#jobs that make more money and sound fancy when you brag to people

[missazura]

every time i feel guilty of being myself I think about the ways that I need to conform to my family's expectations and it makes me miserable. I don't know how to deal with that. obviously they want me to not be me and just. I don't know. be better or something. but that consists of throwing away what makes me, me

[gamerwoo]

Hyunjin: Age-Restricted (Part Eighteen)

Characters: Hyunjin x female reader (ft other skz members)

Genre/warnings: nanny!reader, ex-porn star/neighbor!hyunjin, generally inexperienced and painfully shy virgin!reader, fluff, humor, mentions of porn and sex work, hyunjin is stupid in love and also has a thing for tall girls (it doesn't necessarily say reader is taller than him but he does beg her to wear heels so interpret that how you want), hyunjin is very much not straight, lots and lots of flirting and teasing, mentions of kinks and stuff but no smut happens sorry <;3 (minors dni!!!)

Word count: 6,074

Summary: You think it’s luck when the new family you nanny for is so stupid rich that they rent you a fancy new apartment just so you can live closer to them. You think it’s luck when the guy across the hall is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your entire life and makes an effort to talk to you. But that’s just about where your luck runs out, because Hyunjin is more out of your league than you could ever imagine, and you’re just some hopeless virgin who never had good luck in the first place.

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He knew you’d have questions. Hyunjin expected nothing less, but you made sure to tell him you were curious but would only ask questions if he was comfortable with it. Considering you found out everything about him when he’d ended things, you never really got a chance to ask him anything. But he was 100% okay with answering any question you had, and he planned on being fully open and honest.

That first night that Hyunjin apologized, he was fully prepared to go home alone, but you told him he could stay. Even if you were mad still, you missed him. And that was where your questioning started.

“So then how did you get into porn?” was your first question, and it was the one he expected to be first.

He had gone to his apartment to change into clothes to sleep in, and the two of you were laying in your bed, inhumanly close. You missed each other and he didn’t know how to tell you that he still didn’t feel close enough even with your entire body on top of his without sounding weird.

“Changbin,” he stated simply.

“So you both got into porn when he said he was gonna do it?” you assumed.

He nodded, “I also really needed money, aaaaand I was basically going nowhere. I really liked art and I wanted to be an artist, but getting into that industry is fucking hard, so I just…went for porn. It was pretty easy for anyone to get into, anyway – at least in that area of Vegas. There were so many sleazeballs looking for amateurs.”

“So how’d it go in the beginning?”

“Honestly, shockingly well,” he scoffed. “I don’t mean to, like, sound like I’m bragging, but I kind of took off almost instantly. Directors and producers and shit were saying I just had the perfect face and a good body, and everyone wanted to have me in their videos. It was actually really overwhelming, but I needed all the money I could get so I just ran with it.”

“That actually sounds kind of terrifying,” you nodded.

“Oh, I think you would’ve gone into shock and died,” he nodded along with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him and he just grinned.

“Anyway,” you stated.

“Anyway,” he laughed.

“What about Changbin?”

“He was only a little salty that I was getting more jobs than him, but he worked his way up there. Plus, I paid most of our rent so he couldn’t complain that much.”

You suddenly realized something, letting out a gasp, “Wait, were you the mutual friend that got him and Kit together?”

“Yup.”

“What happened?!” you squealed.

“‘Kay, so as I said, I got popular fast. I caught the attention of bigger producers and directors who worked with bigger names. Big names like…”

“Kat Valentyne,” you finished, saying her name with pizazz and doing spirit fingers to really sell her porn name.

He laughed and rolled his eyes, his laugh making you shake as you laid face-down on top of him, “She’s been a big name almost since she started. Word got out to the people she went to school with that she got hot and was in porn, so it got spread around along with old photos of her, so it kinda made headlines online.

“But anyway, I got cast in a scene opposite her, and I knew–”

“Hang on a minute,” you interrupted him, and that was when he realized what he’d just given away. “So you mean to tell me that you fucked Kit?”

He was quick to point a finger at you and look you dead in the eyes, “I never had feelings for her and I still don’t. Never will.”

“No, Hyunjin–” you sighed and shook your head. “You’re telling me that you were mad that she only flirted with me and looked at me a certain way, but you already had sex with her?! That’s not even fair!”

All he did in response was roll his eyes before continuing, “Anyway, so I knew Changbin had a fat fucking crush on her since forever, so I figured I’d throw his name out there. I showed her a couple photos of him and she thought he was cute aaaaand yeah. Rest is history.”

“I still can’t believe you got mad when you had sex with Kit…” you mumbled.

“Are you even upset that I had sex with her or just that I got jealous over her?”

“I know it was your job,” you scoffed, waving away his concern. “I trust you. I mean, she’s also dating your best friend.”

“I also just don’t want to date her,” he added.

“But how come you get to fuck her, but god forbid she look at me the wrong way?” you huffed.

“I think it’s suddenly bedtime,” he told you before he pulled the covers up over your head, and then rolled over on top of you.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” you squealed between laughs.

“Can’t hear you, goodnight!”

-

Hyunjin wanted to do the proper thing: take you on a fancy date. And what better way to do that than using your ex-boss’ certificate to go to that fancy restaurant? It seemed like a very fitting way to celebrate the two of you making up.

Unfortunately, the only fancy thing you owned was your old prom dresses, so that meant shopping.

As far as you could tell, Hyunjin would be an expert at fancy. While you mostly ever saw him in t-shirts and sweatshirts – you had still seen him in other clothes like jeans, button-ups, and such – they were always expensive. So he must’ve owned fancy clothing, right? He must’ve known what rich people considered acceptable since clearly the dude was loaded.

You were pretty sure you’d never seen someone look so goddamn good in just some black jeans and a baggy button-up shirt with one half tucked in, but Hyunjin was just another level. You were wondering if he was even human, actually. Maybe he was actually an android or something.

“You’re staring,” he noted as you watched him brush through his dark hair before leaving the apartment.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

He just laughed, eyes turning into crescent moons.

You missed his smile.

While you were browsing through clothes at a store you felt far too out of place in, Hyunjin mentioned, “Pick out whatever you like. I’ll cover it.”

“Um, no?” you turned around to tell him. “You’re already paying for my apartment – which, by the way, still stop.”

“I can afford it, don’t worry about it,” he promised, waving the worry away.

Which then sparked more questions about him.

“Did you just make a ton of money back then?” you wondered.

He shrugged, “More than most. I did save most of it, but– …Actually, we’ll talk more in the car. I gotta take you somewhere for you to get it.”

“Get what?”

“It.”

You made a face at him and rolled your eyes before going back to looking at dresses, “So, uh…what’s considered…fancy?”

“Do you want form fitting or more flowy?” he asked as he started perusing the racks as well.

“Do you also want to pay for my shapewear?” you asked sarcastically.

He shrugged, “If you think you need it, I’ll buy whatever you want.”

You frowned, obviously not happy with his answer. But again, he grinned back at you.

-

Dress and shoes acquired, you were back in Hyunjin’s car, driving to an unknown location. All he’d said was, “I’m gonna show you something.”

You didn’t plan on getting shoes, but Hyunjin was quick to ask after picking out a dress if you had any shoes for the occasion. You’d said something about wanting to find just a cute pair of flats, but Hyunjin turned to face you with wide eyes.

“Please wear heels,” he begged, clinging onto your arms for dear life.

“I never wear heels,” you told him. “I’ll be too tall.”

“No you won’t,” he stated very seriously. “Wear. Heels.”

You did end up getting a pair of heels that you were totally not persuaded to get due to the fact you were very positive that Hyunjin found it hot when you were taller. As if he wouldn’t have bought them for you anyway because he liked how you looked in them. If the way he eyed you up and down and almost drooled on the marbled floor was any indication.

“Soooo,” Hyunjin began, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, “have you ever noticed anything in my apartment?”

“Are we talking about the mirrors?” you asked.

“You need to get past the mirrors, baby.”

“So that’s a no. What was I supposed to notice?”

He chuckled, “Maybe something on the walls…?”

“Art!” you gasped, recalling the times you’d been over and noticed that large canvases were always evenly spaced across the walls of the hallway, and a few were put in his living room and his kitchen.

He nodded, “Very good. What about the art?”

“It’s…there!” you pointed out, much less enthusiastically. “It’s on the walls!”

Thank god he was stopped at a stop sign because he looked at you with an unamused look for a painfully long time.

“Hyunjin, when have I ever had time to sit in your apartment and look at the art?” you asked him, trying to prove a point. “We were usually in your bedroom, and even when we were on the couch, we were cuddling and watching something or laying down and watching something, or we weren’t even watching anything because we were doing other things!”

He scoffed with a wide smile and asked, “You can’t even say making out? You have to say ‘other things’?”

“What about the art, Hyunjin?” you asked sharply, wanting him to move on from the route he was about to take.

After a bit of laughing, Hyunjin replied, “Most of the art has the same signature.”

“That’s so interesting,” you deadpanned, still not getting it.

You also weren’t paying attention to where he was driving, but he finally pulled into a lot outside of what looked like another apartment building. He put the car in park and pulled out the key before he looked at you again. Again, he was unamused.

He eyed you up and down before noting, “You’ve gotten more sassy, huh?”

“I’m not trying to be, I just don’t understand!”

“Come on, babydoll,” he patted your thigh before he got out of the car. “I’ll show you.”

He took you into the building and into an elevator. You noted that he stuck a silver key from his keyring into a keyhole in the elevator, turned it, and pressed the button for the top floor. You and Hyunjin waited side-by-side at the back of the elevator. He was on his phone while you were watching the numbers on the LED screen above the doors.

“Have you talked to Kit or Changbin?” you asked him.

“They know everything,” he nodded, still not looking up from his phone. He assumed you were asking because you wanted to know if they were caught up. “I told them after you fell asleep last night.”

“After I was suffocated,” you corrected.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he scoffed, finally looking at you to smirk.

“Oh, says you of all people.”

“Touché.”

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. The top floor seemed to be a penthouse, but it was all open space with large windows all on the back wall. The rest of the walls were exposed brick and covered in half-finished and fully-finished paintings. Scattered around the space were easels that either held canvases, white stained drapes, or nothing at all. There were a handful of stools around the area, and lots of art supplies. There were two large desks on either side of the room, with more art supplies and sketchbooks and canvases.

“Since we’re being completely open and honest now,” Hyunjin smiled at you, gesturing with an arm to the space while he guided you in with the other around your waist, “welcome to my studio. This is how I’ve made so much money.”

You looked at him, eyes bugging out of your head, “What, you’re some huge artist?”

He pointed at a painting that seemed to be finished, leaning up against the wall as it stood on the floor.

“There’s the signature. On most of the ones at home.”

You walked over and bent down to get a closer look. It looked mostly like a bunch of scribbles, but you could make out a large S and a large H.

“No offense, but what does it say?” you ask. “There’s no S in your name.”

“Sam Hyun,” he replied. “When I lived in Vegas, I went by Sam Hwang, and my name is Hyunjin. I combined the two.”

You turned around to face him again, head tilting slightly to one side as you studied him, “You actually do look like a Sam…”

He shrugged, “Thanks, I think.”

“It’s a good thing. Sam’s not an ugly name, y’know? You could’ve been something ugly like…Frank. Or you could’ve been a Kyle.”

He gave you a strangle look as he chuckled, “What’s wrong with Kyle? It’s a common name, no?”

“Kyle itself is a red flag,” you stated knowingly.

“Would you still love me if my name was Bartholomew?” he asked suddenly with a giggle.

“Fuck no,” you replied immediately.

“Just take a fucking guess what Changbin almost made his stage name.”

You gasped, “You’re kidding.”

“He’s so fucking lucky we went back to Vegas for our first auditions because he met one of my old buddies names Xavior and thought his name sounded cool, so he used that as his stage name instead. But he was dead set on Batholomew.”

“Why?” you asked with a disgusted face.

“His mind works in mysterious ways,” he shrugged.

“So…Kat Valentyne and Xavior…something?” you asked.

“Xavior Chang,” he scoffed. “He couldn’t come up with a second name but he didn’t want to copy me and use just one – even though I told him I didn’t think he was copying me, but whatever. But honestly, after the movie with him and Kit, she kept slipping up and calling him Binnie so now that’s basically all he’s known as now.”

You nodded slowly as you started to look around the large space. Hyunjin just stood and watched you, hands in his pockets.

“So…how did you come up with Sam Hyun?” you wondered. “Why not just use your name?”

“Because I was in porn and I was afraid of ever being connected back to it,” he explained. “Anyone could google my stage name and find out my real one. With being an artist, I wanted absolutely everything to be separated from what I was doing during the day. Nobody had a face to the art, either. Sam Hyun is untraceable. As far as anyone knows, Sam Hyun is my real name. Separate from Hwang Hyunjin, and therefore, separate from Jin.”

“So…you’re like Banksy.”

“Yeah, like Banksy.”

“So how’d it happen, then? The switch between porn and art?”

“I was doing art at the same time, but more as a hobby. I kind of gave up when it never took off. But one day, out of nowhere, I got really lucky. Something I made got noticed at a show by some big name and they offered a lot more than it should’ve been worth, honestly,” he laughed like he still couldn’t believe it. “That just kinda…put my name on the map, I guess. And once I had that break, I left the industry and focused full-time on this.”

A small smile broke on your face as you looked at him, “That’s kinda sweet. You get to do the thing you actually love.”

He nodded, “I got very lucky. Still am very lucky.” he added the last part with a warm, happy half-smile at you, just looking at you with the most lovesick expression anyone had ever seen.

You started looking around again, wandering between easels and canvases, looking around at everything Hyunjin had made. You never knew he could draw, but fuck, was he talented. It was mostly people and a handful of scenery pieces thrown in there, but everything you saw was so insanely good. 

You hadn’t noticed Hyunjin had wandered over behind you as you studied a seemingly random couple he’d drawn, their bodies filled in with a watercolor sunset, until he softly asked, “Do you wanna see something?”

You looked at him to silently say you were paying attention to whatever he wanted to show you, and he guided you over to an easel that was covered by a white drape. It was obvious that there was a large canvas underneath, but you weren’t going to uncover anything that was covered. That would be rude.

Hyunjin reached up to gently pull the sheet off so as to not knock over the painting. Your mouth fell open as your eyes widened in awe, seeing the portrait of you and Hyunjin. It was done in the same exact style as the piece you were just looking at – just the messy-on-purpose black outline from the shoulders up, and being filled in with warm tones that blended together – but this was very clearly supposed to be you and Hyunjin staring deeply at each other. Your lips were only inches apart as one of his hands cupped your cheek, looking at you with his signature smirk, but even in a picture, he was able to capture the way he looked at you like you were the entire universe. And you looked back at him in a way that very much mimicked how you looked at the piece: in pure awe. Your eyes were wide and your lips were parted, your hand holding lightly onto his arm just a couple inches down from his wrist. The colors used to fill in your bodies were similar to the first painting but the reds, yellows, and oranges were put in different spots. It was somehow more pleasing, but maybe you were being biased.

“The one you were just looking at was based off of this,” Hyunjin explained to you softly. “I made this one a while ago, but when things got…really shitty between us, I tried to replicate it to sell it. As you could probably tell, I gave up. Wasn’t as good as the original.”

“Holy shit, Hyunjin,” you breathed, unable to take your eyes off of it.

“If you think this is insane, you should see my most recent sketchbook,” he chuckled. “You’d probably think I’m a psycho.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized what he’d said before, looking back at him, “Were you going to sell this?”

He scoffed, “Absolutely not. I was gonna keep it, but I like the style of it and thought it would sell well. But this is priceless – even if it’s half a self portrait.”

You frowned at him and lightly whacked him in the stomach, making him laugh, “You’re literally a God, you freak.”

“Yeah, well,” he sighed as he draped an arm casually around your shoulder, “you really are your own biggest critic. Drawing myself took the longest fucking time.”

“You definitely look at me like that,” you promised, pointing at him on the portrait. “And I definitely look lost all the time like that.”

“You’re not lost,” he scoffed again, rolling his eyes. “I’m literally right there.”

You started laughing, “That was stupid cheesy.”

“The cheese gets worse, don’t worry,” he promised with a smirk as he started to lead you over to one of the tables. He brought you to a closed sketchbook that looked much less beat-up than the other ones. “This is my newer sketchbook. I got it a little bit before I met you, actually.”

He gently pushed you forward to stand at the table and open it. You flipped it open and started going through it slowly, seeing him use different mediums to make different things. It was mostly people – people you’d never seen before, but a couple that you’d seen at The Brooke. But after about 5 pages, you flipped the next page to see you, holding a moving box. It was a charcoal sketch from your thighs up, and it was only somewhat shaded. But it was very clearly you, laughing as you carried the cardboard box.

The next page was you again, but from the side, and only from your shoulders up. Your expression was neutral and you seemed to be looking at something. The next page was, again, you, smiling with your eyes closed. The next page was you, and the next, and the next, and the next.

“I like to draw people that I see,” he explained. “Clearly, I saw you once and couldn’t get you out of my head. I’ve drawn you a lot since I’ve met you.”

You kept flipping, and every single page was you. But then you got to the last few sketches in the book, and you only looked sad. You looked disheveled or upset. There was even one of you with tears on your cheeks with your eyes casted down.

“I kinda never stopped drawing you,” he admitted quietly. “Even when I was mad at you, I still thought about you all the time.”

There were a couple drawings of you scattered in the sad ones where you looked happy again, and it tugged at your heart. Even when you were both upset, Hyunjin seemed to still think of you when you were happy, like he wanted to see it again.

The last 10 pages or so were still blank, so you closed the sketchbook again and turned to face Hyunjin, cheeks feeling hot from seeing how often he drew you. He could tell you were flustered and grinned widely at you.

“I’m pretty cute, huh?” he asked with a modest shrug.

“How come I never knew you could draw?” you asked him, poking his chest with your finger.

“Changbin and Kit have seen me doodle on stuff here and there, but they don’t know about all this,” he explained. “This is top secret. Nobody knows about it because I don’t want there being any possible ties between Sam Hyun and Jin, y’know? They’re both me, but nobody else knows they are. I want to make sure it stays that way. But since we’re working on honesty, I figured you’d be a good first person to tell.”

You nodded, “I won’t say a word.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” he promised with a mischievous grin before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

-

You’d never seen Hyunjin dress up before, but boy did he dress up. There was a lot of black, but a lot of chains and silver and mesh. Everything just looked expensive and extravagant, and despite having Hyunjin help you pick out what to wear earlier that day, you somehow felt severely underdressed beside him.

Despite that, the way Hyunjin looked at you made you feel like the best looking person at the restaurant. When you first got dressed and you were doing your makeup in his bathroom, he was sitting on the counter by where your makeup was spread out, going between looking at his phone and glancing up at you with a soft smile.

But when you put on the heels, he was gone. His eyes only left you so he could drive, but he kept stealing glances. He looked at you probably the way you looked at him. Like you were God and had descended down in front of him. You weren’t even sure if you’d make it to the restaurant because you were almost positive there were a couple times he almost passed out.

“You’re oddly quiet now,” Hyunjin mused as he looked over the menu with you – he had to help you with some things because you’d never had a lot of the food they offered. It was all fancy stuff with big words.

You glanced away from the words that didn’t even seem like real words to look at him, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve rambled off so many questions today and now you’re dead silent,” he chuckled. “Feeling okay?”

You felt your cheeks warm a bit as you mumbled, “I’m not gonna ask those questions out in public, Hyunjin.”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Oh, as if anyone is listening to us. They’re all talking about business and nannies and vacations and shit that’s important to rich people. Dates are meant for talking to get to know each other. You should feel comfortable asking me anything.”

You knew he was right about dates being made for getting to know each other, but you still felt nervous to ask questions about sex and porn where people might hear it. What if some rich person overheard and thought you were weird and got you kicked out?

It took a couple minutes of silent internal encouragement, but you finally asked in almost a whisper, “What…kind did you do…?”

His laugh was louder than your words but nobody seemed to notice, “Both. Gay and straight. Does that bother you?”

You shrugged like he told you it was a little cloudy outside, “Not really. I mean, unless you prefer guys, in which case, that would make me kinda insecure probably.”

“My preference is you, dummy,” he told you with a playful smile.

“I meant…sex-wise,” your voice got quieter on the last word, which made Hyunjin laugh again.

“No preference there.”

“Okay, maybe this is a dumb question–”

“No dumb questions.”

“Sure. How did you, like…not fall in love with every single person? I get it’s mostly acting and stuff but that’s some serious acting. I would be convinced everyone actually loved me and cared about me and would catch feelings everyday.”

“I learned how to separate my feelings from my work,” he explained. “To me, sex was just sex, and my feelings were basically shut off when I was doing it. But that was only when I was working. It’s different with you.”

“We’ve never…done that,” you reminded him.

“I mean with everything else. We’ve done other stuff. Unless you forgot about that when we were mad at each other,” he smirked.

“Trust me, Hyun, I remember,” you promised.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his smirk growing and making you feel things you did not want to feel in the middle of a restaurant full of a bunch of important and rich people. “Because I don’t mind jogging your memory.”

-

Despite the first conversation at the restaurant, the rest of the date was the most romantic experience you’d ever had. You were starting to learn that despite Hyunjin’s line of work and claiming he could turn off his feelings, he was a true hopeless romantic – not that you didn’t know before, but now it was painfully obvious. He ordered for you, held open doors for you, and asked a lot of questions about you. The two of you had already caught up on new happenings since you last spoke, but now Hyunjin was asking you questions about your future. What field were you going to look for a job in? Have you considered going to school for something? How did you get into nannying in the first place? Did that mean you wanted kids?

You learned more about him, other than just his previous job. You learned more about his friendship with Changbin, his life in Las Vegas, and everything outside and in between. How he got out of the industry and how he found himself living at The Brooke and befriending the two bellhops who worked the night shift. More about his early life pre-porn and even some stories from his life while he was in that industry, but about stuff that was separate from it.

You felt like the whole time, his eyes never left yours. You weren’t even sure if he ever looked down while eating his food to see what he was picking up with his utensils, but his plate was cleared by the end of the date. 

To be fair, you weren’t sure of many things because Hyunjin kept refilling your wine glass whenever it was empty. He got some fancy bottle brought to the table in an ice bucket and while it was meant to share, you weren’t sure if he had any of it or if you’d drank the whole thing. You saw him with a glass but then you were too lost in his eyes to notice much else. When his stare got too much and you felt nervous like you had to look away, you looked down at your own food instead of focusing on whatever he was doing.

Back in the car, Hyunjin drove with a hand on your thigh and the other on the wheel. Despite your tipsy state and him teasing you about forgetting the things you’d done together, he was being a complete gentleman. The most he’d done was just then as his warm palm rested on the exposed skin of your leg. 

“I have a follow-up question,” you announced suddenly between Hyunjin humming along with the music.

“Yes, angel?”

“Can you elaborate on the ‘sex without feelings’ thing?” you asked.

He chuckled and glanced at you, “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Just now. Just going over stuff in my head, y’know?”

“How much wine have you had, my love?” he continued to laugh.

“Whatever you didn’t drink, I did,” you stated surely.

