#without counting the nosy coworker who keeps telling me what i should do in my private life and wants to know why i have to leave early???

[aleximustd13]

Quitting my job. As a treat

[simsadventures]

Gilded: Chapter 3: Power Over Me

Mobster!Steve x Reader

Summary: What more can you do than have a rad bachelorette party and then move to a house full of mobsters. It all sounds fun, right? Well, not according to your experience. 

Warnings: mobster AU, drinking, swearing, surveillance, angst, smidge of fluff, violence, mention of bruises, fear 

Word Count: 5737

A/N: A little late, I know I know, but I wanted to make sure the chapter was exactly how I wanted it. I keep thinking I will get to the wedding, and then some situations occur and I know I have to concentrate on them a little more. Than being said, I think we will finally see the wedding next! What do you think of this part? Did you like it? Is the reader a little less annoying? Let me know xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

< Previous Chapter 

The scene was supposed to be joyous, but, for some reason, the majority of what you felt was filled with sadness. Not for any particular reason, it was just the weigh of your decision finally settling in your heart and the realization hitting you that you would indeed be getting married in a week to a total stranger, who was a mobster, none less. 

You chose it, you had to remind yourself as tears fought their way in your eyes. It was just momentary sadness overpowering you, the feeling that your wedding wouldn’t be filled with people loving and caring for you, that the day would be more about showing off Steve’s power over the world than showing his love for his new bride, for whom he had none. And you would be there almost alone: no parents, no extended family, and a very few close friends. Whom you loved dearly, of course, and without whom you wouldn’t even be considering taking such a step. You needed them there, and not just the two lovable idiots you lived with. 

It was also people you’ve come to love during your university years as well as some coworkers, like Christy and Anja. Together it made around 15 people, which was actually a lot more than you had anticipated, but still. It would have to be Aidan walking you down the aisle, and just the mere thought made a choked sob escape your lips. 

The sound brought the attention of the room to you, and before you knew it, you were enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from all the people there, everyone telling you that you should be happy, that this was a good thing. Of course, nobody except Caroline and Aidan knew the reality behind the wedding. All they thought was happening was that you fell madly in love with Steve Rogers, and now you two were tying the knot. You even overhead Aisha say that you were definitely pregnant, otherwise, you wouldn’t have rushed into it like this. You tried to assure everyone that there was no pregnancy at all, but, of course, people believed what they wanted, and you lacked the energy to go around the room and speak to them individually, denying what they formed in their heads. 

It was Friday night, and you were in your apartment, surrounded by all those people who would come to your wedding. You sent a list of names to Steve that afternoon, and, after what you assumed was a background check on all of them, he agreed that yes, these 15 people could actually come. And when he did, you called an emergency meeting at your apartment, using it both as a way of inviting them to the wedding and as a kind of bachelorette party, where all you wanted to do was to drink heavily, eat a disgusting amount of carbs and pass out around dusk. Safe to say, all of your friends had been in, and by the time it was 11 PM, you were all tipsy, and people started to dance. Some (ehm, ehm, Caroline) even on a table, which was hilarious to the rest of you. 

The sadness came and went all evening, but you were determined not to let it ruin your night. So, every time you felt like it was creeping up on you again, you just told somebody and let them hug you until you were feeling better. 

Then, somebody came up with the idea to play Never Have I Ever, and since the tequila still burned in your veins, you agreed immediately. And so the game started. You were roaring like a pride of lions, each answer louder than the previous ones, but the most fun arose from telling each other funny stories. 

“Ok, so this one time I was blowing off my boyfriend, right? And you know how much I hate the taste of sperm, and he knows it as well, but this one time he really insisted on my swallowing, and so when he finally came, I squeaked and pointed somewhere behind him so that I could spit the cum to glass under the table, and when he turned around I showed him my mouth, void of any liquid, and he looked super proud,” your friend Naila laughed as she told the story to the question: never have I ever swallowed cum. 

The night was flowing smoothly, and soon, you saw that it was getting somehow lighter outside. And, sure enough, when you looked out of the window, you saw that the sunrise was coming in mere minutes. 

“Guys, guys! The sunrise is here. Let’s go to the roof to enjoy it,” you yelled even though half of the people were already fast asleep. The few of you who were still barely alive, which was around 5 of you, staggered towards the door and crawled up the stairs to the highest levels, and when you opened the last door, you had New York underneath you. 

You were wasted and exhausted, but the sight poured new life into you as you watched the early orange rays shine on one building at a time, waking up the city that never slept. It was magical, and it took your breath away. You felt your worries melting away as you saw a new day coming, and you thought it was a new day with many possibilities and hopes for you. You had nothing to lose, and Steve proved to you that he would, indeed, take care of you if need be. All would be if you just played your part and learned enough about Steve to be able to escape his wrath. 

The exhaustion then hit your body just as the ray hit your face, and you waved at the drunk group watching the sunrise, each of them in their own realm of thoughts, and soon enough, you sauntered back to your room, where you fell asleep just like the rest of the bachelorette party. 

A piercing tone woke you up with a start, and, for a second, you didn’t even know where you were, what time it was, or even what fucking century it was. The throbbing in your head prevented your brain from functioning properly, and so you rummaged through the pile of clothes next to your bed, fishing for what was obviously your phone. Gosh, how you hated the ringtone, and you reminded yourself to just mute your phone altogether because then nothing like this could happen again. 

You picked up without so much as looking at the screen and just sneered a harsh what into the speaker. 

“Well, good morning to you too, honey,” you heard Steve’s smug voice and rolled your eyes so hard the pain in your head increased. “Is this the way to greet your future husband? I don’t fucking think so,” he continued, and a considerable part of you contemplated just hanging up on him and his annoyingly sexy voice. 

“Steve, I have no fucking idea what time it is, but it’s definitely not time for you to call me and want me to be nice. Give me a few good hours of sleep, and then we can talk, ok?��� You hoped this would do it, but from the silence on the other side, you assumed he wouldn’t let be just yet. 

“What happened? Did your bachelorette party get a little out of hand, and you went to sleep only after sunrise?” 

You gasped, shocked how he knew any of it, and for the first time, the fog in front of your brain lifted a little bit. You checked the time, and seeing it was only 9 AM, you assumed that asshole woke you up on purpose if he knew so much about your nightly activities. 

“How the fuck-“

“Language!” He yelled suddenly, and you flinched at the intensity of his voice. “I know everything, and I told you I would have somebody keeping an eye on you at all times. You’re only lucky the guy sleeping next to you is gay, you’d be in so much trouble otherwise, honey,” Steve spat, and the only sound you could muster was a long huff, as you regretted ever being born. 

“What do you want, Steve? If you know so much, you must know that I’m beat and all I wanna do is sleep, with a guy in my bed or without him. So, if you have something to tell me, please do, otherwise, have a good day, and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“We’re gonna have so much fun together, you and I, Y/N. I’m calling because I wanted to let you know that your room is prepared and ready for you and that your bodyguard will pick you up at exactly 8 PM, so don’t be late. Clint will also help you carry all things you need. I’ll send you his number so that you can be in touch with him. Oh, and honey? Take some aspirin and go to sleep, you sound like you need it,” even through the phone, you could hear him smirk as he hung up and let you on your own once again. Thank God.

“Who was it?” Aidan asked sleepily from the other side of the bed, and you just grumbled some response, not really sure if he understood what you meant, but when he hummed and patted your outstretched hand, you took it as yes, I understand you mean your future husband Steve Rogers, nice talk. 

The phone signalled you received a text, and when you looked at it, it was your bodyguard’s phone number and a directive, telling you to go to sleep already, because the dark circles under your eyes didn’t suit you. 

Oh, how you wanted to kill this man already. He got on your nerves more easily than anybody ever before, and for a brief moment, you wondered why he affected you so. You didn’t even know him, and you shouldn’t let him tossing you back and forth, but here you were, pissed because you could just imagine how proud he was of himself that he woke you up and told you what to do so many times in such a short call. 

Sighing, you got up from the bed and went to check the window to see if you could spot the nosy bodyguard ratting on you to Steve. You needed to have a word with him because he just couldn’t go running to Steve every time you blinked. 

Looking around the street, you tried to spot a strange vehicle, one that didn’t fit into the street you grew to know so well. And, sure enough, there was a large SUV, much like the one you had driven with Steve before, and you noticed that the windows were tilted. Since your apartment was on the first floor, anybody from the street had a great view right into your flat, and because you passed out totally exhausted, you didn’t have the time, nor did you remember to shut your blinds. 

You huffed and shut them now, cursing Steve and his nosiness because he wasn’t making your life any easier, and you weren’t even married yet. The year in front of you would be annoying and difficult, but maybe it would make you feel alive again. 

Shaking your head, you didn’t let the memories flood your brain as you strode back to your back, plopped on it belly-first and fell straight asleep.

“Are you sure it’s everything?” Aidan looked around your now half-empty room, except for the furniture that you knew you wouldn’t need. Steve promised to give you a furnished room, and you took his word for it, so you just took the essentials, like your clothes and sentimental stuff. Marie Condo would have been proud because you still managed to get rid of a few things that didn’t spark joy!

“Yeah, and even if I left something here, I could still come, you know? It’s not like I’m never seeing you or this place again. I’ll still be like a 30-minute ride away,” you smiled soothingly at him, but he just shook his head, obviously fighting all the emotions swirling in his heart. 

“Alright, alright. No crying. I’ll call you guys when I’m all settled, and Steve actually lets me be by myself, and I’ll show you the room, ok?”

Both Aiden and Caroline nodded speechlessly and then pulled you in a group hug. 

“You sure you wanna do it? We can still make it seem like we kidnapped you and take you somewhere to Mexico, or Argentina, or wherever he wouldn’t find you,” Caroline whispered, and you laughed through the tears fighting their way out of your eyes. 

“I’ll be fine, you’ll see. We will all have so much fun, and before we know it, the year is over, and I’m back here with you guys, having lived a little,” you smirked, and they nodded reassuringly, not really sure if it really was the best way to live a life, but they didn’t want to push you again. Your heart was set, and they both knew there was nothing they could do now. Except, of course, really kidnapping you. 

“Miss Y/L/N, we should go. The boss said we should be there at 9 PM at the latest, and I would prefer if we could be a little early,” Clint said professionally, but you could see that he was afraid of what would Steve do had you arrived late. You didn’t want to start this weird-ass journey by pissing your future husband or making him hurt his employees (you didn’t know whether he would actually do that, but just to be on the safe side, since he did cut off a guy’s finger a mere few days ago). 

You nodded and stepped from your best friends, looking at them and smiling brightly. You didn’t want any teary goodbyes, so you just showed them thumbs up and followed Clint out of the door. You knew there would be some tears when you left but didn’t think they would come as early as on the first step from your apartment. 

Fortunately, there weren’t that many steps to go before you were out of the building and rushed into the SUV by Clint. It was dark already, but you didn’t want him to see you cry, so you swiftly pulled out your sunglasses and put them on, not saying a word to Clint as he started the car and pulled it into New York’s night traffic. The lights around you were almost blinding, and for a moment, you were glad you had the glasses on, but then another wave of regret and sadness hit you, and you had a hard time keeping in the sobs. Scratching your arms, you stared out of the window and took a few calming breaths, telling yourself to get a grip because you were about to enter the lion’s den, and you couldn’t show them any emotions. 

You knew Clint knew what was going on, but he was gentleman enough not to comment on it. Still, you needed to make sure he understood this little episode was just between the two of you. 

“Can I ask you something, Clint?” You said suddenly and saw his eyes flickering between the road and the mirror, meeting your eyes for a moment. 

“Of course, Miss Y/L/N. However, I should warn you, I am not allowed to give you certain information,” he said formally, and you nodded knowingly. 

“Yeah, right. If I asked you to keep a little secret from your boss, would you keep it?” You asked and nibbled on your lower lip anxiously. 

He seemed to have thought for a second before he nodded his head in a manner telling you that there were things Steve didn’t need to know. His eyes met yours again before he spoke up. 

“I’m now your bodyguard, and if I think the information kept from the boss is in your best interest, then I won’t tell him anything. For example, you smiled all the way to the apartment, no tears and no sunglasses. Though, I think you should powder your nose and dry your face,” he smirked, and you laughed a little, nodding gratefully and doing exactly as he said. 

The car stopped exactly as you put all the supplies back into your purse, and you had a feeling Clint took a longer route to Steve’s house just to give your face the time to dry up and calm down. Checking the time, you saw it was 10 minutes before 9 and saw the relief on Clint’s face when he realized the same thing. 

“Alright, I will take you to the boss and then will get the boys to help with your things. We won’t go through anything, but if you need our help when you’re unpacking, all you have to do is text me,” Clint said, walking you to the door. 

The man you met on your first night there was standing as a sculpture at the exact same spot, and you wondered if he ever moved from that hallway. He did move towards you, gesturing to your purse, but Clint’s hand stopped him mid-motion. 

“She’s clean. I’ve been with her the whole time,” he said sternly and with authority, and when he saw the first man taking a breath to protest, Clint just gave him a chilling frown, and the man stepped down, hung his head in defeat and let you through. 

“It’s not a problem, Clint; I could have shown him the purse, you know?” You almost whispered as you walked through the empty rooms and hallways with Clint by your side. 

“They need to learn to respect you, Miss. You are, after all, marrying the boss very soon, and they need to understand that you are not a threat,” he gave you a curt nod, and you blushed a little. You didn’t know what it was, but the way Clint spoke to you with so much trust and respect already made you feel much better. You knew it would be an issue, so having somebody on your side was a huge relief already. 

“Thank you, Clint, I really-“ 

“Well, happy you two are best buddies already! Are you gonna braid each other’s hair and do each other’s nails soon too?” A voice snapped you back to reality, a voice you already knew too well. Steve was leaning against a door, his face stoic despite the mocking tone of his voice. Clint obviously tensed next to you, mumbled some apology and scurried out of the room, leaving you with Steve. 

You just looked at him and crossed your arms on your chest. 

“Do you need to be like this?” You asked incredulously, not really understanding why he had to be such an ass when all you did was having some sort of conversation with one of his loyal men. 

“Like what, honey? You seem to forget who I am and what I can do to you and your fucking life,” he sneered when he finally pulled away from the door and marched right in front of you. 

Your arms fell from your chest as you stared at him, trying to figure him out. Which, considering he was a prolific mobster, wasn’t the easiest task at hand. But you tried nevertheless and poked to see where was all this coming from. He obviously needed to be in control of every situation, always the centre of attention, and, you realized, it was probably this that pissed him off. You walked in, not really paying attention to him standing by the door but carelessly talking to somebody else. But his attitude was another thing entirely. 

“What do you want me to say, Steve? That I’m sorry I talked to somebody else and that it won’t happen again? You know it probably will, especially since you assigned Clint with the task of taking care of me and making sure I survive this year with you, which is really all he had done in the 40 minutes I have known him,” you reasoned, trying to sound confident but not pushy. You needed to show him that he couldn’t just toss you around like he might have thought. You didn’t expect him changing his attitude altogether for you, but you, at least, hoped he would go easy on you. 

He was seething but also thinking; you could see his mind going in overdrive to come up with something snarky and mean. But you were quicker than him, once again. 

“Will you be so kind and show me to my room? I would like to get settled in before we start talking about the wedding.”

“There will be no talk of a wedding. All you have to take care of is go tomorrow and pick your fucking dress. Everything else is being dealt with. I won’t need you tonight, so you can go and be by yourself till tomorrow,” he snapped and walked away without saying another word. 

Great, now you felt like you were grounded, and all you did was talking with somebody nice to you. You shook your head disapprovingly and headed in a direction you thought might have been your room, but after taking a few turns, you weren’t even sure you were in New York anymore. 

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing here?” You heard from behind you, and before you knew what was happening, somebody pushed you forcibly against the nearest wall, pressing their elbow into your neck. You coughed, surprised, clawing at the man’s forearms and trying to let him loosen the press because it was getting harder and harder to breathe. 

“I said, what the fuck are you doing here?” He yelled into your face, and you tried to tell him, but your voice wouldn’t come out. So, you just stared at him, tears filling your eyes before you heard a loud hey from somewhere behind you two and saw a man with long brown hair running towards you. 

“Sarge, this woman was roaming around here. I think she is a spy,” the man still holding you said to the newly arrived guy, and all you could do was shake your head and tried to make yourself look as non-threatening as possible. Which wasn’t difficult considering you were in no position to be able to even defend yourself had the man decided to crush your trachea. 

“Fucking idiot! That’s the boss’ bride! Let her go, you dickhead,” the man, sarge, growled, and you felt the pressure leaving your body. Which was all it took for you to collapse on the floor and start coughing uncontrollably, gripping your neck in your hands to protect it from any further disturbance. 

“I-I, I didn’t know, Sarge! Don’t tell him. I thought she was some fucking spy. What the hell was she even doing here all alone, huh? It’s not my fucking fault she came sniffing around stuff that is none of her business,” the man tried to defend himself, but from the murderous gaze he received from the sergeant, he wasn’t very successful. 

“Are you ok, Miss? Did he break anything? Is your head spinning? Are you feeling nauseous? Any of this?” He crouched down to your level and extended an arm to you, and you flinched instinctively, not feeling too sure who was your friend here and who wasn’t. So, to play it safe, nobody was your friend, and you’d be scared of them all, forever. Easy business. 

The man saw your reaction and frowned even more but was persistent when he removed your hands from your neck to see an already-forming bruise alongside your throat. 

“You need to talk to me, Y/N. Are you hurting anywhere?” 

You coughed and grimaced because, yes, in fact, you did hurt and that all over the fucking neck and even your head. Which, given the man almost crushed your fucking throat with his elbow, wasn’t that surprising. 

“I’ll be fine. And I wasn’t sniffing around; I was just looking for my room. I thought it might be somewhere here, and I would have asked if I saw anyone. But this place is like a fucking maze, and I was all alone,” you screeched, and the sergeant nodded and helped you to stand up. He was pulling out what looked like a phone, but you stopped him. 

“Don’t call him, please. I’m fine. I just need to get to the room, so I can put some cold water on it, have a drink and go to sleep. Please,” you accentuated and saw the man weighing his options before he put the phone back to his pocket and nodded for you to follow him. 

“I will tell him, just so you know. Steve needs to know about this, and we need to make sure you are introduced to the whole house the first thing in the morning so that this doesn’t happen again. But he needs to know. I will give you a few minutes to take it all in before I do call him, though,” he said with a resolution in his voice, and while you wanted to protest, you saw that it would have been to no avail. So, not saying another word, you let yourself in what was supposed to be your room and took it all in. 

The walls were this very soft grey, which you actually preferred to the cold white you saw a lot all over the house. There was a king-sized bed against the main wall, framed with two bed-side tables and two matching white and gold lamps. There were many pillows on the bed and a plaid, grey and blue, throw as well, making it all feel very homey. You could see a large closet, where you could have easily fit ten times the amount of clothes you owned. The only other thing in the room was a table with a chair and some drawers, where you could picture yourself working and writing. 

However, when you turned around, you saw something that caught your attention. An easel with a little table on wheels, on top of which was a palette where you could see yourself mixing colors left and right. You squealed, but the sound reminded you that you have just been assaulted and that you could admire the room later. 

