#so i can come back to the office for my lunch hour

[kissandtellus]

Flight Plan

Synopsis: You visited Caleb in the Hangar and uncover a bittersweet secret.

Warnings: Barely any mention of fun time, Fluff, Painful memories/angst, happy ending.

Authors note: The new Spring card has me acting up. I think this is my first angsty/cute story.

Y/n was a caring partner. She found her way walking through the air fleet base. Many officers knew who she was.

Colonel Caleb’s girlfriend.

Y/n sighed when she saw her boyfriend rolled up under a fighter jet, no doubt tinkering with the massive machine.

Noticing her presence, he slid out from under the jet, wiping grease from his hands onto a rag. His trademark smirk appeared as he stood up. "Well look who decided to grace the hangar..."He immediately closed the distance between you, pulling her into a casual hug so he didn’t smear grease on her pretty jacket. “Missed you, sweetheart."

He pressed a kiss to your temple before releasing you, his gaze lingering on her face. "What are you doing here, huh? Thought you'd be busy fighting Wanderers."He teased. Caleb bent back under the jet, his voice muffled.

Y/n pouted and sat the lunch she had brought on his work table. “Caleb, you were supposed to come home for lunch.”

He slid back out from under the jet, a guilty smile on his face. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He picked up the lunch she brought, opening it to reveal a sandwich and some chips. "You know I get lost in this stuff." He gestured to the jet with a greasy hand.

Y/n gave a small grin. “I guess I can forgive you. Besides, you look good with some grease on you.” She teases, wiping some grease from his cheek.

He chuckled, leaning into her touch. "You always did have a weird thing for greasy mechanics." He teased back, wrapping an arm around her waist as he sat beside her on the small stool beside his worktable. "You really came all the way here to feed me?"

He unwrapped the sandwich and took a big bite, groaning dramatically. "Mmm, you're a goddess, you know that?" He swallowed and continued, "I swear, your cooking is the only thing that gets me through these long days."

Y/n smiles and looks around the Hagar that has cleared out now, many soldiers going how to their families.

But here their Colonel was, slaving away at a fighter jet.

“So tell me about the ‘other woman’ you have here.” Odette teases, patting the aircraft.

He laughed, finishing his sandwich before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Aw, jealous now?" He teased, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "This beauty right here is my only girl." He patted the jet affectionately. "She's high maintenance though, always demanding my attention."

He stood up, grabbing a wrench to demonstrate his point. "She breaks down, I fix her. She needs a wash, I scrub her down. She needs fuel, I fill her up." He grinned mischievously, "You see why she's my favorite, huh?"

Y/n crosses her arms over her chest. “Did you give her a name? What makes her better than me?” Y/n gives a fake pout.

He laughed heartily, stepping closer to you. "Of course I gave her a name, sweetheart. She's 'Vixen'." He leaned against the jet, crossing his arms over his chest to mimic your posture. "And as for what makes her better than you..."

He paused, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, for starters, Vixen never complains when I spend hours working on her. She doesn't get jealous when I'm away on missions. And she sure as hell doesn't ask me to choose between her and my girl."

“Well then, I guess Vixen here can suck you off too…” Y/n mumbles under her breath.

He chuckled, pushing off the jet to step closer to you. "You think so? You think Vixen could make me forget about you entirely?" He challenged, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he suppressed a laugh. "You think Vixen could keep me warm at night?"

Y/n pouts and looks at the rolling mechanism Caleb had been using to look under the jet. “I always see these in movies. Does it actually help?”

He glanced over at the rolling mechanism, nodding. "Yeah, it helps a lot. I can crawl under the jet and inspect the undercarriage, check the brakes, alignment, all that good stuff." He bent down and grabbed the handle, starting to roll it out. "Want to see something cool?"

Before she could respond, he pushed the rolling platform under the jet and climbed onto it, lying down on his back. He then began to pull himself underneath the massive machine, disappearing from view. His muffled voice echoed out from beneath the jet, "Come here for a sec..."

His voice was slightly muffled as he called out to her from under the jet. "I wanna show you something, but you gotta get down here." He paused, shifting around underneath the heavy aircraft. "Just lie on your back next to the platform and look up. You'll see what I mean."

Y/n wrinkles her nose at the grease and dirt, but lays next Caleb on the tray.

He chuckled softly, his voice echoing slightly from under the jet. "See, this is why I love working on her. It's like a whole other world down here." He shifted a bit to make more room for you. "Look up at the belly of the jet. See those panels?"

"Those panels cover the landing gear and some of the hydraulic systems. But if you look closely, you can see where they've been patched up before. Old battle damage." He paused, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "This jet has seen some shit, Y/n."

Y/n takes a sharp breath. “And so have you. Vixen is your jet, it means she’s seen just as much wounds as you have.”

He nodded slightly, the metallic echo of the jet filling the brief silence. "Yeah... that's exactly right." His voice grew quieter, more personal. "Every scratch on her is like a memory of something I've been through. Every repair I've done is me saying 'I survived that round'."

He reached out from under the jet, his hand brushing against your arm as he pointed up at a specific panel. "See that one there? That's from my first real dogfight. I got shot up pretty bad, but Vixen brought me home."

Caleb moves his finger to a deep gash. “…and that one over there," he continued, shifting to point at another panel, "that's from a mission gone wrong in Deepspace. We got ambushed, but I managed to land us safely." He fell silent for a moment, his hand still resting on your arm.

Y/n turns her head and looks at Caleb, reaching out to stroke his cheek. He looked more natural like this, not in his stuff Spacefleet uniform. In just a dirty white tanktop and jeans. “I’m glad Vixen brings you back to me.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening as your hand made contact with his cheek. In this moment, he almost seemed like a different person - less tough, more vulnerable. "She brings me back to you... and to myself," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the jet.

Caleb closed his eyes briefly as your fingers traced his cheekbone, a small smile tugging at his lips. Without thinking, he turned his head slightly to press a gentle kiss to her palm. It was an instinctive gesture, one born out of the comfort and familiarity of Y/n’s touch in this familiar environment.

“Most people, they see this jet and see just a machine." He spoke softly, his eyes still closed as her fingers traced patterns on his cheek. "But you see it for what it really is - a piece of me. A piece I almost lost more than once."

Y/n smiles and looks back up at the bottom of the jet. “I guess I can share you with her. Just for a little while.”

His smile widened at your words, and he opened his eyes to look at her. "She's a jealous mistress, you know. Always demanding my attention." He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on your face. "But she knows when to share."

Caleb rolls the two of them back out from under the jet. Clicking some buttons on the control panel, the glass lid on top of the fighter jet pops open.

"Come up here a minute," he said softly, his voice carrying a slight teasing lilt as he climbed out. He dusted off his hands on his jeans, then extended one to help her up. "Vixen doesn't get jealous of everything," he added, a playful smirk crossing his face.

Y/n found herself pulled up into the cockpit, sitting in the pilot's seat as Caleb climbed up, leaning over the side. He clicked a few more buttons, and the cockpit lit up with the familiar hum of the jet's systems coming online. "She likes you sitting here.”

Y/n smiles, but then a little photo catches her eye. It’s one she forget existed. A Polaroid of her in nothing but a lingerie set Caleb had her wear for his birthday. She’s bent over, splayed out as she looks but at the camera with a cockdrunk grin. “Caleb! Why do you have this here?!”

He chuckled mischievously, leaning over to look at the Polaroid she’d found tucked away in the control panel. "Because it's my favorite picture of you," he said unapologetically, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he remembered that birthday.

“You were so drunk from my cock that night you didn't even remember posing for it," he reminisced, his thumb brushing over the image. "God, you looked... edible." He glanced at you, his expression turning playful. "Want me to tell you what I did with this picture after?"

"I made it my phone wallpaper," he confessed, his grin widening mischievously. "And my laptop background. And I might have printed a few copies to keep in my wallet and my helmet too..." He laughed, grabbing his flight helmet and flipped it over to show the photo printed off and tucked in the foam.

Y/n stutters and peels the photo away from the control panel. Behind it, a sweet note was written on the back.

"For when you’re alone at night and can't sleep," the note read in her messy, familiar handwriting. "To remind you there's something soft and sexy waiting for you at home. - Y/n." He watched her expression closely, knowing there were more hidden notes like this scattered around the jet.

"You left love notes everywhere," he said softly, reaching out to turn the photo over in your hands. "In the bathroom, in the bedroom, under the seats... even in the glove compartment." He paused, his voice gentle. "I think my favorite was the one in my underwear drawer."

Y/n softly gasps. “You keep all of them…?” Her eyes drift around the cock pit. Multiple little crinkled notes she had written for him at home decorated the area.

A reminder for Caleb.

To always come back to her.

He nodded, his expression turning serious. "Every single one," he confirmed, his voice steady. "You have no idea how much they meant to me, especially when we were apart for so long. They were the only thing keeping me sane." He reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently.

She smiles at Caleb, trying to fight back the tears that spring to her eyes at all the times she could’ve lost Caleb again. “Vixen will always bring you back to me, right?”

"Mhmm," he hummed, pulling her hand up to kiss your knuckles softly. "She knows her place. She's my baby, my girl. But you..." He paused, his eyes finding Y/n’s. "You're my future wife. She knows when she needs to bring me back home to you."

Next Part: Bad Ending ->

[theghostiedyke]

.

[cherrygirlfriend]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ office visitations

pairing: wife!reader x ceo!rafe synopsis: wife!reader goes to visit rafe at work for lunch warnings: smut, breeding kink, praise, soft rafe, talk of pregnancy, fluffy ending MDNI - wc: 2k a/n: another old fic! i swear i’m actually gonna post something new, i’m currently preparing some fics for a milestone <3 be patient pls!! fun fact; this was first posted on my birthday!! originally posted 11/15/2024

rafe masterlist ♡

everyone on kildare island wondered how rafe cameron of all men had managed to land you; sure, he was rich and good looking, but in figure 8, that was nothing. but somehow he had, and only after six months of being your boyfriend, he had asked you to marry him; no one knew that he had been looking at rings after your very first date.

you were basically his opposite; the sweet, girl-next-door pogue who no one ever had anything bad to say about, while he was known to lash out at whoever was in the wrong place in the wrong time, but after meeting you, he was obsessed.

rafe was sitting in his office, just having finished up a board meeting, those always stressing him out, paperwork piling on his desk, his cup of coffee having gone cold already.

there was a soft knock on rafe's door, and he rubbed his forehead, letting out a small scoff; he had told his secretary to not let absolutely anyone to come bother him. he looked up at the door, letting out a cold and detached, "come in." knowing that his secretary would be looking for a new job.

but as soon as he saw the familiar pair of eyes playfully peek into his office, it was like all the tension slowly rolled off his shoulders. "hi." you said with a smile that was so bright and sunny rafe was sure it could've melted down an icecap. "can i come in?"

rafe cleared his throat, standing up from his chair, "yeah, of course." the man smiled, running a hand through his mussed-up blonde hair as you stepped into his office. you were wearing a long, flowy sundress, carrying two cups of coffee and a bag of something, "what's this?" your husband asked amusedly, his head nodding toward the bag.

"i brought you some coffee and croissants." you said, placing the things on his desk and turning to him, "i knew you're always stressed after board meetings. i would be too, if i had to sit around with a bunch of old guys for an hour straight listening to their issues with you or whatever you do." you chuckled, straightening the collar of his button-up.

"you know just what i need." he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, tilting his head down so he could nuzzle it into your neck, breathing in the floral scent of your perfume while you let out a small chuckle, your eyes closing as you held him, stroking his back.

he pulled back, looking down at your dress with a small grin, "did you wear this for me?" he asked, feeling the fabric inbetween his fingers, "it looks great."

"thank you. my husband got it for me." you said playfully, giving him your left hand. rafe took hold of it, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before looking at your engagement ring.

"he has great taste. in women, in clothing, and in jewelry."

you laugh softly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes, until rafe took your chin inbetween his pointer finger and his thumb, forcing you to look up at him, the man admiring the way your eyes twinkled, moving his hands to rest on your waist again. "you look so gorgeous."

"and you look very handsome." you said, tugging him down into a kiss, your lips on his immediately causing rafe's head to buzz. rafe's hands slowly slid down to your ass, grabbing at the flesh through your summer dress, pulling you closer while one of your hands was on his chest, and one of your hands was on the back of his neck, short blond hair meeting your soft palms.

you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, keeping your forehead and nose pressed to his, your breaths mingling together while your eyes were closed.

"i missed you..."

"you saw me this morning." rafe mumbled, one of his hands traveling to your cheek, cupping it in his hand while his thumb stroked your soft cheek.

"does that mean i can't miss you?" your brows raised with a chuckle, the hand that had been resting on his chest was now tugging his button-up out of the trousers they were tucked in, rafe letting out a small groan when he felt your warm hand slowly trail up the line of his abs, "you know, i realized something…" you practically purred into his ear.

"yeah? what'd you realize, sweetie?" he asked, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, pressing small kisses on your warm skin, causing shivers to run down your spine, goosebumps starting to form all over your body.

"i'm ovulating." you whispered with a grin, before pulling back to see his reaction. rafe lifted his head, looking at you with half-lidded eyes and a small grin, his hands sliding down to rest on the curve of your ass.

"mmhm, 's that the case?" he asked, he shamelessly looking down at your tits, rafe's adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, your fingers starting to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, revealing more and more of his tanned chest, shivers running down his spine when he felt your manicured nails on the skin that you were slowly baring. "i guess we should take advantage of that, then."

you let out a small squeal when your husband lifted you into his arms without any difficulty, carrying you to the other side of his desk. rafe sat down on his chair, positioning you so that you were straddling him, his calming cerulean eyes gazing up into yours.

your hand moves to the nape of his neck, fingers gently playing with the short tendrils of hair there as you gaze down at him, the hint of a smile playing at your lips. rafe brought his hand closer to your face, his fingers curling under your chin, bringing your face to meet his, the sides of your noses pressed against one another, breaths mingling together before his lips brushed against yours.

and soon, rafe's shirt hung unbuttoned on his broad shoulders, your panties discarded on his desk, your body still mostly covered by your dress, his slacks and boxers at his ankles. the thumb of his left hand brushed against your hardened nipple over the fabric of your dress, a small gasp escaping your lips as your soaked entrance hovered over the tip of his cock, practically aching to sink itself down on him.

"you ready?" rafe whispered under you, pressing a featherlight kiss on your clothed nipple, and somehow even that was enough to make you dizzy; you couldn't speak, simply nodding, his hands slowly crawling up from the sides of your thighs up your dress until they were on your hips, rafe's touch so hot you thought he might leave burn marks. slowly, he started bringing your hips lower, a long drawn-out whimper leaving your lips when you finally felt rafe stretch you out; you'd been together for a long time but every time his cock entered you it felt like the first time.

even though you were the one straddling him, rafe was the one doing all the work. slowly, he lifted you up, before bringing you back down, your head thrown back, lost in all the bliss you were feeling, his lips attaching themselves to your neck, pressing soft kisses on your pulse point as you let out small, soft laughs when you felt his stubble on your skin.

although his lips moved away from your neck, rafe continued moving you on top of him by your hips, briefly bringing one of his hands to cup your cheek, making you look down at him, your eyes hazy and glossed over from the pleasure he was giving you.

"you look so gorgeous like this..." rafe whispered, letting out a grunt as he felt you deliberately clench yourself around him, the corners of your mouth quirking up into an adorable, almost shy smile, your cheeks feeling warmer due to his sweet words.

he moved his hand back to your hips, continuing to guide you up and down on his cock, slightly picking up his pace, whimpers leaving your lips whenever he bottomed out in you, hitting that one spot like it was nothing, when for you, it felt like everything.

"so damn gorgeous..." he mumbled against your skin, and as one of rafe's hands traveled down to your pussy, his thumb starting to draw languid circles on your clit, you started moving your hips just slightly faster, every part of you screaming that you needed more of him, needed to feel every part of him.

"please..." you whined, the tone of your voice making something in rafe's chest ache while also making the heat in his abdomen nearly double.

as his thumb picked up its pace, your head felt so beautifully blank; all you could focus on were the sensations running through your body, the fire he'd lit inside of you, and the orgasm you were already starting to feel approaching.