After his laughter had died down, though, he replied, “The people I worked with, I never had romantic feelings for. When I was starting out, it happened a couple times until I learned. I had a couple…situationships, I suppose during my time in the industry, and I didn’t try to disassociate from my feelings because obviously they were supposed to be relationships. But with them, it always felt like they were trying so hard to make it like a scene that I just auto-blocked it all out anyway. It kinda sucked.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you looked over at Hyunjin, “That doesn’t happen now, right?”

“Absolutely not, angel,” he looked back at you with a soft smile before looking back at the road. “With you, everything is so much better than any sex I’ve ever had. Feelings really do make it. I actually get turned on and everything feels more intense. It just feels… I don’t know how to explain it other than everything is better because there’s feelings. I can’t not feel things for you, _____.”

“Awww,” you giggled as your cheeks began to warm. “Shut the fuck up, you’re too cute.”

“Not to say,” he quickly added, “if you did want to do anything a little…raunchier in the future, that I would hate it. I think in that case, it would be okay because the feelings are still there. It was just with those people, they made it seem like they only saw me as Jin and not Hyunjin, if that makes sense.”

You nodded, “No, I get that. That does make me feel better, though."

 The two of you fell into a comfortable silence for another moment until you thought of another question, shyly asking, "So, um…what’re you…into…?”

You could see the smirk growing on his face as the streetlamps flooded through the windshield as he drove, “I’ll do just about anything if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But what are you personally into?” you pressed curiously, though you were sure Hyunjin would be able to tell how flustered you were. “Like, if you didn’t have to worry about your partner.”

“Hair pulling,” was his immediate response. “I love having my hair pulled.”

You eyed his hair as it currently was. He kept it on the long-ish side and it was almost always half-up. Even in the one video of his you saw, his hair was at his shoulders.

“Yeah, that math adds up,” you nodded. “I think you like dirty talking, too.”

He let out a laugh as he glanced between you and the road, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You were smiling, too, because of his laugh as you replied, “You would always talk a lot to me. You’re just really vocal.”

“You react well when I do talk to you,” he pointed out before he leaned over toward you, his lips almost brushing your ear. “You like the dirty talk, _____.”

A shiver went down your spine as he pulled away, and you were pretty sure Hyunjin noticed from the way his smirk widened and his chest quickly rose and fell like he scoffed. But he didn’t say anything about it, and you were too shy to confirm or deny. So he went back to quietly humming along to his music.

-

Both Felix and Jeongin were behind the counter when you and Hyunjin returned back to The Brooke. When you left that evening, it was only Jeongin who was punching in for work and making a comment about how dolled up the two of you were. When you came strolling into the empty lobby with your hands intertwined, Felix’s jaw was just about on the floor as Jeongin started smirking.

“Nice to see the two of you still look presentable,” the younger boy noted. “I thought for sure Hyunjin was gonna pounce at some point.”

“I don’t blame him,” Felix choked out a laugh as he started to regain his composure. “Either of you. You both look incredible.”

Your face had already been warm from the wine and Hyunjin’s compliments, but Felix made it feel hotter, “Thanks.”

“What’s the occasion?” he wondered.

“Make up date,” Hyunjin stated, stopping at the front desk to chat with them. “We went somewhere nice for free, thanks to _____’s asshole ex-bosses.”

Jeongin nodded, “You love to see it.”

“Now,” Hyunjin released your hand to place his hands on your shoulders, “I need to get this one to bed since she drank almost an entire bottle of wine by herself.”

“You kept pouring!” you insisted.

“But you kept drinking,” he countered with a playful grin.

“You can’t start gaslighting her when you just got back together,” Jeongin told him with a sigh and a shake of his head.

“But it’s official now,” Hyunjin pointed out with a wide grin that made his eyes crinkle.

Felix nodded in understanding, “Oh, then it’s totally okay now.”

“See ya later, guys!” he chirped as he turned you and started leading you toward the elevators.

“Don’t be too loud, please!” Jeongin laughed after the two of you. “I don’t feel like getting a ton of noise complaints tonight!”

That’s where your mind was, actually. Hyunjin had done this big gesture for you. He made an entire day out of it, too. He brought you to his gallery and showed you all of the art he made, and half of it was of you. He brought you shopping and got you expensive clothes and accessories for the fancy date he brought you on. This all must’ve been leading up to him taking your virginity now, right? Hyunjin definitely seemed like the type of person who wanted to make that something big and romantic and special. You half expected to go into his apartment and see rose petals leading to his bed.

Even if it wasn’t that far, he’d probably want to do something, right?

But instead, he stopped with you outside your apartment. You looked up at him in confusion, “Are we staying at my place?”

“You are,” he chuckled.

“What?”

“_____, it’s our first date,” he explained, still laughing softly at your confusion. “I’m doing things traditionally. It seems right. So you sleep here, I sleep over there, and I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

You pouted but mumbled an, “Okay…”

Did you feel disappointed? Kind of. But did you also feel relieved? A little bit. You were pretty sure you were wearing some ugly cotton thong you’d gotten at the department store, anyway.

Hyunjin kissed your pouting lips, which brought a small smile to your face as he beamed back at you, “Goodnight, _____.”

“Goodnight, Hyunjin,” you replied before turning to unlock your door.

And once you were inside, you had to call your friends to tell them everything.

————✧♡✧————-

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[normaltothemax]

"It sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this," she snorts. Pretty funny, hearing the rich guy explain how exactly the rich should be eaten. She supposes he probably knows more about rich people food than her, though, so she'll allow it. The best she can manage (and only some of the time, at that) is boxed Kraft Dinner. "It sounds fancy, at least." She's not sure she even knows what stroganoff is, but she'll keep that to herself.

The street rat comment goes over her head, if she's honest. Max has never spent much time thinking about the Waynes. She knows Brucie adopts kids left and right, and she knows they're richer than god, but really, that's about it. Maybe she'll have to Google Jason Todd when she gets home. Despite not knowing much about them, the descriptions of what he expects Brett to write make her frown. I'm used to it. That...she doesn't like that. "Still sucks," she can't help but comment. She needs a new job. He's a big boy, though—if he says he can handle it, it's not up to her to decide he can't.

"I could be a terrible photographer, for all you know." Now, she's just being contrary. Max is good at what she does. It's not bragging, it's just the truth. Raising her camera again, she takes a quick picture of him—he's got a nice smile, sue her (actually, don't, she can't afford that, Jason). "If we stage it, it'll look staged," she explains. "You just do your thing. I'll get the money shot.

"Well, there is Condiment King but no one deserves that fate." A wince as he recalls having the smell of mustard in his helmet, burning his sinuses to hell. He was never able to get it out of that one. Had to replace it.

"I see where you're coming from, but most of the expensive stuff that rich people eat is just costly because of specific, absurdly priced ingredients. Caviar, wagyu beef, gold leaf, that shit. You can add most any of that to whatever meal and make it high priced. And most of the ones you see in pictures and articles on big spender menus are made just with what makes it cost a lot and no regard to how the flavors might actually taste together. Nothing more disappointing than spending a lot on food that tastes like shit, even if it isn't your own money." He pauses to think it over, running over everything Alfred had taught him about preparing a good dinner versus merely a showy meal and contrasts it with the kind of ingredients he mentioned and what could actually be useful. "Maybe some really good cheese and some black truffle mushrooms as part of a dish? Oh how about a meaty stroganoff with Gruyère cheese straight from Sweden and a sprinkle of the truffles. A little fancy, works well together, and based on a solid meal most any proletariat can enjoy. Best of both worlds."

"Yeah, I figured that. My guess is it'll be something about how the street rat prodigal has no sense of decorum in an event like this, spends a wasteful amount in a senseless display of ill bred greed. Likely a dig at Bruce having poor judgement in sending me. Or he could surprise with a creative, new angle, that'd be interesting." He shrugs. "I'm used to it. At the least I chose this. And the pictures will be good." He lifts the pen once more and offers her another smile. "So how do you want me?"

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it.  he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that.  so happy ❤️ 

View all 9,208 comments

caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story.  Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.  

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes?  Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him.  Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard.  ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’).  But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’  a source close to the couple reported.  

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.  

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’ 

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right.  To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar. 

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.  

Is this the best she thinks she can do?  So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer. 

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate.  From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship.  Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson??  I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea.  “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious.  “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second.  He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment.  “I haven’t talked to him in… years?  I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it.  And it had a lot of gossip material— we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other.  But he has his own problems.  I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl.  You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him.  “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first.  Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name.  And I’m not perfect.  Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly.  “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries.  When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away.  “Don’t read the comments, okay?  None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well.  In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously?  I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words.  “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing.  I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured.  “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it?  Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted.  "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

//

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head.  In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized.  What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker.  “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway.  BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door.  Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face.  “Are you—?’

“Hungry?  Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk.  “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified.  “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you!  Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl.  “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space.  “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked.  “And not just with random delivery drivers.  I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough 

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!”  You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained.  “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen?  By people?” 

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes.  “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened.  “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked.  “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning.  “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed.  “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off.  “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought.  “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.  

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do.  I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled.  “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky.  “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table.  “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already.  I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb.  I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you.  I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek.  “I think so, too.”

//

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress.  “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant?  You’re still paying me,” he reminded you.  “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff.  You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided.  “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard?  Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever.  As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress.  Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet.  It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

[arcadejohn127-9]

Heyyy, I hope you’re doing ok! I love ur blog and I know we’re strangers who will possibly never meet but Recently, the little things have pushed me over the edge and close to an anxiety attack I presume but I’ve been using knitting and crochet to cope. It sounds weird Ik, but may u do the brothers and Undateables with an MC who does that and MC just ends up making so much stuff in one day that she gives it away to them. I’m so sorry if it’s weird, pls feel free to choose whether to do it or not but this blog has made me a little happier than before, thank you for reading and being here!

I actually use to do knitting, never finished anything and lost interest but it was really calming and fun. Couldn't keep my attention for long as it was very repetitive and got boring quickly but I always just genuinely enjoyed it despite that?

Stress knitting seems like the most wholesome way to handle anxiety and stress, it helps you focus on something else, you're being productive and having fun aswell as being safe! Though do be careful with the needles

And thank you for being here and supporting me, I'm glad I could make you feel even a little bit happier, a small amount of happiness is better than none! So thank you for making my night with how kind you are! Your habit and anxiety relief isn't weird at all, I don't see how it could be weird tbh

Sorry this took so long, I feel stupid now but I got really stumped on some of them on what to make but now I'm laughing at myself due to how obvious they were

Lucifer:

You made him mug holders and now it's all he uses

"It's very useful, I'll take extra care of it - no need to worry."

He can handle the heat but he must use what you've made

You even made a massive sweater and socks for Cerberus

How you got his dogs measurements is beyond him but it was the most prominent things he uses from your biggest pile

But he was no fool, he knew you

He knew your habits and how you've grown more anxious

He isn't always the most available person with his emotions and with his schedule

But he was always willing to listen to your issues

Mammon:

You made him a money pouch - how could he not be happy??!!

He loves jingling it to hear all his latest 'finds'

What was even better you made him a sweater he got to wear for his modeling job and show off to Everyone

That article was an interesting find

"CHECK IT! everyone loved your sweater! I say we can make a bussiness with this."

But when you come handing him a large bag full of your latest projects he can't help but raise a brow

He's greedy, he loves being showered in gifts

But he knew you, he took note on your emotional

He got pouty but he hugged your shoulders

Reminding you that you can always come to him and he'll make you feel better

Levithan:

You made him knitted wrist support, for his long gaming sessions

He wears them pretty much everyday at this point

Not only are they comfortable and helpful

But you made them! Specifically for him! For him to use! YOU MADE IT!

Has bragged to his gaming friends about it one too many times

"My player 2 is obviously better than yours, does yours knit cute things for you? I thought so."

Also you made him a crotchet plush of his favourite animal crossing chatacter, he prefers the Devildom version of the game but he's a sucker for bright cute things

Anything he could he'd either put in on his desk or on his figure cupboards

But when you come in with a massive pile, strained smile he felt himself panic

You both have anxiety, you were comrades in it! So of course he knew how knitting was part of your coping mechanism

He felt annoyed and worried on why you weren't coming to him but quickly calmed himself down, when he saw he patted your head

Explaining you can always come to him because you're in this together

He definitely stole a line or two from his latest favourite media

Satan:

Crotchet chair cat paw socks was his favourite out of the pile

"They're little paws..... I need these for all my furniture!"

His second favourite is the baggy sweater you knitted for him

He's going to cherish these gifts until he dies

Which could be never

Though even in death he'd be keeping what you've made him

Worried about the massive increase as he knows it's coping for your anxiety

He's read books about anxiety so he has a fair amount of knowledge on it

Insists you can always come to him when you're worried

Asmodeus:

He adored everything you made!

The sweater had little holes in them? He doesn't care and even smirks at the holes

"wanting to expose my beautiful skin~? I don't blame you."

Made a scarf? He'll wear that instead of his usual black one

Just knitted squares or unwearable things? Proudly shows off your work

Is concerned you've been so ridden with anxiety

He wants to help as much as he can, he has teas and bath scents for these kind of things

Just say the word and he'll bring all of it out

Beezlebub:

A crotchet layered burger he can take apart because it's velcro-ed together??!

It's like a real burger!

He tries not to bite or chew on it but it has happened before

Would feel awful if he accidentally ripped it

"I love it, are you going to make more?"

Didn't expect for you to actually make more

As time went on he learned that it helps you calm down from anxiety

So he especially didn't expect you to come in with a massive bag full of your latest creation's

He immediately got worried

You wanted to show them off to distract your mind but he just grabbed your head

Gently moving it so you looked at him

He told you he wants to help and he'll be there for you, no matter what and no matter when

Belphegor:

You made him w blanket - you know how young children are normally seen with baby blankets? Just always carrying them around

Yeah that's him

"You can't make me take it off Lucifer-! This is MY gift from (Y/N) and I'm going to make sure everyone sees it!"

Always showing off the blanket you made him by carrying it around or having it wrapped around him

He loves it! He also loves the pillow covers you made! It helps spice up his pillow collection

But you can't hide your anxiety from him, he goes out of his way to give people it

And soon he found out how kitting was a coping mechanism

He felt a little special you were making him things because it calmed you down but also worried about your mental health

The concern RISED when you were in the attic, placing and organising the big pile you had

He hugged you and flopped onto the bed

Telling you that he'll look after you and you can tell him what's wrong, stress naps are always welcomed with him

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Didn't expect to find such a huge pile of new stuff in his room

He saw mug holders and mits

Horn warmers

And his favourite- a shawl with tassels, he immediately wrapped it around him and refused to take it off

He's going to wear this everywhere no matter his outfit

"Barbatos can be strict but I'll wear this no matter what, if I even see a spec of dirty on it I'll make sure to get it cleaned with delicate care."

But then it hit him, you become more active with your hobby when you become anxious

He immediately got to you, asking you if you're okay

He's ready to charge your whole class schedule if he has to

Barbatos:

You crocheted desserts and he never felt so much warmth and love in his heart

Almost collapsed from sweetness when he found a knitted pair of gloves in the big pile of your creation's

Appreciates the gifts alot

"these are marvelous, I look forward to see what else you make."

Brings you calming teas as a thank you, understanding your anxiety must be high

Offers a shoulder to cry on and happy to take time out of his schedule to listen to your worries

He asks you to teach him so he can make things like you

He wants to repay you for all the things you've given him

Solomon:

Has a whole room dedicated to everything you've ever made and given him

Whenever he has guests he likes to take them to check out your creations

"Come and admire my collection, My apprentice made these, aren't they neat?"

The potion sacks you've made are extremely useful

Aswell as the coldrain mat

Can sense your anxious energy in the newest creation's and gets concerned

He'll invite you over to talk about what's wrong

Let's you to take your time incase you're comfortable to talk

Simeon:

His favourite amongst the massive pile was a cute crotchet octopus

It was nicely stuffed and felt so nice to rest his head on

Others that peaked his fancy were the long wrist warmers you made, the way you made it made it look like lace

Aswell as a shawl and the very well made bag to store his books in

"You're so thoughtful, I'll treasure them all."

But he noticed just how worked up you've been and knew your anxious habits

Sat you down for tea to ask what how you're feeling and if could help

Also offers to be a guardian angel and make sure you don't get so anxious

If he can he'll wear an entire outfit made out of your knitting

Luke:

Is in awe how much you gave him

Almost died with Happiest when you knitted him a new hat

The crotchet wings you made just made him bounce with joy

He loves everything!!!

"I'm going to wear everything you've made and carry the little crochet puppy with me everywhere! I promise I'll take good care of him!"

Though will always check in on you

Once he's learned you do it more or only when you're really anxious he'll want to do everything he can to help

Has looked up guides on how to help people with their anxiety and panic attacks

He's going to be your guardian angel!

[1kook]

commercial break ; TWO

a netflix & chill drabble this takes place concurrently with the first part  !

summary; Even after all these years, all these doubts, and all this solitude that was really no one’s fault but his own, he still finds himself hoping that maybe you’ll be the one. warnings; vague smut descriptions but ntm miscellaneous; loneliness ;// but it gets better ! word count; 1k

notes; an anon asked what kook’s perspective was during the first episode of the series so here you go!! lmk what u think <3

He misplaced his contacts that morning and he doesn’t find them until he’s halfway through the recipe, right after he’s blindly eyeballed the measuring cup. The water to pasta ratio is all wrong and his sweater makes his skin feel itchy. He wants to rip it off and leave it somewhere on the couch, but he reminds himself he doesn’t know you yet, doesn’t know your stance on tattoos, so he resigns himself to the stuffy fabric for the night.

Namjoon had said you were cool.

Cool, he thinks, idly staring at the wine cabinet. What did cool people drink? He doesn’t know, he was never that. He tries to think back to all the cool people he’s known, but when he thinks too hard it only brings him back to those high school parties. The ones he never attended, just heard about the Monday after. Would you like wine or beer? Maybe beer. He almost goes for it, before reminding himself it doesn’t really go with the fancy pasta he spent the last two hours making. Jeez, his incompetence was showing.

Could you tell? Would you walk in and know right away how much of an embarrassing effort Jungkook put into this night? Namjoon said the cloud of loneliness that followed him was palpable in the air, foggy even, which is why he’d been nice enough to set him up with someone else for the first time in months.

He felt absolutely awful. Granted it’s been a while since he’d last gone on a date, even longer since the last time it wasn’t explicitly coordinated over that dumb Tinder app Taehyung had introduced him to. He’s kicking his ass right now for even offering up his place like this, but he comforts himself with the fact that hey, at least I won’t have to Uber home sad and alone again.

The water boils fairly quickly, the action bringing with it a sudden realization.

What if you don’t like him? What if he’s too quiet again, or too stoic? His last flings have all said the same thing— said Jungkook was too calm for them, that they wanted someone wild—so he’s starting to believe it’s true. it’s hard to grow away from that shell he’s spent so many years in, that carefully molded image he slipped into without ever realizing.

He just wants someone to hold him close and tell him they like him for him—for all the things he is and isn’t—not for his body or his looks or the money that’s started flowing in. Was that too much to ask?

The doorbell rings just as he’s plating the pasta, sending a fright up his spine that nearly has him dropping the sauce pan. He rushes over embarrassingly fast and flings it open.

Even after all these years, all these doubts, and all this solitude that was really no one’s fault but his own, he still finds himself hoping that maybe you’ll be the one.

—

You’re so soft and so pretty. Your laughter fills the entire room and slips around his heart, squeezes through the cracks until he’s gasping for air. You're sneaky and sly, nudge his foot beneath the table when he talks about his job, like you’re actually interested in him and want to know more. He’s too shy to brag, but there’s a warmth in his chest from the way you don’t push him to speak, but leave just enough space for him to add anything in.

Still, Jungkook’s terribly afraid of you. He’s afraid of that glint in your eyes, the one that tells him he’d never impress a girl like you in a thousand years— so why were you laughing at his jokes, complimenting his food? Part of him wants to prove you wrong, wants to keep you here beside him, but he acknowledges it’s a bit of a stretch for someone like him.

You melt into his cushions, and then into his arms. Cold fingers trail up his skin, marvel over the ink he had been so worried about before. You tell him they’re cool, the coolest things in the world, and his heart flips over three times in his chest.

You pick one of his favorite movies to watch after dinner, looking at him with those sneaky eyes when he sits on the couch. He doesn’t understand at first, but suddenly your hands are everywhere and your voice is crooning by his ear. You fit perfectly on his lap, fingers carding through his hair.

You’re so soft and so pretty, he thinks for the nth time that night, hands holding onto your hips and your skin. You make the cutest little sounds and look at him like he was made just for you. Maybe he is, because he’s never felt this strongly before, never felt the air leave his lungs so quickly before. You say his name and he swallows it right up, kisses down your jaw and neck, the floral scent of your perfume drowning his senses.

“I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he groans, mind stuck on those precious sounds that slip from your swollen lips, the lewd slap of his hips against yours. He knows it’s that weirdly possessive streak in him, the one that never manifested during high school, rearing its ugly head now of all times in front of the beautiful girl beneath him.

But you like it, he realizes. You like the way he pushes you around and makes you his, how he swallows you up and refuses to release. Your breaths grow airy and high, fingers reaching for any part of him available. Until you’re falling, falling straight into his arms where Jungkook is more than happy to catch you. He holds you like you’re a present, a quivering gift that drips around his aching member until he’s stumbling along with you.

—

The next morning you’re even sweeter, eating his favorite avocado breakfast at his side. He can tell it’s not your favorite taste in the world, yet you laugh when he blushes, corner him against the countertop to kiss it off his lips. You’re so warm and so soft, there’s an ache in his heart. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else, not now or not ever. He’s quickly learning that to be in your arms is to be loved and in love and Jungkook has never felt better.

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[dadsbongos]

I see you are seeking Shinsou asks :3

Can I get some angst with fluff at the end? Like really hurt me... but then kiss my boo boo after kinda shit.

😗😗😗

sorry if the angst is lackluster :( i just got very into the idea of shinso hating a todo girl

Request for: Hitoshi Shinso Warnings: mentions of child abuse(?) it’s endeavor being awful but it isn’t vivid physical abuse, female pronouns are used ~~~

Shoto sighed quietly, peeking over the heads he could at the gala, “I thought Midoriya would be here.”

“It’s family strictly, Sho, Deku wouldn’t be allowed in,” (Y/n) murmured, swirling her beverage - nonalcoholic on strict order - of the night within her flute, “He’s not All Might’s son.”

“Nephew then.”

“No, Sho,” (Y/n) sighed, shaking her head, staring down at her drink glumly, “It’s so boring since Fuyumi and Nat stopped coming.”

“And Touya- “

“How’s the hero course going?” she interrupted, still not looking up from her glass, “Dad talks about you and those two boys a lot. A lot, a lot.”

Enji never spoke of anything else, especially when his daughter - his weak daughter in the general education department of U.A - was listening.

“It’s fine,” the heterochromatic boy shrugged, “What about general studies? Any hard projects coming up?”

“Nothing like having to go out with proheroes and stop a mega-villain, no,” (Y/n) swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I am tutoring a few kids though. Nothing major, but my teacher said I was doing a good job.”

“Sounds fun,” Shoto awkwardly bit.

It was bad enough you didn’t know how to talk to your twin sister let alone when you two had none of the same interests.

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Sticking by me…” she gestured vaguely around the room, to all the heroes, to all the fancy tables, “During these parties. You don’t have to, and now that you actually know some of these people you have even less reason to.”

