#we were pretty busy at work and then building furniture on top of that so i wanna turn off the social part of my brain for the night uvu | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

andheresthething · 2 years ago

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Let Me Catch Up With Ya’ Honey

Summary: Setting up a new office for your architecture business takes a turn for the best.

[No Use of Y/N] [Established Relationship] [Domestic Fluff] [Pet Names] [Kissing] [Accidental Proposal] [IKEA Furniture] [Interrior Decorating]

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Notes:

I've had the idea for a while but only got around to writing it recently. Surprisingly, carpal tunnel didn't hinder this one, rather my inability to execute my own ideas and Resident Evil brainrot. Currently out of ideas so hopefully something hits me soon or someone gives a good prompt.

Gender-neutral reader once more :)

As always, character playlist plug.

Reposted from AO3

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A door slammed, echoing in the sparse room. You were focused on the sheets of wood and bolts splayed across the cold vinyl flooring, not minding the slight commotion behind you.

“Is that the last of it?” you asked the person behind you, continuing your work on what should be a coffee table.

“Yup, U-Haul’s empty. Now, all we need to do is put together all this furniture.”

You gained the will to stop working on your first project to face your boyfriend leaning against one of many large boxes surrounding the entrance to your office. Chairs, desks, tables, and cabinets. All for the two of you to start your next big step in life. Despite his efforts to beat the midday summer heat by wearing one of his crop tops and thin shorts, he still had broken a sweat from lugging all the boxes out of the portable oven you had rented. Luckily, the office managed to stay impossibly cool.

“Do you want help with that one, or should we work on separate pieces?” he asked.

“I’m alright. Besides, I’m a God at putting together furniture,” you said, staring at him with a straight face.

“Alright, point taken. Now, what to build?”

Nightowl turned to look at all the boxes, eventually picking out the desk he had picked out for himself. He dragged it over to the area you were working in and set it down gently. When he sat down, you slid him the box cutter you had so he could get to work. It took you a moment to figure out what exactly he chose to work on.

“Starting off with the heavy hitter?”

“Why not?” Nightowl shrugged. “It’s gonna be the thing I’m glued to for the rest of time. May as well get used to it now.”

The two of you worked in comfortable silence for a while. Partially due to the intense concentration you bestowed upon your respective pieces. When you were finishing up with the small table, Nightowl broke the silence.

“I think only now the whole ‘we’re making our business super extra official’ thing is setting in on me.”

You lifted your head. “The loan we took out so we didn’t have to sell our organs for this didn’t do it for you?”

“Okay okay, that felt pretty real,” he laughed. “Seriously though, being in our actual office together and getting it all set up makes it feel like we really did it,” he smiled, now focusing his attention on you. You did the same.

“I get what you mean. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling it too. The realness is kinda anxiety-inducing, though.”

“In a good way, right?”

“Yeah, in a good way,” you smiled, going back to your table.

The two of you had started this business a while back. Nightowl had gotten a lot of recognition quickly at the company he started with when he finished grad school. While the idea originally was that he’d be working with a team, soon enough, it became clients requesting him to work on their projects solo. With his name being as known as it was, working for a company seemed somewhat pointless to him. So, he asked you what you thought about taking the plunge. After mulling it over, you agreed. He would be the architect, and you, the accountant and secretary.

It started by working out of the apartment you shared. In-person meetings taking place in coffee shops and online ones in the kitchen with a bedsheet as a background. The living room partially turned into Nightowl’s office, while the kitchen table was yours. After a year of the somewhat disorganized setup, you decided to upgrade to a real office space. Thus, started the lengthy process that brought you here.

Screwing in the last bolt, you stood up. “One down, a million more to go.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned.

“Come on, with me here it won't be so bad,” you said as you picked up the table and put it as far away from everything as possible. Nightowl continued his gaze, though it filled with adoration.

“God, what can’t you do?” he praised, eyes following you as you walked back to him. Still sitting on the floor, he looked up at you as you leaned down, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“I’m letting that go to my head.”

“By all means, let it.”

You went to the giant box collection and picked out the next piece. That’s how your day went. Building furniture, moving it either to the opposite side of the room or the vicinity of where you'd think it'd stay, then picking out a new box. Keeping yourselves entertained with a wide range of conversation topics.

As the early evening rolled around, hunger struck. You sent out Nightowl to pick up the cheapest pizza he could find while you fought with a bookshelf. Just as you wrangled it into place, the door opened once more, this time by a Nightowl carrying a much smaller box and a two-liter tucked under his arm. He came over to your workspace, moving aside various tools to place down the box. You immediately dove in while he sat down, him joining in once at your level. The incredibly cheap food felt like heaven in your starved stomach.

“This reminds me of my college days,” you remarked.

“We are eating poor college kid food,” he responded, opening the bottle next to him.

“I mean the situation, stupid. It’s just like when I got my first apartment.”

“Go on,” he said, setting down the bottle after taking a sip. You reached over for it, drinking before continuing.

“It was me and like, four other people in a small shitty apartment. It was our first day there, and we had brought in the few belongings we had to call it home. We were all starving and ordered a pizza because someone had a coupon, but surprise, surprise, we didn’t have any furniture. We all ended up eating together on the living room floor like this and sharing a two-liter because we also didn’t have any cups.”

Nightowl laughed, nearly choking on his food. “How were you so unprepared?”

“I definitely didn't have my shit together then. Besides, we were all nineteen-year-old finance majors that thought it would be so much better to live in an apartment. I don’t think it would have been possible for any of us to know what we were doing.”

“Makes me feel better about staying in the dorms for all of undergrad,” he smiled, taking another bite of his slice.

“You made the right call.”

The conversation continued, both of you reminiscing about your undergrad days and sharing stories you probably have told each other already. Neither of you minded hearing them over again, though. Truth be told, the time spent together made the whole venture worthwhile. Once finished, you threw the box and now empty bottle into the massive pile of cardboard in the corner of the room.

Nightowl got himself up and grabbed the next box from the now considerably smaller collection of boxes near the door. Soon, you joined him and both of you continued the day's work. Box after box, piece after piece, you had chipped away at the collection you had created. Nightfall set in by the time you finished.

Nightowl sighed as he stood up. “Why did we leave the impossible chair for last?”

“Fate must’ve had it out for us.”

“Seriously, if this stumped the furniture building God how was anyone supposed to put it together?” he grumbled. While you had originally been the one to work on it, you soon realized it would have to be a team effort. Nightowl took on the role of the builder as you read the instructions.

“It’s going to my head again,” you said as you got up from the desk you were sitting on to stand by his side.

“I’m more okay with that than you think.” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “Confidence in yourself is hot on you.”

“I think it’s called ego, actually.”

“Basically the same thing. Take the compliment, cutie,” he pouted.

“Alright, alright. I will.”

“Good,” he said, placing a kiss on your cheek. The two of you stood there for a moment, admiring the work you had done.

“We should probably put everything in place, shouldn’t we?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Up to you, cutie. You’re the one in charge here,” he responded with a slight yawn.

“I don’t think either of us will have the energy to come back tomorrow to do anything but drop stuff off after a day of decor hunting.”

“Now it is then!” he declared, sparking his energy once more.

While you had pre-planned the layout, you found yourself stuck between two ideas. Nightowl didn't have a preference between the two, so it was up to you to figure out which you liked more. Unfortunately, your indecisiveness led to an hour of going back and forth between the two, even combining them at some point, before you finally settled on what you wanted.

Nightowl walked backward toward the door, back hitting it before he slid all the way down. “We’re finally done,” he smiled, looking up at you. You made your way over and sat down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder. He took your hand into his own. “I can’t wait to immediately pass out as soon as I touch the bed.”

“You definitely deserve it. I was the one making you move everything around over and over again.”

“As long as you’re happy with the layout, I don’t mind one bit.”

“Still, I do feel a bit guilty. Like I was bossing you around.”

“My opinion on your confidence has not wavered.”

“I don’t think-”

“Take the compliment,” he said, cutting you off.

“You are one strange man,” you laughed.

“Maybe I am, but you love me for it,” he teased back.

“That I do,” you responded, squeezing his hand slightly. “Surprising after today since the putting together furniture and arranging it thing supposedly tears apart relationships.”

“If we can survive this happily and do it for a business we started all on our own, I think our relationship can survive anything,” he proclaimed.

“It better. Wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

“Neither would I, cutie. We should make it official.”

“Like get married?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he yawned. A second passed before he realized exactly what he said and how he said it. He let go of your hand and turned a bit to fully face you. “I don’t mean right now. Unless you wanted to then I mean right now.”

You were stunned, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Before his panicked rambling, you thought it was just more conversation. Sure, you had talked about marriage before, but always casually. Never did it come out like this. You continued to stare at each other. Though only for a few moments, it felt excruciating long.

Nightowl slammed his face into his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and my brain fell out of my mouth. You don't have to take it as an actual proposal.”

“I want to.”

Nightowl lifted his head from his hands to face you once more. His face was red from embarrassment. You reached out to hold both of his hands. “Actually?”

“I haven’t exactly pictured my future without you.”

“There’s no way you actually want to marry me now.”

"Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been together for years and already started a whole business together. If anything, it’s a little weird we didn’t get married before that.”

“This isn’t real. We’re really gonna do this?”

“Yeah, we are,” you smiled.

Nightowl immediately dove to hug you, knocking you to the floor. “Holy shit, I love you so much. You actually want to get married to me. I’m so fucking lucky.” he gushed.

“You’re crushing me,” you wheezed. Nightowl lifted his weight off of you to reveal the biggest grin on his face and eyes glossy from joy.

“Sorry! You’re just… everything I've ever wanted and now I get to have you forever. Kinda unbelievable,” he said as he laid himself beside you. “When do we start the planning?”

“Maybe after we pay back most of the loan we took out.”

“That’s gonna take forever,” he whined.

“Did you forget how many projects you have lined up? We’ll get it done in no time. Plus, I got us a fantastic interest rate.”

“What if we did a courthouse wedding?”

“No ceremony or reception?”

“We can do that later. There's no need for us to wait on a legal marriage, though.”

“You are very eager to do this as soon as possible.”

"That I am. I’ll make an appointment for next week if you want.”

“How long have you been thinking about this, exactly? You seem to have everything lined up in your head.”

He paused. “Longer than I’m willing to admit.”

“I bet you have a secret wedding scrapbook,” you joked.

Nightowl’s eyes went wide. “What don’t you know?”

“You’re showing me it when we get home,” you sang.

“How did I accidentally pull this off so well?”

“The things you do accidentally tend to go well. It’s like a blessing to have luck on your side like that.”

“I think luck has been on my side for more than saving my ass.”

“Like how this probably wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t get that impossible chair?” you said as you propped yourself up, now sitting.

“Exactly! Definitely wouldn’t have been tired enough to propose if that thing didn’t exist,” he chuckled.

“We should probably get home before you’re too tired to function.”

“Agreed.”

You two got yourselves off the floor, admiring each other for a moment before Nightowl leaned down to kiss you. Once parted, you gave one last look at the fruits of your labor before going to grab your phones and keys. Nightowl flicked off the lights before leaving and you followed suit. For tonight, at least, the gigantic pile of cardboard would have to live in the office. You fumbled with your keys for a second before locking up. Turning around towards your now fiance, you reached out for his hand, which he obliged. With one last short stare of adoration, you led the way out of the building that housed your little office.

#blooming panic #bloomic #blooming panic fanfic #bloomic fanfic #nightowl #blooming panic nightowl #bp nightowl #bloomic nightowl #blooming panic x reader #nightowl x reader #bp nightowl x reader #bloomic nightowl x reader #sfw

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sukacheri · 1 year ago

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Academic Integrity [AO3 or Keep Reading below]

Hinakasa | 5k words

Tsukasa Suou is a first-year student in law school striving to graduate at the top of his class. Hinata Aoi is his tutor.

a/n: the AO3 version uses a work skin for a texting feature; the tumblr version is free of that if the AO3 ver isnt working for you! i hope you all enjoy this, i brainrotted a lot

Today, 4:49 PM

Tsukasa: Are you available tonight? Urgent.

Hinata: hmm finals szn is pretty busy for me ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

Hinata: maybeeee for a good offer i can see if i can swing by

Tsukasa: How are you even busy? There’s no exams tonight

Hinata: i still gotta read the textbooks! lots of last minute clients looking to bump their grade up a letter

Hinata: if ur that hard pressed about it, then ill just take it for you

Hinata: teehee

Tsukasa: I’m not last minute and we have an existing agreement. One that does not involve academic dishonesty, so don’t even joke about it.

Tsukasa: I expect you here at 6pm.

Hinata: whoaaa tsukasa-kun’s ordering me around what am i gonna do

Hinata: not show up i guess

Hinata: (*≧ω≦*)

Tsukasa: I’m ordering in dinner. What do you want.

Hinata: (´ ω `♡) my hero~

Hinata: place an order at that ramen place i dragged you to a few weeks ago. if you remember what i got then ill help you cram tonight

Hinata: get the good spot in the library!

Tsukasa: Actually I have some reservations about that. I’d rather not be seen in public with you. Especially right now

Hinata: our forbidden love! hiding our courtship is so cruel… unless…? my prince is shy~?

Hinata: or maybe… you just want to get me to your place… i see i see… tsukasakun is so sly. you wont pass your exams if you youre too focused on flirting

Tsukasa: Shupt up

Tsukasa: Shut up.

Tsukasa: Just come over alright? I’ll text you my address and order the food.

Hinata: yessir (`･ω･´)ゞ

Tsukasa did not get visitors to his apartment. There had been a total of two people in it, one of which being himself. Even his own parents hadn’t come to visit, but Tsukasa hadn’t expected them to; the Suous had higher priorities than seeing their son moved in, especially when at this point it was for law school and Tsukasa was a grown twenty three years old.

The other visitor had been his nosy neighbor who insisted on poking her head in whenever she got the chance, but Arashi meant well so it didn’t bother Tsukasa that much. She frequently commented with much amusement about the giant textbooks Tsukasa lugged around, saying he was starting to look as if he may be building muscles after all this time.

Guests were unexplored territory for him, and especially with only a one hour notice (his own fault, he knows), the uncertainty clouded over him about the state of his apartment. Tsukasa was a clean person so by habit there was no trash or dishes out, everything put away once used, but he frowned at the state of his living room.

It was boring.

Tsukasa didn’t care about that, but he knew he was asking for scorn from Hinata. The guy did nothing but bring up all these little faults in Tsukasa he never realized he had, or if he did, he at least thought they weren’t noticeable. Each and every time they met, Hinata would point out anything and somehow relate it back to how Tsuksa was so rigid or uptight.

The living room, where he was planning their study session to be, was empty of anything except basic furniture. A couch, a coffee table, an ottoman. Not even a TV.

Hinata struck him as a cozy person, someone surrounded by blankets and throw pillows, with an assortment of trinkets and decor on a warm wooden coffee table. And Tsukasa did not own a single blanket or pillow, and self consciousness began to rival the grip his test anxiety kept him in all day, tempting him to go drag the comforter off his bed and try to pass it off as a throw blanket.

He considered it more than he should have, until his phone started buzzing in his pocket bringing him out of his thoughts.

Today, 5:25 PM

Hinata: oooo tsukasakun you did remember my order!

Hinata: im so touched!

Hinata: ill stay over if you wanna cram that much ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

Tsukasa looked at his non-blanketed couch and clicked his tongue.

Tsukasa: If you are able to, I would appreciate it. I understand it is last minute though.

Hinata: nope! no take backsies! im on my way!!!!!

Hinata: about 15 minutes i think!

Hinata: ε===(っ≧ω≦)っ

Tsukasa: Is this one… farting?

Hinata: NO!!!!!

Hinata: (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Tsukasa: I do not like that one.

Okay, fifteen minutes to find a solution to the blanket problem. Except Tsukasa knew for a fact there were no stupid throw blankets anywhere in his apartment. Why did blankets matter so much? They were blankets. But if Hinata was going to stay over to help Tsukasa, then he had a duty to make sure it was comfortable for him.

Tsukasa stepped into the hallway outside of his apartment, hoping and praying that Arashi was staying in tonight and wouldn’t think it was too weird what he was asking for. He walked to the door directly across from him and knocked.

No response.

Oh, please Narukami-senpai, Tsukasa thought while knocking again. Tonight of all nights when I need you to stick your nose into my business and you’re not here.

Again, no response. The doom of Hinata approaching by the second sent a jolt of anxiety on top of his already existing mountain of it through him. He knocked again, a bit harder than he meant to.

The hallway was quiet, and Tsukasa didn’t hear any movement from behind Arashi’s door. He sighed and turned to return to his own apartment, but caught the eyes of someone peeking out from the door to the left of his.

“Nacchan’s not here. Usually someone only needs to knock once to realize that,” Ritsu said lazily, looking at Tsukasa with sleepy eyes.

“I apologize if I woke you up from a nap, Ritsu-senpai. I needed to ask her a favor, but if she’s not here, then I’ll figure something else out.”

“Mmm,” Ritsu hummed. “What do you need? If Nacchan finds out I didn’t help the poor guy she treats like a stay kitten, then she’ll have my neck.”

Tsukasa squinted. “I am not a stray cat. And she doesn’t treat me—” he paused, taking a breath and remembering the task at hand. “I need some blankets. Throw blankets. I’m having company over and I don’t really have anything, and I’d hate to be a bad host.”

“Aw, so caring as always, Suuchan. You do know Nacchan is strong enough to carry her own groceries, right? If you help her, you should help me too.”

“If I say yes, will you give me blankets?”

Ritsu waved a hand. “Forget it, I can’t put your poor soul through waking up at 3 AM for my shopping hours just to help me carry my junk food up the stairs. I’ll go get you your blankets, wait here.”

Relief flooded through Tsukasa as Ritsu went into his apartment, and he couldn’t be more thankful that Arashi had dragged him over for dinner when he first moved in. He appreciated his brief interactions with Ritsu and Arashi, and if his schoolwork weren’t so vigorous he’d liked to be closer with them. Maybe if Hinata’s help scored him high enough on his finals, he could see about having another dinner with them.

“Here you are, Suuchan.” Ritsu returned, at least four different blankets stacked on top of each other. “You’re getting my rejects, but just know that a reject from me will still be 10x better than anything you’ve used in your entire life.”

Tsukasa was in awe, bowing before accepting the blankets with giddy hands. “Thank you, Ritsu-senpai! I owe you many favors for this. I really will help you carry your groceries if that is what you need of me. You are a lifesaver, and I’m in your debt.

“Relax, it’s nothing. Honestly? Keep them, I don’t use them.”

“Thank you, I will remember this and repay you.”

Ritsu shrugged. “Well, I do like gifts. Have fun tonight, Suuchan. And try to get some sleep. You won’t last through school if you don’t get plenty of rest.”

“I think you get too much rest, but thank you. Goodnight, Ritsu-senpai.”

Tsukasa returned to his apartment, blankets victoriously held in his arms. He dropped them on the couch, finding himself agreeing with Ritsu’s declaration that his rejects still made for perfectly acceptable blankets to Tsukasa. He was given four, he discovered, as he laid them out on the couch. One of them was noticeably smaller than the others, with detailed fringe around the edges, so Tsukasa put that one over the back of the couch as a decoration.

Already a vast improvement over the boring blandness this space had been, and Tsukasa buzzed around the couch laying the remaining folded blankets out in different ways. His mind switched through the different options like he was flipping pages in his textbook, trying to find the specific precedent to refute a classmate during a lecture. It’d be easier if there was a clear defined answer, but much like the law, blanket arrangement was an art.

Where he drew trouble was that couldn’t decide on the amount of blankets to leave out. The dark purple fuzzy one he hid inside his broom closet, not finding it to match his theme, and he kept the decorative one where it laid. The last two were the ones giving him grief.

Tsukasa bit his lip— a bad habit that required him to constantly keep chapstick on hand— as he fretted over his predicament. He struggled to think of what Hinata would tease less, his cheery voice nagging at the back of Tsukasa’s head each time he tried to lay the blankets differently.

Time was slipping away from him. He pulled his phone out to check for any new messages.

His last message was marked as read at 5:27 PM.

Tsukasa sighed. It was 5:40 right now; he may have a few more minutes to figure this out. The current arrangement could be worked upon, perhaps he could have unfold the smooth maroon blanket and put it over the arm of the couch. That felt a bit pretentious though, so instead— something flashed in the bottom of his eyes.

Texting bubbles.

Tsukasa stared at them intently, a weak hope inside him wishing that the other boy was running late. There was still more he had to do before Hinata arrived. He should’ve started tea earlier so it’d be ready by now, and now it would be just another stone on the pile of Tsukasa’s poor hosting skills.

He wasn’t aware he was holding his breath until the bubbles disappeared, no message sent in their place. He looked back up at the couch, a new formation taking shape in his mind, yes, this one would do much nicer. Tsukasa picked up the maroon and was about to fold it back into a square when a sudden knocking struck his door. The blanket fell from his fingers with a jolt as he whipped head to the door.

Surely it was not Hinata. The intercom hadn’t buzzed so how would he have gotten in?

Idiot, Tsukasa thought while walking to the door. Of course the same guy that takes exams for other people can sneak into an apartment building. This was probably even easier than that.

Tsukasa glanced through the peephole, and… nothing was there except an empty hallway. Narrowing his eyes, he opened the door.

“Boo!” Hinata jumped out from the left, orange hair bouncing around his face, framing his bright smile. “Aw, boo. You were expecting that.”

Hinata forewent his glasses, green eyes peering at him without obstruction. Tsukasa remembered him mentioning he only wore them as a disguise anyways, despite the fact Tsukasa had caught him more than once sliding them on as he went digging through his laptop.

Hinata was dressed warmly for the increasingly colder weather as winter grew closer, his white cable knit sweater hung off of him. The black straps of his heavy backpack contrasted against it, completing a proper academic look, and Tsukasa found it funny how Hinata enjoyed looking to be the part of a typical enthused student so much.

“I’ve put up with you for weeks. You’re not surprising anymore,” Tsukasa scoffed.

“I think it’s been like months now. And all that means is that I have to be more surprising.” Hinata lifted his hand up, showcasing the takeout bag he carried. “Let me in? C’mon I’m starving and I kinda forgot to eat lunch sooo…”

Tsukasa frowned but stepped aside to let him in. “You should remember to eat, Hinata-kun. You can’t be that busy that you’re forgetting.”

“Geez, judge someone much? I thought you were just being grumpy in your texts, but you really can’t believe that I’m busy. Don’t you realize this is prime time for someone like me? Why, you kids need all the help you can get!”

“I keep telling you I’m older than you.”

Hinata shrugged as he walked inside, setting the bag onto the kitchen counter. The smell hit Tsukasa in a nostalgic wave, the flavors reminding him of dark wooden tables and dim lighting. Of the sweetest yet still savory ramen he’s ever had, and the way Hinata had shook his arms with exclamations of ‘I told you so’.

“That,’ Tsukasa said, “smells so much better than I remember.”

“I told you it’s the best. You can harp about the fancy ramen you’ve had with your parents all you want, but this is how it’s supposed to be. Nice, warm, and comforting.” Hinata opened the bag and took out his container, popping the lid off with a grin of satisfaction.

“I have some bowls we can use. Better than eating from the plastic.” Tsukasa took two porcelain bowls out from the top shelf of his cabinet, turning to see Hinata staring at him.

“You went on your tiptoes. It’s cute. Y’know, if you need help reaching something then the magic word is please.”

And here we go with the teasing. This guy never stops, Tsukasa thought as he glared at Hinata.

“I can reach everything just fine. You keep thinking you’re all these things I’m not, like how you think you’re older and taller. You have, at maximum, two inches on me. What is it they say? ‘You’re one to talk’?” Tsukasa snapped, placing the bowls on the counter and taking out his own food. “I was going to offer you tea, but now I have half a mind not to. You don’t deserve my tea.”

Hinata widened his eyes in mock hurt, speaking in an exaggerated tone. “Oh, Tsukasa-kun! You wound me! Mar me! Kill me! And two hundred other synonyms I don’t feel like listing out. The humanity! I’m so hurt I… I may just start crying… I don’t… sniff sniff… I don’t think I can help someone so mean…”

Tsukasa huffed and turned away, picking up his kettle to fill it with water. It was hardly for Hinata’s sake. Tsukasa knew he would start needing caffeine now if he ever hoped to get through an entire night of cramming with him, and if he had any hope of staying awake enough to retain his studies.

If only he were the one gifted with a photographic memory.

Tsukasa set the kettle onto the stove to warm up, and pulled out a box of assorted tea bags to leave next to it. He sidestepped past Hinata to fill his own bowl, who was already slurping away at his noodles while somehow conveying an annoying smirk with only his eyes. Irritation lit up under Tsukasa’s skin, and he grabbed his container and poured it into the bowl, moving too fast and causing a series of drops to splash around the counter.

“I’d say something, but I’m more sad than anything. That’s a waste of the most delicious broth in the world,,” Hinata said through a mouth full of food.

“It’s a few drops, it is not the end of the world.��

“Whatever helps you cope. So, are we eating in the kitchen, or? Not that I mind standing. It really puts into perspective those two inches I have over you.”

Tsukasa snatched his bowl and chopsticks, barely repressing a complaint and forcing Hinata’s words to roll off of him like oil on water. Except it felt more like trying to ignore a tick intent on trying to suck at his blood and scrambling all over his body.

“We’ll eat on the couch. I already dragged all the books that we’ll need out of my room.”

“Books that you’ll need.”

Tsukasa stuffed noodles in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond.

They sat down on the couch, Hinata dropping his backpack to the ground with a thud while Tsukasa waited for a quip about how his blankets complimented his nerdiness, or how only someone so stuffy as himself would have a decorative one. To Tsukasa’s dismay, Hinata didn’t give any of the blankets a second glance, instead sitting down with his legs criss-crossed on the cushion and focusing entirely on shoveling food into his mouth.

At least that was something Tsukasa could concede on. The ramen was good, the flavors so striking and unique that they kept fighting to drag Tsukasa’s mind back to that first time he ate it. That day, Hinata insisted on meeting at the restaurant despite Tsukasa’s protests that it didn’t exactly seem like a good place to study. And it wasn’t, he felt too awkward to even try bringing out a single stack of flashcards in that atmosphere of dim lighting and quiet, yet ample, background noise that drew one’s mind to a place of calm.

Hinata had forced him to sit down and share a pot of tea with him while they waited for their food. Tsukasa had the beginnings of a cold, and whatever was in that tea soothed his throat so well that whatever had tried to start was sent right out of his system. And once their food arrived, that was when Hinata started grilling him with questions like a human flashcard machine.

It wasn’t the most productive study session they’ve had, but it was Tsukasa’s fondest for some reason.

“So, what’s urgent tonight? You’re my best student.” Hinata paused to slurp more noodles into his mouth. “And aren’t your finals heavy loaded for the last few days? You have extra time.”

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude.”

“You shouldn’t avoid questions. It’s rude,” Hinata mimicked him. “And I’m your tutor! So, you gotta answer everything I ask related to your studies. That’s just the rules.”

Tsukasa bit back saying that the rules of common courtesy usurped the rules of informal tutoring agreements. “I’m struggling with property law. Again. I understood everything last week, and I could name all the landmark cases, and all the obscure ones we went over. Then I took a practice quiz this morning and I scored a 91.”

“Good job!”

“Not a good job!” Tsukasa scowled. “That’s one mistake away from an 89. Honestly, 95 is my low bound and I scored four points below that. I don’t have time to look through the book and remember what I’m forgetting.”

Understanding dawned on Hinata’s face and he nodded. “So, you want to bounce your head off of mine to figure out what you’re forgetting. Yeah, okay, I get what you’re saying. Do you think that’s going to take a whole night cramming? Not that I’m trying to get out of it! You bought me dinner and a deals a deal, but… you could have texted me and I would have told you the lists we made, y’know?”

Tsukasa bit his lip, poking the egg in his ramen around while his face grew hot. “If I’m being honest… that thought did not occur to me. I panicked, perhaps, in calling you here so suddenly.”

“I mean, it’s alright. Who doesn’t like getting free food? And I’m also super flattered you remembered my order.” Hinata grinned at him, and Tsukasa felt some of his embarrassment drain away, yet somehow replaced with a different sort of burning in his cheeks.

“I suppose I may have unconsciously had other intentions,” Tsukasa said as Hinata’s green eyes snapped to his with such intensity it nearly gave Tsukasa pause. “It’s always fascinating watching you work. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but it’s not like you meet someone like you that often, or ever. I can’t forget the chill I got back when we first met and you started reciting the textbook I was reading with your eyes closed. You’re amazing, and I like witnessing it as much as I can.”

While he talked, Hinata’s eyes lost their intensity and his smile grew in their stead, now stretched wide across his face as he waved his chopsticks around.

“Aw, well, it’s nothing. Lucky genetics and all that. Write some numbers on a piece of paper and flash ‘em to me and I’ll tell you them all. Or whatever other fun tricks you want.”

“Hmm,” Tsukasa hummed. “First 100 digits of pi?”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “That’s way too easy. A dedicated nerd can do that. Anyways, let’s start figuring out what law mumbo jumbo you’re forgetting while we eat, so that once we’re done we can jump right into it.”

Tsukasa agreed, and he started listing all that he remembered in between bites of gradually dwindling food. Hinata was an enthusiastic listener, always giving an indication of acknowledgement to Tsukasa, either nodding his head or his chopsticks, or through a series of ‘yeah’s’ and ‘uh-huh’s’ streaming through his lips. His eyes never regained their earlier intensity, but they also never left Tsukasa’s.

For anyone else, he was sure the near constant eye contact would be discomforting— Tsukasa himself had the habit of maintaining direct eye contact, but because of that he was used to seeing people shift and look away from him. With Hinata’s unwavering gaze, Tsukasa suspected it was some sort of habit due to his memory. If one was able to remember all the details from a simple conversation, and all you had to do was to make sure you could focus and listen the first time, then you’d make an effort to consistently do that. That was Tsukasa’s theory at least.

They finished their ramen and began studying in earnest, with Tsukasa pulling out his textbooks to cover the near entirety of the coffee table like a tablecloth of legislative finery. Hinata grabbed the maroon blanket from the armrest, settling it across his shoulders like a cloak. The sight of it left a tingle in Tsukasa’s chest, giddy that he did good at making sure his blanket dilemma was solved.

Tsukasa meant what he said, that witnessing Hinata work was something special. He’d recite questions from previous practice tests he assigned Tsukasa, and recall with precise clarity the answer choices and the explanation for the correct one. Hinata could also socratic method circles around Tsukasa, able to ask a question and discuss with him as if playing the role of multiple fellow students, each with their own arguments and viewpoints. The only thing he lacked compared to his classmates was the condescending attitude, and when he tried making a joke about that before to Hinata, the other man smiled and said Tsukasa had the same exact attitude problem.

He did not have a comeback for that one.

A few hours later, as Tsukasa sat on the floor and flipped through a book on rental property law changes in the past five years, he found his mind drifting to a familiar question plaguing his mind. He glanced at Hinata, who had eventually put on his glasses and tied his hair back as he skimmed over some news articles on Tsukasa’s laptop.

Tsukasa clicked his tongue. They were due for a break anyways.

“Hinata-kun.”

Hinata’s eyes stayed on the screen a moment longer, finishing his line on the page, then looked up. “Did you think up an argument for overruling the rental clause we talked about? Bed bugs are serious business, you know.”

“No, it’s not about that. I had a question.”

“Well, usually when someone like you has a question you just ask it.”

“I’m not sure if it will be rude or not.”

The intensity from earlier flared behind Hinata’s eyes, curiosity boring into Tsukasa, as if shaking him to spit it out already.

“Just ask! I’m an open book. Kinda literally if you think about it in a test taking way.”

“Okay,” Tsukasa said. “How come you’re not trying to become a lawyer? You have all the knowledge needed for it, and I’m sure you could pass the bar right now if you wanted to. You could quite literally be the lawyer of the century if you went through the steps of getting the proper qualifications.”

Hinata stared at him, the silence stretching heavy over a few seconds while Tsukasa felt the oncoming reprimands for his nosiness prickling against his skin.

But Hinata just sighed and placed his elbow on the couch to support his head as he looked away. “I’ve already passed the bar. I did that years ago. That’s such a boring question. I thought you were going to ask me something more interesting like what my type is.”

“What the hell do you mean you’ve already passed the bar?” Tsukasa squawked, eyes widening with the new information. “If you did that then why are you wasting your time cheating on exams for law students? You could be in a courtroom right now presenting real cases!”

“Hey, okay, so when I say ‘passed’, I do mean in a more unofficial way. I don’t have a piece of paper or anything, so no courtrooms for me.” Hinata grinned at him, eyes squinting from it. “Besides, the last thing I want to do is be in a courtroom. That’s way too stuffy and boring for me. It’s more fun harassing you about article codes and clauses.”