"please, i'm so close..." you whined, your words getting muddled with your moans.

your eyes were closed, unable to see the way your husband was admiring you, looking up at you with pupils blown so wide his blue eyes might as well have turned into the shape of a heart, and he continued bucking his hips up into you, both of you chasing your orgasms, the sound of squelching and moaning filling his office.

suddenly, he felt your walls spasming around his cock, your orgasm washing over you as you held on tight to his shoulders, your body shuddering with pleasure, moans leaving your lips without you even realizing it was happening.

rafe watched as you came undone, continuing to move inside of you even though your walls felt snug around him, the man starting to feel a familiar tightening in his abdomen.

"'m so close..." rafe mumbled, not even sure if you could hear him through the bubble of bliss you seemed to be encased in. "gonna come in you... gonna put a baby in you... you're gonna look so gorgeous with my baby in you..."

when you let out a soft whimper, trying to move yourself on his cock even though you were still riding out his orgasm, rafe groaned, burying his head in the crook of your neck, loud whines leaving your lips when he fucked into you at a faster pace, rafe almost losing himself in you and the way you felt around him, knowing he'd never get enough of you, never get enough of having you like this.

it didn't take long until he let out a loud groan, and you felt ropes of his cum filling you, moving your hips slightly to make sure he was as deep inside of you as possible, the closeness feeling almost intoxicating.

neither one of you spoke for a while, and the only noise that could be heard in his office were the pants that slowly turned into regular breathing, and finally when it had settled, you pressed your forehead against rafe's, taking a deep breath.

you felt rafe's hand on your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there, and it was like he was reading your thoughts; sometimes the way he knew you intimidated you, just because the thought of ever losing that scared the hell out of you.

"it's gonna happen." he said comfortingly, opening his eyes to look into yours, and you pulled your forehead away from his to do the same. you brought your hand to your abdomen, looking down at it while letting out a small sniffle, your tone laced with insecurity, "you think so?"

rafe pressed his hand over yours, and you wondered how someone could know exactly everything you thought and needed, his large, ringed hand somehow managing to soothe every single thought running through your mind.

"i know so, and i'm never wrong, am i?" he grinned smugly, making you roll your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

[abi-renirk]

Thinking about Wymack putting up with Neil, alone, during his senior year. None of the other foxes are there to deal with his antics. Kevin isn’t there to talk about everything Exy related. Andrew isn’t there to keep him grounded and sane. Allison and Nicky aren’t pushing him out of his comfort zone with his style, appearance, etc. Matt isn’t there to be a friend. Dan can’t help him captain his team. Aaron isn’t there to annoy him. Renee isn’t there with her gentle, reassuring smile.

I know that some of the freshman from the EC become Neil’s friends, but it isn’t the same as the OG Foxes.

So, he turns to one of the few people he trusts, Dad Wymack™️. Neil joins him in his office for lunch and tells him all about Andrew’s most recent Exy game. “Did you see how many saves Andrew made last night?” 38. It was beautiful.” *heart eyes* Coach returns his attention to the paperwork he was working on when Neil walked in. He half listens as the striker explains a movie that Nicky said he needed to watch to understand current trends.

After a game night, Neil goes home with Wymack, who now lives together with Abby, and stays for dinner with the couple, yapping about everything that plagued him that day. “I talked to Andrew last night and he was telling me about this drill his pro team does at practice. He thinks it’s stupid, of course, but I think it could help us get through the other team’s defense easier.” He goes on to explain the drill between bites of pasta and sauce.

When Neil leaves, Coach looks at Abby, feeling slightly dumbfounded, “I never knew the kid could say so many words in such a short time.” Abby lets out a chuckle.

“I don’t get any paperwork finished anymore with him around so much.” He explains with fake annoyance. She gives him a soft smile, “He just misses Andrew and the rest of our Foxes. I think it’s says a lot that he trusts you with the details of his private life. We all know how hard that is for him.”

Dad Wymack sits in his thought for a quiet minute, thinking back to the locker room in Millport with the brown-haired, brown-eyed boy who was scared to live. To the airport before the new year with the red-haired, blue-eyed boy who was fighting for his family. To a cheap motel in Baltimore with a boy covered in scars who fought to stay and live. Neil has come a long way and Wymack’s chest swells with pride and love for the striker.

Two days later, on Monday, Neil shows up right on time for Wymack’s lunch hour, but the older man doesn’t mind the sound of Neil’s chattering over their shared lunch. “Allison told me my hair is getting too long, but the shampoo she sent me is making my curls look “delicious”. I don’t know what she means by that, how hair can look edible, but Andrew says not to worry about it. Speaking of Andrew, do you know how much he has been bench pressing in the gym? He’s up to—“

Wymack lets out a quiet, exasperated sigh as he leans back in his chair, accepting his fate for the next year as Neil continues talking. He may act annoyed about his new lunch time guest, but it means a lot that Neil feels safe with him, even if that means learning about pop culture and Neil’s distaste for broccoli.

[copperbadge]

You know, ten years ago I might have looked at what working remotely has done to my daily routine and said it's really fucked me, but this morning I was thinking about it and I think I'm much closer to my natural inclinations than I could have been before.

I woke up around 2am today (after going to bed at 8ish), ate half a hamburger, and made a batch of meringues. I'd planned to make meringues and macaroons this morning before making haroset for the Passover dinner I'm going to, and meringues basically look after themselves -- after 90 minutes in a 200F oven they'll be fine if they stay in the cooling oven a bit, and my oven has a timed-shutoff function, so if I go back to sleep it'll be okay. And now the mixing bowl has time to dry after being washed before I make macaroons.

So you know, yes I'm up at 2am eating breakfast and doing tasks, but I ate breakfast because I was hungry and I got something checked off my to-do list. I got six hours of sleep and could get a few more if I want. ADHD has a known association with sleep dysfunction but usually that means "night owl"; I had to be different so for me that manifests as being an extreme morning person. Ordinarily that would be more of a hindrance than you think, except now nobody is seeing my schedule on the daily.

There's no real problem with being up for the day at 2am if you don't have to pretend to be alert and productive from 8 to 4:30 later that same day. I get more done at work because I can square it all away early and then just babysit email the rest of the day. If you don't have to commute, you don't have to avoid the hell of being 15 hours awake while on the bus home - for perspective, if you normally get up at 7 like a normal person, my 5pm is your 10pm.

When breakfast is at 3am, lunch comes around 10:30 -- which is good if you're supposed to take a dose of meds at 1pm on an empty stomach. I no longer have to take my lunch break all in a chunk either; I can eat lunch at a leisurely pace and still only take 20 minutes, and use the rest of my break time to cook or clean in short increments, or just spend a few minutes playing with the cats.

And my ability to stick to a schedule is better, because I have to enforce it myself...but I also can. No need to mess with alarms I'll likely ignore if I can set my work lamp to turn itself off when it's lunch time. If I have to get up to turn it back on, I might as well fix lunch, after all. No need to worry about finishing early and not being able to go home -- I can just walk away and keep email alerts going on my phone until official quitting time.

If I had to go back to in person office work, I could; I knew how to cope before. But I have to admit I'd be really bitter about it.

[paarksunghoon]

resignation (3)

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: this is fully unedited. sorry yall and let’s hope for no typos. I’ll make a masterlist for this series soon :)

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: slightest bit of sexual tension. an almost kiss.

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

please leave a comment/reblog and let me know what you think!

***

Ring, ring, ring.

“No. Absolutely not.” 

Ring, ring, ring.

You pick up your phone without bothering to sit upright and hold it to your ear. Your cat, Pochi, pushes her head against your shoulder when you move.

“What.” 

“Good morning to you too. I see you’re up early!” 

Sunghoon’s voice echoes from the other side of the telephone and he sounds like he’s been awake for quite some time. It’s a curse that he’s the type of person who can handle late nights and early mornings. It means you have to be on your toes to catch him when he needs you, but it’s the goddamn weekend, for crying out loud. 

“It’s seven in the morning on a Saturday. What could you possibly need me for?” 

“I thought you’d be up by now.”

“On a Saturday?” You can almost picture his nonchalant shrug. 

“Dunno. You usually get to the office before I get there.”

“That’s because I’m working. It’s my day off, Sunghoon. I’d like to sleep since I don’t get the chance to do so otherwise.” 

“Your voice does sound a little brittle.” 

You squeeze your palms into fists. “Is there a reason you’re calling me or can I hang up now?” 

“You’re my favorite assistant. You know that, right? I don’t know where I’d be without you and I’m so grateful that you have a good head on your shoulders.” 

“I’m suspicious. Get to the point and stop buttering me up.” 

He laughs. “Okay, you got me. I need you to create a last minute deck before my meeting with Jongseong at 4.”

“Sunghoon.” 

“I know, I know. I’m asking the impossible here, but Jongseong and I are trying to see if this next business opportunity is worth his time. One of our clients seems like a better fit for him and I want to argue the best case possible.” 

A beat passes. 

“I do think you’re an incredible assistant, though. I wasn’t lying about that.” 

You sigh and make sure he can hear it. “You owe me. I’m sacrificing a peaceful Saturday morning making a presentation for Jongseong.”

“You’re making it for me, actually.” 

“No, I’m making it for Jongseong. He doesn’t call me at an ungodly hour.”

“Are you saying Jongseong calls you? 

You laugh. “That’s not what I’m saying at all, but you and I both know you won’t change your mind once you’ve already thought of something.”

“Touché.” 

As you pull yourself from underneath the covers with Pochi making it known that she isn’t happy about it, you balance your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “Is this something I’m needed for, or can I send you the deck via email?” 

“Would you be mad at me if I asked you to accompany me to lunch?” 

“Yeah. I could’ve had plans.”

“But you don’t, though.” 

“Tsk. No need to rub it in that I don’t have a life.” You pull a few items from your wardrobe and attempt to put together an outfit that’s appropriate for a business meeting. Most of your work clothes are in the hamper, so you try to make do with a pair of dark brown trousers and a nice blouse. 

“No need to be super formal today, okay?” Sunghoon says. “It’s just us and Jongseong. Although, his ass is probably gonna come dressed like he came back from golfing with a polo shirt and khakis.”

“You’re no better. You’ll probably try to one-up him and wear a three piece suit,” you retort, pulling out a long skirt and a semi-casual top and putting it on top of your unmade bed. This seems appropriate enough. 

“I won’t this time. I promise.”

“How do I know you’ll keep it?” 

“Because I asked you to work early on a Saturday morning and I might never get the chance to bother you after you leave.” You nearly choke. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you tell him immediately, pretending like you didn’t hear an ounce of sincerity in his voice. “Totally fine.” 

“You don’t sound fine.” 

“What are you, my doctor?”

“No, just the guy you’ve spent nearly everyday with for the past six years. I’d like to think I know you well, even if I can’t see you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I know you better than you know me, though.”

Sunghoon hums. “Maybe. But I know you love Japanese and good quality fish.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“When this meeting’s done, I’ll take you to Hakusi and treat you to a really nice dinner when we’re done with Jongseong.” 

“Don’t play with me, Park.”

“Getting bold with my surname, are we?” 

“You called me to make you a deck on a Saturday. Don’t test me.” 

He laughs. “I like it when you’re feisty.” You try to ignore the heat creeping onto your cheeks. 

“Hakusi is notorious for limited reservations. I don’t know how you’re going to swing that.” 

“This is the one and only time I’m ever going to use this card with you,” he says. “Don’t you know I’m Park Sunghoon?” 

“Okay, Mr. Hot Shot.” 

“Can’t be mad at the truth, love.” 

You bite your lip and close your eyes. “I supposed I can’t.”

“Don’t worry about making any reservations.”

“It’s my job to make reservations on your behalf. You know, the job you pay me for?“

“Not tonight.” 

He speaks with a certain tone you’ve heard him use when he’s certain. There’s a finality to it, ending the sentence with the clear distinction that he’s made his decision instead of leaving the door open for your opinion. It frustrates you to no end during the workweek, but an invisible weight lifts from your shoulders at the idea that Sunghoon will handle reservations for once. 

“Alright…Thanks, Sunghoon.”

He chuckles. “You sound like you don’t trust me to handle something as simple as a reservation.” 

“On the contrary. It’s kind of nice to have my boss do my job, for once.” 

“I was an assistant too, you know. Way back in the day.” 

“Do you think Jongseong will let me see pictures of you from back then?”

“I’m hanging up now.” 

You snicker when you hear the line end. Sunghoon is many things. He’s bold, intelligent, and confident. You’ve witnessed him stare down dozens of men for hours on end to get what he wants for his clients, and you’ve seen him deliver harsh truths to entrepreneurs who don’t have what it takes to be in business withPark Inc. This side of him, the one where he willingly initiates plans for you and takes on the responsibility of organizing the fine details, is not something you’re accustomed to. 

Sunghoon knows the finer things in life and isn’t bothered with pesky details you see on a day-to-day basis. He can be cunning and mischievous, but he knows when to reign it in. He’s unlike any person you’ve worked for in the past. Sunghoon trusts you and he trusts your instincts when it comes to his work. It feels nice to have that unspoken bond with him, and remembering how far you’ve come reminds you that there has always been more to life than worrying about the number of emails that are currently sitting in your inbox. 

He’s never taken the initiative to do something for you to this caliber. Like the generous boss Sunghoon is, he’s sent money to your Venmo on the occasions where he’s acknowledged the hard work you put in (closing big deals, handling ongoing projects, and when your birthday or holidays come around). He speaks highly of you when your name is mentioned in conversation, so much so that you hear about it from his colleagues and other individuals who have a more important standing in the company than you do. Sunghoon is fair and equal, and he believes in giving people a fighting chance if he thinks they deserve it. 

Part of you wonders if you rely on his validation too much. It’s nice to preen under his handsome gaze and relish in a job well done, but lately, you’ve caught yourself basking in that light much longer than before. Sunghoon’s deep, honey voice replays in your head over and over again when he says a mere “thank you.” You daydream about working alongside him for the long run and what your career might look like should you stay with him beyond this fiscal year. It’s rewarding to see things tangibly finished and your years with Sunghoon have certainly proved your capabilities, but a part of you wonders if there’s more to life than being his personal assistant. 

These thoughts follow you as you prepare for the day, brushing your teeth and taking a hot shower to relax your muscles before inevitably spending a few hours hunched over your desk. This deck isn’t going to form on its own.

Pochi sits on the edge of your bed and swishes her tail, effectively making the decision that making your bed will not be on today’s agenda. 

***

You find yourself with your work bag in tow. Sunghoon sent you the location of the hotel bar he and Jongseong would be meeting at, and you sent him a copy of the deck. He never explicitly said you needed to bring your laptop with you, but you figure there’s nothing worse than coming unprepared, even if you’re on a first name basis with Jongseong. 

The two of them are already together before you arrive. You check your watch to see that you aren’t late, and that you’re early by fifteen minutes. Jongseong has a pension for being incredibly early to everything unless stated that it’s social etiquette to be a little later than the designated start time. You figure Sunghoon wants to make a good impression to really sell this client to his friend. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t the best assistant in the entire universe.” 

“You do too much,” you mutter, bowing at the two of them before Sunghoon pulls out a chair for you. It’s a nice bar tucked away from the main lobby. It’s Sunghoon’s favorite spot for casual meetings because of how quiet it is, and the ambiance saunters somewhere between elegant and casual. 

“Thanks for coming to see me on a Saturday, and sorry for dragging you out on a weekend,” Jongseong says as he gives you a quick hug. 

“It’s not a problem.” 

Sunghoon raises his eyebrow. “Yet when I called you this morning, you made it seem like I was being banished to Hell.”

“You had the audacity to call me to work. Not Jongseong.” 

“Yeah, Hoon,” Jongseong smirks. “Get your facts straight.” 

“Great. My best friend and favorite assistant are ganging up on me.”

“I’m your only assistant?” 

“Still my favorite.” 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jongseong asks as he gestures to the bar. “I’ll put it on my tab.”

“White wine of your choice. I trust your selections.” 

He smiles. “I’ll be right back.” 

When Jongseong walks to the bar, Sunghoon watches you pull out your laptop and turn it back on. You feel him staring at your side and he doesn’t look away when you look back at him. 

“Can I help you?” 

“No,” Sunghoon says with an easy smile. “Thanks for coming in. I, err, guess we could’ve done this last week, but it slipped my mind until the client emailed me last night and I knew Jongseong had some time today.” 