You took your time in the bathroom, inspecting your neck and hissing here and there when you touched it carefully. You knew the sarge was outside your door, probably counting in his head before he called Steve, and you were actually pretty surprised he wasn’t marching in already. Just when you thought of it, the door to your room flew open, and you heard Steve and the man talking (well, actually, more like yelling at each other).

“Where the fuck is she? I’m going to kill Drax. I swear to fucking God, man. How is it even possible that he does shit like this? They were all supposed to be briefed, for fuck’s sake. Imma have Sam’s ass as well for this. Fuck!” He yelled and kicked into something, which made you frowned, and you rushed out of the bathroom. 

Steve spun around and almost ran towards you, cradling your face in his hands carefully and lifting your head so that he could have a clear view of the injuries. He was swearing under his breath, but you couldn’t help it and stare at him, wide-eyed. He was actually careful with you, sweet even as he took it all in, and when he was sure you wouldn’t die right there, he took a step back from you. 

“Are you ok?” He asked after a moment, and all you could was just nod and stand there awkwardly, scratching your arms behind your back. 

“Will you be able to find your room easier next time?” 

“No, we took too many turns. But I won’t leave this room till morning anyway, and I will learn to stay out of the way very quickly, I promise,” you rushed to say, not really wanting to meet any of his crew alone again. 

“You can’t be scared walking around here, honey. I will show you around right now, and I have already called an emergency meeting, and I want you there. This can never happen again,” he said gravely, and you understood this was probably his way of apologizing for something that wasn’t really all his fault. Well, he didn’t have to storm off and leave you there, nor did he have to scare Clint away, who was ready to show you to your room in the first place. 

“Is it necessary, Steve? If I’m quite honest, I don’t feel too comfortable leaving the room right now,” you quipped, but Steve wasn’t listening anymore. He just grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door. Weirdly, you felt a little better having the skin-on-skin contact with him because, at least now, nobody would be stupid enough to attack you. 

You tried to remember the way and took in the details that would make you not lose your trail again, such as the red vase on one of the tables in the corner that looked just like the corner two minutes ago, but the vase was something you could remember, so you took a mental note of that and other little things that would serve for your safety, obviously. Because when Steve told you people would want you dead, you sort of didn’t expect those people would be in the house with you. 

You walked through the spacious kitchen and the adjacent dining room to find yourself in what looked like a meeting room, with around 20 men gathered and scattered all over the room. 

When Steve finally stopped, he let go of your hand, but he instinctively reached for you and pulled you against his side. You looked at him in slight disbelief again but didn’t say anything as he stared in front of himself till the room was as quiet as a freaking church during a sermon. 

“Let me make this very quick: however lays as much as a fucking finger on Y/N here, I will kill you, and I won’t give a fuck who you are. You were briefed that I’m getting married to the woman I want, and because somebody wasn’t paying attention to the fucking briefing, evidently, my fiancé is now sporting a black neck, which she will have to cover for our wedding. Drax, you and I will speak tomorrow, I was ready to kill you, but I’m a reasonable man, so I will sleep and think of your punishment then. Now, any questions?” He asked threateningly, and you knew even if somebody did have a question, nobody would dare to ask it now. 

And just as you predicted, the room was as quiet as before, and Steve waved his hand so that everybody was dismissed and they could breathe again. Just not in his presence. 

“Sam, you stay here,” Steve added when he saw one of his closest men leaving the room as well. 

“I will deal with him, Steve. I don’t know how that could have happened, but it won’t ever again, I promise. If it does, you can have my head, man,” the bulky man said and smiled warmly at you. 

“By the way, hi, I’m Sam. I’m like the muscles here, you know? So, if you need to pick something up, I’m your guy,” he said with a wink, and you chuckled but took his hand to shake it. 

“Nice to meet you, Sam, and I will remember that, thank you.” 

“Alright, now, we have all the pleasantries behind us, you can go back to your room and go to sleep. And Y/N, if anybody as much as looks at you the wrong way, you tell me, ok? This marriage might not be a genuine one, but none of these assholes knows that or should care about that. They should protect you just like they protect me, and I don’t care what they say. I can’t have my fucking wife scared to walk these halls,” he was still frowning as he was saying all this to you, but you could see he was much more relaxed than when all the men were in the room. These two, the sergeant whose name you still didn’t know, and Sam, were obviously close to Steve because despite the winks Sam gave to you, Steve didn’t make a scene, nor did he give you the pointed looks when others were around. Still, you were on thin ice, and there was too much drama for one day for you to try and challenge him in any way. 

“Ay ay, Captain,” you chuckled, and the corner of Steve’s mouth actually moved a little, so you took that as a good sign. 

“Alright, I will try and get back to my room and call it a day because tomorrow is an important day! So, nice to meet you, gentlemen, and I will see you soon, I guess,” you waved at them awkwardly, and Sam waved back enthusiastically as you left the men to themselves. 

“She is actually quite nice,” Sam summarized, and winked at Bucky, who just rolled his eyes at him in annoyance, having just enough of Sam’s antics for one day. 

“Yeah, yeah, she actually is, when she’s not talking back and challenging every fucking thing I say,” Steve complained, and it was a turn for both men to roll their eyes at their best friend. 

“Oh yeah, because you love when they’re meek and quiet, we forgot. C’mon, man, somebody fucking choked her today, and she was still standing here with her head held high, keeping it together like a fucking pro. I say she is perfect for you,” Sam said defensively when he saw the murderous stare from his friend/boss. 

Good thing Sam didn’t see you in your room because as soon as you closed the door behind yourself, the tears just streamed down your face, and small sobs left your lips. You were glad the day was over and dreaded what the next day would bring. 

Next Chapter >

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[dirtyoatmeall]

Secrets (Shigaraki x Reader)

A/N: I know I said I was working on a summer camp wip and I am but then I got this idea and as usual here is a random fic that could be a series? n e ways enjoy ooc shiggy

Pairing: Shigaraki x gn!reader (p sure I dont use pronouns) (established relationship) 

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Cursing

~

“Fuck”

“C’mon you’re almost there”

“I don’t know where it is!”

“It’s literally right in front of you, how can you not find it.”

“Shut up before I kill you.”

“I’m on your team you can’t kill me.”

“Watch me.”

“(Y/N) What the fuck!”

“I told you not to bully me this is your fault.”

“Oh my god you are such a baby how will you survive without me, stay put until I find you”

“I think you meant to say “(Y/N) I’m sorry I’m such a meanie face I promise to make it up to you.””

“No I did not.”

“Fine, remember you did this to yourself.”

“(Y/N) STOP SHOOTING AT ME”

“Stop being mean to me”

“Are you serious? Fine I’ll stop being mean to you, just stop shooting me we are literally not going to progress at all if you keep killing me.”

“I don’t know, that didn’t sound very convincing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me stop shooting me I swear to god.”

“Why bring God into this? We all know he’d take my side in this Tomura, now until you stop being a meanie I will simply not let you live.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Because I’m hot and will kiss your crusty lips.”

“Not for long if you keep this up.”

“Shigaraki Tomura are you threatening to withhold kisses from me? I think we both know you would cave before I would.”

“…Shut up.”

You snorted as you looked over to your boyfriend, who had a slight blush coating his cheeks. He refused to look at you, keeping his gaze on the TV, pretending to focus on the game. You rolled your eyes and set your controller off to the side before doing the same to his. He weakly protested but it was cut short when you placed your lips on his, his hands immediately going to your waist and bunching up the material of your shirt in his gloved fist. You cupped his cheeks, moving to straddle his waist to get more comfortable.

The two of you didn’t separate until you absolutely needed air, panting slightly when you broke apart. Your hands softly skimmed over his shoulders before encircling his waist, your cheek resting on his shoulder. He nuzzled into your neck, squeezing your hips as he sighed into your hair. You were content to sit there for the rest of the day, until an alarm went off on your phone. You groaned and slid off of Shigaraki’s lap to silence it. Your shoulders slumped as you realized you had to get ready for work. You had forgotten you agreed to take your coworker’s late night shift. You quickly got ready, Shigaraki watching you from the bed before betting up when you were putting on your shoes.

“I’ll walk with you, it's getting dark.” You coked an eyebrow at his words. “Are you sure? I’ve taken this shift before and you didn’t feel the need then, and besides, I think there are more heroes out than usual you might be spotted. He simply rolled his eyes and put on his shoes, grabbing your hand and leading you out the door, his hood pulled up to slightly obscure his face. “Shut up, let me walk you to work.” You giggled and walked beside him, hands intertwined. You talked about the new stuff going on at work, the new shipments of books coming in, catching him up on workplace drama, and anything else he missed since the last time you talked about work as you walked down the street. Shigaraki listened diligently, chiming in with “oh nice”, or “that bitch” when appropriate.

When you arrived at work you kissed him and promised to make up your game mistakes when you get home. He rolled his eyes but the smile was still on his face as he turned to leave. You turned to enter your work when a pair of green eyes caught your attention. There was a hero, most likely on patrol, and a sidekick? Or kid, you weren’t quite sure but something seemed familiar about them. The hero wasn’t paying attention to you, talking about something as they gestured to the building. But the other person's eyes were locked on your own, you couldn’t distinguish the look on their face, and you furrowed our eyebrows before going into your work, clutching your purse strap a little tighter.

You shoved the uneasiness to the back of your mind as you focused on your work. You stocked the new shipment of books, occasionally checking out a customer that wandered in. A few hours into your shift you were behind the counter organizing the specially ordered books, getting ready to call the customers who ordered them when the bell above the door jingled, signaling another customer came in. Without looking up you greeted them. “Welcome in! Let me know if you need any help, books with a blue sticker are 50% off.”

“I do have a few questions, though not about books.” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up to where the voice was coming from, eyes widening slightly when you noticed the kid from earlier. “I’m sorry?” You said, not sure if you heard him right. He took a step toward the counter, his eyes nervously flitted around the shop, as if he was making sure no one else was in it. “Are you with him? Do you know what he’s done?”

Your blood ran cold at his words. You tried not to let it show, steeling your stomach that had dropped to your feet. You furrowed your eyebrows and cocked your head slightly. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” He sighed and stepped up to the counter. “I saw you with him, you’re dating Shigaraki Tomura right? Do you know who he really is? What he’s done to people?”

Your fist clenched and you gritted your teeth, how did a kid know so much? Unless- fuck. He must be a hero student. Shigaraki mentioned his master had some plans with them, but he didn’t delve much into his work with you. This must be one of the kids. Even so, you’ve practiced for situations like this, though you never expected it to actually come. “I don’t know who that is, You must be mistaking me for someone else, and we are closing soon so if you’re not going to buy anything I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” His face twisted into one of disdain briefly before quickly being replaced with a smile you were sure was fake. “I must have. Sorry to bother you.”

You let out a breath when he left and you quickly locked the doors and turned off the open sign. Your boss wouldn’t be mad if you closed a few hours early, right? You counted the till and finished closing everything up, texting Shigaraki that you were closing and asking if he or someone from the league could come pick you up. He said he was on his way and you bite your lip, trying to figure out if you should tell him or not. You mulled over it shortly before deciding it was best to tell Tomura. The two of you haven’t kept anything from each other, and you didn’t want to start. You waited in the staff room in the back until he texted you he was here.

You met him at the back entrance and hugged him as soon as you saw him. He hugged you back but moved you back after a moment had passed, confusion and worry evident on his features. “What happened?” You gripped his hand tightly as you took the back way to the hideout, worried someone was watching. You recounted your experiences earlier, and Shigaraki’s grip tightened when you described the boy to him. He didn’t say a word until you were back safely to the hideout. Not paying the others mind he led you straight to your shared bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

You looked at Shigaraki worriedly, you knew he could get overwhelmed easily, but he wasn’t scratching at his neck, just standing in the middle of your bedroom, facing away from you. You stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t flinch or push you away you slid it up to his neck and walked in front, hugging him tightly. “Tomura? What’s wrong?” His arms snaked around your waist, hugging you back just as tightly as you buried his face into your neck, inhaling and kissing the skin softly before bringing his head back to look at you. He sighed and cupped your face with one hand, thumb softly caressing your cheek. “Nothing. I’m sorry (Y/N), are you okay?” The corners of your mouth ticked up at his words, he was being unusually soft, he must actually be listening to Kurogiri.

“I’m fine Tomura, he was just being nosy, I’m more worried about you, obviously you recognized his description. Is he one of those students from U.A. you mentioned?” He exhaled and nodded, gaze cast to the floor. “Yes, he’s inherited all for one.” You nodded, Shigaraki had explained the quirk of all might and his master to you before. Though he obviously wasn’t telling you all of it, you didn’t press the matter, he either couldn’t tell you, or it was something you didn’t want to know, either way you’d accept what he told you.

You could tell it was bothering him, so you led him to the bed and laid down, tugging him down with you. He hugged you stomach, laying his head on your chest as you curled into him and ran your fingers through his hair absentmindedly. You felt his shoulders sag, he exhaled deeply as he tightened his hold, nuzzling into your chest. After a few minutes he fell asleep and you soon followed, green eyes still fresh in your mind.

[lokislytherin]

hot stuff, beware!

pairing: waiter!jeon jeongguk x reader

summary: it’s winter, and you’re cold, but the waiter in the cafe is cute as hell and your best friend is a demon in the flesh.

word count: 1670

a/n: mERRY CHRISTMAS @jungkooksbish​ ILY (this is not my best fic tho :( i’m not really too satisfied)

let’s all pretend this entire covid thing is over! i wrote this in summer, hoping quarantine would be over by now, but oh well

enjoy! 

(sorry i gave myself a cameo again, also my jin bias jumped out)

You have to say, winter is not your favorite season.

Of course, having a few whole weeks of break to rest after months of school is nice - the holidays give you the chance to take a break from your hectic schedule, hang out with your friends without having to stress about schoolwork.  As a bonus, you get to wear lovely winter boots that make your long legs look great, and you love wearing large fluffy jackets you can drown in, but...

“Fück,” you groan, “it’s so cold!”

This winter is especially horrible.  As if the cold isn’t bad enough, it’s that time of the month for you, which makes everything a hundred times worse. Not only are you a walking marshmallow, you’re also cranky as hell, with your damn hormones all over the place.  Your cramps are especially bad today, but you’re willing to shove your pain aside in favor for hanging out with your friend.  Months of quarantine have left you itching to leave your house.  You’ve been a couch potato for too long.

You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.  You regret that immediately.  Your hands are cold! “Hug me,” you demand, “I’m cold.”

Your friend tucks themselves further into their numerous amounts of jackets.  “I literally can’t move.” A rather hairless poodle trots by, shivering and whining miserably.  “Ooh, wouldn’t wanna be that guy.”

You crack a smile, amusement warming your cheeks.  “Pfft.”

Both of you squeal in delight and surprise when a gust of warm wind blasts you out of nowhere.  “It’s warm in there!” You shout triumphantly, heedless of the strange looks a few passerby's are throwing in your direction.  You grab your friend by the arm and they yelp, dragged along by your large strides.  “We’re heading in there, and we’re finding the warmest place to sit.”

Both of you speed-walk to the nearest café.  “Did you even need to ask?”

You stumble into the warmth.  The café isn’t particularly big, but it’s warm and the décor is cute and that’s more than enough to make you happy for the time being.

Your friend whistles as they look around.  “So this is the infamous Bring The Sweet, huh?” They glance at the violet fairy lights strung low on the walls.  “Probably looks better at night.”

You raise an eyebrow.  “Why infamous?”

They raises an eyebrow right back, but it’s barely a match against your thick, especially-expressive ones.  “Haven’t you heard?” They lower their voice, looking around like they’ve got a secret.  “Apparently, everyone here is insanely good looking.” You settle in a booth next to the patisserie, and they inhale deeply.  “Food will always be better than guys, though.”

They shoot you a pointed glance, and you shrug.  “I have a weak heart, okay? I catch feels easily.”

One of the pâtissiers has clearly been eavesdropping, because he muffles a laugh, only to be roughly elbowed by his coworker, who hisses at him to stop being nosy and deal with this annoying Karen with me, goddammit.

The clacking of heavy boots alerts you to an oncoming waiter.  You turn around - and scream.  Inwardly.

“Hi there, ladies, what can I get you?” 

Good lord, this waiter is cute.

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest.  His long sleeves cover his muscular arms, and tattoos peek over his knuckles.  It doesn’t match his bunny cheeks and absolutely adorable smile.  

You’re too busy trying to memorize his name tag - Jeon Jeongguk - to realize you’re staring and being very obvious about it.  Seriously, if all the staff in the cafe have the same visual standards...

A throat-clearing and a not-so-subtle kick to the shin jolts you back into reality.  “Hot chocolate!”

Your friend disguises their wheeze of laughter as a sneeze.

“I mean, I’d like a hot chocolate, please!”

Jeon Jeongguk smiles at your blunder, lopsided and amused.  Your heart’s beating so hard you think you might faint.  How could you embarrass yourself like this, in front of a boy as cute as him? 

“One hot chocolate and one latte, coming right up!”

Is it just you, or does he wink before walking off?

Your friend groans, sarcastic but playful.  “Could you be more obvious?”

Pink dusts your cheeks, a dreamy look spreading across your face.  “He’s just so cute...”

Now you’re 100% sure the pâtissier is invested in your conversation.  Apparently, his name is Kim Seokjin.  “Cute?” He waves a hand dramatically.  “That boy is a menace to society! Besides,” he says with an obvious, exaggerated wink, “why would you choose him when I am clearly superior in every aspect?”

“Jin, work!” The tall manager and the other pâtissier bellow at the same time.  Your friend’s shoulders shake as they splutter in silent laughter.

Seokjin, or Jin, as he’s aptly nick-named, turns to your friend.  “Just between you and me, you agree with me, right? Clearly everybody else isn’t willing to admit that I am the one and only Worldwide Handsome.”

Your friend bats their eyelashes innocently, but you know better than to fall for their innocuous façade.  “If I say yes, will you give me free cookies? Those pastries look pretty nice.”

Jin turns away, sulking.  “The youth these days are so disrespectful,” he complains, “Yoongi, don’t you agree?”

Yoongi sighs a breath of relief, muttering a quiet “thank God” under his breath.

“Hah? What did you say?” You can’t help but giggle at Jin’s blatant indignance.  Even your friend is stifling a laugh, barely managing to thank the waiter bringing them their latte.

“At this point, I’m just glad you didn’t offer them a free cookie just to spite me.”

Jin pouts, ignoring the customer outside who discretely takes a photo.  You duck under the camera range, and your friend leans away.  “Aigoo, do you think you mean so little to me? We’ve been doing this together for weeks now!”

Yoongi just gives him a death glare.  “I’m starting to wish you’d given them the cookie now.”

A light tap on your shoulder with a pen makes you jump.  “Excuse me, Miss? Your drink is here.”

You nearly forget how to speak in front of Jeongguk and his dazzling smile.  “Th- Thank you!”

“No problem!” Your drink is probably sweet, but his smile is even sweeter.  “You should be careful, though, it’s hot too.”