“I don’t see how digging through papers is the fun part for you. In court is where you can actually present your case and do something else other than read legal briefs for hours at a time.”

Hinata took his glasses off, tapping his finger against the frame as he stared at Tsukasa. “Regardless, I don’t care about being a lawyer. It’s just fun to know things. Y’know, I passed the MCAT in the 99th percentile.”

“Bullshit. Why are you collecting exams like trophies? You are a very sick individual.”

“Such language, Tsukasa-kun. You should be more polite and sweet like me,” Hinata said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I make it my policy not to help med students. I’d kinda rather not have the future medical professionals of our generation be unable to do the work. That’s my geriatric butt in their waiting rooms in the future, so best not to shoot myself in the foot now. You’re welcome.”

Tsukasa narrowed his eyes. “You say that as if releasing a bad lawyer into the world isn’t a bad thing.”

“Ah, now I didn’t say that at all. A guy’s gotta make money somehow, right? And it’s the lesser of two evils, and even you can’t tell me it isn’t.”

“You’re insufferable.” Tsukasa leaned across his textbooks, as if inching closer to Hinata would let him understand the other guy more. “Why not actually go to med school then? I can understand not being a lawyer if you think it’s boring, but as a doctor you would be actively saving peoples lives. It would make a real difference to know mountains of information when trying to diagnose a sickness or disease.”

Hinata continued tapping his glasses, his smile shifting into an inquisitive look. “Tsukasa-kun, do you know the Chinese Room argument?”

Tsukasa’s nose wrinkled. “You could not possibly be comparing yourself to the Chinese Room. That’s a supreme overreach of the argument to try and apply it to yourself.”

“But you knew instantly what I was talking about! It has to have some sort of application, right? Just because I can list off anything about some topic doesn’t really mean I understand any of it. Even now, how do you know if I actually understand law or if it’s just that I’ve read so many practice tests that I can give an output that sounds about right?”

“Because I know you’re smart. You’re clever and witty, and you like shoving it in my face. And it’s not because you’re overcompensating, it’s because you’re good-natured.”

Hinata tilted his head. “Those are conflicting thoughts, aren’t they? I’m good-natured, yet I like shoving my intellect in your face. You make me sound like a meanie.”

“The point is you’re not,” Tsukasa said. He took a breath and met Hinata’s eyes with all his sincerity. “Hinata-kun, you are incredibly kind. I am grateful for all the help you have given me and I owe keeping my sanity during law school to you.”

“Whoa, where’s this coming from?” Hinata’s lips twitched into an uncertain smile. “Just cause we talk philosophy doesn’t mean you have to get sentimental.”

“I thought you would like to hear it.” Tsukasa stood, grabbing his empty tea cup from the coffee table. “I’m making more tea, would you like some?”

“Oh.” Hinata blinked. “Yeah, sure.” He held his cup out to Tsukasa, their fingers brushing in the handoff.

“Same flavor?”

“Yeah, with extra honey if you could.” He slid his glasses back on, diving back into his research on the laptop.

Tsukasa began to walk away, but glanced back at the sound of shuffling on the couch. Hinata was turned towards him, a soft smile on his lips as he spoke.

“Thank you, Tsukasa-kun,” he said earnestly. Tsukasa found himself smiling back until Hinata finished speaking, his soft smile slipping into a mischievous grin.

“For the tea, of course. These rich boy flavors are such a treat.”

I’m never going to win with him, am I? Tsukasa thought as he rolled his eyes and continued onto the kitchen.

He’d indulge Hinata’s teasing and tea requests for now. They still had a long night of studying ahead of them yet.

#ensemble stars fic #enstars fic #hinakasa #hinata aoi #tsukasa suou #law school au!!#hinata has a photographic memory and tutors tsukasa #pining #so much pining its sickening

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scribeofskyrim · 21 days ago

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Sundas, 3rd of Frostfall, 4E 201

I'm writing this outside the Butcher's secret lair?

I honestly hate using that name, but it's fitting.

I have a feeling we'll be busy, so I'll write as I go so I don't forget anything.

We got up early and followed the blood trail to here, Hjerim. It was locked, so we asked around and learned the house's name and that it used to belong to Friga Shatter-Shield. A guard said that Tova, her mother, should have the key, and pointed out a house just down the street.

Tova is still very upset, obviously, but she agreed to help. She seemed relieved that I only wanted a key.

At first glance Hjerim is mostly empty, just some forgotten bottles and rickety bits of furniture around. In an alcove in the main room we found a chest. I gave it a once-over and spotted scuff marks on the floor. It was put here recently, but not locked. Inside I found a bunch of Beware the Butcher papers and a journal.

I found over twenty of Viola's papers. I'll stick one in here in case I need it.

(Stuck between the pages is a folded piece of paper. It reads:)

Beware the Butcher! The killer who haunts the streets of Windhelm! These calamitous times bring out the worst in people, don't become the next victim! See Viola Giordano if you spot any suspicious behavior.

The journal belongs to The Butcher.

I took a glance at it and I must have gone pale because the others asked if I was all right. I was, it's just… Reading it aloud made my stomach drop, and the others were just as disturbed by it as I was.

He's killing women and using them for parts. He wrote about stalking Susanna so he could use her "exquisite tendons" in… His work.

Our talk about the journal was interrupted by Septim barking in the back room. There, we found two tall wardrobes. One was perfectly normal with some old clothes abandoned in it. Septim was scratching and whining at the door of the other one.

We checked the outside before we opened it. Valdimar (he's the tallest) noticed brackets on top. It's nailed to the wall. I opened it up and it was empty. Septim started to growl and Erandur pulled him back so we could investigate.

Lydia reached past me and knocked on the back of the wardrobe. It was hollow. I stepped back to let her look for the latch, and while she did she explained that wealthy homes sometimes have secret rooms to hide in in case of an emergency, or just to store valuables.

Soon the back of the wardrobe swung open like a door, and inside is the Butcher's… Workshop.

How the Nine could allow this, I have no idea.

The room is small, and in it there's some shelves, a chair, candles, and some kind of altar with body parts on it. There's also a bunch of human remains, and we found another journal.

That one has a - Divines, I really don't want to use this word, but… There's a "recipe" in here for… A person, I think.

I read it aloud to the others, who had joined me, and they were shocked. I took a moment to examine the altar, which is covered in strange markings that look like they were made with blood. I honestly don't know anything about it, so I asked Erandur and Valdimar to take a look. I might have a knack for it, but they know more about magic than I do.

Valdimar recoiled when he got a closer look at the markings, and cursed under his breath. I couldn't see Erandur's face, but he was nodding to himself while he looked closely at them, then put his hand over his heart like he does when he prays. They explained to Lydia and I that the Butcher's messing with Old, Dark Magic. The type that uses hair and blood. Valdimar said you could hardly call it magic. It's more like a force of nature. Erandur called the Butcher a fool for thinking he could control something like that. If he got it right and it worked, it would go badly for him, and maybe for all of Windhelm.

Lydia was very quiet through all this, and then asked if she was crazy for thinking that the Butcher is "building" a woman for himself?

I'm pretty sure we were all thinking it, but hearing it put so plainly made me shiver. Erandur used the word "nauseating" and I think that's the best way to describe the whole thing.

We kept looking, and upstairs we found more Butcher papers from Viola. Under a pile of them we found a strange amulet. It's got a carving of a skull (I think? It's really worn down) on it made of jade, eight sides, and it's surrounded with ebony.

None of us knows what it means. We'll ask around to see if anyone knows what it is.

I need to tell the guards about the secret room, but I want to find Viola, first. Her name is all over this, and I know everyone says she's just a busybody, but someone might have actually told her something. She's worth asking.

-/-/-/-/-/-

At the Cornerclub for a late lunch. It took a while to find Viola, and she doesn't really know anything about the Butcher. Still, I showed her the journals and the amulet. She suggested that I talk to Calixto, the first person I talked to at Susanna's murder. He has a museum in town and collects strange artifacts. He might know something about the amulet. She also suggested that Wuunfurth the (not)Unliving might be the Butcher.

Not a bad guess, honestly. I asked a few guards while we looked for Voila, and they suggested the same thing. Apparently he's got a bit of a reputation. People have suspected he's a necromancer for a while.

We're going to talk to Wuunfurth, but first we're going to Calixto.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Having dinner at Candlehearth Hall. We're going to relax and conserve our energy.

Tonight we hunt the Butcher.

Windhelm really is a maze. I hope it doesn't slow us down! Finding Calixto's was hard enough.

We ran into a Dunmer woman I've seen at Candlehearth Hall talking with a boy named Grimvar. They were talking about Aventus Aretino, the boy everyone says is trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood. The woman told him it was nonsense, but when Grimvar said he was going to ask Aventus out to play she stopped him. She said the house was cursed.

I asked her about it and she said the rumors were true. The child really was trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood. She explained that his mother passed away recently and he was sent to an orphanage, but then came back. Sometimes she can hear chanting coming from the house.

No one's checked on him. Poor kid - I know how it is. I'll poke my head in when we're done with this Butcher business and see if he's all right.

The lady directed us to Calixto's, which wasn't far down the street. When we walked in he welcomed us to "Calixto's House of Curiosities" and offered a tour for two gold pieces.

I decided to take his little tour and see if he really was as knowledgeable as people say he is.

Interestingly enough, the first display on his tour was a set of ancient Nord embalming tools.

They're very clean, but so was everything else he had on display.

At the end of the tour I asked him how he found his "treasures" and he explained that he and his sister adventured all over Tamriel to collect strange artifacts after their parents died. She passed away, so he settled in Whiterun and opened the museum. I showed him the amulet and he called it the Wheelstone. He said it was an old symbol of the power of Windhelm, and that it was traditionally carried by the court mage. He offered to buy it off me for 500 septims, but I declined.

I pointed out that the court mage should have it, and he said that Wuunfurth had no use for it. Besides, he was rumored to be a necromancer. When I said I was keeping it, he insisted that only a collector would care for it, and asked us to leave.

He didn't seem too happy about me keeping it, which made me more determined to talk to Wuunfurth.

The others didn't think it was a good idea to talk with the mage, so I told them about Madame Talia back in the Capital as we walked to the palace. Everyone said she was a witch who murdered her husband, and at first I believed them. She definitely looked the part. She only wore black, she was all hunched over, walked with a cane, she had a raspy voice, wild hair, and her eyes were milky white.

In reality, she was just a very old, semi-retired alchemist whose husband was careless in the lab. She wore black because she was in mourning. She had a bend in her spine from being stooped over her workbench for decades, so of course she needed a cane. The vapors and smoke from the compounds she mixed roughened her voice and turned her nearly blind. How could she be expected to do her hair when she could hardly see? She'd pay us in sweets for bringing her what ingredients we could find, or for running errands for her. She's who got me interested in alchemy, all those years ago.

We knew her for less than a year, but she felt like family, at the end.

The others got my point.

Besides, we've been to see Wuunfurth before. He was just a VERY old mage, and someone of his skill would have no problem raising a zombie. Hells, I could do it! Why would he need to construct a body to raise it from the dead?

We went in to see Wuunfurth, and luckily got in unnoticed as we usually did. We found him in his chambers, having a snack. I asked him about the necromancy rumors, and he was more than a bit angry about it. He's a member in good standing of the College of Winterhold, after all!

I showed him the amulet, and he said that it was the Necromancer's Amulet, so I was on the right track thinking necromancy was involved. Turns out, he'd been trying to solve these murders as well, so I showed him the journals.

He flipped through them and said that he had an idea of when the next murder would take place. It seems they're carefully timed. Something to do with the stars or whatever.

Old Magic.

He said that the next murder would probably happen tomorrow night, in the Stone Quarter.

I told him we'd be on the lookout, and we came back here to rest and wait for nightfall. I know he said tomorrow, but I don't want to take any chances.

-/-/-/-/-/-

CALIXTO IS THE BUTCHER!

We went out and wandered through the cemetery, then checked the market. There, I saw Calixto pull a knife from his belt and go to stab a woman in the back!

I set him on fire, and he turned on us.

He was dead in seconds. I think we all got one good hit in, including Septim.

I have no idea who the lady was. It was dark and she ran as soon as the fighting started, so at least she's all right.

I searched Calixto's body and found a key to his house, among other things. We were going to tell Jorlief first, but it was almost midnight. So, even though we're all dead tired, we decided to check his house and see if there was any more proof that he was the killer.

We found it. Even thinking about it makes my skin crawl.

Another journal, in a chest in the loft, along with a pile of embalming tools. In it he wrote to his dead sister, Lucilla, and said he would "hold her soon".

Yeah. He was killing women so he could build his sister a new body, then put her spirit back in it.

We all looked at each other for a second after I read it aloud, then Lydia asked if anyone else felt like Calixto… REALLY liked his sister?

Again, Lydia speaks the words we would rather not say.

If you've read this far you know I'm a crook, so of course I stole all I could from the place. There were a lot of alchemy ingredients that would just go to waste otherwise!

I also took some of his trinkets, even though I'm pretty sure they're rubbish. Why not?

But for now, sleep. We'll talk to Jorlief in the morning and let him know what happened.

#skyrim #writing #journal #rpg #fiction #the elder scrolls #tesblr #fanfic #bronwens journal #the elder scrolls skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fanfic #windhelm #murder #calixto #candlehearth hall #wuunfurth the unliving

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the-firebird69 · 1 year ago

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There are a few companies that are coming forwards that are very huge besides power generation there are companies that make power plant equipment they make generators and they make a lot of equipment for power plants and they do a lot of that they also build things that are fixers and for a safety and gangways catwalks

-presale's agreement for three of those companies and they're very big each one of them each one has a full line from generators to boilers to incinerators stacks and scrubbers and so on mulchers and so on and we are going to purchase the company's at 20% at this point

-power distribution companies there are three big ones we are in presales with two of them for 20%. They are very very big huge you have no idea 20% is gigantic it's gigantic

-and a few other companies and we have to take a break solidly we will say presales for lumber production from Grace and they used to do waterproofing and so forth but now they do lumber they are 10% of the lumber business but we have 70% in already and presails for 40% today

-we also are in talks for furniture companies and cabinet companies and finish lumber companies doors railings and all sorts of siding and trim and flooring there's about 80 of these companies then there are five big ones and he knows some of the names and carpet companies tile companies most of these companies we are in pre-sale agreements with today for 20% and that would be John reborn Lord the rest will leave shortly behind the max are leaving these guys are leaving too and foreigners will be remaining for the most part these guys hogged it. And mostly Tommy f and the max the morlocks are leaving to go to combat and it's true

-we have some more presale companies Glidden and other paint companies we have 20% of the top five to pre-purchase agreements today

-there are several coating companies that are five big ones four out of those we have 20% free purchase sale agreements today and yes from chumpster mostly trumpsters

-they're also some other companies and they are drywall companies and other type of wallboard blue boards cement board green board there are 50 but we're going to buy two of the biggest at 20% each and yes they're coming from Trump

-there are 50 companies that provide pavers and things like that was for landscaping and two of them are big and we're buying 20% of each in a presale agreement

Are these material suppliers are not producing and when we go there we expect they'll be infighting and things like that and we want to start producing and we will weed out troublemakers it will make it much easier here

:along with the presale we have several companies that have recently stepped forward and asked for purchase agreements and it was today and they're pretty big

-the purchase of 40% of dahlmer Chrysler engine company. We were going to do a pre-purchase and it did not go for us we're doing a purchase instead it's not controlling share but we expect 10% more to come later this week

-the purchase of 50% of Harley-Davidson motors company yes they backed out of 100% and they want to see what we can do and they are interested in a lighter motor and they don't want to lighten up the same size but they do like the idea of larger fins and we're going to show them we have them made and they're in Harley-Davidsons and they're ready. About 200 lb less on the big motors and they produce about 30 more horsepower and 20 more foot pounds of torque and will show them the stats and show them the testing and driving around for quite a while and it works and if the liquid fails the air cooling works very well and it's nice it's a very high quality motor and for less money and moving forward we have other companies approaching us

-Chrysler automotive and for the main Auto company we are in discussions yes and they are talking about 40% and we are talking about a bunch of different cars and designs and we know what they're up to but times are different and they seemingly don't understand but this is what they want to do they want to discuss the sale of that amount of stock

-Dodge automotive company this is the big dodge company with trucks and cars and they are interested in selling 40% roughly and they want to see what we can do and we're going to get in there and revamp it to get it running again set it up and move pretty fast take out automatic shut off and replace the fuse and put an EMP systems and inexpensive so a few wires and that's it and get the company going and talks with us today

-Lincoln the same deal 40% and we want to get it going

-there are a couple of the companies that want to talk to us about having us invest and we will be interested in helping the companies get going and we've done it before it is difficult they're tough people to talk to but it works one of them is a subsidiary of bath iron it's in Massachusetts and it builds small boats and they are used all the time and for patrol lobstering monitoring and doing the harbor area in the rivers it'll be a nice addition to what we're doing and we would start making posts all over the place. We're in talks with them for 30% and they may want us to buy more when we tell them what we're up to

-you're the swedish company that does shelves and so forth your closet and they're interested in talking to us and he gets a pamphlet every week and it's like fire my closet is the size of a surfboard and they want to talk today about 70% and his closet organizer company and it's a great company people love it they do installations and they want to know if there's another way to do that and our son and daughter say you have home Depot install and they say they won't do it or can't and they will and so we can talk to them about and they have carpentry companies and they do the work all the time and we do know how to sell them all right

-couple more presale they're definitely free sale we have talked to them and it is a large company out of New England it is a hops company and not barley and we are thinking about it they want to do a presale and I know we're doing a presale and we already thought about it the 20% of the company and I'm getting into that industry I'm trying to get in

-presale for 20% of a barley company and they are not the same company they say but they really are and we're not sure what they're doing but okay we know howe to put them together. And it's not a beer company it's hops and barley and the import and they ship it over there. It has to be cleaned and stored and dried properly and it is a trade and a son and daughter know that that's how you do it because you have to have a surplus and you have to have storage companies or you never have enough beer or you have way too much and pleased you understand it. He's trying to explain we do the best food processing that you can imagine and they know that so after it's not appreciated and see if they can help us get there haffanreffer company. So they're going to throw their hat in the ring and try and do that and they might help him run it it says that's great we have to have beer testers and he's joking of course with that we're going to call it a night

Thor Freya

Olympus

Yeah okay Mr verbose

Hera

I got to go to sleep I'm pretty sure I can't do anything if I stay up all night

Zues

Yeah youhave to do laundry terrific Jesus Christ that's horrible

Hera

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to-star-lake · 3 years ago

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in the early days when you joined bonten as their new advisor, you spent a lot of time with koko; drawing up business plans, managing the books, overseeing construction on new clubs and buildings.

koko had the nicest office of all of the bonten leaders. it was on the top floor of a highrise in the middle of the shibuya business district. complete with high-end leather and mahogany furniture, and a gorgeous city view.

you'd spent time with each of the bonten executives when you joined and koko was probably your favorite to work with. you found takeomi too serious, kakucho boorish, mochi too macho, the haitani's were exhausting, and sanzu..well..

koko was like you; blunt and efficient with work, a little impatient, maybe a little condescending. you enjoyed your daily work with him in his office. it was always quiet, productive, and his assistants always served the best sencha.

except today.

today when you walked in through the mahogany double doors that led to his office, you were almost decked in the face by a toy rubber basketball.

"he shoots! he scores? no! he misses!" you heard a voice yell, followed by a maniacal cackling.

what...the hell is this? the floor of koko's office, which was normally clean, surgically clean, was littered with teddy bears, squeak toys, board games with their pieces strewn about haphazardly, a jump rope, a putting green, and a trash bin overflowing with crumpled candy wrappers.

the rubber basketball that almost hit your head rolled towards the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one end of the room and you saw a kiddie basketball hoop attached to one of the shelves. and below that, sanzu, flopped on his stomach on the floor, a different flavored ring pop on each of his fingers.

"koko..i'm really bad at basketball," he grumbled, picking himself up and walked over to koko's desk, slamming his hands down on the surface, the sudden gust of wind almost blowing the stack of papers in front of koko away.

"oh no, well, why don't you go try the putt putt?" koko sighed, not even looking up from his work, waving his hand in the air like he was shooing away a fly. "ah, y/n! finally, someone sane. please, get over here, i need you to look at something," koko waved you over when he noticed you standing in the doorway.

you made your way across the minefield of toys on the floor and greeted sanzu as he walked past you. "good morning," you smiled cordially.

he sauntered past you, looking down at you through bloodshot, half-shut eyes, his usual sinister smile plastered wide across his face. he'd opened his mouth to say, "good morning, little prin-" but then stepped on a pile of toy soldiers and tripped, tumbling to the floor, his long limbs getting all tangled up in themselves.

"uh... hey, koko?" you took a seat in the armchair beside the desk, setting your laptop down on the tabletop. "what's going on here? where's mikey?"

koko let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes. "sometimes mikey goes off on his own, and when he does, the rest of us have to take turns...babysitting," he nodded at the gangly man with bubblegum colored hair with a plastic toy putter in his hands. "i pulled the short straw today," he sighed, pushing the large binder of documents he was looking at over to you.

"koko!!"

"jesus, what now?" koko looked up, so annoyed you could almost see the steam coming out his ears.

"there's no balls," sanzu pointed at the putting green on the floor.

"well, who decided to ambush people by pelting them with the balls outside the bathroom last time?"

sanzu stared back at koko blankly.

"ugh, nevermind. could you play with something else? y/n and i have work to do." koko scooted his seat closer to you, and began circling a few line items on the page in front of you. "got this today from the guys over at the club in akasaka. these totals look off to you?"

you glanced over the document, and flipped back a few pages and reviewed the itemized lists also included in the binder. "damn," you said, looking up at koko. "these assholes are skimming."

koko opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a sudden loud popping noise. both of you turned to see sanzu on the floor, pulling the heads off of a pile of barbie and ken dolls.

koko raised his hands to his temples, the frown lines between his eyebrows deepening by the second. "jesus christ, this psychotic clown, if he wasn't the number 2 I swear to god-” he muttered under his breath.

"hey, sanzu?" you called out and sanzu's head jerked up to look at you, his eyes suddenly bright and attentive, like a child amongst the sea of toys on the floor.

"yes, princess?" he called back.

"could you go on a coffee run for us?"

sanzu tilted his head a little, confused. "a coffee...run?"

"yeah...you know, to buy coffee?"

he blinked, still confused.

"to buy...starbucks?"

"ah! you want me to buy you starbucks," he suddenly shot up.

"yes! yes, please, for me and koko, that would be great," you smiled, thinking you were finally getting somewhere with him.

he walked over to the desk. "anything for you, princess. and you can call me haru," he hummed, taking a bright pink ring pop off his finger and sliding it onto your ring finger, and a blue one onto koko's ring finger. "be back in a flash."

he turned to walk out of the office, whistling and not bothering to avoid the toys scattered on the floor, simply stepping on them as he went.

the doors closed behind him and you turned to koko, "now we can get some work done."

"let's hope he takes his time," koko rolled his eyes, sliding the ring pop off his finger, holding onto only the plastic part as gingerly as possible, a disgusted look on his face because he could tell sanzu had definitely licked the candy already.

"is it always like this when mikey's away?"

"sanzu? yeah, pretty much. but mikey tolerates him cus he's been with him longer than any of us, he's his loyal mad dog," koko sighed. "but that bastard's insane. apparently back in the day he got moved back and forth between all of mikey's captains cus nobody could handle him."

"wow. yeah, i guess i can see that," you glanced over at all the toys scattered on the floor. "seems pretty tough for you too."

"oh, i've actually done the best with him," koko scoffed. "last time, he was the haitani brothers' responsibility, they decided to take him to a hostess club. thought it'd be a good distraction for him. crazy maniac decided to pay for all the women there."

"all of them? that's..that's a lot-"

"no, that's not the crazy part. he paid for all the women, and then made them line up against the wall with liquor bottles on top of their heads and he used them for target practice." koko ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "anyway, who knows when he's gonna be back so we should try to get as much done as possible while he's away."

you nodded. the two of you worked dilligently, reviewing the rest of the books collected from bonten's other clubs and businesses in town, making one stack for ones that pass, and one that required additional scrutiny.

after a while, you stretched your arms up over your head, noticing the sun hung high in the sky and glanced at the clock on the wall. it read 12:15.

"i wonder where he is," you said, realizing it'd been almost two and a half hours since he left.

"who knows what that lunatic gets up to," koko sighed, turning the page of the binder he was leafing through.

"i actually could've used some coffee though," you yawned.

"i can have my girls make some sencha-"

just then the doors to his office burst open, and sanzu staggered in, eyes blood red, a blue gift bag in one hand, the other dragging a giant 10-foot teddy bear behind him.

"and suddenly my headache's back," koko muttered and sanzu approached the two of you at the desk.

sanzu dragged the huge teddy bear over and plopped it beside you. "i got this for you, princess."

"hah..um...where'd you get this..giant thing?" you didn't even know where to begin.

"there's a carnival downtown. i got it playing a shooting game," he grinned from ear to ear. koko groaned, knowing sanzu, by 'shooting game' he probably meant he threatened to shoot the person manning the booth if he didn't give him the bear.

"hah..i see, thank you. but why is it missing its eyes?" you asked, looking at the bear's face and noticing the eyeballs had been ripped out, only some tattered threads remained in the sockets.

"they were ugly," sanzu shrugged. "koko, i got you something too," he dropped the gift bag down in front of koko.

"thanks.." koko reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny cross-stitched sweater which could've only been made for an infant. "uh...dude, what is this?"

"it's a sweater for your chihuahua," sanzu explained, yawning and plopping down onto a chair by the desk.

"i don't have a chihuahua?"

"i could've sworn you did," sanzu tilted his head, as though in deep thought. "oh, i guess it's just you that's always yapping. it's amazing y/n puts up with this every day," he laughed, but his tone was filled with hostility.

you saw koko's body tense in your periphery and you quickly spoke up to diffuse the sudden tension. "haru, did you get coffee?"

"coffee? oh! the starbucks. yes, i did."

you stared back at him. "that's great, uh...so where is it?"

"on the corner of harajuku square, by yoyogi station," he smiled.

"what?"

"oh my god," koko groaned, raising his palms to his eyes and rubbing them in circles.

you looked back and forth between koko and sanzu.

koko took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, turning to look at you. "he bought the starbucks."

#sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #bonten x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu fluff #sanzu x reader #despite being no.2 sanzu is bonten's baby you can't convince me otherwise #bontens murder baby #he just needs to be entertained ok #and he's just a *little* jealous of you and koko

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ryverbind · 2 years ago

Text

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Prologue

"Move, move, move!"

I left the awful, deteriorating city of Nockfell when I was ten years old. It was worth it-- I've always said that. I had nothing in that town; the population went down each day and hell, it was starting to look like I'd die there too.

I had to leave all of my friends behind, but at least we kept in touch. I only had three friends, anyway. Being able to keep those three around meant more to me than the fear of moving to a bigger city. Nothing was scary as long as I had my few friends.

"I'm trying! This guy in front of me is being stupid!"

Moving didn't mean much at the time, but it did leave me very lonely. Both of my parents were and still are workaholics, so I grew up pretty alone. Well, I did until mom and dad got divorced.

I think mom was the driving force behind dad's need to work so much. She was a drama queen.

Dad and I live in the heart of Los Angeles now. We moved here from San Diego just last year. He has his normal job that makes enough-- otherwise we wouldn't be in such a big city-- but making enough isn't always... enough over here.

"Go around him maybe!?"

But I've learned to work around that. Dad has, too. I have a mediocre job at a diner to pay for expenses and to help with some at-home things.

After all, life in one of America's most famous-- and most expensive-- city's won't pay for itself.

"Shut up, Ash! Fuck, why won't this person just move!?"

Though, I wish there was something I could do to make more money. Something to give me more freedom instead of being cramped in dad and I's little apartment. Something easier than breaking my back for pissy customers that won't even tip.

Honestly, I want something easier for me and dad.

And still, I find myself sitting in front of the TV in my living room-- mint chocolate chip ice cream in my hand as I watch my childhood friend fuck shit up on her most recent Youtube video.

The best part about this small, suffocating apartment is that it's on one of the highest floors. Sure, I have quite the elevator ride to take when I come home and sometimes I'm late to work because I miscalculate the time it'll take me to get down to the bottom floor-- but it's so worth it.

Our balcony doors are cracked open, the curtains pulled away to show the busy streets of Los Angeles below. The city is a beauty, that's for sure. The sun and headlights are always reflecting off of the tall, glass buildings which make for quite the light show-- and I have free tickets.

Early morning light filters into my dim living room. A stray golden ray forms a rift in the drab darkness of the rest of the room, illuminating a stripe across the back of the couch, across my legs, and then all the way to the other end of the room. I take note of dust that seems to float on the small stream of light as I redirect my focus from the Youtube video that's currently playing.

This apartment can only get so dark. When I say dim, it's still pretty bright. Our apartment is like any modern apartment-- it's new and filled with neutral colors, making it seem bright and inviting. Our walls are an eggshell white color. Our furniture is a mix of beige and black fabric, never leather because dad hates the feeling of it. And any wooden furniture is black, as well as our carpet.

It's simple, modern, sleek. It's everything a Los Angeles resident could want.

Right?

"Dammit, Sally! You cost us that entire game!"

My best friend's shrill scream pulls my attention back to the television. I see her face in the bottom left corner, her brows furrowed and mouth wide open in a mixture of shock and anger. Her cheeks turn a rosy shade as she begins scolding the guy in the mask at the top right of the screen.

They're playing Call of Duty.

"All you had to do was move around the glitched dumbass, are you kidding me?" Ash bellows. "How long have you been playing this game? I thought you were the pro. Give me my fucking crown."

Sally Face, the guy in the mask, or as he calls it, a prosthetic, snorts into the microphone. His head bobs with laughter, showing that he finds Ash's anger quite amusing. "Ash, if I could have moved around the guy, I would have. I was glitched, too." He pushes a veiny hand through his pretty hair. "I will never revoke my crown."

Sally Face is confusing in my brain. He has unnatural, bright cerulean hair. It's fluffy and full of layers, creating a pretty interesting texture to accompany the fringe that always hangs over his prosthetic.

His style is a contrast to his blue hair— dark, mainly all black clothing. He's always wearing either a plethora of different necklaces or just one that no one has ever seen before. He has chipped, black nail polish— no matter how many times he streams, it's always the same. I've never seen a fresh coat on his nails.

My favorite, and undoubtedly the most distracting, part about him happens to be the rings and bracelets he wears. He has plenty, much like his necklaces. Most times, Sally Face is wearing the same wrap-around snake ring with a black finish and a silver one with unique carvings and a garnet gem. He has a ton of cute fan-made bracelets that say different things, like "Cogito Ergo Sum" and "SF."

And he has this accent, a very attractive one. It's not too strong and I can't put my finger on what kind of accent it is, but I find myself holding onto his every word. There's just something about the way he articulates certain sounds.

Not like I'd admit it, but sometimes I rewind a YouTube video just to hear the way he says "water" or "coffee" again.

Is that down bad-ish of me?

Larry catches my attention, effectively dragging me back to earth from my simping thoughts. His face is in the top left corner of the screen; he pinches his lips together and shakes his head. "Will you two stop bickering? It's just a game," he says, shifting in his chair to get into a more comfortable position.

"Who stole Larry? Because you are not him," Todd's voice cuts in just as Larry finishes speaking. His face is in the bottom right corner. "You're supposed to be the shit-starter, not the shit-stopper," Todd continues, chuckling.

Larry snorts. "Maybe I'm just feeling different today. Ever thought of that, Todd? Huh?"

"You guys are insufferable," Ash scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. She leans back in her chair, showing off her headset. It's super cute with little cat ears that change colors. "I'm taking away friend rights. I'm all for y/n now."

I perk up at the mention of my name. She never talks about me online-- not that I blame her. We agreed to pretty much keep our friendship private.

"Awe, come on, Ash," Larry whines, pouting at the camera. "We have to share y/n, and besides, we love you. You have to take care of us, mom," he jokes.

"Y/n is mine, thank you very much," Ash chirps, smiling wickedly. "And, for your information, I am not your mother so I can very easily dip out of your life."

"Fuck, it's like my dad all over again," Larry says. Everyone is silent, suddenly afraid to say a word as Larry's dad is a sore subject. But Larry starts giggling at his own joke.

"Stop making fun of such a serious situation, Larry," Todd says, holding back little giggles. "I'll go to hell if I laugh. Don't do this to me."

"Ash practically set up the entire joke, Larry just took advantage of the opportunity," Sally Face says, a pretty chuckle leaving his mouth. "But anyway, who's y/n?"

"Oh, shit." Ash slaps a hand over her mouth. "I completely forgot that I mentioned her. I was hoping I'd keep her a secret forever."

I tilt my head, my eyes narrowing as I watch the screen. All four of their characters are idle in the game lobby as they chat with each other.

Shoving a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth, I start to wonder if Ash, Larry, and Todd just... never bothered to mention me to Sally.