You sigh. “It’s fine. I’m already here, aren’t I?” 

“I mean it when I said I owe you a big one. You’ve done so much for me and it’s only fair that I repay you.”

“You’re my boss, Sunghoon. It’s in my job description to cater to your every need.”

He pouts. “Yeah, but when you put it like that, you make it sound like you’re my slave.” 

“Of sorts.” 

“Let me treat my favorite assistant to dinner, yeah? We can get drunk off of yummy cocktails and you don’t have to schmooze your way into people’s inboxes. I promise you’ll have a good time. No work talk until Monday.”

“No work talk, hm? Sounds like a great way to end my Saturday.” 

“The bill’s on me, too. No need to worry about how much you’re spending tonight.” 

“You sure know how to charm them,” you mutter as you open the correct file. 

“Them?”

“Women, men, everyone.” You say it absentmindedly. “Is it always that easy to get people to do what you want?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You barely have to look in people’s direction and yet people are always drawn to you. It’s like you’re some sort of magnet, or something.” 

“I could say the same thing about you. People always know where to find you.”

“That’s because they all want to do business with you, Sunghoon. It’s never about me, really. Nobody strikes up a conversation with me because they find me interesting. It’s always small talk until they get to the bottom of why they want to talk to me, and it’s usually about you.” 

“I’m sorry about that.”

You shrug. “Don’t be. It’s my job to listen to people talk about you.” 

Jongseong walks back with a glass of wine (sauvignon blanc, just how dry you like it) and the awkward tension between you and Sunghoon disappears. It’s uncanny how well he adapts to his environment because it’s like that conversation between you two never happened at all. It feels a bit strange to open up to him like that, too. You talk about yourself and share tidbits of your life here and there, but opening up to him and sharing parts of yourself in a way that doesn’t revolve around your work is uncharted territory. 

They look over your deck and Jongseong seems impressed by Sunghoon’s pitch. He was right, it’s up Jongseong’s alley and the kind of business he’d work hard for given the right circumstances. 

“I’m impressed with how much of their personality you were able to fit into a PowerPoint presentation.” Jongseong delicately closes your laptop and hands it to you. “You sure you want to quit being an assistant? I wouldn’t mind having someone as incredible as you on my team.”

“No one gets her if I can’t,” Sunghoon says immediately. It catches you off guard but Jongseong merely laughs him off. 

“Whatever you say, Hoon.” The way Jongseong smiles reminds you of a humble, honest cartoon character, and it makes you smile too. “Thanks again for coming out here on a Saturday. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around for the next month or so, but I’m gonna miss working with you when you’re gone.” 

“You’re too kind to me.” You step forward to give him a proper hug, and Sunghoon doesn’t hide his distaste. “I’ll talk with the client and let them know you’re interested and touch base with your assistant to set up an introduction”

“What would we ever do without you?” Jongseong asks as the three of you walk towards the lobby. “What are you doing with the months you have left at Park Inc.?”

“Tie up some loose ends and find another assistant good enough for him,” you say, pointing at Sunghoon. He looks like he might as well be pouting, and you know it’s because he has no natural leeway into the conversation. It always makes you laugh, especially since his friends love indulging you over him to knock his ego down a peg. 

“You’re pretty loyal for doing all of that instead of leaving.”

“I thought about it.” You look at Sunghoon, and then quickly look away. “I respect him a lot, you know? I think my experience being an assistant is far better than some of my peers. I can’t leave him with a bunch of loose threads and someone incompetent.”

“They’ll never be as smart as her,” Sunghoon interrupts, “but I hope my new assistant will try to be.” 

“You’re impeccable at your job,” Jongseong compliments. “Any idea about what you’re going to do next?” 

“I don’t know…It’s stupid of me to quit without having anything lined up, isn’t it?” 

He shrugs. “Only if they aren’t you. I’m sure Sunghoon would write a stellar letter of recommendation if you asked him. And if he doesn’t, you can always ask me to do it.” 

“I’ll write you a letter of recommendation,” Sunghoon interrupts once more. “No need to have a co-signer that isn’t me.” 

“Aw. You guys sure know how to make an assistant feel loved.” 

“You’re an incredibly hard worker and everyone at Park Inc. sees that. It’ll be sad to know you’re walking away, but I hope this doesn’t mean I won’t hear from you.” 

“Of course not.” The valet brings Jongseong’s car to the front and you give him another quick hug. “Thanks for all you’ve done and for keeping Sunghoon in line.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you for that?” He winks and waves goodbye before speeding off. 

As you reach into your bag to find your valet stub, Sunghoon pulls out his wallet and hands his own to the attendant. When you produce yours, he snatches it out of your hand and pays for that too. 

“I told you I’d take care of everything, didn’t I?” 

You remain skeptical. “I thought that only extended to dinner reservations.” Sunghoon shakes his head. 

“Nope. From here on out, I’ll be taking care of that. 

“Why, because you feel like you owe me some kind of debt?” He tilts his head and smiles at you, amused. 

“Sure, if that’s how you want to put it. I know that pretty little head of yours tends to overthink, so let me handle this, yeah?”

“Okay…”

“Atta girl.” 

You turn to hide your blush. Your car arrives first and Sunghoon follows behind the attendant who opens the door for you. After thanking him, you step into the driver’s seat and see Sunghoon standing above you with his door on the handle. 

“I’ll pick you up at, say, seven?”

“You’re not giving me any choice, are you?” 

“Don’t play coy with me. I know you want to eat at Hakusi.” You hate it when he’s right. 

“Thanks, Sunghoon. I’ll…see you at seven.” 

***

What do you wear to an informal dinner with your boss? 

This is a question you struggle with every time you’re scheduled to spend time with him after working hours. You’re typically accompanied by colleagues on a night out during business trips, but this is the first time you’ll be alone with him. You try not to overthink it as you pull out yet another potential outfit, but this feels more like meeting a friend than meeting your boss. 

Sunghoon didn’t give you a dress code of any kind. Is he expecting you to wear professional attire? Should you stick to something casual? You look up the interior of the restaurant on Google and immediately put away all of your trousers. Instagram proves to be a little more helpful because you scroll through tagged posts to see what people are wearing, and you settle on a flattering dress that stops at your ankles with a pair of heels that don’t make you feel like you’re walking into the office. 

You find yourself groaning when you realize how much effort you’re putting into doing your makeup. From foundation to contour, blush to lip gloss, it feels like you might as well be getting ready for a date. You don’t put this much effort in your morning routine during the work week because there’s simply no time, so why are you going the extra mile when all you’re doing is seeing your boss?

You settle for a simple hairstyle that doesn’t make it seem like you didn’t put any effort. One look in the mirror tells you it’s been a while since you had a reason to get ready like this, and one call from Sunghoon tells you he’s downstairs and waiting for you. 

You’re expecting to see his driver’s car pull up and open the door for you. What you don’t expect is Sunghoon leaning against his own with his arms crossed over his shoulders. 

“Y-You’re here?” 

Sunghoon merely looks at you and smiles as he nods once. It’s a bit unfair how good he looks without trying. His hair isn’t slicked back like it usually is. He ditched his attire from earlier in the day to sport jeans, a leather bomber jacket, and a tight fitting shirt worn–in tennis shoes. Sunghoon looks normal. He doesn't look like the person who gives you orders on a daily basis. The way he looks makes your steps weak and you hate that he has this effect on you. 

“I told you I’d take care of everything tonight, didn’t I?” 

You’re careful when you step on the brick below you. It’s been a while since you’ve worn these pair of heels, and you’d be damned if you fell in front of Sunghoon. 

“I didn’t think that extended to car service.”

He chuckles. “I’m capable of driving the two of us.” 

Sunghoon opens the passenger door for you and assists you inside. His hand touches the back of your elbow and you feel like it might as well be burning with the sensation that follows. Once he’s sure you’re tucked inside, he closes this door gently and jogs in front of the hood to enter the car himself. 

“This feels oddly intimate,” you say as you put your seatbelt on. 

“How so?” Sunghoon starts the engine. 

“It’s just the two of us.” 

“We’ve spent time together without anybody else before. In fact, that’s how most of our days go.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different.” Sunghoon pulls off of your street and turns his indicator on before he does so. You scold yourself for praising him for such an action. 

“I don’t think so. We’re two people trying to spend time together before you inevitably quit and leave.” 

“Why now, of all times? Nothing’s going to change my mind about resigning.” Sunghoon looks at you once he’s stopped at a red light. 

“Tonight isn’t about trying to convince you to stay. I like working with you and would do anything to keep you, yes, but I can’t force you to do a job you don’t want to do. I know you better than you think I do. You're not the type of person to follow orders if you don’t think it’s the right move. The whole reason why I chose to renew your contract the first time was because you weren’t afraid to tell me your opinion, especially when it disagreed with mine.” 

Sunghoon has never been this candid with you before. 

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” He starts driving again when the light turns green and hums. 

“It occurred to me that while I’ve picked up on who you are in the years I’ve known you, I don’t know much about who you are beyond our work. You know so much about me, though, and you’ve helped me through a lot in my personal life. It’s only fair I get to know you like that, too.” 

“That’s…oddly sentimental.” 

“You seem a bit speechless and you never get like that.” 

“I’m just surprised to be hearing all of this. I know you like our working relationship and I know we work well together. I don’t think I’ve ever thought that we’d be getting dinner on a Saturday night together without the context of work.” 

“Do you want to talk about work?” 

You shake your head. “Not tonight. I have a few plans for finding a new assistant, but that’s a conversation that can wait until Monday.” 

“Turning your brain off for once, I see? Good girl.” 

Sunghoon and that damn nickname. You angle your knees slightly away from his body to focus on the environment around you instead of him. 

Hakusi is a truly beautiful restaurant. You let loose when the hostess allows you to wait by the bar while they set up your table. You take up Sunghoon’s offer to cover the entire tab and try not to feel the least bit guilty, even though you logically know this meal will barely make a dent in his finances. You settle on drinking a cocktail with tequila and grapefruit, and feel your body settle the more you sip on the alcohol. With barely anything in your stomach, you’re a bit grateful it’s already starting to get to your head because it calms down any anxiety you have about tonight. Sunghoon orders a signature cocktail from the menu and asks the hostess to provide sake once the table is set up. You glance over the meny once and choose not to double check the price of the sake he just ordered. 

The table is elegantly dressed and, for once in your life, you feel like you belong in such an establishment. You’re not here as Sunghoon’s assistant. You’re here as yourself, who happens to be having a nice meal with your boss. The back of your mind expects the night to end with emails being sent out and impromptu meetings being held, but Sunghoon looks at you like he’s here to have a good time. For his sake, you try to emulate him. 

“Have you ever been here before?” you ask him. 

“A few times. Once for the grand opening and twice when friends are in town. It’s not rated a Michelin star for nothing.” 

“I know,” you say, finishing the last of your cocktail. Sunghoon pours you a small shot of the warm sake. “It’s why I wanted to try this place out. Definitely out of my budget, but if I could visit any restaurant, it would be this one.”

“What else do you have hiding up your sleeve?” he asks as he pours himself a shot. “I feel like I know so much about you and nothing at all.”

“Are we going to play twenty-one questions like teenagers?” 

Sunghoon laughs. “Something like that. You’ve worked so hard for me and I barely know the first thing about you.”

“You say that like you’re supposed to know me on a deep level.” His eyes flicker up at you. 

“It should be that way if you’re my assistant, no?” 

The way he looks at you makes this feel like a first date. In fact, the ambient lighting, the luxurious decor, and the fact that he doesn’t look like the boss you know, makes you feel like this is a first date where he’s trying to assess whether he thinks you two will be compatible together. Or are you just overthinking?

Wait, what was the question again? 

“I’m sure you know more about me than you think you do.”

He licks his lips. “Aha! I see. You don’t like talking about yourself much, do you?”

“What? That’s crazy. I talk about myself all the time. You know I have a cat and live alone.”

“I know the basic, bare-boned facts about you. I don’t think there’s ever been a time where you’ve talked to me about yourself unless it’s relevant to the conversation at hand.” 

“And that makes me somebody who doesn't like to open up?” 

“You’re deflecting now,” he says with a smirk, hand gesturing like he knows he’s right. “You keep answering my questions with answers. That tells me a lot more about you than you think.”

You huff. “I’m trying not to be offended, you know. If this was a date, this would be a shitty first date.” 

Why did I say that?

“If this was a date, I’d still be asking you questions to get to know you better.”

“Fine.” You take a sip of the sake and let the remnants of its warmth slide down your throat. “You’re right. I don’t feel comfortable being the center of attention and I find it really hard to talk about myself. It’s easier to blend into the background when people don’t expect much from me.”

“You outshine everyone all the time.” 

You nearly choke on your drink. “Uh, no. That’s definitely you and your expensive suits and good cologne.” 

“I turn heads, sure. But you’re the one who’s smarter than everyone else in the room. You’re always one step ahead and people know it, too. Don’t downplay yourself.” 

“For work, maybe.”  You finish your first glass of sake and Sunghoon pours you another one. “In my personal life? I practically scream ‘invisible.’ I don’t think there’s ever been a time in my life where I’ve been front and center stage. Not that I want to be, though.”

“Why not?” 

You shrug indifferently. “Not for me. It’s hard when everyone has their eyes on me. It makes me feel like I did something wrong.” 

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, you don’t have to listen to me talk about the insecure shit. We could talk about your taxes.”

“I’m fine with the insecure shit,” Sunghoon says without a care in the world. “And I’d rather not talk about my finances.” 

“So you’d rather talk about me?” 

He nods. “I’d rather talk about you.” 

“Great. I’m gonna need to be significantly more buzzed than I am now to open up to you.” 

“I’m driving and you’re not paying anything. Get as drunk as you’d like.”

You order another cocktail. 

“I guess I’d be awful on a first date anyway, huh? I can only think about work and everything that doesn’t have to do with me.” 

“It’s probably because the only thing we ever talk about is work,” Sunghoon says before the waiter comes to the table. You allow him to order for you, which is something you would typically find annoying, but he knows this restaurant and what’s worthwhile better than you do. It’s hard for you to relax and let somebody else take charge. You know Sunghoon can tell that about you too. 

“Let yourself go and have fun,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind. “I’m not here as your employer today. There’s nothing you could say that would make me regret covering the tab.” 

“You’re not using your own money, are you?” 

“I’ll expense this meal if it makes you feel better.”

You sip on your cocktail, thinking. “No, I think I’d prefer it if you used your personal card.” 

He grins. “Wouldn’t have expensed it even if you asked me to. You deserve a good night out every once in a while. 

Goodness. His words sound so innocent and sincere, and yet you can’t help but yearn for a guy like Sunghoon. Rather, you can’t help but yearn for him when he says those kinds of things to you, but your relationship with him is strictly business. Even if you don’t necessarily think of him like that all of the time. 

“I can’t even remember the last time I went out with someone. God, it must’ve been forever ago. My younger brother tried to set me up with his friend’s cousin, but that ended badly and I think I swore off dating for the foreseeable future.”

“That bad?”

You nod. “That bad. Men are mistakes waiting to happen. Or maybe I keep forcing something out of nothing. Maybe both. My job keeps me busy enough to not think about this stuff, though. I’ve got you to worry about.” 

A few more small glasses of sake and two cocktails later, you find yourself loose enough to the point where the filter on your mouth starts to let things slip out. You’re still sentient and aware of what you’re saying and doing, of course. You don’t think there's ever been a time in your life where you’ve lowered your inhibitions to the point where you make a complete fool of yourself. After all, you’re still at dinner with your boss, even if it looks and feels like you’re on a date. 

The food is delicious and Sunghoon slowly coaxes you to open up the more you eat and drink. It feels like some kind of excuse to get you to talk, but you know that’s the part of your brain that says you don’t belong in a place like this, or to be dining across someone like Sunghoon. You’ve spent so much of your time with him for the last six years that it’s become somewhat easy to figure him out. Whether it’s because you’re drunk or because you know him, you reckon Sunghoon is being genuine when he says he wants to treat you to a night out because you deserve it. 

You’re nearly stumbling out of the restaurant by the time the check is paid, and you’ve sent many compliments to the chef by the end of the meal. Sunghoon merely smiles at you when you converse with the waiter and doesn’t tell you to stop talking. He finds that you’re quite the charmer when you have enough alcohol in you to forego any bad thought you have about yourself. It’s like you’re more affectionate than you are sober, and that’s another part of you he wants to get to know. 

