto the wall and while her head was spinning. At least Damian couldn’t see her acting so foolishly. She bit her lip to control her breathing and hot tears ran down her cheeks. She could hear Damian moving but even with another beam of light shining in she still couldn’t see what he was doing. Maybe it was good that he hadn’t given up yet. It wouldn’t be great to have them both breaking down at the same time.

But Damian had not stopped at the door. He was right there in front of her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and she just knew that he could feel the wet spot where her tears had dripped down. She felt the fingers on his other hand on her cheek, gently wiping away her tears. She couldn’t hold in a sob at his tenderness. She covered her face with her hands but he didn’t let that stop him. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

---

Damian was not the first person anyone would go to when they were in distress but in this case he was the only one available. He made gentle hushing noises and smoothed her hair back from her face. He breathing had calmed but she was crying into her hands. She was struggling to get some distance so he could hear what she was saying. He caught just the last bit through her muffled tears.

“I’m crying all over your shirt,” she said.

“Don’t worry about my clothes. They will be fine,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m just not a huge fan of small spaces.”

He brushed the last of her tears from her cheeks. Her breathing was calmer now and he wasn’t sure what suddenly came over him. His hand was on her jaw and he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He could feel her gasp against his lips but he realized she had stayed rigid and not melted against him. She wasn't kissing him. He had kissed her while she was against a wall trapped with him in a small closet. He stumbled back from her.

---

Marinette was so distraught about being such a mess in front of him it took her a moment to process what had happened. He had just kissed her. He seemed just as shocked as her when he pulled away. She didn’t think he had planned it. She didn’t even think he could stand her. She could still feel him standing right in front of her. Not that he had many options for where to go. His hands dropped from her and they just stood there, inches apart for a moment.

He turned back to the door and tried to mess with the lock again. She could see his face in the light coming from the hole in the door. Two separate strands of light hit his face. She could see the tenseness in his cheekbone that she imagined moved down to his jaw. The other was shining directly on his lips. She touched her own remembering the feel of his on hers.

She could feel his bicep tense as she reached out and touched him. She had to force herself to breathe. He didn't pull away but he reserved any reaction waiting to see what she would do. She knelt down next to him and slid her hand up to his shoulder. If possible he tensed even more. She reached up with her other hand and tentatively touched his jaw. She could feel the bit of rugged stubble required for the scene today. It was much softer than she had imagined.

---

Damian didn't think he quite stopped the groan that came out as her fingers brushed along his jaw. He generally preferred clean shaven but as her fingers continued to move through his stubble he was gaining an appreciation for it. He moved slowly as her second hand moved up to his jaw. She seemed over the shock of being kissed against the wall while crying but he wanted to wait for her to make a move. It was torturously slow. She was being cautious too. But he felt her body shift and then her thumb brushed along his bottom lip.

Her lips met his as she leaned forward. Her hesitancy vanished when he responded. His hand moved back to her hair where it had been when he first entered the closet and covered her mouth. She pushed herself against him from her knees but he craved her closer. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his lap. She planned a knee on either side of his hip and wrapped her arms around his neck. He kept one arm around her waist and one threading through her hair as it cascaded out of the bun.

Damian wasn't sure how much time had passed. They had pulled away for air several times and shifted positions as well. Marinette's hair was fully down from her previous hair do and her clothing looked delightfully wrinkled when the door opened and light poured in. He watched her squint at the sudden brightness. He must look something like her. Her chest was heaving and her lips red and puffy. He was tempted to shut the door again and stay hidden with her longer.

---

Marinette was dazed when the door suddenly opened and poured light over them. Her eyes were shocked at the amount of light too quickly. She knew the person who opened the door could clearly tell what they had been doing. She looked away from the man's smirk and down at the floor. She glanced back up at Damian. His hair was sticking out in all directions and his shirt was untucked. He stood and reached to pull her to her feet. She noticed a couple buttons undone at the top of his shirt. She suddenly wondered about the buttons on her own blouse and turned away to fix them.

"Jon, it's great to see you. How did you know to look for us?"

"Your brother called and said you missed dinner and wouldn't answer your phone. I sent a video of a baby elephant being cute and you didn't react so I knew something had to be wrong," Jon said.

"We have been locked in here for hours. No phone or tools and the handle was broken."

"Sounds," Jon cleared his throat, "rough."

Marinette wasn't making eye contact. She had readjusted her clothes and pulled her hair into a low ponytail. She couldn't avoid the awkwardness anymore. She stepped into the hallway and both men looked at her. She opened her mouth but realized she had nothing to say. She turned on her heels quickly and started to rush away. Her cheeks were burning and she thought she might start crying again.

What had she been thinking? There were all sorts of rumors about what kind of man Damian might be. It was widely thought that he remained single so he could hook up with women from all over and pay them for their silence. There had been all a lot of suggestions about who he might secretly be involved with but there had never been a confirmed relationship. She just knew things at work would end up very awkward if anyone found out. Both her and Damian were professional so perhaps they could manage to hide the awkwardness until the end of the project and then never see each other again.

"Marinette?" Damian's voice was quiet and he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Would you like to go to dinner tonight? I need to freshen up a bit but I imagine you are as hungry as I am."

He sounded so uncertain. She wondered what he was thinking. Everything felt perfect when they were alone but in the sudden light and openness they were uncertain again.

"I'd like that," she said.

They both took a few minutes making themselves presentable and gathering their things. Marinette was happy she wouldn't have to catch the late night subway. Damian introduced his friend Jon and said he would keep everything about the incident to himself. She was grateful for that and for him waiting on the introduction until she had fixed her appearance. His hand hovered at her back at they walked out. Jon excused himself and left them alone as they got in the car.

Marinette buckled her seatbelt in silence. When she looked over Damian hadn't started the car. He was watching her. When she looked at him he leaned towards her. She met his lips as they gently brushed against each hers. Her heart was suddenly pounding again.

"I was aching to do that again," he said.

He turned back and started the car to take her on their first date.

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