You cock your head.  “Too?”

Seokjin smiles arrogantly.  “Of course, he means me, Worldwide Handsome, the best looking man you’ll ever see-”

Jeongguk looks the other man dead in the eye, puts a hand over your shoulder, and makes a sizzling noise.

You squeak.  Your friend shoots you a thumbs up from across the table.  He thinks you’re hot!

A strangled scream makes its way out of Jin’s throat.  It sounds like the distant relative of a boiling kettle.  “You- You little brat!”

“I’m really sorry about him.” Jeongguk’s gentle voice and innocent words don’t match the shït-eating grin on his face, but you find it kind of hot, actually.  “He’s just salty that he thinks he’s so good looking, but in reality, he's probably not gonna get laid before he turns thirty.”

That cracks you up.  You can’t stop laughing, even though it’s at the handsome pâtissier’s expense.  Yoongi can’t seem to stop his unabashed cackling either.  Your friend waves at Jeongguk, a matching devious smirk on their face.  “Excuse me, but can you pass me a pen? And a piece of paper?”

Jeongguk looks confused, but complies.  Your friend scribbles something down, trying hard not to burst out laughing.  Jin, still pouting, shouts when he sees what your friend has written.  He even helps them shield the paper from you!

Your friend passes the paper to Jeongguk, and when he reads the message he turns beet red from his ears to his neck.  “Have fun!”

Jin discretely steals a cookie from the shelf and passes it to your friend, and they exchange fist-bumps while Yoongi isn’t looking.  “Take care of our Jeonggukkie,” he tells you seriously, “he may be annoying but he’s still my big baby.” He cracks his knuckles.  “Lucky for you, I’m a gentleman, but I’m still amazing at trash-talk.”

“Oh,” the other waiter says, peeking over Jeongguk’s shoulder, “are you going on a da~”

Jeongguk manages to keep his fellow waiter at arms reach, even when they struggle against him.  “A- Are you available tomorrow?” He stammers out.  “Your friend said you want to watch the new Wonder Woman movie, and I think she’s pretty cool too... Wanna go together?”

Deep inside, you clutch at your chest and scream.  So cute! “O- Of course!” You haven’t stuttered this hard over a guy in a long while.  “Can I have your number?”

“Jeongguk,” the manager shouts, waving his hands, “and Jimin, the tables aren’t going to wait themselves.” There’s a fond smile on his face.

“Sorry, Joon!” Jeongguk turns back to you.  “I’ve already got your number... I’ll call you later?” 

He’s still blushing, but so are you.  “I’ll be waiting.”

Fück, you think seconds later, too desperate! 

Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice, offering you one last bunny-toothed smile before bouncing off, a hop in his step.

“Seriously, though,” Jin grumbles, “take care of him.”

“I will.”

A few days later, winter is your new favorite season.  You look good in your winter-wear, you’ve got free hot chocolate coupons, and guess what? You’ve scored yourself a hot date, and maybe even a new boyfriend.

Maybe being cold isn’t so bad after all, you think to yourself as Jeongguk lends you his jacket.  What a gentleman.  Your sweet Jeonggukkie.

[donutloverxo]

Salty Baby

Chapter two

Authors note- thanks to @official-and-unstable-satan​ for being my beta. I’ll give you a thank you gift soon enough. No smut today next time i promise. happy reading.

Please do not repost or steal my work. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary- When you moved to New York in hopes of living a glamorous life this isn't what you expected. Steve offers to help you but your pride gets in the way. Pride isn't going to pay your rent and college loans.

Pairing- Steve Rogers x reader

Series warning- smut, sugar daddy/baby themes, angst, salty reader.

Word count- 1.5k

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE

Masterlist

The whole week you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. You went as far as to research him. He had lived such an interesting, accomplished life so many things. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

Steve had texted you the details of the restaurant. When you said your favorite food was pizza he took it upon himself to book a table at a five star Michelin star Italian restaurant. You being an uncultured simpleton said yes without knowing what you were getting yourself into.

You had never been to a fancy restaurant. You didn’t own a single dress. Neither could you afford one right now. There’s no way in hell your sister would let you set foot in her closet let alone borrow a dress.

“Are you coming to the party tomorrow?”, your coworker Alyssa asked. She had perpetually been nosy and annoying. Always oversharing or probing you about your personal life.

“No I have a date”

“Oh wow!”, she exclaimed jumping up and down. “Is it with that tall drink of water who’s totally obsessed with you?”

“Well... yeah”

“What are you going to wear?”, she asked propping herself up on her elbow batting her eyelashes at you.

You sighed deeply. “I don’t have anything to wear.” You considered cancelling just because of that. You didn’t have a lot of free time to date or socialize. But then you have been in New York for over a year and had yet to have a fun night out on the town.

“Well we’re about the same size. How about you borrow a dress of mine? On one condition! You have to tell me literally everything.”

“Why?”, while you weren’t keen on accepting help from her there weren’t many other options.

“Because that’s just what girls do!”

Alyssa set you up with a beautiful red dress that ended just above your knee that showed just a hint of cleavage. ‘To leave something to the imagination' apparently.

She also warned you at least ten times not to put out on the first date. Which you probably weren’t going to anyway. After a few touches of makeup you were good to go.

***

To make sure he doesn’t make a fool out of himself, Steve went to Natasha for some advice on modern dating. She was his only female friend. Probably his only friend.

She convinced him to buy bunch of new clothes and a new haircut. He wasn’t so sure about the new look but from what he had observed he looked quite modern.

“Oh new haircut”, Tony comments on the Steve’s new look when he comes and sits in the conference room in front of him. “You don’t stick out like a sore thumb now”

“Steve has a hot date”, Natasha smirked. “he’s kind of nervous about it”

“There’s no need to be nervous”, Tony drawls out pushing back on his chair. “Women love to talk about themselves. Just ask her about her hopes and dreams. She is a real human woman right?”

“I’m not sure I should be taking advice from you” Neither did he want to discuss his love life before an important meeting. Although he had to agree it was pretty good advice.

“And money. Women like money”, he continued going through his phone

“Don’t listen to Stark’s misogynistic wisdom. Not all girls are after money” Natasha said throwing Tony a glare.

“Yeah he’ll find out for himself soon enough”, he threw back.

Steve knew money played a part in relationships. It provided security. He was grateful about the more than sufficient funds in his bank account. Some from his army back pay and some from working for shield and the Avengers. After the days he had seen during the depression he considered himself very lucky to treat you to an expensive meal or anything else you would like. But at the same time he didn’t want you to be interested in him solely for his money.

He parked the car he borrowed from Tony outside your apartment building. Both him and Natasha had given him long lecture while laughing at him when he said he was going to pick you up on his motorcycle.

When he looked at your red dress he was more than glad that he didn’t bring his motorcycle. He tried to supress the fact that he was so mesmerised by you. He gave you the small bouquet of roses he had bought on his way.

“Wow”, you exclaimed looking at his hair. “It suits you. Can I touch it?”

He couldn’t supress his lovesick grin and shyly nodded his headed. Sighing in content feeling you run your fingers through his shirt hair.

He felt you shifting in your seat on the drive to the restaurant. It somewhat calmed him to know you were just as nervous.

You both took and seats and ordered some food. You were looking around at the decor in awe talking about how beautiful and sophisticated everything is.

He hasn’t been on a date in more than 70 years. He did take your coat but forgot to pull your chair out for you, the hostess beat him to it. In his anxiety he had already knocked down a fork and cringed so hard he was sure you noticed.

He was going picking at his brain to find something to talk about. This was your first date. He had to make a good impression.

“So... what are your dreams?”, not the best start but he could still recover.

You tilted your head at him giving him a small laugh. “Just the normal things, I guess. To have a successful career... to be happy. What are your dreams?”

“I... well I’m not so sure anymore. I used to want the simple typical things. But then I became Captain America...can’t exactly have that now”,

Maybe he shouldn’t have started with something so heavy so early on. When he became Captain America his life didn’t belong to him anymore. That alone would be more than enough to scare you off.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still want those things”, you said lightly shrugging “Why did you? Become Captain America, I mean you’re great at it. But it must be a huge responsibility” you asked as the server placed your food in front of you and filled your glass with wine.

“I’ve just never liked bullies”, he started as soon as the server left “being Cap gave me a chance to fight them”

“That’s ironic. Considering America is the probably biggest bully in the world”, you said with a humorless laugh.

Glumness settled over his face. He nodded at you. He had hoped that 70 years would bring about positive changes in the world. While things were better than before they weren’t nearly as good as he wanted them to be.

“It’s a good thing though. You and your superhero friends can keep the country and the world in check”, you said giving him a cheeky smile stuffing the pasta in your mouth. He returned your smile digging into his food.

As the conversation flowed he found himself relaxing and settling down. It didn’t feel like he had only known you for two weeks, not from how comfortable he felt with you. Talking to you. Holding your hand for a few seconds here and there.

After dessert he drove you back to your home. Walking you to your doorstep something caught his eye at the many mailboxes that aligned the wall.

You looked at the mailbox he was staring at. “That’s my Anna’s married name” You looked back at him. “My sister”, you continued still staring at his confused face.

He gave you a small nod “I work with someone called Rumlow”

“Probably a coincidence”

“Yeah. Thanks for keeping me company tonight doll” As much as he didn’t want the night to end. He had to leave just so he could see you again. Preferably sooner rather than later.

“Doll?”, you asked frowning

“You don’t like it?”, he asked nervously. He still wasn’t sure what was considered appropriate. Everyone told him different things.

“I... well I like my name”, you averted your gaze looking at the tiles on the floor. “Thank you so much for today though. I had fun. Can we do it again?”

“Yes!” He gushed instantly “When are you free I’ll call you or text you?”

You nodded at him playing with the buttons on his shirt before slowly stroking the lapel of his blazer looking up at him with a pout.

Steve maybe clueless when it comes to women but he wasn’t an idiot. He took the hint leaning down to meet you in the middle as you stood on your tippy toes. He lightly pressed his lips to yours.

He had planned to keep it chaste and modest, he was a gentleman after all, but then you slipped your tongue into his mouth and threw your arms around his neck pulling closer to you. There was no holding back now. He slid his hands to your waist and hoisted you off the the ground. Up in the air a few inches to match his heights.

You smiled into the kiss. Stifling your giggle so you didn’t have to break the kiss. Feeling completely pampered and spoiled. He put you down on the ground putting his hands in pockets of his dress or he’d to tempted to steal another kiss.

“Good night” You breathed out after a couple of moments of just staring at each other.

“Good night” He almost called you doll again but stopped himself. Choosing to just say your name. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, he couldn’t help it. And left. Already excited to see you again as soon as possible.

[cobrakiin]

I Wouldn't Fall For Someone I Thought Couldn't Misbehave

Cojeel | Mentioned Lulev + Stingue | Rated: M (Nothing Super Explicit but ends with Very Spicy Fluff)

When Gajeel signed on for helping re-stabilize the Magic Council after the bombings, he didn't expect all the redundant paperwork, nosy coworkers, or the smokin' hot redhead that likes to play dangerous games with him.

And he should really learn to lock his front door... but why should he? He's practically rewarded for leaving it unlocked!

Aka the post-Rhodonite/Road Knight oneshot that my brain decided to inspire me to write by repeatedly chanting "COBRA SHOW HIS LEGGY" repeatedly until I finished writing it.

[AO3] [FFN]

________________________

"Everything okay?"

"Nn?"

"You've been quiet," Levy reiterated.

"'Course I am, I've got all these bullshit reports to do," Gajeel grumbled, motioning to the mess of papers on his desk. "If I'd known helping clean up after the Council was gonna involve so much goddamn paperwork, I would've told 'em I can't read and saved a hundred trees."

"That's very noble of you," Levy said, unconvincingly flat. She leaned her elbow on her desk, resting her chin in her hand. Her honey brown eyes narrowed, watching him suspiciously. "I meant that you haven't seemed to be your usual self recently. You've been way more distracted lately."

He snorted dismissively. "I ain't you. Sue me for findin' never-ending paperwork boring."

"Come to think of it," Levy ploughed on, "It started right after that mission to recapture that Oracion Seis member." She tapped her index finger against her chin, feigning thought. "And he got away…"

Gajeel sharply eyed her.

His position in the New Magic Council was… unique. Gajeel was only handed cases regular Rune Knights couldn't handle - he was a Dragonslayer whose magic made near-unbreakable iron objects and also happened to be an expert tracker, so he became the guy who could track and capture the more elusive, difficult targets.

An escaped, dark mage Dragonslayer? Right up his alley.

Officially… Gajeel had found Cobra, but the sudden issue of an active child trafficking ring took precedence and Cobra 'got away' in the mess of it all.

Unofficially… Gajeel had found Cobra and they'd exchanged blows at first. Testing each other until Cobra's real target had revealed itself. Then the two Dragonslayers tore those kidnappers to shreds. Once the kids were safe with Council forces, Gajeel had managed to track Cobra down again a few remote towns over. (Gajeel tracked him; Cobra didn't 'let' Gajeel find him again - nope! Finding him again was all Gajeel!) And that's where everything got a lot messier and a lot hotter�� and a lot stickier...

Dragons were very much creatures that abided by the Universal Law of the Four F's - food, fight, flee, or fuck - sometimes there was a Fifth F in there, too… something about "Friend" or whatever.

Gajeel meeting Natsu? Fight on sight.

Meeting Laxus? Yeah, there was a Fight, but Gajeel was a little more honest with himself these days that he had actually wanted to Flee the Thunder God.

Wendy and Rogue? He guessed that's where "Friend" came in. Maybe also Food somewhere mixed up in there; they both really needed to eat more. That counted, right?

That blonde idiot mated to his brother? Well… if Sting weren't practically plastered to Rogue's side every waking minute of the day, Gajeel wouldn't mind a Fight with him. (Besides, the guy reminded him too much of Salamander.)

But meeting Cobra? That was the first time his inner dragon skipped past all the other F's - looked right at that cocky little shit-eating elf - and decided on Fuck. And it soon became apparent that Cobra's inner dragon had come to the same conclusion about Gajeel.

It was not at all what he had expected when he'd been handed that case file. He'd expected a Fight and not a Fuck. And while he got both - he was getting plenty of the second one. Even now.

He wasn't stupid: Cobra would do a lot more good out there slaughtering slavers than locked back up for, what? Crimes he committed as a teenager? (Following that mission, Gajeel had checked what was left of Cobra's file after the bombings. While he was sure the redhead had done much worse than what was in there, legally all they could hold him on now was "association with dark mages" and a couple of assassinations they "suspected" him of.) Killing traffickers the Council couldn't (or wouldn't) go after was basically community service, in Gajeel's opinion.

An added plus to all that "community service" was that Cobra sometimes showed up after Gajeel was done with a mission. Always approached him alone, always knew where they wouldn't be seen, always teasing so many somethings without saying anything directly. And sometimes whispered somethings led to somewheres - like the bed of a shitty inn for the night or a tent deep in the woods... or that alley behind that diner that one time.

"It's okay to give yourself some slack, you know," Levy's voice dragged him unwillingly out of his thoughts. "Sure, you didn't catch him. But you saved twelve kids and stopped more from being kidnapped. That's an accomplishment, too!"

Gajeel rolled his eyes. He 'hasn't been himself'... tch, yeah - 'cause he's been getting regularly fuckin' laid! He wanted to brag and practically had to bite his tongue to force himself not to.

"I don't really care that much about catching him," he half-lied. He did want to catch Cobra - to keep chasing and catching him, over and over - he just didn't want to arrest the poison dragon. "I ain't beating myself up over that. I've- Look. It's somethin' else, okay?"

The short bluenette blinked her surprise at him before her mouth widened into a smirk. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay," she said, pretending to go back to her own stack of reports. "I thought you might have been upset about the Cobra situation. But from that reaction, I'd almost guess you were seeing someone."

Gajeel forced a scowl in an attempt to squash the heat rising to his face. "So? Even if I was - and I'm not sayin' I am - it's not a fuckin' crime." Except that in his case, it most certainly was. He snorted indignantly. "I didn't bother you half this much when you an' cosplay girl went away on that gal-pal trip to that couples-only hotspring."

Levy's eyebrows immediately arched at that. "Gajeel, you sent me a text message that contained a book, a bunny, and a scissor emoji. Fourteen times." She shook her head. "Lucy saw it and almost passed out from embarrassment because she doesn't know what a kind, supportive asshole you are."

He spluttered. "Don't remember, didn't happen."

"If you ever start dating someone, just know I'm going to have my revenge. Tenfold."

TWUNNNG.

The sound of a lone, reverberating guitar string being plucked played as his lacriphone buzzed in his pocket. (With his tough skin, he couldn't always feel when his phone vibrated. When he had first started using it, he had the notification sound set to an annoyed cat's meow, but Pantherlily refused to go out on missions with him if he didn't have his phone set to silent. Reluctantly, he'd change it to a guitar twang to appease his friend.)

The lock screen showed he had two messages from a number he didn't recognize.

The first message was an image. Taken from a bathtub... his bathtub! In his house! A leg - warm chestnut skin dripping wet as soap streaked down the exposed, toned thigh - casually hung over the side of his bathtub, suds and the shimmer of the overhead light on the water obscuring anything more tantalizing lurking below.

Light, faint purpling could be seen on the inner flesh of the thigh, and Gajeel's mouth went half-dry at the memory of suckling and pinching the soft skin there between his fangs.

The second message flat-out taunted Gajeel: [You should really learn to lock your doors, Mr. Councilman... who knows what kind of criminal could break in?]

Gajeel could practically feel the blood rushing from his rapidly blanking mind to somewhere much, much lower. He managed to hold back the approving, dragonish purr that threatened to rumble from his very core.

"So you are seeing someone," Levy troublesomely commented over Gajeel's shoulder, causing Gajeel to jolt and nearly fumble his phone onto the floor. That sneaky little shrimp! When the fuck did she even get there?! "You know, you don't have to hide it, we're friends. Who is she?"

Right. The pic was only of a leg. (And it was a fuckin' nice leg, the guy had a great pair of them with a perfect, shapely ass to match.) All Levy had seen was a leg. Sent from a burner phone, not that she'd know that just from the quick peek. Nothing identifiable.

Taking a few calming breaths, Gajeel grit his fangs in a friendly yet dismissive frown. "It's a he, Shrimpy. Don't go makin' assumptions 'bout who I bed." Despite how they picked on each other, she was his friend, and he'd toss her that one bone. "And he would prefer if my work life didn't go poking into our personal life. As a matter of fact, so would I."

Levy feigned thought for a moment. But the teasing, troublesome glint in her eyes remained. "You mean to tell me that he doesn't want to be seen with a grown man that collects Hello Kitten merchandise and refuses to lock his own front door?"

________________________

It was impossible to ignore the other male's scent in his home, warmly dampened by a recent bath. Gajeel tossed his uniform coat on the hook by the door and kicked his boots off in a hurry. The scent carried into the kitchen, where it was obvious a certain home invader had definitely helped himself to the contents of Gajeel's fridge, and he followed it to the living room and to who he knew was waiting there for him.