To be honest, he’d never thought of leaving (y/n) at their father’s parties. It simply never occurred to him to leave her standing at one of the walls by herself.

“Sure.”

Silence festered between the twins once again, neither part particularly sure of how to carry a dead conversation.

The doors opened, oddly quiet - as if the person behind them was intentionally trying to be silent. In walked class 1-A’s teacher, famous for nothing and even more infamous for hating the spotlight, which included the number one hero’s lavish ‘gatherings’.

Behind him was a boy with heavy eye bags and wild hair, recognizable as the one who almost took out Midoriya, Izuku, from the sports festival.

“He’s trying to get into the hero course,” Shoto nudged his sister, “You two share a class, correct?”

“Yeah, Shinso. He’s…” she pursed her lips, “okay.”

“Okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just a little standoffish,” (y/n) continued, refraining from adding on ‘kinda like you’, “Can’t really get to know him.”

Hitoshi caught eyes with his classmate, brows furrowing at her presence. As if he didn’t know who her father was.

But he did.

And to be quite frank, that was the entire problem.

His fists clenched, eyes narrowing, disdain thrumming through his veins. 

Hitoshi hated her, he was sure of it. He hated her power. Her wealth. Her Quirk. Her family. Her name.

She had everything at her fingertips and used none of it.

“He’s staring at you.”

“He does that a lot.”

“Want me to make him stop?”

“Fight your teacher’s son? Yeah, smart.”

“I never said I’d fight him,” Shoto shook his head, frowning at his sister.

“Shinso’s someone who makes it hard to not fight him.”

“Unlucky.”

“Yeah.”

Another beat of silence rang between the siblings, both willing themselves to ignore the heated glare beating off of Hitoshi at (y/n).

“I- “ Shoto paused, hesitance burning at his tongue, “I have something to discuss with Aizawa.”

Nodding slightly, (y/n) watched as her brother left for his teacher. Her eyes drifted once Shoto was no longer in sight, flitting to the large man of the hour. Her father.

Enji had a thing for bragging. It was why he was a hero. It was why he bought a large house. It was why he threw large parties. It was why he had a powerful son. It was what he wished for his youngest daughter. He must’ve known, somehow, that (y/n) didn’t have a plan for high school let alone the rest of her life.

It must be why he taunts her with Shoto’s accomplishments. With Shoto’s greatness.

“Your father’s the number one hero and you’re in the general studies class,” a new presence sidled up to (y/n). Hitoshi gently pressed the back of his head to the wall, “Is that not embarrassing?”

“I just like general studies more than I’d like the hero course,” (y/n) muttered, taking a sip of her drink, “I don’t want to be a hero.”

“It’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?” he hissed, shaking his head, “You have your father’s power, a great Quirk, money - and you just get to decide whether you want to be a hero or not.”

“Everyone does, Shinso. You’re leaving the class, you chose to be a hero. It’s not that deep.”

It was.

“I didn’t get to choose my class. I have to work my ass off just for a chance to be where I want, you got put in there,” Hitoshi grit his teeth.

“Well I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault,” (y/n) huffed, “You’re the one picking a fight, I’m just trying to suffer through a party.”

“Suffer, this party is literally being thrown by the number one hero - your dad - who’s incredibly rich- “

“You don’t know anything about my dad,” (y/n) snapped, turning her head to finally look Hitoshi in the eyes, “You don’t know me. You don’t know my brother. You don’t know my dad. I’m not looking to spill my guts but hey, maybe shut the fuck up before you assume someone’s childhood is peachy because their dad’s rich.”

Hitoshi shook his head, “Just saying. You’re the daughter of Endeavor and willingly put yourself in a bullshit class.”

“Fuck off.”

“Gladly.”

~~

It wasn’t two days later when Shinso, Hitoshi, said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “That shit I said at the party. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, why?” (Y/n) quirked a brow, “You seemed pretty confident then.”

Denki hissed through his teeth, “Yeah… Endeavor’s an ass. Apparently, he was like… uber harsh during training with Todoroki. I didn’t get the whole story but turns out he’s got major anger issues. I wouldn’t be surprised if he… you know. Was abusive. It’s awful, I wish I was closer with Todoroki so I could talk to him about it. He looks like he needs some support. I hope his sister’s okay too. Couldn’t have been easy in that house, ya know?”

“Just thought it over,” Hitoshi shrugged, hands jammed in his uniform pants’ pockets, “Was pretty dickish of me to say.”

“Yeah,” (Y/n) nodded before releasing a heavy sigh, “Well, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Enji glared down at the young girl, “The general studies course? You think you’ll accomplish anything there? Look at your brother, Shoto!” he twisted a hand in her hair, forcefully turning her head to look at her twin, “He’ll be a better hero than you could ever be, don’t you have aspirations? Don’t you want to do something good?”

She’d heard worse anyway.

Hitoshi bit his lip nervously, looking at his shoes before tossing his pride to the side, “Want to meet up sometime? For studying. This exam’s gonna kick my ass and you have high marks.”

“Sure,” (Y/n) smiled slightly, she knows she should’ve held the grudge longer - but it was hard to hold something against Hitoshi when he never knew her, “There’s a cafe nearby, I can show you the way?”

“That sounds good.”

“Good.”

“Sorry, again.”

“Seriously, Shinso,” (Y/n) shook her head, “You’re fine.”

Hitoshi hesitantly nodded, giving the girl a soft smile in return, “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Whipped For You ~ MYG [TW] [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 2.3K

↬↬↬Genre: Angst with a little fluffy proud yoongi

↬↬↬Pairing: Min yoongi x reader

↬↬↬A/N: I hope this is alright for you love, I tried to keep the mentions of drug use and such to a minimum because I didn’t want it to be triggering for anybody.

↬↬↬WARNINGS: This fic contains the mentions of use of drugs, someone addicted to drugs and/or alcohol if you’re not comfortable with that please do not read the following piece of work.

As you stared down at the small portions of food that you and Yoongi were being served all that was on your mind was one thing, 

"I'm glad we made plans with the boys or I will be wasting away later." You whispered to your boyfriend as the waiter placed a glass of wine down in front of you, you thanked him and Yoongi smirked at you. He knew that this wasn't your idea of a fun night and yet he insisted you go along to it since it was in celebration of your latest promotion at work. Yoongi wanted to see who you worked with and show that he was proud of how far you had come in life, 

"Y/n! Have you told Yoongi where your office is yet?" It was your CEO that questioned you, this whole evening had been his idea since the start and you nervously shook your head while sipping on the white wine you'd been given,

"Not yet." You whispered. You hadn't told Yoongi much about the promotion since it had only happened yesterday morning and the details were still getting lost in your head.

"Ah! She has this wonderful view of Seoul right from her office. It's on the top floor, she's playing for the big dogs now." You looked down at your hands out of nerve you always hated when people gushed about you in a good way- in a bad way too, it always made you feel uneasy and on edge about everything.

"You'll have to take him up there one day, the view is to die for." Yoongi smiled at him and placed his hand on top of yours under the table he'd known you since you were kids and knew that you would get nervous about this kind of thing. He'd known you almost all of your life and he knew how to read you like a book and what the telltale signs of you getting anxious were.

"Go to the bathroom and cool off," He kissed your shoulder and without another word, you excused yourself from the table and headed in the direction of the posh bathrooms. The restaurant you were sitting in was one of the biggest ones in Seoul, Yoongi had only ever been here twice and it was with Bang PD and the boys to celebrate something, it was way too fancy for him and you. 

"You must be proud Yoongi, Y/n made her way up from being a basic receptionist to being one of the top-performing managers and now she's a CEO." Yoongi was more proud than he could ever express in front of anyone at work, they all knew the new you and not the you that you used to be. 

"She deserves it, she's a hard worker." He said to your boss who then began bosting about how hard a worker you were and how thankful he was to have you on his team. He began giving Yoongi stories he hadn't heard from you before and it only made his smile grow bigger. 

"What did I miss?" You questioned as you and Yoongi stepped into the elevator of the restaurant, his arm was linked with yours as the doors shut. 

"Your boss was just telling me how you slept your way to the top," Yoongi teased and you faked a gasp, 

"He promised me he'd keep it a secret, guess I'll have to tell his husband," Yoongi smirked kissing the top of your head as you joked along with him. He'd never fully expressed to you how proud he was of how far you'd come but he was. He thought about it all of the time, everything you went through in life and yet nothing held you back. You took it like water off a duck's back, as if it made you what you were, 'character development you called it now. 

"You alright?" You asked as you reached the ground floor, Yoongi had been staring at the door while thinking about all of the things you'd been through in your life, he rubbed your lower back and nodded.

"Thinking about life, our past and our future. The usual." You smiled at him softly and pulled him in the direction of the car, he was the driver since you'd had a drink that night. 

"Can you think and drive, I'm starving and we promised the boys take out at the dorms tonight." You reminded him, once you were inside of the car you took off the heels that felt like they were murdering your feet and then looked in the backseat. Your usual black vans were waiting on the seat along with some shorts and a baggy t-shirt you could slip into once Yoongi hit the motorway and you could change without being noticed.

"Why didn't you tell me about the view?" You looked at Yoongi from your side of the car and shrugged your shoulders, 

"It's me Yoongi, I don't brag about that kind of thing." He chuckled softly, he liked that you didn't brag about the things you had in your life. 

"You're acting weird tonight, what's up?" You questioned as you climbed into the back of his car to get changed, he focused on driving so he wouldn't kill either of you but he gripped onto the wheel. 

"Just thinking how far you've come, all you did to get away from that life-"

"Yoongi..." You whispered, you knew how much he hated the life you used to lead but it was in the past now. 

"No, I'm saying it's a good thing. You did so well to get out of it and you're still doing well now." You smiled at him as you climbed back to the front seat, he took your hand in his and held it over the gear stick so he could keep hold of you while he drove.

The meal at the dorms had been great, you were so stuffed you'd fallen asleep on the sofa with your head resting on Yoongi's lap. He was running his fingers up and down your arms while staring down at you. The others could tell by the look on his face he was proud of you and so were they, they knew a little about your past but they were still proud of you. 

"You look happy Hyung," Jungkook mentioned as he came back into the living room to look at you asleep with Yoongi, 

"I am, I'm happy for her...She went through so much trouble and it paid off." Yoongi knew you didn't mind the boys knowing your story since they already knew little bits. They had to know little details, the first time you came to Seoul you were in hiding and Yoongi took you in without hesitation because that's what best friends do. 

"She's so strong, to go and do what she did alone," Jimin whispered everyone looked over at Jimin waiting for answers. Jimin was the second one to know all of the stories, you'd told him one night when you got scared and Yoongi wasn't home to comfort you. You'd heard a huge crash in the dorms and ran straight to Jimin for help since he was the only one home at the time, and you couldn't hide it from him. 

"What happened...What did she do alone?"More curious than ever Jungkook wanted to know the full story,

"She didn't have it easy growing up..." Yoongi started as he stared down at you. 

You worked five jobs to support yourself, you'd worked five jobs since the moment you turned 16. You wanted to save up enough and get away from your family, the drugged obsessed family that used you for money or drugs runs because you looked like the innocent one. 

"One more run Y/n, one more run and we'll never ask you again." You brother stuttered as he stared down at you, you looked at him and shook your head. He was a mess, covered in bruises, cuts and needle marks from whatever new drug he was addicted to that week. You'd just turned 21 that week and no one had bothered to remember, no one except Min Yoongi who was in Seoul living his best life which is what you were trying to do. Trying to get out of the bad part of Daegu trying to make a good life for yourself instead of this one. You glanced over at the floorboard in your bedroom, you had enough money for the ticket to 2-hour journey to Seoul and you had enough evidence to get your family convicted on everything they'd been doing and growing over the years. 

"I'll do it," You told him trying not to seem overly enthusiastic about it since you didn't want to come across as suspicious. You'd always expressed your disgust for what they did as a family as far as you were concerned they weren't your family and hadn't been for a long time. Just drugged up people trying to get their latest fix, doing whatever they could to get it and not caring about anyone else in their way.

The sirens outside of your window sounded as though they were going to break the glass, you hadn’t expected it to be so loud, it was piercing your ear drums as you stared at the flashing lights as they came closer to your home - if you could even call it that. It wasn’t a home, it was a drug farm. Drugs stashed around every part of the house including the basement where they grew their own marijuana and sold it for profit making the whole entire house stink at one time.

"What the fuck?!" Your brother screamed from the living room his yell made you flinch, just the thought of him being mad put you on edge but you had to be calm about all of this, while they panicked racing around to hid everything in the house you calmly grabbed your getaway bag that was stashed by the door of your bedroom and the money which was stashed in a floorboard leaving through your bedroom window so you wouldn’t be seen by your family. A huge riot van was parked on the street and you looked around at the police for the regular one you'd been going to with all the evidence and information you had on your family. He was waiting for you near his car with a bag of his own, you’d come to an agreement with everything, if you gave him all the things he needed he would help you escape.

"That everything?" You nodded at his question and dropped the bag down in the car not wanting to look inside it any longer than you had been, inside was everything he would need to convict your entire family on drug charges. Pictures of them growing and using class A drugs, selling them, recordings of them asking you to go on drug runs and then to top it all off,

"The drugs are in my room, bottom floorboard to the left." You mumbled to him, the drug run your brother had planned to send you on that night had fallen through so the drugs were easily accessible to the police and he handed you a fake passport with a fake name on it.

"You use this only till you get to Seoul, do I make myself clear?" He handed you the passport along with some money, your brother screamed as he was dragged into the back of a van and you hide your face not wanting him to know it was you that had done this. 

"You did a good thing, get out of here." You walked around the back of your house and headed towards Daegu station with your head down, clutching your passport which was your ticket to freedom.

Yoongi held your arms as you stared down at the flames, he didn't question anything when you turned up and told him you had to burn the clothes you were wearing, the fake passport you had and the bag of items he didn't want to know what was. 

"I'm out. I'm out of that life, they're gone." You mumbled to him as he held you tighter, whatever was in the back made the flames bigger so he pulled you back. You were standing in the back garden of their dorms destroying every part of your life that was infested with your family. 

"What happened?" He whispered looking at you, he could tell already that you seemed better. The last time he'd seen you were right before he moved to Seoul, he knew about your family and he knew you were the exception to the drug-fueled family. 

"I snitched, so I need a place to hide...I'll find a hotel or something, I just needed to see you Yoongi." He turned you to face him and ran he hand over your cheek, 

"If you think I'm going to let you waste time in some dingy hotel you have another thing coming. No, you'll stay with me. I'll keep you safe and protected."

He had, he'd kept you protected even throughout your families trial where you were forced to take the stand and answer questions for a jury, he ran his hand over your cheek and you mumbled rolling over and opening your eyes to see all of the boys staring at you. 

"What happened? What did I miss?" You sat up and they all started laughing as you stared at Yoongi for answers, 

"You just missed Yoongi being totally whipped for you." Jungkook told you as he got up from the floor and went to his room, 

"What?" You asked with a nervous laugh, 

"Nothing, he's being an idiot. Let's get home, I'm tired." You nodded in agreement and got up from the sofa, saying a quick goodbye to the boys before heading out to the car with Yoongi.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @lynnthevirgo​ @fan-ati--c​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @taestannie​

[lovelyirony]

fic title: I’m falling and the sun is blinding me to your faults

i wanted to do an au of this one, so presenting: tony and rhodey, but make it villainous. i think it’d be fun! 

James Rhodes is two things, first and foremost being that he is a businessman. 

People call him a villain. He doesn’t really think he’s that villainous. 

After all, he only took over New York. He left all the other states alone, so that has to mean something. He was gracious! 

He also wouldn’t consider himself a villain because everyone who works under him gets health insurance. They don’t complain that much, although he’s gotten some about the quality of the buffet on Fridays. 

Catering companies. Hit-or-miss, you know? 

There have been a couple of companies who try to stop him. Rivals that hate that his products are better and employees are happier, for one. Those are easy to dismiss. 

SHIELD is one company who tries, and fails. Repeatedly. It would be embarrassing, but Rhodes has respect for Agents Romanov and Hill, who have been the closest to breaking into his personal office. 

- 

The player that isn’t registering on the field is Tony Stark. Perhaps because he isn’t so much of a player on the field as an existing person who just happens to be on a field. Or a building. However you would like to imagine it. 

In other universes, he walks like he owns the world because he could buy up everything and still have money left over to get ice cream at the end of the day. 

In this universe, his father kicked him out of his house for various things, the most prominent being that Tony is rather partial to kissing guys and ladies, and that just simply won’t do. 

(Tony also stole enough money out of his bank account to buy a house and also start his own business without his knowledge, but in the grand scheme of things, that’s just a small drop in the ocean.) 

Tony made his own tech start-up business. He’s invented a few new things that hit the market discreetly, and he’s building up more and more clientele. He’s about to open another shop, and in all honesty he’s not worried about getting noticed. 

This is until Rhodes comes across an employee bragging about a new repair guy who makes computers run twice as fast, charges less than most repair shops, and looks mighty fine in a tank top.

The last reason is reason enough to visit. 

But also, to see who’s been fixing up Rhodes tech and can make it faster. He doesn’t know why he wouldn’t have just applied for a job. 

Tony is not expecting Rhodes to enter into his building. He has people who are walk-ins, but usually you would expect a villain to make an appointment. Or not, they are villains. 

“I heard that you’ve been improving my phones,” James says. He leans into Tony’s space. He smells quite nice, has a well-tailored suit, and Tony is trying very hard not to find him attractive. That’s not the sort of thing you could be focusing on. 

“You gonna sue me or something?” 

“No, I want to hire you.” 

Tony blinks. 

“Oh. No thank you.” 

Rhodes pulls back. 

“Why ‘no’?” 

“I like my shop just fine. And you have things well-handled.” 

“Could I consult you?” 

“You can’t afford me.” 

Rhodes grins. 

“Are you sure about that?” 

“Of course I am. Can I get anything for you today, or did you just want to beg me to come work for you?” 

“Most people would never be this bold.” 

"What would they be? Terrified in your presence?” 

“More or less, yes. It’s what I prefer.” 

"I don’t cater to people’s preferences, it’s a character flaw and strength,” Tony quips. 

Rhodes smiles. 

It’s terrifyingly beautiful, really. Tony is at a loss for words. 

“I think I’m liking you, Stark.” 

“Tony. You don’t call me Stark. I don’t do the last name dynamic.” 

“Sweetheart, then. Not your last name.” 

“Pet names, seriously?” 

“Oh you got it, honey.” 

“Then go on, platypus,” Tony throws back. 

“Platypus? Really?” 

"Pet names are on the menu, honey bunch. Just try me.” 

Rhodes smiles, turning to exit. 

“I’ll be in touch, darling.” 

Tony leans against his desk, legs shaking underneath. 

There are two problems that he’s not sure how to solve. Here they are: 

1.) Rhodes now has Tony on his radar, which is probably bad because Tony will absolutely be used for world domination or whatever. 

2.) Tony doesn’t really mind as long as he gets to see Rhodes because goddamn. That man could get so many things, and he probably has. And Tony wouldn’t mind being one of those things if he played his cards right. 

But for now, Tony just wants to fix computers and maybe just buy a new brand of tea, but he’s honestly not sure. 

- 

Rhodes makes an appointment to meet. 

Of Fucking Course. 

Tony is not impressed, and is also not impressed that he comes in with a very expensive custom-made designer suit, whereas Tony is not sure the last time his pair of jeans got washed, and an old t-shirt that’s advertising an ice cream shop that is closed now. 

“You love to make an entrance all the time?” Tony asks. “What can I legally do for you?” 

“You’re assuming I’m making you do illegal things, babe?” 

“Yes, Rhodey.” 

“It’s Rhodes.” 

“Hm, maybe. But not to me. Rhodey. I wanna ruin your business impression.” 

Pepper snorts besides Rhodes, who is suitably impressed that Tony doesn’t give one flying fuck about the fact that he could destroy him at any point. 

“I’m ordering that on your next business card deal.” 

“I’ll fire you.” 

“You can’t find someone as competent as me, don’t even joke.” 

“I came here for an opportunity for you. You’ve managed to get some people’s computers to speed up so much. And I want you to do it with all of my employee’s computers.” 

“What, you couldn’t reverse-engineer it? See what I did for yourself?” 

Rhodey grins. 

“I never question a handsome man’s work, darling.” 

Tony turns red. 

“You’re really bad with professionalism, honeysop.” 

“What the hell is that?” 

“What, never heard about romance in the fifteenth century? Boring.” 

“Will you do the job or not?” 

“What are the terms, the conditions, and how much are you paying?” 

Pepper steps forward, a sizable stack of paperwork in her hands. 

The work would pay off the building. It would pay off his mortgage on his house. Hell, it would help a lot. He’d have extra to mess around and maybe go on a vacation. 

The downside is that he’s helping a villain get faster speed and better battery life with laptops. This could also mean he’d die, but honestly he was kind of expecting an early death. 

Rhodey assures him that he won’t die. 

“If anyone touches you, then they feel my wrath,” he says. His teeth glint underneath the lights. “And honey, no one ever likes feeling that.” 

“What, it isn’t all feather-light tickles?” 

“Touches a bit more than that.” 

There’s an unspoken story there. Rhodey’s grin goes from tight and eyes empty to refocusing on Tony and turning soft, genuine. 

“We can discuss the official plans over dinner.” 

“Dinner won’t work for me, I got plans tonight.” 

“A hot date?” 

"A special movie screening,” Tony says. “Can’t miss it. Maybe next time, or the next three times.” 

Rhodey smiles. 

“Maybe sometime.” 

“Maybe.” 

- 

Holy fuck.

Rhodes International has a local coffee shop on the lobby. A barista is a cheerful girl who has neon yellow hair greets him and asks if he wants a complimentary drink. 

“You...know who I am?” 

“Not in the slightest!” she says cheerily. “I have a memory thing where I remember everyone I ever meet and who I don’t meet. What kind of coffee guy are you?” 

“Um...you guys have mint syrup?” 

“Yup!” 

“Then I guess a peppermint latte?” 

“Coming right up!” 

So here is this girl humming what sounds suspiciously like the Winnie the Pooh song as she makes a drink, and that drink is amazing. 

Also, people are wearing, it seems, whatever outfit they want. There are some people talking, and two look to be dressed in professional business clothing, but the third guy they’re talking to is wearing ripped jeans and a tank top has the phrase of “I’m Just Existing on a Manifestation of Reality” emblazoned. 

It’s odd. 

“So glad you could make it, Tones,” Rhodey says. 

“Tones?” 

“What, too much?” 

“Tones sounds like you know me.” 

“And I don’t?” 

“What’s my favorite jam?” 

“Why jam?” 

“If you know someone well, you know their favorite type of jam.” 

“Orange marmalade?” 

“What the fuck do I look like, Paddington?” 

“You’re right, Paddington’s not near as sexy.” 

“This counts as harassment, right? This counts as harassment.” 

“Don’t have him sue us already, he’ll win,” Pepper says, breezing to their sides. God, she’s gorgeous. Casually dressed in a pencil skirt and a blouse and acting like she doesn’t look like a goddess. Must be exhausting. “Tony, great to have you. Let me show you who you’re working with.” 

He has his own fancy office, a team that knows what they’re doing, and catered lunch. 