Sunghoon leads you back to the car and drives you home eventually, careful not to overdo it with the speed because you’ve still got a bit of a headache. He tells you that his place is closer and you can spend the night as his given your intoxicated state, but you refuse under the guise that your cat still needs to be fed, as you didn’t plan on an impromptu sleepover. Your drunk brain can’t process the fact that Sunghoon asked you to stay the night. 

He isn’t disappointed and doesn’t mind driving the extra fifteen minutes to drop you off back at your apartment. Ever the gentleman, Sunghoon steps out of the car and helps you to the front door of the lobby and you insists that you’re fine to ride the elevator up four floors and walk to your apartment, but he tells you to lead the way anyhow. It’s no use to argue with him, especially when you aren’t sober enough to tell him off. 

You allow yourself to stumble a bit more now that you’re not in the public eye and Sunghoon immediately puts your arm in his own when you walk and search for your keys simultaneously. He chuckles when you finally stop in front of your door and when you begin to unlock it. 

“You’re something else when you’re drunk, you know that?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you grumble. Sunghoon imagines you pouting like you have been when you insisted on walking alone. 

“You’re a bit grumpy and affectionate. Very cute.” 

“That’s an oxymoron.” 

“It’s true. You talk more about yourself without feeling insecure, which you never have to feel, by the way. I’m sure there are a shit ton of people who feel the same way you do about dating.” 

“Easy for you to say, Sunghoon. You look like a Greek God.” You open the door and Sunghoon looks away and blushes. “Thanks for tonight. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome. I mean it too when I say you deserve nice things and for people to do things for you. It’s a nice change of pace, isn’t it?” 

You turn around to face him once you’ve stepped in the door. “Yeah, I guess it is. I could get used to it.” 

“Maybe you can.” 

A beat of silence passes. It’s hard to resist looking at Sunghoon’s lips but you let your eyes glance at them for a brief moment before looking back at him, and you pray he doesn’t notice. 

“Goodnight. Get a lot of rest and have some water, yeah?” 

“Mhm. I will.” 

Sunghoon nods and then does the unthinkable. He steps forward and encircles his arms around your body, effectively caging you into a hug like you two have been longtime friends. His body is warm and sturdy, and the mental image of the few times you’ve seen him shirtless come rushing to the forefront of your brain. You do your best to reciprocate the hug as he gently tugs your body closer to him, and the hug itself lasts a moment too long for it to be friendly. 

He pulls back and smiles at you. 

“Sleep tight.” 

***

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[headkiss]

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

༄

Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

-

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

-

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

-

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

-

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, ��it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

-

+1

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day fifteen.

Good Girl + Wearing His Clothes During Sex (2k words)

summary: The last thing you needed was your boyfriend distracting you from all the work you needed to get done, but he knew just the way to get your attention.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, oral (f receiving), praise, dom!lando, unprotected sex.

The big hotel room felt overwhelming as you sat on the desk with your laptop in front of you. This is what you had to put up with for travelling around the world to support your boyfriend. You wouldn’t say it wasn’t worth it, but it was the time difference that was really killing you. 

You hoped to have enough time to enjoy Brazil and its beautiful activities, but sadly, this wasn’t the case, since you now found yourself feeling stressed, with a million things to do, and wearing one of Lando’s shirts that rested just above your thigh to put up with the hot weather.

Lando was laying on the bed, staring at you as you typed away; he was growing a little desperate. You promised you would be done in time for lunch, or at least to spend some time together, but it wasn’t looking like that would happen for who knows how long.

“How is it going?”

“Uh- not great,” he sighed as you said this. There were many reasons he brought you with him, and watching you work was not one of them. “I’ll be over soon, I promise.”

“How long?”

“Baby, I’ll be done in time for lunch, okay?” You said again, looking at him momentarily.

He looked at the time, assuming he wouldn’t have to wait too much since it was almost lunchtime. He decided to stop bothering you and just let you do your thing, knowing that if he distracted you, you’d take longer, and he just needed you to himself as soon as possible. 

An hour went by, and it didn’t look like you would be done any time soon; he hated to admit it, but he was almost at his limit. He realised it wasn’t fair to feel that way, but he honestly couldn’t help it. He decided to give you 15 more minutes, mentally setting a timer to drag you away from your computer, and when the time was done, that’s exactly what he did, or at least that was his intention. 

“Okay, time for lunch. What do you feel like eating?” He said it in a tone that felt like he wasn’t giving you an option to reject him. 

“Just 30 more minutes, baby, I promise.”

“What? That’s what you said almost two hours ago.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I just need to send this one thing and I’m all yours.” You looked at him with a soft smile, hoping he would understand.

Instead, he grunted in annoyance. “Baby, please. Is that office falling apart without you?”

“It is, by the looks of it.”

“Come on. Let’s have lunch and then you can come back to work. I’m starving.”

“Lando,” you stared at him more seriously now, feeling like a mother telling their kid away, going back to your laptop after a few seconds.

Were you being serious? He thought as he stood there, still looking at you and waiting for you to give him some attention. But you didn’t, so he would have to come up with a better plan. 

He stood behind the desk chair, wrapping his arms around you as he planted soft kisses on your jaw. This made you melt instantly, but that feeling quickly went away when a notification popped on your screen. With that, your attention went back to the screen.

But he wouldn’t give up so easily. His mouth travelled further down, paying special attention to your neck.

“Not now, Lando. I’m quite busy.”

He turned the chair around, so now you were facing him. “You need to take a break, my love, you can’t keep going like this.”

“I’m almost done-”

“That’s what you have been saying, not only today but literally every day.” He was giving you his best puppy eyes, hoping that would make you break. 

“I know… no, don’t give me that look.”

“Please, one hour is all I’m asking for. We’ll order room service so we don’t even have to leave the room. Is a win-win.”

He kneeled in front of you, his hands landing on your thighs as he started kissing your exposed skin. You were considering it; in one hand, stopping for an hour wouldn’t hurt anybody, but then again, if you stopped, that means you would eventually have to come back and finish later.

That internal battle was soon forgotten when you felt one of his hands creeping up between your legs, quickly finding your clothed core. You let out an involuntary moan, closing your eyes as you enjoyed his touch.

“See? You need to relax,” he whispered, his kisses becoming wetter the closer he got to the inside of your thighs. “Lift your hips for me.” Lando hooked his fingers in the hem of your panties, sliding them down your body and throwing them somewhere behind him. With all the patience in the world, he used one of his fingers to play with your clit, circling it softly as he looked up at you, a smirk forming on his face when he saw how much you were enjoying it.

“Want me to keep going?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, swallowing hard as your small hand fell on his hair.

He decided to cut out the teasing now that he could see how desperate you were getting, burying himself completely between your legs and planting a kiss directly on your clit. The moan you let out was glorious, and it only encouraged him to keep going. He then started to properly eat you out, licking and sucking just the way you liked it. He directed his tongue to your dripping hole, collecting all your arousal and then licking up your slit, bringing it to your sensitive clit.

“Shit, so good,” you moaned, and you could feel him smiling at the effect he had on you.

God, his tongue was really doing wonders. Repeatedly, he was lapping at your clit and then gently sucking on it for a longer period of time, which he knew was what you enjoyed the most, teasing it with the tip of his tongue from time to time. A few minutes went by as he repeated this process, adding a finger inside you when he felt you clench around nothing.

The added pleasure made you arch your back and push his head closer to you, although that was impossible. You couldn’t help it; you could feel your orgasm so close yet so far. It was probably the stress; Lando was right, you were overworking yourself day after day, and this was probably just what you needed.

Another thick finger was added as he picked up the pace, and you began to feel the familiar tightening of your orgasm approach.

“Lando- fuck.” Your eyes were squeezed shut as your legs that rested on his shoulder began to shake, gasps and pants escaping your lips as you started to see stars, your orgasm hitting you shortly after. 

You could hear him moan faintly, the vibrations prolonging your climax as your tiny clit pulsed against his tongue. Your entire body was combulsing so much that you were sure that if Lando wasn’t holding you with one of his strong arms, the chair wouldn’t be standing anymore.

When it became too much, you pushed his head away, breathing heavily as you came down from your high. But he was starting to get needy himself. He shifted on his feet and carried you in his arms, immediately kissing you, and you could taste yourself in his mouth. 

He walked towards the bed and softly placed you down, stepping away for a moment to undress himself. You admired his muscles flexing as he pulled his shirt over his head, his eyes never leaving your body. His intense gaze made you feel exposed, reaching down and trying to shove the shirt over your bare bottom half while he stood over you. 

God, he really had you in the palm of his hand, because the way he chucked had you pathetically leaking down your thighs and onto the bed. 

“Can’t get shy now, sweetheart, I’ve seen all of it,” he reminded you, making your cheeks go red as you recalled the events that took place in the chair across the room just minutes ago. 

You timidly nodded, paying attention to how his hands moved to undo his belt and pull his pants down, along with his underwear. His smirk grew darker as you pressed your thighs together; the way he affected you never went unnoticed, and he always yearned to give you more.

Once he was finally done, he hovered over you, his lips immediately finding yours. You involuntarily moaned against him, wrapping your legs around him to bring him closer. In a swift movement, he rolled you over so you would be on top, dragging your hips lower to get you to sit on his desperate cock. 

Your hips started slowly moving, relieving some of the neediness he was feeling; his moans joined yours, and as you got more into it, your hands reached for the hem of the shirt you were still wearing.

“No, keep that on for me, yeah?” He stopped you, pulling it back down. You nodded and placed your hands on his chest instead, nails digging at his skin.

“Mhm, need you,” you moaned, lifting your hips and guiding his cock to your entrance. That action sent a throb through his already aching abdomen, an incredibly deep moan coming from him as you sat back down. 

“Fuck, so perfect for me.” He whimpered, his hands finding your waist to guide your movements. This made his shirt roll up, uncovering your pussy and part of your tummy; he could practically see himself inside you as you bounced on his cock.

You had your lip trapped between your teeth as your hands were now placed on top of his, your eyes shut as you arched your back, allowing him to have a better view of how his huge cock disappeared inside you. He could watch you ride him forever; you were always so good for him.

“Good girl.” You let out a loud moan at his words and clenched his pulsing dick inside you, making you open your eyes and look down at him — a look somewhere between surprised and embarrassed meeting his eyes.

Lando didn’t share your feelings of embarrassment at all; in fact, he was going insane at the reaction two simple words got out of you. Oh, he was going to use that to his advantage.

“Like it when I call you a good girl?” Fuck, another loud moan. “Yeah, are you being a good girl for me?”

“Ah, yes,” you breathed out, your pace picking up at every word he uttered. 

“Keep going, baby, you are doing so good.” A broken moan vibrated from your chest, only making him more amused.

You did as he said, maintaining a rhythm that felt so good for both of you. However, after a few seconds, he felt like it wasn't fast enough, because the next thing you knew, he had planted his feet on the bed and thursted up into you, his grip on your waist tightening and breaking your rhythm, smirking at the broken moan you let out. 

“I need- please,” you moaned desperately as you felt him hit your g-spot over and over again. He watched with darkened eyes as you threw your head back and screamed his name. 

“Come on, wanna keep my cum inside your tummy?” As if he could drive you even crazier, one of his thumbs landed on your clit. His teeth flashed in a grin when you nodded, pressing harder. “Cum with me, baby.”

As soon as he said those words, the coil in your stomach tightened before breaking completely, more broken moans and a few curses slipping past your lips. He cried out when his orgasm followed soon after, filling your pussy with his hot cum. 

You fell forward onto his chest, his hands caressing your back under the sweaty shirt. “Good girl,” he muttered one more time as he pressed a sweet kiss to your head.

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[getosbigballsack]

Ceo husband Gojo Satoru! x Stay at home wife reader!

Random thought, but imagine getting caught having sex with your husband in his office. Its not unusual for the both of you to get it down and dirty in his office, but that's usually during his lunch hours or after dark when he knows he has you all to himself because the kids were at their grandparents and no one was really lurking around his office.

But today, today's different. Upon receiving a text message from your husband. "I need you, come to the office as soon as you can." You wasted no time packing up the kids in the car along with their sleepwear for the night, just in case your husband decides to have his way for you for the whole day. And you hurriedly dropped them off at their grandparents for the night before rushing to tend to your husband.

As soon as you arrive at his company and greeted those who were in sight with a smile and gentle wave, you were finally standing in front of your husband's office. "Satoru, I'm here," you called out.

"Come in doll, I've been waiting," he responds and you did. Slowly twisting the door nob and quickly making your way inside his office. When you close the door behind you and turn around, there he was sitting around his desk with a glass of dry whiskey in his hand swirly around. Piercing blue eyes staring at you as you slowly made your way over to him.

"What's wrong?" You ask him, taking note of the scowl that was currently present on his face. "Is everything alright with you?"

You were patiently waiting for a response, your hand rubbing up and down your arm as you stare down at him with worry. However, instead of receiving kinder response or maybe an explanation, he instructed you, "Take of your clothes and bend over the desk. I would rather much talk to your pussy instead of answering your questions."

In times like these you would scold him and demand for him to provide with an answer. But not today! Something just felt completely off about him today. So you obeyed him, like the good pretty wife that you are and stripped naked, kicking off your shoes as well before bending over his desk, spreading your legs in the process too.

You only see his hand place the glass of whiskey in front of you before moving to open up his drawer to pull out a lube he keep in there for times like these. He wasted no time, loosing his tie, popping open a few if not all the button on his work shirt as well as unbuckling his belt, dropped it on the floor, then unzipping his pants and quickly pulled out his already erect cock.

"I'm going to be rough with you ok," he said to you as he squirts some of the lube on your pussy and also on his cock. He didn’t want to waste any more precious time. He wasted enough for the day, all he wanted to do right now is to sink his cock into your hole and pound your pussy beyond its limits. "I'm going to be so fucking rough with you."

"I can take it Satoru, so go on ravish me all you want," you said in an understanding too that just turns him on even more now.

He strokes his cock, hoist on of your leg on the table before resting one hand in the middle of your back, and the other pressing the fat tip at your weeping entrance. "Forgive me," he says before sinking into you, stuffing your precious cunt full of his cock. And you husband did not waste a sec more before pulling his hips back and slamming into you with one sharp thrust, almost knocking the very soul out of you.

"Fuck, baby... ugh Satoru," you moan out from his harsh painfully yet pleasure thrust.

"Just what I need after that stressful fucking meeting," he moaned. "They stressed me fuck out, with the marketing and sales department fuck shit, I just had to call my wife, so that she can relive me of my stress with this fucking pussy right," he mutters, pulling your hips back to meet his harsh thrust. The skin your ass swelling too and your pussy burning red from his harsh thrust and he's not going to stop now, not anytime soon.

And now here you both are two fucking long hours of your husband fucking your pussy raw over the desk, in his chair and now here your are again, laying flat on your back thing time with your legs bent all the way back to your chest and your messy pussy, filled with his cum and yours on display and he continued to fuck your hole out.

He's so focused on busting a nut inside your pussy, yet again, he completely forget another cooperate meeting with a few of the board if directors that started fifteen minutes. But not for long though because in came bursting into his office, his secretary and both managers and there secretary from the sales and marketing departments.

"Oh... oh... oh," they all said in union, eyes widening at the scene that is before them. Their boss, holding his wife in the most scandalous position and he roughly pounds away in your cunt.

"Satoru... darling..." You said, panicking, upon realizing that five men we're currently inside your husband's office, watching as he degrades your body in the most shameful and disrespectful way possible. "Satoru, stop people are watching..."

"Shut up," he says to, slapping his hand over your mouth, before turning to look the five men up and down then turning his attention back to you. "Don't speak, you were being such a good girl for me, keeping that pretty mouth of your occupied with only sounds of my name and your precious moans. Right, now go on moan as loud as you can for me."

And of course you followed through with his request, despite a set of ten eyes that were currently watching you being tamed and controlled by your husband.

Still stunned, by what's going on, they continued to watch on until Gojo yelled, "Get the fuck out of my fucking office. Can't you see if busy fucking my wife. Get out, all of you."

"But... but sir the mee..."

"I said get the FUCK OUT OF... ugh fuck fuck... MY OFFICE."