Gajeel knew who he was dealing with by now: Cobra went where he pleased, when he pleased. Nothing could hold him in one place for long and, knowing how much Cobra valued his freedom, Gajeel didn't care to try. Besides... the redhead was just as enticing whether he was standing in front of him or walking away - neither was a bad view.

And it wasn't a bad view that waited for him at all.

Freshly bathed and stretching the length of the couch lounged a certain redheaded poison dragon. His hair was still damp and… and Gajeel had to blink a few times, because Cobra was wearing his clothes: a loose black t-shirt and pair of gray sweatpants, both a little big on his lithe frame.

"What," the lounging elf playfully sneered, "Did you stop for flowers?"

Gajeel crossed the space between them in two strides and practically dove into the arms of the smaller man. Their mouths met and the battle for dominance began. And Cobra pulled, fought back in their embrace; he didn't lay there passively. Cobra was flexible and could move with ease, but Gajeel had more mass on his side and used it to his advantage as he rolled them both off the couch and onto the carpet.

He managed to pin Cobra beneath him, settling his hips between Cobra's legs, and almost losing all rational thought as he rutted against him.

The iron dragon's lips parted as a husky growl rumbled from his throat and slipped out past his fangs: "So ya broke in, used all my hot water, stole my clothes, and cleaned out my fridge? And you expect me to let you get away with that for free?"

Gajeel was far from mad. Cobra being in his house, seeing Cobra wearing his clothes, knowing his mate was sated by food he provided - it was all pulling right at that primal, possessive side of him in all the right ways.

"Not breaking in if you don't lock your doors," Cobra replied cooly. "You were practically asking for it."

Gajeel wanted to fuck him through the goddamn floor right there and then.

"Let's play a game," Cobra said, mouth still so close that their lips brushed with each word, single violet eye glinting up at the man above him.

"Yeah? Since when do you wanna play games...?"

Smirking, Cobra pulled back, knowing just how to egg Gajeel on: "If you're afraid you'll lose, I could always-"

Gajeel silenced him with a kiss, pressing him firmly against the floor with his body. "I like winning games," he rumbled, "'Specially against you."

"If I can pin you to the couch, I get to fuck you," Cobra explained the first part of the game.

The iron dragon immediately perked to attention. He loved when Cobra spoke dirty, and loved the sound of this game - just as much as Cobra knew he would. "That sounds kinda one-sided," he said, though he shifted his weight in anticipation anyways.

"Let me finish," the redhead scolded him, enjoying the way Gajeel's breath hitched as he pressed himself flush against him. Cobra's hand slid between them, sliding down, and his palm paid special, gripping attention to a growing bulge in Gajeel's pants. "If you can get me upstairs, you can tie me to the bed and do whatever you want to me."

Gajeel clenched his eyes shut as Cobra's hand squeezed suddenly, firmly, as a faint groan escaped him. "Really, you're s-sure?"

"Yeah," Cobra confirmed. It hadn't been too long ago that the thought of being tied up and fucked would have made him recoil, but he trusted Gajeel. He knew Gajeel had a thing for bondage and trusted him to not take things too far - and Gajeel wanted to show him that trust was not misplaced.

Iron claws surfaced and flexed, hungry fangs peeked out of Gajeel's mouth in barely contained urge. "Funny, you gave yourself the closer spot."

"You've got more muscle on your side."

"You've got fancy ears, you know what I'm gonna do," Gajeel pointed out.

Cobra gingerly traced a finger down Gajeel's jaw, fangs glinting in a devilish little grin. "When's that ever stopped you...?"

________________________

"Hn?" Gajeel cocked a studded brow, noting how easily his fingers had gone in.

The tied-up redhead under him still somehow managed to scrape up enough cockiness in his voice: "I was ready for either of us to win tonight."

"Ya mean ta tell me that you were up here pleasing yerself in MY bed and you just let me sit at my desk ALL FUCKEN DAY?!"

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Peter and MJ, coworkers who barely know each other's names, but could draw each other's faces from memory, get stuck in the elevator together at the end of a work day

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! I started writing the fic for this so fast haha

Overheard at the Bugle

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: M Word count: 5394

Summary:

Peter's having a late night at the office and finds out he's not the only one working overtime right before he and the new reporter, Michelle Jones, get trapped in the Bugle's unreliable elevator. He just needs to handle this situation calmly and not do anything to give away his secret identity. It'd be easier to focus on the task at hand if his enhanced hearing wasn't picking up something very unusual coming from the voice recorder in Michelle's bag.

Peter tries to keep a low profile at the Bugle―he doesn’t need anyone giving a second thought to the guy who turns in crisp closeups of Spider-Man week after week―but he didn’t realize he’s invisible. He’s gotta be for the custodial staff to start shutting the lights off on his floor as he’s still sifting blearily through the emails that arrive every five minutes; they’re all stamped with Sent from J. Jonah Jameson’s iPhone. Almost in the dark, Peter snaps his laptop shut, shoves it into his messenger bag, and sprints for the elevators. He’s not scared of the dark (what kinda hero would that make him?), but after lights-out comes locking the doors and he’s not keen on spending the night here. Though his apartment might not be much, it’s his escape from work.

He skids around the corner to find the glow of an elevator that’s just closing.

“Hold it!” Peter shouts, shooting his hand out to part the doors as a frantic tapping comes from inside.

“I was pushing the button…” a woman explains as he steps in.

She turns her head and a spill of wavy brown hair is pushed aside to reveal the face of Michelle Jones. Peter swallows. His gaze goes from her startled brown eyes to her finger, now slipping off the Doors Open button.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, “this thing can be temperamental sometimes.”

“Right. Ground floor, I assume?”

“Yep.”

He moves off to a respectful distance as she presses the button to take them down and the doors close. His heart’s hammering. Though he’s heard the confident tone of her voice plenty, she’s never specifically spoken to him. Nor he to her. Luckily, the walls of the elevator have an intentional burnish with the scuff of wear on top, so there’s no chance of her catching sight of his stare in their reflections. Peter doesn’t mean to, it’s just that she took her hair down. She mostly wears it twisted and pinned at the nape of her neck and probably just shook it out when she got into the elevator, heading home. He gets it. He has his tie jammed into his bag, collar unbuttoned, and sleeves cuffed up to his elbows. Nobody gives a shit about dress code after the boss is gone, especially if they’re working late with no guarantee of overtime pay. Quit looking at her, he thinks, and snaps his gaze down to the floor. He can still smell her shampoo, courtesy of the enhanced senses.

“Sorry about the lights,” Michelle offers, turning her head enough to address him, but not enough to meet his eye because he’s standing beside and slightly behind her. “I let one of the custodians know I was on my way out a few minutes ago. Thought I was the last one left.”

Peter frowns. That’s weird. Not what she says, but that, when she speaks, he thinks he hears an echo. My one-on-one exclusive with Spider-Man, it says, in the voice of the reporter currently sharing the elevator with him. He opens his mouth to ask Michelle if she hears it too and catches himself. That’s a habit he broke years ago, when he realized there are way more things other people can’t hear and it only risks freaking them out and exposing himself to reveal that his senses are more animal than human.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds distractedly.

The first thing to know about Spider-Man is that he’s not a nine-to-five kinda guy. Without regular business hours, he joins me for this interview in my Brooklyn apartment on a Friday evening. The red suit is predictable; the rap he gives my living room window to announce his arrival smacks more of cheeky showmanship. This reporter has to wonder whether, for him, finally submitting to such an in-depth, sit-down conversation is a type of performance. Surely the man behind the mask knows his audience is rapt for any details on the life of a figure who, despite his status as a trusted friend to all, is so much a mystery to this city’s inhabitants.

Ok, what? Peter’s brain is spinning like a frisbee. He’s never given the kind of interview Michelle’s disembodied voice is describing, and definitely never given it to her. He’s never been to her apartment, doesn’t even know where she lives, and certainly isn’t eager to invite questions in some sort of exposé. Maybe what he’s hearing are just the notes she’s preparing for a future interview. Did Jameson assign this? He’s certainly nosy about Peter’s alter ego, but the tone of the piece is more curious than their boss’s usual style―scathing, obstinate, malicious. She sounds intrigued by Spider-Man, not like she’s luring him into a trap.

The elevator jolts. It grinds. It halts. Michelle makes a sound of distress and taps Doors Open. She looks at him over her shoulder, face worried but also… flushed? Maybe she gets anxiety attacks.

“It’s alright,” Peter tells her, one foot in Spider-Man’s De-escalation Mode. He raises his hands in hopefully a calming gesture and her eyes dart to them, gliding over his bare forearms. Crap, does he seem threatening? He lowers his hands.

“I know it’s alright,” she assures him. “I just… who wants to be stuck at work?”

Michelle gives him a slight smile to accompany her joke and he returns it.

“Got a story to work on?” Peter asks.

His motive is partly to understand the narration he heard (which is still going on, a murmur beneath their much louder voices), but also to focus her on something besides the fact that the elevator is not moving.

“Just filed one actually, so, you know, theoretically free for the weekend.” She makes a phonily excited face that emphasizes how very not-free they are.

The continued jokes are a good sign that she isn’t overly alarmed. He’s still stumped about the story though. As she pulls her cell phone from the large leather bag over her arm, Peter tunes into the background noise. With the elevator silent, that’s just the recording of Michelle’s voice.

‘…later than I thought you would be,’ I inform him. He makes his excuses and where I would normally be annoyed by a failure to be punctual, I find myself charmed by New York’s man in red. I wonder where his adventures have taken him tonight, if his actions have prevented violence, saved lives. If his mere presence has inspired onlookers and comforted those who have lost faith in our traditional systems of stagnant courts and killer cops…

There’s no way Jameson can be aware of the spin she’s putting on this. Spider-Man’s no hero in the eyes of the editor-in-chief, just a menace, a pest, a cockroach climbing up the pantleg of the people who are supposed to enforce justice. That’s not the only thing that’s confusing. Peter’s fairly hung up on the fact that she’s conducting this interview like he’s there. Could just be her process. Playing the whole thing out to get a feel for however long it might be, where small talk might hypothetically cut into her list of prepared questions.

“No service,” Michelle huffs, tucking her phone away again. “You?”

Peter, startled, gets his phone out to check, though he already knows this elevator is a dead zone. He shakes his head. Frustrated, she moves her hand to jab the Help button. The one meant to connect the rider with 911.

“Don’t bother,” he coaches when she pushes it a second time after nothing happens. “I think that thing’s just for show.”

“Oh yeah?”

She’s arch, irritated. Peter stays calm, knowing it’s not really meant for him. People can get testy in stressful situations. Being trapped in an elevator is one of those. Not for him. For him, a stressful situation is a bullet graze or leaping from one office tower to the next and realizing in midair that he’s out of webs. Trapped in an elevator is a relaxing start to his weekend in comparison.

“Jameson never lets anybody inspect it. He’s a control freak, scared of spies. He thinks somebody’s gonna bug the elevator,” he clarifies to Michelle’s raised eyebrows.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, have you met him?”

She exhales a laugh at that.

…invite him to get comfortable, I’m surprised at him choosing a seat at the opposite end of the couch I’ve just sat down on. I’d intended the chair across from me and think that should be obvious to him. Perhaps it is. The mask doesn’t make him the easiest man to read.

“So we’re just fucking stuck because Jameson’s scared of, who? Reporters from other papers? The CIA? Edward Snowden?”

A tingle goes down Peter’s spine when she swears. She’s commanding. Does she know that or is working under Jameson putting her qualities in the shadow of his, wielded for domination and intimidation?

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he says.

“This button’s never worked?” Michelle checks, leaning her knuckle into it to keep it depressed. “This is a major safety issue. Imagine there was a fire right now.”

“You should call somebody and report him.”

He can’t help being playfully sarcastic and thinks, for a second, that she’s going to bite his head off for it by the way her eyes flash. Then he thinks he might not mind. Then she laughs and he tries to take a normal breath.

“What do we do?” she wants to know.

What do they do? What do Peter and the woman he’s eyed across the office since she arrived at the Bugle two months ago do? Forced together by unhealthy work hours and a broken elevator? He shifts from one foot to the other.

“Hope the custodian decides to watch for you to leave the building and comes looking when you don’t.”

“I hate that plan,” Michelle informs him.

“Go ahead and come up with another one,” he invites earnestly.

She turns so she’s facing him and lets her back slump against the wall of the elevator. She shrugs to ease her bag off her shoulder. The strap tugs a little at her emerald-green blouse before it slides down her arm. She sets it on the ground by her feet. It looks like she’s doing what he suggested. Now it’s just Peter and her quiet voice, which he can tell is coming from the bag. Michelle must have a recorder in there. Probably thinks she shut it off, but the volume’s just really low.

‘…when you’re out there?’ I have to inquire of him. At his easy laugh, I shelter behind my coffee cup, taking a slow sip. ‘Lonely?’ Spider-Man repeats. ‘In a city this size?’ He’s being coy now. I’m certain he knows what I want and it’s the dare implicit in this exchange that prompts me to press him. ‘Not lonely for just anybody,’ I begin…

Crossing his arms, Peter rests against the back of the elevator, trying to be subtle as he tips his head to the side to hear more. He’s getting into this story now, even if it’s not real. For the first time, he’s starting to see how Spider-Man might be a pretty compelling guy. He likes this person she seems to think he is; he’s more interesting coming from her lips. Of course, not as interesting as she is, with her leading questions and the agenda she’s voicing for her recorder if not for the man she’s interviewing.

“Have you worked at the Bugle long?”

His gaze twitches over to Michelle’s face when she speaks.

“Since right outta college. Why?”

“Just wondered if this had happened to you before,” she explains, waving her hand at the elevator’s useless panel of buttons. “And I knew you were here before me.”

“You did?”

He shouldn’t sound so breathlessly hopeful. Obviously, she knew he was here first. Michelle could’ve noticed him one time in the past two months and seen him do anything to indicate that he’d been here longer―escape Jameson’s office just before he could get roared at, jiggle the plug to make the coffee machine in the breakroom work. But Peter does sound that way because of her tone. She says it like an admission and she breaks eye contact.

‘…you don’t want one?’ He declined my offer of coffee once, but I think he may change his mind now that we’ve warmed up to each other a little. Spider-Man twists and I can feel him regarding me from behind those large white eyes. ‘I’d have to take the mask off to drink it,’ he points out. I promise that I’m not trying to blow his cover, just be hospitable. Besides, I counter, he doesn’t need to expose his whole face. The mouth will do.

“So, has it?” she counters, ignoring his question.

“Has what?”

“Has it happened to you? The elevator shutting down?”

“Oh, uh, once or twice, but it was always in the middle of the day and there were a bunch of other people in the elevator with me, so it didn’t go unnoticed long. Jameson hassled me for missing meetings while I was trapped though.”

“It’s not like you could help it,” Michelle says.

“True, but…” Peter shrugs. “I learned to take the stairs.”

“Bet you’re wishing you took them tonight.”

He laughs.

“Not really. I mean, uhhh…” The sound drags out embarrassingly as he can’t manage to pull his gaze away from her surprised face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, saving him. “I think you’re keeping me saner than I would be alone.”

Right. That’s all. Which is enough, really. He’s glad to be of service, especially if that service is helping her not totally lose it.

“No problem.”

‘…because I can do more good if I’m an anonymous symbol,’ Spider-Man tells me. His body language has changed, shifting forward with the urgency of his words. ‘But some people must know,’ I say. ‘Your real identity can’t be a secret from everyone.’ ‘No Spider-Man is an island?’ is his clever rejoinder. I agree with absolute sincerity. ‘Even the strongest person needs to let others get close to them,’ I insist. Where he’s tugged his mask up, his mouth shifts from a wry grin to thoughtful softness. I find my gaze lingering there.

“Any ideas?” Peter asks, feeling hot.

The temperature inside the elevator is moderate, but Michelle’s words, as she draws him deeper into her story, are making him surreptitiously flap his collar to encourage air down his shirt. He’s starting to feel like this is something he’s not supposed to hear. Alright, it’s likely that nobody was supposed to hear it if these are just her rough notes before composing an article. Whatever. What Peter’s realizing is that maybe nobody’s supposed to hear this interview ever. The questions are too personal, too human-interest for the kind of paper they work at, and the way she depicts her responses is… intimate. Full of sensory details. It’s as though he’s in this apartment with her, sipping at her coffee, staring at her down the length of the couch. A Friday night, her voice said, and tonight’s one of those. How would Michelle Jones feel if she knew she was spending an evening with Spider-Man right now?

“I think the custodians would’ve made some noise by now if they knew anybody was in here and if they haven’t realized we’re missing, then I’m not sure anyone else will. I don’t know about you, but I live alone. I probably won’t be missed tonight because my friends will just assume I’m working and turned my phone off. I’ve been considering,” she goes on, “that we’ll either have to climb out the top and hope we’re close to the doors aligning with one of the floors or get these doors open. Either way, we need something to open the doors. Personally, I didn’t pack my crowbar.”

Peter stares at her in awe for a minute. She really did come up with a plan. Several plans. He knows he can help―he doesn’t need a crowbar to part the metal doors―but he can’t just wrench the doors open with his bare hands and act like it’s no big deal. He’ll need an explanation, which can’t be the truth. Revealing himself at the Bugle? To a Bugle reporter? Seems like the worst possible scenario. He doesn’t think Michelle is anything like Jameson in her motivations or basic moral compass (fine, he doesn’t know her, but that’s the sense he gets), and yet, she works for him. It’s her job to give him something fresh, something captivating, and he’s just not sure that her fascination with Spider-Man would be enough to make her want to spare Peter Parker the nightmare of his identity being splashed across Monday’s front page.

“Me neither.”

“This isn’t sustainable,” she mutters. He looks at her with concern. Louder, she adds, “If I get restless enough to climb through the ceiling, promise you won’t look up my skirt when I ask you to give me a boost.”

“Promise.”

Michelle assesses his face and he tries to appear his most transparent and trustworthy. Gradually, her eyes move away from his, but he’s still watching her and sees her stare at his throat, then his chest, and down. Whoa, Peter tells himself. Not a good idea. This woman might be a little hung up on Spider-Man, maybe even has a crush, but you and him are two different people.

Meanwhile, on the recording: …switch it off for him, holding the voice recorder up so he can clearly see that I’ve done it. ‘There,’ I say, ‘no one’s listening now. It’s just you and I.’ ‘So I’m supposed to feel closer to you without it?’ Spider-Man asks. ‘Don’t you?’ is what I want to know.

“Screw it,” Michelle decides a minute later, standing up straight. “I’m getting us out of here. Can you pick me up?”

Peter drops his messenger bag in an instant.

“Yep.”

He watches while she kicks off her black patent high heels (maybe picturing her pressing one of those bad boys into his chest), then they both tip their heads back and examine the ceiling panels.

“Front corner, maybe?” she suggests. “Just so I’m as close as possible to where the doors will hopefully be and I don’t have to wobble around up there in the elevator shaft.”

“Sure,” Peter agrees.

They cross to the appropriate corner and he bends his knees, locking his fingers to offer her a step. She grabs his shoulder for balance and lifts her foot, about to place it in his braced hands, then pauses.

“I’m Michelle, by the way.”