Catered lunch. It’s not even a Friday. 

“Friday’s are questionable,” Rhodey says. “Weird selection.” 

“You don’t wanna know,” says Intern Joe. 

That’s literally on his ID card. 

- 

Tony starts work. It’s not bad, not at all. He works in the mornings on the weekends and Mondays as well as Thursdays, and then sometimes does work from his own office. 

Rhodey is...nice. 

This is a bit unsettling, because Rhodey literally just threatened the president over an environmental bill not being accepted and currently all employees are only slightly scared. 

“This is just like three months ago,” says Janice The Badass. (Also on her ID card.) “Don’t worry, the government can’t do anything. They rely on us too heavily.” 

“For what?” 

“For safety.” 

“Not asking.” 

“Good, I’m not going to answer.” 

“Okay?” 

- 

It’s also weird that Rhodey checks in on him. He brings him coffee how he likes it, and he makes him sit down and try new foods with him. 

He’s not bad at conversational topics either. Tony’s used to talking, and he’s used to bad-talking on dates. This doesn’t come close. 

No, they talk about the differences of Star Trek and how much Tony hates specific brands of pens, and how Rhodey is a disaster when it comes to coordination of ties. 

“I don’t like ties,” he scowls. 

“Then why wear one?” 

“Pepper says they look nice.” 

“Why do you need to look nice?” 

“Most things are all about presentation.” 

“Ah, need to be taken seriously.” 

“Only at times when I’m facing government officials or weird corporate bosses.” 

“Aren’t you a corporate boss?” 

“I’m a corporate boss who is also an enemy of fellow corporate bosses. Weird thing.” 

“That’s...intriguing.” 

“How so?” 

“Well, how does that work?” Tony asks, popping a couple blueberries into his mouth. “How are you both the same and an enemy?” 

“Watch and learn, sugar. Watch and learn.” 

Tony is allowed on the next business meeting. Which, coincidentally, his old Uncle Obadiah is part of. 

This leads to rather undesired complications. 

-

“You’re working for a supervillain?” Obie practically yells. 

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Tony says. “I just work with computers.” 

“Besides if he wanted to work for a real supervillain, wouldn’t he be working for you?” Rhodey asks. 

He’s sitting in one of those rolling-chairs, and despite that, he made it his throne. He’s relaxed in it, perfectly at peace with the situation. All eyes are on him. 

“I’m not the one that the government is after.” 

“And yet I’m the one who’s successfully paid taxes. Where have yours gone, hm? Strip club in Vegas? Weapon sales in Afghanistan?” 

Obie freezes. 

Tony knows that when you freeze, it is your worst tell. 

“Does dad know?” 

This time, Rhodey turns towards him. He’s surprised. 

“We’ll discuss that later. But does Howard know, Obadiah?” 

“Howard is none of your concern.” 

“Oh my god, he is,” Rhodey says grinning. “You haven’t told him about your little back-door escapades. I wonder what would happen if I told him.” 

“You don’t want me as an enemy,” Obadiah says, shaking. He looks at Tony. “And you, boy, you just earned yourself a death sentence.” 

“Funny, Howard said the same thing when he kicked me out of the house,” Tony says as he’s checking his nails. Rhodey thinks he is in love. 

“Go ahead and try to get me as an enemy, see how well it works for you,” Rhodey says, pearly whites on display. “I took over the entire state of New York, leaving everyone in power allied with me. Plus, Tony hasn’t pushed his legacy from what I’ve seen, but what would happen if I just...let him talk? At the next press conference, perhaps.” 

Tony grins, and it’s dangerous. 

“Yeah Obie, what if I talked? I’m sure Howard’s disastrous attempt at fatherhood would be a real uptick in stock points.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Just watch. Just fucking watch,” Tony says. “I still know how to smile for the press, and I still remember all of my lessons for how to make sure anything is believable.” 

He shakes. 

Rhodey gets security. 

Tony visibly relaxes as Stane is led out of the building, and Rhodey smiles over at him. 

“What?” 

“You wanna grab dinner with me?” 

“Like as a casual dinner, or a date-dinner?” 

“How about both?” 

“Thank god, I can’t remember where my nice shoes are.” 

- 

Tony supposes it is odd to be out to dinner with one of the most-feared men in all of New York. 

But it was hard to fear him when he was currently trying to lick ice cream off the tip of his nose with no such luck. 

Or when Rhodey kisses him senseless on his doorstep and makes fun of the little gnome that he’s put outside, and Tony giggles and watches him leave in his fancy car, still leaning on his door. 

Oh, he’s got it bad. 

But he doesn’t mind. 

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

Blimey - JJ Maybank x reader

a\n: i was feeling kinda un-inspired from writing requests so i wrote whatever came to mind and i’m actually happy with the result. @mclementine6​ said JJ so there ya go. 

trigger warning: underage drinking, cussing a little bit

plot: JJ is in love with the daugher of the owner of the hotel he works at.

word count: 2613

JJ Maybank was every girl's dream. He was the blond surfer with the blue eyes, amazing body and this reckless charm to him. He was a bad boy that you can bring home. The problem was, he has one girl in mind, and she was, somehow, the only one who was able to resist his smile. Well, her and Kie.

This girl was (y\n). her father was the owner of the hotel he worked at, so he got to see her often. He has been trying for years to get her heart, and she kept turning him down.

"why isn't she into me? I mean, not to brag, but look at this" he said, motioning all over his body. He was sitting with his friends at John B's, enjoying the empty place since John's uncle was away, as usual. "maybe it's the cockiness" Kie said, and JJ scrunched his face at her, repeating the sentence in the worst female impression to ever be made. John laughed lightly, "maybe she's just not into this" he said, motioning around the dirty floor, cheap beers and empty chips bags.

"(y\n) is not like that" JJ insisted, "if she was, she wouldn't be as nice to me, but she is always greeting me, with a smile, even when she's with her stupid boyfriend" he explained. "she's just nice, especially for a Kook. Even I like her" Kie says. "did it cross you're mind she's not into you… because she's into her boyfriend?" Pope said, sipping his beer. "come on, I don't know if I would even consider that nerd a boyfriend, what is he going to do, recite the whole pie numbers until the boredom kills me?" JJ sighs, finishing his beer and grabbing a new one. "no" John B stops him, "we cannot afford the amount of Beer you consume". JJ laughs, "good point buddy" he says, "have a shift in a few hours anyway. There's a Kook ball tonight at the hotel, a charity event for-" "Ocean Friends" Kie says, "I'm so exited those rich monsters are finally helping with their money". "you're one of them" John teases, but she ignores him. "well, I should get going, I need to change for the event" she says, getting up and handing JJ the half empty beer bottle. He's exited and reaches out to grab it, but she flips the bottle and spills the beer on poor JJ's hair. "oh, oops" she says, not even attempting to sound like it was really an accident. "Kie! What was that for?" JJ says, his hair dripping beer all over the floor. "you stink, you need to shower, this is a big evening, buddy" Kie says, staring to leave. "I wasn't stinky before you-" "you were" Pope cuts him off. "yeah bro, surfing might involve getting wet, but it's not a shower" John B agrees. "you guys are-" JJ started, but gave up and made his way to the bathroom at John B's.

"oh, sweetie, you look so beautiful" (y\n)'s mom said, leaning at the door frame, admiring her daughter. "thanks" (y\n) replied, checking out the different angles in the mirror. "Shaun is gonna think the same" (y\m\n) added, walking inside her daughter's room. "Shaun dumped me" (y\n) admitted, "decided I wasn't smart enough for him". "well, that was not smart of him, love" (y\m\n) said, smiling at her pun and redoing the braid that fell down (y\n)'s back. Her daughter was not as satisfied. "too soon?" her mom asked, placing the braid and her hands on (y\n)'s shoulders. "no, no. I just… I guess I just don't care as much as I thought I would" (y\n) said, resting he right hand on her mom's left hand before turning around. "maybe you didn't love him" Mrs., (y\l\n) says, looking at her daughter's face. "maybe" (y\n) sighed and started leaving her room, still holding her mom's hand. (y\m\n) pulled on her daughter's hand, causing the teen to stand in front of her again. "maybe it's because you love someone else, let's say, a certain handsome young waiter?" her mom asks. "do you mean that Maybank kid?" (y\n) laughs, "no, hell will freeze before I'll see him in a different light. Not just metaphorically, but also, any other light that is not of the dining or ball room, because I won't see him outside of work" she's quick to deny liking the Pogue as more then a co-worker. Was he a friend to her, or was she secretly hoping for something else?

"okay" he mother said, putting her hands up to show she surrenders. "okay" (y\n) says. She gets to the stairs, her father already waiting. Her mom joins, and they all enter together, her parents holding hands and she's all alone.

"hey there, (y\n\n)" a familiar voice says, "do you want a fine, red wine or do you want me to sneak you some Coke from the back?" the blond boy winks. "hey JJ, water is just fine for now" she replies. He smelled nicer than the usual sea, sweat and cologne mix that was unique to him. "you are so boring" JJ sighs, but goes toward the bar to get her water. She looks at him as walks away. "maybe it's because you love someone else, let's say, a certain handsome young waiter?" her mother's voice whisper in her head, but she ignores it.

Sure, JJ was handsome, hardworking, caring and extremely persistence. He's been attempting to get her to go on one single date with him for almost a year, ever since he got the job at the hotel. She worked with him – it was her father's idea, that she'd work at the hotel. That way she can keep a close eye on the employees and learn work ethics and to appreciate money even though it came easily to her family.

"your water, M'lady" the blond boy smiled, handing out a glass. "well, thank you, sir Maybank" she replied with her charming smile. "so, I saw your boyfriend, but he didn't walk with you. Isn't that some weird Kook tradition, to walk in with your significant other-?" "he broke up with me" she cuts him off. "oh, why's that?" JJ asked. in his eyes (y\n) was perfect – why would a guy who can't get better and not only because there's no such thing, but because (y\n) is already out of his league- why would he break up with her?

"I'm not smart enough, apparently" she laughed, "but it's whatever, I don't care". "not smart enough? But you use all of these fancy words like… like that one time you rejected me and said that I'm a hedonist. I had to google that later" JJ said. "between the two of us JJ, I google search fancy words and use them to sound smart" she admits. "well, that is very smart of you" JJ smiled at her. "whatever" she rolled her eyes. "no, really. I think you are a smart, beautiful young lady. His loss" JJ says, taking a step closer to her. "god, JJ you are such a sycophant" she sigh. "you're doing that again!" JJ laughed. "excuse me" an older man says, "can I get a vesper Martini?". JJ nods, "sure thing. shaken, not stirred". The old man seemed confused but waited for JJ to come back with his drink. Meanwhile, he talked to (y\n), who pretended to care about his new boat and how his middle son got a house in the Bahamas. "enjoy your drink agent 007" JJ said, handing the old man his drink as promised.

The old man left, and JJ tried to revive the conversation. "so, where were you?" JJ asked. "I called you a sycophant" (y\n) replied. "right" JJ smiled. "look, JJ, you should work, and I have to talk to people" she said, and JJ had no choice but to agree. He did have to work.

"hi Kiara, Mrs. and Ms. Carrera" (y\n) smiled at her friend. "(y\n)" Kie smiled politely, hugging the other teen. "oh, you look so lovely, (y\n)" Anna said, "this dress looks great on you". "thank you, Ms. Carrera, you look absolutely ravishing yourself" (y\n) smiled. Both Kie and (y\n) are trying not to laugh at the ridiculous politeness, but the adults are in awe. The music changes, and (y\n) holds her dress up for a bow-like gesture, "Kiara, would you like to join me for a dance "oh (y\n), I would love to accompany you" Kie bows back, and the moment they are far from the Carreras, Kiara released the laugh she was holding.

"what was that, (y\n)? you sounded ridiculous. Good thing you didn't threw in a British accent" Kie said. "hey, it was hard not to do the British accent. my parents asked to be extremely nice and polite. Adults love when a 16-year-old uses fancy words" (y\n) explained. It was a very important fundraiser. Her parents were barley convinced to host it, but it was important for her and her best friend, so she worked hard to make it happen.

Kie and (y\n) were dancing, and JJ looked at them, charmed. The way (y\n) laughed as she moved right on the beat, loosening up a bit. She was usually very uptight, but every time her act slipped, he fell harder and harder. Every time she accidently cursed or was less then the perfect daughter in any way, she was something better: herself. Her fun, smart, sarcastic, self. Her happy self. He knew that dating Shaun was a reputation thing, and deep down he knew she can't choose him because of reputation. Her parents loved him, that's for sure, but will they be supportive if anything other than the weird friendly rivalry bloomed between them?

(y\n) left the dance floor to have some political interactions. She was born as a Kook and she was doing a great job acting like one with her "small person who uses big words" persona. She enjoyed it, it was like doing theatre only it was a nearly 24\7 show she couldn't really quit.

After a round of the different variations of "oh, your son's fiancé is so beautiful", "what a lovely little creature" and pretending to care about the new yacht model someone got, the music changed into a slower one. Most of the adults she had to talk to were there with a date, so she was left alone and finally, she could go look for Kie.

When she finally spotted her friend, she was on the dance floor with another friend you recognized as Pope. oh well she thought to herself, at least I get a break.

Someone tapped on her shoulder. He was holding up a black tray, with a few glasses on. "a drink, M'lady?" JJ asked, and she sighed. "yeah, sure" she said, and he handed her a tall glass filled with a pink-tinted beverage. "on the house" he smiled, and walked off. She thought he was leaving, but he returned after putting the tray down on the table near him. "look, (y\n), I know you constantly reject me, but I know you love this song and it's a shame if you won't dance to it" the blondie said. She took another sip of her drink, that was surprisingly sweet. "is that why you gave me a drink, to get me to dance with you?" she asked him. "maybe. Did it work?" JJ said, and she smiled at him. "you know what? it might have" she said. He offered her his hand, and she rested the drink on the table near her to take the offer.

They made their way to an available space on the dance floor, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. He seemed a bit confused for a second, not sure what to do with his hands, but he looked around to find his next move. "you're supposed to-" (y\n) started, but JJ cut her off with a "no, I know" and placed his hands on her waist. The space was awkward, and so she took a step closer and closed her hands behind his neck. He locked his hands behind her waist, blushing. She laughed. "you look like a tomato" she teased. He looked at her, slightly offended, "shut up, you look like a…strawberry yourself" he said, getting all defensive. She bit her lips to hold in the laugh, "really?" she asked, looking up at him. they locked eyes, and both turned even rosier. "yeah, but you're still looking absolutely ravishing" he said, adding a British accent to the last words. (y\n) laughed, "did Kie told you about that?". "oh, she did, she told me and Pope, and I texted it to John B" he said, "but I think it's cute. You're a small person using big words" he added once he noticed the slightest hurt in her eyes, and she couldn’t help but return the shy smile.

They danced, and the silence wasn't awkward at all. They couldn't take their eyes off each other's. The eye contact made both feel the butterfliers they heard about so much. "hey, JJ, can I ask you something?" she suddenly said. "sure" he said, nodding. "why do you keep chasing me even though I have turned you down so many times?" she says, her voice so quiet it's almost a whisper. "well" he answers, "there's something special about you. You're… interesting, there's more to you than what you let most people see, and every time you crack the good-girl act next to me, I'm like 'shit, I really want to know this person better', ya' know?" he said. She nods slowly. "that, and the fact you don't want me back is so hot" JJ added, ruining the moment. "you were so sweet for a second there, JJ. Almost gave up" (y\n) said, looking right in his eyes with a sweet yet somewhat devilish grin. "oh, shit" JJ laughed, "can I try to change your mind?"  he raised his eyebrow and getting a bit closer to her. "JJ, this is not the place or t-" she says, looking around. One hand left her waist and brushed her jawline, forcing her to look at him. The boy has made the decision. He leaned closer to her, and the questions filled her head. She knew she wanted to kiss him just as bad as he wanted to kiss her, but what does that mean? What happens next?

The moment they locked lips, everything disappeared, the only thought she had in her mind was him. his hands cupped her cheeks when she returned the kiss. It was short, but sweet, and full of emotions. It felt different than the way kissing Shaun made her feel. She was exited, and happy, and sad about the fact it couldn't last forever.

"wow" she let out with a light laugh when JJ pulled away. "don't you mean… I don't know, what's a fancy way to say 'wow'?" he mumbled under his breath, tempted to reconnect their lips. "blimey" he remembered a word that can fit, "don't you mean blime-" he said, her laughter cutting him off. "shut up JJ, you are ruining the moment!" she said, punching his chest lightly. "well, I do have a bachelor's degree in ruining the moment, so" he says, leaning down for another kiss, surprised when he wasn't pushed away.

"wait, does it mean you'll go on a date with me?" he says once the kiss ends for the sake of breathing. "I guess so" (y\n) smiled at him, and his smile was bigger and brighter then usual. She never noticed how his smile lights up his face, and the whole room. "cool".

tag list: @mary-grace-milne @loveylangdon​

[miss-noo-na]

Strange Love (Part 1)

Title: Strange Love

Featuring: Johnny (NCT) x Reader

Rating: Mature. Future updates to include BDSM themes

Summary: Your job is finally recognizing all the hard work you’ve been putting in, and assigns you to a special project that includes travel. The only downside is that you have to team up with your cocky co-worker. In the process you learn about his predilections and what he does to relieve stress in his downtime, and how they might come to benefit you, too. 

The copier spluttered and buzzed as it spit out page after page of the same report. Sometimes it jammed and you had to tap it just right for it to start up again, you knew it like clockwork now, not even having to shift your stance or your gaze to do it. You had made friends with the piece of equipment ages ago, this thing was older than some of the new hires in the office.

You had been there for 3 years now, but it felt much longer. You found the job out of college because of its promised upward mobility and company culture, and after a while neither one of those things mattered anymore. You had only had one partial raise and “company culture” really just meant there was cake in the break room once a month.

You didn’t know why you stayed. Actually, you did, but didn’t want to admit it to yourself. You were afraid.

You had always been timid, knowing what you wanted but too anxious to go after it. You could be stubborn and even stand up for yourself, but often you fell by the wayside, worried about making too much of a fuss. You developed a fine-tuned talent for painting on a smile, seeming agreeable, then grumbling under your breath and to your friends over drinks. You would convince yourself things would change, but they never did. 

When the copier stopped with its signature grinding halt you snapped out of your reverie, piling the papers in arm to hand them out around the office. Busy-work, per usual.

When you stepped out of the room you immediately looked across the hall to the windowed room of your manager, able to hear his muffled laughter, head tossed back as he slapped his hand on another mans back. Your eyes set into a narrow glare at the other person.

John Suh had only shown up 9 months ago and he was already 2 positions ahead of you, with his fancy degree and family connections. They liked to pretend they didn’t play favorites but it was obvious from the moment he stepped in the door that he had something the rest of you didn’t, connections and his daddy’s money.

Plus, there was just this air of overconfidence he carried that enraged you. Not only did he have an advantage, he liked to act like it was his savvy business sense and charm that got him there. 

The most annoying part of all is that no one else felt the way you did.

He was clearly attractive, the only person in the office who didn’t get shit from the boss for growing his hair out or not buttoning up his jacket. Every girl in the office from the 19 year old receptionist to the 67 year old accountant practically swooned when he talked to them. This, of course, made you look like the asshole to your colleagues. They called you distrustful and told you to be a little more open-minded, but you didn’t have patience for nepotism and unearned praise.

If you thought about it too long, the frustration built up and where did that leave you? You went about your business for the afternoon, intent on ignoring his presence like you usually did.

As you neared the manager’s door, he suddenly poked his head out and smiled at you.

“Hey there, can I grab you for a second?”

And then he disappeared inside, through the glass you could see him speak to your nemesis once more. Your stomach dropped, what could he possibly need? You set the stack down on your desk and returned to the office, clearing your throat as you entered since they were chatting and laughing like you didn’t exist.

“There you are, have a seat.” He said as he went to his desk, gesturing to the chairs in front of it. You were surprised when John took the seat next to yours, but chose to pretend he wasn’t there.

“I’ve had this project brewing for a few months now, and whilst going over potential candidates your name came up.”

Project? Your name? 

“You’ve been loyal to the company for years, your workflow looks great, and I’ve never heard a fuss out of you. You’re honestly a prime worker for this position.”

“What position would that be, sir?” You asked gently, knowing he had a habit of going on tangents if you let him. Plus, all of this was lip service you’d heard since you started. They were always quick to praise, but never do anything that actually showed that it mattered in a way that helped you. Empty compliments.

“This is our main office, and the system we have here is the best in the business, but unfortunately that’s not the case in some of our smaller offices. They’re falling behind and their technology and practices aren’t getting updated in a timely fashion. Basically, they need help, and that’s where you two come in.”

Two? You peered over at the man next to you from the corner of your eye, and quickly back again.

“I’m not sure I follow. Aren’t these offices spread out all over the country?” You asked.

“Precisely. We’ve opened up a position for trainers, someone who is free to travel and can help these places get set up. You would spend about a week or less in each place, we would make sure you have proper accommodations and a stipend, of course.”

It dawned on you what he meant and you felt a mix of emotions. It was about time someone realized your potential and the hard work you had been putting in, even if you were still confused on how your name got brought up. You didn’t have any problem traveling, there was no relationship or particular thing that kept you tied down in one spot.

“Oh, and the 30% raise.”

You perked up at that, then quickly tried to make yourself appear neutral again.

“That does sound enticing.”

“What do you say? I think you both would be great at it.”

You fully looked over now, and made brief eye contact with the man who offered you an encouraging smile.

“We would be working...together?”

“It’s a two-man, excuse me, two-person job. I can tell you now I think you would make an excellent team.”

You didn’t even know him like that, and everything you did know you weren’t particularly fond of.  You had maybe spoken a handful of words to each other, in passing.  Things like “excuse me” and “here’s that report you needed.” The idea of having to spend so much time around him didn’t sit well with you, but how could you pass up such an opportunity? it was strictly business, it’s not like you had to be best friends.

“Okay, then.” You nodded and forced an uneasy smile. 

“Fantastic! I’ll draw up the paperwork tonight and get you on your schedule within the week. In the meantime, I encourage you two to get to know each other.” 

You left the office, intent on going straight back to your desk, but your new partner stopped you.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced, I’m John, but everyone just calls me Johnny.”

He stuck his hand out and you had to fight the urge to cringe, there was no way in hell you were going to call him that.

You were cordial, shook his hand and told him your name, avoided eye contact. Being this close to him you didn’t realize until now how tall he was.

“You want to grab some lunch with me? My treat, we can hammer out some details.”

“I’m a little busy this aftern-”

“It’ll be fine, the boss insists we form a game plan and I know a spot around the corner.” He cut you off and started to walk away as if you already agreed. You wanted to fight him on it, but that wasn’t the best way to start out a brand new position. You sighed and followed.

The “spot” was basically a sports bar, that was practically dead, save for a few people at the bar watching a baseball game. You sat at a table near the back and wished you could get a beer, but you still had a whole work day ahead of you.

“So it’s like, part trainer, part teacher, part IT. Do you have any experience in IT? I actually started out in computer science before I switched to business, my dad thought it was the best for my career path. I mean, I guess he was right because here I am.”