As far as I know, Sally Face moved to Nockfell long after I left. He became friends with my friends but I never met him. I never spoke to him. I had heard of him, but I just never bothered to reach out and get to know him.

Just two years ago, at the ripe ages of 21 and 22, the four of them decided to try streaming as a way to make money since there were only so may job opportunities in Nockfell. And wouldn't you know, the group went viral almost immediately.

Larry and Todd are the clowns, Ash is the pretty one with a temper, and Sally Face is the mysterious asshole. Viewers want a face reveal from him so bad and that's exactly why he became the most popular streamer out of the four.

Larry and Todd have about two million subscribers and followers, Ash is nearing 2.5 million, and Sally is at a whopping 3.5 million. They're pretty big.

So, my favorite pass-time is getting to watch all of them play. But today's video is extra spicy.

"We were so busy gatekeeping y/n that we couldn't even tell Sally?" Todd asks, a bit confused. "You know, now that I'm thinking about it-- I really don't think we ever mentioned her."

Larry hums, looking off to the side as he thinks. He chews on his bottom lip, tapping his finger against the armrest of his chair. "I've thought it out," he mumbles after a few moments. "I have no recollection of ever mentioning y/n."

Ash laughs shortly, shaking her head with a soft smile. "Damn. I guess we did a good job at keeping her a secret then."

Sally groans, leaning closer so we can clearly see his left eye in the screen. It's the most striking blue color I think I've ever seen. "Who the fuck is y/n?" He whispers, the microphone right against his prosthetic as he says it. This makes the whisper sound like a scream and, as a result, the other three jump in surprise.

"You don't get to know y/n, she's ours," Larry jokes, sticking his tongue out to tease Sally.

"Okay, fine." Sally backs up, his pretty hands gripping onto the armrests of his chair. He's wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt and a chain around his neck. His nails are painted black and multiple rings adorn his fingers— as per usual. "But is she hot?"

I choke on my bite of ice cream, spluttering pale green all over my dad's black carpet. The thought of staining his beloved carpet doesn't even cross my mind as I stare at the screen with wide eyes, watching as Sally Face waits patiently for his friends to recover from their surprised laughter.

"What's so funny?" Sally asks calmly, electric eyes flitting back and forth across the screen.

Larry takes a deep breath, one last laugh leaving him as he places a hand on his heart. "Bro, I can't even lie. I had the biggest crush on her whenever I knew her. She left a couple years before you came along." Larry winces, like he's just remembering that his millions of viewers will be seeing this video-- including me. "Sorry if you're watching this, y/n. I promise I'm over it but anyone can see that you're adorable." He shrugs, winking at the camera.

I let out an obnoxious laugh, a smile forming on my lips as I continue watching. Larry has always been hilarious, though I never knew he had a crush on me.

Todd closes his left eye, a little quirk of his. He always does this when he's thinking. "Well," he sighs, tapping his index finger against his arm. "She's beautiful, I'll say that. But I'm gay, so like, I'm not Larry. I've never wanted to fuck her. Unlike someone, apparently."

Larry shoots forward, a serious expression on his face as he starts yelling out to defend himself. "Fuck off, Todd! I never said I wanted to fuck her, I just said I had a crush on her! She's hot!"

This has gotten a bit crazy. When I sat down to watch this video after Ash begged me to put it on earlier, I expected to giggle a bit and relax on my one off-day of the week. I didn't expect to be hearing about famous streamers, who are also my friends, wanting to dick me down.

I feel like I've just worked a double shift.

I place my melting carton of ice cream on the wooden floor at the foot of the couch, my eyes never straying from the TV screen as I watch Larry and Todd bicker.

Ash and Sally watch, seemingly just as horrified as I am.

After a couple seconds, Larry runs a hand down his face, sighing as he listens to Todd get a good laugh out of the situation.

"Okay," Sally awkwardly drags out the word. "So we have one vote for hot, one vote for beautiful. What's your opinion of the mysterious y/n, Ash?"

Ash hums, smiling brightly. "I vote both. Y/n is the hottest and most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Sally Face nods his head and I smile. Ash has always been so kind to me, though I think she, Larry, and Todd are hyping my looks up a bit too much. I'm not the hottest or the most beautiful.

"So the important question now, Ash, is would you fuck y/n?" Sally asks. What a dick.

I scoff at the screen, scrunching my face up. He knows that we're all close, clearly. Todd and Larry joking with each other about his crush is all in good fun, but the tone in Sally's voice shows that he's trying to start shit.

Ash narrows her eyes, "Yes, actually, I would."

I pause the video, my smile so wide that it genuinely hurts. I debate calling Ash for a moment just to give her a little smooch through the phone and tell her how much I love her. But I can always call her later. There's only two minutes left of the video anyway.

Larry chortles, Todd following with a very similar sign of amusement.

Sally nods, humming again. "Okay. Two points for hot, two points for beautiful. Those ratings are pretty good."

He pauses, lifting a hand and suddenly waving them off dismissively. "But you guys have terrible taste, so I doubt she lives up to the hype you guys gave her."

What the fuck did he just say?

I shoot up into a sitting position, scooting toward the edge of the couch with my jaw dragging along the fabric. Did I hear that correctly?

Sally looks into the camera. I feel like he's staring me directly in the eye, a sarcastic and cocky look in his gaze as he says, "Sorry, Y/n Whoever-You-Are."

Come again?

—————————

A/N:::::

I don't have much planned for this book just yet, but most of you know what I'm about. Expect angst, expect comedy, and most of all, EXPECT SPICE!

THIS IS JUST A PROLOGUE TO GIVE EVERYONE A TASTE AND I WILL NOT BE UPDATING AGAIN UNTIL I AM FINISHED WITH MY OTHER BOOK!

Sorry for the caps, just wanna make it loud and out there :P

As always, I love you all so much and I'm so excited to start this new, lovely journey with you guys :3

~Ryver <3

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chrisevansjellybeans · 4 years ago

Text

Undercover | Mob!Steve Rogers

I saw this post by @rosierose-e and got inspired to write this mob! Steve Rogers smut. All mistakes are my own.

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS! Love you all and appreciate the support immensely! Thank you :)

Warning: Smut!!! NSFW choking, cockwarming, swearing

Part Two

Word Count: 5k

You squinted as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The weight of the false lashes a foreign feeling on your eyes. You felt like a clown. This was not you at all. You wore the basics: some foundation, concealer, blush, mascara and if you were really feeling fancy a lip gloss. But nothing heavy. One, your skin was unforgiving and if you went heavier than the BB cream you used you would have pimples for days. Two, in your line of work heavy makeup just wasn’t ideal.

“Wow, you look amazing.” You looked up in the mirror to see the rookie Peter Parker getting into the van behind you. Peter was sweet, a little naive, but a good agent nonetheless. He had joined the force about three months ago and Director Fury had insisted he learn from the best, so now he was your partner for the remainder of the year.

“Thanks, Pete.” You sighed as you straightened up, pulling the hem of the skin tight black dress down only to have it bunch up again. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Well you don’t look it.” He handed you a cup of coffee and you took it with a grateful smile. You needed all the caffeine you could get tonight.

Tonight you were going undercover at the notorious Red White and Blue Gala hosted by none other than notorious mob boss Steve Rogers. It was his lame attempt and pretending to be an upstanding citizen but hosting an event in honor of the men and women in service. A good cause but for a bad reason. It was rumored that more than just helpful charity happened at this event.

You and the rest of your team had been tailing Rogers for close to two years. Trying to get anything to tie the bastard down to all the crimes you knew his organization was behind. But he was good at his job. Leaving no trace evidence that could link any of the nefarious acts back to him.

He was a cocky son of a bitch and you wanted to be the one to nail him.

Peter glanced down at the watch on his wrist before clapping his hands together. “Almost showtime, partner.”

You felt your hands get clammy as the nerves started to wrack your body. You had done undercover work before in the last seven years you’ve been a part of the force but there was something different about this one. Something more dangerous. Steve Rogers was a dangerous man.

You turned back to the mirror and fixed your hair and makeup one last time before letting out a long breath. You again tried to pull down the hem of the dress but with no avail. You wanted badly to be mad at the catering company that you had been able to infiltrate but you knew that this was probably the work of Rogers. Sick bastard.

You slipped on the four inch heels they gave you and you nearly stumbled into Peter as you tried to take a step. Heels. Another thing not usually worn in your line of business.

“Okay, this is a listening device.” Peter explained as he pinned a small but beautiful butterfly pin on your right breast. You couldn’t help but chuckle as his hands fumbled as he accidentally grazed over where your nipple would be. “Sorry.”

“It’s a boob, Parker. It’s fine.” Peter just nodded before finishing pinning it.

“Anyway,” he continued. “It’ll be recording everything that we need and coming right back here to my feed in the van. It’s small enough that it won’t get detected by any scanners. Unfortunately we won’t be able to communicate but if you say ‘pineapple’ we’ll come in and get you out.”

“Pineapple.” You said more to yourself than to Peter.

“Pineapple. And I mean, Y/N. Anything starts to get fishy you get out of there. Roger’s is ruthless.”

“I know.” You patted his shoulder. “Thanks for looking out for me, rook.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushed you out the van. “Kick ass, partner.”

You gave him a small salute before turning around and following another group of girls dressed just like you into the expansive mansion in front of you.

You tried not to be too awestruck as you took in the structure of the building. It looked like something out of an old mystery novel. The entire place was dark. Dark wood and dark furniture. The lights all a dimmed tan light that fed into the mysterious atmosphere. Your eyes darted to the artwork that littered the wall, all depictions of a fall from grace.

Is that how you see yourself, Rogers? A fallen angel?

“Hey!” You snapped back to attention as a frantic voice called over to you. “What the hell are you doing? Get to the kitchen.”

You bit your tongue as you glared at the rude man before following the rest of the women into the kitchen.

Dressed all like you, there were probably about twenty other women there. All of them easily could have been supermodels. The rude man pushed you towards a group of about three of them who were all balancing drinks on a tray.

“Grab one and go.” The man, Stan you gathered from his nametag, said before turning to another group of women. You picked up a tray and prayed to all powers in the universe that the combination of full glasses of wine and these heels didn’t cause you to completely embarrass yourself.

The ballroom was huge. You suddenly felt very small as you wandered around the room, offering drinks to some of New York’s most high profile residents. You kept your eyes peeled for the familiar mob boss. Your heart rate sped up as you noticed him across the room, chatting with a beautiful woman. You watched as he leaned down and whispered something to her, causing her to blush before playfully pushing his shoulder. He just smirked before turning his attention to the man on the other side of him-Clint Barton, completely ignoring her now, but she still stayed by his side watching his every move.

Pathetic.

You had to get to him. Get him alone and get him talking. But how?

“Well aren’t you the prettiest thing in the room.” You felt yourself stiffen as a pair of hands wandered down your back and rested on your hip. The smell of expensive cologne attacking your senses.

Slowly you turned around to find James “Bucky” Barnes looking at you like a predator to its prey. Bucky, was Steve’s right hand man. His best friend. He was handsome. Dark hair, even darker blue eyes and a smirk, that if he was anyone else, would have your panties melted off before you could even blink. You glanced down at the infamous metal arm that was hidden underneath an expensive suit jacket, but his hand flexed slightly as he noticed you looking at it.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You forced out. “Can I offer you a drink?” You pushed the tray between the two of you in offering and also creating more space.

“No, I’m all set, doll.” He raised his glass of scotch. “Just wanted to talk to a pretty thing like you.”

“There are plenty of other beautiful women here.” You said, your voice slightly cold. You hoped he would get the hint.

“None quite like you.” He smirked and you fought everything in you to roll your eyes.

“Does that line actually work?”

Bucky took a step back at your bluntness. You see out of the corner of your eye, Rogers and Barton start to head towards the door. You had to make a move, because if he left to go do business he might not come back down for a while.

“It was nice talking to you, Mr. Barnes.” You quickly moved past him, ignoring his short “wait”. You rushed, but not too obviously, towards where Steve was heading. If you went fast enough you could cut him off. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you tripped over your heels, the tray in your hand shooting forward and the glasses of red wine landing square on Steve Rogers’ suit.

“What the fuck?” The room went silent at his angry outburst. You stumbled as you tried to stand up, but were immediately hoisted up when his large hands wrapped around the tops of your arms.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” You sputtered. For a moment you forgot where you were. Why you were here. His blue eyes, dark with fury, scanned your face as he held your arms. You had never really taken a good look at him. All pictures in his file weren’t anything special or high definition. But now, seeing him up close? You were beginning to understand the woman from earlier giddiness.

He was beautiful.

You bit your lip as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. You suddenly felt very aware of your body and the fact that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Go.” He pushed you towards the door he had been walking to with Barton. You walked through the door with shaky legs as you heard him mutter something to Barton before following you.

“Sir, I’m so-”

“Shut up.” He growled as he stepped through the door, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him. “Walk.”

You hesitated. You didn’t know where he wanted you to walk to. Grumbling, Steve once again pushed you forward and you just started walking down the hallway. As you walked down you noticed a door that was slightly ajar. You glanced in while walking past and took note of the firearms and drugs that were very obviously there.

“Keep. Walking.” Steve’s voice was harsh in your ear before you heard him slam the door shut.

“Yes, sir.” you muttered.

The two of you continued to walk until you made it to the room at the end of the hall. Tentatively you opened it, waiting for any different direction, but Steve remained silent behind you so you continued.

The room was...different. It was very different from the dark vibe of the rest of the house. There was a large bay window to your left that overlooked the back of the house that homed a large garden and pool. The walls were painted a soft beige and the furniture a lighter wood than the rest of the house. Even the bed was covered in a white duvet that looked like a cloud just waiting to be jumped on. It was homey. It was nice.

“Mr. Rogers-”

“Who do you work for?” He demanded, shutting the door.

You froze. You tried hard to make sure your face didn’t give away anything as he stared you down. You didn’t let your gaze falter as he stalked closer to you.

“Lee’s Catering.” You answered earnestly.

“Bullshit.” He was now only a foot away from you. His broad shoulders heaving as he raked you up and down. “I know every single girl that works for Stan. I’ve never seen you before. So answer me again and honestly this time. Who the fuck do you work for?”

“So he’s not allowed to hire new girls?” You snapped, immediately covering your mouth with your hand.

Fuck.

“Watch your tone with me, sweetheart. You’re on very thin ice right now.” He closed the final gap between the two of you and you gasped when his hand went around your throat, but not tightening enough to cut off any oxygen.

“That old bat isn’t allowed to hire anyone that I haven’t vetted.” He hissed in your ear. You shuttered as the vibrato of his voice sent shivers straight down to your core.

“Please.” Your voice came out in a whisper as your eyes pleaded with him.

Steve opened his mouth but nothing came out, his nose brushed along the curve of your neck and you sucked in a breath as his mouth latched onto the sensitive spot underneath your jaw.

“Strip.” He commanded, pushing you back causing you to fall onto the bed.

“What?”

“Take off your fucking clothes so I can see if you’re wired.” He snapped. You slowly pulled at the hem of your dress before drawing it up your body and over your head. Before you could fully get it off he stopped you. Your heart stopped as he reached over to the butterfly pin and pulled it off the dress. You watched in horror as he walked to his door, opening it and calling out to someone at the end of the hall.

“Yeah boss?” You tried to see him, but Steve’s frame was blocking the small opening in the door.

“Take this and run a test. Let me know if it’s bugged.” He demanded before closing the door. When he turned around he raised an expectant eyebrow at you letting you know you still had to take off the dress. You resumed your actions and turned your face away when his eyes flared at the matching set of red lingerie you had on underneath.

“See? No wires.” You whispered.

Steve didn’t say anything as he stalked towards you, rolling up the sleeves to the dress shirt he had on. Your body flushed as he leaned over you, his strong arms resting on either side of your chest. Slowly, he moved on hand to the strap of your bra before lowering it down off your shoulder. His thumb brushed over your pebbling nipple and you wanted to smack the smirk that formed on his face straight off.

“I better double check you’re not hiding anything anywhere.” He muttered before pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing your left breast. You shuttered as his thumb brushed over it again, this time with no barrier. His mouth was hot as wrapped his lips around the bud, causing you to let out an unwilling moan. Your hips bucked up as his tongue expertly ran over your nipple. His deftly unclipped your bra and moved his mouth to your other breast and continued the same assault. His hands moved down to your hips to steady them from bucking against his growing member.

“Hmm, looks like we’re clear up here.” He chuckled as his lips moved up to your jaw before capturing your mouth with his.

The kiss was fiery and embarrassingly so sent a wave of pleasure down to your aching core. You moaned into the kiss as you ran your fingers through his hair, giving it a tight tug. Steve growled at your movements as he fully leaned into you now, his muscular thighs trapping yours on the bed.

You ran your tongue along his bottom lip before slipping it in to find his own. You nearly came as Steve moaned into your mouth, his hands tightening on you and pulling you up to meet his rutting hips. Using all your strength you spun the two of you around, your mouths still connected, so you were now straddling his pelvis. You pulled away from the kiss and sat up.

Steve slowly opened his eyes, his pupils blown in desire as he looked up at you through hooded eyes. You began to unbutton his wine stained shirt, running your hands over his porcelain skin when it was fully opened. You traced your fingers over the tattoos that littered his abs and ribs. You took pleasure in the fact that Steve would shiver with every pass of your fingertip.

“I’m sorry about the stain, Mr. Rogers.” You said innocently, leaning down, your breasts pushed together as they rested on his now bare chest.

“You should be, princess.” His voice was deep. You let out a small yelp as one of his hands gave a harsh slap to your ass. “This is an expensive shirt. And don’t even get me started on the trousers.”

You hummed in understanding as you gave tiny kisses across his jaw and neck, taking time to suck on the skin around his collarbone. Your hands wandered down his body till they came in contact with the trousers in question. Slowly you sat up, running your hands over the stain on his pants but your eyes never leaving his.

“I hope you can get the stain out.” You licked your lips as you moved your body down his own until your face was directly by his crotch and the stain. You sucked on the stain near his cock and smiled when his member jumped in his briefs. You slowly pulled down his pants until he was just in his underwear, his cock trying so hard to break free from it’s confines.

Steve groaned as you finally freed his aching member. You gave the tip a little kitten lick as you looked up at him. He was now resting his weight on his arms as he leaned back and watched you in absolute wonder. You brushed your thumb across the tip, dragging the precum that had gathered there down the rest of his shaft. Your mouth watered at the thought of having him in your mouth. But you wanted to torture him a bit more.

You ran your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock, while your hand squeezed lightly at the base. You wrapped your lips around the tip, your tongue playing with the slit there before pulling back with a pop.

“Mhmm, tasty.” You continued treating him like your own personal lollipop, but never fully enveloping his dick in your mouth.

“Sweetheart, either fucking suck it like I know you can or I’ll shove it down your fucking throat.” Steve wrapped your hair into a makeshift ponytail and forced your head up. “Got it?”

You didn’t respond, instead you finally took him into your mouth. You pushed past your gag reflex and took him all the way in until your nose brushed against the hairs on his naval.

“Oh fuck.” Steve’s voice praised as he started moving his hips, fucking his cock down the back of your throat.

Your eyes watered as you let him use your throat as his own little fuck toy. You reached between your legs trying to relieve the tension that was building there. You moaned around his cock as your fingers toyed with your clit.

“Shit, I wanna come in that fucking pussy.” He moaned as he pulled you off the floor and threw you back on the bed. You laid back, your fingers moving back to your clit as you watched him fully take off his clothes. He watched you with interest as you moved your lace panties to the side and slid a finger up your slit, gathering your juices before gently rubbing your clit again. He ran his hands up your legs before grabbing your hand and stopping your actions.

“This,” He patted harshly against your pussy and you moaned at the sensation. “Is mine. Don’t touch, unless I tell you to.”

“Yes, sir.” You moaned as his fingers replaced yours. Your back arched as he dipped one finger into your hole.

“Fuck, baby. When was the last time somebody fucked this little cunt? You’re so fucking tight, baby.” He moaned, watching as your pussy greedily closed around his finger.

“You’re gonna feel so good around my cock, sweetheart.” Steve’s eyes met yours and for a moment he looked like a man that you might actually want to be with. His cold exterior was gone and replaced with a man who was just as lustfully lost as you were.

“I want your cock now. Please.” you cried out as he slipped another finger in. Your body bucking as he curled his fingers up hitting that spot that so few had been able to get to with you.

“Yeah? My little slut wants daddy’s cock to fill her up?” He leaned over you, capturing your lips again. You moaned into his mouth at his words. You never admitted it to anyone but you always had a little bit of a daddy kink. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

“Please, daddy.” You whimpered against his lips as your hips bucked against his. “Please fuck me.”

Steve chuckled darkly, kissing you quickly again, before ripping your panties clean off your body. You didn’t even care that he just ruined the most expensive pair of underwear you owned. You just needed his cock in you now.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him lineup his cock with your dripping hole, slowly pushing the head into your tight channel. You both let out moans as he bottomed out. He fell forward, his forehead resting against yours. You whined as you tried to move your hips against his but he just forced them down with his hands.

“Steve!” You all but screamed. “Please.”

“Patience, baby.” He said through gritted teeth. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight. Squeezing daddy’s cock so good. I just need a minute.”

You let out a humph as you continued to buck your hips against his.

“What the fuck did I just say?” He growled, he leaned up and wrapped his hand around your throat. “Don’t be a fucking brat.”

You opened your mouth to apologize but it was overtaken as you let out a yelp as he pulled himself out before slamming his cock back into you. You threw your head back as he fucked into you relentlessly, his hand tightening around your throat. You were in a state of euphoria as his cock dragged in and out of your walls.

“Oh my god.” You mewl as he continues to completely destroy your pussy. Before you could process what’s happening, Steve flips you over so your face is pushed into the fluffy comforter. He pulls your hips back so your ass is in the air and he easily slides back into you.

“Tight little cunt fucking loves my cock.” You cry out as his hand delivers a slap against your ass before moving to your hips and pushing you back onto his dick. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock hits your g-spot.

“Daddy!” You call out. Steve leans over and pulls you up by your neck, causing your back to be flush with his front as he fucks up into you. His other hand moves down to play with your clit.

“Are you gonna come baby girl? I feel your pussy milking my cock. You wanna come?” He growls in your ear. “Huh? You wanna come all over my cock?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes!”

“I’m so close, princess.” He drops his head into the crook of your neck. “Come on, baby. Squeeze my cock, make daddy come with you.”

You feel that familiar feeling in your tummy as your orgasm approaches.

“Shit.” You breathe out as your orgasm gets closer and closer. Steve’s fingers move faster against your clit. You cry out as your orgasm finally crashes over you. Steve lets out a groan as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, his cum shooting inside your walls.

“You feel so good.” He breathes as his orgasm dies down. You hum in agreement but you’re too tired to say anything else. You close your eyes as you feel Steve lower your both to the bed. You whimper as he pulls out of you.

“I’ll be right back.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you just give him a nod. You’re completely incoherent. Totally fucked out. He’s gone for a couple minutes and you hear the water in the bathroom running before he comes back. With your eyes closed you don’t see how he pauses at the side of bed, appreciating the curves of your body as you curled yourself under one of his many blankets.

You whine as you feel him move the blanket before running a washcloth between your legs. “Steve?”

“Yes, princess?” You hate that your stomach flutters at the nickname.

“Don’t leave.” You mutter, closing your eyes once more.

Steve doesn’t respond for a second and at first you think that he’s going to leave but then you feel the bed dip and a strong arm pulling you close. You smile to yourself as your hand lands on top of his.

“Get some rest.” He whispers in your ear.

“Mmkay.” you hum and you don’t know if it’s your imagination or not but you swore you felt Steve smile against your skin.

You wake with a jolt. You glance at the clock and curse silently. You’ve been asleep for two hours. You turn over and see Steve still there, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. You find yourself staring at his long eyelashes and how they rest gently along the tops of his cheek. He doesn’t look like a scary mob boss here. He looks human. He looks peaceful.

“I can feel you staring.” Steve opens one eye and gives you a small smile. “Like what you see?”

You gasp as he grabs you and has you straddle his hips. You rest your hands easily on his chest and stare down at him, smirking as you feel his cock start to stir.

“Hmmm, I love these.” His hands reach up and twist at your nipples causing you to bite back a moan.

“Steve…”

“And your pussy is so responsive to me, princess. It’s like it was made for me.” He rubs his thumb across your clit. “I can feel how wet you are again.”

“Well you’re playing with my clit. Of course I’m gonna get wet.” You retort.

Steve raises an eyebrow at you. “You really think being sassy is in your best interest?”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond. Steve grumbles before lifting you up a bit and impaling you on his now hard cock.

“Fuck!” You slap his chest and Steve chuckles. Nonetheless you start rocking your hips against his.

“Nuh uh,” Steve tuts. He holds your hips still. “You’re just gonna sit here like this. Keep me nice and warm.”

“Steveeee.” You whine, lowering your head to his chest.

“Don’t be such a brat then.” He growls. You raise your head to look at him and even though his words are tough, his eyes are soft. And for a moment your taken back. “So sit still for daddy.”

You groan but stay still. Steve runs his fingers up and down your back, tracing patterns along your skin and you hum in appreciation. Your peaceful moment is upended though when his phone rings on the nightstand next to him.

“Rogers.” He answers quickly. You stay quiet as you hear the voice on the other end of the line talk about the product movement. You smirk to yourself as Steve begins to discuss logistics, completely ignoring your presence.

“I’m a little busy, Stark.” Tony Stark? As in Mayor of the city Tony Stark? He was in on this too. “I’ll call you back.” Steve threw his phone back on the nightstand and brought your face up to his to pull you into a searing kiss.

“Please, daddy?” You say against his lips. You start rocking your hips again and this time, Steve doesn’t stop you.

You're a moaning mess as Steve’s hips snap up yours, your orgasm fast approaching.

“Gonna cum already?”

“Yes, yes! Oh god, I’m so close!” You breathe as he quickens his pace.

“Cum, baby girl. Make a mess on daddy.” He groans, his head tipping back.

“Steve!” You choke out as your body spasms with pleasure. Steve comes quickly after you and you shutter as you feel his seed leaking out of your worn out hole.

You lay your head down on his chest again and try to gather your thoughts. You need to get out of here.

“I should go.” You whisper, sitting up. Steve’s cock is still inside you and you almost don’t want to leave because you feel so full.

“I wanna see you again.” He runs his fingers across your cheek. The sense of power you feel seeing the country’s biggest mob boss underneath you, drunk on your sex is overwhelming. You love the feeling.

“You will. Soon.” You lean down and give him a deep kiss. “I promise.” You peck his lips once more before gathering your clothes from the floor.

Slipping on your shoes you give him one last wink before hurrying out the door and down the hall. You manage to find a way to the kitchen without having to walk through the rest of the party and you sneak out behind a delivery man who brought in a ridiculously large ice sculpture.

Once you're outside you take your heels off and run towards the van down the street. You hurriedly knock on the back, checking your surroundings to make sure no one sees you. Peter opens the door and he looks like he’s seen a ghost when he sees you.

“Y/N!” He pulls you into the van. “Oh my god, I was getting worried. When we heard him say that he wanted to check the pin I had to turn off the devices so they wouldn’t get traced. And then you didn’t come out. But Fury said that you would be fine but man, I was so nervous and-”

“Parker, shut up and hand me a piece of paper.” You clapped your hands together, pulling him out of his ramble. Peter nodded and handed you a pen and paper watching intently as you started writing down everything you overheard on the phone call.

“What is this?”

“Rogers is working with Stark and they're moving some sort of product tomorrow.” You said proudly.

“How did you...this is huge!”

“My Ma always said that there are two ways to get to a man. One is through his stomach and the other is in his pants.” You shrugged.

“And I’m guessing you didn’t make him a grilled cheese sandwich.” Peter makes a face.

“Not exactly.” You laugh. “Now let’s go. We gotta get this to Fury.”

Part 2

#chris evans imagine #steve rogers imagine #chris evans smut #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #stever rogers x reader smut

853 notes · View notes

luvdsc · 4 years ago

Text

haha, what if we kissed? (lol jk... unless?)

fact! you’re secretly in love with your best friend, and so is he!

pairing :: zhong chenle x reader genre :: fluff / best friend, buzzfeed worth it au word count :: 5,072 words warnings :: none playlist :: sunny afternoon (red velvet) ⋆ about love (marina) ⋆ all about you (nct u) ⋆ love (x lovers) ⋆ bella notte (f. murray abraham & arturo castro) author’s note :: i literally just finished writing the rest of this in my meetings today and am posting during my lunchbreak, but happy (1 day late) birthday, chenle sweetheart!! ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

“Hello, and welcome back to another episode of Dream: Worth It!”

Chenle shouts loudly from the driver’s seat, waving excitedly at the camera attached to the dashboard as he waits for the traffic light to turn green. You visibly flinch in your spot on the passenger's side, startled by the sudden greeting, and even Jisung jumps in the backseat, almost dropping the camcorder he was fiddling with.

Your best friend continues to give the camera a dazzling smile, paying no attention to your and Jisung’s brief glares. “Today on Worth It, thanks to a fan’s suggestion, we’ll be trying out three different spaghetti dishes at three drastically different price points to find out which one is most worth it at its price!”

“Yes,” you chime in, nodding excitedly at the camera and giving a little wave. “So if you want to see another riveting episode of Chenle and Jisung going on three dates at three drastically different price points while I third wheel again, please stay tuned!”

“Hey!”

Both the boys wildly protest, but you blatantly ignore them, checking your phone quickly before beaming at the camera again. “So here’s our first spaghetti fact! The word ‘spaghetti’ is actually the plural version of spaghetto. Spaghetto comes from the Italian word spago, which means twine or thin string.”

“Wait, that actually makes sense. Spaghetti looks like thin strings,” Chenle says, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Yeah, basically every language makes sense, except for English,” you remark, setting your phone down in your lap before turning to your best friend. “So are you excited for this episode’s dish?”

“Yes! Shout out to Moony for your suggestion,” Chenle calls out, driving forward before making a right. “If anyone else has any suggestions for future videos, please feel free to comment below.”

You start to explain the first restaurant to your viewers. “Our first stop is called Legalize Marinara! It’s a small hole in the wall place in downtown LA, and fresh pasta is made everyday. We’ll be talking to the owner and chef Johnny Suh about the daily process.”

“And cut!” Jisung calls out, and you stop there, pressing the off button to end the recording. Later on, the three of you will have to work on snipping up the recordings to create a smooth transition from there to a shot of Johnny and his restaurant before jumping into your quick interview with him.

You quickly scroll through the questions you had written ahead of time to ask Johnny on your phone, mouthing the words and memorizing them. You were always the one who asked about the history of the restaurant because Chenle wasn’t as good with the more sentimental questions and preferred the light hearted ones about the food specifically, which you didn’t mind. As long as you get to try good food at the end of it, you’re one very happy, very stuffed camper. You are very much looking forward to visiting Legalize Marinara.

“—and that’s how the pasta is freshly made everyday in the morning.” Johnny finishes up, giving the camera a very charismatic smile and a wink. “We also have a special brew of coffee created by my dad, but that’s a story for another episode. I’ll bring out the spaghetti once it’s ready.”

You and Chenle thank him before going over to sit at one of the small metal tables near the entrance. The place had a sort of modern, yet retro feel to it with an eclectic mix of vintage, kitschy furniture adding pops of color here and there to the otherwise simple space with a neutral palette. The name of the restaurant flashes as a neon sign, serving as the main wall decor along with records scattered here and there on the wall as well.

Jisung stands across from the two of you, propping the large camera on his shoulder in preparation. You and Chenle both take a sip of the special coffee drinks Johnny prepared for you each on the house, pleasantly surprised by the crisp, refreshing taste your taste buds are immediately hit with. Johnny appears minutes later, a pretty plate of simple spaghetti and meatballs along with some Parmesan and garnish on top in hand.

“Here’s our most popular dish: spaghetti with meatballs!” he announces, placing the plate in front of you both carefully. “It’s a simple tomato sauce, but it’s made with organic, local ingredients that we get from the farmer’s market every morning. We get the fresh meat from the butcher down the block everyday to make the meatballs and buy the cheese from local sellers as well. We also add the secret spice mixture created by my mom to the meatballs, which gives it a distinct flavor from other restaurants. Please dig in, guys!”

You immediately swirl your fork into the plate of spaghetti. It looks and smells absolutely fantastic, and your mouth is already watering. You cannot believe that this only costs thirteen dollars. This is an absolute steal. You are just about to take a bite when—

“Wait! We didn’t do a ‘cheers’ yet!” Chenle exclaims, sticking out his fork towards you. You clink your fork against his own metal utensil, and he’s finally satisfied, retracting his arm. Finally, you take the much anticipated bite. The flavors absolutely explode in your mouth, and you’re already reaching out to take a second forkful of the delicious masterpiece.