“Peter.”

“I know.”

He’s baffled and flushed as they shake hands, but he can’t dwell on it because her fingers are digging into his shoulder right before she presses her foot into his swiftly repositioned hands and hops up. She gives a small shriek as her body wavers before steadying herself with her palms against the ceiling. Peter drops his gaze. He can tell by her knees that she’s crouching slightly and he’s not glancing any higher than that. Her skirt falls to just below her knees and, as they lean into each other to keep her up, he ends up with her thigh pressed against the side of his face, the black fabric of that skirt under his cheek.

“You got me, right?”

“Right,” he says, careful not to ramble and divulge how little effort bearing her weight requires.

“Ok, I’m going to try to get a grip on this panel and slide it open.”

“Sounds good.”

Peter is looking straight across at the wall. He is not looking higher than her knees. He has no thoughts about the scent of her skirt and no theories on whether the lavender comes from her fabric softener or lotion that he’s also not imagining her rubbing into her skin before she got dressed for work this morning. She sways in his grip and he braces his arms more firmly, unable to do anything about her leg against his face. Michelle grunts and her body heaves as he hears her shift the ceiling panel. Her toes curl around his fingers. He exhales in relief; if she can figure this out without him needing to call on his super-strength, awesome. She goes home with a sense of accomplishment and he goes home maintaining his secret identity.

“Ok,” she calls down. “It’s open. Lift me higher.”

“Higher,” Peter mumbles to himself. Then, to her, “Uh, I might have to, um, hold your legs. But I won’t look at anything, I swear.”

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

Her voice is wry and he chuckles.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Michelle says.

With a bounce of his shoulders, he hoists her up. For a minute, he keeps hold of her foot, but then one of his hands clutches the back of her calf while the other cups her heel. Her weight pulls away from him as she hauls herself up through the ceiling.

“Is there a door?” he asks.

“It’s dark… Can you get my phone? It’s right inside my bag.”

“Ok, hang on. Literally,” Peter adds.

“Ha ha,” Michelle responds dryly, but when he gently releases his grip on her, he finds that she’s able to hold herself in place with her elbows. Her legs dangle and he hurries.

Their conversation and the rush of the action they just took concentrated his senses. Unfortunately, he’s now holding her work bag open and the sounds from her voice recorder are pouring out louder than ever. Still too quiet for her though, at this distance.

‘…didn’t think a suit that tight could hide much, but I’m still pleasantly surprised.’ ‘What, this?’ Spider-Man teases. I abandon my coffee cup and push my reading glasses up into my hair as I set my notes aside to lean in. He might as well have a web stuck to my chest. His awareness of his own physicality is evidently as precise afterhours as it is while he’s on duty because he skims a hand down his abdomen, appearing to almost accidentally hook his thumb in the band of his boxers. ‘You want the real scoop?’ he asks me, prying the elastic away from his skin provocatively. The taste of coffee is still thick and rich in my mouth when I encourage him: ‘Go on, Spidey. Don’t stop there…’

Peter almost drops the bag.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah! Yes. Mhmm, I’ve got it.”

He returns to Michelle and wraps one arm around her legs. With his other hand, he lifts the phone towards her. Her fingers clasp his, then locate the phone and take it from his grip. He holds still while she turns on her flashlight and has a look around. So, Michelle doesn’t have a little crush on Spider-Man. She’s hot for Spider-Man. Which means she’s hot for Peter, in a way. Except not, he reminds himself, because you’re just her silent co-worker. You’re never going to―

“FUCK!”

“What? No. What? What is it?”

“The next door’s way too high,” she says. “We must be almost lined up with one.” She taps him on the head with her phone and he slips it into his pocket for safekeeping as he prepares to help her down.

“We’ll find another way.” Will you? he asks himself.

“Quick question.”

“Uh huh?”

“How do I do this?”

He’s holding most of her weight now and, pressing a hand to flatten her skirt against her leg, chances a peek up at Michelle. Her head’s still through the ceiling, arms still braced over the open panel. What would definitely work would be her just letting go and him catching her in his arms, but maybe that’s too much faith for her to put in a random guy from work. Although he’s capable of lifting her, catching her falling body is a completely different thing. As with their escape in general, they don’t have a ton of options.

“Just let go slowly,” Peter coaches. “I’ll adjust how I’m holding you and you can sort of slide down my body.” The awkwardness in his tone garbles the last part.

“I can what?”

Dammit. She’s waiting to come down. He clears his throat.

“Uh, slide down my body?”

Her anxious laugh disappears into the elevator shaft.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” he hears her hiss to herself. To him, “Yeah, ok. I’m coming down now.”

“I have you.”

Peter’s counting on the giddiness of being returned to the ground from a height to distract her from the too-skillful way he maneuvers his hands on her. Making sure her skirt never gets rucked up, not placing his hands anywhere truly unforgiveable. He holds her hips, not her ass, and turns his head so his face doesn’t wind up in her crotch. He’s really gentleman-ing his butt off when the recording in her bag calls out, ‘Harder, Spider-Man!’

His hands slip. A second ago, his head was level with her stomach and now his face is buried in her chest, the cup of her bra pressing back against his temple. Immediately, Peter tilts back from his shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry―”

“I’m ok, I’m good,” Michelle protests as they wriggle together to set her down. He forces her phone back into her hand.

“Your skirt was slippery…”

“I know. You did great, Peter, seriously.”

“…and I heard…”

He shuts his mouth fast, but her flustered expression dissipates as her probing gaze finds his eyes.

“What did you hear?”

Peter pushes at his sleeves and refuses to answer. Her powers of deduction don’t rely on him at all. She whirls to her bag, crouching and dropping her phone in to extract the voice recorder instead. Holding it to her ear in investigation, Michelle probably hears the words By the time he has me on all fours, I can tell that Spider-Man’s on board with my remark on the importance of letting someone be close to him at the same volume he does standing three feet away. He’s basically plastered himself to the opposite wall. She looks about as mortified as he figures he’d feel if he made a recording of a very personal fantasy and someone listened to it. Man, should he have just told her at the beginning? There didn’t seem to be a way to handle it well.

Michelle stops the playback and puts the recorder away. The elevator is abruptly quiet without the whisper of her voice. All the while, Peter’s staring at her, seeing what she’ll do. The most probable conclusion for her to come to is that he heard a single sound, a blip, and has no clue what the recording contained. The way she stands, leaving her bag on the floor, seems to confirm this. But she doesn’t look over at him.

With a sigh, he decides to do what Spider-Man would do and put the person in need first. What Michelle Jones needs from him is a way out of this embarrassment, and this elevator. Peter walks to the doors and stamps his hands to the metal. First, a little compression to get a good grip and then… Scrunching his face with the effort, he puts his back into it, forcing the doors apart. Next, he does the same thing to the outer doors, separating them to reveal a darkened hallway. The floor’s about three feet higher than where he’s standing inside the elevator, but that’s nothing for someone to scramble through and head for the stairs.

He steps away to let her go first. She doesn’t move.

“Should we talk about that?” Michelle asks, pointing at the doors, after what has to be a full minute of her studying him.

“I�� work out? A lot. I work out a lot,” Peter says with more conviction on every try.

“And about this?” She grabs her recorder and waves it at him.

“You… use that to, uh, keep track of your ideas.”

She steps up to him and, without dropping her gaze from his face, reaches out to touch his wrist. Her fingers move from tracing his skin to ringing his web-shooter. He wears them to work pretty often, but always covers them with the cuffs of his shirt. Which he rolled up. Because he thought he was alone. There’s no reason for her to know what they’re for though, right? They could be medical alert bracelets, or just jewellery. It’s not like they’re branded with ‘Spider-Man’s Web-Shooter, 1 of 2.’

“You wanna talk about these?”

Peter opts out of replying.

“I know what they are,” she says. “What they’re for. I’ve researched you, looked at a lot of video footage and photographs, many of which I think you took, which seems equal parts fucked-up and brilliant. I noticed them right after we got stuck.”

“I have… a severe peanut butter allergy,” he says unconvincingly.

“Bummer,” Michelle shoots back, unsympathetic. Yeah, it was a terrible lie, but he’s gotta at least be able to say he tried to deny her accusations.

“It is, it is a bummer,” Peter agrees, nodding. He licks his dry lips to wet them. “Sometimes, I have such a craving for a PB and J and I can’t―”

She leans in and gives him a quick kiss.

“I’m… confused,” he admits.

“I know who you are,” she begins. “You don’t have to say it out loud, on the off chance somebody really has bugged this piece of shit elevator, but your severe peanut butter allergy bracelets, in combination with how you opened those doors, are pretty good evidence when compared with my research. So, if I take my supposition as fact―”

“Peanut butter…”

“Save it. If you are who I strongly believe you to be, then you were able to hear god knows what on that recording. Which I am an idiot for forgetting to erase or record over. Meant to do it last night… ugh, anyway. The important thing is that you heard it and you didn’t bolt through those doors the second you got them open. Why.”

When Michelle’s on a roll, he learns, her questions come out as demands. He quits trying to sneakily unfold his cuffs in a way-too-last-ditch attempt at concealing the truth.

“Ladies first?” he tries.

“I’m not going to use what I know. I promise you that. You’re a good person and as far as I’m concerned, your secret’s your secret. You do a hell of a lot more for this city than Jameson does with the trash he prints, my own contributions obviously excluded. Now I’m the only one held over a barrel here, Peter. You heard what you heard. Tell me why you stayed.”

“You needed me.”

“After you got the doors open.”

Peter thinks. Not just about whether or not to speak, but if he’s ready to say what he’s about to say.

“I needed you. It’s like what you said in the story―I mean, the recording. I don’t let many people get close to me.”

“Why would you let me be one of those people? It took being stuck together before we even had our first conversation.”

“A good feeling, I guess,” he explains. “Plus, you’re kinda my dream girl and I just found out that, at least on the physical side of things, you’re really into me. Like, really into me.”

“You can shut up about that now,” Michelle says.

“Why? You didn’t. You had so much to say.”

“Hmm, maybe I like Spi- I mean, that guy better when I’m speaking for him. Fortunately for you,” she says smugly, “I’ve thought Peter Parker the photographer was cute since the day I started working here.”

“That is news to me.”

Michelle wraps her arms around his neck, smirking as she leans her body against his.

“I was getting around to telling you. Are you surprised?”

“It’s a real scoop,” Peter acknowledges as his hands feel out the lithe shape of her back through her blouse.

“Oh my god, you heard that part? That part? How could―”

He more or less molds his mouth to hers. She more or less gives him a tour of her Brooklyn apartment before they spend the night in bed together and rise to a hot cup of coffee.

more clichéd tropes and prompts

[thebulletproofbangtanboys]

Sunshine (Counselor!Hoseok x Counselor!Reader)

Summary: Reader and Hoseok are working at a summer camp as counselors for the fourth year in a row. Little do they know, they have been falling in love with each other just a little bit more each summer.

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: sex in a field, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, Hoseok being sweet about it the whole time

Summer had always been your favorite season. The way the hot air made your skin tingle, the smell of sunscreen, the constant availability of the outdoors, and most of all, Jung Hoseok. He was a counselor at Camp Bangtan, a summer camp where you also worked as a counselor.

Hoseok was not only great with the kids, he was also very kind to everyone else. He was the sweetest man you had ever met. He was very gentle and funny, and his boisterous laugh could be heard from all the way across the camp, even over Camp Counselor Jin’s windshield wiper laughs. The way Hoseok smiled at you every morning from across the mess hall always sent your face alight. The kids would repeatedly ask you why your face was so red, and you would reply with “It’s just a little sunburn” every time. Of course, being the naive, young kids they were, they would believe anything you told them.

It would be an understatement to say that you had a crush on Hoseok. You had been working with him for the past four summers, and it wasn’t until a few weeks before the beginning of this season at the camp that you realized how excited you were to see Hoseok again. However, you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you since he treated you just as nicely as he did everyone else. He treated you no differently than any of his other female coworkers. In fact, he actually seemed to give another female coworker, Jisoo, special treatment. It was like he was always trying to be around her, making her laugh, or her making him laugh louder than any of his best friends could.  They tended to be joined at the hip most days, it seemed.

It didn’t completely discourage anything, but it did make it more difficult. Every time you had gathered up the courage to tell Hoseok how you truly felt about him, he and Jisoo would be joking around or he would be too busy with the campers. The times you were alone with him, it was for very brief periods of times, and it only seemed to be when you two were putting out the embers of the bonfires every night.

You were now laying in your camper cot in your cabin with your group, thinking about how you failed to talk to him yet again tonight. Not another day was to go by without you telling him, you decided. Tomorrow was a free-for-all day, meaning that the kids could do whatever they wanted, and the camp counselors could lay back a little bit. All of that meant more free time. You were going to find Hoseok and tell him how you truly felt, no matter if he was with his friends or Jisoo. You would pull him aside and get your feelings out, and that was final.

The next day rolled around, and it was shortly after lunch when you decided to go look for Hoseok. You first went by the lake. Most of the kids were off swimming, and Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi said they had not seen Hoseok.

After that, you then went to the sand volleyball court where he was talking to Jisoo. Of course, he was. You slinked behind a tree, hoping to not be seen and thought to be stalking. That was exactly what you were doing, though, but it wasn’t like you were trying to plan their demises. You were just there to see if Hoseok would stick around or leave. So much for braving up and telling him no matter what.

As you stood there, trying your best to not be seen by anybody, you also tried zoning in on their conversation. Why would you have to be bored simply because you were standing there? You were a little bit nosy anyhow, so listening in was nothing new for you.

“I just don’t see what is so difficult about it, Hobi,” Jisoo said, keeping an eye on her campers as they bumped the ball around.

“Everything about it is difficult!” Hoseok argued back.

He didn’t seem angry, just perplexed. You wondered what they could have been arguing about. However, you didn’t get the chance to find out. A few campers had walked on the trail behind you, and one of them had noticed you.

“Ms. (Y/N), what are you doing?” a voice asked.

You jumped and so did your heart. You quickly turned around and placed a hand over your heart. It was just one of the smaller campers, maybe around eight years of age.

“Oh! Jae-hyun. I didn’t realize you were there. You scared me,” you said with a light laugh as your heart rate began to finally slow. The small child still gave you a bewildered look as to what you had actually been doing. “The owner just wanted me to check on the counselors and see how they were acting around one another. You know, just making sure that they are getting along.”

You really hoped Jae-hyun and the older camper couldn’t see through your lie.

The older one, Kang-min, about age twelve, gave a scoff. “Well, I can tell you right now that Counselor Taehyung and Counselor Jungkook are getting along really well.”

“Yeahhhh,” Jae-hyun interjected. “They were kissing alone in the cabin. I didn’t know that two boys were allowed to kiss!”

“Of course they can, you idiot. Boys and boys can kiss just as much as boys and girls.” The two then forgot about you and started to walk away, still carrying on conversation.

You sighed in relief. They were finally gone. You could now go back to watching Jisoo and…apparently not Hoseok. He had walked off since Jae-hyun and Kang-min had interrupted you. You groaned and gave a simple stomp. Great. Now, you had to go all over the camp to look for him again.

You looked around the surrounding areas in hopes that he hadn’t gone far. There was no sign of him. As much as you hated to do this, you knew that you had to ask Jisoo. You sighed to yourself before coming out from behind the tree and walking up to the sand court, calling her name. When she heard you, she turned around, and you began to jog up to her.

“Do you know where Hobi went?” you asked her.

“He went looking for you, actually. I think he went up near the meadow.” A smile then formed across her lips. “Good luck.”

You gave her a light smile in return. “Thanks,” you said before heading up towards the meadow.

It was a five-minute walk to the meadow, and the entire time you were walking, you were also thinking about why exactly Hoseok needed you. Advice on how to ask out Jisoo? Sure, you set up Taehyung and Jungkook, who were really good friends with Hoseok outside of camp. But what was so difficult for him? It apparently had nothing to do with Jisoo. But what could he possibly want from you?

Your mind was running wild until you reached the edge of the meadow, where Hoseok was just walking your way down the path. He had a solemn look on his face, almost as if he was disappointed.

“Hoseok,” you said, getting his attention.

He looked up at you, and his eyes seemed to instantly brighten. A huge grin spread over his face, showing off his blindingly white teeth.

“(Y/N),” he said.

“Jisoo said you were looking for me?”

A blush dusted his cheeks now. “Uh, yeah. Can…can I talk to you?” He threw his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing back to the meadow of yellow flowers.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” The two of you trudged up the small hill and to the center of the field. When the two of you got there, he turned towards you. He reached out to grab your hands, but decided against it, putting his hands back to his sides. You shrugged it off and asked him, “So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

The blush returned to Hoseok’s cheeks, and he moved his mouth, but nothing came out. You tilted your head to him in confusion, signaling for him to go on.

He took a deep breath, gathered all of his courage, and said, “I really like you, (Y/N).”

“I like you, too, Hoseok.” You gave a small laugh. What was he trying to get at?

“No, (Y/N), I really like you. Like…like like. God, I sound like a preteen.” He put his face in his hands in embarrassment.

“I like like you, too, Hoseok,” you said lightly with a smile.

Hoseok peeked through his fingers before completely uncovering his face. “Wait. What? Seriously?”

“Yeah. Honestly, I think I should be the one surprised here. By the looks of it, I would have thought that you had feelings for Jisoo.”

“Jisoo? Nononono. She’s my cousin.”

“Wait. What? Your cousin? You’re kidding me, right?” Now, you were the one to be embarrassed.

Hoseok shook his head. “I’m completely serious, (Y/N). She’s my cousin.”

“Ugh. How did I not know this?” you groaned.

“Ahhhh, (Y/N). It’s okay. Not even all my friends really know.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You stepped up to him and placed your forehead on his chest and started laughing. “I can’t believe I was an idiot.”

You felt Hoseok lift your chin up with his index finger. “A beautiful idiot,” he said, a soft smile gracing his soft pink lips.

You knew it was a little soon, but at this point in time, you didn’t care. You stood up on your tip-toes and gave him a light kiss on the lips. Hoseok’s kiss back was a little more passionate than you would have expected from him, but you weren’t going to complain.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, (Y/N),” he said against your lips.

“Me, too, Hobi,” you responded. “Now, shut up and kiss me some more.”

And so he did, and the kisses became more fervent with each passing second. Before you knew it, you were laying on your back with Hoseok on top of you. The way the sun shone through his black hair and little fly-aways made him look like an absolute angel. You ran fingers through his hair, which was really soft, before you landed right at his hairline on his neck. You brought him closer, and he started kissing and sucking on your neck.

You were trying so hard to not let out a moan, but your efforts were fruitless. It was small, but apparently still loud enough for Hoseok to hear. This made him suck just a bit harder and go a little bit lower. In response, your moans only became louder.

“Does it feel good, princess?” he asked.

“Mm,” was the only thing you could coherently formulate at the time.

He slipped his hand up under your shirt and over your stomach, lightly lifting up the fabric. Hoseok then dipped his head down and began to kiss your now exposed flesh. You laughed lightly and breathed in as his eye lashes brushed your skin, tickling you. His kisses moved upwards, as did your shirt. Within a few moments, your shirt had been discarded a few feet away. His hands ran up over your ribs and up under your bra, brushing the underside of your breasts. He was being so sweet.