He was….different, than you thought he would be. You only saw him in the office, turning on his charm and worming his way into things. Here, he was talkative and friendly, and it was throwing you off-guard. The casual humble-brag about his background wasn’t making him anymore likable, though. 

“No, I majored in English.”

I swear to God if he says-

“English? Aren’t you already fluent?”

You closed your eyes for a second while his stupid laugh rang in your ears.

“Anyway, I think this is going to be an awesome opportunity for us. I mean, how lucky are we to get picked for this?”

“I wouldn’t call it luck.” You grumbled before taking a drink, not really intending him to hear it.

“What’s that?”

“It’s not luck.” You said as you met his eyes fully for the first time. “Not for me. I’ve worked my ass off for this company for years, it’s only luck for people who got a head start.”

You sank your teeth into your tongue just as the words left you, and you could see the smile fade from his face. You suddenly felt flush and thought about apologizing, but he spoke up.

“Ah, so you think I had a leg up?”

“I didn’t mean-”

He waved a hand and laughed. “It’s fine, I know everyone thinks that, you’re just the first person to say it to my face.”

You couldn’t tell if he was offended and playing it off, or if he was really this nonchalant about it. 

“Look, no offense, but I don’t think we need to be buddies for this to work. I would rather just get in the field and work things out from there.” You explained as directly as you could. 

“That’s fair.” He nodded, to your surprise. 

The small-talk ended and when he tried to pay for lunch, you insisted on giving your share. The rest of the day was uneventful, except for the twinge of guilt you had when you thought back on how you spoke to him.

When you got home, you collapsed on the couch next to your roommate, a graphic designer who worked from home and was always in her PJs. You envied her.

“Another rough day at the office, sweetie?” She asked, patting you on the head, condescending but still sincere.

“Remember that douchebag at work I told you about?”

“Oh, the cute one?” She asked with a smile, having seen him when coming to drop off some lunch for you once.

“Whatever, anyway.” You sat up to face her. “The good news is that I got a promotion to a position that lets me travel.”

“Hey, that’s great!” She beamed.

“The bad news is that we have to do it together.”

She looked to consider it for a moment before her lips curled into a devious smile. “On the road for work? Hotel stays? Working in close proximity? Ohh, this is like a spicy romance novel!”

“Ew, stop.” You scowled.

“Only if you stop pretending he’s not hot.”

“Someone can be objectively hot and I can still not like them or be attracted to them. He’s arrogant and he seems to think we’re on the same page somehow. He’s oblivious to his own privilege.”

“Okay, I get that, sorry for teasing you. But hey, this is the break you were looking for, right? Focus on the positive.”

“Thank you.”

She opened up her arms and you hugged for a long moment.

“Maybe while you’re traveling you’ll finally get laid.” She said suddenly into your ear, and you pulled back and glared at her.

“Sorry, sorry! I just know that lately you haven’t really been-”

You stood up from the couch as she spoke. “I’m going to my room now.”

“Let me know if you need help packing!”

You closed your bedroom door and sighed. She meant well, but she had a way of saying things so bluntly that it didn’t quite help. She was right about that, though. Your career wasn’t the only stagnant thing in your life. 

You hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in 2 years, and in that time had only experienced a sprinkling of dates that never went anywhere and the 2-3 times you randomly hooked up with someone to great disappointment. Frustrated was an understatement, and you knew part of it was bleeding over into your professional life. 

You didn’t expect to have any sort of passionate tryst while out for work, but maybe simply getting into a new scenery would make you feel better?

To Be Continued

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

Djinn’s Bride! ~A Celebration of Love~

Part 4

[Walpurga Nacht Academty]

[Prefect Meeting Room]

Rosa: [cough] Is- [cough] Is this for real?!

Cass: [cough] Th-There’s- [cough] so much smoke in here! My- [cough] My eyes are burning…

Agatha: [cough] Annoying… [cough]

Blanche: Wait- [cough] the smoke is clearing. 

Diana: …

Rosa: E-EH?! Isn’t- Isn’t that a-

Diana: A djinn.

Rosa: He-He’s huge!! And is that smoke?!

Blanche: Djinns are elementals that take the form of smoke to facilitate easier travel. They do not have a body per se, but they are still capable of interacting with the material world.

Marcia: …

Rosa: Isn’t that kinda like cheating?!

June: HEY!! YOU SHITTY GHOUL! WHY ‘HE ‘ELL YA GONE AND DID ‘HAT, HUH?!

Vita: Hm~? My apologies, beanstalk. It seems that I am incapable of understanding that horribly awkward accent of yours. Perhaps speaking less like a swine might help, hm~?

June: YOU FUC-

[ROAR]

[GROUND SHAKING]

Cass: Eek!

Rosa: Woah, woah, woah! Wh-what’s going on?!

Blanche: Th-The noise!!

Diana: … Ugh.

June: It’s too fuckin’ loud!!

Vita: My~ What a great pair of lungs this creature has at his disposal~

June: Don’t ya smile, ya freak!

Agatha: Don’t… threaten… Big… Sis… !!

June: Haaaaaa?! Ya want to get pummeled, ya shit?! Outta my way ‘fore I-

Rosa: I-It stopped! 

Blanche: … Finally.

Cass: Mi-Miss Dion! Are you alright?! Um, you suddenly collapsed-

Blanche: I’m fine, Cassandra. No need to worry. It was merely the noise.

Cass: Th-That’s such good news to hear!

Rosa: Eh? Diana? Are you ok? You’re holding your head.

Diana: Mm. Just wasn’t expecting that. But now it’s fine. I got it memorized.

Rosa: Me-Memorized? Huh? 

Diana: Mm.

Rosa: … I-I don’t really get it, but you seem to have things under control! Still, that roar really freaked me out. Seriously, what the hell is up with that lamp, Marcia? You just said it wasn’t magic, but then it suddenly started spouting smoke and now this djinn came out? That’s way too- Marcia? Marcia? Hey! Are you listening to me? HEY!

Marcia: … [mumble]

Rosa: Huh? What was that?

Marcia: … a djinn…

Rosa: Eh? Don’t tell me you’re just realizing it?!

Marcia: It’s a djinn!!

Rosa: Ye-Yeah! I noticed! So what are we-

Marcia: AND I WASN’T THE ONE WHO SET IT FREE!

Rosa: .... Huh…?

Marcia: Shit! I can’t believe I missed a chance like this?! Aaaaaaaah!! This is so frustrating!!

Rosa: …

Marcia: Senpai, switch with me!! I’ll give you anything you want in exchange for that lamp!! Name your price! I’m begging you!

Rosa: SHE ACTUALLY DID IT! SHE’S PROSTRATING HERSELF ON THE GROUND! HAVE SOME DIGNITY AT LEAST, MARCIAAAAAAA!

Marcia: You moron!! Dignity means nothing in the face of such things! I’m throwing it all away! So, please, senpai!

Vita: Oh my~ How exciting~ To see you kneel before me like that certainly sends a shiver down my spine~

Agatha: Hehehehehehehe… dumb… chowder… finally… learned… its… place… Hehehehehehe!

Marcia: That’s right! That’s right! I’m just dumb, lowly chowder that should be trampled over! Oh, great senpai! Great sinister presence! I’m not worthy to stand before you! So, please, just the lamp and I’ll be gone!

Cass: Mi-Miss Pyroeis!

June: HEEEEEEY! YA DUMBASS STAND UP! THE ‘ELL YA DOIN’?!

Marcia: SHUT IT! 

June: ?!

Marcia: I’m not letting this sort of opportunity pass me by! Those wishes are gonna be mine!

June: … Ya really askin’ for a beatin’, ain’tcha? ‘Hat’s fine by me.

Cass: Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Miss Himalia! Ple-Please don’t fight right now, um!

June: Don’t hold me back, Cass! I’ll pummel ‘his one and ‘hen the shitty ghoul’s next!

Vita: My, you certainly are like an enraged bull. Not surprising, considering your level of intelligence~

June: YA BI-

Diana: ENOUGH.

All: !!!

Cass: Mi-Miss Arrow…

Marcia: Di-Diana…

Diana: Vita. June. Fighting among ourselves makes us better targets.

June: …

Vita: …

Diana: We have other problems now.

Djinn: Oh? You’re talking about me? Yeah, I think you’re talking about me. About time, I’ll say! You really took your time getting me in this story, didn’t you?

Blanche: Story? Just what-

Djinn: But nevermind that! It’s all water over the bridge! Or water under the bridge? You know, I can never keep these things straight at all! You’d guess 100,000 years in a lamp would make you better at remembering stuff, but let me tell you, it sure doesn’t! Hahahahahaha!

Cass: Um…

Djinn: A-ny-way~ Can’t tell you all how glad I am to be finally out of that thing! I mean sure, the place’s great and all, and the landlord’s a real sweetheart - handsome, to boot too, not wanting to brag - but the room service sucked since you have to do everything yourself! Get it, ‘cause you’re all alone in there?

Rosa: …

Djinn: Wow, tough crowd tonight, isn’t it? What, a kappa sucked out your sense of humor? HA! Kappa joke! Get it?! Hilarious, right?

Diana: …

Djinn: Yeesh. Got a warmer reception by the Moss Fairies up in the Mountains. HA! Though let me tell you those girls can partaaaaaay! Wooo, most fun I had that entire century!

Agatha: … Annoying.

Djinn: Woah, woah, woah! That was seriously rude! Didn’t your parents teach you better? I sure hope you’re not the one who summoned me if you’re just gonna act like that. Speaking about that~

Rosa: Woah! Way too close!

Cass: Eek!

Djinn: Which one of you loooooovely ladies just so happened to wake me up from my nap, hm?

Rosa: Eh? Ah, that was…

Marcia: SENPAI! PLEASE! I REST AT THE FEET OF YOUR GLORIOUS SELF AND BEG FOR MERCY!

Vita: Oh, if ‘tis be the case… Hm~ Very well~

Diana: …

Blanche: You’re just going to hand it over like that?

Vita: What a distrustful gaze~ Do you think me so heartless that I would viciously ignore such an earnest cry?

Agatha: Big… Sis… is… really… kind… hehehehehehe...

Rosa: Aaah, that’s somehow really hard to picture…

Agatha: That’s… because… the… amoeba’s... brain… is… too… small...  

Rosa: Why-

Marcia: YAHOOOOO! Alright, alright, alright! After everything that happened… all the hardship… all the hard work… I’m finally getting my well-earned reward! Aaaah, it’s like I’m floating with overflowing happiness~

Rosa: She’s definitely gone…

Blanche: It seems so…

Marcia: Djinn!

Djinn: Hm? What’s up?

Marcia: Yo-You’re kinda more informal than I imagined… But nevermind that! You asked about your master, didn’t you?! Well, here she stands!

Djinn: Oh? It’s you? 

Rosa: Hey, is it just me or does this guy sound kinda disappointed?

Djinn: Hm~ I was hoping it would be that buxom, long haired one over there, but I guess a tomboy with short hair works well too~

Marcia: A-Ah, the standards for Masters are kinda… Uh, nevermind! I’ll have my three wishes now, please! First, I want a super huge vault filled with money that keeps filling up no matter how much you take out of it! Next, I want a potion that can cure any ailment in existence and give you eternal health! Then, I want-

Djinn: Oh, about that… No can do.

Marcia: Hu-Huh?! What do you mean “No can do”?! You’re a djinn, right?! You fulfill your Master’s wishes, don’t you?! 

Djinn: Well, normally, yeah…

Marcia: Then what’s the problem?! I’m your Master, aren’t I?!

Djinn: Hm, I guess I have to settle for you… But, you’re wrong about the wish-granting thing.

Marcia: … What? 

Djinn: Sure, us, djinn, usually do that sort of stuff. Granting wishes. Making people rich. Getting them the date of their dreams… However, I’ve decided to leave all that behind!

Marcia: …

Djinn: It’s all become so passe, you know? It’s more the stuff your grandparents would do, and I’m just not about that. So, I said screw it. After all, you’ve only got an eternity, right? Why waste it on a soul-crushing job? 

Marcia: …

Rosa: Mm, is it just me or is he making sense here?

Blanche: Rosalia…

Djinn: That’s it! You get it, strawberry shortcake! I gotta be a free man! Make my own choices!

Blanche: Is that so… ?

Djinn: Oh, yeah! That’s why I decided to pursue comedy instead!

Rosa: Eh?! Really?! Me too!

Djinn: No way! Guess it was fate that brought us together, cutie pie!

Rosa: Eh! Th-That’s way too close!

Djinn: So, tell me a little about yourself! What do you like to do? Besides being drop dead gorgeous~!

Rosa: Ugh!

Agatha:... Gross.

Vita: My~ It seems that our dear acquaintance fancies himself a bit of a charmer~

Marcia: …. No way.

Vita: Hm~?

Marcia: No way…

Cass: Mi-Miss Pyroeis? 

Marcia: NO WAAAAAAAAY!

Cass: Eek!

Blanche: !!!

Djinn: Hm?

Marcia: You’ve got to be kidding me! What kind of twisted joke is this, huh?! To have the rug pulled from beneath my feet just when I was about to reach the promised paradise! What sort of being would take such pleasure in this cruelty?!

Vita: Fufu.

Djinn: Hey, hey, girlie! I feel like that is a dig at me, ain’t it?

Marcia: Dig?! This is more a questioning of your entire existence! If you were just planning on being useless from the beginning then why’d you even come out of that lamp, huh?!

Blanche: Marcia! Calm down.

Marcia: I refuse to! This sort of trauma can’t be overlooked just like that! Aaaah! I’ve never wanted to become more like the paint on the walls than now!

Blanche: She’s completely stopped making any sense…

Djinn: Woah, just chill, won’t you? Can’t believe I’m getting a reception like this from my own Master. Talk about bad management, huh? Sure, you ain’t getting those wishes. But who cares?

Marcia: I do!! I very much do!! It’s my whole reason for existing! Now I’m just a spineless jellyfish carried by currents! What’s the point in even existing like this, huh?!

Cass: Mi-Miss Pyroeis!

Djinn: Yeesh. That’s a bit over dramatic… Listen here girlie, you’re not getting those wishes. You’re getting something even better!

Marcia: … Huh? Really?

Djinn: Oh yeah! Drum Rolls please!!

[Drum Rolls]

Djinn: You’re getting the ultimate, most coveted, chance of a lifetime opportunity ooooooooof…

MARRYING ME!

Marcia: … Eh… ?

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH?

back | next

[kylosupremeimagines]

How They Are With a Partner Still In College: (Kylo, Adam Sackler, Clyde, and Charlie)

Kylo: There are many colleges and universities throughout the galaxy to attend so there’d be plenty of choices for you, as well as the amount of majors to take on. As he values supporting one another, there’s nothing that he wouldn’t do if it meant you’d be able to further your education. He’d feel terrible if you’re offended by the fact that he offers to cover any expenses since he’s in the first order and has access to whatever is necessary. Some people want to pay their own way through school, so if that’s what you’d want to do, then so be it. He supposed that it’s for the best that you’ve got something to occupy you more often since he finds himself caught up in his responsibilities as commander. Though, he will make sure that you are still able to make time for one another. After what he hopes is an easy yet thought provoking four years, he’s going to show his pride for you through a trip to anywhere in the galaxy you’d want to go as vacation. And Kylo would make sure that it was the best trip that you’d ever been on, doing anything that he knows you love.  

Adam: All throughout your time in college, Adam is going to be your personal little cheerleader, as cheesy as that may sound. The fact that you’re doing something with your life regardless of your area of study, not that he believes people who don’t go to college don’t do anything with themselves. He won’t get overbearing with it, but Adam will surely check in on you to see how you’re doing with school.  If anything important comes up, like you finishing a semester with straight A’s or after finals week, he’s going to treat you to a nice night; it’ll involve a nice dinner he made himself (albeit from a recipe online), a line of movies for the night to watch, and some of the best sex you’d have in a while. Once you graduate, he may go a little more overboard than usual because he would be just so damn proud of you. Even if so many people go to college, he still feels the need to celebrate with you. It will be just the two of you, one of those few times that you two will ever go to a fancy restaurant together, since that sort of date night is reserved for only the most special of nights. 

Clyde: Clyde himself never really graduated college because he went straight into the military as well as silent his time back home bartending and taking in smaller jobs for money. He actually didn’t have a great chance of going even if he wanted since his family wasn’t well off enough to help him out. And at the time it didn’t occur to him to get scholarships from his service in The military.  Therefore, he never quite understood the college scene or even the hype behind it. Regardless, he would be proud that you went to college at all. It doesn’t matter what you study Because he’s going to support you in any area of study you focus on. He’d ensure that the entire family knows how proud of you he is, and may brag to a few people that come through the bar on occasion. When it comes time for you to graduate, once again with the family, he would get everyone together to celebrate. You can bet that it will be just about the best graduation celebration that anyone has ever put together, as there would be a nice Barbecue with plenty of family over. 

Charlie: If he has a significant other going to college, he’s going to support you just as much as he’d hope you do his work in the theater industry. Just because he��s got a kid doesn’t mean he won’t be more than willing to accept that you’re in college. Even Henry would be interested in the fact that you’re in college, as he sees college students as “cool” as he would put it.  He’s going to be as patient as you need with your school schedule. Because of that, he won’t let you worry about anything with taking care of Henry when he’s over instead of at Nicole's, such as with getting him to school. Although he would appreciate anything you could do, to Charlie, your education would come first. Sure he may not be able to do much for you but he would be invested in your studies, interested to hear about anything you’ve learned that you wanted to talk about. To celebrate graduation, he’s going to put together a nice dinner for you two to share, the first “celebration” being  with just you two so that you could enjoy the night in private. But later, Henry would insist on doing something together as a family. 

Tag List: @scheherazades-horcrux @alladeline @attorneyl @babybluelukex@glitzescape @dancewaterdance02 @celiholland @crkylo@celestiaelisia @xsister-serpent @fizzywoohoo @topsykretts92 @ayatimascd@delicatelyherdreams @ddriveringg @littlegirlsdontplaynice @yymmaarr@darlinguris @bellaren18 @queenofheartsmegs @themauvemage@starlingmehdarling @anti-climactic @mollmoll01 @reylokisses @smallt1ddygothgf @mira-winterlight @glassythoughts @moon-390 @fralackles @zaneholtzwrites​ @pinkmoontribe-blog​

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [6]

Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 6.5 OR Chapter 7

➜ Words: 4.1k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

You try not to let the negative, disgusting feelings get to you.   But envy is a monster that keeps hovering over your shoulder, always peering at what you’re doing, always making petty comments in your weakest moments. You try to tune it out, but it constantly tempts you in whispers to be honest with yourself.   It’s hard to keep it at bay too when every turn you make, you see Jimin’s face. From the moment you step outside the comfort of your apartment to when you get back — he never gives you a moment to compose yourself, to heal, to overcome the green monster. He sticks to your side like gum and you can’t help the way your resentments build into hatred.   “Did you hear?” there are murmurs as you’re cleaning up a spill on the floor, knees sore and bruised blue. The director spilled his coffee and immediately pointed at you and told you to take care of the mess.   “What?”   “Jimin got a role in the Les Mis production.”   “What? Really?” she gasps. “That’s impressive. No wonder he’s not here today.”   “I knew he could do it, he’s cute. I’d let him have his way with me.”   “God, you’re never satisfied, aren’t you?” There are snickers and giggles. “But he must be really good. Didn’t he just come here too? But we should see if we can get tickets to watch.”   “Good idea. I’d love to see him on stage,” she hums. “I wonder if he’ll quit this job.”   “Probably. Working as an intern here is pretty much working as a slave for the director. It’s a shitty ass job,” she mutters and you can feel their heavy stares on your backside. “Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”   “Shame,” she sing-songs. “I was hoping he’d stick around.”   Your hand crumples into a tight fist, into the dirty cloth that’s stained your skin. Then you scrub harder until your fingernails hurt, until it’s as painful as the way your eyes sting.   //   Your appetite is gone. You can’t swallow your food despite having skipped lunch — the director had sent you on a wild goose chase to pick up a package at the post office and by the time you were done, your lunch break was long over.   You play with dinner using your fork, and Jimin doesn’t notice. He keeps talking about all about him and his accomplishments. You didn’t want to be here in the first place, but he insisted on going out for a celebratory dinner, pressured you into it even when you tried rejecting him.   And here you are.    “So I came in today for the first time, and it was so exciting. You wouldn’t believe it, Y/N. You were right when you said the Phantom production was low-budget. These sets that some other musicals have are a world’s difference.”   “I see.”   Jimin stuffs his cheeks with french fries, getting ketchup at the corner of his mouth. “I’m starting officially on Monday, so I’ll probably quit my internship. I already gave the director a call to let him know tomorrow will be my last day and he sounded pretty happy for me. He even said he’d write a recommendation letter if I ever needed one.”   You drop the fork in your bowl, retracting your hands into your lap. “Wow, that’s really great, Jimin.”   “I don’t think I’ll need a letter any time soon.” Jimin smiles and shakes his head, sipping on his soda. “I’m just so psyched to begin rehearsals. They ran me through a few things and what my costume will be and what it’ll look like before we perform in a few months. Sometimes I just can’t believe that I’m actually there. It’s just surreal to think about how I’ll be on stage. Everything at that production is so amazing, Y/N, completely different from Phantom’s production, you should’ve seen it.”   “Yeah. Wish I could’ve….”   “And now people are taking my coffee orders! Can you believe that?!”   You can’t even muster a smile. There’s a thick lump formed in your throat that hurts to talk past and you’re holding back from crying, not wanting to lose the last shreds of your pride.   Jimin doesn’t know that you never asked to hear any of this, that his innocent gloating is grating to your ears.    “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He gives a cheesy grin and then bites into his burger and puts it down after wiping his mouth free of the sauce. “Seriously, if not for you, I probably wouldn’t have made the role. I didn’t know what I was doing before you taught me the ins and outs of the industry. I bet I’d still be at home rolling around in bed.”   Your tight lipped mouth attempts to pull. “You’re welcome.”   “I’d love to make it up to you some time...s-so...uh...I-I’ve been meaning to ask something.” Jimin nervously laughs and scratches the back of his neck.   You wonder why you’re here, why you’re allowing yourself to feel this misery. You should be at home, underneath the covers of your own bed. Not out here in the cold feeling humiliated. You’ve wasted enough time on Jimin and he’s gotten what he wanted from you.   The two of you are no less than strangers.   “O-Of course, only if you want to, no pressure whatsoever, but there was this theater show coming up tomorrow, I was wondering, well I wanted to ask, um, if you wanted to j-join, I got tickets—”   You don’t hear him. Too busy in your own thoughts.   You grab your bag. “I’m not feeling very well, Jimin. I think I’m going to head home first.”   His eyes are owlish, big and rounded, blinking at you. The boy looks at your unfinished food and then back at you in alarm. “Are you okay? Do you need me to bring you to the hospital? What’s wrong?”   “No, I’m fine. I’m just—” You sigh, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. “—tired.”   Tired from the day. Tired of your life. Tired of him.   Jimin stands when you do. “We can go back together.”   “No, it’s fine,” you insist as lies roll off your tongue, “I might actually stop by a friend’s house tonight.”   “Do you want me to walk you to the subway then? I can go right now—”   “No, it’s okay. Promise.” You can’t bring yourself to smile at him, to spend one more second in his presence. You’re scared you might permanently hate Jimin. “See you.”   “Bye…” His hand lifts to wave, watching you walk away.   Once you’ve disappeared from sight, Jimin dejectedly plops back down into the seat of his booth. He peeks into his pocket and sighs as he looks at the two tickets to the show. He shouldn’t have been so nervous. He wonders what he should do with them now.   But next time. Next time for sure, he’ll ask you on a date.