“This is amazing,” you declare, and Chenle nods enthusiastically, spearing a meatball with his fork. Jisung briefly pans the camera over to Johnny, who shows a double thumbs up before doing finger guns and giving an exaggerated wink.

“Here, try this.” Chenle cuts a piece of the meatball and offers it to you. You reach out for it, but he pulls back, smiling widely and eyes sparkling. “Nuh uh, that’s too easy. Say ah, Y/N.”

“I—” Your cheeks grow warmer than ever, and his grin grows broader, wriggling the fork in front of you. Face burning, you move forward and take a bite. You can hear Jisung fake gagging behind the camera and very much would like to flip him the bird, but you are a professional. You’ll get him back for that later. After all, revenge is a dish best served piping hot and spicy, and you have some Carolina reapers leftover from another video that may accidentally find its way into Jisung’s ramen next time.

You and Chenle spend some more time describing the dish in between bites as Johnny pipes in here and there with some well placed dad jokes that has Jisung shaking his head behind the camera. By the end of it, you both are very happy, and you switch places with Jisung who has a chance to try out the pasta himself at last. He silently eats it before tossing a thumbs up at the camera, and you stop the recording there. After thanking Johnny once more before the three of you leave, you all pile into your car and get ready to go to the next stop.

Up next: Penne for your Thoughts.

“Can we stop here?” Jisung pipes up, peering out the window with interest. His eyes scan the surroundings, peering at the empty space and the wide stairs in front of the spiraling columns of a grand building.

You furrow your eyebrows, glancing at your friend in the backseat. “We’re still a couple blocks away from the restaurant though.”

“This looks like a good spot to film a dance,” he muses to himself before sitting up straighter. “Can we take a quick break? We’re still early, and I wanted to film a quick TikTok before the sun sets.”

You look over at Chenle, who shrugs and pulls over. He backs up into an available parking space, parallel parking smoothly, one hand gripping the back of your seat and the other on the steering wheel. “Alright, do your thing, Jisungie.”

Jisung excitedly hops out from the back. You and Chenle follow suit, locking the car behind you. Your friend is busy setting up his collapsible tripod before placing his phone on it and calling over to you, “Hey, can you stand in front, Y/N? I wanna angle this correctly and check the lighting.”

You move in front of his phone, standing several steps in front of the stairs. Jisung fiddles around with his phone for a few moments, switching up some of the settings and zoom functions before straightening up, eyes bright. “Okay, stay there to mark the spot! I’m gonna press the start button to record. Chenle, can I borrow your phone? I need to play the song for the dance.”

Chenle hands him his phone, and the familiar intro to Doja Cat’s “Say So” begins to blast on top volume. Jisung hands it back to its owner and hurriedly moves to stand in front of his own recording phone as you step aside. “I kinda also need you two in my TikTok.”

“Wait, what? I don’t know the dance,” you protest, starting to back out, but Jisung grabs your hand, pulling you into view, as Chenle bounces over with a shrug of his shoulders, never one to shy away from the camera.

“You don’t need to dance. I just need you both to uh, kiss my cheek on, um, both sides when I tap on them both. It should be the fourth time she says ‘say so’ in the song,” he stammers slightly, face turning slightly pink. He avoids making eye contact as you give him a suspicious look, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What? Why?”

“It’s part of the dance! Now get out of the shot please because the chorus is finally coming up again!” He unceremoniously shoves you out of the frame, and Chenle quickly catches you before you faceplant into the ground. You have a few choice words to yell at your friend and are about to furiously march over to him, but Chenle tightens his grip on you. “Let’s just let him finish, and we can go on. You know how he is about dancing.”

“I’m paying Renjun to put another cockroach picture as his lockscreen again,” you huff, frowning at the dancing boy. “Why didn’t you say anything about the whole kissing request anyway?”

“Eh, I’ve done it before. It’s no big deal.” Chenle shrugs, and you start to stutter, brain malfunctioning, “Wait, you did wha—”

“Oh, it’s almost our cue!” Chenle pushes you towards Jisung as he runs behind the camera to the other side, and you find yourself stumbling for a second time before catching yourself. Grumbling to yourself, you catch Chenle’s apologetic expression, and you sigh, shaking your head as you wait on the sidelines for Jisung to do the move.

And there it is.

Jisung points at his cheeks, tapping them on both sides, and you and Chenle jump into the frame. You lean forward, pressing your lips softly against— wait.

Eyes widening, you jump back in shock, mouth popping open, and the same reaction comes from your best friend when you two realize that you just kissed each other. On the lips.

Crouched on the ground, Jisung looks rather smug after quickly dropping down mid-dance and orchestrating the whole incident. He quickly stands up, striding towards the camera and ending the recording, before efficiently packing up the equipment and walking back to the car without another word.

“Did we just—” you splutter, unable to continue your sentence, as your face grows increasingly warm. Chenle refuses to make eye contact with you, the darkening blush spreading across his face like wildfire. The two of you both direct your disbelief at the same target, rushing over to the car which he boredly stands next to, waiting for Chenle to unlock it.

“Jisung!” You both shout his name, and he just stares at you both, a small grin across his face that he struggles to hide. “What?”

“‘What?’ That’s it? What was that?! Why did you do that?” you exclaim, waving your arms around. Chenle is rendered speechless, unable to say anything after the quick outburst of his other best friend’s name.

“I was tired of listening to Che—mmph!” Jisung is abruptly cut off as Chenle throws his hand over his friend’s mouth, effectively interrupting whatever he was about to say. The two of them silently look at each other, maintaining some sort of telepathic stare that’s probably discussed in the universal book of the bro code. You’ve seen Jaemin and Jeno or Renjun and Donghyuck share the same look before and never really understood it. To be honest, it kind of reminds you of that one moment where the main characters of a chick flick gaze into each others’ eyes and then kiss.

The sound of a text notification cuts off your train of thought and breaks the intense stare down going between the two boys, and you check your phone, eyes widening. “Oh my god, we’re going to be late if we don’t go now! Taeyong just texted me to confirm if we’re coming.”

The three of you hurry into the car, buckling up in your seats. Your hand lightly grazes Chenle’s amidst the rush, and you freeze. You look up, heat spreading across your face, as Chenle meets your gaze, turning redder than spaghetti sauce.

“Alright, you can continue this moment at the restaurant,” Jisung says loudly, jolting the two of you out of your stupor. You quickly retract your hand, mumbling a quick apology, and look away, cheeks still growing warmer than ever. Chenle awkwardly clears his throat and starts the car up, driving to your second stop on the map.

Penne for your Thoughts is simply lovely. It reminds you of a place you would see on the shiny cover of Architecture Digest: a hot spot where all those social influencers would take aesthetic snapshots and post to their Instagrams. The restaurant is quaint and spacious: a large area filled with lots of greenery, hanging plants in simple white ceramic pots, white painted brick walls, and wooden tables with soft cushions on each seat. Once you wrap up the interview with Taeyong, you are seated next to an open window with a great view of a pretty koi pond in the back.

“We serve Korean fusion style food here, and our spaghetti has a freshly made tomato sauce that includes chopped kimchi infused in it. We found that using garlic marinated pork belly makes a more flavorful meatball, which we char slightly, paying homage to the wonderful KBBQ samgyeopsal. We also found that a raw egg yolk on top adds a richness to the pasta, which is similar to a bowl of bibimbap. And there’s some grated Parmesan and mozzarella on top.” Taeyong sets the plate of gorgeous spaghetti in front of you and Chenle with a shy smile. “I hope you both enjoy it.”

You don’t know how else to describe the dish, except that it is beautiful (Just like the restaurant owner, like have you seen his face? Lee Taeyong is the true modern day Adonis, but you digress). You swear you saw Chenle wipe a tear from his face out of the corner of your eye. Practically salivating, you impatiently wait for Jisung to take a few close up videos and pictures of the dish before you immediately dig in.

Fork awkwardly hovering in the air, you pause, turning to Chenle. “Uh, cheers?”

His own loaded fork is halfway to his mouth when he halts. “Oh! Right. Yes. Um, cheers, Y/N.”

The two of you stiffly tap your forks against each other before facing forward again and finally taking the much desired bite. The flavors are bursting like fireworks, and if someone told you that you had died and gone to heaven, you would believe them because there’s no other word to explain the taste other than heavenly. Dante had many circles leading to the center of hell. If you are to apply the same concept to heaven, Legalize Marinara would be the first circle you enter once you go past the pearly gates, and Penne for your Thoughts would most definitely be the second.

The clinking of Chenle’s fork against the plate breaks you from your thoughts, and your good mood falters when you remember the incident again. You plaster a quick smile as you begin to describe the dish to the camera. Chenle chimes in with a wide smile of his own that looks a little too forced, but the only one who seems to notice is you.

Once the recording is wrapped up, Chenle drops you off at your apartment building for you to change into a more dressier attire for the last stop. He and Jisung will change at their place before coming back to pick you up for dinner.

Up next: Terrazza San Valentino.

The place is positively breathtaking. It is an upscale restaurant with open seating on a terrace, leading to a beautiful view of the ocean. Wisteria vines and bright flowers weave their way through the twisting low iron fences encompassing the space as they climb the sides of the building. You have the perfect seat to witness the picturesque sunset over the rippling waters. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon had been brought out and now rests on the covered table, uncorked and already poured out into two glasses. It very much reminds you of the beautiful restaurants you visited along the Amalfi Coast, specifically Il Capitano in Positano. You only hope that the food here will be just as amazing as the pasta you ordered there.

You just wish your company was a little better. The atmosphere felt more awkward than the time your mom had set you up on a blind date with her coworker’s son. You had to text Chenle for help that time, and he came to your rescue, helping you escape after pretending to be your long lost son. Obviously, your date wasn’t dumb enough to believe that, but he did believe that you were completely off your rockers and immediately took off after that.

Sneaking a glance at your best friend, you sigh when you realize that he refuses to look your way. You carefully tuck the skirt of your wine red dress under your crossed legs. The sweetheart neckline emphasizes the simple gold necklace you have on, and the dress tapers off at your waist, accentuating your figure perfectly. You paired the outfit with a matching lipstick, a simple black clutch, and some elegant black heels with ribbons that loop around your ankles into a pretty bow.

In other words, you look stunning, and Chenle’s palms are growing sweaty. He undos the first few buttons of his white dress shirt, desperately wanting to take off his tailored suit jacket, but his attire would look much too casual without it. He avoids eye contact with you and remains silent, growing even more flustered by the second, and looks at Jisung helplessly.

Of course, his other best friend proves to be useless again (Disappointing, but not surprising). Jisung simply wriggles his eyebrows at him, eyes darting from you to Chenle, before zooming into his face at a very unflattering angle. Chenle throws him a dirty look, and Jisung merely sticks out his tongue in response. However, they immediately smoothen their expressions into much more pleasant ones when Jaehyun comes out with the plate of food on a small cart.

“This is our play on spaghetti.” He gives you a dimpled smile, and you briefly wonder if the customers rave about this restaurant because of the food or the chef. Perhaps it is a combination of both.

He continued to explain the dish, setting it down in front of you and Chenle. “We use strangozzi that is made fresh every morning. We infuse sun dried tomatoes that we dried ourselves into the olive oil for a minimum of thirty days. The pasta is cooked for sixty seconds, while we slightly sauté grated truffle in the oil in a pan. Once the pasta is ready, we transfer it to the truffle pan and cook it for another minute, making sure to coat the pasta in the sauce. And then we grate some Parmesan and truffles right on top at the table.”

Jaehyun pulls out the expensive mushroom, generously grating thin slices on top of the glistening strands of pasta. The smell is incredible, and your eyes are already hyper fixated on the dish in front of you. He puts down the mushroom and grater, picking up the second grater and the cheese from the cart before shredding the cheese perfectly.

When he finishes, Jaehyun places them back on the cart and smiles at you both charmingly once more. “I hope you enjoy your meal. If you need anything else, please feel free to ask.”

You thank him before he leaves, and Jisung takes all the necessary shots before giving the okay to start eating. You and Chenle offer up some comments about the elegance of the dish, describing its appearance and finally twirling some on the end of your fork. You murmur a quiet “cheers” as the two of you clink your glasses of wine together and take a sip before having the first bite.

The amount of money you have to pay to have a truffle dish is absolutely worth it. The taste is simply indescribable, and you truly have no words. You are blown away by the amount of flavor that can be created with just a few ingredients, and your taste buds are singing. Wide eyed, you turn to look at Chenle, who has the same astonished expression on his face, already staring back at you in complete surprise.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and your best friend agrees with you. “Holy shit indeed.”

You immediately go for another bite, and Chenle quickly follows suit. “This is— this is incredible. I don’t know how to describe it, except, except, wow. I can’t stop eating it, and the sun dried tomatoes, olive oil, fresh pasta al dente, and truffles just work so well together. It’s like a symphony in my mouth.”

“I agree,” Chenle nods enthusiastically, swiping another forkful of the yummy goodness. “This has to be one of the best dishes of the entire season.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” You spear a slice of the truffle with the pasta, and the ensuing bite is simply perfect and delectable. “I would come back here every single week if my bank account would let me.”

The stifled atmosphere between the two of you suddenly becomes relaxed at that point, the thick tension dissipating with food never failing to act as the perfect ice breaker and buffer simultaneously. For now, you can pretend the kiss didn’t happen and almost forget it (key word: almost).

“There’s a very popular fan suggestion,” Jisung pipes up, looking at the comment section of the previous video where you and Chenle announced your current recording’s star dish. “It got over twenty thousand likes and five hundred responses.”

“What is it?” You pause in eating, fork poised in the air, as you look over to your friend behind the camera. Chenle pays no attention, continuing to take another bite.

“Recreate the Lady and the Tramp moment.”

Your jaw drops, and your eyes grow round. Practically scandalized, your voice goes an octave higher. “You mean the kissing scene?!”

At the mention of kissing, Chenle chokes on a noodle, spluttering and nearly hacking up a lung, and you quickly reach over and firmly pat him on the back repeatedly until he stops coughing with a weak “thanks.”

“What? This is a food show! Why do they want us to kiss?” your best friend wheezes, and you pass him a glass of water. He grabs it from your outstretched hand gratefully and takes a large gulp.

“I don’t know, fan service? Anyway, it’s good for the views!” Jisung gives you a thumbs up, and you frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why don’t you do it with Chenle then?”

“It specifically says you and Chenle,” he informs smugly with a smirk, and you glower at him, much to his amusement.

“Well, if it’s for the fans…” Chenle trails off, a faint blush beginning to make its appearance on his face. He hesitantly pulls out one strand of the pasta, picking up one end on his fork.

You can’t believe this. Yet, you slowly reach out for the other end of the strand with your fork, twirling it onto the metal prongs securely. You move to take your end of the noodle, while Chenle does the same, both of you actively avoiding eye contact.

“Oh c’mon, at least make it a little more romantic than that. Jeno and Jaemin have more chemistry than you two right now,” Jisung complains, and you would very much like to chuck the half full bottle of wine at his big, annoying head (Chenle also has similar thoughts).

Taking a deep breath, you finally place the noodle’s end in your mouth. Cheeks burning, you can feel your heart rate already skyrocketing at the mere thought of kissing your best friend again. You know you’ll freeze up if you look at him, so you do your best to focus your gaze on the center of the noodle strand. You’ll have some time before the two of you meet in the middle, right?

Wrong.

It comes much too soon, and your palms are growing sweaty as your heart races in your chest at a breakneck speed. Your lips are mere millimeters away from his, and you pause. You can’t hear anything, but the pounding of your heart and the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you finally find the courage to peek up at your best friend. You find him already gazing at you, a soft expression on his face. His eyes dart down to your lips before meeting your eyes once more, and you suddenly realize that he’s waiting for you, that he won’t do anything unless you want it too, that it’s okay if you don’t.

But you do.

So you muster up all the courage you possibly can and close the distance, carefully pressing your lips against his for a tender kiss before biting off the noodle. When you pull back, you finally notice the awestruck expression written all over Chenle’s face. He lets out a small laugh of disbelief before he positively beams, bouncing in his seat, and you sport a matching smile, albeit a little bashful.

“Uh, anyway, who left that comment? We should probably give them a mention,” you say, clearing your throat and hoping the heat subsides in your cheeks soon. Chenle continues to grin like the Cheshire Cat and secretly grabs your hand underneath the tablecloth, intertwining your fingers with his. You can feel your face exponentially growing warm once again, but you still send a pleased smile to your best friend.

“Uh…” Jisung awkwardly laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “‘Insert goofy’s chuckle.’”

At Jisung’s answer, you freeze up entirely in your position before immediately turning and locking eyes with Chenle in complete horror, the both of you instantly coming to the same, dreadful realization.

“HYUCK?!”

One new notification: Dream: Worth It uploaded a new video!

insert goofy’s chuckle commented:

oh my god you guys actually did it. your relationship started all thanks to ME 🙆🏻 you’re welcome btw 😘 I take payment in the form of your first born’s name

notanimpasta replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle ok calm down rumpelstiltskin

jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta what a perfect nickname for him. He’s an ugly little greedy man

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ jisung pwark LMAOOOO (and congrats, chenle and y/n!)

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ jisung pwark what tf no one asked???

notanimpasta replied: @ jisung pwark wait hold on you were supposed to edit that end part out????

jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta i left it for the views ☺️

big head king replied: @ jisung pwark people watch for the food tho!!! 🙂

nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ replied: @ big head king I watched it for the kiss. Love is so beautiful 🥰💓💞🥺🥺💕💛💟✨💖

jenojam replied: @ big head king I had watched it for the food! but congratulations, y/n and chenle :)

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ big head king i watched it because ron jeon said you mentioned me

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle IT’S RENJUN!!!!!! 🤬🤬

mork lee rawr xD replied: hahaha I watch for the food~

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ mork lee rawr xD Thank you Mark, very cool!

winwin in past tense is wonwon!!! commented:

whoop whoop congrats lele 🥳🥳

rapperpunzel commented:

the pasta looks good 🍝

johnny’s communication center commented:

Thanks for stopping by! Come back for the couple’s special discount anytime 😉

baa baa yang sheep commented:

oh my god finally!!!

ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ baa baa yang sheep you owe me $50 I was right, it happened before the season finale

baa baa yang sheep replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck suddenly i’m jared, 19

xiao dejasmine commented:

hahahaha cute ! 😁😁

ty track commented:

Thank you y/n and chenle for visiting ~~ congrats on your relationship !!! -TY

junguwu (◕‿◕✿) commented:

YAAAAAS CHENLE SWEETIE 😘😘😘

jisung pwark commented:

check out my latest tiktok video @ jisungpwark to see their actual first kiss!!! and don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe ☺️

notanimpasta replied: @ jisung pwark STOP USING US AS CLICKBAIT

jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta no ❤️

jisung pwark replied: @ notanimpasta also red is sus

big head king replied: @ jisung pwark so when are you gonna do the best friend kissing challenge huh 👀

jisung pwark replied: @ big head king SHUT UP CHENLE

honeyfairy replied: @ jisung pwark 😳😳

gu ren gui god commented:

wow~ very cute, chenle! my angel 😊

FIGHTING HAEYADWAE commented:

YOOOOO CONGRATS, MAN 🤩🤪🤪

prince jae commented:

thank you guys for coming by! please stop by next year on your anniversary free of charge (:

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ prince jae omg mark and I will be there for sure ❤️

showmethemonet replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle my new boyfriend and I will be there too ☺️

insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet I’m sorry, I was wrong, pls don’t leave me for bts jin even though i am so much more handsomer and talented than him 😌

apado gwenchana god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

2K notes · View notes

mintwithchoco · 4 years ago

Text

loonathesmut: Tease

LOOΠΔ Kim Lip x Male Reader

Word Count: 7100 words

Categories: smut, oral, facefucking, facial, subtsundere! kim lip

note; finally after weeks of writing, i'm back with another story! this is a continuation to my first smut, so i suggest you read it first to understand the story a bit better.

this story is also dedicated to one of my favorite writer, @nsfwtwicecatcher ! since he likes giving kimberly lippington a facial, this is gift for him :3 happy belated birthday! (hopefully i'm not too late oof)

special thanks to @arrivalatdawn for helping me out with the story.

again, happy new year and enjoy! ;)

aff link

"That's all for today. Remember to read chapter 7 and 8 for our next class!" The lecturer said before everyone stood up to leave the lecture room.

You pack your notes and laptop into your bag hastily, rushing for your next event for the day.

"Hello, baby brother? Can I ask you for a little bit of help? I'm gonna be busy this Wednesday and we haven't finished packing up stuff for our move to the new dorm. Since half of us will be staying at the dorm to finish packing, I figured that they would need some...extra hand. Hopefully you can help out!"

You walked through the crowd of students while keeping a safe distance from them. You looked at the watch on your wrist. 12:14 p.m. You gasped silently and started to run, eventually reaching your car at the parking lot after almost hitting on a bunch of people on your way. Getting inside your car and taking a couple of deep breaths, you calmed the adrenaline rush in your body. After a few minutes, you start the engine, turn on the radio and drive off to loonathedorm.

20 minutes later, you finally arrive at the building where your stepsister's dorm was. You parked your car at a nearby parking lot, grabbing your stuff and a few bags of snacks that you purchased from a nearby convenience store. You make your way into the building and take the elevator up to the level where the dorm was at. As the elevator reaches the designated level, the door opened, revealing two people that you are all too familiar with.

"Oh, hi oppa!" "Hello oppa!" Both Heejin and Hyunjin greeted you.

"Hey! Where are you guys going?" You asked them as you got out of the elevator.

"We're gonna get some more boxes! We have too much stuff…" Heejin said while pouting. Hyunjin just stares at the plastic bags that you were holding.

"Oh, alright then. I bought some snacks, so be quick before the others finish it. And don't worry Hyunjin, I bought bread as well." You said, making Hyunjin smile.

"Thanks oppa!" Hyunjin responded.

"We'll be right back!" Heejin said and grabbed Hyunjin's hand as they went inside the elevator. You wave at them goodbye and head towards the dorm.

You arrive at the door within seconds. A nervous feeling suddenly came over you as this is the second time you are visiting the dorm. The first time was around a month ago, when Jinsoul invited you to Yeojin's birthday party. You haven't gotten closer to Jinsoul's other bandmates besides Heejin, Yerim and Jiwoo. You got close to them during their debut concert when you visited Jinsoul backstage. You pressed the doorbell followed with a nervous sigh. A few seconds was all it needed for the door to be opened by Chuu.

"Oppa! Come on in, we just started packing!" Jiwoo said in a happy tone.

"Perfect, right on time!" You said and went inside the dorm. Jiwoo goes back to her room to continue her work while you take off your jacket and shoes in the doorway. You hang up your jacket and put your shoes on an empty spot at the shoe rack. As you walk to the living room with the bags of snacks in hand, you look around the surrounding of the dorm.

The dorm was pretty clean but full of boxes scattered around containing the girls' stuff. It was a pretty small dorm for 12 people to live in, so you were happy that they are finally moving out after 3 years. You put the bags of snacks on the living room's table. Yerim suddenly appears in front of you , carrying a box that looked far too heavy for her. You quickly went to her and grabbed the box as her hands were getting shaky.

"Phew! Thanks oppa! You can put it there," Yerim said as she points to a stack of boxes beside the couch.

"No problem. This is really heavy, are there rocks inside?" You joked.

"It's just some clothes!" Yerim chuckled at your joke.

"Well, surely you have a lot of them. There you go." You put down the box carefully on top of a bigger box.

"Thanks oppa!" Yerim beams a cute smile at you.

"You're welcome. Have you guys eaten yet?" You asked her.

"No, we were too busy packing…"

"Well, I bought some snacks so-" You sit down on the couch and take out the snacks inside the plastic bags that you brought.

"Let's take a break!"

"Yeay! Thanks oppa!" Yerim sits on the couch and immediately opens up a bag of Cheetos.

"I'll get the others real quick." You stand up and head towards Jiwoo's room while Yerim munches down on the Cheetos. As you arrive there, Jiwoo is taping up a box while Jungeun is cleaning the windows.

"Hey guys! Are you done with your work yet?" You asked.

"Uhh, just a bit more oppa. I just have to tape up that box and I'm done!" Jiwoo replied.

"Alright then. Jungeun?"

"Can’t you see that I'm still cleaning?" Jungeun replied in a cold tone.

Kim Jungeun, a.k.a Kim Lip. Presumably, the sexiest member in LOONA. While her face emits the vibe of a charismatic woman, her personality is completely different. She has a great sense of humor as most of the memes in the LOONA fanbase are about her. She's also a caring and liable person. Jinsol once told you that she is one of the members that usually cooks for the others and she always loves cleaning around the house.

But, for some reason, she always seemed angry at you, keeping her words to a minimum and striking you with harsh facts sometimes. You asked Jinsol why she was acting that way and she simply replied with, "I don't know, maybe she's interested in you." You simply disagreed with her as there was no way you would fall in love with Jungeun since you have Jinsol embedded deep in your heart.

"Jungeun! That's not how you talk to oppa!" Jiwoo scolded Jungeun.

"It's fine. I just wanna say that the snacks are waiting for you guys and it won't take long before Yerim finishes it all,” You said and left the room to join Yerim back at the couch in the living room.

"Oh my god, you annihilated a bag of Cheetos already?!" You hold up the empty bag of Cheetos on the table.

"Hehe, sorry oppa! Can't help it," Yerim said while drinking her Coke.

"Is there any bread left?" Hyunjin bashed through the front door followed by Heejin who was holding a bunch of folded boxes. Both you and Yerim jumped in shock because of the sudden interruption. Hyunjin quickly sits beside Yerim and searches for her precious bread. Heejin puts the folded boxes at the hallway leading to the living room and joins the rest on the couch.

"Mmm~! Ish bwead ish sho fwuffy!” Hyunjin said as her mouth was already stuffed with bread.

“Yah, don’t talk when your mouth is full! Especially when oppa’s around,” Heejin said as she grabbed a pack of candies from one of the plastic bags.

“It’s fine, it was cute anyways,” Hyunjin choked and spat out her drink as she heard your compliment. Heejin and Yerim just laughed at her as she was coughing pretty badly.

Eventually, Jiwoo and Jungeun joined in after a few minutes. The room was quickly filled with conversations, the girls talked about their successful comeback while you talked about how you almost burned your house down when learning how to make macarons.

Whenever you talk, you realize that Jungeun will always focus on you, even though she was keeping a straight face. She spoke the least out of the six of you and will constantly nod or shake her head to a question. At one point, you made eye contact with her and in a split second, she turned her face away from you, hiding her shyness.

‘What's up with her?’ you thought.

But the conversation that was happening was too interesting for you to think about it furthermore.

2:15 p.m. All of you start packing the girls’ room items. Your job was mainly to pick up the boxes or lift some furniture since you are the only male there. Sounded easy, right? That was your thought before Kim Jungeun caught your attention with her outfit. She was wearing a black tank top that didn't do well on covering up her black bra underneath and black tight shorts that were showing off her beautiful legs.

You wondered why she picked that outfit for the day as it was clearly uncomfortable for her. Her top was always slipping down everytime she moved, allowing you to see her cleavage. You tried to avoid looking at her but she keeps coming into your sight as if it was intentional. Your lower region was starting to get warm and it was definitely not the right time to get a hard-on. You kept thinking about gross things that can help your boner to calm down but the moment when Jungeun bent down to pick up some stuff right in front of you, it was game over. You immediately go to the toilet to cover up your raging boner before any of the girls notices it.

About two hours later, Heejin taped up the final box, officially ending all of the work. All of you sit down on the couch and let out a sigh of relief. You were grateful that no one notices your bulge throughout all of that, otherwise you would be dying because of embarrassment.

“Hey guys! Sooyoung unnie just texted me that they are at the arcade nearby, should we join them?” Jiwoo asked while looking at her phone.

“Heck yeah!” Heejin excitedly replies.

“Oppa, are you going too?” Yerim asked you.

“Nah, you guys go ahead, I’ll just wait for noona here.”

“Lip unnie?” Hyunjin asked Jungeun.

“I’m too lazy…” Jungeun said and slowly laid down on the couch.

“Okay then, let’s get ready!” Jiwoo said and went to her room, followed by Heejin, Hyunjin and Yerim.

“Don’t bother me unless it’s something important.” Jungeun said to you before going back into her own room. You just shrugged off what she said and played around with your phone. After seeing the girls leave, you turn on the TV and watched a drama to kill time. You thought that Jungeun had already fallen asleep since she is tired and you didn’t hear any sounds from her room.

An hour passes by and your stomach starts to grumble. The snacks earlier didn’t really fill up your stomach, so you decided to cook some ramen. Before going into the kitchen, you remember about Jungeun and decide to ask her if she wants some. You walk up to her room’s door and knock gently.

“Hey, I’m gonna cook some ramen, do you want some?” You asked through the door.

“Ugh..hah,” You hear Jungeun’s voice through the door. It sounds like she is struggling, you thought. You knock on the door again.

“Are you okay in there?” No answer.

“Do you need help?” Still no answer.

Worried about her, you swiftly open the door. Your eyes search for Jungeun who was fixing the window curtains while tip-toeing on a chair to help her reach it. She didn’t notice your presence at all and was struggling with the curtains as it was stuck on the curtain rod. Before you can ask her anything, your attention suddenly diverts to her back that is facing you. You slowly eye her from head to toe a few times before locking your eyes onto her ass. Heck, you know it was wrong, but who can resist closing their eyes to this perfect and handful butt? You were hypnotized, dirty thoughts were already generated in your brain as you stared at them longer.

Suddenly, Jungeun loses her balance as her right foot slips on the chair and makes her fall. Luckily, you were there and reacted quickly enough to catch her from falling. Jungeun was shocked to see you catch her. Not to mention, she perfectly landed onto your arms and you both were in an awkward position of a bridal carry. Time stops for you as your eyes land onto hers, seeing another side of Kim Jungeun who was always giving you cold glares. You feel her body getting warmer on your arms and her cheeks turn red.

“Are you okay?” You asked her.

“Y-Yeah..you can put me down now..” Jungeun spoke in a soft tone for the first time with you, making you also blush at how cute she sounds. You gently put her feet first on the floor and removed your arms from her legs and her back. The air around the both of you was getting awkward and after a few seconds of silence, Jungeun finally speaks.

“Why did you come into my room, pervert?” Jungeun was back to her cold self but her shyness still remains visible on her cheeks.

“Chill out, I was just asking you if you wanted some ramen or not. And, if I didn’t barge into your room, you could end up with a back pain.” You answered back, making Jungeun sigh.

“You got a point. I am feeling hungry right now so why not. I’ll cook though, I don’t trust you in the kitchen.” Jungeun said before heading to the kitchen followed by you.

“The bags of ramen are on the right cabinet. If you wanna add in some more stuff, look in the fridge.” Jungeun said while washing her hands. You simply nod and open the cabinet that Jungeun pointed out. You grabbed three bags of spicy chicken flavored ramen and placed them on the kitchen counter. As you are about to check out the fridge for some ingredients, you saw that Jungeun is struggling once again, this time with getting a pot on the top of the cabinet.

“You know that it’s easy to ask for help, right?” You said and went behind her to reach the pot. Jungeun’s eyes widened as both of your bodies are closer to each other once again. She looks at your face that is focusing on the pot. Seeing how much you like to help her out makes her feel something funny. As she thinks about it longer, she starts to blush madly and her heart pounds fast until she realizes that you had grabbed the pot and saw her blushing.

“Here.” You said while giving her the pot, ignoring the fact that she is blushing.

“Thanks..” Jungeun replied, feeling relieved that you didn’t ask further.

After the little sweet moment, both of you start on making the ramen. You mostly prepared the ingredients while Jungeun does the mixing and cooking. 25 minutes later, Jungeun places the pot of hot ramen that is ready to be served on the dining table, which you have already cleaned and prepared with bowls and chopsticks. The savory aroma of the ramen fills the air, making you drool even more. Both of you sat down at the dining table, facing each other and started to dig in. You scooped a spoonful of the ramen with the ladle and put it in your bowl. You lifted up some of the ramen noodles with your chopsticks, gently blowing onto it to cool it down before putting it in your mouth.

"Mmm! So Jinsol noona was telling the truth about your cooking," You complimented her as the ramen you tasted was very delicious.

"Of course she would tell the truth. But I feel like I've added too much spice.." Jungeun said before taking a sip on her drink to reduce the heat on her tongue.

"I can handle the spice though, you're not that big of a spicy fan eh?" You said, continuing to slurp on the noodles.

“Shut up.”

A few minutes passed by and the pot was already empty. You both are still eating the last bits of the noodles in your bowls. Jungeun is fanning her clothes, feeling hot because of the spiciness of the ramen. This allows you to have a great view of her cleavage under her tank top once more, which almost made you spat out the noodles in your mouth. Even though the air conditioner was turned on, sweat formed on her forehead and her neck and your eyes focused on the beads of her sweat that was dripping down her cleavage. You gulped. Jinsol would probably kill you right now as your cock started to grow hard again.