With that said, they all rushed out his office. All traumatized and cock hard from the sight that was before time.

And as they all walked away from the office to go and attend the meeting, to inform the BOD's that the meeting as been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances, they could hear you loudly moaning Gojo’s name and him grunting as he spoke, "Look at how much cum fills up your pussy, your better take every drop, just so you can get round and swollen with out fourth child."

[angelicyoongie]

(you're) always on my mind (I)

— pairing: bird hybrid jimin x (f) reader — word count: 5.1k — summary: When your workplace announces that they've decided to promote collaboration between departments, you suddenly find yourself face to face with your sworn nemesis Park Jimin. Your plans to avoid him are quickly foiled as his presence turns the floor into a madhouse, your coworkers all vying for his attention. With so many people at his beck and call, why is it that Jimin is always so insistent on getting in your way?

01 - 02 - Masterlist

Gentle hums accompany you as you flick through the pages on your desk, highlighting the important keywords in your proposal.

Adjusting the reading glasses that are slipping down your nose, you glance to the side to find Jungkook twirling a pen between his fingers, staring at the same empty email as he has been for the past thirty minutes. Working beside Jungkook for the past three years has given you enough time to learn his cues and grow so accustomed to them that you no longer really notice when they happen.

In the beginning, the humming and singing under his breath would drive insane when you were trying to concentrate but you've since come to appreciate it. Jungkook would have a field day if he knew, but the truth is that you've found yourself missing the constant stream of the current top 10 pop songs on the days he's not in the office. 

"Do you need help with the email?" You ask as you flip to another page, tapping the highlighter against your chin as you scan through the words.

The humming – which you've learned Jungkook resorts to whenever he's feeling stressed – is cut off by a groan. 

"No, it's fine." 

You hear Jungkook clicking his mouse before the screen next to yours goes dark.

"I know that this workshop would improve my skill set but I'm not sure how to convince Mr. Shin of the same thing. For a company that's always pushing improvement and development, they sure hate to invest in it." 

"Tell me about it," You let out a quiet snort. "You know I had to beg Mr. Shin for months just let me attend a three-hour seminar the higher-ups had recommended for all the marketing employees." 

You see a mop of brown hair fall to the desk in your periphery, Jungkook letting out another upset sound. You give him a half-hearted pat on the back, quickly turning back to your proposal. 

"I'm hungry," Jungkook whines.

"And I'm not done yet," You reply as you drag your pen across another important section. 

"But it's officially lunchtime–" Jungkook goes silent for a beat as he picks up his phone, staring at the clock until it hits noon on the dot, "- right now! It won't make a difference if you hand in that proposal now or in an hour, you know Mr. Shin never looks at anything until after he's had his lunch."

"I can feel my body growing weaker with every passing second, Y/n, my vision is getting blurry, I can't feel my toes–" 

You roll your eyes as Jungkook dramatically slips off his chair, sinking to the floor between your desks. You place your pen down with a sigh, turning your head to find him already staring at you with wide, pleading eyes. 

"Are you really that hungry?" 

"Starving," Jungkook nods solemnly.

You spare your almost-finished proposal another glance. You know that Jungkook is right but the perfectionist in you hates to leave anything longer than you have to. Still, what difference will an hour make?

"Fine," You concede as you put your pen down, "Let's go get lunch." 

Jungkook lets out a victorious sound as he springs to his feet. He barely lets you grab your wallet before he pulls you out of your seat, throwing an arm around your shoulder to steer to toward the elevator before you can change your mind.

"So, what's the special today?" You ask as you both cram yourself into the open elevator, Jungkook's beefy frame providing some extra leeway from the other workers. You truly have no clue how his business casual attire has made it this long without ripping at the seams, you swear he's only getting more muscular with every passing week. 

"Pork belly," He gives you a sheepish smile.

"That explains the dramatics," You shake your head, smiling back at him.

You both hurry out of the elevator when it reaches the floor of the cafeteria, not wanting to get stuck in line behind everyone else. You pout as what must be a leopard hybrid slips past you, their natural gait so quick you only really catch sight of the tip of their black tail as they round the corner into the cafeteria. You and Jungkook are just regular old humans, so there is no competition there. 

As soon as you both have your food, with Jungkook's plate stacked so high you're worried it might topple over as you make your way through the cafeteria, you scan the crowd for a familiar set of antlers. You give Hoseok a bright smile as you spot him at an empty table, the deer hybrid is always quicker than the two of you to get out of his duties and grab a table. 

"There are my overachievers!" Hoseok greets you as you both take a seat. "Lunch started exactly seven minutes ago, why are you so late?" 

Jungkook lets out a sigh as he gets comfortable next to Hoseok, his chopsticks already loaded with meat as he says, "Y/n is working on another proposal." 

"Ah," Hoseok nods his head as if that explains everything, his reddish-brown hair bobbing along with the motion.

You childishly stick out your tongue, ignoring their laughter as you take a bite of your food. You don't mind their little jabs because you know they're right. You are an overachiever, but that's simply because you like what you do and you take pride in your work. It makes you happy when the ideas you've worked hard on get approved and implemented. 

"I do admire your work ethic, Y/n," Hoseok points out as he stuffs a lettuce wrap full of vegetables into his mouth. "I just don't relate. I'm only here for that sweet, sweet paycheck I get at the end of the month." 

Jungkook gives Hoseok a high-five. 

"Let me guess, you're only here to fund your figurine collection?" You raise an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

"You know me so well," Jungkook shoots you a finger heart, one you quickly redirect in Hoseok's direction with a swipe of your hand.

Jungkook lets out an affronted gasp as Hoseok snatches it up, clutching his hand to his chest as he mutters, "That's so mean. I'm never going to give you another finger heart ever again."

"That's fine by me, keep them for your waifus," You bicker back. 

Jungkook ducks as Hoseok laughs, the deer hybrid's antlers getting dangerously close to his face as Hoseok leans to the side. There's a reason you tend to sit across from Hoseok and not next to him - your reflexes aren't as good as Jungkook's. 

Hoseok's giggles taper off into an amused expression as he looks towards the cafeteria entrance, "Hm, there's certainly one person in this company that can relate to your ambitious nature."

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes immediately locking on to the person he was referring to. The other employees in the cafeteria part like the red sea as Park Jimin makes his way through the room, their expressions awed as they take in the hybrid's dashing looks. Today, Jimin's deep dark blue hair is swept to the side, revealing his unblemished skin and pretty features. His large wings are folded behind his back, the blue feathers showing off their purple tint whenever the sun hits them just right. All that to say, you think the most striking part about Jimin might be his violet-colored eyes. There's something about the color that just makes his gaze feel so intense – captivating, almost. 

"Come to think of it, the two of you would be perfect for each other!" 

Your attention snaps back to Hoseok so fast you hear something in your neck pop. You scowl at him, kicking his shin under the table as you hiss, "Do you secretly hate me or something? Don't ever suggest something like that again."

Hoseok throws his hands up in the air, confused.

"I'm sorry? I just figured you might enjoy being workaholics together, gods know Park is just as bad as you are."

"Hyung," Jungkook shakes his head, "Trust me, you do not want to see the two of them together in the same room. Just based on the tone of the emails they exchanged last year during a project, it's obvious they're not compatible. At all. I thought Y/n was going to break her keyboard in two with how hard she was hitting the keys every time she had to reply to him." 

The reminder makes you huff, your chopstick stabbing into a piece of pork belly with vengeance. You had tried to be courteous at first, to collaborate with him in a friendly manner fit for work, but it hadn't taken many exchanges before you realized that Park Jimin didn't deserve that. His emails oozed with cockiness and he always presented his ideas as if they were something you had already agreed on, instead of something to be considered. What you detested the most about that project was that Jimin's proposal was eventually picked over yours. The gloating smile he flashed you during the final meeting still makes your blood boil even now. 

"Oh, my bad," Hoseok grimaces, dropping the subject as he takes note of the displeasure on your face.

You sigh, turning to pick up a napkin as your gaze subconsciously seeks out Jimin in the room. He's made his way over to a table with what must be co-workers from his and Hoseok's department, his eyes forming crescent moons as he grins at something that's said.

You don't manage to look away before Jimin glances up and locks eyes with you. His expression turns smug as he catches you staring, his hand reaching out to cover the female employee's fingers that are curled around his arm. He says something that makes her swoon, her loud giggles carrying across the room. 

Your stomach sours as you watch them blatantly flirt, annoyed with how Jimin seems to have no decorum in general when it comes to work. Even the company couples know to keep it professional during office hours. 

You roll your eyes, turning back to watch Jungkook shovel the last of his meal into his mouth. 

With your appetite officially gone, you dap the napkin to your lips, scowling as you say, "I'd rather quit my job than ever work with him again." 

Shortly after lunch is over, you finally put the last touches on your proposal, ready to go hand it in. You look over the pages one final time, making sure they're all in order and neatly lined up before you slip them into a clear folder. Just as you place your hands on your desk, ready to push yourself up from your chair, the door to Mr. Shin's office unexpectedly opens. 

He claps his hands twice to get the attention of the department, the office falling silent as they all turn their eyes and ears to him. 

"Everyone, I require your attention for a moment."

You relax back down into your chair as Mr. Shin walks further into the office, making sure he's visible to all the employees who are scattered around. He glances at his watch, smiling to himself before he explains, "As of last month, it was decided that the company will be testing out a new work system where employees from certain departments will be moved around to promote better in-house collaboration. This will hopefully bring some new and fresh ideas to our projects and we hope to see your creativity and motivation flourish as a result." 

"We will be welcoming the top worker from the development department, one I am sure will bring a valuable new perspective to our team. Mr. Park, if you will–" 

A terrible feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as Park Jimin strides into the room, a perfectly pleasant smile painted on his deceitful face as he takes his place next to Mr. Shin. Jimin takes his time looking around the room, sharing smiles and soft greetings with the workers closest to him. His violet eyes seem to zero in on you when he finds your desk on the other side of the office, the wings behind his back ruffling slightly. You can only assume it means that he's as annoyed as you are to be sharing the same department.

You can feel your lips twisting into a scowl as you glance back at Mr. Shin, the older man smiling so brightly at Jimin you would almost think he hung the sun in the sky every morning.

"Wonderful! As you know, we have a new big project coming up and I previously asked you all to submit your proposals for how we should best promote this new venture. Although I'm sure you've all been working hard on your ideas so far, I can tell you now that you may scratch that task off your list."

You suck in a small breath, your fingers tightening around the folder in your grip. There's no way Mr. Shin has done something so unfair, it must be about something different–

"Mr. Park had a fantastic proposal, one I believe will take this project to new heights, so I would like to announce that his ideas have been chosen and that we are all in good hands with this new addition to our team." 

Your gaze involuntarily flickers back to Jimin as applause breaks out in the office. The bird hybrid doesn't seem to have looked away from you at all and that self-assured, cocky smile blooms on his lips as he no doubt sees the defeat on your face. 

You don't think you've ever despised a person more than you do Park Jimin. 

Jimin's taunting eyes are momentarily blocked from view as Mr. Shin goes to shake his hand, the rest of the office using it as their opportunity to go greet (or flirt with) their new team member. You look away, finding Jungkook staring at you with a slightly horrified expression.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry, I really didn't think that hour would make a difference," He pleads.

"It's not your fault, this must've already been decided a few days ago," You answer, trying your best to keep the annoyance out of your voice. Jungkook didn't do anything wrong after all.

With a sigh, you throw away your proposal, already knowing you're going to have to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home to keep yourself in check. Crying all night over a wasted proposal is out of the question, especially since you know Jimin would probably gloat about it if he ever found out.

"But if you do feel bad, I wouldn't mind something from your stash," You pout.

Jungkook scrambles to open his secret candy drawer, the one he always keeps locked whenever he steps away from his desk. For a man who works out so religiously, he sure has a terrible sweet tooth. 

You give him a soft thank you as he hands you one of your favorite bars of chocolate.

You sink in your chair, biting into the bar in hopes that the sweet taste will overpower some of the bitterness coating your tongue as you hear Jimin's airy laughter fill the room, the hybrid already more at home than you've ever felt in this department.

Tapping your foot, you internally groan over how slow the office printer is spitting out your papers. 

Your day already got off on the wrong foot. Turns out that drinking a whole bottle of wine by yourself was a bad idea on a weekday and it was with a splitting headache that you had to get dressed in a rush and sprint to get to your commute on time. With no time left for coffee before having to clock in, you've been left to nurse your pounding head down to a dull ache with just some water and aspirin graciously provided to you by Jungkook.

Safe to say, you're not having a good time today.  

So, it comes as no surprise that the printer suddenly decides to jam, the machine whirling loudly as it tries to unclog the stuck paper.

"Fuck, you have to be kidding me," You curse under your breath as you give the machine a frustrated kick. Could your day get any worse?

"Careful, Y/n, or I might have to report you to HR for destruction of property."

The sound of Park Jimin's voice right behind you makes you jump, your surprise causing you to whirl around so fast your own feet can't keep up. Jimin grabs your arm as you stumble back, his hold just enough to keep you from crashing right into the printer.

"Shit, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?" 

It's the genuine worry in Jimin's voice that makes you glance at his face, his delicate features twisted with concern as he looks you over. You find yourself a little dumbstruck seeing Jimin up close for the first time, the words not leaving your mouth as you take all of him in. His violet eyes feel endless as you look into them, the darker hues around his iris creating an absolutely mesmerizing color. As Jimin shifts his weight, you notice for the first time that there are a few scattered feathers slicked back with the rest of his hair. The texture is just slightly noticeable nestled between his blue locks, the color just as deep as his wings. 

It's the sound of hushed murmurs that remind you of where you are, your arm still securely held in Jimin's warm grip. It's impossible to glance over Jimin's shoulder with how high the curve of his wings are, but a quick look around them confirms that you're being watched by two female employees. The pair of them have been following Jimin around all day, disrupting your workflow with their high-pitched giggles whenever he spared them an ounce of attention.

It's obvious that they're not happy that Jimin is talking to you and not them. So yes, it turns out that your day could, in fact, get worse. You have no intention of attracting their ire and certainly not because of Park Jimin. 

"I'm fine," You reply, shaking off his hand, "I'll go call IT for help." 

Jimin's feathers rustle uneasily as you move to walk back to your desk, his gaze traveling between you and the printer before his face suddenly lights up. 

"There's no need for that, Y/n, I'll fix it for you."

The cocky smile he sends you way makes a shiver travel down your spine, the spot on your arm still warm from where he held it. To Jimin's credit, he does seem to know what he's doing. It only takes a minute of him opening a panel before the printer stops complaining and whirls back to life, the rest of your papers slowly being pumped out onto the tray at the other end. 

Jimin dusts his hand off, smiling proudly as he says, "There you go." 

You collect your papers as the last one gets spit out, very aware that Jimin hasn't made a move to go back to his desk yet. You turn to face him, sighing internally as you see the expectant look on his face.

"... Thank you," You tersely say. 

Jimin's chest seems to puff out a little at that. His expression turns smug as he leans in a little closer, the tone of his voice flirtatious as he asks, "If you're feeling thankful, maybe you can buy me lunch? I would be more than happy to accept." 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, you should've known that his ulterior motive would be to humiliate you more. You'd bring him to lunch and then what? He would probably talk your ear off about how much better he is and how his proposal was picked over yours – that he's more qualified for your job than you are.

You give him an unimpressed look back, gesturing to the two whispering employees as you say, "I'll pass. It seems your fan club is waiting for you and more than willing to buy you all the food your heart desires." 

Walking off before Jimin can reply, you ignore the dirty looks the women send you as you pass them by, your sights set on your desk. 

It turns out that today might be a perfect day for checking out that café Jungkook found on the other side of town, after all. 

With each passing day, you're becoming more and more confident that the universe is out to get you. 

It's only been a week since Jimin was transferred to your department but somehow, it has felt like a year. The hybrid is always within your line of sight and the gaggle of people following him around are really starting to disrupt your work and get on your nerves. Not even Jungkook's gentle singing is enough to drown out the constant hushed gossip and giggles echoing across the floor anymore.

You sink into your chair with a sigh, vexed by how you couldn't even escape Jimin's presence in the bathroom. The other women washing their hands and touching up their makeup couldn't stop gushing about how handsome and sweet and utterly kind he was – you almost felt a little bad that they had been so fooled by his faux persona.