However, you now felt every little aspect of your bra: the loose wire jabbing you in the ribs, the tightness of the side straps and how they itched, the shoulder straps digging in. Despite having just lost your shirt, you still felt really exposed to Hoseok. You had been in less clothing than this when all of you went swimming in the lake, so you didn’t know why you felt this way. You moved slightly, signaling to Hobi that you were about to sit up. You then quickly, without a single thought, took off your bra and tossed it over to where your shirt was.

You stayed leaning up with one arm and snaked the other around Hoseok’s neck. You gave him a moment to admire you before you kissed him hungrily on the lips. The passion got the both of you, and you two were losing clothes faster than you could believe, all without realizing it. You only knew you were in the full nude when a gust of wind flew through the field, ruffling the flowers and making them graze your exposed buttocks. You had been just so caught up in the moment of love and lust and ecstasy and skin and the explosion of pent up sexual tension.

“God, (Y/N), you are just so beautiful,” Hoseok whispered in your ear as his fingers gently grazed over your thighs. His nose was currently nuzzled in the crook of your neck where he would every so often give a light kiss. His kisses slowly began to travel downwards. First, over your collarbones, then your breasts, ribs, tummy, inner thigh, until he was right there.

He kissed your womanhood lightly, almost as if he were trying to tease you.  

“Hobi,” you practically whined.

“I’m getting there, princess. Don’t you worry,” he said smoothly.

He then placed the palms of his hands on the inside of either thigh, exposing you even more to him. Suddenly, you felt him lick you up and down before sticking his tongue inside of you. Your breathing hitched just a little. You weren’t a virgin for sure, but never before had a guy ever really paid attention to you. All of the guys you had been with before were just concerned in getting themselves off. But, Hobi? No. He wanted you to feel great, too. He truly presented that when he inserted a finger inside of you.

You gave out a little whine of surprise. He started sucking on your clit before he added another finger. He moved his fingers in a “come hither” motion, hitting your G-spot just right. You moaned in delight, your breath hitching once more. You arched your back in pleasure as he started pumping his fingers in and out while still curling his fingers.

You could feel your peak coming forth as your feet began to go numb. The feeling crept up your legs until it slammed into your core, making your walls pulse around his fingers and your legs to shake. Your vision went blurry, and your breathing became shallow. It wasn’t until after you rode out your high that you could see straight. Your legs still felt weak, and your laugh was just as bad.

“How did it feel, princess?” Hoseok asked you.

You gathered up the strength and gave out a light laugh before saying, “Holy shit, Hoseok. No guy has ever made me feel that way. That was…amazing to say in the least.”

“Well, those other guys just don’t know how to treat a lady properly then.” He kissed you, and you could taste your juices on his lips. You moaned lightly into his mouth.

When you two broke apart, you whispered to him, “Let me pay you back.”

“(Y/N), this is all for you. I don’t need anything in return.”

“Please,” you practically begged.

“If you insist.” A cocky little smirk now replaced the usual soft and comfortable smile.

You sat yourself up as Hoseok leaned off of you, and you practically crawled to him.

His veiny cock was already standing to attention like a good little soldier. Well, you wouldn’t call it small. It was quite large. This man was just full of surprises. The tip of his dick was the same color as his lovely lips and was seeping pre-cum. You licked your own lips before leaning down and taking his hard length in your hand. It was almost a velvety feeling. You ran your hand up and down his length a few times, getting a good feel for it before giving the tip a little kitten lick.

You heard Hoseok hitch his breathing as you ventured further, wrapping your lips fully around him. You smiled lightly to yourself. You began to bob your head up and down, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time. You were just glad that your gag reflex was pretty much nonexistent. The two of you made eye contact, making the whole experience for Hoseok just that much more magical. The more you went down on him, the closer he felt to climaxing. Of course, he wanted to do more with you than just this.

“(Y/N),” he breathed.

“Hm?” you asked, your throat vibrating on him.

“Aw. Fuck,” he moaned. “Stop.”

You came off of him with a “pop.” “Is something wrong?” you asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “Just didn’t want to finish too soon so that I could do this.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back onto the golden flowers. You instinctively opened your legs, and he nestled his hips between them. He placed the tip of his length at your core.

He looked you straight in the eyes before asking, “Do you want to do this?” like the gentleman he was.

You nodded. He slowly entered you, making sure that you got used to him before he did anything else. You leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips, signaling that you were ready for him to move. He started out slowly and shallowly before eventually picking up the speed. The slapping of skin against skin was mixed with the sound of the rustling flowers and chirping birds.

You felt your body beginning to heat up and getting hotter with every passing moment. Soon enough, both of your bodies glistened with a layer of sweat. Moans came from the you of y’all’s mouths, signifying the great time the two of you were having. The more Hoseok slammed against your walls, the more you were to getting closer to climaxing once again.

You dug your nails into Hoseok’s back as the pleasure in your core built, causing the knot to tighten.

“H-Hobi,” you stuttered out, trying to catch your breath.

“What is it, princess?” he asked, just as out of breath as you.

“I’m goi-going to- Ahhh,” you gave out a long moan as you climaxed for the second time. Hoseok wasn’t far behind, releasing his white, hot seed inside you, painting your walls.

“Fuck,” he moaned into your ear as he collapsed on top of you before rolling to the side. You both were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath.

“Wow,” you both muttered at the same time, causing the two of you to let out simple laughs.

“That was amazing. Thank you,” you said to him, facing towards him.

“No, thank you.” There was a slight pause. “Are you alright, princess?”

“I’m perfect, Hobi.”

The two of you smiled at each other, basking in the summer sun and each other’s eyes. It was such a peaceful, beautiful moment. However, it was short lasting as you heard voices off in the distance, coming up towards the meadow.

[eldonash]

Moth to Flame| Orobas & Roland

Summary: Orobas and his maker Haxian are caught by Officer Roland. Where in the past such a thing would have ended with another death, Orobas finds himself fascinated at the radiant, good heroism Roland naturally has. Things turn south as Orobas’ darker, sadist side surfaces, but in the end, surprisingly, Orobas wants Roland to live and lets the officer also save the woman. 

Orobas wanted to over-indulge tonight. Hunt the perfect person, and share them like a little snack with his maker, Haxian. In the past, they wouldn't be picky, grabbing someone random and uncaring of the environment and drain them together in an alleyway, or a car. Either leaving them near death and gently compelled or tossing them wherever and moving on. Back then, before the internet, it was easy to elude police, FBI, and all those government names with enough suggestions. It was even easier when emperors ruled the lands, and all they had were swords and a warrior's mindset. Now, with satellites and recordings, they did have to be a little more discreet. Right now, they had a beautiful, middle-aged business woman traveling through White Crest between on a bench at a bus stop. It was controlled and casually appearing. The moonlight was peaceful, and her laughter quieter now that it's getting later, and she was in a haze of loss life. Orobas had her hand in his own, dragging his fingers over each knuckle, and admiring her jewelry. 

"I don't get the allure of diamonds," he said casually, "the crystals Morgan brought me are more beautiful than them." 

Being new to town, Roland was still getting a feel of the layout and made it a point of going out to patrol regularly. It helped him get a lay of the land and catch crime as it was happening. For a town that’s population was a fraction of Boston’s, the death rate was alarmingly high. Too many of those cases were left unsolved for Roland’s liking. He walked through the dark streets, keeping an eye out for anything that was out of the ordinary though he found most of this town to be just a little strange. Small towns had a way of being stuck in time. It was quickly turning into his new normal. He liked his coworkers well enough and it was much more comfortable sleeping in a home that was previously shared with Isabel. 

As he made his way down the street, he saw an interesting sight near a bus bench. What were these guys doing to this woman? She seemed to be near lifeless and Roland felt the need to interfere. Something wasn’t right here. “Stop right there,” he said with a booming voice, “What’s going on over here?” 

Orobas rose a lazy brow at the man lumbering over, with his plain shirt, and surprisingly a decent body for his age. The vampire's lips and eyes were stained red, and he licked them as if contemplating if having one, more would do him any favors. His stomach was already swollen and quite satisfied, but sometimes Orobas didn't just want to feed. Haxian said gently in his mind, so nosy, as he nuzzled into her neck and hid his demon face. Orobas put on the airs of innocence, legs crossed, and gently draped her fingers on his knee with precise position to seem natural. "Good evening officer, are you patrolling these parts tonight?" he asked respectfully, "is there something for us to worry about tonight? We all are-- just waiting for the bus to arrive."  

Roland’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the scene. Was that blood on his lips? The woman seemed to be out for the count. The questions coming from the man left him slightly perplexed. This woman appeared very much unconscious and he was asking if there was other trouble in the area. It didn’t make sense. Bending his knees slightly, he made himself a little shorter to try and get a better look while giving the man an answer. “That’s why I’m out here. Nothing to worry about and I intend to make sure it stays that way.” Not seeing any movement from the woman, he asked, “What’s going on with your friend here?” If she was in fact conscious, she could speak for herself. Something about their set up had a very twisted feeling to it that he couldn’t quite place. 

When he bent his knees, Orobas thought how easy it would be to push him over, break his ribs and cut--. The lust of a gruesome slaughter was always within in him, a dark blimp that gave his species all the hatred, but made him in particular so much worse. His attention was uncanny and eerie, without a blink, or a twitch of dead muscle, almost a statue resting on a bench as he examined the situation. Orobas was old enough to lure thought, to suggest things, how much of it stuck wasn’t always easy when evidence was right in front of him. “You know they both drank themselves into a fit, on a school night as well-- college kids am I right?” he forced an inhale, and sighed. “I was trying to get them home but couldn’t get them on the bus, so we sorta got stuck here until they sober up.” 

Though Roland enjoyed a good pour of bourbon, he could never understand getting so drunk that you passed out. He always liked to maintain a certain degree of control that just wasn’t possible when you were passed out on a bus bench. If they were that drunk, they may need to see a doctor. In Boston, he’d come across several college kids who needed to get their stomach pumped. He shook his head and said, “It looks like these two may need a doctor then. If they’re passed out on a bus bench, they may have alcohol poisoning.” He bent his knees slightly to give himself a closer look. They definitely didn’t look good. Damn kids and their lack of self control when it came to partying. 

This man was out here doing his best, and it caught Orobas off guard at being struck with so much kindness in the mists of hiding the fact this woman was dying. Was this the best version of a human? A soul that held lawful good as their moral alignment like a torch against the evil before them? To make Orobas question if he should be doing this at all with only a damn glance. He watched every little wrinkle in his face move when it frowned at his lie and the creak of his knees as he bent down in trust. The concern made him nauseous, like walking near the hallowed ground of a church. 

How could he be so righteous? Orobas swept out in a blink of an eye. He had a long blade, with an ivory handle and silver blade under the cop's chin and against his throat. "You are noble; you know that? It's not even your looks, it's-- this goodness coming off you that is confusing," he shuttered, pushing for an answer. "How is it you are like this so easily and naturally?"   

Before Roland knew it, the man in front of him had a knife out. Roland knew something was fishy about this and felt his own hand reaching for his glock. The question threw him off. What was so wrong with being noble and good? This guy seemed pretty twisted. He wondered if he was one of those macabre cosplayers. “Not quite sure what you mean,” he gruffed, “You know, it’s against the law to pull a weapon on an officer.” 

"Is it?" he was astonished at the reaction and absolutely delighted, he flipped the blade away. He saw the jerk in his hand to reach for his gun, and Orobas wanted to hear it go off. "So calm-- how..." it almost growled out. If he had breath, it would be rising and falling quickly to expose his emotions. The fresh blood in him hovered under his flesh to give a faint warmth to his cheeks yet twisted, monstrous darkness in him curled around in his still chest, elongating his fangs, and his eyes sinking into a grayish tint of exposed death. "How-- did you stop that reaction officer? Why didn't you just hit and disarm me?" 

Roland’s hand still stayed on his gun. The knife may have no longer been at his throat, but it was clear this individual was unstable and needed to come down to the station. If he played this right, he could manage this without physical violence. At the suggestion from the strange man that he should’ve just hit him, Roland found himself shaking his head. “I had my gun ready the whole time. I try not to resort to violence unless the situation deems it absolutely necessary. Needless violence doesn’t protect and serve the community.” He was confused, but this man seemed fascinated that he was grounded in his morals. There definitely had to be some drugs at play here. He blinked a couple of times, he swore his teeth seemed longer and his eyes seemed changed. “Sir, I’m going to need you to come back to the station with me. Whatever you and your friends are making you a danger to yourself and others.”

“So you don’t just hurt people because you like it? Or because it feels good? Or because you get mad?” It wasn’t questions to be answered, so much as Orobas cataloging what he was seeing. To anyone, he would always seem psychotic eventually, his sadism was linked profoundly to his psyche and it spilled out. Right now, he could tell Officer Roland was ready to handle him, a spring, one touch away from releasing. As the human's eyes were on him, Haxian was gone from sight. A blur of motion, and a flutter of wings as a swarm of bats flapped loudly into the night sky. Orobas knew his maker was sedated and not concerned for him. The girl's body slumped with the missing person, and Orobas let her fall with a thud. “What defines danger to you Officer?” Another question, paired with an intensity as Orobas not once had stopped looking at the other. 

Roland was becoming more and more perplexed by this man. He was clearly on some sort of drug, but it was becoming clear he was more of a threat than initially thought. His grip on his gun tightened as he pulled it out of his holster. “No, I don’t like hurting people and it doesn’t feel good. I don’t want to hurt you right now so hands in the air please.” The other man on the bench seemed to have vanished. A trick of the lights almost made it look as if a bat flew off, but that was impossible. The woman was left slumped on the bench and Roland was almost positive that blood was here. This was much worse than your standard college kid party shenanigans. The barrel of his gun was pointed at the younger man and he sternly said, “Enough of the cryptic questions, hands up.” 

Orobas rose his hands slowly, eyes wild and excited. The white ivory dagger glistened between them, but he didn’t make a move to drop it. “You know, if you deal with me-- she will die.” The statement was truthful, her chest rose in pathetic attempts to keep oxygen in her dwindled bloodstream, but every second would matter. “Tick tock, tick tock, slowly, and slowly, she dies,” he hummed it like a tun. Then something flickered over his form. A blur of motion and he screeched, a ‘nails on the chalkboard’ sound that threatened to make his eardrums bleed. It exposed his fangs even more, and further transformed his features in an ashly haunting corpse. The monster, who was always well dressed, and hidden under the facade of amusement parks and loyalty rose up, the faintest flutter of wings above. Orobas Ash, in truest exposure, someone uncaring, cruel, and true evil would let her live. “You see I have changed a bit,” his head tilted, cohesion forceful but spoken with a dark tone. “Go on officer-- forget me and save her.” 

Normally, Roland would have prioritized the man who was clearly a danger to society, but something compelled him to go toward the woman who was quickly bleeding out. This crazed man was definitely someone who took the macabre stories of the town a bit too seriously, he could tell as much from the bite marks on the woman’s neck. He tried to fight his body’s draw to the woman and said, “You stay right there while I get her an ambulance.” He quickly knelt down and examined her further, she was bleeding a lot. He spoke into his radio, “I need an ambulance on the corner of 5th and Main as quickly as possible.” He ripped the sleeve from his own shirt and used it to press down on her wound to try and slow the bleeding. 

His gaze lingered on the thick curve of his neck as he turned to speak into his radio, the way he still remained calm, collected-- even without the compulsion was still confusing Orobas who wanted him to scream. The desire to cut his hand and press it to her lips to see if she’d turn into a monster was almost impossible not to want. But the officer deserved to save her, and Orobas had promised he’d stop taking so many lives. He watched just for a second more, before the shadows swallowed him up. His steps swift, and familiar, as he moved between the darkest spots and found himself in step with Haxian. “He might remember a bit of you,” Haxian warned, and Orobas shrugged. “I might just want to see him again.” 

[serenzippity]

Viva

Words: 3796 Member: Eventual Hyungwon/OC, mentions of Wonho/OC, OC/ OC Genre: Angst Warning(s): Language, domestic violence, discrimination, dark themes

Chapter One

August 15th, 2019 Starship Entertainment Seoul, South Korea

Every step that I took sent a pang of dread up and down my spine where it nestled in my brain and reminded me how much I didn’t want to be here. Maybe it was the pinch of my heels or the fact that it was 11 in the morning and I still hadn’t had my morning coffee. Maybe it was the fact that I was dreading dealing with my boss, a man of admirable skills but very old-fashioned ideals. But in the end, as I stared at the door to the meeting room I decided that it was because I didn’t want to deal with the topic at hand.

There was another damned dating scandal and the whole building was buzzing because of it.

Rolling my eyes, I did everything I could to steel myself at the knowledge I would be sitting through another round of ‘who is wrong because I’m never wrong’ with the company’s legal team. It was a chore itself just to open the door and take my spot near the head of the table. Soon the room was filled to the brim with men that all had sour looks on their faces.

Doing a quick tally, I counted practically the entire Starship Legal Team ranging from the corporate stooges to the entire Monsta X team, to even a few members of the other artist’s teams. Almost everyone was here because the scandal, despite not being public knowledge yet, was extremely high-profile. It wasn’t often that an idol decided to shack up with an international pop star.

The meeting began with honorifics and a brief on the situation at hand. The senior partner on the team, Mr. Park, spat out all the details as if they personally offended him and his family. Lee Hoseok, also known as Wonho, was currently in a long-distance relationship with singer Reagan Brooks after he met her on the Jingle Ball circuit. They were friends first and foremost, doing public events together when she came to Korea in March and somehow, they were able to keep the relationship quiet until a nosy intern came crying to the company. Shidae called for an inquiry into his contract by the legal team, thus culminating into the cesspool of old-school testosterone that was brewing in the conference room.

“After overlooking his contract,” droned Mr. Park, “It can be argued that Hoseok-goon did not formally violate his dating agreement. However, I’d like to recommend sanctions against him and a formal remand to end the relationship.” I cringed at a mix of the condescending honorific as well as the collective murmur of agreement from the other men in the room.

“This relationship is unacceptable for an idol in his standing, and it should never have begun in the first place,” cried one of the members of the WJSN legal team. If I didn’t have a sour taste in my mouth before, I did now.

‘Those poor girls,’ I thought as he continued to argue in favor of sanctions.

“All in favor?”

Every person in the room, save for me, raised a hand. This did not go unnoticed by Mr. Park, and the glare that he sent my way was intense. He did not like me in the slightest, often citing my connections as the only reason as to how I got this job. He was against me from the beginning— be it because of my last name or my sex— and there was always a tension between us.

“Mrs. Hamlin?” he seethed, eyes flitting up and down with distaste.

“Well, Mr. Park,” I said as I cleared my throat, ready to give my take on it despite the multiple pairs of angry eyes looking at me. “Despite the call for sanctions against Lee Hoseok, we legally cannot file them against him.”

“And why not?” He looked at me like I spat in his face, but after a year of his abuse, I was far from scared of his perpetually angry look.