You’re strung around a lot.   You realized this after your many encounters with Jimin, but everyone in your entire life has strung you around like a pet for their own amusement. Even now, the director brings you places to do his dirty work for him while making you believe that he’ll give you a reference someday, that he’ll give you a chance.    But if you’re honest with yourself, you know he’ll never do it.   He’ll never pick up his goddamn phone and call an agent for you. He’ll never give you the praise you deserve for being his ghost singer. And these facts alone are enough for you to want to grab the nearest brick available and smash it on his dumb head.   But you can’t do that as irritated and as pissed off as you are these days. You can’t go to prison and you can’t quit this shitty job. You need money from somewhere, and you won’t be succeeding in any auditions any time soon — you know that too.   You’re stuck. Trapped in your own inability to succeed. Stranded in your own routine. Even when the entire world keeps moving.   You feel like you’re in a glass case, a phone booth in the middle of the metropolis, watching the universe continue, watching how others move past you.   “Intern. Intern!”   “Huh?”   “Did you not hear me?” The director sighs and rubs his temples. “Don’t make me regret bringing you here, alright?”   Except he didn’t bring you here willingly. Taeyeon couldn’t come to the networking event — the stupid party for ‘charity’ that was actually meant for the sponsor to brag about his wealth. The invitation became open and he saw you staring at him intently, so he reluctantly told you to come with. But now the director was acting like he has bestowed onto you a huge honour.   “Go get one of the waiters to bring those finger food platters to us. They keep running out by the time they get to this side of the room.”   “Yes, sir.”   You remind yourself this job is a privilege. A privilege.   You cut through the room and crowds that make you sweaty. It feels as though everyone’s eyes are on your backside despite knowing that logically no one cares. You’re a ghost in the sea of fancy dresses and glamour.   “—And so, one day I just told him that of course we had to eat during the layover, we were in Italy for god’s sake. It’s eat-aly for a reason.”   Seokjin seems to be enjoying himself. He’s drawn in a crowd with his handsomeness and godly appearance. Even his ridiculous jokes rouse laughter. You’d probably giggle along if he ever wanted to entertain you, but at this point, you might end up bursting into tears after laughing.   “You’re so funny, Jin.”   “Am I? Hmm. Always thought I should do stand-up comedy.”   You continue making your way, catching a waiter walking past and in an attempt to grab his attention, you dive straight through a hoard of people. Apologies roll off your tongue while they grunt. But by the time you get to the other side, the waiter is gone.   Instead you see someone else — the person that you wanted to see the least in the whole entire world.   “Actually, I started in community theater.”   “Oh, really?! What did you do?”   “Well, I did a lot, but I think my favourite role was when I did Peter Pan. That was pretty fun and a really good experience.”   “I can see that.” The suited man hums. “Can’t you?”   “Yes.” The woman on the man’s arm is swooning over the younger boy. “I think that role is rather fitting.”   The brunette is dressed in a well-pressed suit that looks brand new, as if he had just got it off the rack yesterday in haste. But he looks comfortable surrounded in his new group, probably members of his production.   You watch for a second from afar, stuck at another standstill, feet rooted in the ground. Jimin gets along with people easily. He’s only shy on the surface. It’s smart to talk to so many people and to expand his horizons, to actively socialize. He’ll probably get more connections here at the event. It’s only up from here.   You’re envious that Jimin is being presented as a new Broadway actor while you’re just an intern.   Though you sigh with a smile despite your inner turmoil. For a second, one small second, you’re almost happy for him—   But the timing is poor.   As you turn away to fully disappear, he catches you out of the corner of his eye. And Jimin takes a step forward, calling your name out loud, clear and crisp in the air. You shut your eyes, hoping your ears are mistaken, but they aren’t.   He dismisses himself from his new colleagues and comes over to you with the biggest smile.   “I didn’t know you would be here, Y/N!.”   “Y-Yeah, um, I’m here as an intern.”   “Oh, I didn’t even see the director. I should go say hi.” Jimin glances up and down at you. You wonder if he’s judging your meager attire when everyone else is glamorous. But you don’t let your thoughts stray too far into self-deprecation.   You inhale a huge breath, trying your best to get along with him.   “You look like you’re having a fun time.”   “Hardly,” Jimin admits. “I just came since everyone else did and I didn’t want to be that new guy who didn’t come to social events, y’know?”   “Yeah, I get it.”   You wonder when it became so hard to talk to him.   “The food here is actually pretty good, have you had a chance to try it yet?”   “No, not yet.”   “I recommend the tiramisu and truffle fries. It’s delicious. Here we should go to the buffet table.”   “Actually, Jimin, I have to go—”   “There’s something I want to tell you,” he interjects with a softened smile. Jimin waits patiently for your response, so you nod, following him for the sake of not being awkward.   The two of you come to a quieter spot by the corner of the room where the tables are.   “What is it?”   “Earlier I was just walking around trying to make conversation with different people and I spoke to this guy and we had a pretty regular conversation, but it turns out he’s the casting director of an upcoming, original production!” Jimin’s excitedly rambling, sharing the good news with you as if you’re close friends. “It’s called When Summer Meets Winter, and there’s nothing official yet, but he said he really likes me. Do you think I’ll get a part?”   You don’t know why he’s telling you this.   “I...I don’t know, Jimin.”   “Can you believe it though? If I had another role lined up right after this one?!”   “Congratulations,” you deadpan.   “Well nothing’s decided yet.” Jimin sheepishly smiles, unaware of how he was literally pouring kilograms of salt into your wounds, gallons of gas into the fire.   “Is this what you wanted to tell me? I should really get going, Jimin. I’m on the job right now. And I can’t afford to get fired.”   “Wait.” He grabs your wrist before you can turn away from him, desperate eyes asking you to stay for a moment longer. “I...a-actually wanted to ask you something…..and I’ve been meaning to do it for a while now but I never really got the chance, well that’s not true, I had a lot of chances but I chickened out because I was a coward—”   “What?” you sigh in exasperation, annoyed beyond belief. “What is it, Jimin?”   He looks you dead in the eyes. “Will you come with me to an improv class?”   “Pardon?”   “There’s an upcoming improv class. I heard about it, and it’s free. It’s just that we had gone to so many shows before but we never got a real chance to participate, so I thought it would be really fun.”   You don’t want to. Thinking about it makes you scared. And you still haven’t healed from your most recent failure.   “I don’t think so, Jimin...I…”   “Please?” he insists, “I think it would be so much fun.”   “I’ve been pretty busy—”   “I haven’t even told you when it was yet! How would you know if you’re busy?” Jimin laughs, the sound bubbling out of his throat. “And plus, they have a lot of days available.”   There’s an extended silence.    It’s too much work to reject him, to find an excuse, to make this more awkward than it needs to be. You just want to leave, want him to let you go. So you agree. “Fine.”   He grins. “Okay. It’s this Friday at seven. I’ll see you then?”   “Sure. But—”   You’re interrupted by a yell. “Y/N! Where did you go? My god, I sent you to do one task and you got distracted like this?” The director is appalled as he comes over, shaking his head, outright humiliating you.   And Jimin smiles. “Director Kang! How are you?”   “Jimin!” The older man smiles and hugs him. “What’s my favourite intern doing here?”   “I came with my new production team.”   “Up on the high ranks now, aren’t you?” Director Kang slings his arm over Jimin’s shoulder as if the pair of them are sharing a secret. “Make sure to remember who got you there. It’s good to show gratitude.”   Jimin steals a glance at you. “I remember.”   But by then, you’ve already turned away, grabbing the nearest waiter and asking him to bring over a platter of finger foods for the director.   People might see you as a timid mat to walk all over. But you just really itch to set the whole place on fucking fire.    //   Friday comes too quickly, and once you step outside to face the consequences of your decisions, Jimin is there to greet you with a smile as if to show how perfect his life is going.   On the way there, he summarizes his week and somehow gives extensive details — from the rehearsals to the new things he learnt, to how amazing the cast is and what it’s like to work with people who are passionate about musicals. You tune him out, and fortunately you arrive soon enough.   It’s a dingy entrance way and a hall that leads to a lit studio. But as skeptical as you were, there’s quite a few people there. There are around thirteen folks who are both friendly as they are invasive. Though Jimin is comfortable with them while you linger behind him.   It quiets down when the teacher steps into the room.   “Hello everyone.” The blonde with bright eyes flashes a boxy smile. He’s dressed in a loose dress shirt, tight trousers, a sophisticated but casual outfit. And he’s charming, outspoken, drawing the attention of the crowd. “Looks like we have some new faces today, so I’ll introduce myself. My name is Kim Taehyung. I am an aspiring screenplay writer and producer, currently assisted to Director Lee if you know who he is. And today, I am your improv teacher, director, leader, whatever you want to call it.”   Kim Taehyung….   Everyone goes around the room to introduce themselves, and your fixation on Taehyung shatters when Jimin, next to you, announces himself.   “Hello! My name is Park Jimin, and I’m currently working towards my Broadway debut.”   “Oh, impressive,” Taehyung genuinely expresses, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “What production are you in?”   “Les Mis.”   “Wow.” He nods with a smile and looks off at you. You feel the entire focus of the room shift onto you and you begin sweating, uncomfortable, panicking.    “I’m Y/N…” You cringe at how awkward you are, at how quiet your volume is. Others have to murmur to each other to confirm what your name is.   But Taehyung smiles kindly. “And are you interested in improv, Y/N?”   “A little.”   He laughs, a glorious sound that’s chirpy and melodic. “Well, let’s hope it changes to a lot by the time this is over.”   Taehyung turns to the class afterwards, reassuring that it’s all for fun while explaining what the theme is for today. He also explains the rules, what to do, and how to set up a scene.   “Oh no, a man’s been shot!” someone screams, startling you to death.   “I’m the paramedic.” Someone else steps in right away. “He can only be saved by true love’s kiss.”   “Oh my god, George!” Another comes colliding onto the set up scene, next to the man laying on the ground. Someone asks if she’s his girlfriend and she responds with, “I’m his sister.”   It arouses some stiff laughter. “Well that’s awkward. We need someone to kiss him!”   “Gross, I’m not kissing him,” the supposed sister drops him back onto the ground. “He has herpes.”   “She’s right.” Jimin seizes the opportunity and comes in. “I’m his doctor and he’s contracted herpes through kissing raccoons.”   “Are you sure that it’s herpes and not rabies?”   “I’m sure.”   “They’re very different things.”   “I’m aware,” Jimin says smoothly, thinking on his toes, “But we need someone to kiss him stat.”   “Well, you’re the doctor! Can’t you go through the medical procedures and kiss him?!”   “Sorry. Can’t risk contracting diseases. It’s protocol.”   Someone on the scene asks who they’ll contact now. But it’s so bizarre. You don’t know what’s going on — you can’t keep up — it’s happening too quickly and each time you gather the courage to jump into it, the development is too fast for you to conjure more ideas of what to do or say.   But you’re the next person to step in and everyone turns to you.   You’re apprehensive, nervous. You know you’re bad, that you’ll mess up—   “You can do it,” Taehyung murmurs, having watched the scene unfold. His arms are crossed, but his grin is welcoming and warm. He encourages you with a gentle gesture.   You clear your throat and try strutting into the scene. “I-I’m nurse Joy. I was told there was a bachelor party at this venue?”   Taehyung laughs. “Creative.”   The scene unravels in absolute absurdity. You exchange a look with Jimin before your eyes stray off to Taehyung and stay there. It’s surprisingly fun. It’s not so nerve wracking when everyone’s on their toes, when there’s no real audience or anyone to scrutinize you.   Everyone’s a part of the performance.   “There’s no right or wrong,” Taehyung tells, approaching your side as another scene is unfolding. “Try to relax more into it.”   “Okay.” You take his advice and he smiles, endeared.    An hour eventually passes and class is dismissed. Everyone bids farewell and you’re gathering your belongings when Taehyung comes up to you while wearing his coat, balancing his own briefcase.    “You’re really good. It was your first time, right?”   “Y-Yeah.” You try not to show how flustered you are over his praise. “Thanks, I don’t think I’m any good.”   “Don’t say that. It all comes with practice and hard work.”   “And luck,” you add. Not everything can be achieved through perseverance — you realized that a long time ago.   “That too. But did I end up changing your mind?”   “About what?”   “Are you a little more interested in improv?”   You consider it for a moment before becoming honest with your emotions. “A little…?”   “Only a little?” Kim Taehyung gives an exaggerated huff, obviously teasing you. “Aw, jeez, I failed, didn’t I? I was hoping you’d love it by the time it was over.”   “Maybe next time I’ll love it more,” you banter back to him and he laughs.   “So I’ll see you again?”   “Maybe.” You shrug.   Taehyung smiles, the corner of his mouth tilted gingerly. He glances down at his shoes before peeking up at you past his bangs and thick lashes. “What do you do, Y/N?” he asks in a husky timbre that has your chest stuttering.   But you don’t know what to say. You’re embarrassed to tell him you’re an intern. You’ve never been proud of that title and somehow, you find yourself not wanting to tell him.   So you opt to evade it playfully. “Why do you want to know?”   He hums a low note. “Because I’d love to know your availability—”   “Y/N?” He’s interrupted by a soft voice and when the both of you turn, you find Jimin has been standing at the doorway, having watched the entire interaction. His cheeks are pink and he tensely hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “We...should get going. Wouldn’t want to miss the train…”   You look back at Taehyung. “Um, I really had a fun time today. Thanks for teaching…”   “It’s my pleasure, Y/N.”    You like the way he calls your name. The way the syllables roll off his tongue. It sounds nice. Pleasant.    When you walk out the door and glance back, you see his boxy grin and cheerful wave. You wave back to him with a kind of smile that hasn’t reached your features in a long time.   “Did...you have fun?” Jimin peeks at you as you’re on your way back.   “Yeah, surprisingly.” You smile up at the night sky before turning to Jimin. “Taehyung’s super nice, huh?”   “Yeah. He is. He’s pretty good looking too.”   “I know, right?” You giggle. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”   The two of you keep walking, but you don’t realize when Jimin’s steps slow. You don’t come to see the dismayed expression on his face.   It’s the first time in a while that you feel this good.

[yeeterparkersblog]

Last Days | PART 1

Pairing: 6 Underground! Four/Billy x reader

Word Count: 6.1 k 

Warnings: Stealing is bad, kids; Sugar baby/daddy jokes; Mentions of stripping 

Summary: To everyone else, he was a suave young man in a gang of thieves, someone they would rather not get tangled up with. To you, he was a cheeky bastard who wouldn’t get out of your hair and most of all, a rival thief. But one day, Billy decides to reach out to you, proposing that you work together.

A/N: Right. Hello. This is my first fic for the Ben/Borhap fandom. If it sucks I sincerely apologize from the bottom of my cavity. So this story is not taking place during the events of 6 Underground, its more of a prequel to the movie. So basically there might be some foreshadowing, but there are no direct relationships to the movie. Also this fic time jumps a lot, so I hope you guys can keep track of it.

This fic is dedicated to @benhardyisdaddy​ . Faith, you are amazing! No more than a week after 6 underground came out, Must Be A Dream was up and posted. Imagine the amount of dedication and hard work that you give. Congrats on 3k, you deserve all of it.

The Pasteque Necklace. An emerald necklace worth almost 3 million, unveiled at the National Museum 2 months ago, and soon to be yours.

You’ve already knocked out the three guards making their rounds in the museum. Easy enough. And now comes the fun part. You rounded the corner into the large hallway that would lead you to your treasure. You wasted no time at all. You quickly made your way to the showcase room, careful to shoot out any security cameras with a silenced gun.

After the necklace had first been revealed on TV, you went straight into planning mode. Now you knew there was an electric field around the pedestal. It took you time to assemble the proper apparatus that could deactivate the filed. It hadn’t been cheap either. You’ve spent so much time and resources on this heist, and after two months, your hard work could finally bear its fruit.

You jogged towards the pedestal and you were prepared to take out the gadgets, but then as your neared it, you quickly realized you didn’t need it at all. The electric field had already gone, the velvet box had already been opened, and the necklace!? Well! It had already been taken away.

In its place, stuck neatly onto the smooth velvet box, was a small sticky note. Your lips snarled with annoyance. You had a feeling you knew who’d done this.

You snatched the note from the box, ready to get this over with. And sure enough…

“i told you i’d beat you to it  -B” 

—

“You absolute wanker!” you fumed, snatching away the bottle of beer he had been drinking. You slid into the booth opposite him and downed the rest of his drink. “Have you pawned it off already, you cunt?!”

He threw his hands up innocently. “Hello to you too,” He straightened up in his seat and beamed at you. Christ, he was enjoying this a bit too much. “Fancy seeing you here, then.”

“Please!” I spat. “You know I work here!”

“Yeah, shouldn’t it be your shift right about now?”

“Well I took the day off. Thought I wouldn’t need the extra money.” You leaned in, giving him a wicked scowl. “But of course you know all that, don’t you?”

“You seem like you’re in a bad mood” He pointed out. “Let’s have a drink. My treat! I’ve recently come into quite a bit of money.” And the fucker winked cheekily at me.

You groan exasperatedly. You fell against the seat and ran your hands through your hair, defeated. You probably invested a thousand pounds or so into this heist, thinking you’d get millions in return. But nah, all you get to do is to beg your manager for extra shifts.

Your hands were covering your face, slightly muffling your words.

“Out of all the heists that you could have hijacked-”

“Hey you were the one who challenged me.”

True. You really should know better than to wager your most important heist. The smug blonde had more experience than you had, with his little pack of trapeze thieves.

“Yeah?” You shot up straight. “You had help. That little gang of yours.”

“Oh no I did it alone. Like last time.” You didn’t think his face could get more pompous. You wanted to wipe that shit-eating smile off his face. “So this is on you, yeah?”

Ugh. ‘Last time’. It was what had started this whole thing in the first place.

—

3 MONTHS AGO

It was your first big heist. After years of petty theft, pickpocketing and larceny, you wanted something more challenging. A lot more challenging.

Go big or go home, you went for The Blasé. A diamond ring from 15th century Germany. The Blasé will set you up quite nicely.

Standing at the very end of the large hallway, you could see it from here already.

The Blasé, its large gem glittering in its glass case. The moonlight hit it through the glass ceiling overhead, and the diamond seemed to beckon you in with its shine.

Now you weren’t daft. You knew there were additional security measures set in the glass case. If you were to smash the glass and just snatch the ring away, that wouldn’t do. That would just set off the weight sensor below, and blaring alarms that would alert the police of your presence immediately after. You’d rather do this a bit more discreetly.

You chuckled, remembering how proudly the museum director had bragged about having attained the ring. “The Blasé is in very safe hands. Our security will make sure of it. No lowly thief would get their hands on the jewel,” he had said to the interviewer. “Hundred percent guarantee.”

You scoffed. Bet you wish you didn’t boast about the weight sensors now huh, Mister big shot Director?

You took out a small glass cutter, but before you could make a move, someone cleared his throat behind you. You whipped around and pointed the glass cutter at the man. But instead of a burly security guard whose knock-out gas had worn off, you were met with a fit young blond, who was staring at you intensely with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You froze in place, not really knowing how to act. How would you?

Now he was definitely good-looking. If this were anywhere else, say a café, you’d make a move. But no, you were trying to steal a 2-million-pound ring here. And how would you know that someone would be stealing the same thing you wanted to steal?! And on the very same date and time too?! And on your first big heist. What were the fucking chances?

“How cute.” The blond chuckled, pointing at the mask around your eyes. He took your mask off faster than you could react. “You know you don’t need this if you’ve already turned off the security feed?”

“Hey give it back…” It came out more of a plead than a command. You mentally cringed at how you sounded. But what’s more was that the man was acting so casual, as if this was a friendly conversation and not a crime taking place.

The man squinted his eyes and took a closer look at you, and you couldn’t help but divert your gaze. His eyes suddenly glinted with recognition.

“Hey you’re that girl from that pub!” he laughed. “When I saw the knocked-out guards up front, I knew someone was in here. But I didn’t know it was the waitress from Ritter’s Bar.”

You rolled your eyes. A chat wasn’t what you came for. You turned your attention back to the case, getting ready to slice it with your glass cutter. However, the man put a hand out to block you.

“There’s no need for that, love. I have a more efficient way.” He gave you a sweet smile.

In one swift move, he had smashed the glass case to pieces. The case shattered with a deafening clash and fell to the ground in tiny fragments. He had grabbed the ring and sure enough, the alarms came blaring.

“Shit! What did you do?!” You scolded. “We gotta go NOW!”

“I couldn’t agree more!” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to wall, pointing up at the tiny window high above it. What the hell was he trying to pull?

And to your surprise, he put the ring on and started to climb up the wall like fuckin’ Spiderman. He got to the window and broke out.

“You arsehole! What am I supposed to do?!” I screamed at him. The front gate has definitely gone to lockdown and you were hearing sirens in the background. He was your only way out. 

“I have a name, you know? It’s Billy.” He threw down a rope. “I didn’t quite catch yours?”

“Oh sod off!” You pulled yourself up the rope. “Give me back the ring!”

“Sorry no can do. If you’re gonna be like this, I’m going to have to let you go, literally.” He dared to wink at you. You were only halfway up the wall when the rope suddenly went loose. You grabbed yourself onto a ledge before you could fall back onto the ground. You looked up to the window to see him smiling at you.

“But if I ever change my mind about the ring, I’ll know where to find you.” And with that he ran away. All that stared back at you was the moon in the night sky.

Godammit.

You used the ledge to push yourself up to the window and got out. You looked around and saw that he did in fact give you back something. But of course it wasn’t the ring, it was your ‘cute’ mask.

“JESUS CHRIST, BILLY!” You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t do anything else after that, the cops had come at that second and you had to flee before your night could get any worse.

ONE MONTH AFTER THE RING HEIST

Ritter’s Bar. Not exactly the best job in the world. Not exactly in the best part of town either. No scratch that. Civilians would actively avoid this part of town. The only people here are your own. Like a twisted and tight-knit community of thieves.

“Let me guess, Meg.” You said to a regular sitting down at the bar. “Whiskey, neat.” She gave you a small smile and you poured out some liquor for her. Just as you were setting down the shot glass, a blur of blond passed by you.

Your eyes darted to the image. It was him! Billy! The man who stole your fucking ring!

You watched him as he headed for one of the booths at the very back. He turned back and gave you a little wave. A little smirk to indicate that he knew you were watching him. You involuntarily let out a low growl of anger.

“You can let go of my glass now.” You looked down to see that your hands had gripped tightly around Meg’s glass, knuckles white. You promptly apologized, giving her the drink. “But hey. Blondie, huh?”

“What?”

“You were looking at the blond.” She shrugged. “He’s easy on the eyes but I wouldn’t do anything about it. His trapeze friends are fucking feral. Don’t trust them one bit.”

‘I’m all ears.”

She told you a little bit more about Billy and his gang. You would listen to her, but you could feel Billy’s gaze prickling the side of your neck.