Cunning and infuriating would be much more fitting adjectives to describe him with. 

"I think you got an email earlier," Jungkook mumbles, his eyes set on his computer screen. His brows are furrowed with concentration as he types out his workshop request. It seems that with Mr. Shin's increasingly happy mood now that Jimin's around, Jungkook has decided he might as well try to get it approved.

"Thanks."

You click on the blinking icon at the corner of your screen, and a tiny flash of hope surges through you as you notice the sender. Maybe Mr. Shin changed his mind about Jimin's proposal, or maybe he has something else for you to work on, something that will take you far, far away from the office–

Disbelief quickly crushes that sliver of hope as you read through Mr. Shin's email. He wants you to help Jimin. Apparently, some of the preliminary ideas you submitted to your supervisor ahead of your proposal would be a great asset to the new project, and Mr. Shin believes that sharing them with Jimin will strengthen the department's teamwork. 

Grinding your teeth, you find the old files and send them to print, holding yourself back from writing an unsavory reply that would most definitely get you fired. You can't believe you're being asked to help the enemy, the same man who snubbed you of the chance to even hand in your proposal in the first place. 

"I don't want to interact with him," You groan, rubbing your forehead. 

"Who?" Jungkook asks.

"Who do you think?" You deadpan, giving his chair a light kick.

"Well–" Jungkook lifts his glance away from his screen, craning his neck to peer over the divider. "He's not at this desk right now so if you hurry, you won't have to talk to him at all." 

You didn't notice it before, but the office has been suspiciously quiet for the past ten minutes, completely void of the hushed giggles that seem to accompany Jimin. Following Jungkook's lead, you slowly get out of your seat, glancing around the floor to make sure the hybrid is nowhere in sight.

Finding everything clear, you hurry over to the printer, thankful that it has decided to cooperate for once. Grabbing your papers, you beeline for Jimin's desk, hoping to drop them off and get out of there as quickly as possible. Just as you're about to slam the papers down and be done with it, the state of Jimin's desk freezes you in your tracks.

Everything is blue. All the supplies that could possibly be personalized – his pens, sticky notes, keyboard, mouse, even a small potted plant – are all in varying shades of blue. You can only deduce that it's a hybrid thing, something that has to do with his specific species. Or, well, maybe he just really likes blue. Either way, it's certainly not what you were expecting. 

It's the ding of the elevator announcing its arrival that snaps you back into motion, the sound of flirty laughter carrying into the office as its doors begin to open. You hastily leave the files on the side of his desk, careful not to disturb the placement of his things before scurrying back to your side of the department floor. You take your seat just as Jimin waltzes back into the office, the usual group of women and men following him around. 

"You'd think he was a god or something," You roll your eyes.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, way too nonchalant as he says, "I mean, he is handsome enough to be one." 

You turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow as you say, "Jeon Jungkook, did you just compliment the enemy?"

Jungkook gives you a sheepish smile in return, flicking the ends of his hair as he replies, "Beauty recognizes beauty, Y/n, it can't be helped." 

"You're right," You smile, all sweet, "I guess it also can't be helped that I now only have one friend in this company. But since Hoseok doesn't enjoy meat, I guess I'll just how to throw out all of the delicious cuts I got for our monthly dinner tomorrow – what a shame."

"Wait, Y/n!–" Jungkook scrambles in his chair, dragging himself closer to your desk. "I was just joking, you know that right? Please don't throw away the meat." 

You stare him down for a second, narrowing your eyes before turning back to your screen. "We'll see."

Despite your less-than-great eyesight, even you know that Jungkook is right. It pains you to admit it, but Jimin is beautiful. Even so, Jungkook should know not to praise that handsome, winged demon right in front of you.

So, you ignore Jungkook's puppy eyes in favor of your work, giving him a taste of the betrayal you just felt. You can never feign being upset with him for long but ten minutes?

That you can do.

Though, you suppose you should have known that Jungkook wouldn't let you get away with threatening his precious meat. 

"Jungkook–"

You roll your eyes as Jungkook's pout deepens, his head turning away from you dramatically.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'll never joke around about pork belly ever again."

"Do you promise?" He huffs. 

Jungkook only turns to look at you once you promise that yes, you'll never do something like that ever again. His sunny demeanor is back the moment the words leave your lips, proving once again that you were right when you introduced him to Hoseok as a master manipulator. It's impossible to not feel like a monster when those doe eyes are staring at you with all the sadness in the world. 

You slowly begin to pack up your things as Jungkook chatters away about a new anime he's found, doing your usual steps as you log off and power down your computer. Just as you're about to clock out for the day, you hear your name being called from the other side of the floor. Getting out of your seat, you see Mr. Shin waving you over to his office, signaling that he wants to talk to you. 

"You should go ahead," You tell Jungkook as you leave your packed bag and coat at your desk. "I don't know how long this is going to take but I'll text you once I'm done."

"I'm holding you to that!" Jungkook wags his finger. 

You wave Jungkook goodbye for the day as you cross the floor, taking a deep breath to calm your sudden nerves. As you reach Mr. Shin's office, you softly clear your throat, pulling on your clothes to make sure you look presentable before knocking on his door. 

"Come in." 

You open the door as you hear Mr. Shin's muffled voice telling you to enter, the pleasant smile on your face faltering just the slightest as you notice that Park Jimin is already present.

"Sir, you called for me?"

Mr. Shin waves you closer to his desk, gesturing for you to take the seat next to Jimin. You keep your eyes forward, not daring to look at the hybrid lest you accidentally pull a face.

"Ah yes, it's about the new project. We reviewed the suggestions you proposed and decided that they would complement Park's ideas very well. With the spirit of department teamwork in mind, Mr. Park proposed that you would both work together on this project, sharing the responsibility."

"Oh, that's.." You trail off, not quite sure what to say. This was not what you envisioned when you entered the room.

You turn your head to look at Jimin, the bird hybrid sporting an unreadable expression. You can't tell if he's upset with the news or not – you can't imagine Park would be thrilled to be forced to spend time with you – but wait, did your supervisor say that–

"You asked for me?"

"Of course," Jimin nods, "It wouldn't be right to use your ideas without you on the team."

There's no trace of the usual cockiness you've come to associate with Jimin, nor any of that flirty demeanor. To your surprise, Jimin appears to be fully serious for once. 

"Right," You reply, at a loss for words. This was a twist you had not seen coming. 

"So, what do you say Miss Y/n? Would you like to collaborate with Mr. Park on this project?"

Frankly, working with Jimin is the last thing you want to do. But the fact that your ideas will be implemented in the project no matter if you're there to take credit for it or not, is what convinces you to jump head first into what's surely going to become your own personal hell for the next few months. 

You spare Jimin another glance, plastering on your best smile as you inform Mr. Shin that,

"I would love to, thank you for giving me this opportunity." 

The bird hybrid's chest puffs out minutely at your agreement, that sly smile returning to his lips.

You have no doubt that he has an ulterior motive for including you in his project. But no matter what Jimin decides to throw at you – you sure as hell won't be going down without a fight. 

a/n: welcome to this silly little fic! i've been wanting to write something more lighthearted for a while so this felt like the perfect story to do just that 💖 will the mc and jimin survive being stuck together for a project?? only time will tell (actually, you'll know in a few weeks lol)!

i would love to hear your thoughts so far and reblogs are very much appreciated 💖

[oporotheca]

Parental Guidance

pairings: bf!Geto x f!Reader synopsis: called into your daughters' school for an impromptu conference, you and your boyfriend find yourselves in the principal's office... unfortunately, suguru seems all but incapable of taking the situation seriously, and with how distracting he looks in that button down of his, you aren't much better off. aka - suguru geto puts the petty in pretty, and who are you to fault him for that? tags: MDNI, somewhat suggestive, low-key dilf!Suguru, domesticity, silliness, family fluff, suguru is rude af to non-sorcerers, mimi and nana are adorable, reader is obsessed with her man lol notes: divider by @thecutestgrotto

"I'm sorry, what?"

You uttered tiredly, arm clutching a thin blanket to your bare chest as you sat up, holding the flip phone that had so rudely awakened you mere minutes ago to your ear.

The one morning you had finally relented to your boyfriend and slept in and this is the wake up call you received?

You vastly preferred being trampled by your girls if this was the alternative...

"Your daughter's, ma'am? This is the correct contact for the Geto residence, is it not?"

At that, you sat up a little straighter, holding the phone closer against your ear as you replied.

"Yes, that's right..."

You said in a slightly stiff fashion,

"But you mentioned something about an expulsion?"

Your tone was a bit incredulous, and you couldn't help but feel you were missing something.

"A meeting ma'am, regarding measures that can be taken to avoid expulsion in the case of the girls..."

You were completely upright now, leaning your head back against the head board as you sighed.

Motherhood was not for the weak.

"I didn't realize that expulsion was being considered. You've spoken to my husband about this?"

There was a tension laden silence on the other line before the poor woman, who you could only assume was the local elementary school's receptionist, gave a sigh.

"I don't believe so, ma'am, but our records note that we've sent quite a few letters home..."

At that, you uttered a frustrated sigh, head falling into the palm of your unoccupied hand as you silently cursed your love's tendency to throw out any mail that came from sources he deemed unimportant.

This was far from the first time such a habit had caused you a headache.

"Ah, that must be where the confusion is coming from"

You muttered in response, trying to hide your obvious disdain for the situation at hand,

"We've been having issues receiving our mail for a few months now. My apologies."

The woman on the other end hummed, clearly having no personal stake in whether or not you received adequate warnings about your daughters' behaviors.

As you spoke, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feet sliding into your slippers before you stood, shoulder keeping the cell phone pressed firmly to your ear even as you began flipping through the hangars in your closet to find a blouse.

"When did you say the principal was hoping to have this meeting?"

You asked, somehow already knowing the answer before it even passed the woman's lips,

"I believe he cleared his lunch schedule in hopes you and your husband might be able to make it today following an altercation involving your girls an hour ago, ma'am."

Pulling a suitable outfit from your closet, you moved to hold your phone with your hand once more, sighing as you checked the time on the watch that sat upon your bedside table.

Suguru would have just started "working" for the day, but really that was no matter.

"So noon then?"

You asked, simply nodding to yourself when the woman on the other end of the line made a noise in confirmation.

"My husband and I will be there."

And with that, you hung up before dialing a number so familiar that you didn't even have to use speed dial to make the call.

And like the wise man he was, your boyfriend (husband to anyone else who asked, of course) answered on the second ring.

-------------------------------------------

"Is this truly necessary, my love? I think our girls would have mentioned if there was a real issue at school..."

Suguru muttered as he adjusted the cuff of his rolled-up sleeve, his eyes flicking up briefly to meet your own before they returned to the road in front of him.

You sighed.

"Not if they're getting into trouble. Would you have told on yourself for the things you knew you could have otherwise gotten away with as a child?"

At that, your boyfriend simply hummed, his eyes gleaming with something that reminded you distantly of mischief as he maneuvered the black sedan the two of you shared into a spot labelled 'parent parking'.

"No,"

He began, forearm muscles flexing ever so slightly as he shifted the car into park and turned to look at you properly, a familiar smirk playing about his lips.

"I found that there were some things my parents preferred to leave unknown."

And as you rolled your eyes at his comment, Suguru reached over, unbuckling your seat belt the way he always did before doing the same to his own.

And, as per usual, when he stepped out of the car you took the few moments available before he reached your side to admire him, the way his purple eyes looked in the full sunlight, the way his hair fell alluringly upon his shoulders, the way his fake wedding ring looked on his long and slender finger...

You couldn't help but envy the door handle when he wrapped four of them around it a few moments later.

And when he looked down at you with a particularly smug expression, you didn't even try to defend yourself.

You simply fixed him with a pretty little grin, shrugged your shoulders, and reached for the hand he'd offered you.

-------------------------------------------

"Well, let me begin by saying that even in spite of the circumstances, it is lovely to meet you both."

The principal said politely, though you didn't miss the scrutiny in his gaze as it passed over the two of you.

But really, that was to be expected.

After all, you were only twenty, and with two eight-year-old daughters, a fake marriage could only do so much for the obvious youthfulness both you and your boyfriend possessed.

"Likewise, Principal Akage."

Suguru replied smoothly, using that same tone that most mothers did when they spoke to strangers on the phone, his voice somehow still dangerously low even in spite of being pitched upward with a false politeness...

Every word he spoke and movement he made some sharp yet subtle act of intimidation and superciliousness that you were certain came as naturally to your love as breathing after several years of necessity.

Because, as loathe as he may have been to admit it, elementally, you were both ducks out of water almost anywhere you went,

And if the world was going to be so unyielding, then Suguru found he could be far more so with very little effort indeed.

The principal gave a courteous hum in reply to your boyfriend's words before speaking up once again, clearly more than a little eager to get on to the topic at hand.

Perhaps his cancelled lunch had something to do with that, but who was to say?

"Well, in any case, in regard to Mimiko and Nanako-"

"Lovely girls, aren't they?"

Suguru all but purred, cutting the principal off with a grin so cat-like that you had half a mind to check his hair for a well camouflaged pair of ears.

You watched as the principal bristled slightly, clearing his throat with a volume that was clearly meant to convey his annoyance (a fact which only caused Suguru's grin to grow almost imperceptibly wider),

"Quite."

The man said tersely,

"Although, I'm afraid this meeting hasn't been arranged with that particular topic in mind."

In reply, your boyfriend sighed histrionically, his expression schooled into one of what you knew to be feigned sorrow as he flicked a few inky black strands over his shoulder, allowing them to join many of the others flowing down his back like some otherworldly waterfall.

And you could only just manage to hide your amusement as he spoke.

"It never is, is it?"

He asked wistfully, as if deeply disheartened by the lack of supposedly deserved recognition for the little girls the two of you had raised.

And, of course, you knew it was all an act, Suguru's impish game of mockery that he liked to play with the non-sorcerers he was forced to interact with, but to the man sitting before you, it was an immensely unexpected and anxiety-inducing reaction indeed - no one liked dealing with an upset parent, after all.

But, of course, your love wasn't nearly done yet.

"I mean, honestly, how many letters have you bothered to send home detailing their positive exploits at school hmm? Perhaps the lack of proper acknowledgement for their achievement paired with the deluge of judgement has something to do with whatever supposed behaviors they've been exhibiting."

And truth be told, you nearly scoffed at that, because both you and Suguru knew full well that the last thing either of your girls cared about was praise from those their father would call monkeys.

But, of course, there was not a soul in the world present besides the two of you that knew that, so the charade carried on.

And at this point, Principal Akage looked utterly bewildered.

"I'm sorry sir, but 'supposed behaviors'? Do either of you have any awareness of the true severity of your daughters' actions?"

He asked incredulously, and you could tell that Suguru was getting a kick out of how exasperated the man already seemed to be.

"Not a clue."

He said nonchalantly, inspecting his fingernails before looking back up at the administrator with an irritatingly polite smile playing about his far too beautiful features.

"But I'm sure you'll happily inform us."

And with a sharp roll of his eyes and a mutter beneath his breath that had you shooting a glare at your boyfriend for perhaps taking things too far, Principal Akage did just that, hands already having opened the manila file that had been sitting closed upon his desk when you'd first arrived.

"Well, first of all, the girls seem to have what can only be referred to as a name calling issue,"

He began, regarding you both with a serious look that you did your best to return, although you weren't sure if it did much to counteract your love's persistently infuriating grin that he had yet to replace with a different expression.

That said, based on the way the man sighed before he continued, you highly doubted it.

"I have received a multitude of reports stating that they've been sent out of the classroom and even to the counselor's office after referring to other students as some sort of primate."

He said incredulously, eyes searching the file for the specific phrase he was looking for as you bit back a groan and Suguru tried to hide his now far too obvious amusement behind his hand.

You kicked at him beneath your chairs, but it did little to help, especially not when he brought those mischievous eyes to yours, sending you a wink that made your traitorous knees go weak.

But then, after a few seconds of time to recover from your boyfriend's infuriatingly attractive face, you sighed before speaking up, voice colored with an air of exasperation as you did so.

"Is the insult you're referring to perhaps, 'monkey'?"

And at that, the Principal Akage's eyes shot to yours, brow raising as he nodded, finally free to stop aimlessly searching the document for the correct term.