“His contract states that he isn’t allowed to date until three years after the band’s debut date or until they have two wins, whichever comes first,” I tell him pointedly, looking down at my copy of the contract where I highlighted and marked prevalent points in it. “It has been four years since their debut and multiple wins, therefor he fulfilled that aspect of the contract.”

“We understand that—”

“Furthermore,” I said, forgetting hierarchy and not letting him finish, “Beyond the parameters of the dating restriction, his contract does not outline what will happen to him or the band should he choose to date after the prerequisites have been met. The contract simply moves on to his allowances and expenditures in the dorm. Legally,” putting a lot of emphasis on the word, “we cannot change or amend his contract to fit your moral ideals.”

The last sentence caused an uproar. It was like a bomb went off in the room as many of the lawyers cried out in anger. I understood that it wasn’t the best choice of words, but the law is the law. Despite being educated in America, Contract Law in Korea was virtually the same. Contracts cannot be amended at a whim and this was a case example of adherence over adaption.

“Mr. Park,” I hissed over the uproar, “You know that we cannot amend his contract without having a summit, drafting a new one, and forcing him and all the other members to renew their contracts prematurely. It would cost a lot of time and money to do so.”

The anger in his eyes told me that he was pissed off, but the slouch in his shoulders told me that he knew I was correct. “Enough,” he shouted over the voices of the other lawyers. They silenced instantly, but there was still a palpable tension in the room. “What do you suggest then Mrs. Hamlin.”

Clearing my throat, I flipped to the last page of my brief. I had outlined a plan of attack that would maintain the Starship ideals but keep from breaching his contract. “I suggest that we work with Ms. Brooks’ team. We keep the media out of it and work collectively to keep the whole thing quiet. They can meet on their own dimes, but the terms will be set by both managements. Everything must be quiet, discrete, and maintain a zero-tolerance for social media.”

Mr. Park leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face as he stewed over my plan of attack. I knew I was right, and he knew I was right even though he didn’t want to admit it.  “Alright,” he said with a groan, “We will work with the American team to connect with Ms. Brooks’ management. But in the meantime, you,” he said pointing to me, “will be the one to tell him and Hongsik to stay home. No unexplained trips or outings with her until this is settled.”

“But—”

“That is all. I want the Monsta X team notified today.” With that, he stood up and began to gather the papers scattered in front of him. I felt the fury within me begin to bubble, but I bit my tongue because I knew there was no getting out of what Mr. Park said. The command held the weight of a ton of bricks, and I felt the beginnings of a headache start to pound behind my eyes.

Gathering my things, I practically ran out of the room, ignoring all the nasty looks of my coworkers and team members. My heels clicked as I made my way into my office, and I could only guess that I had a sour look on my face because Seyoung was standing by my desk with a cup of coffee and a bottle of painkillers in hand.

“You’re an angel,” I groaned taking both eagerly. I popped a few and washed them down with the coffee before kicking my heels off and leaning back in my chair with an overexaggerated groan. “Can you find me an intern please?” Grabbing a notepad, I began to work on the task that was draining all my energy.

“Be right back,” he said before dutifully filing out of the room and returning a few moments later with a bright-eyed young woman.

“Take this memo to Hongsik on the fourth floor. Tell him that it is imperative that he, his staff, and the members arrive promptly.” I handed her a folder with the handwritten note. She nodded eagerly and pranced out of my office like a chipper doe. Normally I’d be amused by her enthusiasm, but the pounding behind my eyes was growing stronger and stronger.

“Rough morning so far?” Seyoung asked as he leaned against the doorway.

“You have no idea.” I slipped on a comfortable pair of flats and chugged on my coffee as I thought about a plan of attack for the meeting I was dreading. “I’m just good at my job and that means that I get the bitch work. It’s fine.”

“Well if it will help, do you want me to get you more coffee and some refreshments for the meeting I’m guessing you’re going to be hosting?”

I only gave him a pathetic pout and nod, finishing off the hot, bitter lifeblood in the cup. I tossed it and began to outline a brief for the meeting. I was meticulous when it came to the do’s and do not’s on the list that it was almost painful with the amount of effort I was putting in. Here I was, a partner under Starship, doing the work of an associate. I was thankful for my position and the opportunities I had been afforded the last year, but the blatant prejudice against me was really beginning to wear me down.

Granted, I came into the position with marks against me. I’d only been out of law school for a year before I was “offered” the partner position at Starship. It was a mix of nepotism, bribery, and threats that made me physically ill when I thought about them. However, for the last two years, I had become an expert at burying the darkest aspects of my life. It was like taking a layer of clothing off and throwing it into a bin. Shedding those parts of me became second nature. From the circumstances of my job to my marriage, everything worked against me in an effort to make me crumble. But I worked too damn hard to get to where I was.

Running my hands through my dark hair, I ticked down the minutes with busy work. Making sure everything was set for the meeting, I put my heels back on and began to pour cups of water from a pitcher that Seyoung graciously brought me. Everything was perfect for the awkward, and hopefully short, conversation that I would have to have with the group and their team.

The meeting was set to start at 3 PM sharp, but by 3:05 I was clicking my pen with nerves. By 3:15 the nerves began to die down and unadulterated annoyance began to take their place. By 3:35 I was pacing in my uncomfortable heels as I worked to calm my stewing mind. It didn’t help, rather the pacing just made me angrier.

“Seyoung!” My assistant scrambled through the door, surprised at my sharp tone. His wide eyes were fixated on my hands which were currently clenched so hard that my nails were cutting little crescent moons into my palms. “Find the schedule for Monsta X. If they are in the building I want to know where they are.”

With a nod, he dutifully returned to his desk and within seconds I had the exact location of the sources of my anger. Taking the elevator down to the third-floor practice rooms I stomped my way through the Starship building, scaring associates and interns alike with my angry eyes and gently bleeding palms.

I could hear the music coming from the biggest room the moment I stepped off the elevator. The deep vocals and house beats vibrated through the halls, beckoning me on my way as I rehearsed a scolding in my mind. By the time I reached the door the music was blaring, and I just wanted the thumping to stop. It aggravated the pounding that had returned to behind my eyes, and it only made me that much angrier.

Opening the door, I walked in to see the seven idols rehearsing their choreography with their team standing around watching them like hawks. No one even seemed to notice me come in and somehow that only added to my frustration.

“Pardon!” I yelled, my native language coming out though my reddening vision as I honed in on their manager. No one heard me, which prompted me to stomp over to the in-house sound system and pull the aux chord out of the speaker. A shrill pitch rang out, startling everyone and causing them to finally notice my appearance. The Monsta X members were in mid-position, some falling as the music cut out and they were awkwardly pulled out of their concentration. The team was scrambling to find out what cut the music, only to give me shocked looks at the anger on my face and the chord dangling from my fingers.

“Mrs. Hamlin what—” their manager, Hongsik, asked stepping forward. But I wasn’t in the mood to hear what he had to say. I quickly cut him off, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at him with rage.

“Ta gueule,” I shouted in French, quickly switching back to Korean. “You were supposed to be in my office forty-five minutes ago!”

“For what?” Hongsik looked at me with wide eyes at my harsh demeanor. He and I had met in passing multiple times and he was a pleasant man who I had always gotten along with, but right now that established acquaintanceship was out the window.

“I sent a messenger down here to tell you and your team to be in my office at 3 PM sharp.” I hissed the last word venomously, glaring at the older man fearlessly. “We have come to a decision about Hoseok’s relationship.” The blonde-haired boy in question looked down at his feet in shame at the mention of his name.

I gave the idol a once over, before looking at the rest of the Monsta X team with fury in my eyes. I dropped the chord on the floor and moved to walk out the door. “My office, now.” My voice was a dark whisper, offering no room for protest. I turned the handle to the door and slammed it, not looking back to see if anyone was following.

-x-

The meeting itself went well once the team and Hoseok finally made their way in. All of them were understanding of the terms, and surprisingly the idol was very complacent. Despite the relatively acrimonious first impression, Hoseok seemed like a nice guy who had genuine concerns for both the happiness of his fans and his girlfriend.

It only took an hour before I dismissed them, handing over my card to Hoseok just in case some of the other partners tried to change the terms of his contract again. He seemed appreciative, bowing deeply and giving me a beautiful dimpled smile that would have made any other woman swoon.

The rest of the day went on as usual, with the typical snide remarks from my colleagues and the copious amounts of busywork. I left the building at my average time with a wave to Seyoung before going outside and sliding into the car that my husband sent for me. The ride with his driver was silent, something that I had grown accustomed to after two years of marriage. It only took approximately five minutes to arrive at the lavish apartment complex, but he always insisted that I take the car rather than walk.

My feet ached painfully by the time I took the elevator to the top floor of the building and stepped out into the spacious penthouse. Every bone was screaming for release from the Louboutin pumps, and I finally gave them a respite as I walked through the threshold.

Damien was sprawled on the couch, intently starting at a news broadcast playing over his massive TV. Nothing was said, and he didn’t even acknowledge my presence as I made my way over to him and pressed a chaste kiss to his head.

“Hi baby,” I cooed against his soft dark hair, touching his cheek gently. He only grunted in response, and I took that as permission to leave him alone for the time being. I padded over into the master bedroom, quickly stripping out of my suffocating tights and pencil skirt in favor of a pair of leggings and a faded Georgetown t-shirt.

After a quick wash up, I made my way out to begin preparing dinner. Every move I made was quick and silent, the only noise in our expansive house was the droning of the TV and the sizzle of the chicken breasts in the pan. By the time dinner was ready, Damien had made himself comfortable at the dining table with his phone in hand. Like a good little wife, I plated everything and set it down in front of him with a glass of his favorite wine. Placing another kiss to his head, I got my own dinner ready and joined him at the table. The monotonous evening was something I was used to, the silence a lovely companion in comparison to the times when one or both of our tempers got the best of us.  

Damien was clicking away on his phone in between bites of food. There would be no show of thanks or any words of appreciation, but I’d more than likely find some expensive piece of jewelry or perfume sitting on my vanity by the end of the week.

The rest of the evening was silent as the grave, save for the clicking of Damien’s iPhone and my fingers hitting the keys on my laptop. We both worked after dinner for a few hours, practically ignoring each other. I didn’t show it outwardly, but every second of silence felt like a knife was being pushed deeper and deeper into my chest. At one point in time, we were so passionately and intensely in love, neck-deep in a honeymoon phase that seemed endless. We would worship each other and whisper affirmations of love until the sun came up during a time where I was so blissfully happy that I didn’t see the red flags.

I don’t know when it all changed, but somehow everything fell through my fingers like grains of sand.

Eventually, Damien and I retired into our bedroom. He was laying on the bed, phone still in hand with his body shining in the dim lamplight. I was finishing up my routine at the vanity, watching him from the corner of my eye. He was so beautiful as he relaxed at the end of the day, and I felt like I could potentially pretend we were how we used to be.

“Damien,” I cooed as I ran a brush through my hair. “Your birthday is in two days and I was planning on making reservations at—.”

“I’m leaving for London in two days. Raincheck.” He grumbled, not even giving me an opportunity to finish my thought.

I set the brush down hard, shaking my vanity but barely phasing my lounging husband. “You just got back from Singapore and now you are leaving again?” My frustration that accumulated throughout the entirety of the day came raging back in a tidal wave of emotions. I watched him through the mirror, angry at how he didn’t even look up from his phone at the obvious distress in my voice.

“Did you have another way for me to spend my day?” He was completely monotone, never looking up from the illuminated screen.

“Yes actually,” I said, my voice coming out as a broken cry. “I wanted to take you to this restaurant. Seyoung said it was wonderful and—.”

For the second time that night he interrupted me. However, this time around his attention was no longer focused on the device in his hand. Rather he was completely honed in on me, eyes alight with familiar fury. “Seyoung?” he hissed cynically, quickly switching from nonchalant to suspicious within a second’s notice.

It was one of his major flaws: he was insanely jealous. That dark part of him used to turn me on in a way that was unique to us, but after the wedding, the envy within him took a much more sinister turn. There were some things that makeup couldn’t completely cover-up.  

I regretted saying Seyoung’s name instantly. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, awaiting the cold touch of his hands on my body. I held in my jumping heart when I felt soft, yet firm fingers wrap around the column of my throat. They squeezed gently, forcing my head up as he hovered over me with a menacing snarl on his rugged face. “You and your assistant made plans together? Did you get cozy with him while discussing my birthday dinner?” Every word made him squeeze harder until my breathing was completely cut off.

Gasping as the sensation, I felt tears begin to gather in the corner of my eyes. The lack of oxygen mixed with pure fear had me cowering under his hands. His other hand came around and began to pop open the buttons of my sleep shirt. I began to see black spots in the corner of my eyes as the absence of air began to overtake my body. My hands tried to claw his away, but he just gave me an evil smirk at my struggle.

When he finally let go of my neck I fell forward onto my vanity, knocking products off the table in my effort to soothe my burning lungs. I didn’t have a single opportunity for respite before his hands came down to grasp my waist in a vice grip. He pulled me up roughly and pushed me forward onto the vanity. The edge of the table cut into my hips as he leaned into my body with bruising hands that groped and grabbed anywhere they could find purchase.

Damien bit the skin at the juncture of my neck, causing me to cry out in pain as the tears finally fell over my lashes. “I don’t like other men touching my things,” he whispered harshly into my neck before taking the lapels of my shirt and completely ripping it in half and bending me over the vanity.

A/N: I UPLOADED THE WRONG VERSION I’M SO SORRY! Here is the prologue of Viva! Next chapter will feature Hyungwon. Let me know what you think! Gif is not mine.

[joo-heo-n]

Truth Be Told

Genre: Angst

Member: Jooheon

Word Count: 5,788

a/n: Have a good weekend!!! 

Summary: I’ve been politely holding it in but it’s weighing so heavy on my heart and I’m about to get sick from stress. It’s easy for you to distance yourself to later come back and ask from me as if I felt nothing. Truth be told, I never was yours and you were never mine.

She pressed her lips against his ever so smoothly as they both lay facing each other in her bed. The only barrier between them were the disheveled sheets of her bed, and she took advantage of the thin fabric to be as close to him as possible. One of her hands caressed his jaw as her lips worked with his own in a slow rhythmic manner, while his arms wrapped around her, his hands grazing her bare back. It was awfully intimate, and if either didn’t know better, maybe even romantic. She liked that kind of theme every now and then, but he was a sucker for it, and he wanted to blame his romantic hopelessness for the downfall he was beginning to see coming his way.

He heard her hum as she pulled away from him slowly, her eyes suddenly gazing at him from beneath her eyelashes, “Why so sentimental?” she asked playfully, but the question struck a chord in his chest, sending him into a state of defensiveness. He narrowed his eyes at her, “Are you complaining?” he remarked, making her giggle as she pecked the corner of his lips and sat up. She shimmied out of his embrace and scooted to the edge of the bed, the sheets abandoned her figure as she stood up and shrugged, looking over her shoulder at him as she headed for the bathroom, “Not complaining” she said with a smirk.

He lay in her bed for a few seconds before turning on his back and running his hands through his face and hair before he was also standing up and beginning to change back into his clothes. He had to leave while he still could, “I’m gonna go” he said loud enough for her to hear. In a few seconds, she was making her way back into the bedroom, one of his forgotten t-shirts fitting her almost like a dress, were it not for the fact that it was barely long enough to cover her underwear. He nearly did a double-take when he glanced over at her, but he made sure not to stare because he knew he’d never be able to leave if he did. “Already?” she asked, almost pouting as she sat at the edge of her bed and fixed her hair into a bun while she watched him get dressed.

“I have some errands to run” he stated, which wasn’t a lie, but his excuse was so forced to him as he felt the urge to nearly sprint out of her home.

“Oh okay then, text me later” she said, not a tinge of disappointment sounded through her words, because she sincerely wasn’t and he knew. He nodded and waved nonchalantly at her as he walked out of her bedroom, the pit of his stomach suddenly feeling sick. “Jooheon, hold on!” he suddenly heard and he almost winced at having to stop in his tracks right before the front door. He turned around and found her skipping to him with a small smile, “I forgot to tell you one of my coworkers thinks your cute” she stated with a wink. He wanted to so badly turn away and leave, but he managed a scoff and a smirk, “Shut up” he commented, trying the knob as she chuckled and smacked his arm playfully, “Should I give her your number?” she asked seriously but chuckled as he shook his head and opened the door, “Go away” he said before hearing her goodbye and the door close behind him.

“Go watch that movie with me, please” she whispered, trying her best to look appealing to him as he tried to focus and write his notes. He refused to look up at her, making him knit his eyebrows in concentration as he glanced at his textbook and scribbled notes on his notebook. “Please, no one else wants to go with me” she persisted, the silence in the library making her pleads hard to ignore. He let out a sigh and glanced at her, leaning back into his chair as he toyed with the pencil in his hand.

She smiled at him and tilted her head to the side, one of her hands coming to his forearm and giving it a light squeeze. He instantly leaned forward and cleared his throat as quietly as he could so as to not let the sound resonate throughout the library. “What do I get out of it?” he replied, bringing his hand with his pencil to his chin as he met her gaze. She pressed her lips together and brought her hands to her lap, “I’ll buy you food, or do your homework, or…” she whispered, but suddenly she was leaning into his ear and suggesting enough to make his eyes frantic and look around to see if anyone was watching them.

He swallowed hard and moved away from her, taking in a sharp breath and considering his options as she grinned smugly from beside him. “You can just buy food for me” he said, looking at her as she watched him in surprise at his answer, “You don’t want the other meal?” she joked and he nearly gasped at her words but both suppressed their laughs. “So you’re going?” she then asked and he nodded, turning back to his notes and beginning to scribble away as she silently clapped and cheered from beside him.

“I’m so happy right now!” she chirped at his side as they both stood in line to purchase the movie tickets. He looked around and was amazed by the amount of people that had come to see this movie, it was so packed there were lines to purchase the tickets as far as he could see. “No one else wanted to come see this movie with you?” he asked as he turned to her skeptically, making her grin as she nodded, “Or maybe I just wanted you to come see it with me” she said but he shook his head, a small smile breaking across his lips as he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m serious, Jooheon, you were my last resort” she confessed and he winced, “Ouch” he said with a grimace and she chuckled, “It’s a suspenseful movie! I didn’t think you’d want to see it” she remarked.

She hooked her arm with his and shrugged, “Not scary, right? Just suspenseful? Because I can take suspenseful, not scary” he asked, turning to her in sudden worry and she nearly guffawed. “Not scary, just mysterious- how old are you again?” she teased and he felt the need to justify his weak heart while watching horror movies, but there was no point in explaining himself to someone who knew him too well.

After a few seconds of waiting, she began scrolling through her phone while the line got closer to the ticket box. He let out a sigh and resorted to take out his cell phone as well, but as he did, he glanced over at her screen and he squinted to catch the texts she was furiously typing away at. “Who are you texting?” he asked, taking her by surprise as she looked at him and clicked her tongue at him, “So nosy” she said, a small smile breaking on her lips as she locked her phone and brought it to the back pocket of her jeans. He smirked at her and went on to scroll through his phone, her eyes drifted over to his own screen this time but he knew she was doing it as payback, which made him grin, “I’ve got nothing to hide” he stated and she rolled her eyes at him.