“I feel so hot…” Jungeun said as she kept fanning her clothes that were drenched.

“You really are hot, Kim Jungeun.” You say softly, not wanting to be called out as a pervert by Jungeun again. You both finished up the food eventually and you offered to wash the dishes since she helped to cook the food. It was also a way for you to cover your bulge that is sticking out. You cleaned up the dining table and brought the dishes to the kitchen sink to wash them while Jungeun went back to her room.

You dry off your hand with a cloth near the sink after washing all of the dishes. You walked back to the living room and saw Jungeun doing yoga in front of the TV. She was still wearing the tank top from earlier, but has changed her shorts into leggings which hugged her thighs and her cute butt perfectly. She is doing a position where her feet and her hands are on the ground while her hips and her torso are kept high, like a certain sex position. You were stunned at your place, completely seduced by her sensual aura that is making you hard for the third time. You watch every part of her body like a hawk, gradually increasing your arousal level as you already think about how to take her down. You quickly put that thought away once Jungeun realizes that you are looking at her.

“W-Why are you doing yoga at this time?” You ask her before she could say anything in hope that she won’t call you out.

“I wanna work off the ramen that we just ate.” Jungeun said before moving into another position. This time, she lays down her body flat onto the yoga mat and lifts only her torso up with her hands, allowing her butt to clench and showing you how perfect it looks. You bit your lips at the sight, thinking how easily you could rip her leggings off and fuck her ass right at that moment. But you surely don’t want to be killed by Jungeun for suddenly invading her privacy so you have to keep your cool.

You slowly walk towards the couch and sat there while Jungeun is focusing on the TV that is playing a yoga guide show. You pull out your phone from your pocket and play around with it to distract yourself from staring at her body. As she wasn't looking at you, you fixed up your pants to hide your boner. You scroll through your phone, opening up apps that you never really open while burning the image of you fucking Jungeun in your head. After a while with a few more position changes, the yoga guide show is almost at the end as there is one more position to do. Jungeun lays down on her back and raises up her legs while bending her knees. She places her knees around her shoulder area and her arms on her feet to exert some pressure on it.

The position is called Happy Baby as said on the TV, but to you, it just looks like she was ready to receive a cock in her pussy. Because she is on the floor, her crotch area is exposed to you and your imagination of stripping her naked in that position is starting to flow. Your dick was painfully hard at this point, and your patience is starting to run out. Eventually, you stand up, planning to let out your desires in the toilet until Jungeun stops you.

"Giving up already?" Jungeun said in a teasing manner.

"I'm sorry?" You pretended to be confused.

"Hm, still want to defend yourself eh? I know you're having a boner right now." Jungeun releases herself from the position earlier, stands up and gets closer to you. Your eyes widen as you are getting exposed by her.

"I've noticed that you've been eyeing my body, especially my ass." Jungeun gives you a little smirk while crossing her arms.

"I-I'm sorry, I-"

"Shh...There's no need for that. I'll forgive you, but with one condition..." Jungeun gently pushes you back to the couch and straddles your lap. She brought her lips to your right ear and blew hot breath onto it, making you squirm under her body.

"Please me, just like how you did to Jinsol unnie."

The gentleman switch inside your body was turned off once you hear those alluring words. You wrapped her legs around your hips and lifted her up to carry her to somewhere comfortable. You made your way to her bedroom and pinned her down to the bed, not caring to close the door since there is no one else that can witness this sinful act.

"You are going to regret saying that, Miss Kim Jungeun." You leaned your head closer to her and pressed your lips against hers. The taste of her cherry lips makes its way into your taste buds while she reciprocates by moaning into your mouth. You feel her body is getting warmer with each passing second and her kisses are getting a bit more rough. Her tongue asks for entrance in your mouth, so you part your lips and both of your tongues dance while exchanging saliva into each other's mouth. Your hands makes their way down to her thick thighs, the culprit that has made your dick feel pain throughout the three times you got hard for her. You moved your hand up and down, caressing it to show your affection. As you continue to explore each other’s mouth, both of your breaths are decreasing overtime so Jungeun pushes you away from her lips and pants heavily.

“Jinsol unnie was right, you are a great kisser.” Jungeun says and wraps her arms around your neck. You looked deep into her brown eyes and admired her facial features. You gotta admit, she is one of the most beautiful women that you have ever seen, alongside Jinsoul of course. Her gaze that was filled with lust enamored your heart, making it beat faster than normal.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” Jungeun asks you and you unhesitantly nodded to her question.

“Eat my pussy out until I cum, then I’ll let you fuck my face.” Jungeun moves her body back to the headboard of the bed, inviting you to strip her naked. Like a cat, you crawl towards her and tower over her body. You grab the bottom hem of her tank top and pull it upwards. Jungeun raises her arms to allow you to remove it from her slim body and throw it away somewhere in the room. Even though Jungeun is not as thick as Hyejoo or as curvy as Jinsol, her body is still a killer, packed with a sexy ribcage, a small waist and of course, beautiful legs.

Your lips instantly latched on her neck, giving her a few kisses here and there to increase the tension between you both. The sweet scent of her perfume was still there despite her being sweaty because of the spiciness of the ramen and the yoga that she did earlier. Jungeun moaned softly at your kisses but tries to silence herself to keep her cold act. Feeling a bit bolder now, your hands slowly reach behind her and unhook her black bra. You heard the hooks come off one by one, eventually letting her bra fall down by itself. A sigh of relief was also heard by you as Jungeun felt the tension on her chest was released. Her perky breasts were finally revealed to you - Jinsol is bigger than her, but you can say that they are pretty handful.

“Fuck, you’re so hot Jungeun.” You say before planting a quick peck on her lips.

Unable to contain your lust for her anymore, you forcefully grab onto her leggings and rip them open, earning a screech from Jungeun that you always hear in the LOONA memes compilation videos on YouTube. “Hey! Calm your hormones down! Thank god that this is already ripped, otherwise I will be chopping your dick off.” Jungeun was slightly mad at you for destroying her leggings but thankfully, she was okay with it.

You continue to strip her naked by peeling off the ripped leggings off her legs. As you throw away her bra and her leggings off the bed, you are slightly shocked to see Jungeun wasn’t wearing any panties underneath her leggings and is now fully naked right in front of you. Fully mesmerized by the sight, your cock was begging to be released from its confines. But, you already had a deal with her - make her cum and you’ll get a facefuck. Easy.

“Are you gonna eat me out or-ahh..” Jungeun let out a soft moan as you drive your hands towards her clit that is already wet with her juices. You traced her clit with your fingers as you watch Jungeun’s face gradually easing into the pleasure. Jungeun closes her eyes and leans back while you smirk, thinking that she is now under your control. As you continue to move your fingers on her clit, Jungeun spreads her legs and throws her head back, giving you the approval to taste her.

Your hands have moved itself to her thighs to keep her in place while you eat her pussy out. Steadily moving your head down to her glistening clit, you stick out your tongue and lick the juices on her clit, making Jungeun squirm slightly. She tastes sweet and you are addicted to it right away. Not wasting anymore time, you capture her clit with your lips and swirl your tongue, making small circles around it. Jungeun’s hands made it to your hair, gripping onto it tightly as you keep giving her clit the attention that it wants. You feel the burning sensation on your scalp but nothing matters at this point. The only focus that you have at this point is to give Jungeun what she desires.

No progress will be made if you keep using your mouth, so you start moving your hands to her clit and use your fingers to stimulate it. Jungeun's pussy continues to flow out more nectar and her eyes roll back in satisfaction. You pull your lips away from her clit and teased her splayed lips using two fingers before pushing them into her warm and tight cavern. Jungeun reacted with an erotic moan once your fingers enter her body. Moving the joints of your two fingers inside her pussy causes her to flinch around and breathe heavily. She equips herself with a pillow nearby to muffle her moans in reason to keep her tsundere character alive.

You pull your fingers away from her clit slowly and thrust it back inside her deeper than before. You repeat this action several times and eventually find a perfect rhythm. Jungeun was not expecting you to be this good as her moans were getting louder each time you thrust into her. After a few more thrusts, you felt a certain type of flesh inside her pussy has made contact with the tip of your fingers. Jungeun immediately reacts by pulling your hair harder and bucking her hips onto your face even more.

“F-Fuck yeah, that’s the spot...keep doing that,”

Upping the pace of your thrusts into her, you continue to hit her g-spot. Your lips latch onto her clit once again, this time with your tongue assisting your fingers to thrust into her pussy better. Jungeun has lost control over her body, shaking violently and constantly screaming out curse words into the pillow she is holding.

Suddenly, Jungeun lets out the loudest scream into the pillow. Her thighs spontaneously wrap itself around your head, locking you in as she climaxes. You feel her juices flowing into your mouth like a waterfall and drenching your palm at the same time. Her orgasm was really big as you failed to keep all of her juices in your mouth. When you feel that her thighs have weakened its grip on your head, marking the end of her orgasm, you pull out your fingers from her pussy and lapped up the excess juice on her folds. You gulp down on her sweet cum and with a big sigh, you move your face away from her thighs.

There is no other sight that can beat the sight that you have now right in front of you. Jungeun’s face was flushed with satisfaction, her legs were still spread open and her chest was heaving up and down as she was still in a daze after her strong climax just now. You smiled, admiring how much of a mess that she has made.

“Hah..v-very well then, you have impressed me. Now, for your reward.” Jungeun said before moving herself away and pushed you to the headboard, replacing her spot earlier.

She straddles your lap once again and smashes her lips onto yours, tasting herself in your mouth that was filled with her cum just now. In the meantime, her hands find the hem of your pants, reaches inside and drags it off your legs. Pulling her lips away from you after several minutes, Jungeun’s face makes its way down to your crotch that shows off your prominent bulge under your boxers. You squirmed as Jungeun cups your bulge and blows a hot breath onto it. She licks the tip of your penis through the thin fabric of your boxers before pulling it down to uncover your penis. You felt the cold air around the room on your shaft, making it throb and twitch harder.

“Hmm, not as big as I thought, but surely this is enough.” You felt a bullet was shot through your heart.

Jungeun places her hand on the base of your cock, causing it to leak out precum from your slit. She licks her lips before painting a strip of saliva along the underside of your shaft and stopping on the tip. You moaned as Jungeun spits all over your cock and starts sucking on your tip. Her tongue collects all of your precum while her hand spreads her saliva all over your cock, not leaving any parts of it dry. Your cock continued to throb in her small hand alongside your moans that are beginning to increase in volume.

You can’t believe that the cold Kim Jungeun is now on your cock, giving you the fantasy that you desired. Spitting more saliva onto your cock, her hand glides up and down you with no resistance. Her lips detached itself from your tip, giving her fingers access to it to trace your slit and releasing more of your liquid. Jungeun giggles at the expressions that you were making.

“You really are a pervert…” Jungeun said before indulging your cock into her mouth.

Your body weakens once you feel the insides of her mouth with your cock. Jungeun began to bob her head up and down while still grabbing a hold on the base of your shaft. You brought your hand to her head, running your fingers through the soft blonde strands of hair. As she looked up at you, you realized that she looks gorgeous with a cock in her mouth, a sight that will surely make any man happy. Her mouth continued to fill itself with your length until you felt your tip reach the back of her mouth, causing her to gag loudly. Your hands automatically hold her head as the warmness of her mouth and the lustful gag that she lets out is driving you into maximum pleasure.

Jungeun taps on your thigh after a while as she was losing some oxygen. You quickly removed your hand from the back of her head and Jungeun releases her mouth from your cock with a pop, leaving strings of saliva along the way. She takes this time to breath properly to prepare herself for the next act.

“Get off the bed and fuck my mouth.”

You got off the bed quickly while Jungeun gets on her knees. After you remove the last piece of your clothing, she parts her lips, ready to receive your cock again. You hold onto both sides of her head and push a few inches of your cock into her mouth. You start your thrusting with a slow rhythm to make her feel comfortable. As she looks up to you with a gaze filled with lust, you push your shaft even more, causing saliva to escape from the sides of her mouth. When your shaft hits the back of her mouth, she gags on your cock, followed by teardrops on her eyes as she is on cloud nine on how well you are using your reward.

Developing a faster rhythm as time goes by, Jungeun’s face is starting to get messy with her tears and her saliva. You didn’t care about it since you were chasing on your own desires. Sweat formed on your forehead as you fuck her mouth harder. An idea suddenly popped into your mind and after one final deep thrust, you withdrew your cock out of her mouth. Jungeun hyperventilates once you release your grip on her head and wipes off the excessive saliva on her face with her hand.

“Impressive...considering that you haven’t cum yet, you are allowed to fu-” Jungeun was cut off by you grabbing her arms and pinning her to the bed.

“I’m done with you being in charge, now let me take over.” You said sternly, emphasizing on the words, ‘take over’.

Your lust for her was unstoppable at this point. Turning her body around, her face was now buried into the bed. You forcefully grabbed her hips and bent her knees, allowing her hips to stay up. Raising her head slightly to look at you, Jungeun was stunned at your changed behavior. She found it rather attractive, how your eyes were burning with lust and how rough your actions were getting.

As your hands were still on her hips, you moved them to her butt and gently squeezed her cheeks, causing Jungeun to squirm under your touch. Seems like your idea is starting to work out. Using your right hand to stroke your hard cock a few times, you line it up with the pink lips of her pussy that was radiating with heat. Jungeun feels your tip nudging at her entrance and bites her lip once you push it in further. With a satisfied grunt, a few inches of your cock is finally in her cunt. Her walls were suffocating your cock with its tightness but you ignored the pain that you were feeling. Your hips begin to move, thrusting your shaft into her in a slow manner. Her juices were smearing your length, allowing it to slide in and out of her pussy with ease. Jungeun buries her face into the bed to silence her moans, not wanting to show herself falling into your dominance.

You realize what she was doing and you definitely didn’t like it. So, you grab a handful of her long blonde hair and pull it towards you, raising her head so that you can hear her lewd moans. Jungeun stayed strong however, holding her breath a few times and biting her lips harder to resist herself from moaning. Increasing the rhythm of your thrust into her tight cavern, your goal is to make her moan and give up on her tsundere character. Her body shakes in your arms as your thrusts get more aggressive, considering how you are gritting your teeth while pounding her. You lean your body onto her back and rest your head on her shoulder, giving kisses on her neck right after.

“I know that you’re enjoying this, so drop the tough act already,” You gave her butt a harsh slap before bringing your lips closer to her ears.

“And moan for me.”

Like a spark ignited in her body, Jungeun finally lets out her beautiful moans. You smirked, delighted at the fact that Jungeun is now under your spell, which is the pleasure that you are giving her. You continue to thrust into her warm walls even further, increasing the volume of her moans before putting an end to your rhythm and pulling out your cock out of her body, earning a whine from Jungeun.

“Tell me how much you love my cock.” You grab her by the neck and gently squeeze it to force out an answer from her.

“I love your cock so much oppa! Please keep fucking this slut until she cums!” Jungeun screamed.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” You said and gave her ass two hard slaps.

“Ahh! I-I’m sorry oppa…”

“Lay down on the bed. Now.” Your cold tone sent shivers down Jungeun’s spine and quickly enough, she laid back down on the bed and waited for your actions.

You climb back on the bed and move towards her, putting her under your body. You gave her a quick peck on her lips before spreading her legs apart and lining up your cock with her damp pussy once again.

“You can’t cum until I say so. If you cum, I won’t hesitate to punish you.” You said and immediately inserted your cock back into her pussy, making Jungeun scream with ecstasy.

The intensity between you both was at its limit as Jungeun leaked out more and more of her juices from her pussy and your cock throbs harder inside the tight grip of her pussy. Your head leans closer to hers, intently gazing into her heavenly brown eyes that filled with passion and desire. At that moment, Jinsol was completely lost in your mind as you have fallen in love with the woman right in front of you named Kim Jungeun. The rhythm of your pounding never slowed down, instead it keeps going faster and harder. Although your back is starting to emit sweat, your lust for her powers your body to keep going.

No other sounds were heard in the room except for the squelching of her wet and warm walls receiving your shaft, the squeaking of the bed because of your hard thrusts and the symphony of moans from the both of you. Challenging Jungeun’s endurance, your hands land on her perky breasts and begin to knead it gently, aiming to stimulate her into her orgasm. Her pink nipples erect once you use your fingers on them, pinching and pulling it until you replace it with your lips. Gently sucking on her right nipple, a persistent flow of high-pitched moans escapes Jungeun’s lips as the pleasure was too much for her.

“Oppa…please...” Jungeun begged you.

“Giving up already?” You said with a smirk, referencing her words earlier.

Without giving a care to her words, you keep penetrating her hot flesh while teasing her tits. The tip of your cock came into contact with her g-spot and Jungeun screams out your name. You were in euphoria, the pleasure that you were getting was a lot for a man to have. The knot in your stomach is starting to build itself, signaling your upcoming orgasm.

"Do you want to cum baby?"

"Yes please! I want to cum all over your cock pleease!"

"Then, cum. Cover my cock with your cum." You demanded.

Jungeun came instantly. You feel as the walls of her vagina gripped onto your shaft. Her juices gushed out everywhere, mainly coating your cock and your balls. Some leaked out and landed on her bed. Her orgasm was bigger than the first one, acknowledging how you have successfully raised her senses.

"B-Baby..I'm close..." You alerted her.

"O-Outside…" Jungeun weakly replied.

Hearing her words made your brain come up with one decision. You fuck her in a relentless pace as the knot in your stomach grew tighter. Feeling your cock is twitching inside her, you immediately pull out from her tight pussy and straddle her torso, aiming your cock right in front of her face. Jungeun was still weak from her orgasm just now and didn't realize what you were doing. You stroke your cock with a fast motion, easily sliding in and out of your hand because of her juices lubricating it. Eventually, with a big groan, streaks of white and thick semen burst out of your tip, painting Jungeun's enticingly beautiful face. She closes her eyes as she comes back to her senses with more ropes of cum landing on her cheeks and her forehead.

After the last streak of your cum lands on her nose, her gorgeous face is fully covered. You sighed and admired the mess that you had made, the cum that was dripping down and the satisfied expression pictured on Jungeun’s face. Jungeun slowly opened her eyes to be greeted with your sweet smile and your cock that was still throbbing. She was lost in your eyes for a brief moment but suddenly, she pushes you away from her.

“Goddamnit, now I have to clean your filth off, ugh...” Jungeun said and went to the bathroom to wash her face.

“Jungeun I-” You sighed as she closed the bathroom door.

Jungeun looked at herself in the mirror from head to toe. Her thighs were stained with her own cum, her nipples were still erect due to your teasing and of course, her face was coated with your semen. She smiled. Licking a bit of your creamy semen on her lips, she squealed at how she finally tasted a part of you. Worried that you might leave soon as she has another plan set up with you, she quickly washed her face at the sink and got out of the bathroom. You didn’t realize that Jungeun was already out of the bathroom and were about to wear your clothes before a hand stopped you from doing so.

“Shower with me?”

#loona smut #kim lip smut #loona #kim lip #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #reader insert #male reader

633 notes · View notes

palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Note

Shigaraki finally seeing the new recruit without her mask, finding out she’s super hot, and then Shig just basically stares at her all the time, trying to make any and every excuse for her to take off her mask. Can be NSFW, I absolutely would not mind it. Just want Shiggy to find me so attractive he’d nearly kill me to see my face again :p

hey, hi! idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but i did my best ~(˘▽˘)~ warnings: death threats, vaginal fingering

“I don’t know why you bother with the make-up. Right after you finish, you just tack that mask of yours on, covering up all of that extra ornamentation you insist on wearing. Such a waste of time,” Giran scoffs, annoyed that you’ve delayed his meeting with Tomura Shigaraki, again.

“Would it shock you if I said: I don’t give a fuck what you think?” you grin, shouldering open the bar door and dramatically ushering for the broker to enter before you.

“Hmph,” Giran snorts, rolling his eyes. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, careful to blow the smoke toward your masked face. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Whaaat? Me? Oh my God, I’ve never, ever heard that before. And for you to say something so cutting? I’m hurt,” you mock.

“Who’s a piece of work?” Toga calls out as you close the door behind you, knocking the last of the noxious wisps of smoke away.

“Me,” you announce loudly, pacing toward one of the bar stools and seating yourself on the red leather.

“Awe, why’s that?” Twice begins sincerely before stumbling into a quick, “Well, it’s fucking true.”

“He doesn’t like that I took a little bit of extra time to put on make-up. Shigaraki isn’t even down here yet, so I don’t see what the big deal is,” you snark, turning your head toward Giran. He has the grace to give you a disgruntled lifting of his shoulders.

“Well,” Spinner chimes in, “it does seem a little pointless. You are wearing a mask and not just some half mask, that thing covers your whole face.”

“Pointless! Why, no my dear, that’s not pointless, not at all!” Compress defends, his gloved finger tutting Spinner’s hunched figure. “You never know what the next performance will call for! One must always be prepared.”

“Oooh, do you do, like, eyeliner? I looove the winged points.” Toga declares, striding over and leaning close, her big yellow eyes blinking up at you.

“Yeah. I can do winged eyeliner,” you confirm, a grin spreading across your lips. Not that any of them can see it, but they’ll likely hear it’s lift in your voice.

“Ahhh! Teach me, teach me!” Toga claps her hands and perches on the seat next to you. “Oh wait! Before that, can I see it? Just so I can tell how good you are.”

“See? Ah, my face. Um, yeah, I guess...” you begin, fingers reaching behind your jaw, tugging the reinforced porcelain away. Toga’s eyes widen and she cups her face between her hands and hushed gasp sneaking out of her lips.

“You’re so pretty!” she beams. You’re just about to answer her when she tilts her head past you, looking at someone over your shoulder. “Whaddaya’ think Tomura? I like her even better without the mask! You think she’s pretty too, right?”

Without thinking, you twist to look at the league’s defacto leader. He’s stepping out of that long hallway, his face obscured by the pale fingers of Father. However, he does pause, cocking his head at you. From what you can see of his expression, he does look a bit, uh, staggered. One red eye is gleaming out at you, the whites almost comically wide and he lifts a hand to his neck, fingers automatically scritching at the skin they land on. His head rises, chin jutting forward and he takes a step forward, toward you.

Odd, you think, instinctively biting on your lower lip. It’s not like him to stare. Well, at least not that intently. Usually, he ignores your presence, treating you more like the background furniture than a living, breathing, person. Toga’s question hangs on the air and the others start to notice the shift too, their gazes passing between the two of you. You’re about to croak out some kinda response, when Shigaraki does the honors for you.

“We have a meeting,” he rasps and something in his tone breaks the spell. His head finally turns from you and you lower your gaze, sliding your mask back over your features.

“Awe,” Toga bemoans, hopping down from the bar stool. “Don’t think you’re getting out of helping me with my make-up!” She scolds, tossing you a swift wink before following the others as they gather around a low table.

They don’t need you for this part so you shift off of your seat and press open the front door, grateful for the cool autumn air that hits you. You lean up against the brick siding and take a moment to steady your thumping heartbeat. That was a, um, strange interaction.

You’d never put much thought into Shigaraki. He was quiet and there wasn’t much cause for the two of you to interact. Well, besides passing his requests on to Giran, or confirming shipment dates. Honestly, it was nigh impossible to get a read on him most days. Namely because, like you, he always had something obscuring his face.

Despite that, he did have a pleasing build, with broad shoulders, cabled neck muscles and you’d always quietly admired the snaking length of his long legs. The fact that he had white hair and startling red eyes were two other bonuses. You’ve always had a thing for guys that sported a long mop of pearlescent waves and Shigaraki was a pristine specimen in that regard.

Even so, it’s not like you knew much about the guy and you doubted that was going to change any time soon. No, he’d likely only been taken aback by your startled expression. You couldn’t help it. Once Toga had uttered his name you’d wanted to see him, so, so curious to see if he’d comment on your appearance. Would he like you? Notice you? Say something maybe? But, he hadn’t.

So, yeah. That was that. Right?

******

A week passes before you slide into the bar again. This time of year is always busy, but you’ve carved out some time to double check on the league’s shipment requests.

The main room of the bar is quiet, but you can see Shigaraki’s dark back, hunched over the bar top. His head tilts toward you when he hears the door close and that bright eye of his is doing that fervid glint again. His look travels from your neck to your covered face and you can swear his eye narrows when it lands on the smooth surface of your mask.

“What?” he asks, his tone low.

“Uh, I was coming to check on the shipments. See if there was anything extra that you guys needed.”

“Ask Kurogiri,” he clips, that lone eye of his continuing to transverse the planes of your covered face.

“Alright. I’ll go and look for him– ”

“Why do you wear that?” Shigaraki suddenly asks. It’s a simple question, but it makes your heart start that ragged tattoo again. What is wrong with you? You’d think he’d asked for you to strip naked and lay atop the bar, what with the way your heartbeats are palpitating. What’s the big deal?

“Wh-what?” you blankly hear yourself stammering out. You know what he’s asking. You’re not stupid. Apparently, your brain has another plan in mind and that involves, um, playing dumb?

“Your mask,” Shigaraki supplies, his voice falling into a hushed rasp. “Why do you wear it?”

“Well, why do you wear a hand on your face?” Shit. Fuck. What? Why did you say that?

The bar stool scrapes back and you can’t help but wince at the sound, your body flinching. He’s slow as he steps forward, his fingers carefully threaded into his pockets. Once he’s a few feet from you, you let out a slow breath, praying he can’t hear the ragged thuds of your pulse.

“Take it off. The mask, that is,” Shigaraki demands and you can hear that grin, that wicked, wicked smirk that you can only imagine is parting his lips. Lips that you’ve never seen. Lips that are so close. If only he’d...oh, that’s an idea...

“No,” you reply. Your voice is even and strong, thank God, but it doesn’t grant you an immediate reprieve. No, your defiance only makes him shift closer, his chest nearly bumping against yours.

He’s not much taller than you. It’s likely only an inch or two difference, but it suddenly feels like he’s miles above you. Instinctively, you arch your neck, closing that tiny distance to peer up at him. He’s watching you intently and you can hear the steady, in and out, pulls of his breath. Shigaraki lets another few beats pass before he answers your challenge, leaning forward, demanding your full attention with his overwhelming proximity.

“I can just decay it off, you know. It would be easy. But, if I do that, well, you’d need to be quick. You’d have to get it off of you in seconds, because once it starts, it’s hard to predict and I’d hate for my quirk to take the rest of you with it.”

“You’d risk killing me, just to see my face again?”

“Tch. Sure. If you wanna look at it that way. It was a pretty face, (Y/N). So here’s my advice: don’t be fucking obstinate and do as I say.”

“What if...what if I make a deal with you?”

Shigaraki barks out a laugh and the sharp angles of his lips spread past the palm of Father. “A deal? I’ll say it again, since I guess you didn’t hear me the first time, I can decay it off. I don’t need to bargain with you.”

“Sure,” you qualify, the heavy pants of your exhales hitting the front of your mask, bathing you in wild, damp, warmth. “But I don’t like the idea of being the only one who is exposed. Why don’t you let me see you, too?”

“Me?” Shigaraki asks, his head ducking slightly, voice clipping over the word. “Why?”

“Please?” Your hands lift of their own accord, ghosting over the lines of his forearms. You can hear his breath hitch and you rejoice at the tiny sound. He’s right. He could simply raise a hand and disintegrate your mask, and possibly you, to bits, to fucking pieces, but you wanna know. You wanna see him. Besides, you’re starting to like this standoff. There’s something coiling under it and you can almost taste the line of tension that’s tightening between the two of you.

“Only for a second,” you promise, imbuing your tone with airy light. “Come on, what are you scared of? Like you said, it wouldn’t take much for you to kill me. Might be easier even, if I’m, mmm, distracted.”

“You first,” he commands, one of his hands rising from his dark pocket, hovering beside the golden base of Father.

“Ugh. You’re not gonna go back on your part, are you?” you tease, fingers already cupping at your jaw, peeling the heated porcelain away from your skin.

“I might,” Shigaraki taunts, “you’ll need to take that mask off to find out, won’t you? Oh, and you can go slow. Since you seem to be partial to the theatrics of it all, why don’t you put on a nice show for me?”

Woah.

A gasp falls from your lips before you can contain it and Shigaraki presses his advantage, his white hair falling toward you as he looms impossibly closer, that red eye glowing in the darkness of the bar. Ok, ok, you think, gulping down your nerves and that rising crest of fucking arousal that’s pricking between your legs.

Your mask is leaden in your hands, but you do your best to steady your shaking fingers. You can feel the familiar weight slipping from your chin, your cheeks, your nose, but it feels different, too. Charged and heavy. A light rush of gooseflesh bumps its way up your arms and you tremble when the mask finally slides past one half of your face.

Without warning, Shigaraki’s hand whips forward, snatching onto your wrist. That one, all important, finger is arched away but he stills your movements with a squeeze, his eye whisking over you. He lets his gaze linger indulgently against your lips, tracing the dip and pout of your mouth. Then, he lifts his intensity to your own stare, that broad smile rising along his lips. A pleased rumble echoes from his chest and you almost reply with a moan.

Fuck. This is...

It’s like standing too close to an open flame and your whole body feels like it’s reacting to the sting, the burn that is rising within you. “Do...do you want me to keep going?”

His reply is a silent one. Silent, but firm. That hand that’s wrapped around your wrist, that’s blazing the heat of him into you, pulls. It takes your arm and the rest of your mask with it, leaving you bare and vulnerable, completely at the mercy of that hungry eye.

You can’t fucking breathe and you’re biting your lip so hard that you’re worried the skin is about to split open. Shigaraki is quiet but his head tilts, cascading white hair against his dark shoulder. This is ridiculous, you think, unable to snatch yourself away from him. It’s not even both eyes. He’s only looking at you with one eye. Shit, what will two eyes do? Is he going to keep his side of this? Do you even really want him to? What if...it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what it means, or what it does, you want to see him, all of him.

After all, fair is fair.

His fingers are still curled around your wrist and you feel each indentation of his finger pads, hot against your chilled flesh. “S-so,” you begin, your words snagging in your throat, “are you gonna hold up your end?”

You can hear his snort of amusement but he does release your hand. Once his elegant digits pass the pasty gloom of the embalmed hand on his face, you can feel your heartbeat slowing, your eyes following his motions, watching, waiting. He’s not as slow as you were, but he gives you a moment to savor, teasingly lifting the obscuring palm up and away.

Oh.

Your mask clatters to the floor, skittering across the wood, shattering the weighty silence. Without thinking, your hand comes up to his cheek, letting your brave thumb run across that tiny mole on his chin. He’s not handsome. No, he’s not what anyone would deem perfect, not with those cracks and scars, but fuck, he’s beautiful. It’s a shattered magnificence and you’re so glad you asked him for it.

“Didn’t say you could touch,” Shigaraki growls, his voice rasping toward that lower register.

“It’s ok,” you reassure him, your other hand lifting to feel out the smooth and rough patches of his skin. “You can touch me, too.”

He groans at that, those red eyes finally slipping closed. He’s uneasy at this part, his hands too broad and too jittery to really appreciate the curve of your face, but dips his head closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

When you dance your fingers over his lips, he moves in the same moment. He’s arms cage around you and he yanks you to him, sucking, biting, kissing you until you can’t think, let alone breathe.

The bump of the couch is a surprise and you topple backwards, splayed across the tattered cushions. You hadn’t even realized you’d taken those steps, that he’d pushed you that way. It doesn’t matter, because he’s on top of you, seconds later, his fingers everywhere, touching every part of you that he can reach.

“How are you so warm?” he asks, sliding his palms under your shirt, cupping at the roundness of your breasts. His voice is soft, awed, and you grin up at him, urging his lips back to yours.

“What’s the matter?” you tease, worrying his chapped lip between your teeth. “What happened to all those death threats?”

Shigaraki smirks, pulling away from your mischievous bites, that long scar across his lip rising. One of his hands wanders downward, feeling for the edge of your pants, while the other encloses around your neck, clamping until you’re arching under him, eyes shut and lips parted.

“You like that I can kill you?” he leers, finally snapping the button of your jeans open, permitting his inquisitive touch to dip into something even warmer than the skin of your breasts. He breaches the fluttering petals of your cunt and glides into your heat, hissing at the slick that pools around him.

The hand at your throat squeezes again, demanding your answer. “Y-yes,” you gasp, hips canting up at the steady rhythm he’s building inside you.

“Hmm,” he ponders, releasing your neck and lifting that hand in front of your face. “Then you better hope I can control myself. We’ll start with something simple. These clothes of yours should be easy enough to decay...” His thumb swipes across your budding clit and you writhe, squirming and panting. “Ah-ah,” he warns a cruel grin spreading along his lips. “Keep still. I’d hate for my hand to slip.”