"Yes, I believe that's right."

He replied stiffly, adjusting his seated position so his posture seemed a bit less slouched before continuing,

"I can assume you've both heard this term used at home then?"

And before you could try to reply in any manner that even dared to convey honesty or seriousness, Suguru was already talking.

"Oh, certainly."

He said with a casualness that could only denote apathy,

"Or, at least the girls have. I'm not sure I've ever heard them use it very much themselves..."

And honestly, that, in part, was true.

After all, you had a zero tolerance policy for the use of that word for those under eighteen, and a somehow even lower tolerance policy for the excessive use of it over eighteen.

(Not that it ever truly made all that much of a difference).

Upon hearing Suguru's words though, the man sitting before you became increasingly interested in what he had to say.

"Do you mean to tell me that the girls hear that word used as an insult often while at home?"

At that, your boyfriend shrugged, his casual attitude persisting even in the face of the principal's increasingly obvious concern.

"I suppose you could say that."

He explained, gaze flickering back toward his fingernails, which had been re-painted by the girls last night to match the deep purple of his eyes.

The man in front of you both looked shocked at his indifference toward the situation at hand and the subtle accusations he had tossed your way, the look on his face making it apparent that he wasn't entirely convinced that Suguru understood what it truly was that he was trying to say...

And while you were completely certain that he did, you weren't about to waste your breath saying so.

Thus, Principal Akage seemed to think it best that he make his concerns abundantly clear.

"Am I to believe then, Mr. and Mrs. Geto, that the girls are hearing insults like this being used in their home?"

And at that, Suguru had the good grace to look appalled (an expression which, upon his face, you found to be rather entertaining indeed, even if it was feigned).

"As in used by myself and my wife?"

He scoffed then, that look of consternation morphing into one of antipathy, as if he were revolted at the mere consideration of the words he'd just spoken...

The irony was not lost on you.

"Certainly not."

He expressed staunchly, one strong, lithe arm moving to cross over the other against his chest as he leaned back slightly in his chair, giving you a generous view of his trim waist, which was only accentuated by his familiarly high-waisted pants...

And for a moment, the only thought you could muster was God bless whoever had introduced him to that particular style of bottoms...

Until you were brought back to reality by your love's voice once more, hoping against hope that the stern man sitting across from you hadn't noticed your shameless staring at your own partner.

"I believe they've heard it often on some television program that they're allowed to watch on the weekends. The main antagonists are these abhorrent little monkey creatures, wretched things really. They must have gotten it from there."

And just when you were about to shoot Suguru a look of complete and utter disbelief at his ridiculous excuse for your daughters' language, the principal said something that had you taking pause immediately, brows furrowing with something akin to incredulity.

"Well, I can't say that I'm surprised by your apparent negligence, as disappointing as it may be. Many staff here have claimed to harbor concerns of your child rearing capabilities since the date of your first parent-teacher conference, and it's safe to say now that I can see why."

And suddenly, that amused glint that had remained so persistent in your boyfriend's eye disappeared entirely, replaced with a hardness that betrayed his anger even as he kept that sickeningly sweet (and now occasionally twitching) smile painted on his pretty face.

"Excuse me?"

He asked rigidly, having abandoned every bit of that saccharine tone from before, leaving only his usual baritone voice in it's wake, low, smooth, and ever so slightly musing in a way that seemed perpetually capable of sending subtle shivers down your spine.

His head tilted then as he spoke, black strands spilling over the white fabric adorning his left shoulder like thick, stygian oil spreading out on cold water.

Still, if the principal caught on to the sudden shift in Suguru's demeanor, he did not react to it.

"Of course, I believe wholeheartedly that the two of you are doing your best."

He explained calmly, tone having shifted to something far more condescending than before, as if he were perhaps talking to students rather than the fully grown adults who sat before him.

"I imagine that things must be quite difficult for you all, what with the two of you clearly being so young..."

He trailed off, and you didn't miss the judgemental gaze that he passed over you as he did so.

Because although he didn't know your exact ages, it was apparent, at least, that the two of you were far too young to have had the girls at what he would have deemed an appropriate age.

"But that doesn't make it acceptable for you both to cut corners with raising these children. Excessive access to television has been proven to-"

"And at what point during this discussion did I give you the impression that their access to such a thing was excessive?"

Suguru asked suddenly, cutting the man off with very little regard for whatever he was about to say next.

And at that, the principal seemed to finally catch on to just how incensed your boyfriend had become in the little time since he had started spewing his baseless accusations.

He was sitting up straight in his chair now, head still tilted almost as if he were a parent speaking to their child, eyes darkened with a quiet rage that reminded you distantly of a rolling thunderstorm.

That said, his new position didn't last long once Principal Akage actually looked up at him.

No, at that point, your love took it upon himself to brace his forearms upon his thighs before leaning against them, bringing his upper body closer to the older man sitting at the desk in front of you both in a manner that could only be seen as an act of intimidation.

And, judging by the principal's suddenly paling complexion, a successful one at that.

"W-well..."

He began, seeming to steel himself a bit before continuing,

"That can be inferred based off of the fact that they're learning so much from a mere program. It seems highly unlikely to me that with a reasonable amount of TV consumption the girls would be-"

"And it seems highly unlikely to me that you would hurl such blatant accusations of negligence at any other parent in this school with girls the same age as ours."

Suguru jeered before the man could even finish, cold eyes leveling him with a glare as he leaned forward slightly further, drawing your attention briefly to the way his arms flexed in his button up shirt, the way his long, slender fingers twitched slightly as he fought the urge to clench them into fists, and the way the fabric of his pants perfectly followed and outlined the curve of his waist and the spread of his thighs as he continued on with his assumed position.

And for a moment, you understood poor Principal Akage's dilemma completely.

After all, who in their right mind would take a look at the devastatingly attractive man sitting beside you and think he could be the kind and doting father you and your family claimed him to be?

You were drawn out of your thoughts though, when the man sitting on the other side of the desk began to sputter as if in disbelief of your boyfriend's words.

"I would levy these accusations against any that I deemed deserving of them, Mr. Geto, and I can assure you, from what I have seen, you and your wife are both more than deserving."

He fumed, and you could all but see Suguru's blood boiling in his veins in response.

There was little he loathed more than being talked down to by a non-sorcerer, after all.

"Do you know that to be true, Principal Akage?"

He ground out through clenched teeth, hauntingly polite smile still adorning his face as he spoke.

"Or have you just made assumptions based off of the way we look?"

And at that, the principal scoffed, eyes rolling as he waved the file still in his hand, as if hoping to remind you and your love of why you were present at this meeting in the first place.

"The behaviors of your daughters alone give me plenty of reason to suspect less than stellar parenting on both of your parts. Name calling, hair pulling, biting, threatening, these are all things Nanako and Mimiko do on a weekly basis in their classrooms, and I find it hard to believe that these actions could originate anywhere else but inside of the home you've raised them in."

This time though, instead of speaking or leaning even further forward to emphasize his point, Suguru just shook his head and laughed.

It was a mostly mirthless and slightly ominous sound, and you quickly knew why once it came to an end.

"It's funny you should say that, Principal, because what you fail to realize is that my girls do not struggle with even one of these behaviors outside of your school."

Suguru said with a half feigned amusement, his previously polite smile now much closer to that cat-like grin from before.

"There is no name calling in my house, no biting, no threatening, no hair pulling, because my girls know better than to show disrespect to those who aren't deserving of it."

He all but hissed, hands giving up their efforts to remain relaxed as his fingers curled into fists, the metal of his fake ring glowing in the yellowy lighting of the office the three of you were sat in.

Principal Akage seemed to flounder for a few moments at your boyfriend's words, before finally, he found his voice again.

"Are you attempting to place the blame for Mimiko and Nanako's incorrigible behaviors on us?"

He asked incredulously, clearly not taking kindly to the accusation.

"We are a fine and proud institution of primary education, Mr. Geto, and I don't think it appropriate for you to use us as a scapegoat for your poor parenting skills. I-"

And at that, you'd had enough, standing abruptly and leveling the principal with a glare so harsh you could have sworn you saw him flinch backwards when he caught sight of it.

"That is quite enough, thank you, sir."

You said sternly, gaze unwavering as you spoke.

"I refuse to sit here and let you insult us like this when we all know you would never use so little decorum with parents you properly respected."

And although Akage opened his mouth as if to argue with this, you didn't give him the opportunity to speak.

"And on top of that, how nonchalantly you've hurled insult after insult about parenting at my husband of all people, who spends hours upon hours each day entertaining and educating his daughters, is deplorable."

You shook your head as if in disbelief of the situation at hand.

"I cannot believe how many weeks I spent convincing him that this school would help our daughters reach their truest potentials in their education, only to then sit here two years in being told that we are to blame for behaviors they seem to only engage in when they're within the boundaries of your institution. Would you have jumped to such conclusions with parents you believed to be worthy of your respect, Principal Akage? Would you have spoken of their daughters with such contempt right in front of their guardian's faces as you've done so readily with us?"

You scoffed then, reaching for your boyfriend's hand and tugging him up to stand alongside you, ever appreciative of the way he never failed to give into your every whim, regardless of the fact that you could never truly make him do anything.

"Evidently, I made the wrong decision when I decided it would be best to enroll Mimiko and Nanako here. We will be taking them home with us immediately, and they will not be returning. Clearly, my husband was right to believe alternative schooling was the proper choice all along. You have let my family down immeasurably today, Principal."

And with that, you stalked your way out of the man's office and into the main area, where you promptly insisted the secretary inform you of where your daughters were at that time.

And, once that information had been procured, you were off again, walking toward their second grade classroom with a huff, Suguru chuckling amusedly from where he was trailing ever so slightly behind you, hands in his pockets.

"You know that the girls are almost certainly far less innocent here than we've made them out to be, right?"

He all but drawled, coming to walk alongside you as you rolled your eyes in response, glancing up at him with a sigh that told him everything he needed to know before you even spoke.

"Of course I do. I just couldn't go another second trapped in that office with that sorry excuse for a man. He should be ashamed of himself, treating us and the girls like that"

You muttered, scoffing slightly as you crossed your arms over your chest before continuing with a mumble.

"Now lets just get the girls already before I change my mind."

The two of you walked toward the location of the girls' homeroom classroom in silence after that, Suguru's hand pressed comfortingly to your back as you finally arrived and knocked on the door.

You recognized their teacher when she answered, but it was clear from the furrow to her brow that she wasn't entirely certain of who you and your boyfriend were.

And it wasn't exactly surprising, what with the lack of resemblance between the two of you and your adopted girls, but even still, you felt a wave of exasperation wash over you.

The questioning, while somewhat understandable, was seemingly endless, and having to prove yourself time and time again had long since taken a toll on your patience with the subject.

Still, you opened your mouth to start that same song and dance as always.

"Hi Miss Shimizu. We're here for-"

"Mama!"

"Papa!"

Two distinct little voices called out excitedly at virtually the same moment, familiar sets of footsteps rushing over to where their teacher stood before they were peering out from the left and right sides of her hips.

And suddenly, it didn't matter that you had to prove your relation to the girls at nearly ever turn...

Because clearly, they knew exactly who you were to them.

And that was all you really needed. -------------------------------------------

"Mama, can we get ice cream?"

Mimiko asked about ten minutes later as you and Suguru each held one of her hands, swinging her between you both through the school's empty hallways while Nanako sat proudly atop her father's shoulders, one hand on the crown of his head while the other reached up in an attempt to touch the ceiling.

You looked between the two of them for a moment, taking in the gleeful and eager expressions that played about their far too cute faces, trying not to make it too obvious that you would give them just about anything they could ever ask for in that moment.

Because right there beside you were your girls, your sweet Mimiko and Nanako, who had come to you so fearful and distrusting, and now tackled you in hugs to wake you up in the mornings, clung to your legs until you agreed to take them on errands, and snuggled up in your bed beside you whenever your boyfriend was away from home (and sometimes even when he wasn't despite the fact that you all knew well that the bed was far too small for such a thing).

If you loved your family anymore, you were almost certain your heart would burst.

So, of course, the answer to their question was obvious.

"Ask your father."

You said playfully, watching as Suguru sent a look of clearly feigned exasperation your way just as the girls began their usual chorus of,

"Papaaaa~!"

Though, it was cut short by his quick reply.

"Of course we can."

And the celebratory shouts that came in reply were worth every second of the exhausting evening the two of you would doubtless have after giving your daughters so much sugar.

[hotchnerwrites]

Hiii🤍

Can you write something where Hotchner is obsessed with the reader but in a good way, like he can't keep his hands off of her???🥹maybe if you feel comfortable you can put a situation where he feels a little jealous,I love it so much when men are possessive in a gentle way with their partner!!!

Take this only if you feel comfortable, I send you my love!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SFW, touchy obsessed Hotch, jealous Hotch, quiet intimate moments, domestic fluff ehehehe, no use of (y/n), reader is referred to as girlfriend/wife a couple times, established!relationship

A/N: My dear Anon, I am so sorry for the wait. I hope that this will be worth it. Some crazy stuff was happening in my family and I had to fly out of town last minute. I started this in my Notes app, and here we are, three versions later. I loved this request so much, I always jump at the chance to write fluff (or angst!). I had such a fun time writing. Oh how I wish Hotch was real :') Anyways, I really hope you like it! Enjoy reading 🤍

PS. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and consider this my gift to you <3 Sending all of you all my love. Requests are open :) Send me stuff!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Smart, stoic Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. One of the BAU’s best profilers. One of the best prosecutors Washington D.C. has ever seen. Permanent frown on his face and an impenetrable emotional wall, he was not known to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was a persona he had spent several years cultivating. But they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t know how he was around you, how he looked at you. It wasn’t just that— it was the way he moved around you, the quiet insistence that you were always close, always near.

You first realised how present Hotch was at the FBI’s annual Christmas gala. It was so subtle in the beginning, the way Aaron threaded through the room with you, a steady hand on your back, palm warm against your skin. It was the kind of touch that was imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But you felt it the entire night, four and a half hours in total. He didn’t let go of you once.

Despite this being the first formal event that you attended with Aaron, you never once felt anxious navigating the sea of handshakes and pleasantries. You met at least twenty new faces in under thirty minutes, forgetting names as fast as you learned them. Aaron’s hand was on your waist the entire time, steady and protective, guiding you through conversations, fending off curious coworkers with a soft, almost unnoticeable shift of his body between you and them. It was effortless- he even managed to hold both your drinks in one hand when you passed him something. 

By the end of the night, you realised something. You weren’t just his girlfriend; you were his partner, a quiet and unspoken claim that he did not need to announce.

The second thing that you noticed was the neck massages. It didn’t matter if Hotch had just come home from a week-long case or if it was a lazy Sunday. The moment he found you with your back to him - whether at the kitchen island, curled up with a book in an armchair, or even napping on the couch— he would materialise silently, his large hands moving to the nape of your neck.

It was a gentle pressure, expert fingers kneading the tension in your muscles. This was intimate in a wholesome way. He knew your body better than anyone, maybe even yourself. His palms were calloused and rough, but when they were touching you, it felt like the finest silk on earth. 

When his hands drew delicate circles, your world would fade away in contentment. Sometimes, Aaron would press his lips lightly against your temple. These quiet moments are as precious to you as special nights out. 

The third time was the ‘Lunch Incident’. You laugh about it now, but it’s not lost on you how lucky you are to see this side of Hotch. It was supposed to be a simple lunch drop-off at the office. As you greeted Emily and Derek, Aaron strode over towards you, legs moving so fast you’re sure his brain hadn’t even fully processed his actions. His smile when he saw you wasn’t just a casual ‘hello’ but something deeper, something more felt. And when he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, with that signature intensity, you noticed Agent Anderson nearly dropping his coffee in pure shock. The poor man, having just witnessed Hotch, the ever-professional Hotch, kiss his partner like he had no other care in the world, had gone pale. You couldn’t stop the grin stretching across your face. Hotch didn’t stop looking at you the entire time. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe you were real and that you were his. 