You knew he was here to talk to you. Every time you took a glance at him, he would be staring right back. But he wasn’t initiating the conversation. He was waiting for you to give in. You weren’t going to. But then your manager saw him there sitting for 30 minutes without ordering anything and he ushered you over there.

“Order something or get out.” You folded your arms. “Dipshit.”

Billy smiled at you. “I’ll order a beer if you sit down with me, love.”

“Get out.” You started to walk away but he held you back by your wrist.

“Okay alright.” He pursed his lips and gave you a twenty. “I’ll buy a beer. But I want to talk to you, alright? It’s about the ring.”

You glared daggers at him, trying to see if he was just playing if you. Maybe he’s finally come to his senses and has decided to give you ring.

“Fine.” You said. “Hold on.”

You came back with a warm bottle of beer and sat down, pocketing the change. It was the least he could do for you. You shoved the bottle towards him. “Well?”

He shot you a look before he started talking. “Look I’m very sorry to have left you behind like that. I’m glad you got out fine, yeah?”

“Good, thanks.” You mumbled. It was nice, but not quite what you wanted to hear. “So I’ll be taking the ring now.”

“W-What? No?!” Billy looked almost baffled. “I already pawned it off! Where do you think the money for this disgustingly warm beer came from? And the ring is rightfully mine, by the way.”

“Am I to believe you’re just here to apologize?”

“Um. Yeah?! I’m not giving you the bloody ring!”

You scoffed. “It should be mine. I was there first.”

“That’s exactly what a child AND a bad thief would say.”

“I’m not a bad thief.” You shot back. “YOU just happened to be there!”

“Oh so you admit I’m a better thief then?”

“Wha- NO!” You were fuming. Your face was probably as red as a tomato by now.

The chattering of the TV caught your attention. And there it was. The Pasteque. Just brought in from France, and unveiled at the National Museum right now. An idea popped into your head.

“I’ll prove it to you, then!” You shot up, slamming down on the table. “Two months from now, I’ll have stolen something worth even more than the stupid Blasé!”

“I’ll just beat you to it.” He said with an air of confidence.

“Oh please, you don’t even know what I’m stealing!”

You stormed off before Billy could get another word in. But little did you know, Billy had noticed you darting your eyes towards the TV, and connected the dots.

“I’ll see you in two months then.” He chuckled.

—

PRESENT DAY

“Wanker.” You muttered.

“I believe you’ve already said that.” Billy shrugged. “Now, care to admit who’s the better thief? We’ve got an obvious answer.”

“Yeah yeah. It’s you. I’d buy you a beer but you’ve possibly left me broke.” You looked up at him with tired eyes. You were slightly surprised when you were met with worried ones.

“Hey I’m really sorry. Honest.” He clasped one of your hands. You were startled but you didn’t pull away. Yet. “I can help you if you want. How much do you need?”

“Maybe this isn’t cut out for me.” You pulled away from his grasp. “A few things from the supermarket or wallets from pockets? Sure. Jewelry worth millions?” You gave Billy a shrug. “Perhaps not.”

You tried to take another sip from Billy’s bottle but then you remembered it was empty.

“There’s a strip club a few blocks away.” You continued. “Maybe I could get a job there when I don’t have shifts here. I’ve been told I have ‘nice tits’ by some of the customers. I’d bet some rich old white dudes wouldn’t mind throwing some money at them.”

Billy raised his brows, pausing a second before shaking his head frantically.

“As much as I would hate to disappoint rich old white dudes. I think I have a better solution.”

“Better than having strangers grope my arse?”

“(Y/N)… you could work with me.”

It took you a second. “I’m sorry?”

“Honest, (Y/N). I think we’ll work well together.”

You scoffed, waving your hands about. “I thought you had your theatre troupe.” He rolled his eyes. “And I thought I wAsN’t a GoOD EnOuGH ThiEF.”

“Right first of all, it’s not a theatre troupe. Second, I sometimes do work alone. Like the ring and necklace, as you should know.” Now you rolled your eyes. “Third. How about we do a test drive?”

You shot him a questioning look.

“We can try working together on one heist first. See how it works out. And if we pull it off and you think we’re good together,” He shrugged. “Maybe we can do it again.”

Your fingers fiddled nervously with the bottle. The offer did sound tempting. It’d be nice to have a partner in crime. And it would be nice if the things you wanted to steal didn’t get stolen first.

“Well how do I know I can trust you?” You glared at him.

“See I knew you would say that. That’s why I didn’t pawn off the entire necklace.”

…What?

He took out a small box from his pocket and slid it across the table to you. “Consider it a peace offering.”

You accepted the box warily and opened it. Oh…wow.

“These earrings are gorgeous.” You laughed. The earrings were a pair of studs, with beautiful little emeralds on them. “I’ll assume the emeralds are from the Pasteque?”

“The very same.” He gave you a contagious smiles. How cute. “It was the least I could do. You could even wear them to the test drive if you’d like. That is, if you agree to do it.”

You held the earrings up to eye level. “Why would I wear such bling to a heist? Wouldn’t want to draw attention.”

“This time it’s to blend in.” He explained. “There’s going to be a gala at a country club down south in a month. Snobby rich trophy wives will be waltzing around with millions around their necks.”

You held the earrings up to Billy’s eyes and you couldn’t help but notice they were the same brilliant green.

“I think they’ll notice if we steal it from right under their noses, Billy.”

“That’s not the entire idea. But, I won’t go into detail until you’ve agreed. And I understand you’ll need to time to think this through. If you agree, we’ll get right into it.” He stood up from his booth and brushed himself down. “I’ll be back tomorrow for your answer, yeah?”

He stuck out his hand. He looked at you expectantly, his own pair of emeralds looking back at you. You clasped his hand with both of yours, as he did moments ago and returned his smile.

“No need. I’m in.”

The corners of his lips hinted at a smile. “I’ll pick you up after your shift tomorrow.” He paused to give me a wink I knew so well. “Feel free to quit.”

—

THE NEXT DAY

“So what’s the plan?” You slammed the car door shut, fastening your seat belt. “Better have a 100 percent success rate if you had me quit my job.”

“There’s always a certain risk involved, (Y/N).” Billy put the car into the drive. “If we succeed, we’ll be living lavishly for quite a long time. If not, then I guess you’re left to fend for yourself then. I’m not doing charity work.”

Your head snapped towards him so quickly you swore you heard a crack. “You shithead!” You took a jab at his shoulder. “I don’t have a job anymore. And I can’t go back to Ritter’s.” You sunk down into your seat in embarrassment. “Certainly not after what I’d said. And I don’t have money now! Imagine unemployment.”

“Didn’t you mention that stripper job yesterday?” He chuckled as he swatted and dodged at your feeble attempts to jab him again. “But look on the bright side. The necklace we’re stealing is gonna be enough to free you of your troubles.”

“Easy for you to say. You have money from the Blasé ring to hold on to.” He gave you a sideway glance that you brushed off. “Wait. Necklace? As in singular?”

He nodded. “Just the one.” He paused to think. ‘Well, two necklaces. But we only get to keep the one.”

“A bit stingy, innit?”

“Hey trust me a bit here! Besides you said it yourself. They’re going to notice if we steal it from right under their noses.”

“I’m still not aware of the plan.”

“Patience, love. I said I’ll explain it at my place.”

“I wasn’t aware of that either.”

“Oh pipe down, we’re here!’

He pulled into a small driveway. You took a look at the house while you stepped out of the car. Not the prettiest house, but certainly better than your apartment. You still felt the need to insult him, though.

“You couldn’t get yourself a better crackhouse with all the money you got from the jewelry?” You sassed, crossing your arms.

“Christ! You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“You’re bloody right I’m not.”

“Oh just get in the house!”

—

“So basically the whole reason the gala is happening is because of one necklace.” Billy explained. On his laptop, he looked up the country club’s website, pulling up an article on said necklace. “One of the country club members recently got his hands on an artifact. Apparently the necklace used to belong to a Russian Czar. ‘S called The Ruza”

“I assume he wants to show it off to his snooty friends?”

“Like a little boy with a brand new toy train.”

With a little more digging and scrolling, Billy finally found a picture of the necklace.

“Oh I see why you’d gone for this one.” You pulled the laptop closer, squinting your eyes at the small picture. “It’s blurry. But I can definitely see the gold.”

“It’s probably blurry on purpose.” Billy said. “Rich fucks trying to get more hype for the reveal.”

“Right so I believe this is the necklace we’re keeping?” He nods. “What about the other one. What else are we stealing?”

“Oh any piece of jewelry, really. But it needs to be a piece whose absence will be noticed when it goes missing.” You look at him questioningly, trying to get him to elaborate. He catches your look and sighs.

“Fine. You’ve ever watched Ocean’s 8?”

You tried to fight back a grin by fiddling with your cup. You weren’t looking at him but you were sure he was slightly red. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh don’t laugh. Helena Bonham Carter was brilliant in it.”

“Bloody brilliant.” You chuckled. “But I get understand the plan.”

“Recite it to me.”

“Get into the gala. Steal someone’s bling. There’s an evacuation. And when everyone’s out, you perform gymnastics and steal the Ruza.” You shrugged.

“Right. Let’s get to work.”

-

A/N: Okay so the next few scenes are like a montage. It is not taking place on the same day. It is taking place during the days leading up to the heist. So basically it’s happening over a month long period. I hope you understand what I just said lol. I’m not really good at explaining things? Oops

-

“What about the funding.” You asked. “I haven’t got any money. I’m pretty sure banks won’t lend us any either.”

“I’ll use the money I got from the Pasteque.”

“You’d really do that? That’s your money.”

“I’ll just consider it an investment.” He thought out loud. “For an even better necklace. And for your sake too.”

You smiled to yourself.

-

“We’ll have to dress the part, won’t we?” Billy asked. “Snobby gala and all.”

“Does that mean I get to take you shopping?” You smirked. “Probably get you some fancy shoes and all.”

“Oh I think I can choose for myself, thanks.” He’d interrupted before you could get anymore ideas. “And don’t you forget about the earrings.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

“Coffee break?” You asked, offering him a cup.

“Thanks.” He graciously accepted, sitting down next to you. “Hey can I ask. Why are you in so much debt?”

You sipped from your cup. “Went to uni so, student loans.”

“Ah, understandable.” He put down his cup. “But why were you working in a bar? You could have been working in something in your field.”

“I majored in accounting and graduated with good enough grades.” You said nonchalantly. “Really thought I’d get hired immediately. How naïve of me.” You scoffed.

“Doesn’t explain why you ended up being a bartender.”

“I was broke. Didn’t have any family to ask for money too.” You swirled the coffee in your cup. “Tried stealing food at a store but the owner had me fucking arrested. Then no firm wanted to hire me at all because of that little record.”

“I’m sorry.” He gave your shoulder a friendly tap. “Well sucks on them right? Now you get to be a millionaire.”

You let out a light-hearted laugh. “I’m not sad about it. I don’t regret at all, really. I’m glad I’m plotting a heist, and not working 9 to 5 for the rest of my life.”

“I’m glad too.”

-

“Hey what’s wrong?” You nudged his knee with your heel.

The two of you were on his couch with you taking up most of the space. You were laying down and had your legs sat on Billy’s lap who was sitting at the other end. Billy was staring at phone, troubled. Seconds ago, he had been fine before receiving a text.

“Oh get your feet out of my face!” He playfully swatted at them, putting on a smile.

You put away the floor plan you were observing and sat up next to him. “Don’t try to change the subject. What’s wrong?” He opened his mouth to object it but you interrupted him before he could. “I can see it on your face. It’s quite obvious.”

“Right.” He sighed and threw his phone into the couch. “Remember my ‘trapeze friends’?” You nodded. “Well they just completed a heist that I helped plan a few months back. And they said that I’m not getting my share because I didn’t actually do anything.”

He threw his hands up in a rage, standing abruptly from the couch. “Didn’t do anything?! I was the one who got the blueprints and shit! I came up with the heist too!” He massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down.

“Why didn’t you go?” You asked. But you think you knew the answer.

“(Y/N), the two of us only had one month to plan this out. It demanded my full attention if we wanted it to succeed.”

“Oh, Billy.”

“But the other heist was done. The only thing left was the execution. They said they were fine without me. They said it’d be okay and I’d get a small share for helping out.” He crossed his arms, the veins in his head were prominent with anger. “Apparently not.”

“Billy I’m so sorry. If I had known about the other heist, I wouldn’t hav-”

“Hey it’s alright don’t apologize.” His face had softened up looking at you. “It’s not your fault. I just didn’t think they’d cut my share. Alright, look.”

He grabbed his phone. “I’m gonna talk to them. Make sure there’s no bad blood.” He headed for the kitchen to talk in private. “Don’t worry, alright?” You heard him call out.

His words had put you at ease for a while, but you couldn’t help but feel worried for him. The fact that his so called ‘team’ would cut him off so willingly was unnerving.

You grabbed the floor plan you had put down earlier and continued your study. Billy had already suffered a loss helping you, might as well make sure it’s worth it.

-

“I need money.” You nudged his shoulder.

“Who am I? Your sugar daddy?” He didn’t bother to peel his eyes from his phone. “If food’s what you want, I already bought lunch. It’s on the table right there.” He vaguely waved in the direction of the kitchen.

You rolled your eyes. Oh well, if he’s gonna be like this.

You propped yourself in front of him, pouting and giving him the biggest puppy eyes. “Yes, daddy. I need money for a new dress and shoes.” Oh dear Lord this was killing you on the inside. “So you can show me off at the gala. Please, daddy?” That caught his attention.

“W-What?” He finally looked up from his phone to you with widened eyes. “Are… are you? Is this actually happening?” To your amusement, his voice was choked up and he had gone red.

Your face did a 180 and you scoffed. “I need money, you horny cunt!” You doubled back with laughter and slapped him on his shoulder. “God! How long haven’t you been shagged?!” You gripped your stomach in pain from the laughter, ignoring his mumbled protests. He curled into a fetal position with his hands over his face. If it was possible, he was even redder.

“Let’s never talk about this.” He sighed. You watched as he shifted awkwardly into the couch, desperately trying to hide his front from you. Why would he- oh. OH!

“Bloody hell!” You stood up, your fit of laughter returning immediately. “Did I give you a bo-”

“I SAID DON’T TALK ABOUT IT!”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing once more, dropping on the ground with hysterics. He pushed himself off the couch and marched himself to a room, coming back with a few wads of cash.

“Take it and go. I’ll even give you extra for your silence.” He shoved the money into your hands without looking at you. You giggled, despite your best efforts to hold it in. You settled for a cheeky grin when he shot you a dirty look. “Can you go already?”

“Right, fine.” You started to walk away. But, oh what the hell.

You couldn’t help but turn back with a smile, blowing a kiss in his direction.

“Thank you, da-.”

“OH, PISS OFF!”

-

Tomorrow would be the heist you had been preparing for. Everything was already prepared and gone over a billion times. You could recite every detail of the plan word-by-word without an error. And since everything was ready, Billy had given you the day off. A possible ‘last day’, he had said.

“The day before a heist, I’d do something I’ve always wanted to do but never did.” You remembered him saying. “I’d have that ‘last day’, you know, in case something goes wrong, or I get caught by the pigs the next day.”

It was your first day to yourself in weeks, you could do anything! You could have slept in. You could have gone out. You could have had that ‘last day’ Billy was talking about.

But instead you were where you’d been for the last month. You didn’t know what brought you here. You had no legitimate reason to be here. You stared at Billy’s front door, unsure whether you should knock or not.

“Christ.” You mumbled to yourself. “What am I doing?”

Just as you were about to turn and leave, the doorknob twisted open and out stepped Billy. The car keys in his hands jingled when he hastily put on his coat, still not noticing you standing there.

Oh well, too late now. You cleared your throat.

“Heading somewhere, then?”

Billy jumped and whipped his head to you. “(Y/N)!” He proceeded to stutter, the words coming out of his mouth barely intelligible. He looked like a deer in headlights, caught off guard. “What are you doing here? We uh… had the day off.”

I gave him a look that mirrored his own- deer in headlights. “Well I just … I um.” You adjusted the strip of your bag uncomfortably. You could feel his piercing green eyes on you.

“I had questions about the plan?” You looked up to see him confused. Yeah, you weren’t convinced yourself, either. “But I can see that you’re going out so I’ll just… go?”

“Wait no.” He gripped you by your wrist. “I was actually going to see…”

He trailed off when you looked at him. He put his hands back into his pockets awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I was going to see a movie. Do you want to come?”

“Oh I don’t really fancy a movie right now.” You mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Oh okay.” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “How about coffee? You said you had questions about the plan?”

“Oh I um. I just thought of the answer, so.” You cringed inwardly, unable to bring yourself to look at him. You never really had questions in the first place. “I’ll just go. Wouldn’t want to disrupt your ‘last day’, right?”

You had only made it to the sidewalk when he called out your name. You left out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“How about a ride back to your place then?”

You spun around and were met with a small smile. Billy fiddled with his car keys, expecting your answer.

“Alright.” You smiled back.

—

HEIST DAY (yay!)

You stared at yourself in the mirror, smoothing down any wrinkle in your dress, or any stray strand of hair.          

The bright emerald dress was simple yet it had a dash of elegance to it. It had no lace or complicated designs. The silk dress hugged your torso and cascaded down smoothly. The plunging neckline and the slit along the dress brought a teasing element to it, leaving just a right amount to the imagination.

Your hair was tied up, showing off your neck and of course…

“How could I ever forget you?” You picked up the velvet box, admiring the emerald studs Billy gave you. To tell the truth, the only reason you chose this dress was because of the earrings. They matched perfectly.

You smirked as you put them on. It didn’t hurt that the dress matched Billy’s eyes too.

Just when you were finishing up on your makeup, there was a knock at your door. Right on time. As you made your way, you impulsively smoothed down your dress.

God, why were you such an anxious mess? This wasn’t senior year prom.

You shook off the oncoming jitters and opened the door.

“Hey.”

“HI!”

Your response came out a bit more enthusiastically than you had hope. But to good reason. You discreetly checked him out, head to toe. Impeccably dashing and smart, he pulled off that white tux effortlessly. His hair slightly slicked back and a lazy smile present on his face. You suppressed the butterflies that were fluttering about in your gut.

“You look g-”

“Ready to go, then?” He cut you off, pointing at his watch.

Your face fell. Why do you care what he thinks? You roll your eyes, grabbing your coat before stepping out and locking the door behind you. You don’t care. You don’t care. You don’t ca-

“You look beautiful, (Y/N).”

There it was.

A grin involuntarily made its place on your lips. “Thank you.” You hid your face, saying it nonchalantly as if it wasn’t bothering you for the past minute.

You suddenly hear him laugh. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” Your grin dropped. “Is that why you’re all moody? That I didn’t compliment you?”

You shoved him back, the blush on your face now of embarrassment. “Dickhead.” You muttered, walking hurriedly towards the elevator before he could make another comment.

“No hey (Y/N)-”

“Shh!” You pressed on the down button of the elevator, impatient. You hear him make his way towards you.

“(Y/N), I’m-”

“SHH!” You hushed him louder. You frantically pushed the down button. Come on come on come on.

Ding!

Christ, finally. You step into the elevator, now repeatedly pushing on the ‘close’ button while maintaining direct eye contact with him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” You hear him mutter. He runs towards you, just barely making it in before the doors close. You lean against the banister and glared at him with crossed arms.

“Watch your mouth next time.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, scratching the back of his neck. He made his way beside you, leaning on the banister as well. You chose to stare at your shoes. The two of you stood in silence, only the occasional ding of the elevator cutting in.

It was times like this you wish you had rented a room on the lower levels.

“(Y/N).” You hesitantly turn your head to him, but he points at the elevator doors instead, a silent instruction to look at them.

You see both of your own reflections staring back. He had his head against the wall, but he was without a doubt, looking at your mirrored image.

“See all that?” He pointed at your reflection. “I’d be a fool to not notice how good those earrings look on you.”

You sputter out a laugh, finally filling out the awkward atmosphere. You manage to muster a grin and look into his eyes. “Thanks, my sugar daddy got them for me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “He has nice taste.” You reply with a hearty laugh. “Suppose he paid for those too.” He gestured at your dress and shoes.

“I’d say it’s money well spent.” You mockingly give him a twirl, showing off the dress. “So generous of him.”

“He’s a lucky man.” A playful smile poked at his lips.

And the two of you shared a laugh, glad to diffuse the tension, even if it was just for a while.

But it was short-lived.

The elevator doors finally opened with a final ding! And it rang like a bell to bring you back down to earth. To remind you there was a necklace made out of £5,000,000 waiting for you.

The two of you regained your composure, stepping out of the elevator. Your heads turn towards the sleek BMW that Billy rented just fort the occasion.

Beside you, Billy takes out the car keys. “Well let’s get to it then.”

A/N: I hope that didn’t suck, for any of ya’ll who made it to the end. Also would anyone read a Bucky Barnes fic if I wrote one.

[let-it-raines]

CS JJ Day 13: The Spectacular Ms. Swan (1/1)

1959. New York City.

Women aren’t supposed to have their own voices and opinions, and they certainly aren’t supposed to be funny. Emma Swan, however, has a lot of opinions and is damn funny. She also doesn’t care what anyone thinks. 

Except maybe Killian Jones, a comic who has been her supporter since the day she bailed him out of jail after one of his comedy routines. 

Rating: Teen (language mostly)

a/n: I wrote this one-shot last month after watching the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and told @shireness-says that I was determined to get it finished before my baby showed up, and she said that baby girl would probably show up early out of spite. She didn’t and @shireness-says doesn’t get bragging powers about being prophetic or something. ❤️

Thanks to the admin at @csjanuaryjoy for keeping this GREAT event running!

Found on AO3 | Here |

-/-

It started on accident.

Really, most things in her life do.

There was the getting pregnant at seventeen and then having to get married because it was 1952 and all sins could be forgiven if she was married to the man she slept with.

“He’s a good man,” her mother had said. “A wealthy man. You’ll never have to work a day in your life. Think about the child. Think about your reputation.”

Then there was being a mother and learning that she actually liked it even if she did have things she wanted to do with her life beside spend her days cooking and cleaning and reading every book in existence to Henry until she had to begin making up her own stories to fuel her son’s seemingly never-ending creativity and imagination.

There’s nothing and no one in the world who Emma loves more than Henry, and that will never change.

But he certainly wasn’t in her plan.

Neither was actually falling in love with Neal or enjoying their life together, at least for the first few years. Because, well, he wanted her to be a housewife who always wore heels and measured her waist and her thighs every day to ensure she didn’t gain weight, and Emma much preferred wearing flat shoes and eating a hot dog at a Yankees game instead of a salad at home or some overpriced restaurant. So, of course, like any man who had a wife who didn’t fit into his carefully drawn out lines, Neal wandered away with woman after woman and always came back…to his secretary.

Emma saw them in her bed in the middle of the day, and as much as she had turned a blind eye in the past, she couldn’t do that anymore. She didn’t say anything that day. What she did, instead, was drop Henry off at her parents’ apartment, go to the Rabbit Hole downtown, get drunk off her ass, and then get on stage and tell a room full of strangers the very intimate details of her life.

They laughed.

And laughed and laughed, and a woman sitting in the back of the room came up to Emma with a business card in hand and said to call her tomorrow when she was the slightest bit more sober because she thought Emma had a career in comedy.

So Emma called.