Carefully, he lowers his free hand, trailing it toward your shirt. Once four fingers are curled under the hem, he reapplies his other thumb, circling until you’re white knuckling the cushions. “Don’t forget,” he reminds you, adding the tiniest pressure to his oscillations, “one wrong move and you’re nothing but bone and gristle. Tch, it would be such poor timing too, what when we’re just starting to have so much fun together”

Then, he lowers that deadly finger.

notes: again, not sure if it’s exactly what you had in mind, but I had fun with it!

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on tomura #and on his face #and fingers #just all of him #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #tekno shimura #shimura tenko #bnha smut #drabble

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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writersrealmbts · 4 years ago

Text

If You Have Half a Brain

Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo! For the Pina Coladas prompt. You’ve been a bit down on your luck, until one of your customers, who is definitely drunk, strikes up a conversation with you and offers you a job.

Warnings: Mentions of death, drunken antics (mild), mild language, mentions of blood/injuries (very briefly)

Posted: 06/04/2021

Tags: Hoseok x reader, business au,

Slice of Life/Angst/moments of fluff: 11,698 words

A/N: I think it’s been over a month since I posted a story, so here’s over 10k words. Enjoy! Thanks to @kerikaaria for beta reading this

“Sir, you ordered a virgin.”

“Whoa, no! I didn’t even know that this was that kind of place, I mean, kudos on the confidence and I mean that in the best way because you shouldn’t be ashamed—“

“Your drink,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “It’s non-alcoholic. You ordered a virgin drink.”

“What? No I didn’t, I ordered a pina colada!”

“No, our menu doesn’t offer pina coladas. What you ordered was our Niño colada, which is from our non-alcoholic menu. I apologize for any inconvenience, but if this is you with a little bit of alcohol, then I think you should stick to sobriety.”

He stared at you, slack-jawed and blinking. “Why don’t you have pina coladas?”

You sighed. “We don’t stock rum.”

He made a choked sound. “The…rum…is gone?”

“Yes. The rum is gone.” You had a sinking feeling that you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Why is the rum always gone?!” He exclaimed, flopping onto the table.

“From your behavior, I’m going to assume you’ve consumed every last drop of it, Captain Sparrow,” You replied dryly. Well, your boss was right. You were not cut out for this job. “Now, if you’re not going to order something else, I’m going to go turn in my apron and start job hunting again.”

“Wait! Wait! Do you like piña coladas?” He asked, catching the pocket of your apron.

“I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are anything along the lines of ‘and getting caught in the rain’ I will murder you without regret.”

His teeth clicked shut. His eyes darted over your face. “But do you?”

You took a deep breath. “I can’t stand coconut.”

“You…don’t like…coconut?” He looked horrified. “Then…coconut chicken?”

“Ew.”

“Coconut ice cream?”

“Waste of sugar and time, a lot like this conversation. I don’t like coconut. I hate it when people cook in coconut oil because saying it’s tasteless is Bull.” You crossed your arms. “New drink or what?”

He stared at you for a while, then smiled softly. “You’re too good for this job, anyway. You should work for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come work for me.”

“Repeating that doesn’t tell me what you’re saying.”

“I own a company. I need someone who can deal with trash like me and keep them away from me. You do not have to be polite to the trash either.” He leaned his chin on a propped-up fist. “Your job would quite honestly be saying what was on your mind and telling me and anyone else off.” He looked and sounded surprisingly sober compared to before.

“Please tell me you didn’t use piña coladas to test a potential hire.”

He grinned. “Not intentionally.”

I folded your arms, trying to gauge whether or not he was being serious. “You’re not saying this because you’re drunk, are you?”

“I’m not drunk!” He argued, eyes wide. “I’ve only had one glass of wine!”

You cringed. “At least tell me it was a large one.”

“N-not particularly.”

“Oh dude, either your acting is pretty on point, or you’re a serious lightweight and should stick to the non-alcoholic menu.” You shook your head.

His already flushed cheeks turned more red. “Wha—“ he huffed. “Do you want the job or not?”

You considered it, a little surprised you were even considering it, and shrugged. “Not sure I believe you still.”

He huffed and fumbled to pull out his wallet, fumbled more, then handed you a business card. “That’s me. Call or show up or anything. My personal cards are like golden tickets.”

You took the card warily.

The side of the cards facing you had a phone number in shimmering gold lettering, and the other side looked like a splash of summer colors—Bold black lettering spelling out his name and the name of the company.

“Hoseok Jung, CEO of HopeWorld Incorporated,” you read aloud, a little…skeptical. “If you are this person, what the heck do you want me for?”

“Honestly…I need someone sensible who won’t just try to stay on my good side. I need someone who will risk their job to threaten anyone that is being ridiculous with murder. I’m bad at that. I need a spiky person cause I’m just…I have things I’m strong on, but there are times when I just need someone to say things like they are. No bull.”

“And based on our interactions here, you think that’s me?”

He nodded. “I only played up the antics a bit.”

“Do you often hire your waitresses?”

He grinned. “No, but I have found most of my best people by chance. One other waiter, but I knew him before.”

“Your best people?”

“You’ve heard of my company?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Then you’ve heard the names Suga, RM, and V.”

You paused. “Yes.”

“Suga and I met at a club. RM and I met in a museum, and I met V when I was at an animal shelter.” He shrugged. “We had a good rapport. I offered them jobs. My friends over there are also part of my inner circle. It would have been better if you liked piña coladas, but you should still be okay with them.”

You stared over to where his friends were goofing off in the pool. Those idiot men were part of the inner circle of one of the biggest companies ever? The company that….

Two screeched as they went into the water, losing the game of chicken.

“They are part of your brain trust? Is the one even old enough for alcohol?”

“Yeah, he just tends to pick people up when he’s buzzed.”

“So, scandal prone.”

“No, no, I mean physically lift them. Usually just us. He’s not really a social person. Just us.”

“Ah.” You weren’t sure what to make of that.

“Actually—“

“Y/n! I’m not paying you to stand around!”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m done after I finish discussing our menu with this gentleman, Sir.” You called back, then turned to Hoseok. “How much would I be paid?”

“To start...how about $16 an hour?”

You stared at him. “$16 an hour?”

“Plus benefits, we have an excellent benefits program.”

“$16 an hour?” You repeated, a little shocked and numb. Plus benefits, even if you only worked there for a week, you’d be able to cover all of your expenses.

“Alright, okay, fine, $18 an hour—but no more than that until we know if it will work out. Then we can discuss raises. Deal?” He stuck his hand out.

You considered it for a moment, then shook his hand. “Right. Okay. When do I start?”

“Tomorrow, 8 a.m.”

You nodded. “Business dress?”

He shrugged, “If you like. Just dress nicely.”

You nodded. “Fine. Okay. See you then. I have a job to quit.”

He nodded with a smile. “I look forward to working with you.”

———

If you had thought that your means of obtaining this job had been strange, nothing had prepared you for your first day working there.

You had dressed well, wearing your favorite interview outfit because it was the nicest outfit you owned and you would be shopping later today so you knew what you needed to buy.

You entered the sleek looking building, and went to the reception desk. “Hello, I was told to come in today.” You pulled out the business card and showed it to the secretary.

Her eyes widened. “Whoa. You met Mr. Jung?”

“Uhm, yes. Yes I did. And he told me to come in today, at eight.”

“Right, okay, um, let me get you a temporary I.D.so you can get around today, and you’ll have to talk to H.R. later about your permanent one. Take this, and then head up to the top floor, he’ll want you to report straight to his office. At least, that’s what protocol states.”

You nodded, absorbing the information easily. “Top floor, his office, report to HR later for a permanent ID. Return this at the end of the day?”

“Yes, thank you, and good luck on your first day!” She practically sang, going back to her computer.

You slid the ID necklace over your head and went straight for the elevator, hitting the button for the top floor.

The way she spoke was almost like she had never met the CEO, which seemed unlikely to you, but maybe you were just misreading it.

The top floor was as quiet as the rest of the building, and you had a feeling most employees didn’t start until 9. But there was faint music coming from the biggest office—the CEO’s office.

You took a breath to steady yourself and then knocked on the door.

“Come on in, y/n!”

You shook your head slightly and did as told, walking into the office.

Entering the building, you had been pleasantly surprised by the way everything seemed light and airy, with bright splashes of color in appropriate amounts in the appropriate places, making it feel less like an office and more of a...you weren’t sure what it felt like, but it felt nicer than an office.

Entering Hoseok Jung’s office had a similar effect. There were knickknacks, but they weren’t overwhelming, and splashes of color were all throughout the room, but was balanced by a sort of modern elegance of his sleek office furniture and the immense natural lighting.

“Do you like it?”

You considered it all. “It’s not to my taste, but it is well balanced and I can appreciate the aesthetic.”

He grinned. “See, you’re already doing better.”

“The receptionist acts like she’s never seen you before.”

“Oh, well, most people only see J-Hope, one of the senior workers who reports directly to Mr. Jung. That’s how I got into the business to take it over from my father.” He shrugged. “Eventually, they’ll find out that J-Hope is me, but for now, J-Hope is well-liked. My ‘brain trust’ as you called them, will be here in about half an hour, which gives us time. Come on, I’ll show you to your office. Remember, it’s not your job to make friends, it’s your job to call things as you see them.”

You shrugged. “And if that means holding my tongue?”

“Then I trust you to say something later, when you deem the time to be right.”

“You know this is crazy, right?”

He grinned. “I know that you think it’s crazy, but I’m glad you’re telling me.”

You shook your head as you followed him out, noting that he wasn’t wearing a full suit. More like slacks and a shirt that wasn’t a button-up, but also wasn’t a plain t-shirt? Very loose-fitting, possibly a few sizes too big. His slacks weren't even slack, not really. Just grey, loose-fitting pants.

“You don’t dress much like a CEO.”

He chuckled. “I know. Jimin tells me that all the time, trust me, I do when I have to. But J-Hope likes loose clothing.”

You shook your head a bit.

“This will be your office.”

“It’s right next to yours.”

“Well, you are going to be my left-hand person. Left hand office.”

You followed him into the office that was way too good to be true.

“Obviously you can decorate it as you like, outside of the desk. The desk chair you get to choose from a magazine that we use for office supplies. We also ask that you don’t break any walls or windows.”

“I have a balcony,” you breathed.

“Yeah. There’s actually a door out there that connects our balconies, my side is pretty much never locked, but you can lock your side as well.”

“Like in hotels.”

“Yes.”

“So, if I'm your left, who’s your right?”

“Suga. Yoongi. You’ll like him, I think.” He picked up a random sticky note, looking amused. “Last guy didn’t clean out very well, sorry.”

“Shouldn’t a janitor have made it in here since?”

He paused. “Oh. Yes.”

“Which makes me wonder when the last time anything up here has been cleaned.” You ran a finger over the desk, nose wrinkling in disgust at the dust on your fingers.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh no no no.”

“I need to wash my hands,” You said, feeling a little contaminated. “Bathrooms.”

“This way.”

The bathrooms on the top floor were actual bathrooms, as in, one toilet and sink per room instead of the public bathroom style. There were three of them, mostly the same size, but one also had a larger vanity area with drawers under it.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to follow you in, but this bathroom is one that we usually keep locked, so if you want to keep makeup or other things in here, no one uses the third drawer over right now.” He tapped it. “You’ll be getting a key to it later today, so you can put it in later if you need to.”

You nodded, wrinkling your nose at the smell of the soap. “Oh, you’re kidding me. Piña colada soap?”

He chuckled, scratching his neck. “You can also bring in your own soap. Yoongi does. He just hasn’t replaced his yet.”

You shook your head. “Right.”

“If it helps, it’s only that during the summer.”

“What is it in winter? Eggnog?”

He shook his head. “Cinnamon rolls.”

“Are you all trying to psychologically torture yourselves?” You asked, drying your hands. “Piña coladas when you have to work, cinnamon rolls to make yourself hungry….”

Hoseok shrugged.

You sighed. “Alright. Where to now?”

“Morning meeting.” He waved for you to follow him, and led the way down to a conference room. “Jimin and Tae bring coffee and pastries and we go over our agendas and projects. Today that will include introducing you. I do have one thing to ask, and it might be inappropriate so if it is you can just hit me—“

“Or you could just not ask it.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Right. Yeah.”

You helped straighten the chairs, seeing the frown on his face at how disheveled the room was. “So, what will I be doing today, besides accompanying you to fire the janitor.”

He cringed. “Well, tour the company. Stop by HR. Meet the security team. Talk to the janitorial staff and threaten firing them to improve their work ethic. Then if that doesn’t work, yes, you will be there to help me fire people.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be the bad guy. You keep your J-Hope persona.” You sighed. “Really? No one caught onto you being the CEO with the name J-Hope?”

He just grinned again. “Best disguise is right under your nose.”

“The best disguise is an effective one that actually exists.”

“I’m glad I met you,” He responded with a light laugh.

“I’ve been criticizing you since I arrived.” You actually felt guilty about that, but only slightly. You weren’t about to lose sleep over it.

He just smiled. “You’ve been honest. I…I really missed honesty.”

“Your inner circle aren’t honest?”

“They are…but they’re…it’s different. Sometimes you need to shake things up. I think we all need shaking up.”

You frowned. “Okay. Level with me: what happened?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What happened to make you think that things need to be shaken up?”

His face relaxed, eyes seeming to glaze as they shifted to the meeting table. “I…uh, I lost someone I cared about. You know that cruise ship disaster?”

You nodded. “HopeWorld donated a whole lot of money to cover the bills of those injured, and help cover funeral bills for others. Some people wondered if you guys had some sort of stock in the cruise ship or had been involved in the explosion, but you were just being kind. Plus by helping them out financially they could stand up to the cruise company.”

He shrugged, but also nodded. “And I needed a reason to be there. Looking.”

“Girlfriend or boyfriend?”

He choked out a laugh. “Yeah. And my sister and her husband. And my parents. I was supposed to join them at a different port.”

You felt like you’d been sucker-punched. “Oh my God.”

“Didn’t lose all of them. My dad is still in the hospital, Mom is home but she visits him everyday.” He rubbed his neck. “My sister's husband went back to work just a week ago, and he’s not having an easy time of it, but he’s pushing on. My sister hasn’t woken up yet, but we’re still hopeful. I hope she wakes up soon. She’s the other person I always relied on to be honest with me.”

You slowly nodded. “And your…significant other?”

“Idiot died. One of the lifeboats got stuck on release. Climbed out and cut the rope. Snapped back.” He shrugged again.

“Could have been worse,” You murmured, clenching a fist. You knew that description. You gave that description.

“Ok, this is one time when maybe you shouldn’t be honest.” He rubbed his forehead.

“Hey, my step-dad died because he thought he could swallow a golf ball and decided to try when no one was home. My younger brother tail-gated a semi. My father died from a sliver after saving eight school-age children.” You shrugged. “There are all sorts of ways to go out of this world. Doing the right thing…the heroic thing, that counts for a lot in my book. But there is such a thing as stupidly heroic.”

He stared at you wide-eyed. “A…golf ball?”

You shrugged. “I believe I implied that he wasn’t intelligent.”

Hoseok snorted and then started laughing. “I-I’m sorry!”

You smiled. “Good. Your brain trust will be here soon.”

“Did he…did he really…?”

“It was a little more complicated, and there was booze involved, but essentially, yes.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sound so heartbroken.”

You shrugged. “Life goes on.”

“What does it go on from?” A new voice asked.

You turned to see one of the boys from the pool yesterday.

He looked you up and down, and offered a slight smile and his hand. “Hey. You must be the waitress that Hobi got so excited about hiring yesterday. I’m Taehyung, or, as the media knows me, V.”

You shook his hand. “Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“Do you like Pina Coladas?” Taehyung asked, setting the box of what you assumed were pastries on the table.

“No.”

He froze a bit. “Really?”

“Really.”

“But...why? Wait...oh no...you don’t like them?” He stared at the box of pastries.

You looked at the box. “Let me guess, non-alcoholic pina colada donuts.”

“We don’t normally get them, I just saw them and I thought it’d be fun….” He looked completely dejected. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I ate breakfast anyway. I had an omelet, and I have a chocolate muffin in my packed lunch in my office. So, if you would like, I can get that and you can pretend you got it specially for me because I got it from the same shop.”

He gasped. “Their chocolate muffins are amazing.”

“Do you want me to pretend?”

He considered it a moment.

“He doesn’t want everyone to be eating and not you,” Hoseok chuckled. “He’s sweet like that.”

You nodded. “Did the door to my office get locked?”

Hoseok shook his head. “I left it open so that you could get in and out without your keys, and so we could send a janitor in after the meeting. Maybe put your things in our breakroom for now.”

You nodded sharply.

“I’ll get it, if that’s okay with you?” Taehyung said.

You shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

He bounced a bit as he raced out.

“Good job, offering to lie on your first day.” Hoseok looked amused.

“He looked like a kicked puppy. I’m honest, not abusive and heartless. Besides, it’s more to make him feel good. Most people would figure it out, right away.”

Hoseok nodded. “I guess so.”

“It doesn’t breach my not-yet-existing contract to lie, does it?”

He shook his head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Both of you fell quiet as Taehyung came back and slipped the muffin into the box of donuts (carefully).

Then several men arrived at about the same time.

“Hi, y/n! I’m Jimin, and I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got you a chocolate crème frappuccino. Is that okay?”

You nodded, smiling. “Sounds good. Thank you.” You took the cup and studied where they were sitting before taking a seat yourself--at the left hand of Hoseok--when he indicated for you to sit there.

“For the future, what do you normally drink?”

“This,” You answered, smiling. “I try to limit my caffeine intake.”

“Great, I’ll add it to my list and we can discuss alternatives later.” Jimin opened the donut box. “Tae, what have you done?”

“Pina colada donuts,” Tae answered, grinning. “And a muffin for y/n.”

Half of the boys had already grabbed a donut, or were in the process of doing so, but all seemed to freeze a bit.

“Why a muffin for y/n?”

“I don’t like coconut,” You answered, shrugging.

“Wait...at all?” One of them asked, eyes wide.

You sighed. “Nope. That is possible, you know. Just like I’m sure the odds are in my favor that at least one of you doesn’t like seafood. One of you probably doesn’t like coffee, one of you probably doesn’t like tea, and a few of you probably don’t like mint ice-cream.”

They all seemed to be surprised and yet also guilty.

“Well….”

One huffed. “Why did you hire her again? She doesn’t even like pina coladas.”

“Not everyone does,” Hoseok replied easily. “Shall we start our morning download?”

You studied the others as they dug into their donuts, wondering where the odd obsession with pina coladas came from--not for the first time. But they weren’t the only people you’d ever met with the obsession, and you doubted they would be the last.

“Besides, it can’t hurt us to look at things other than pina coladas.”

“Please,” One of them grumbled. “I don’t want to get sick of them.”

“Fine. Then let me ask this,” the huffy one asked. “Y/n, what is your beverage of choice?”

You met his gaze evenly, calculating all of the answers he could expect and all of the answers you could give him. But one stuck out as particularly perturbing for someone like him and a situation like this.

You leaned forward, smiled slightly, and answered, “Water.”

His eyes widened and he spluttered. “Water?”

“Water,” You confirmed cheerfully. “If I have to choose anything, I choose water.”

“Great, you can be the designated driver,” Taehyung joked, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Huffy sat down, looking like he lost five years off of his life. “No way can we do a water theme….”

“If we could get back to what we’re being paid to be here for, that’d be great,” You said, in a tone that was too sweet to be honest.

Hoseok chuckled a little. “Right. Y/n is here to keep things...possible and practical. Her job is to be bluntly and brutally honest about things. After she gets a feel for this place, I’m sure she’ll feel more comfortable giving us all a piece of her mind. She’ll be shadowing me as J-Hope, and I’m not going to announce her job title for a while.”

“Because you don’t know what to call my job?”

“Pretty much. Anyway, as you guys know, we’re...running a little thin right now, and that’s on me. We’re going to be tightening up the ship, and making sure we’re running properly. Jimin, I need finances from across the company. Tae, I need all of the reports from HR. Jin and Jungkook, I want a list and summary of all of the projects we’re working on right now. Yoongi and Namjoon: keep working on that one project. Anything I need to know right now?”

“We have that event tomorrow, with the food trucks, and we need to decide on the judges.”

“Okay, so, we let everyone who wants to judge put their name on a list, then we’ll draw names from a hat. Jimin’s on the judgement panel as well.”

“I am?”

“You’ll eat anything, the rest of us are too picky. And Jungkook will be filming.” Hoseok made a couple of notes. “I have to talk to our janitorial staff, and y/n will be with me. They haven’t been cleaning up here like they’re supposed to. Y/n’s office was disgusting, and this room was a mess.”

“Uh oh. Firing anyone?”

“He wants to see if talking to them will fix the issue first,” You said dryly. “Which, in my experience, is a waste of time. There’s always someone dragging their feet and I bet if we looked through the HR reports, or even sent me in under cover for a few hours, we’d be able to pinpoint the weak link and remove it from the chain.”

“She’s got a point. I could take her down and tell them she’s doing some work in each department. We’ve done that before, for people who were actually working for one of the departments.” Jimin clicked his pen a couple of times.

Hoseok considered it a moment while he worked on a bite of his donut, then nodded. “Alright. Then we’ll do that. You might need different clothing. If it takes more than a couple of hours, don’t worry about it. If this works, we’ll put you in different departments as though you were experiencing everything. Because I think we need a spy in the HR department as well. Plus anything you find about employee welfare and happiness, that’s always a good thing. We’ll say you’re one of Jimin’s random hires. Get it done.”

Jimin nodded, then checked you over. “They’ll give her a uniform, so we don’t need to worry about her clothing. Maybe just fix your hair so that you look more like ‘random girl’ instead of ‘sophisticated lady’.”

“Did you just call me a lady?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Jimin shrugged.

“Anyway, finish things here, then y/n dress down and we’ll discuss your work later today. You’ll eat lunch with us, Jimin, make sure to mention that.” Hoseok wrote a couple more things down. “I’ll be in my office, reviewing things. I’ll let you know at lunch what the real plan is. We’re gonna change things.”

“Okay,” Huffy said firmly. “That’s that then. Donuts done, coffee drunk, work to do. Off we go. The sooner we work, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get a drink.”

That seemed to be the signal for everyone to get up and get moving.

You followed Jimin out, letting him lead you to the bathroom. “Sophisticated lady?”

“Make your hair more casual, maybe remove some of your makeup. And lose the jacket.”

You sighed and did as you were told as he disappeared for a moment, returning with a different shirt and a sweater.

“Try these.”

You looked at them, a little concerned.

“They’re clean, trust me. And they’re more casual than what you’re wearing.”

You waved him out of the room again, changing into the new shirt and sweater, a little disturbed at how well they fit. “Where did you get these?” You asked, opening the door again.

“Someone left them behind. Can’t remember when, can’t remember who, just remember they didn’t work here.” He checked his own hair while you switched your hair from a bun to a nice-looking pony-tail. “Can’t even remember why her shirt and sweater were left behind. Think she borrowed one of mine?”

You stared at him. “Did you sleep with this girl?”

He turned back to you with a half-smile. “No. I was drunk, but no. My boyfriend at that time wouldn’t have been too thrilled.”

“Do you have baggage about said boyfriend as your friend does about the significant other that he lost?” You asked, studying the impish man in front of you.

Jimin’s smile died a bit. “Told you about that, did he?”

“More or less. Focused more on the ones that survived rather than the one that died. So, baggage: yes or no?”

Jimin came and stood right in front of you, then moved closer, reaching and closing the bathroom door, locking it.

You clenched a fist, just in case.

“Baggage...yes. Same ship. All of us, the whole board, everyone in there. My boyfriend...we were at the point of breaking up anyway, so I feel guilty about that, because he wouldn’t have been there if I had. Hoseok was going to propose. Namjoon’s childhood friend. Yoongi’s girlfriend was paralyzed, and her brain...she only recognizes her family and she’s...not doing well. Two of Taehyung’s friends. Jungkook’s brother. Seokjin’s whole family, except his nephew. He jokes about drinking, but he really just wants to get to the daycare at a decent time. If he knows he has to stay late, he has a babysitter that brings his nephew here. Hoseok feels a lot of responsibility because he was the one who suggested we have a board retreat and invite family and friends. Seokjin, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jungkook were all there when it happened. Myself, Yoongi, and Hoseok were delayed because of an emergency on a project we were heading up.”

You nodded slowly. “Got it. So, this company is being run by seven people who have undergone a whole lot of trauma and grief in the past six months. That doesn’t sound at all like a recipe for disaster.” Eight, a little voice whispered, eight if you’re included.

Jimin nodded a bit. “Right. What did you lose in that accident?”

You held his gaze steadily. “The will to please others with false actions and honeyed words.”

Jimin’s head tilted slightly and his eyes narrowed just a bit.

“My older brother worked on that ship, one of the engineers. He’d been filing reports like a good little worker bee about some of the issues they were seeing, but the reports were being ignored. He was threatened, and told to keep quiet if he wanted to keep his job. He told me, I told him to fight, to make sure no one got on that damn ship.”

“But he didn’t,” Jimin whispered, gaze shifting away from you.

“But I gave the people suing that company everything they needed to win their case, especially with HopeWorld providing the financial means for everyone to fight. It was serious neglect on their part, but even I was too pliant to do anything about it. So I’m done. I’m done trying to please others and put up with their crap and if you don’t unlock that door, I’m sorry, but I might punch you.”

He unlocked it. “Right. Sorry.”

“I’ve been dealing with too many thugs from the cruise company. That’s why I was job hunting. That’s why I got that job at the bar. It was a favor that a friend called in from the owner, but they both thought I was a bad fit. I was just desperate. And then Hoseok came in drunk on one glass of wine and complaining about a virgin pina colada.”

“That’s why he wouldn’t stop talking about virgins,” Jimin muttered. “He kept saying something about virgins being confident, and that he wished he was that confident, and that he was joking about not ordering virgins and it was all weird.”

“He should not be allowed to drink.”

“Well, normally he’s a sober and sleepy drunk, so, yesterday was a bit of an outlier. Happiest I’d seen him in a while, though. Especially after he met you.” He was studying you again.

“If you have something to say, then say it. I told you, I’m not waiting around for BS.”

“You’re not like the person he lost, I can tell that right away. But you’re the first person he’s shown...interest in. I guess I’m just curious about what he saw that intrigued him so much.”

“My winning personality and barbed words,” You answered, then grabbed your wallet from your purse and tucked it into your pocket, shoving the purse into the empty drawer that Hoseok had pointed out earlier. “What was the person he lost like?”

“Soft, a little...out-there, artistic, wild dreamer, adventurous, spontaneous,” Jimin listed, then shrugged. “Different.”

You paused to look at Jimin again. “When you said he’s taken an interest in me, did you mean….”

“Possibly romantically. Not definite, but there’s always a few different paths interest in other people can take us, isn’t there. If you’re anything like I’m assuming you are, you’d actually be a good match for him.” Jimin walked out. “Now, come on. We’ve got work to do.”

-----

You were undercover in HopeWorld for a week before you finally were able to return and start moving into your office--having turned in a twenty-page report on your findings while working undercover.

And it was spotlessly clean this time, and there was a computer there. It was even sporting a nice, new plant in the one corner with a card that read it was from all of the other board members.

The winky-face said that Taehyung had been in charge of delivering it and writing the note.

So you set to unpacking the small box of office supplies that you were bringing in.

You were getting a corkboard and a whiteboard later, plus two more chairs so that anyone else in your office could sit down (or you could switch seats through the day if you needed to), and you definitely planned on bringing some more plants here since it got more sunlight than your tiny flat did.

So you unpacked a couple of empty binders, sheafs of paper, a few notebooks, your new pens and pencils, and your pen and pencil holders. You set a photo-frame on your desk. You pulled out a bottle of lotion and put it in one of your desk drawers.

And that’s where you found the photo of Hoseok with the person that had to be his lover.

“Of course,” You murmured, sighing, then you set the photo aside to return to him at your meeting later.

In the past week, you’d gotten a pretty good read on most of the boys, even Yoongi.

But Seokjin was distant, and kept you distant. He didn’t stick around on the days you were in what was technically his department, instead finding an excuse to be elsewhere.

Taehyung and Jimin had both shrugged when you told them that Seokjin was avoiding you.

“Don’t see why he would,” Jimin said, and you knew he was being honest.

It was fine. The boys weren’t your job anyway. Your job was to look at things practically, find problems or potential problems, and present them to people who could fix them. Your job was to question everything so that every eventuality is considered and the best product of the workers' time is produced.

“That’s not a very big box for such a big office.”

You jumped and dropped the stapler, but jumped back so that it wouldn’t staple you on accident (something that had, unfortunately, happened before). “You trying to give me a heart attack?”

Seokjin shrugged, strolling in casually and picking it up. “Not my intention.”

“Then what is your intention?” You asked, wondering what could have brought the illusive man to your office before the morning meeting. According to the others, and your own experiences, he was always just barely on time for the meeting.

He just looked at you carefully. “Can I ask you a question, and get an honest answer?”

“Fire away,” You replied, lifting an eyebrow curiously.

He moved closer so he was looking you in the eye. “Why did you take this job?”

You frowned a bit, stepping back and trying to figure out why he was asking that. But also, how to answer.

“Please answer honestly.”

“Jimin told you about my brother, the cruise ship?”

“Yes. He told all of us, Hoseok too. Hoseok had his suspicions. I don’t think they know that you were on the ship as well.”

You huffed out a laugh and leaned against your desk. “Good. I don’t need any of that nonsense.”

He nodded. “You were answering my question.”

You took a deep breath and then released it, looking at the ceiling. “Desperation. Have to pay the rent. And he seemed...optimistic.” There was something appealing to that optimism. Something familiar and comfortable. Refreshing.

“What did he tell you your job was going to be?”

“Dealing with trash that tried to get near him.”

“What’s on your resume?”

“Nothing to make me qualify for this office. And if you think I’m here because I’m taking advantage of his kindness...I can’t say that you’re wrong, but I’m also just curious about what he intends for me. Don’t think that I enjoy saying that someone is dead weight. They’re people, and they need to make a living somehow, but they need to make that living honestly. THere are people who want jobs, who need jobs, who are actually willing to put in the work.”

“So, going undercover…?”

“It was a solution that would alleviate the feelings of guilt that our boss might have felt if we hadn’t fully investigated and ended up firing someone. Besides, he strikes me as a bit of a neat freak, so I figure the janitorial staff should be top-notch. I did hear a rumor that J-Hope had liberated a cleaning cart and taken it to the top floor, though.”

Jin sighed, shaking his head. “He really hasn’t trusted the cleaning staff since your first day.”

“Lovely. Did he clean this office?”

“Gotta admire his work ethic.”

You shook your head. “So, I’m not the only person who’s almost completely in the dark about what my job actually is, am I?”

“I think he keeps rethinking what he wants for you.”

“And you’ve been avoiding me because…?”

He shrugged a bit. “I haven’t. It’s been a bad week for my nephew. I’ve been in and out of the office all week. Plus I’ve been working with Hobi.”

You both jumped as someone banged on your office door.

Hoseok threw it open with a grin, then halted, surprised. “Oh, hyung.”

“Hey, Hoseok-y. Y/n and I were just talking. I’ll leave you two to discuss y/n’s job. Because I think we’re all confused about it.” Seokjin took one of your paperclips and left.

Hoseok looked after him in confusion. “Did he ask if he could take that paperclip?”

“Um, no, but it’s just a paperclip. You read the report?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Good work on that. Sorry you were thrown into it so soon after starting.”

“You mean my first day.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Your first day. So, I’ve figured out what your story is going to be.”

“My story?”

“Whenever a higher-up is brought in, they’re presented to the company. There are already rumors about a higher-up being brought into Mr. Jung’s board, and it’s extremely unorthodox for us to not present you within the first two weeks. So, we’ve got a couple days leeway to get you settled into your actual job.”

“I’m pretty sure that was part of my actual job.”

“Right. Anyway, I thought we might tell people that you’re the eyes and ears of Mr. Jung, and that one of your jobs is ensuring that we are at top potential.”

“Ok.”

“Which is basically what we already said, but I want to make it clear that you are in direct communication with HR and all reports go to you at the end of the day. I’m just having trouble coming up with your title.”

“Quality manager?”

He paused. “Ok, you’re really good. How have you not worked in a job like this before?”

“Hard times, big sacrifices. So, if I’m understanding things correctly, you want me to look through the reports on behaviors and such and make sure they’re looked into and that we’re paying attention, but also you want me to check in on projects and make sure we’re asking all the right questions.”

“Exactly. Quality manager is an excellent way of describing that job. But also, your job is to keep people from trying to see Mr. Jung. Mr. Jung has enough on his plate.”

You nodded. “I can do that. Shall we practice? I read through the notes on that memory core device.”

He grinned. “Sounds great. But first, the morning meeting.”

You nodded. “Thank you for cleaning my office, by the way.”

He just smiled back. “I can’t stand messes.”

“I gathered. You’ve got a pretty big one downstairs, though.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of dreading firing people though.”