The fourth time, you just knew. It was a ritual, the movie nights. When you settled on the couch, ready for your favourite period film, you already knew how it would go. Ever so meticulous, Aaron would drape your favourite blanket over the two of you. But there was just something about the way he did it. He pulled you to his side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders like he needed you there more than he needed to breathe. And you’d fit yourself under his arm, cosy and safe, while the movie played. But truthfully, it was never the movie that held his attention. It was you. The way you reacted to every scene. The tiny furrow between your brows when something sad happened or the way your eyes sparkled during particularly romantic scenes. Aaron would never say this out loud, but he couldn’t care less about the films you watched. He cared about you. Watching you breathe, tracing circles on your shoulders, memorising the feel of your skin under his touch. He was always watching you, though you never caught him. 

And Hotch never made a big deal about it, but you knew those small touches meant the world to him. He was the profiler, but you noticed his antics too. When you handed him something, his fingers would always brush yours, slow and deliberate. You felt that electric spark dance across your skin each time, like he was quietly staking his claim. You always pretended not to notice, but in truth, you were just as addicted to those touches as he was. The way his hand lingered for a second too long, soft warm spreading from his touch. The kind of touch that made you feel like you were the only two people in the room. 

Honestly, it was getting ridiculous. He set his alarm early every day, just to spend an extra couple of minutes cuddling you. The moment that familiar tune rang out, he’d shift his broad frame, tangle his limbs with yours and pull you closer. Aaron never wanted this to end. So much so that he called in sick a few times, citing your refusal to free him from your clutches as the reason. But you both knew it was because he wanted to feel your hands card through his hair longer as he dozed on your chest. Neither of you said much during times like this. Still groggy from sleep, you both would just bask in each other’s quiet comfort. 

One day, when you were cleaning up his desk, you found it. The secret file. Tucked away in the back of one drawer lay a brown file with your name on it. You really hadn’t meant to snoop, but curiosity overrode manners at that moment. It wasn’t until you opened it that you realised what it exactly was. It was every story you had told Aaron about yourself, and every detail he noticed about you. Likes. Dislikes. Pet peeves. Your dreams. Your favourite songs. The small things—things no one else would have thought to note down, things only someone who really knew you would remember. He’d colour-coded it, as if it was a map of your soul.

You hadn’t meant to look through it, but when you did, a lump formed in your throat. It wasn’t a secret—just his way of keeping you close. And you realised, with a sniffle, that you’d never felt more cherished in your entire life.

When winter would roll around, you realised that despite spending years with this man, you could never quite predict when it would happen. But every time it did, you pretended to protest. Hotch would press his palms under your shirt, claiming that his fingers were frozen. This was always an assault on your senses. “I’m freezing!” you’d yell, but you knew what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to warm his hands. He wanted to feel your skin against his. You never pointed out the fact that his palms were always warm within seconds, that his body was a natural space heater. No, instead, you let him pull you in even closer, shivering as his hands traced light lines up your spine. You didn’t mind it at all.

Bonus

There was only one time that Aaron used his Unit Chief voice around you. It was something he had always been careful to avoid; he hated bringing any aspect of work home with him. But it was warranted that time, he justified. 

He had just stepped away for one second from your side at the local café. The barista had just called out your names, and he had gone to pick up your drinks (black coffee for him, surprise, surprise, and a ridiculously sweet frappé for you). In those few moments that he was gone and you’d been standing alone, staring wistfully at the pastries on display, a man had sidled up to you. He had a patchy ginger beard, and with a reedy voice, he had asked you if he could buy you coffee. In hindsight, the man had been perfectly polite, but Aaron’s blood had boiled. You had a gobsmacked expression on your face as you struggled to respond, and the man had stepped even closer. Aaron quickly snatched up your order and made his way to you. 

“Here’s your drink, honey,” Aaron said, voice low but tone soft. You gratefully accept the distraction as the man swings his head towards Aaron incredulously.

“Excuse me,” he began shrilly, “do you mind?”

Aaron fixed him with a Look. “That’s my wife you’re talking to. Can I help you in any way?” He said coolly. 

The man baulked, muttered a quick apology and scrambled off. 

As you and Aaron leave the café hand-in-hand, you can’t help the smile forming on your face. You tuck your face into Aaron’s bicep to hide your blush. 

Wife. Not girlfriend. Wife.

The sun suddenly shone brighter that day.

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and follows are appreciated! Constructive criticism is welcome :) Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

[seungcheorry]

seokmin isn't that petty or childish. he knows you two have a full adult, functional life and that sometimes things get in between. he can fully understand that.

still, he can't help the pout that's on his lips or how he's frowning or how his arms are crossed, making him look like a toddler.

"i mean...", he says for the nth time. "it could be just a few hours, you know?"

you sigh, adjusting your phone so he can see you clearly. "i know, babe. but i really, really can't. i'm sorry. i promise i'm all yours this weekend."

"but my birthday is tomorrow, not on the weekend", he rolls his eyes, sighing too.

truth be told, seokmin doesn't know why he's so upset about not being able to see you on his birthday. sure, it sucks to not see someone you love and care so deeply, such as your partner, on such an important day - but again, he gets that you have to work. he understands that you can't just move your schedule around; hell, not even him can do it.

but it sucks. it just sucks and he can't help it.

"i'm sorryyyy", you say once again, slightly smiling at his sad face. "you're not even in korea right now, i don't know why you're doing this."

"ya, i'll be there tomorrow morning!", seokmin points a finger at you, holding back his laugh. "YOU could just come and see me at the airport, i can get my manager to sneak you in somehow, and then you can go to your office."

"my boss asked me to come in earlier tomorrow", you shrug.

"okay, so...", he thinks for a bit. "i can go meet you up so we can have lunch together."

"i've packed my lunch already."

"pack one for me too."

"there's not enough food", you shake your head.

seokmin groans. "okay, now you're just being mean. why don't you want to see me~?"

you fake cry, staring up at the ceiling, ready to punch your phone.

"babe, i told you, i'll just be busy..."

"nah, i did something, didn't i? you hate me!"

"i don't hate you, seokmin, i just-"

"then let's at least have dinner tomorrow night, you know mingyu and joshua wouldn't mind you coming."

"SEOKMIN!", you almost scream, making him shut up. "please stop finding a way for us to see each other tomorrow, don't make me tell you i've been planning a surprise party for you since christmas, a party you won't have if you keep annoying me."

and, just like a toddler, his eyes light up.

"oh my god, you did not!", he squeals like a little girl, his eyes and smile wide as they could be. "for real? like, are you really for real right now?"

when you nod, seokmin kicks his feet in the air, throwing his head back.

"baby, you didn't have to! oh my god, i've never had a surprise party before, should i act surprised? should i prank everyone and pretend to pass out? what are you gonna wear? we could match and-"

and so he goes, excited like a toddler - not like a guy who's about to turn 28 years old.

a/n: happy birthday to the light of my life, mr. lee seokmin. may you always he happy, always have this smile of yours, always feel loved and adored. thank you for making me smile and laugh, it means so much to me and my healing heart. i love you, dokyeomie. ❤️🍒

[jobean12-blog]

The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

[aninipanin1]

I love the manager x coaches. Would it be fine if Y/N brings her niece to job and little rascal pretends Y/N is her mom instead?

Niece: "You know my mama?"

Coaches and players: *Having heart attack.*

I'm not sure if it would be too out there or out of character. I just thought it might be funny. Hope you have inspiration 🩷

MAMA?!

Notes: Was legit abt to start the Little Mermaid fic for Chigiri but I suddenly had the urge to write for adult manager cause its been so long since I wrote one lmaooo and this was so cute so I just had to even though I said reqs are closed I JUST HAD TOOOOO

"There you are, Y/n! It's so good to see you!" Your cousin, Eina hugged you tight, patting your back softly. It has been a while since you last saw her due to both your busy lives with you as the manager of Blue Lock and her as a mother of two, as well as taking care of a small family business.

Coming from a family of businessmen and women was definitely not an easy responsibility, and you were just so happy that you did not get involved in the many drama when it came to your family's many businesses.

Eina was your cousin from your father's side and was the only one who did not spite or hated you for not being in the same calibre as your sister and other cousins. You loved her and always viewed her like the older sister you never had.

"Auntie! Auntie!"

You heard the familiar squeal, as you were immediately tackled by a toddler. Groaning in pain, you let out a small chuckle before kneeling on the ground to stare at the cute little girl eye to eye.

"It's been so long, Aina-chan! Look at how much you've grown! How old are you now, hm?"

"I'm this many!" She showed you four fingers, to which you smiled proudly.

"Wow, such a big girl! You're so cute, my little snookledum."

Carrying her in your arms while pretending to snatch her nose away, your cousin finally made you both turn due to her good natured laugh.

"Are you sure you and your boss are fine with it? I can always leave her to a nanny..."

The worried look on her face made you snicker, before shaking your head.

"Oh, of course it is! I wouldn't have said yes. Besides, I think this pretty girl deserves some aunty time for a few days! Whaddya say, my snookledum?"

"Yeah! Aunty time!" She cheered, engulfing you in a warm hug.

"We'll be fine. Worry more about the meetings okay? I'll take care of her as I always do."

"Auntyyyyy...Aina is bored. Let's play I spy!"

The little girl clung onto your arms the moment you both entered the Blue Lock facility where the four year old would be staying for a few days until her mother returned from her business trip in Singapore.

She definitely was a little sunshine, always wanting to play and not even flinching at the sudden change of location. If you were to be honest, in another life, you would want to have Aina's extrovetedness, and maybe then, you'll actuallh start having more friends and become more open when it came to different things.

"Hmm, how about later? It is lunch time, after all. Aren't you hungry, Aina-chan?"

Just as she was about to answer, a loud grumbling was heard from her little tummy which made you laugh.

"Welp, your stomach spoke for you. C'mon, let's eat!"

This went on for a few more days, with the only people who have seen Aina being Ego and Anri, mainly because even though the girl was energetic and an extrovert, she was easy to distract for hours on end. Just give her an interesting toy, and she won't drop it for a second until she realised that her bum hurt from sitting and playing for too long.

You toom advantage of that, leaving her to your office a few times to take care of the players while the rest of your day you will be cooped up inside your room, working and taking care of her at the same time.

However, in the midst of her stay, something else caught Aina's attention other than the toys you gave her.

She was with Anri (who she started calling Aunty too), who watched on from the monitors, overlooking some of the players for Ego while he went out somewhere to do 'something' apparently. Aina grew more attached to Ego than she did with Anri, and that is something most of you noticed. (Although Ego tries to pretend he hates the toddler)

It was probably because they do look eerily alike, with the same straight black hair and eye shape with along with a skinnier build and pale skin. The only exception was Aina taking the classic (e/c) colour everyone from your father's family had

You and Anri will secretly joked about how Ego was the real father and that somehow, the little girl was just swapped at birth or something, but it was all in good fun.

Back to the little girl, Aina looked at all the monitors, wanting to see if there were any familiar faces in them. To which she panned at one in the bottom and found you talking to Chris Prince amicably. And well, from that angle you did look a teeny bit like your cousin, Eina, hence why the little girl on the chair started to shout to call her mama, or who she thought was her mama.

"Mama! Mama! Youre back!"

Anri, seeing the cheering toddler could not help but smile fondly, however she did approach the little girl and told her that it was just you, her aunty and not her mama. Aina, just frowned at that, missing her mother dearly.

Well, that was until Anri had a brilliant idea, one that made her giggle mischievously.

"Hey, Aina-chan! Do you like pranks?"

The little girl's eyes brightened as she jumped from the chair she was in.

"Ooh! Yes! Yes please! Let's do a prank aunty! What are we gunna do?"

The smirk on the elder woman's face became wider as she started to whisper in the little girl's ear.

"That's all the JFU wanted to tell all of you. Now go."

Ego said coldly, dismissing the masters who all sat around the long table. The director of Blue Lock called for a very quick meeting with the rest of the masters. Since Anri was not free at the moment due to working with something that is related to the Neo-Egoist League (and also babysitting), you were the one called in to take notes.

The masters did not immediately leave, most of them approaching you to start small talks (ahem Chris and Lavinho ahem) while the others were busy taking the time to write down some things and cleaning up their things scattered on the table.

However, the automatic door suddenly opened, which made everyone look towards who was entering the meeting room, when a flash of long black hair and a small figure ran to your direction.

Flinching with a groan, you were definitely taken aback by the tight hug. You were suddenly attacked by a small figure. Small arms wrapped around your middle.

"Mama! I missed you!"

Crickets.

At first, it was just you who was in shock, not even sure why she called you her 'mama' when you are clearly not. But, it was not just you as gasps was heard around the room.

Chris gasped like he had just discovered the most scandalous gossip ever. Lavinho's looked like he was close to passing out. Snuffy's smile almost vanished as a vein popped in his forehead. Noa's eyes were colder than it usually felt like. While Ego just looked on emotionlessly, he was definitely more than confused, especially when you told him the child was your cousin's.

"Sweetie, wha-"

"Mama, you were gone for too long. I wanted to see you."

Aina hugged you tighter, her puppy eyes already on as she tried to look as innocent as possible which definitely worked on you.

"You have a daughter, Y/n-san?"

Loki was the only voice of reason amongst the quiet and heartbroken quiet adult men, as he just smiled at the young girl who is now in your arms.

"What? Oh, no! You misunderstand-"

But as if bad luck is not already on your side today, the little girl in your arms turned around to face Ego, who still sat calmly on his chair and called out to him in a name that you knew will legit get you in trouble.

"Papa! Hi! You're here too! Aina missed you!"

Now, that had everyone's mouth on the floor. Yes, even Noa and Loki had their mouths open, although not as exaggerated as the others.

"WHAT?!"

"Are you serious?!"

"Ego, you bastard-"

Ego just raised an eyebrow at the predicament, not even trying to stop and deny the claims. Instead, he even seemed to be enjoying it.

The coaches were definitely pissed. Out of all the men in the world you could have chosen (ahem themselves ahem) you chose to be with Ego?! And even worse, bear his child?!

Looking at the girl in your arms, she seems to be the perfect mix of you and Ego. Her hair, skin and build reminiscent of the man while her (e/c) eyes definitely came from you. So there was no doubt in their heads that it was not true!

You did look good holding a child, and you seemed to be very good with them. The little girl seemed to be enamoured with you, playing with the ends of your hair or pecking your cheek. You'd definitely be a good mother.

Now, if only you did not conceive with that four-eyed fucking asshole-

"Wait, I swear its not like that, guys-"

"No, don't worry, Y/n. You can tell us everything." Noa said stoically.

"Yeah. Did he force you or anything? We can call the authorities on him or even beat him up for you if you want." Lavinho added to which you blinked in horror at.

"What?! Please don't! Let me explain-"

"No, no, Y/n. You don't have to explain or remember the things he did. Seeing as to how he treats you and the lack of ring on your finger, I can see he does not give importance to you as a woman." Snuffy said, holding your shoulders gently, pushing you beside him and away from the ravenette man in question.

"You don't have to worry a thing, pretty. We'll take care of this." Chris said, cracking his knuckles to which you panicked even more.

"Um guys, maybe we shouldn't jump to conclusions." Loki said, seeing you panic and the absolute irrational conclusions of the four coaches.

"You all are talking about me as if I'm not here." Ego finally responded on the accusations. Although his words did not help at all in making the situation worse.

"You have the audacity to even remind us you are still here." Lavinho said, walking closer to the man who still did not look like he feared for his life at all.

"Oh my god! STOP! I've been trying to tell all of you that it's not what it looks like! Aina over here is the daughter of my cousin! Me and Ego-san did not do anything disgusting! Now can anyone not fight in front of a toddler and a minor?!"

You said in a mini outburst, leaving Aina to Loki while you glared at all of them. Yes, even Ego who did not immediately deny the accusations.

All of them were of course taken aback by the outburst, used to your soft and kind countenance most of the time. So to see you mad for the first time definitely made them a little guilty.

And also gush because you looked hot-

Ahem, anyway. It took a bit of deeper explanation before they were fully convinced, and well, there was no apology at all for what they said to Ego. He's still an enemy for you in their eyes, so why would they become all buddy-buddy with their opponent?

For the rest of the day, the coaches just ended up watching you be maternal and soft from afar, thinking to themselves that you will indeed be a good future mother someday. And hopefully (and if you'd agree to it), they would be the one who will see that you every day.

ADDITIONAL TIME:

Unbeknownst to you, though, someone was eavesdropping, and that certain someone was Otoya. Running back to his room, he was cackling like an evil conspirator, chatting with the others on his phone:

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.