And now, three years later her son is seven, she’s divorced (thank goodness, she thinks, even if her mother is still disappointed in her), and Emma is traveling around the United States as the opening comedic act for the singer Sky Manhattan, which might be the most ridiculous stage name Emma has ever heard.

But she doesn’t care. Not at all. She doesn’t care about stage names or what kind of airplane or train she’s traveling on. She doesn’t care if she’s wearing the newest brand of shoes (she is) or the most on trend dresses (she’s got those too) with a fabulous collection of hats. All she cares about is that she has this thing that’s hers and hers alone. No one can take it from her or threaten to take her to court over it (well, actually they can, but not if she watches her language while on stage) and it’s hers. It’s not because of her parents or her shitty ex-husband who dumped his secretary for a woman who works at the Revlon counter or anyone else.

It’s because she’s damn funny, and she’s accidentally made a career of it.

She’s not making much money and still can’t afford her own place, but it’s a start. Who cares what anyone else thinks?

Oh, she cares about Henry. That’s the one thing she cares about most of all, and if he asked her to give it all up, she would. He’s the only one she’d do that for, and he’s also the only one who wouldn’t ask. Her mother thinks this is worse than getting pregnant out of wedlock, her father happened to walk into a show where she made a joke about her parents’ sex life, and the both of them have repeatedly asked her why she’s doing this and to stop doing this.

Now, they support her, but they also don’t understand. They both come from wealthy families, her mother the heiress to an oil fortune and her father a lawyer, and they’ve never understood why she’d want to go up on stage and tell crude jokes for a living.

(They’re not all crude, but it does happen sometimes. Okay, most of the time. It depends on the venue. But she’s gotten smart about that because jail is not something that appeals to her.)

But this is what she does, and when she’s finished touring, she’s going to fly back to New York, settle into her parent’s five-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, and spend all of the time that she can with her son. Neal never wants to watch him anyway despite his custody threats, so Henry’s always with her parents when she’s gone.

(“It’s not the man’s job to watch his child,” Neal says. “I’ll take him for a beer when he’s old enough.”)

The only bad thing about her job is leaving Henry, but they talk on the phone every night. She’s doing this so she can be happy, like she wants him to be happy when he gets older and is chasing his own dreams, and so maybe one day she can have a little something for herself that she didn’t have handed to her.

“Emma,” Ruby yells out, “be ready in five minutes. And remember today is a clean show, and what’s our number one rule for clean shows?”

“Don’t say ‘fuck.’”

“And our second rule?”

“Don’t say ‘fuck.’”

“You’re a genius, darling,” Ruby sighs, blowing Emma a kiss before walking out of the room with her heels clacking behind her. “And I’m the best manager on the planet.”

That quip was for Sky’s manager to hear, and Emma has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Whale will kill her if she laughs at that. Or cut her set time in half. Emma would prefer neither, but she guesses dying won’t really be that bad.

-/-

She only says fuck once during her set, it’s a complete accident, and only two people walked out of the restaurant.

Emma would call that a success.

-/-

“With olives please,” Emma tells the bartender, holding up two fingers.

“You know, you can simply order a bowl of olives, and they’ll bring it to you.”

A smile creeps up on Emma’s face, and she swivels in her chair at the sound of a familiar and far too cheeky British accent. “Killian Jones, as I live and breathe.”

“Emma Swan, as I breathe to live.”

“Oof, not one of your best jokes.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.” He leans in to press his lips against her cheek, one side and then the other. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“At a bar in a hotel in Miami? The better question is what are you doing here?”

Killian scoffs and settles down on the barstool next to her, shrugging his suit jacket off and handing it to her. When she raises her brow, he nods down at her lack of sleeves on her dress and all of her pebbled goosebumps. “You’re chilled, and I don’t think your boy will take it well if you freeze to death on my watch.”

“It’s Florida in May. I’m not going to freeze to death. But aren’t you a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman.” He turns away from her quickly and holds up a finger to get the bartender’s attention. “Can you get me a glass of whatever your best rum is and a bowl of olives? And put her drinks on my tab.”

“You are not paying, Jones.”

“I am paying. It’s not often that I see my favorite comedian.”

“You’re full of shit if you say I’m your favorite comedian.”

“Well, if we’re being technical, I’m my own favorite comedian, but I felt that was a little too much to say. I’m trying to be less of an asshole.”

Emma leans her head back and laughs before tugging Killian’s suit jacket around her shoulders. This bar is cold, probably to combat the sweltering heat outside, but she’d never admit that to him.

“I don’t think you can be less of an asshole. Being an asshole is who you are.” The bartender puts their drinks and a bowl of olives in front of them, and Emma immediately pulls the olives off the toothpick in her martini. “I’m the opening act for Sky Manhattan. That’s why I’m here. We’re on tour.”

“What kind of name is Sky Manhattan?”

“It’s his stage name.”

“Fucking dumb stage name.”

“You’re so eloquent with words.”

Killian winks. “That’s why they pay me to talk on television.”

“They pay you to talk on television because you’re funny and you look like a man in every catalog on the shelf at Bergdorf.”

“You flatter me.”

“I try. I want your ego to become so big that your head explodes and you can no longer pop up in random places.” She takes another sip of her drink and leans over to gently push his shoulder. “Seriously. What are you doing in Florida? You live in Manhattan in a fancy apartment.”

“Says the trust fund baby who lives with her parents in their fancy apartment.”

“Hey.”

Killian holds his hands up in mock apology all the while his grin reaches from ear to ear so that his eyes crinkle and the blue of his eyes shines under the dim light of the bar. “I’m working on a show here. It’s only temporary. My contract is up at the end of June, and I’ve had this lovely place to call home for a month already.”

“You’re staying here?”

“Aye.”

“In the land of pastels and peppy waitstaff? Where the bathrooms are pink?”

“It’s a nice change of pace, and since I’m not paying for it, I don’t give a damn.”

“That’s more like you,” Emma laughs, twisting a little further on her stool and leaning into his space. “I’m going to be here for two weeks. Why don’t you come to a show? I think you’ll really like my routine and the guy singing after me is pretty good too.”

“Is that all you have to convince me?”

Her heart picks up its pace as Killian’s hand brushes over her thigh, a light and fleeting touch. “I can get you a free drink and all of the shrimp cocktails you want.”

“I was going to say no, but the shrimp cocktails really do it for me.” He leans in, closer now, and Emma very nearly closes her eyes in anticipation. Of what? She knows, but she won’t even let her mind go there. “I have to run to work. Why don’t you meet me here Saturday night? I’ll take you to dinner and show.”

“I’m working Saturday night.”

“We’ll go after.”

And with that, Killian Jones is throwing cash onto the bar top for a tip and then walking away, leaving his jacket with her.

Damn, she missed him.

-/-

“How was your last day of school, kid?”

“We had cupcakes, and I had two.”

“Two?”

“I wanted three, but Mrs. Horowitz wouldn’t let me have another one.”

“I bet she didn’t want you to spoil your dinner.”

“Cupcakes could have been dinner.”

Emma laughs and stands from her bed, pulling the cord on her phone with her. “Cupcakes are not dinner. Has Grandpa been feeding you cupcakes for dinner?”

“Nope. But he does give me chocolate.”

“Ah, of course he does. I’m going to be home to see you next week before we go to the Catskills for a few days and then I go to Vegas. Are you excited?” There’s no answer on the other end of the line, just a bit of static. “Henry? Kid? Kid?”

“His friend Avery is here, Mrs. Cassidy,” Ashely says over the phone. “He went to play.”

“It’s Swan, Ashley,” Emma huffs. She doesn’t want to snap at Ashely because she’s a sweet girl and helps with Henry far more than she should as her parents’ housekeeper. “Neal and I are divorced, and I changed my last name to my middle name.”

“I have to go, Mrs. Cassidy,” Ashely mumbles. “The boys are climbing on your father’s bookshelves.”

At that, there’s no one on the other end of the line, and Emma doesn’t get the chance to speak to her parents or tell Henry she loves him.

This is her life.

-/-

“Ruby Lucas, I am not going on a date with someone you met today.”

“Why not? He’s from New York, is here on a trip, and he’s cute. I think it could be a good match, and it’s been so long since you dated, which is different than sex, mind you.” “I’ve been divorced for two years and on the road for most of that. I don’t think many men want to date a divorced mother who is a stand-up comedian. Half of them think I’m a witch.”

“That’s because men are idiots.” “And yet you want me to date one?”

“One date,” Ruby sighs, slipping on her heels and smoothing out her skirt. “He’s got money, and he knows people who can sponsor you. Think of it as a business dinner and not a date.” “Well, I can do business dinners, but I can’t tonight. I’ve got plans after the show.”

“The dinner is before the show. What the hell do you have going on after the show? I don’t have anything booked for you.”

Emma turns from Ruby and fixes her blouse, tucking it in before raising her finger and brushing away the red lipstick that’s strayed to her skin. “Killian Jones is in town. He’s taking me to dinner.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

“Well, if you’d told me the man you were sleeping with was in town, I would have changed the date of your dinner with Walsh despite me thinking you need to go on more actual dates and not just sexual rendezvous.”

“I am not sleeping with Killian.” “Please. You can lie to me about a lot of things, but I know when you’re fucking someone.”

“I have never slept with him.” She turns around so Ruby can see her eyeroll. “He’s a friend. He helps me with my routines when we’re in the same city, and he sends Henry an absolutely useless gift at least three times a year. So we’re going to dinner to catch up, and maybe I’ll get some new material for you.”

“I wouldn’t care about new material if you’d fuck Jones.”

“I’m going to fire you as my manager.”

“Never, darling. Now, tits up. You’re meeting Walsh Osbourne in the bar at six. Sweet talk him until you get a meeting for some commercial auditions.”

“I’m doing this for commercial auditions?” “We’re doing this to get our foot in the door for television. You can’t hop straight to one of the variety shows your lover Jones is on.”

“I will stab you with my heel.”

-/-

“Yeah, my son is really into baseball. I got him some tickets to the batting cage and a new bat for Christmas. He – ”

“You’re not funny,” Walsh mumbles after interrupting her in the middle of her answer to his question about what her son is interested in. “I thought you were supposed to be funny. What’s the point of dating you if you’re not funny? I knew women couldn’t be comedians and that you were just a nice piece of ass and a good pair of tits.”

It takes two seconds for Emma to pick up her glass of wine and slosh it across the table at Walsh. She’s been sitting at this table for fifteen minutes, and she doesn’t plan on sitting here any longer.

“Fuck you.”

“You’re also apparently a bitch,” Walsh spits out as she stands. “I have connections, and you can say goodbye to all of them.”

“I don’t need the connections of a sexist pig who doesn’t think women are capable of being funny. I can guarantee you, Mr. Osbourne, that we are, and if you take offense to women not laughing at your jokes or not telling their own jokes all the time, maybe you should look in the mirror and figure out that you’re the one who couldn’t tell a joke to save his life.” “Fuck you. I hope your performance is a failure tonight.” “It’ll certainly be better than yours.”

-/-

She kills it in her set. She’s fucking spectacular and funny, and everyone who thinks otherwise can screw themselves.

Everyone who thinks she has to spend her days only being funny and coming up with jokes can screw themselves as well.

-/-

She sees Killian slip out right before she closes and introduces Sky.

-/-

“Was I funny?” Emma asks, tugging Killian’s suit jacket around her shoulders. She was going to give it back to him tonight, but it’s chilly again. Plus, he’s wearing a different fitted black suit tonight, and he doesn’t need it back right now.

“Pardon?” “How’d you like my set? I know you were watching.” “Was I?” he ponders, tapping his finger against his lips. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re being an ass, and you said you were trying to stop that.”

His brows move across his forehead, that same cheeky smile still on his lips. “I may have been there.”

“And what’d you think?”

“Buy me dinner first, and then I’ll tell you.”

They go to a restaurant that doesn’t seem to believe in white-colored light bulbs or volume limits, and Emma loves it. A band is constantly playing, dancers moving around the floor, and the steak she has is quite possibly the best steak she’s ever had.

Killian Jones has always known how to plan an evening and pick out a restaurant.

“Shall we dance?” he questions as Emma leans back into her chair, absolutely full even if she feels lighter than she has in quite some time.

“What?”

“Dance with me, Swan.”

“I don’t dance.”

Killian stands and holds his hand out for her, blue eyes sparkling even under all of the colored lights. “All you need is a partner who knows what he’s doing.” “And you do?”

“Of course, love. I’m an expert in…movements.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she takes his hand anyway and melts into the warmth of him as his fingers curl around her palm. “That wasn’t your best work. You’re slacking lately.”

If he responds, she has no idea. The music is too loud already, and it gets louder when they move closer to the band. The songs have been fast and upbeat all night, and yet the moment they start to dance, it changes into something soft, slow. It’s probably for the best. Emma really doesn’t know how to dance (or sing) despite everything asking her why she isn’t a dancer when she tells them she’s a comedian, and she’s pretty much got two left feet out here. So she places one hand more firmly in Killian’s, another around his neck, and they sway back and forth.

It’s not proper how close they are, body pressed tightly against body, but she’s never cared for proper.

She’s never cared for rules and expectations, and while that stung when Neal told her that was one of the reasons he strayed from their marriage, she knows that nothing he says is anything she should listen to.

It’s okay if he strays from the conventional path sleeping with her without them being married and going off and fucking his secretary, but the moment she doesn’t want to cook a ham every night, she’s the one who’s too wild.

He never thought she was funny either. That should have been the first sign.

“I’ve been thinking, love.” “I never like when you do that.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

Killian hums and turns them in a circle, his hand sliding lower on her back. “What were you thinking, Jones?”

“You’ve made comments about my jokes being off, and I don’t know…I suppose I don’t feel the need to be funny around you, and it’s nice. There’s not all that – ”

“Pressure? Expectation? The need to always be thinking two steps ahead?”

“Exactly. As much as I like bantering with you and coming up with new material, I like that I can talk about whatever the hell I want without worrying that I’m being too boring.”

Emma looks up at him and sees his soft smile and blue eyes she finds more charming by the minute. “I like that I don’t have to be funny with you, too.”

“Good.”

-/-

“So, quite the nice night.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s five in the morning.”

“Ah, well,” Killian sighs, waving his hand out to the ocean and the few boats moving over it. The sun isn’t rising, not quite yet, and she can still see the stars twinkling in the sky. “We haven’t gone to bed yet, so I still consider it night.” “Well, if you consider it to be night, how can I deny that?”

“You can’t. Where’s your room?”

“Fifth floor. Where’s yours?”

“Seventh.”

They walk in companionable silence until they find the outdoor staircase that leads to their rooms. Emma’s heels are in her hand, have been for the past few hours, but her feet still ache. She should have changed into her flats after the show, but she didn’t stop to think before heading to meet Killian at the bar. Suddenly, they’re standing on the fifth floor, two doors down from her room, and then they’re there standing on either side of her hotel door.

Killian blinks, and Emma blinks back, not sure whether to speak or to search for her keys. She might be too tired to think coherent thoughts. She also might not want this night to end. It’s the first time in a long time where she hasn’t spent hours trying to impress someone, and if she goes to bed, that’ll be over.

(She doesn’t want it to be over.)

(She wants just this one thing, this one night.)

“You’re staring.” “So are you.”

“Well, I do have a particularly pretty face, love.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, leaning against the wall and closer to Killian. “Are you going to tell me what you thought of my act now?”

Leaning closer, Killian brushes his hand over her forearm and up her shoulder until he’s tucking her hair behind her ear. A shiver runs down her spine, working its way into her bones, and her skin pebbles. “You were fucking spectacular, Ms. Swan.”

Emma’s cheek blush, and since she can’t look into the ridiculous blue of Killian’s eyes, she digs for her keys in her clutch and pulls it out, sticking it into the lock. The door swings open, the bed immediately in sight, and Emma feels Killian’s intake of breath. She also feels him stepping away.

It’d be so easy to ask him to come inside and ask him to unzip her dress and untie his tie until they’re both undressed and panting against each other, but it’s also just as easy to step inside without him, right?

Right.

(Maybe not just this one thing on this one night.)

“Goodnight, love,” Killian tells her. “I’ll ring you when I’m back in New York.”

“Henry and I will both be waiting.”

-/-

Neal calls her when she’s in Las Vegas two weeks later to tell her that she’s a horrible mother.

He’s seen his son once (for an hour) in the past month, and he lives ten minutes from him.

Emma has seen Henry three times, one of which was for four days in the Catskills, and she’s traveling the country on tour.

She is not a horrible mother, and she will not let Neal’s voice get in her head. Not anymore.

One more month of this, and then she’s home for two months before they go to Europe for the rest of the tour. She can do two weeks in Las Vegas and two more in Palm Springs.

She can.

-/-

Killian sends her a postcard from New York in the beginning of July.

I’m back in New York. Your boy has already convinced me to take him to a Yankees game. I’m sure we’ll be on our fourth visit by the time you get this.

I promise I’ll try not to corrupt him while you’re gone.

Killian’s an asshole.

But a good asshole.

(And maybe he’s not really an asshole at all.)

-/-

“Ah, that sweet smell of urine and concrete,” Ruby sighs as their taxi pulls in front of Emma’s apartment building. “I’ve missed you.”

“There’s been urine and concrete in all of the places we’ve been.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I know, I know.” Emma leans over and kisses Ruby’s cheeks. “It’s been fun, my friend, but I don’t want to see your face for at least a week, okay?”

“I don’t want to see your face for two weeks.”

“Then we have an agreement.”

Emma laughs as she exists the car and motions for the doormen to come and get her bags. She definitely has far too many of them for as much as she doesn’t care about clothes, hers seem to keep expanding. She takes one suitcase and a hatbox and quickly walks into the building and to the elevator, and the operator hits the button for her floor. She’s bouncing with excitement, her feet nearly coming out of her shoes, and she’s so close to Henry she might buzz right out of her skin.

“Mom,” he yells when she opens the apartment door. Emma drops her bag and her box and bends down until Henry is running into her arms. “You’re home.”

“Yeah, kid,” she whispers, cupping the back of his head. “I’m home.”

-/-

“My mother wants me to meet a man.”

“Excuse me?”

Emma brushes past Killian into his apartment, and she lets out the low whistle she always lets out every time she’s here. Whereas her apartment is filled with antiques and furniture that can’t be sat on (thanks Mom and Dad), Killian’s apartment is sleek and modern. It’s all clean lines and black and white decorations with little pops of blue. It’s a man’s apartment, and she’s always loved it.

Plus, the view of the Hudson is spectacular.

“I never wanted to be a woman whose entire life revolved around cooking, cleaning, and waiting for their husband to get home to not acknowledge any of that,” Emma rants, kicking off her shoes and immediately walking to his liquor cabinet. She can’t reach the shelf with all of his good stuff, but there’s a cheap bottle of rum just within her reach. “My mom seems to think that I need a husband to rein me in from my ‘rebellious’ phase.”

“You had a husband. You hated being married.”

“I didn’t hate being married. I hated being married to him.” “Ah.” “What?”

“Well, there’s a difference?”

“Yes, there’s a difference! I imagine being married doesn’t suck if you like the person you’re married to and if he doesn’t sleep with every woman he meets.” She pours both she and Killian a tumbler of rum and hands him his glass. He eyes her but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tilts the glass to his lips and takes a large gulp. “I just…I don’t know why my mom thinks it’s imperative for me to get married again.”

She walks over the couch and curls her legs underneath her while Killian sits in on the other side, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

Killian clicks his tongue again, and she’s never noticed how much ginger is in his beard before now. “Well, you’re basically an old maid.”

Emma kicks her foot out at him. “You’re the worst.”

His lips curl into a smirk. “I am undeniably the greatest. And look, your mum is old-fashioned. She doesn’t get why you wouldn’t want to marry just anyone or why you want to spend your days traveling around the world making dick jokes. The one about his dick being so big it was a Richard was inspired, by the way, even if I did know that it was inspired by me.”

“I will stain your white rug with my drink.”

“I’ve got a very nice woman named Greta who knows just how to get that out.”

“Who knew being crude on late night television paid so well as to have a Greta?”

“You did, Swan,” he laughs, taking another sip of his drink before placing it on a coaster. “But back to your mother.” Emma rolls her eyes, but Killian pays her no attention. “She thinks the way to happiness is being married to a nice man and having him provide for you. You have to let her know that you don’t want another Neal or someone you’re only with because it’s proper. You want someone who you love and who lights that fire in your soul that you don’t want to be put out.”

“Someone who I don’t feel the need to be funny around.”

“Yeah,” Killian says slowly, a red blush dusting his cheeks, “someone who you don’t feel the need to be funny with, someone you don’t have to put on an act around.”

There’s always been something about Killian Jones that has unsettled her and yet made her feel comfortable. The night they met she had to bail him out of jail because one of his performances was deemed too crude by the police presence in the bar, and they’ve been circling around each other ever since. He’s wormed his way into her life, and she never really noticed. It’s been in short conversations and trading jokes at a bar, but then it was getting together for dinner and him taking Henry to Yankees games. It was dancing in clubs and almost, almost, almost asking him to come into her hotel room.

It was having him know her better than anyone else knows her.

Slowly, Emma rises from her spot on the couch and walks over to Killian, pressing down and placing her knees on either side of his thighs before she raises her hand and thumbs at the scar on his cheek while her other hand brushes his hair back. Killian blinks up at her, his mouth no longer smirking. Instead, he’s softly smiling at her, and Emma feels a long-forgotten flurry in her stomach.

“Emma – ” She leans forward until her forehead presses against his and until her nose is nudging against his. Killian’s hands are warm against her waist, and she feels it all the way down to her bones, seeping deep within her. “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”

“Being with someone I want to be with, someone who I don’t have to put on an act with.”

His lips are soft and gentle, a fluttering of a movement against her own, and it’s the exact opposite of what she thought kissing Killian would be like. She thought, if anything, they’d be drunk and stumbling across the room, clothes falling to the ground and lips not marking their intended target. She thought her mind would be too fuzzy to think.

That’s not at all what’s happening.

All she can think about is how much she’s wanted this, even if she didn’t realize it but in fleeting moments after nights of alcohol, and how natural it feels to have his scruff burn her chin and to have his lips caress hers.

This is good.

This is a fire she would never want to put out.

“You’re not going to regret that and talk about it in your act, are you?” Killian chuckles while kissing the corner of her cheek and then her jaw, his lips like magic.

“Regret it? No. Put it in my act? Absolutely. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it funny, though,” she sighs, pressing herself further into him, “because there’s nothing funny about this.”

“No, love, I don’t think there is.”

-/-

She wakes up the next morning to Killian kissing her bare skin and whispering words to her that have chills running down her spine.

They go to a Yankees game with Henry, and Killian buys far too much ice cream, not that Henry would complain. Not the Emma would either. She’s too damn happy for any of that.

And he doesn’t judge her for eating a hot dog.

-/-

All Killian wants for Emma is to be happy and live life how she’s always dreamed of living her life, not by whatever standards are expected for her.

Oh, and to keep on being the spectacular Ms. Swan.

(It’s Mrs. Jones now, but the stage name of Ms. Swan has a nice ring to it.)

(She keeps on being damn funny.)

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @csjanuaryjoy​ @stahlop @shardminds @carpedzem @captainsjedi  @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious (because we talked about it yesterday...let Lenny live 😉)