“Then let me handle it. You can be there as a known authoritative figure and I’ll do the talking.”

“They might get mad at you for spying.”

“Then I trust you to handle their subsequent anger appropriately. I’ll try to keep things professional.”

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Even offering to do any of this. I wasn’t really ready to take on the boss position. But I can’t sit by while people abuse their place in this company. I have to deal with the messes. My family didn’t build this legacy for me to let it fall apart.” His gaze was darker, but held determination to continue forward. A sternness to see things through.

The side of J-Hope that was the CEO of HopeWorld.

“I think once you get over the first trials you’ll be just fine.”

He looked at you in surprise. “You think?”

“I believe,” you amended. “I believe you are capable of being a great leader. I believe even though you are generous and compassionate, you will be able to handle the harder parts of this job for the good of the many employees who are doing their jobs to the best of their ability. Because that’s what it means when people are fired. The waste they accumulate is returned to the company and those that are still with it can benefit, or others who need the job take it and actually accomplish it. You’re improving efficiency, which makes the company prosper so you can do more for your employees.”

He slowly nodded. “That makes sense.”

You nodded. “Look at me: I could actually afford a new work outfit.”

He grinned, looking you over. “And it’s a great outfit.”

Okay. You hadn’t expected that.

“Are you implying something inappropriate?”

“Never. I just think it’s a very appropriate look and that it is very good at accentuating your good looks. You’re very good at shopping.”

You weren’t. Not really. Taehyung and Jimin had tagged along and helped you shop because you weren’t sure what would be best for the job and position. You had picked the items out, but Jimin and Taehyung had helped you style them together and decide on them.

“Sounds inappropriate to me.”

He chuckled. “Can’t you just take the compliment? It’s early.”

“If you compliment me, people might think that you’re showing favoritism.”

“Let them,” He answered easily, shrugging and holding the door open for you.

“Are you drunk again? I told you, you really shouldn’t drink.” You folded your arms.

He just laughed. “In. We’re late.”

“If we are, it’s your fault,” You replied, walking in and waving to the other men.

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t dream of blaming you. Morning, everyone.” Hoseok took his seat. “What’s the day look like?”

“Same as yesterday, except whatever you and y/n are up to. My project is almost ready to present, Seokjin’s coming to help me today.”

“I do have my nephew today, he’s having a bad day,” Seokjin said quietly, making notes.

“That’s fine,” Hoseok said firmly, Namjoon merely nodding. “People like seeing him, and we’ve always said that kids are welcome as long as they don’t disturb others.”

“And he can come to my office anytime,” Taehyung said with a fond grin.

Seokjin nodded. “I have a meeting with my division just before lunch?”

Taehyung grinned. “We can color!”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Work, Taehyung. He can color, you can design.”

“Right. Right. That.”

“I need Yoongi-hyung’s help on the memory-core project.”

Hoseok looked mildly intrigued, glancing at you.

“I can head down after I check on my project. Might be an hour or so.” Yoongi checked his watch.

Hoseok nodded. “And we’ll be there in about two hours so that Y/n can look things over as my second set of eyes.”

Jungkook looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “O-oh, o-o-okay.”

The others looked mildly surprised, but quickly moved on.

“I’ll be on phone meetings to organize that event most of the morning. Our employees really enjoyed the food truck war, and it’s summer, so I think it’s best to try and have enjoyable events as frequently as possible during the weeks we can’t give them 3-day weekends.” Jimin twirled his pen as he spoke, looking over something on his planner.

“I’ll leave it in your hands, just don’t go over budget.” Hoseok jotted a few things down. “Okay. Y/n and I have to deal with some unsatisfactory employees, then we’ll be down to see how things are going with the memory core. Not sure about our afternoon, but I might leave that for her to settle in. How does that sound to you?”

“If ‘settle in’ means looking over reports, then that sounds fine.”

He nodded, flipping his book closed. “Alright. Then off we go.”

You got up and followed him out, and into the elevator.

“It’ll be best to go to them since it would draw a lot of attention to bring them up. We need the head of janitorial service with us as well, and I want to apprise her of what’s going to happen before we do it. You were smart to record the conversation, I’ll present that to Chiseul.”

Chiseul had been in charge of sanitation at the company for eight years, she was kind, but firm and had no patience for slacking. When you’d worked under her, even for a day, you could tell she expected the best. She had put who she thought were her best people in charge of cleaning the top floor, but instead they had been doing very basic cleaning and actually stealing from the company.

Her reaction to finding out was silent fury. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fire them?”

“We believe that it’s best for us to handle it, that way others will know that they can’t pull anything. I’m sorry we deceived you,” You said respectfully, because you did respect her. You’d put in your report that she should get a raise.

Hoseok nodded. “We will be implementing a system to keep people accountable soon.”

She accepted that with a sharp nod and then went to call those who would be fired into her office.

Hoseok groaned as soon as the elevator doors closed. “That could have gone better.”

------

You held the ice to your face and shrugged. “Could have gone worse. Security stepped in at the appropriate time. And I didn’t fight back, which means I can’t be charged with assault should they try anything like that. There were also multiple witnesses.”

“But you got hurt,” He argued, rubbing his face. “You got hurt.”

“So, I’ll have a black eye. I walk to work, so it’s not like I’ll be driving while mildly impaired. We got ice on it pretty quickly, and I don’t think it will end up being too bad of a black eye.”

“You got hurt,” He whispered.

“And I’m fine. Hoseok, we’re on our way to look over a major project in your company. Pull yourself together.” You reached over and straightened his collar. “It’s a bruise, not a fatal wound.”

He caught your wrist, holding you in place so he could move the ice pack with his other hand and see, the whole time his expression holding worry and what might have been nausea. “Why would they attack you? I was there too. Why would they only attack you?”

He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t listening.

“Betrayal,” You answered anyway, sighing a little and forcing the ice-pack back to your face.

“Uh, you two coming out of there or do you need another moment?” Yoongi asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked between you, not seeming to care that he’d startled both of you since you’d been too busy looking at one another to realize the elevator was open. But his gaze stuck on the ice pack. “Shit, they hit you?”

“Don’t you start too,” You groaned, exiting the elevator.

Hoseok stopped you, pulling you back so he could look at your eye again. “Hyung, look at her eye.”

Yoongi frowned a bit more, but complied. His eyes widened a bit. “Uh…infirmary.”

“Thought so.” Hoseok pulled you back into the elevator.

“Oh, come on,” You groaned.

Yoongi just shushed you. “Your eye looks bloody.”

“Oh.” Well, that was special. It didn’t especially hurt, but that might be because you were numbing the area.

But Hoseok ended up taking you to the hospital for evaluation.

As the two of you walked out of the hospital, you sighed for the fortieth time. “Told you I was fine.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“He said that I should be fine and to come back in if my eye gets worse or I start having other issues. It was probably her ring that got me.” You glanced at your watch. “Man, I’m not going to experience a regular workday, am I?”

His head dropped. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. I’d probably get bored if it got too quiet. And feeling sorry doesn’t do any good. You didn’t hurt me, so you’re wasting energy by being sorry.”

“I know, but I got you into this job—“

“Are you thirsty?” You asked, stopping.

“What?”

“Are you thirsty?” You asked slowly.

“Um, I guess?”

You nodded and pulled him into the restaurant, dragging him to the bar.

“I don’t think you should have alcohol—“

“Hi, can I get a water with lemon and a Piña colada?” You asked the bartender, ignoring Hoseok. You had no intention of drinking, but Hoseok was so tense it was making you tense.

He stared at the piña colada. “What?”

“Drink. You’re driving me crazy. You need to relax and I doubt you’re going to do it on your own. I’ll make sure you don’t end up in a back alley.” You patted his hand.

“So…if you could drink, what would it be?” He asked.

“Probably a gimlet, with extra lime. But like I said, my preferred drink is water. I like to keep my head clear. There’s less golf-ball swallowing.”

He snorted and choked on his second sip of his drink.

You patted his back as he tried to recover from choking, and he was laughing in between coughing which wasn’t helping at all.

The bartender was looking concerned.

“His wife left him for his sister and his brother in law confessed his love to him, it’s a royal mess,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

Hoseok died a little more. “Stop,” He gasped, finally just laughing.

“It’s not my fault he thinks your butt is cute.”

He collapsed off of the stool, thudding to the ground and laughing harder.

“Man, two sips and you’re already drunk. You better not ask me if I like that nastiness again.”

He got up with your help, starting to calm down. “I won’t ask that.”

“Good. But seriously, I’m cutting you off. You’re too much of a lightweight.” You settled the bill with some extra for the bartender, then guided him toward the door.

But both of you stopped at the door.

“It’s raining?” Hoseok asked, still a little breathless.

“It would appear so.” You looked up at the sky.

“Do you like getting caught in the rain?” He asked quietly, holding out his hand.

You laughed softly, taking his hand. “I actually really do.”

“Really?” He smiled as he laced his fingers with yours.

“Really,” You confirmed, looking out at the rain with a little excitement.

“You might ruin your clothing.”

“Clothing washes, as do I.” You tugged and pulled him out into the rain, giggling as the rain started soaking into you.

He laughed as well, looking less comfortable in the rain, but like he was willing to let you lead him through it.

No.

Like he would follow you into anything.

“Why did you offer me the job?” You asked.

He met your gaze with surprise.

“Why me?”

He smiled at you, stepping closer so he could be heard. “I couldn’t say goodbye.”

You tilted your head.

“I couldn’t say goodbye to you, not at that time, and I don’t know why, but I’m trying to figure it out.”

You could work with that.

Hoseok touched your cheek, then moved in.

You knew your eyes were a little wide.

He gave a slight smile and then leaned in to kiss you.

You allowed it, and you didn’t regret it as his lips met yours. It was…new. Different. Right.

Except for one tiny detail.

You pushed him away gently. “Okay. But you need a new go-to drink because I forgot to mention I’m actually allergic to coconut, so, I’m gonna take some allergy meds now.”

His eyes widened. “I like mimosas and daiquiri.”

You nodded, swallowing an allergy pill. “Great. We won’t kill me, then.”

“How allergic are you?”

You shrugged. “I should be fine now.”

“Okay.”

“So, if you want to kiss me, we can do that again.”

He met your gaze, smiling. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

You rolled your eyes, then pulled him in. “Kiss me.”

He grinned. “Man, I love your honesty.”

And in the rain, you kissed your piña colada man, ignoring what might happen in your future.

“Might not be a permanent job, my judgement might be clouded. I might show favoritism.”

“Then call me a consultant pending permanent employment and depending where this takes us we’ll…let the others decide my fate.”

“Works for me. Let me walk you home. Where do you live?”

You gestured vaguely. “That way. About fifteen minutes from your building. Work. Place.”

“When you said you were a virgin—”

“I never said I was a—walk. We’re getting soaked standing here like idiots and I hear thunder.” You started walking, keeping hold of his hand. “That or I start reevaluating what parts you really need.”

He laughed. “You know what’s funny?”

“No.”

“When you’re actually being honest, your hands relax, and when you’re bluffing, they get all tense.”

Huh.

“What is your biggest concern with the memory core?”

You considered it for a moment. “It could just be a matter of wording.”

“That’s still important.”

“The proposal suggests imprinting all of the memories of the player onto the memory core so that full immersion is more stimulating.”

“Right.”

“But it’s wording makes it sound like the game is replacing their memories. Imagine someone overwrites the data: what happens when the player tries to re-immerse themselves?”

He was quiet for a while. “That…could be….”

“Disastrous. This machine is supposed to work with your brain, but corrupted files could shut the brain down or damage it. It is incredibly dangerous if I’m understanding it correctly.”

“It could hurt people. We have to tick every box. And come up with fail safes.”

“To me, it’s not worth the risk. But that’s why I wanted to talk to them, to make sure I was understanding things.” You gestured to a building. “This is me.”

He nodded, only following when you tugged on his hand. “Are you sure you want me—”

“We’re soaked and the wind is picking up, and—” lightning flashed through the sky, “the storm is getting worse. We’ll call you a cab or something.”

“Right. Inside. Good idea.”

You ditched your shoes the moment you got in, rushing to the bathroom to grab towels so the two of you didn’t drip all over everything. “It’s a bit hot in here, sorry, my AC broke.”

“Just means we’re not going to get chilled,” He answered, taking the towel and looking around. “It’s nice.”

You glanced around as well. You’d opted for minimalism since that was the only way to make the place not feel claustrophobic. “It does the job.”

“So, you’re allergic to coconut?”

“Mostly the consumption, but I do have mild reactions externally as well.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Coconut hair treatment with my friend when I was fifteen. They had to cut my hair off because my scalp blistered and broke out and it was…traumatizing. But that was because it was coconut oil right against my skin for over an hour, undiluted. My daily allergy meds help if I happen to use, I don’t know, soap with coconut in it.” You put the kettle on the stove since you were feeling kind of chilled. “Tea?”

“Sure.” He started examining the photos on your wall (all three of them). “So, if I hadn’t been the last straw for that job, where do you think you’d be right now?”

“Dumping a scotch-neat on my boss’s head, if not down his pants, after quitting and looking for a job with less drunk people. My boss was drunk, my coworkers were drunk, everyone was drunk, except me. Do you know how surreal that feels?”

“And yet you accepted a job from me, someone who was drunk?”

“So you admit it,” You pointed out.

He rubbed his neck. “I usually only drink in the evenings, it generally makes me sleepy.”

“You had caffeine with your alcohol, then.”

“Accidentally.”

“That would explain the whole ‘why is the rum always gone’ debacle.”

He was very red looking in profile, but that could have been the lighting. “Yeah. I was embarrassed as I did it and yet I didn’t stop. Stupid.”

“If I hadn’t been having a terrible night, I probably would have enjoyed the reference, honestly. But, as you put it, you were the last straw. I would probably be applying to fast food right about now if it hadn’t been you.” You watched him studying your photos far longer than they were worth studying. “Are my photos that interesting?”

“These three were the ones you consciously decided to display, which means they mean something to you.”

You thought about that for a moment, thinking about all of the photos of families that the people you’d worked under while spying had shown you. Always the kids, always the wife, always the beloved pet.

But Hoseok had no photos in his office.

“You don’t keep any photos visible in your office, and office photos are, arguably, the ones that provide the most insight into people,” You countered, sitting on the floor with the tray of tea on the coffee table.

He joined you on the floor. “It’s a precaution. I keep the photos in J-Hope’s desk, the locked drawer. I’m surprised you noticed, though.”

“I wouldn’t have, but people kept shoving their photos in my face and if they weren’t, then I was redirecting their attention to their photos so I would get away with my snooping. People like to talk about themselves.”

He was watching you, a soft smile on his face. “You really are something else.”

You shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you there.”

“We could hide it, you know. Us, whatever we are?”

“Professional flirtation,” You guessed, holding the mug and surprised at how cold your fingers had been. “Workday dalliance?”

“Wow, um, anyway, we could just not tell anyone about us.”

“9 to 5 lovers,” You quipped, trying to come up with more.

“Are you purposefully ignoring me?”

“Ye-es,” You dragged out, trying to think of another thing to call it.

“You don’t think we could?”

“I think the boys would figure it out before the morning meeting ended.”

“Oh, right, I didn’t mean from the boys.”

“Oh, ok, please continue.” You leaned on your hand and watched him.

“We stay away from anything unprofessional at work, with the exception of in private, and we make sure no one catches on. Then, when I officially take my position...we reevaluate where we are and adjust accordingly.”

“Officially take your position?”

“Technically, I’m not yet the CEO, my father is, but I’ve been acting CEO for about three years.”

He didn’t add that they had been the most prosperous three years of the company’s history, but maybe he was trying to stay humble.

“So, once he’s better and we finish a few things, he’ll hand over things to me officially. In front of the company.”

“Revealing that J-Hope is actually his son and everyone’s boss.”

He nodded. “Which would also be revealing that you have been working for me.”

“All of which could be potentially disastrous.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I bet you’d say I should have been open about it the whole time.”

“Not at all. I think this was the best course of action. Everyone respects J-Hope, they like him. They like his work ethic, they like how he listens, and they like how he cares. They like how bright and cheerful he is. They don’t know if they can trust their CEO, but they know that the board has been taking care of them and the CEO has been allowing it. They’re curious, and a little apprehensive.” You remembered all of the conversations you’d had over the week.

But one stuck out to you.

You’d been getting coffee with one of the employees in the marketing department, discussing the company and it’s leadership.

“I don’t know about the CEO. Or, well,” She flustered for a second. “I don’t know why he feels the need to hide from us. His father never did, but maybe there’s a plan. Every now and then, they have someone who sort of...scopes things out. They had me in project development for a couple of weeks so that I could tell them what I thought of the person that was testing the projects. That person was Mr. Jeon.”

You’d tilted your head, confused.

“Jeon Jungkook, he’s one of the board members, the youngest board member. He’s really good at catching on, which makes him a prime test subject for things that are about to be released. We can’t bring people in, not often, because information tends to get leaked. He’s been a godsend to the company. Mr. Jung found him, too, he’s found just about every top employee, and all of the board members--except J-Hope. He worked his way up through the company, and then impressed Mr. Jung Sr. and was given a job on the board. He looks after employee welfare and we’ve had an amazing increase in our benefits program ever since. It’s a shame Mr. Jung Jr. didn’t start out like J-Hope.”

“What’s that look for?”

You jumped a bit, refocusing on him. “All of the things that J-Hope has done are your accomplishments. You’ve improved the benefits program, upgraded the retirement package, made sure that everyone has received pay increases, and you worked your way up through the company. Your intellect lies in people, and your devotion to your job as their employer has inspired loyalty to you. I’m not saying you should go out tomorrow and reveal that you’re Mr. Jung Jr.”

“Do they really call me that?” He cringed.

“But you shouldn’t fear...telling them who you are. Yes, it could cause problems, but only momentarily. Until then, you want me to help you deal with trash and question everything so that the ship is running tightly when the official transfer happens. Right?” You asked, sitting up straight. “That way if anything happens with stocks, or the market, the company is running smoothly and will stay afloat.”

“You have a business degree, don’t you?”

“I never graduated,” You corrected easily. “But I did study some business, yes. This is what you want from me, correct?”

“Yes. I need you to tell me to suck it up when I hesitate.”

“Okay. Did you read my report on the other departments?”

He nodded slowly.

“Then I suggest you decide what should be done to those employees, and what you’re actually willing to do. Because I outlined my suggestions for each of them, but ultimately, it is up to you. You want to run a tight ship, you need to get rid of excess crew, which sounds terrible, but it’s true. If they’re not doing their job, they have no reason to be on deck. And some of them were on the wrong decks.”

He nodded. “I’ll review it once more, but we’ll probably go with your suggested actions.”

“Okay. Glad we understand each other.” You grabbed your phone, checking it. “Taehyung wants to know if I’m alive, and if I’m alive, is Hoseok alive as well.”

“Crap,” He went into his pocket. “Oh. They just wanted to go drinking. Taehyung is our usual designated driver. He’s not a big drinker like Jungkook and Jimin. I’m going to ask him to swing by and pick me up. If that’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know how you felt about where you lived. You’re kind of hard to read.”

“I live here, I pay the rent, it’s small, but it’s mine. Or were you referring more to a bunch of men knowing where I, a single woman, lived?”

“The latter.”

“Ah, sweet of you to be concerned, but Jimin’s already seen my place.”

“He has?” Hoseok frowned.

“He dropped me off after we went shopping. None of the stores had bathrooms. Nature called.” You shrugged.

“I don’t like that,” Hoseok muttered, obviously more to himself.

“You don’t like that he had to use the bathroom? Or that we went shopping together? Because, technically, he was the only board member I was allowed to be seen with as one of his employment experiments.” You pointed out, waiting for him to pull himself together and continue texting Taehyung. “Also, you might want to text him before it’s too late.”

“That he saw your house.”

“Interesting. Text Taehyung,” You instructed carefully. “Before you have to pay for a cab.”

He did, but he was frowning the whole time.

You rolled your eyes. “Jimin was here for all of five minutes. I doubt he could even tell you what color the walls in the bathroom are.”

“Color,” He muttered, getting up and heading to the small hall.

“Um….”

“Purple. Walls are purple. Take that.”

“Oh my god, there is no way you’re even buzzed, why are you acting weird?”

“Purple. Blue. White. Three pictures.”

You rolled your eyes, and shook your head. “Weirdo. I mean, I knew that, only weird people like pina coladas--”

He caught you and kissed you again. “Don’t let Jimin in. He’s a minx. He’s a fox. That magic trickster fox that seduces you. A succubus.”

“Incubus,” you corrected. “Which is a sort of demon. Magical fox thing is a kitsune. You’re mixing your mythologies.”

“You’re so smart,” He said, but he said it in a sort of happy, sighing way while looking at you so softly and gently and adoringly….

You believed him.

He touched your cheek, then quickly pulled his hands away. “Alright. How about a rule?”

“Depends on the rule,” You replied.

“You have good judgement, and self control,” His gaze shifted to your eye, and his fingers brushed the edge of the bruising with a feather-light touch, “So, I want there to be a rule that at work, any...personal things between us are initiated by you. Which means you can shut me down at any time, anyway you feel necessary.”

“You mean, like asking you about your ex?”

“Ouch,” He muttered, looking down. “Yeah. Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Am I replacing your ex?”

He shook his head. “Not even remotely.”

“I’m in their office.”

He looked up, then shook his head. “No, you’re in my mom’s old office. Yesuel never worked at HopeWorld. Too much of a free-spirit.”

“But you loved them all the same.”

“I did. I thought I did. Love is...tricky.”

“Are you ready for another significant other?” You asked.

He met your gaze, holding it. “Do you like getting lost in the rain?”

You smiled. “You know I do.”

“Then you know I am,” He replied easily, fingers resting under your chin. “Are you going to be okay, with your eye like that? They did say it could get worse, and if it does….”

“Are you asking if you can stay? Because you’d have to borrow clothing, or live in a blanket until your clothing is dry. I don’t have much that would fit you.”

“I’m worried about you. I’ll stay on the couch.” He touched a strand of your still-damp hair. “Eye injuries are dangerous.”

“Didn’t you already tell Taehyung to come pick you up?”

He shook his head. “I was just going to walk down to work and get my car and pretend that Taehyung picked me up.”

You hit him lightly. “And if you got struck by lightning?”

“My company would be in good hands,” He answered, shrugging slightly. “But I would miss out on a few things. But you can get hit by lightning and live.”

“Not well,” You argued, frowning.

He gently ran a thumb over your eyebrow, as though to ease away your frown. “Besides, I was already struck by you. I don’t think anything could knock me off my feet like that, I don’t think anything ever has. You’re new and unique. And I want to know everything I can about you. Even if you don’t like pina coladas. Even if you are a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re addicted to it,” He replied easily, smirking at you.

And yes.

You were.

It was crazy, but you were completely addicted to the banter with him, the way he smiled while you were grumbling, the way he asked what you thought of things and actually listened. You liked his gentleness and compassion.

He brought hope back to your world.

“I agree to your rule,” You whispered.

Hoseok grinned and kissed you.

Your future was going to be crazy...but maybe the consistency of his smile was enough to get you through.

#btswritingbingo #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #reader x jhope #reader x bts #bts fic #jung hoseok #jhope #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #yoongi #namjoon #business au #ceo!hoseok #ceo!jhope #one-shot

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teawaffles · 4 years ago

Text

It Happened One Night: Chapter 2

The country house Mycroft had introduced them to was a little smaller than the nobles’ mansions they’d been to thus far, but it was an elegant villa, one which exuded a sense of history.

Its exterior was built in the Gothic style, with stone foundations. Planted in the vast gardens was a sea of flora in exquisite colour schemes, delighting the eye of any onlooker. [1]

Of course, the interior didn’t disappoint either: it was richly decorated, with intricately crafted furniture in every room; and hanging from the walls were portraits of the mansion’s owners, as well as landscapes painted by renowned artists. As Sherlock and company were here as guests, they were restricted in the number of rooms allowed for use, but the sheer number of luxury items that greeted them was still far greater than what any ordinary person could ever hope to obtain.

Their lives had literally been turned around.

Turned around…… and yet.

“——Booored……”

In the room he had picked himself, Sherlock looked out the window, gazing at the tranquil garden flooded with gentle sunlight.

It had been three days since they’d moved in, and Sherlock had already grown weary of this lavish lifestyle.

He only took care of the plants in the garden insomuch that they wouldn’t wither, but otherwise he had no interest in the flowers themselves. Moreover, he had already tired of gazing upon the decorations and furniture and paintings in the house. The underground wine cellar aroused some interest, but as an invited guest, helping himself to the liquor as he pleased was evidently a breach of etiquette.

In the end, there wasn’t much to do in this mansion.

As John had suggested, requests from clients were reaching him by mail in the meantime, but they had all been simple cases, solvable just by reading the letters. Couldn’t one difficult case come in sometime? Sherlock sighed heavily as he wrote down the solutions in his replies.

His boredom was plain as day. John, who was seated across him, spoke up in a soft voice.

“Sherlock. We just got tangled up in a big incident a while back, so isn’t it a good thing to take a break for once?”

“Y’know, John, just one day of rest is enough for me. If I don’t get the right level of stimulation, my brain will get all mouldy.”

“What an absurd……”

Just then, the door opened.

“Sherlock, John-kun, I’ve made some tea.”

Miss Hudson walked in bearing a silver tray. On top of it were some nicely baked biscuits, and black tea in teacups with simple designs. As they’d been given permission to use the kitchens, she had been devoting her spare time to baking.

“Thank you, Miss Hudson.”

“Thanks—”

The two of them each took a biscuit from the tray on the table, and munched on it.

“How is it? I’m quite proud of them myself,” she asked.

John nodded in satisfaction.

“It’s very delicious. Right, Sherlock?”

“Oh, it’s good, yeah,” he replied, deadpan.

Miss Hudson shook her head sadly.

“……Well now. If you’re this bored, why don’t you head down to one of the nearby villages? Seeing as there’s such fine weather too.”

Sherlock sent his gaze out the window yet again.

“That’s true……. And if an interesting case pops up, it would be just my luck.”

“Don’t say something so troubling — we’ve worked hard for this peace and quiet.”

John was familiar with Sherlock’s character, but this level of addiction to his work was nothing short of astounding. Miss Hudson, clearly worried by the detective’s words, placed a hand on John’s shoulder.

“John-kun, with Sherlock in this state, I’m worried he’ll get up to no good. Just in case, could you tag along with him?”

“Certainly; leave it to me. It’ll also be a perfect opportunity to get some exercise.”

“What’re you both taking me for……?” Sherlock grumbled — he’d been half-joking, and was surprised to find his words being taken seriously.

Then, with Miss Hudson taking care of the house, the two men set off.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

The Cotswolds was a region 200 kilometres west of London, renowned for its rustic charm, with its rolling hills carpeted in verdant grass.

From where they were, they could see flocks of white sheep and tiny villages dotting the vast green landscape. The village buildings were constructed from limestone: in the northeast of the Cotswolds, it was the colour of honey; in the central region, it was golden-yellow; in the southwest, it turned white instead.

Walking along a path which cut through some pastures, Sherlock and John arrived at the village nearest to the mansion.

A small stream meandered through the village, and built along it was a series of stone houses. It looked right out of a picture book.

Their hearts healed by the idyllic scene before them, the two men headed to the centre of the village, in a bid to find some boredom-busting information. There, they found a two-storey inn. When he noticed that a section of the first floor had been converted into a pub, Sherlock broke into a grin.

“Oi, John. Let’s have a pint to pass the time.”

John shot him a dubious look.

“Sherlock. Drinking during the day isn’t something I approve of.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a vacation anyway — why not let loose for a bit?”

“And who was it who said he’d had enough of resting just now……?”

This was a fine example of what it meant to do an about-turn.

But it wasn’t the first time Sherlock had done something on a whim. John reluctantly followed him into the inn.

As expected for a country pub in the daytime, there were only a handful of customers seated quietly inside — it was nothing like the bustle of the city. At the counter was a tall man, who looked like he was running the business alone.

The two men sat at the bar. Sherlock ordered beer, while John chose some light snacks. As their orders were served up, Sherlock took a swig, then directed a question to the owner.

“Hey. Isn’t there anything interesting going on around here?”

At this vague question, the pub owner rubbed his chin.

“Anything interesting, huh. Well there is, but it’s a family matter. Are you two tourists?”

John spoke up. “No, it’s complicated…… For various reasons, we’re staying in the residence of a nearby landowner for the time being.”

“Hmm, so you’re a close friend of this noble?”

“That’s not it either…… This man here is the detective Sherlock Holmes, and I’m his assistant.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of you. So you’re that Holmes. Must’ve been tough comin’ all the way out here.”

It seemed he had little interest in celebrities: hearing Sherlock’s name didn’t stir up much of a reaction.

Sherlock stared into his beer glass.

“By the way, you said something just now about a ‘family matter’?”

It seemed he had remembered what the owner said earlier, about there being something interesting. Then, the owner’s voice turned slightly cheery.

“Actually, my daughter’s in London now, and she’s getting married. She’s bringing her fiancé here the evening after tomorrow. I’ve met him just once before, but he’s a solid chap. I was kinda worried she’d get on with some weird fellow, so I’m relieved.”

“Congratulations — you must be proud.”

At John’s words, the owner rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Thanks. I’m also planning a wedding celebration that night, with some friends from the nearby villages.”

Sherlock hummed in reply. It wasn’t clear if he was interested or not.

“But the second floor is used as an inn, right? Wouldn’t the noise invite complaints?”

“Not to worry: there’s only one person staying upstairs now, and I’ve already gotten his agreement. Anyway, it’s pretty rare for outsiders to come to a small village like this. I still run the inn for formality’s sake, but most of my income comes from this pub.”

“But there is one person here.”

“Yeah, a guy who just arrived a while ago. It seems he’s an obscure painter; he said he wanted a quiet place to concentrate on his art and stimulate his creativity, so he’s rented a room for around ten days.”

That number startled John.

“That’s quite a long stay.”

“The rooms are all empty anyway, so I don’t mind at all. Also, instead of an atelier, well…… can you see it from here?”

The owner pointed at something beyond the window. A little ways from the inn, at the end of a patch of exposed, blackened earth, stood a small shed.

When the two men caught sight of the shed and nodded, the pub owner continued.

“It was originally a stable, but got remodelled into a storage shed. This guy said it was easy to concentrate there, so he moved lots of bulky luggage into the shed via carriage, and now he spends most of his day cooped up inside.”

“Something seems off. What happened to his original belongings?”

“There weren’t many to begin with, so now they’ve been moved to an empty room on the second floor. The others in the village don’t really like him, but he pays his bills on time, so I’ve nothing to say to that. And there weren’t many things in the shed in the first place, so he’s not causing me any trouble.”

Just as the owner finished speaking, the shed door opened, and they saw a man walk out alone.

Sherlock spoke up.

“Is, that the artist?”

“Yeah, his name is Rheos. I think he’s from around France.” [2]

Rheos was a pale, lanky young man dressed in awfully shabby clothes: he truly looked like an artist detached from reality. His shoulder-length hair hid most of his features, but his quick steps revealed the strength in his legs. He was carrying a large, dirty case under his arm.

“…………”

Sherlock stared with inscrutable eyes as he tried to figure out where Rheos was going, but quickly turned back to the barkeep.

“So, is he using this place as a base, and travelling around the area to paint landscapes?”

The owner shook his head.

“I thought so too at first, but apparently he practises by referencing works from famous artists.”

“Hmm, you said earlier that he always coops himself up in that shed. I thought he’d go out during the day if he’s painting scenery.”

“He’s an odd one, that’s for sure. But anyway, I’m the one who took him in, and he hasn’t caused any problems so far. I say it’s up to him where and how he wants to paint. ——By the way, Mr Detective—”

He leaned over to Sherlock a little.

“What is it?”

“From your detective work, I’m sure you’ve seen many strange cases, now haven’t you? If you’re willing, why not tell us about one or two at the dinner party?”

The owner broke into a wide grin, but on the contrary, Sherlock’s face twitched. To be honest, it was simply awkward to attend a complete stranger’s wedding party. Hence he decided to gently turn down the offer.

“……Umm, thank you for the invitation, but——”

“——Hmm? How about it? It’s my precious daughter’s wedding, y’know. I’ll do anything to make things even a little more exciting.”

However, contrary to his expectations, the pub owner seemed adamant that Sherlock regale the guests with stories from his detective work. The strength of his insistence had flustered Sherlock for a moment, but eventually, he clapped his partner’s shoulder beside him.

“In that case, John here can go. After all, he’s witnessed many of the strange things I’ve encountered up close.”

“Huh? What’re you saying, Sherlock!?”

Realising that he was being offered up instead, John panicked. As much as he wanted to congratulate the happy couple on their marriage, he didn’t want to be sent out to speak before a whole bunch of strangers.

“You’re always complaining about this and that — only now do you appreciate me? It’s not fair!”

“No need to be humble. I can personally guarantee your ability as a storyteller.”

“No, hold on just a——”

“——Oh, so you’ll be speaking in place of him, eh?”

Unfortunately for John, the owner had now set his sights on him.

“U-Uh, I……”

John put both hands before him in an effort to convey that he wouldn’t be joining the party, but in the face of the pub owner’s blinding smile, he realised all resistance would only be futile.

“Alright. I shall attend……”

“Thank you. As a further token of my thanks, have some slightly more expensive beer on the house.”

Now in a great mood, the owner took two bottles of beer from the shelves behind him.

Having been forced into speaking in public about their cases — a fine mess indeed — John was downright depressed. Sherlock patted him on the shoulder.

“Sorry. If I were to talk instead, it would just sound like I’m bragging. Do you want to get some practice in while you can?” suggested Sherlock, with a half-smile.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

John shot him a reproachful glare.

Footnotes:

[1] To give you a sense of how the house might look like, here are some examples of Victorian Gothic houses: The Guardian

[2] Rheos (pronounced ray-oh-s) is honestly my best guess at his name… (In the book it’s written as レオス). Rheos is also a real name!

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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basicjetsetter · 4 years ago

Text

The Fall of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Heavy Suspense, Language, Adult Themes, Violence, Gambling, Drinking

♢ Word Count: 6.5k

☆ A/N: No joke, this took me about two years to conceptualize. Two freaking years. But I can 100% say it was worth it to write every word. This is by far one of my most creative works and I love that I get to finally share it with you all. Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading!

You couldn’t help but notice and admire how pretty the sky appeared when it was tinged in the auroral haze of an autumn morning and backdropped by the twinkling glass panes of New York’s notorious skyscrapers. Though autumn’s end isn’t for a couple of weeks, the lukewarm season allowed Manhattan a preview of winter’s frigid air. The city's constant roar hummed down to a distant lullaby as you walked up the steps and in through the doors of the Metropolitan Detention Center.

It’s an impressively modern building, one you’ve become intimately familiar with in the past couple of years. Everything inside screams order, from the plain white, bleach-scented linoleum floors to the rows upon rows of caged boxes containing a range of one-time offenders, serial criminals, and constant jailbirds. The first time you ever entered the establishment, it struck you just how much the atmosphere felt devoid and depraved, almost as if hope and happiness got stopped, frisked, and turned away at the door. You never liked staying more than necessary.

None of the four guards stationed along the main lobby walls paid you any attention as you marched up to the reception desk. Their inattention didn’t spawn out of contempt but out of fear. They knew who you were here for.

The receptionist, on the other hand, wouldn’t care if the Queen of England herself hop-scotched through the front entrance, bowed, and bestowed him the coveted Royal Crown on a jewel-encrusted platter.

He certainly never took an interest in your frequent visits. The first time you set foot into this building, a bright-eyed attorney anxious to speak with her first client, the oaf of a man merely grunted at your carefully constructed introductions and waved you off like a pesky fly. On a typical day, your exchange of words consisted of him curtly asking you to state your business while he half-listened to your response and stabbed at his keyboard with blunt fingers. Detaching his gaze from the monitor might have required exhaustion of his half-assed energy.

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

Most of your ordinary clients got shipped to this facility and locked up with the rest of the inmates until you picked up their case. Unlike this particular client you planned on springing today, those other men lacked the say-so to determine their cell. None of them came close to his status. They didn’t have the power nor the money to hire a personal attorney, and none of their crimes could ever match those of the calculated, cunning man who controlled all New York's avenues and boulevards.

In the streets, he’s known as Deus. Depending on how close you are in his circle, he's either Parker or Pete. The name in the system is Peter Benjamin Parker. Your fiancé.

| Last Evening |

“Stop fidgeting with your collar, Peter.”

“This fucking bowtie keeps… shit… it keeps choking me.” He growled out his frustration. “I’m going to fire that damn stylist.”

You threw him an exasperated glare as he ripped off the accessory. “Maybe if you hadn’t told him to pick any old bowtie, you wouldn’t be whining so much.”

“Remind me again why you're forcing me to wear this, anyway?” He paused for effect, placing his hand under his chin like Rodin’s The Thinker, and then snapped his fingers in dramatic realization. “Oh, right! Because Stark is a pretentious asshole, who thinks tuxedos are mandatory at all events thrown in his honor.”

Peter may hate the idea of wearing a formal tuxedo for the whole night, but you were going to enjoy every last minute of him in that attire, mainly because he resembles a model who stepped right off the page of a GQ cover. The low-lighting in this limousine certainly did its best to heighten your mood, highlighting the sharp angles of Peter’s clenched jaw. You’d have to remember to send Pepper a Thank You basket for planning the event as Black Tie.

“Can you at least pretend to get along with Tony tonight?” To see if his jaw could tighten any further, you coyly add, “He is the new Governor of New York, after all.”

Mission accomplished. Peter leaned his head back against the headrest and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, the light that glinted off of his platinum Rolex creating a scattered array of lights against the black leather seats. You pried your eyes off the extension of his neck as he spoke. “Great,” he huffed. “That’s exactly what I need right now. A gloating Stark who’s now legally duty-bound to hound my ass. One more thing to think about.”

As the limo pulled up to a slow halt in front of the Plaza Hotel, you grabbed one of Peter’s hands and held it until his eyes met yours. You gave him a reassuring smile and said, “Everything’s going to be alright, baby.”

The driver opened the door before Peter could speak and held out his gloved hand for you. You’ve been to the Plaza Hotel on many occasions, mostly business, and yet the sight of the château-styled building at night, with its myriad of lit windows and its luxurious lobby never ceased to leave you breathless. The view effectually took your gaze away from Peter’s tux, but not for long. The moment he stepped out of the limo, bathed in the golden light of the building, you felt transfixed all over again.

Peter discreetly tipped the driver and then turned to face you, clearly not as impressed with the Plaza Hotel as you were. He placed his warm hands on the swells of your hips and pulled you in front of him. His eyes appraised you, from your stiletto heels to your tight-fitted, off the shoulder evening dress, traveling up to your chunky Senegalese twists elegantly laid over your shoulder. He let out a low whistle and said, “If looks could kill…”

You straightened his collar and opened up the top button of his gingham dress shirt for both your sakes, then swiftly leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “You’re not too shabby yourself, Mr. Parker.”

He wolfishly grinned as you quickly detached yourself from his borderline caressing hold. You knew he’d want more than a short kiss, but you couldn’t afford to get sidetracked tonight.

“Behave,” you chided.

“And if I don’t, future Mrs. Parker?” he prodded, a huskiness in his tone that sent a delicious shiver through you. His steps slowly brought him closer and closer to where you stood, and you weren’t sure if you’d have the will power to move away again. One proper kiss wouldn’t hurt…

A disembodied voice groaned in your ear. “Book a room!”

Peter chuckled unabashedly. “Sorry, Ned.” Though he tried to appear unaffected, Peter made an effort to clear his throat and tugged at his collar. “You ready on your end?”

“Yeah. Mic’s clear. Computer’s up and running. I’m all set. Can’t say the same for you two.”

You glance accusingly at Peter, who waggled his eyebrows at you. “We’re ready. Sorry about that. You know how Peter gets when I wear twists.”

Ned verbally shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I still refuse to sit on my couch, by the way, even after washing it four times! You owe me a new couch, dude. For my trauma.”

Peter half-heartedly grinned at the ground and said, “Dude, if we pull this off, I’ll buy you a whole new furniture set.” The one half of his grin faded away, replaced with a grim line of determination and sobriety. “Where’s he at?”

A few clicks rang through your ear-piece, then Ned replied, “Not far. About twenty minutes away, on Queens Boulevard in Elmhurst. Might be a while before he reaches the Plaza, though. There’s a jam on the bridge.”

“Cool, thanks. Keep us updated.” Peter didn’t want you to catch his expression, but you didn’t need to directly see it to realize he’s in business mode, cold and calculated, little to no warmth or playfulness left in his brown eyes.

Copying your move, he took your hand and held it until you both stared at each other. Briefly, with your eyes locked in place, he searched for any sliver of doubt, giving you one last option to ditch and save face while he executes the plan solo. You did not doubt that he and Ned could somehow pull it off without so much as a hiccup. Odds always work in Peter’s favor. For the past three years that you’ve known him, he’s never lost a gamble. Tonight, though, the gamble must include you, a new piece to his complicated game—a variable. If anything were to head south, the last thing Peter would want is to implicate you.

You understood the risks: the potential loss of your career, your squeaky clean record, and possibly your life. You wouldn’t be here, with him of all people, if you didn’t trust the plan. So you didn’t sway, letting your eyes confirm where you stood on the matter. I’m sticking with you. This exchange passed in absolute silence, ending with a small nod and a lingering kiss to your palm.

It’s always surprising to see Peter without a trace of humor or good-nature in his eyes. It took you a while to acclimate to his night and day demeanor and even longer to trust which emotions were real and which served a purpose. As he slides a cocky smile back onto his face, one that graces every part of his features, and holds out his arm for you, you knew. He’s in his element.

The game’s begun.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

Not even five seconds into the Terrace Room and your jaw hit the floor. Pepper sure knows how to out-do herself.

The room displayed the same historic French charm as the outside façade, but much more grand, decorated with multiple crystalline chandeliers, large stone semicircular archways, and classical art adorning the ceilings. Somehow, Pepper’s touch of cream-colored table cloths, bouquets of immaculate white peonies, golden napkins, and floating candle holders added the perfect ambiance for Tony’s celebration.

True to his fashion.

The Man of the Hour is currently giving his speech at the head table as the Maître D’ checks your reservation and prompts a server to escort you and Peter to your table. It’s located not too far away from Tony's, near a stone wall and a divider separating the other tables. You weren’t entirely familiar with the three people who were already seated, but they graciously offered quiet nods of welcome. Peter grabbed your chair for you and smoothly pushed you in before taking his seat next to you while you strained to catch the last bits of Tony’s speech.

“… and I can truly say that without you, my amazing colleagues, friends, and organizers present tonight, this win would not have been possible. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And um, yeah. Thank you, all.” Tony lifted his champagne flute into the air with a flourish and a winning grin. Peter rolled his eyes. “Here’s to an awesome four years as New York’s new Governor.”

Everyone stood up to give him a round of applause, Peter’s claps more grudging than encouraging, but you were glad he put in some effort. When he looked your way, you flashed him a loving smile and mouthed Thank you. He rolled his eyes again, playfully this time, and quirked his mouth up in an amused grin.

Live music picked up as soon as Tony took his seat, soft jazz that blended well with the onslaught of muffled chatter and clinks of silverware against glass plates. Servers incrementally brought out the main course of roasted beef filet dressed in tomato tarragon sauce and a side of arugula salad. Peter stifled a chuckle as he heard your stomach growl when a server placed the plate of food in front of you.

As another server leaned in to pour you a glass of wine, you held out a hand and gave him a polite smile. “No, thank you. May I just have some water, please?”

The young man nodded, but Peter piped up before he could head off. “Got anything stronger back there? Bacardi? Whiskey? Rum?”

“We have Vodka, sir,” the server stuttered out.

“Excellent. I’ll take a whole bottle of that,” Peter grinned and pressed a couple of $100 bills into the man’s palm. Peter’s effect on people never got tiring to witness. He and the server appear to be around the same age, somewhere near the 25-year mark, yet Peter's vibe reduced the server to stutters. You’d say the tux assisted with his air of importance, but you’ve seen Peter have that same effect on businessmen while wearing a shirt that read “I lost an electron. Are you positive?” and plaid pajama bottoms.

The server vigorously nodded. “Right away, sir.”

“Don’t drink too much,” you cautioned in a tone low enough for only Peter’s ears. “You know how you get, and I don’t want Tony to have an excuse to place cuffs on you.”

Peter scoffed and mumbled around a bite of salad, “If I looked at him wrong, Tony would cuff me.”

“Now that’s a little presumptuous, ain’t it, Petey?”

You jumped up from your seat and wrapped Tony up in a hug he warmly returned. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Governor Stark.”

Tony waved a hand, yet a big smile remained plastered on his face. “Ah, come on. It was bound to happen. Policy is the new name of the game, but I’ll sure miss that courtroom. You missy, on the other hand, deserve all the praise in the world. Best and youngest attorney in the whole state. Mentored by yours truly.” He trailed off, glancing in Peter’s general direction. “Though I question why you waste your talents on the likes of him.”

Now sitting ramrod straight in his chair, Peter slanted his eyes toward yours as you silently pleaded with him to be cordial. Once he brought his eyes back to Tony, he jerked up his chin in recognition. “Stark.”

Tony nodded at Peter. “Baby-faced Criminal.”

“Hey, now!” Pepper swooped in, pulling Tony back a little so she could see you better. “Just look at you! Always a beauty in everything you wear,” she gushed, then put on a stern face for Tony and Peter. “No roughhousing, tonight, boys. I mean it.”

“I was just making a valid critique on my star pupil's decision to become the Personal Attorney to a well-known arms dealer, is all,” Tony defended. He threw up his hands and drew up an innocent expression that might have worked had it not looked so derisive.

Pepper, pursing her lips, nodded sagely. “Right. Okay. So you were being an ass?”

“Pep!” Tony protested incredulously. Peter didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smirk.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. Oil and water can never mix, no matter how hard you try. No, Tony did not take the news of you becoming Peter’s PA well, and he’s made sure to rake you over the coals bout it every time the chance arises. You’ve been Peter’s attorney coming up on two years, and there’s not a sign from either of them that the grudge will ever be let go, not even for your sake, though they do try when threatened.

“I want you two to say something nice to each other and then let the rest of the night go on in peace. Go ahead,” Pepper ordered, indicating for Tony to go first.

Tony took in an excessive amount of air, then puffed it out. “Alright, Parker. Um… I like how you ostensibly don’t know the rules to a Black Tie Event.” He ended with a gesture to Peter’s lack of a bowtie. The poor thing lies in a mangled heap on the floor of the limousine.

Peter ticked up his eyebrow. “I like how the stick up your ass seems to reach new heights every time we speak, Stark.”

Pepper sighed and grabbed Tony’s arm. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’ll take what I can get. Come on, you. There are many more guests to greet.” She tugged him along, throwing you an apologetic smile over her slim shoulder as they walked away.

Almost out of earshot, you could hear Tony say, “He calls himself Deus, for Christ's sake!”

They left you two in heated silence. Peter refused to meet your glare, instead choosing to chug down the freshly set out champagne flute filled with Vodka. He immediately flushed as he poured himself another glass full.

“Peter—” you started.

“Don’t say it. I tried, alright?” He slumped against the back of his seat, then shot you a surly frown. “You didn’t even mention our engagement to him. Again.”

You looked down at your untouched food, suddenly not hungry.

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Were you ever going to tell him?”

An anchor of guilt plummeted to the pit of your stomach, chasing away the desire to eat anything for the next few hours. Your answer came out sounding whittled and nearly swallowed by the music. “Pepper knows.”

“And that tells me all I need to know,” said Peter, pushing away from the table and taking the bottle of Vodka with him.

You tried to stamp down the rise of startled panic by clearing your throat and evenly asking, “Where are you going?” A high octave managed to slip in on the last word.

“To socialize. Play some cards. Place a few bets. Criminal stuff. You want in?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, moving further and further away as a wave of hot anger replaced your shame. “Oh, my bad. Sorry. I forgot you probably don’t want your mentor seeing you ruin your perfect image with, what was it? The likes of me?”

He swaggered off, not a mere hint of his hurt evident in his show of arrogance.

You gingerly sat back in your seat, careful to ignore the inquiring stares from those who caught most of the argument. Your nails came close to puncturing your palms, and if your jaw clamped any tighter, it would snap. An annoying, persistent inner voice chimed out, He’s right, you know. It was probably Ned.

You understood Peter enough to know that Tony not being clued in on your engagement wounded him. He told everyone in his life about you—told Aunt May the second you finally agreed to go on that first date with him, nearly shouted to all the rooftops in Queens “SHE SAID YES!” when he proposed three months ago. Yet here you are, dragging your heels on telling Tony, one of the most influential people in your life, that you’re marrying the love of your life. He wouldn’t understand. Or, rather, he would, and he’d abhor your decision.

You’re not sure you could ever explain to Tony how Peter is your favorite star in the night sky. A big, glowing ball of light you spend hours upon hours admiring and appreciating. One that just burns brighter than all the rest.

Your engagement ring sparkled at you, winking as you moved it side to side and marveled at the simple yet elegant details of the inlaid sapphires and diamonds. Peter told you he picked it out a week before the proposal, but you knew he carried it around in his pocket for months, biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. When he asked, you couldn’t say yes fast enough. At that moment, Tony and his aversion to Peter never crossed your mind, but it’s lingered ever since.

Guilt returned as a salve for your anger.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked a woman sitting at your table, a slight accent in her voice. She appears to be young, almost too young to be at this function. The glimmer in her eye and the hitch in her smile denoted a wise person. Goddess braids sat on top of her head like a crown, and she’s wearing a simple black dress with pearl studs that nicely accentuates her dark brown skin.

You uncurled your hands and blew out a held-in breath, kindly smiling back. “Something like that.”

She held out a hand. “Shuri Udaku.”

That name came with an inkling of recognition, but you couldn’t quite place it. You shook hands with the young woman, giving her your name. When you momentarily looked at your clasped hands, your eyes dropped down to catch the jewelry on her wrist. They weren’t pearls like her earrings. They were onyx and emblazoned with ivory symbols on each bead: Kimoyo beads, a technological revolution currently sweeping the nation, manufactured only by one woman. The realization hit you hard. “Hold on a second. The Shuri Udaku? Founder of Vibranium Tech, Shuri Udaku?”

“The one and only,” she answered, her smile growing wider.

This confirmation launched you into a field of questions and acknowledgments. It turns out she knows of your work as New York’s youngest attorney, but you know a bit more about her line of work because Peter always voiced his interest in her growing business. On the surface, Vibranium Tech is like any other technology company, issuing out new and improved ways of communication and medical treatment. In the underground, there’s been rumors of her interest in creating weapons—technological weapons unlike any the arms dealing business has seen before.

You didn’t want to bring up that facet of knowledge just yet. The normal conversation worked wonders on you, loosening your tense muscles and clamped jaw, all of them singing sweet relief once your body naturally released the tension.

“So, did I hear Tony correctly when he said your partner is the Deus?”

You winced and found yourself searching the room for a glimpse of your fiancé. He’s commandeered a table in the back of the venue, showing off his black and gold deck of playing cards to a group of interested guests itching to play a hand.

“Yeah, that would be him.”

“That’s so badass,” Shuri mused, leaning in conspiratorially. “Is he like the mob bosses in TV shows and movies? Like does he have henchmen? Bad-temper? High-speed car chases with the police?”

You genuinely laughed. “Not exactly. Henchmen, kind of. Bad temper is rare. And he’d never shut up about having a high-speed car chase with the police. No, he’s a little more lowkey than all that.”

Long ago, back when you were innocent to the life Peter led, you assumed that that’s precisely what it entailed—an exhilarating life of high stakes, exorbitant amounts of money, strong-armed goons, and reckless shoot-outs. That might be the case for a few bosses, but not Peter. He’s too strategic, and the ins-and-outs of his trade are too complicated to pin on just one person.

“Well, I, um…” she stopped, considered her words. You unconsciously drew in closer. “I may have a business offer for him.”

You kept your smile on, but it felt more commercial-like than friendly. “What type of offer?”

Shuri gulped down a generous amount of her red wine, then darted her eyes side to side before speaking lowly. “Would he be interested in high powered weapons?”

You raised your eyebrows but kept up your cool front. “Depends. In exchange for what?”

“Protection.”

A voice in your ear announced, “He’s here.”

You ignored it, focusing on Shuri. “From who?”

Shuri peeked around again to make sure no one paid any attention to your private conversation, but her examination stopped at the entrance. “From him.”

You cautiously slid your eyes to the main entrance, heart hammering a thunderous rhythm in your chest.

Brock Rumlow. Peter's rival and leader of a group named the Scorpions. A peddler/enforcer for the East Coast's largest mob: Hydra. Of course he’d try to pressure Shuri for the weapons.

He didn’t come dressed according to the occasion, opting for his usual tight-fitted black Tee and gray tactical pants. The visible half of his tattoo, a scorpion’s tail curling out from the cuff of his shirt, stood out against his tan skin. Two other men stood behind him, wearing almost identical clothes to Rumlow and sporting the same scorpion tattoo on their right bicep, not exactly hiding that they carried concealed weapons. All the voices in the room hollowed out to stiff silence, and even the band took its cue to halt. Your eyes found Tony in time to see his jaw tick for the briefest moment, and then he slid right back into a restrained version of his good cheer.

“Hey, hey! This is still a party, people,” Tony called out, addressing the guests. “Eat, talk, have a good time.” He signaled to the band to pick up the music, then crossed the room to chat with Rumlow. You’ve never seen him so keyed up.

You touched Shuri’s hand comfortingly, not taking your eyes off Rumlow. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She deflated gratefully. “Thank you.”

You nodded, already out of your seat and rushing to the back of the room, stopping short once you arrived at Peter’s table. He’s thoroughly invested in this round of poker, glancing back and forth from his cards to the nervous twitches of the five men and one woman at the table. You recognized four of them: Judge Nicholas Fury, Lieutenant Steve Rogers, Manhattan’s Chief of Police Sam Wilson, and District Attorney Natasha Romanoff. Sweat is perspiring on Steve’s forehead, Sam’s leg can’t stop bouncing up and down, and even Natasha, a woman known for keeping her cool while in the line of fire, is chewing on her lower lip. Fury's not fazed. He just seems tapped out.

From what you can estimate, about six hundred dollars lies in the middle of the table.

Sam and Steve speak at the same time. “I’m out.”

The other men followed suit, muttering their defeat. Fury dropped his cards down on the table facedown.

Peter wickedly grinned, zeroing in on Natasha. “Got any last words?”

Natasha squinted her eyes at his taunt. “Kiss my ass, Parker.” She put her cards down face up, showing her hand, and quirked up an eyebrow that dared him to top that: three Queens and a pair of twos. Full House.

Peter laid down his hand. Four 3’s and an ace. Four of a Kind.

A chorus of fucks circled the group as Peter cleared the table of the crumpled bills. Two new bottles of opened Vodka sit on the table as well, along with seven shot-glasses. Steve’s glass remains untouched, but the others look like they’ve drained two shots each.

“Bucky’s gonna kill me for losing so much money,” Steve muttered, twirling around his wedding band.

Sam sadly shook his head. “Dammit, man. I thought we had him this time, too.” He eyed Peter with suspicion. “What you got, kid? X-Ray vision?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, causing a few curls to escape its sleek style. “Nah, jus’ luck.”

“Yeah, well, here’s to hoping your luck runs out,” said Fury, raising his shot glass and slamming it back.

You inched closer to Peter’s side. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes are glazed over. You wonder how he’s even capable of sitting up, let alone playing people out of their money.

“Peter,” you whispered, putting your hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t shake you off. “Rumlow’s here.”

The remaining people at the table began to disperse in a collective gripe of loss. Peter didn’t say anything, only jerked his head in acknowledgment.

Your hand itched to slap him back into reality. “Peter, baby, listen. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I should have told Tony about our engagement.” Desperation sapped into your words. “It was stupid and childish not to, and as soon as I get the chance, I’ll tell him. But for the love of God, this is not the time to—”

“Well, well, well! Look who we got here! Deus, in the flesh!” boomed a disturbingly baritone voice. Rumlow, shadowed by his two men, plopped down in one of the empty chairs, sitting right across from Peter. He glanced at Peter first, then languorously landed his gaze on you. “And who’s this pretty lady you got here?”

“My fiancée,” answered Peter monotonously. He said it as if the words synonymously meant: just some chick. A dull kind of ache slashed through your chest as you dropped your hand back down to your side and took two steps away from him.

Rumlow pretended to miss the interaction, appearing to be in deep thought, and then clapped his hands once. “Oh! The attorney. I don’t believe I ever formally introduced myself.” He offered his large hand to you, grinning with his whole teeth on display. “Name’s Brock Rumlow.”

You reluctantly let him take your outstretched hand. His skin is blazing hot, to the point where your hand nearly felt suffocated. He brought it to his lips for a small kiss that twisted your stomach in knots. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rumlow.”

Rumlow winked. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart. And call me Brock.”

“Fuck do you want, Rumlow?” Peter bit out, picking the cards up off the table and shuffling them.

“Ooh,” tsked Rumlow. He made sure to lay another grin on you just to irk Peter. “Come on, Parker. Can’t a guy just enjoy some company once in a while? It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.” He watched Peter’s movements, the cards haphazardly sliding back and forth from one hand to the next. “Playing cards, huh? You up for a quick game?”

You butt in with a pressed laugh. “Actually, we were just leaving.” Drunk Peter is overly confident. If Rumlow found that out, you knew he’d take Peter for everything he’s worth.

“So soon?” Rumlow glanced down at his watch. “It’s not even ten yet. What’s the rush?”

Peter cut you off. “No rush. I’m staying. You play Draw Poker?”

“ ‘Course I play Draw Poker, but that seems too simple for you, Parker. Don’t you wanna make it hard for me? A little Texas Hold ’em?”

“Draw Poker,” said Peter, splitting the deck against the table and flexing the cards enough to have them rapidly collapse into place. “Take it or leave it.”

A dark, mischievous smile brewed on Rumlow’s face as he watched Peter fumble with the deck and, at some point, entirely losing his grip. You discreetly watched him size up his opponent, dismayed to find that he likes the assessment. Hair is stubbornly falling into Peter’s eyes, eyes that anyone a mile away could point out are bleary and bloodshot. The flush from earlier deepened on his neck and flashed scarlet across his face—an easy target for a skilled player.

“Deal me in.”

The first game played out exactly as you feared it would. Rumlow and Peter agreed on a $100 ante to get the ball rolling, both pulling out a single bill from their pocket and placing it in the middle of the table, then they settled for a pot-limit. Though Peter’s shuffling skills lacked his usual finesse, he expertly dealt each of them a hand of five cards.

You leaned against the back wall with your arms crossed over your chest and watched the game unfold. Rumlow processes his hands at the speed of a bullet, snapping his eyes to his cards once he’s drawn, and immediately discards the ones he doesn’t like when it’s his turn. Other than the minutest crinkle in the corner of his left eye, you couldn’t tell when he felt confident or when he bluffed. He gave nothing away, not even an involuntary scratch to his five o’clock shadow. He was so in the zone he began to partake in the Vodka bottle close to his side of the table, swigging straight from the mouth.

On the other hand, Peter moved as if a millisecond was the equivalent length of ten years, scanning his cards more than several times with pursed lips, looking up at Rumlow, scanning his cards again, once, twice, three times, then reluctantly discarding some. He frequently shoves a hand through his hair to keep it out of his eyesight, but the same unruly strands find their way back to impede his vision. He scratches the shell of his ear when he’s about to draw, and Rumlow’s picked up the tell.

Rumlow never even had to do more than call. The confident drunk in Peter always raised.

The pot increased to about $1400 before Peter folded his hand.

As Rumlow collected his winnings, he suggestively lifted his eyebrows at Peter. “Care for round 2?”

Confident drunk Peter never backs down, even when he’s the dumbass who can’t remember that he’s brought fists to a gunfight.

You step back up to the table and put a restrictive hand on Peter’s wrist to keep him from picking up the cards. “Enough, Peter. You’re done. Let’s go home.”

“No, I’m not done,” he said, snatching his arm away from your touch. “Go talk to Tony or somethin’. I’ve got this.”

Rumlow caught your bewildered stare and shrugged his broad shoulders, a gesture that didn’t match his cocky smile. He has Peter right where he wants him, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him because Peter is a willing participant running on alcohol and no critical judgment.

You should have left right then and there, but your feet stayed rooted to the floor. You couldn’t leave Peter like this. Sighing, you pulled up a chair to the table and sat beside Peter.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on him,” said Rumlow, putting on a smile too sardonic to be comforting. Too artificial to be genuine.

His lie didn’t surprise you. The hole Peter dug himself did.

The second round went similarly to the first. Flash decisions from Rumlow and molasses-like contemplation from Peter. This time, though, the ante came up to $200. As far as you knew, Peter is only carrying about $2500 in his pockets.

By the time the fourth round started, Peter’s Rolex lies on the table. The ante is up to $1000. Somehow the pot-limit became no-limit.

By the fifth round, Peter made paperless bets. Ante is $10,000. Rumlow knew Peter’s pockets went deep, and he’d keep at it until he struck gold.

Nothing you said stopped him. Peter hadn’t won a single hand. He’s desperate for at least one good hand; he’s got something to prove.

Rumlow kept drinking with each win.

By the seventh round, a crowd is around the table, watching in horrified interest as Peter raises the bet to one million dollars. The most significant amount you’ve ever seen him bet. So far, he’s held this hand for three draws.

Peter’s hair lost all semblance of its previous style, hanging over his forehead in disarray. He’s hunched over in his chair, his jacket’s off, and he’s rolled up his dress shirt’s sleeves to his elbows. His group’s signature tattoo stands out stark against his inner wrist: a roughly sketched spider.

Rumlow, eyes now as bloodshot as Peter’s and face just as flushed under his tan skin, asks, “Think you got something, Parker?”

“Do you?” Peter countered.

“I just might.” Rumlow ran a finger against his bottom lip, then smiled at his hand. “Why don’t you say we make this last Showdown a little more interesting, eh?”

A terrible queasiness wrapped around your gut.

Peter listened intently, his silence Rumlow’s indication to continue.

“$10 million. And the best trading routes. Including foreign connections. I want everything you got.”

You turned to Peter, placing your hand on top of his until he finally looked at you. Your eyes begged him to listen to you for once tonight. “Please don’t do this.”

His reply sounded tortured. “But I can. I have to.”

“Is winning really worth losing everything?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Rumlow chuckled ominously. “Oh, that’s not everything, sweetheart. We both know what’s left.” He gave you a meaningful stare.

Your eyes widened in disgust.

Peter snapped his gaze to Rumlow. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“No, but I want her. Imagine having New York’s best attorney in my arsenal. How many charges has she saved your sorry ass from, Parker? Five? All felonies, right? You lucky son of a bitch.” Rumlow’s smile is sinister. “Not that lucky tonight, huh?”

Peter spoke through gritted teeth. “Back off, Rumlow.”

“To have Deus wrapped around her finger, she must be pretty damn good. Is she, Parker?” goaded Rumlow, ignoring Peter’s warning. “Is she any good?”

Instinct controlled your hands as they seized Peter’s cards before he launched himself over the table and landed an ear-splitting blow to Rumlow’s jaw. Rumlow must’ve known the punch was coming. Still, he hadn’t expected the impact to be that forceful because his eyes blinked in astonishment. The two men behind Rumlow didn’t react fast enough, missing Peter as he stood above Rumlow, grabbed the handgun hidden in the waist of his pants and pressed the muzzle deep into Rumlow’s temple, finger on the trigger.

Rumlow shifted his eyes up to Peter. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Peter’s voice is lethally calm. “Say one more goddamn word about her and you’re dead.”

“Put that gun down, Parker!”

Tony. Shit.

Peter squared his jaw, never taking his eyes off of Rumlow. About six off-duty policemen and the venue’s guards have their weapons trained on Peter.

“I said put the gun down! Now!” Tony had pushed his way through the crowd, Sam and Steve right behind him. You didn’t notice until now how quiet the room became, everyone holding in a collective breath.

“Put it down, son,” Steve gently ordered. He spied Rumlow’s men, their hands tightened on their guns, and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

Peter didn’t move a muscle. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath.

Sam, holding a pair of cuffs in his hand, tried getting through to him. “It’s over. Drop the gun, kid.”

A slow grin spread across Rumlow’s face.

“Peter,” you spoke softly.

His red-rimmed eyes met yours.

“Everything’s gonna be alright. Just put the gun down, okay? Please.”

Two heartbeats passed before his grip on the gun slackened, and he begrudgingly lowered his arm.

Steve and Sam seized on the opportunity. Steve disarmed Peter while Sam restrained Peter’s arms behind his back and tightened the cuffs around his wrists.

Rumlow massaged his injured jaw. “Guess that means I win, Parker.”

Sam yanked Peter back before he could charge at Rumlow. When Peter looked your way, he saw you still held his cards. “I’m still in play.”

“Wait,” you protested. Sam began to guide Peter up to the entrance. “Peter, I can’t—”

He nodded his head furiously, talking over his shoulder as Sam lead him away. “Yes, you can. You know you can, baby. Play the hand.”

You stared helplessly at Peter’s retreating form. It was all on you.

Rumlow watched, unperturbed; his cards still held tight in the hand that wasn’t nursing his jaw.

Slowly, you lowered yourself down into Peter’s chair, sitting directly across from Rumlow’s smirking face. Tony stared at you incredulously. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. The room’s chatter never recovered, either. All eyes stay glued towards the standoff.

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

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