“I’m not hiding anything, if it were important I’d tell you” she said through a sigh, and he threw his arm over her shoulders and brought her into his side, “I’m messing with you” he said and she smiled widely at him. Just then the line moved and it was their turn to reach the ticket box and buy the tickets.

As soon as they did, she took his hand in hers and guided him to the theater room in which they’d be in. He followed her in amusement and watched as she giddily found the room and nearly skipped her way inside, and he felt something ache a little in his chest that turned into a shot of fear. She opened the door for the two of them and he had to take in a deep breath to ignore the fondness he was suddenly feeling as he saw her smile while she guided him to their seats.

They made it into his apartment before she was searching for his lips and kissing him deeply, taking him by surprise along with the fluttering in the pit of his stomach as she lingered on him. “Who’s the sentimental one now?” he teased and she simply brought him back into a feverish kiss and stepped away from him to make her way into his bedroom.

He stood in his spot for a few seconds, taking in a short breath before he was making his way after her.

“You seriously don’t want me to give her your number?” she asked as he lay on her chest while she showed him pictures of her friends. He chuckled lazily and moved off of her to lay next to her, “Stop” he tried, shifting to lay on his side as his eyes closed momentarily. He heard her shift from beside him, “Why? Do you not think she’s pretty?” she asked, oblivious to his disinterest in her friends. He shook his head slightly, placing his arm under his pillow and beginning to get comfortable, his eyes still closed, “It’s not that” he commented.

She placed her cellphone on the nightstand and mimicked his position, “Then? Do you just not want to date right now?” she asked softly as she faced him. He opened his eyes and met her gaze, the action making him hold his breath without realizing, “No- I don’t know” he admitted with a small shrug as he closed his eyes once again and shifted to lay on his back. She hummed and let out a small sigh, the silence taking hold of the air between them for a few seconds before she was raising her head and leaning it against her hand. “Jooheon” she said, making him turn to look at her attentively as she smiled a little, “I’m talking to someone” she said, her eyes dropping to the space between the two of them as the smile still played on her lips.

Her words made everything click inside his head and suddenly he felt a surge of panic in his chest, but he managed to keep himself composed as he looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Since when?” he asked, slightly annoyed and curious as he sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Maybe like… a month or two?” she confessed and his eyebrows knitted as he stared at her in disbelief, “And we’re still sleeping together? Have you been seeing him anyway?” he asked, trying not to come off too strong with his tone, but he could tell there was no hiding his dislike in the matter. She sat up quickly and held a hand up, “No wait, haven’t you noticed we actually haven’t been doing this as often? I just wanted to make sure I’d want to date him before telling you” she explained but he still felt somewhat betrayed.

He stared at her as she toyed with her hair, quietly waiting for him to say something. He refused to give the situation much thought and instead took in a small breath and shrugged, “So you want to date him?” he asked and she nodded, still not looking at him, “That’s why I’m telling you” she said softly, glancing over at him. “That’s why you wanted me to meet your friends?” he asked, forcing a smile across his lips which she was fooled by, a giggle escaping her lips as she nodded, “You didn’t catch on” she said and he grinned at her.

“Hey” she then said and he gave her a nod in question as she scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder, “We promised to stay friends even if we started seeing someone, remember?” she said and it sounded to him like she was trying to reassure him of her existence in his life after the change. He scoffed a little and nodded, “I know, no one said otherwise” he commented lightly but all she did was simply hug his arm, “Yeah… just making sure” she then added, looking up at him and pecking his lips as their gaze met.

“Tell you what, one more round before there’s no more later” she tried, grinning as she pulled away and quirked an eyebrow at him. He smirked faintly and nodded, leaning forward to kiss her once again, because even though he was feeling uneasiness in his chest, he wanted to be glad to have her with him in that moment.

He took a long sip of his coffee from its straw, the group project was pushing them past midnight, and everyone looked about ready to knock out right there and then. At his side, she sat quietly and typed away at her laptop, while the rest of the group members silently pleaded for mercy.

“We’re almost done” someone said with a sigh that betrayed his words. Jooheon leaned back into his chair and stretched his neck, earning a concerned look from her. “You okay?” she asked and he nodded with an exhale, leaning forward and trying to look over the papers in front of him. She continued to watch him until she finally let out a small breath and turned back to her laptop.

He glanced up to look at everyone sitting around the table in the isolated study room, his eyes falling on his friend from across him.

He raised his eyebrows at him expectantly and his friend simply mouthed, ‘later’, before going back to his own task.

Finally after fifteen minutes, someone called it a night and everyone gathered their things in exhaustion and headed out. She stayed at his side as he finally threw his backpack over his shoulder and began walking out of the lonely library, trailing after everyone else.

“I’m gonna go, drive back safely” she then said quietly before parting ways, she hugged his side and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head as his arm brought her into him. It was probably a quick hug, but he felt as if it had lasted longer than it should have from his part.

She offered him a faint smile and mouthed a ‘bye’, before turning away.

His friend came to his side and sighed, “I want to beat whoever thought this project was a good idea” he joked and Jooheon chuckled lazily. “Have you guys started dating yet?” his friend asked after a pause of silence, making Jooheon scoff lightly, “We’re just friends” he replied as both of them headed out of the building and onto the parking lot. “She doesn’t look at you like a friend” his friend said, making Jooheon furrow his eyebrows slightly, “She looks at everyone like that… She’s like that” he countered and his friend shrugged.

Both walked up to their cars which were parked side by side, “You can tell something is up between you guys, it’s in the air when you guys look at each other” his friend teased and Jooheon scoffed once again. “She’s dating someone” he said and his friend stopped his ministrations of trying to open his car, bringing his hands to the top of the car and staring at Jooheon incredulously.

“I thought you guys were hooking up?” he blurted and Jooheon hadn’t realized how flustered that word made him when it was coming from someone else. “Who told you?” he then asked, because as far as he knew, it was a matter kept between him and her and no one else. “Oh c’mon, you guys totally do, I’m telling you, it's really obvious” his friend remarked and Jooheon opened the door of his own car to throw his backpack inside.

“It’s messed up if she’s dating and getting it on with you, Jooheon, I’m just saying” his friend tried carefully, but Jooheon simply shook his head, “We’re not hooking up while she dates” he said. His friend paused for a long minute and took in a deep breath as he looked away, “It might be a while then, you should probably find someone else too” he then commented with a small shrug and a wave. They both waved at each other and descended into their cars, turning on the engines and desperately heading home for the sleep their bodies begged for.

Except when his head hit his pillow, all he thought about was how it had already been a month and a half since she had started dating. He only had her side hugs to hold onto now, and it bothered him that she still looked at him the way she did. It was in a way that said she wasn’t lusting over him, but instead cared for him.

He pictured her in his head like she always looked to him, and he had to shift to lay on his side to stop the thoughts from going too deep. He had to stop himself from imagining that the empty space beside him would never have her there again.

Everyone drank to their liking and took advantage of not having to wake up for responsibilities the next day. He personally had had a very rough week of finals, so every shot he downed was more than welcome to make its way into his system.

He had been at the club with everyone for well over three hours, so it was safe to say he was drunk. She had noticed, of course she had, because only she knew there were two sides of his drunk self. There was the affectionate, giggly, and needy side, and the one that sulked and brought the mood down to depressing conversations. He didn’t know which one he was at that moment, but she was already taking her things and letting others know they both would be leaving now.

She ushered him to his car and made him lean against it as she searched his pockets for the keys. He smirked and watched her, his senses heightened as her hands grazed him. She finally found them and unlocked the door, opening it and managing to get him into the passenger seat.

She was so patient with him, not just now when he was drunk, but always.

She made her way into the other side and began to drive. Once at his apartment, she guided him inside and led him to his bed. He wasn’t drunk enough to not be able to do it himself, but she followed after him anyway and watched him sit at the edge of his bed. “Let me get water for you” she commented, but before she could leave, he took her wrist and stood up.

She stumbled a bit as he pulled her to him, one of his hands coming to caress her cheek. He was smiling, but inside he wasn’t. He pressed his lips to hers slowly and even though she reacted a second too late, she still pulled away and shook her head. “No, I can’t” she whispered, taking his hand on her cheek and bringing it down.

It had been three months going on four now, since he had kissed her and the feeling sobered him up. “Y/N” he said, his voice low as he pulled her back to him, “Jooheon, I can’t” she said, smiling playfully because to her he wasn’t in his right mind at that moment.

She was right he wasn’t, but because he had waited it out, he had suppressed it all and had masked it well enough, so he couldn’t right now. “He doesn’t have to know” he remarked and the words took him by as much surprise as they took her. She stared at him in disbelief, and he wanted to think there were second thoughts in her head.

“No, you’re drunk and I can’t” she said sternly, pushing him away gently, “I’m getting you some water” she added, heading into the kitchen. He stood in his spot and let his gaze drop to the floor with a heavy sigh.

When she came back, he was already sitting at the edge of the bed and taking the cup from her hands. She stood before him and watched him down the glass of water with ease. “I’m gonna head out, will you be okay?” she asked, searching his expression out of concern.

I haven't been okay, he wanted to say, but he simply nodded and avoided her gaze. “Call me when you wake up tomorrow” she then said, running her hand through his hair carefully, and without much thought he leaned into her touch.

He took her wrist once more and brought her to stand in between his legs. “Jooheon-” she started but he shook his head and hugged her, “Wait, just wait” he said, his voice tired and quiet. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, because if he didn't hug her and just let her go, he’d go mad.

Her arms stayed at her sides as he let the moment sink in for a few more seconds before finally releasing her from his embrace. “Go” was all he said tiredly, laying down and feeling as if the bed were absorbing him. He heard her walk out of his bedroom and lock the front door before closing it.

He thanked the alcohol in his system for sending him to sleep right away, because he would have begged her to stay if it weren't for the weight of exhaustion.

“Why did you write this?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed in question as she pointed at the section in his notes she didn’t understand. He hummed and found where she was stuck, then explained the reason behind his scribbles. She chuckled lightly and continued writing her own notes. The lobby was filled with conversations from others walking in and out, and he thanked the lack of silence surrounding them because that stopped his thoughts from being too loud. “I want a snack… do you want anything?” she then asked with a sigh, glancing over at him as he shook his head, his eyes focused on the textbook before him.

She stood up and left him to finally feel like he could tear his eyes away from the pages of the book. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, a small headache beginning to settle in the back of his head. He put his pencil down and sat back in his chair, taking a brief break to look around the busy lobby.

He searched for her among everyone beginning to crowd around the vending machines. Just then he spotted her smiling wide, side by side with someone else as they talked, already heading towards where he sat. He regretted watching them interact from the vending machines all the way until they stood before him, because he had a gut feeling the guy next to her was not a friend, but her boyfriend.

It felt like a blow to the stomach when they stood before him while he sat stuck to his seat. “This is Jooheon, my best friend” she started, and as soon as Jooheon met his gaze, he would have prefered if the guy gave him a nasty look and maybe even refrained from looking at him at all. However, her boyfriend did the exact opposite, “Hi, she talks about you a lot” he said with a sincere smile while he held his hand out for Jooheon to shake.

Jooheon stood up and took his hand, giving it a brief shake and offering him a forced, pained smile, but he was glad only he noticed the struggle of such act. He wanted to hit the guy, not because he was being an asshole, but because that was exactly what he wasn’t being. Her boyfriend tried making conversation as they both sat side by side while Jooheon stood and watched them.

“I’m gonna go” he blurted, trying to be nonchalant as he started gathering his things, his eyes avoiding her as he felt her stare on him. “Go where? You’re done?” she asked puzzled and Jooheon simply smiled a little, “No but I have a test I want to study for right now” he replied, which wasn’t a lie.

“Nice meeting you” her boyfriend shot, and it took everything in Jooheon’s power to smile and nod, instead of impulsively taking him by the shirt and starting a fight. The worst of it all was that her boyfriend looked insanely friendly. “I’ll send you the rest of the notes later then” she commented and by then, he was done putting everything in his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder and walking away.

He wasn’t lying about having to study for the test, but he might have lied when he said he wanted to do it. He sat alone, surrounded by the silence in his room, and his loud thoughts swarming through his head. He would have prefered if her boyfriend wanted to fight him, he wanted him to be bad and get jealous at seeing him, that way Jooheon would have a reason to hate him and be nasty as well. But the guy was harmless, mostly because he had nothing to lose if he already had her, he thought.

He smacked his lips and propped his elbows on his desk, running his hands through his hair and leaving them at the nape of his neck as he closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized how in over his head he had been all this time. Her relationship was stable and promising, and he hadn’t seen it even though she talked about it, but he was still there latching onto the idea that it was all temporary and she’d return to him, and to how things used to be.

He was crazy for going five months with that idea.

Maybe physically he hadn’t distanced himself, but every day he spent with her, he was a few inches further from her and he just hadn’t noticed.

He finally ran out of excuses to turn her down every time she asked to see him. She cornered him at his own apartment, her arms crossed as she stood at his doorstep, “I knew you were home, you liar” she said playfully, walking past him and into his living room. He followed after her and sighed, his shoulders dropping as she turned to him with a frown, “How long has it been since I last came?” she asked and he could only manage a shrug, too long.

Her smile shrunk as she sat at the armrest of his couch, her expression changed and suddenly she looked serious, her gaze shifting from him to the floor, “You’re avoiding me” she commented softly and he felt an ache in his chest. He brought a hand to his lips and ran his index finger over his bottom lip, there was a lot he wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out where to start. She looked up at him and let out a small exhale, “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice thick with concern and it made him upset, because she couldn’t be that oblivious, right?

A heavy silence that lasted a few seconds made it hard for him to breathe and not fidget as she watched him.

“Just say it, Jooheon” she tried, and he could hear the hesitance in her words. He found her eyes and he wanted to look away in the next second, but he couldn’t. “I don’t think I can do this anymore” he managed almost in the form of a mumble, but he knew she had heard him loud and clear, because there was panic in her expression. “Do what?” she asked, and he knitted his eyebrows in sudden question as he noticed the way she instantly sidestepped his reply. “You’re serious?” he retorted and her eyes were frantically scanning the room.

He knew she knew exactly what he meant, “Don’t say that… if it's what I think, don’t say it” she said, her voice barely audible. He made his way to her but she shook her head and began bouncing her knee anxiously. “Jooheon, we promised- you promised” she then added, fixing her gaze on his, and he felt scolded by the tone of her voice, the heavy guilt settling on his chest and making his heart pick up its pace. “I know-” he started but she cut him off with a scoff, “Why didn’t you say something? Why did you wait so long?” she asked incredulously. He felt his jaw tighten as he dropped his gaze to the floor, because he had an answer to that, and it was a foolish one.

“We can’t stop being friends, you hear me?” she said, but her voice cracked and gave way to the tears she quickly wiped off her cheeks. Only then did he look up, and he wished he hadn’t, “You can’t say that to me” he replied and she locked her gaze with his, “Jooheon, you’re giving us up over this?” she asked and it was enough to spark a frustration inside of him. “This, isn’t just me wanting to sleep with you- it’s not about that- this is about me liking you so much” he spat out and her eyes widened in disbelief.

He was starting to feel his heart beat hard against his chest, because in the last five months, this was the first time he had said the words out loud. “So we can’t be friends, because I can’t be your friend if I want to get over you” he added, and he felt his hands shake a little as he dropped his gaze once more and leaned against the wall across from her. The only sound between the two of them were each others suppressed breaths, as she tried holding back from crying and he held back from shouting. She finally wiped her cheeks once more and nodded, but she couldn’t seem to move from her spot.

He took in a deep breath and pushed himself off the wall, his steps hesitant as he made his way to her. He stood right before her and only after a few seconds did she finally look up at him. She shook her head in one last attempt to hold her tears off, but it was useless. She leaned her head against him and began to cry, and he rested one of his hands on the back of her head.

Her hands came to cling at the fabric of his shirt tightly, then she moved to wrap her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed against his stomach. She whimpered softly and he had to pull away, making her stand before him so he could properly embrace her.

As soon as she was standing in front of him, she threw her arms around him and held him close. He did the same, his cheek against hers and he wanted nothing more than to hold her this way forever. He wanted to kiss her and promise to her that he’d be her only one, or that at least he’d be by her side. He couldn’t properly wrap his head around what he was asking of himself. He was sure he didn’t fully grasp the fact that he wanted to never speak to her again. This meant if he ever saw her, and he knew he would, he’d only be able to pretend they never knew each other while remembering everything about her.

No words were exchanged for several minutes until she was pulling away and giving him one last look. He could tell she was thinking about the consequences of kissing him and maybe even taking it further one last time. He knew she was thinking that, because so was he, and her boyfriend came to mind but he wanted to kick that thought out just as quickly as it appeared. Maybe neither should have thought of him and gone further, but she did, because what he was feeling at having her in his arms, she was feeling much differently.

He was her friend, and she loved him that way, but any longer and he’d be loving her as more.  

She was walking out of his life, and that alone made his legs weak as she let go of him, her head down as she made her way to his front door.

As soon as he heard her leave, he leaned against the wall once again and let out a shuddered breath.

Truth be told, he had seen this coming several months before, but he never thought he’d have to go as far as letting her go.

[anamelesstraveler]

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Bodhi Rook’s Guide to Love

A SniperPilot fanfic. Rated G.

Complete | 2,521 words

 Ten Mistakes that will Lead You to Winter Fun, Love, and Laughter (via Meddling Sisters and Nosy Coworkers)

By the end of the day, Bodhi will count ten mistakes leading up to kissing Detective Cassian Andor.

This story includes PINING (so much pining), modern AU, detective Cassian Andor, Mechanic Bodhi Rook, and the two of them being stuck on a ski lift.

By the end of the day, Bodhi will count ten mistakes leading up to kissing Detective Cassian Andor.

Mistake #1 had been agreeing to go with Jyn for a long weekend at this ski resort without question, which Bodhi can tell you is never a wise idea. His sister is far too clever for her own good, and innocent offers for a vacation are never actually innocent. Mistake #2 had been rising to her challenge when she’d, oh-so-casually, mentioned she’d invited her coworkers Cassian Andor and Kay Tuesso as well.

Bodhi isn’t sure where exactly mistake #3 had been made, perhaps somewhere between calling his sister on her underhanded, completely unsubtle schemes (only making it worse for himself) and not immediately protesting when his and Cassian’s separate rooms “mysteriously” turned into a double. Mistakes #4 through #7 have been each time Bodhi accepted Jyn shoving the two of them together for activities or at meals with only a mild reluctance.

(There had been the sledding the first day. And the ice sculpture exhibition in the village below the resort that evening. And Bodhi “suddenly” being the only one who was willing to accompany Cassian down to the lodge’s rec room. And, most painful of all, discovering that Cassian had also been told about the hot tub on the glassed in balcony at the back of the lodge - that one Bodhi almost hadn’t survived.)

So when the ski lift shudders to a creaking stop in the middle of its ascent on day three, Bodhi only closes his eyes, and mentally counts this as mistake #8, and turns to Cassian with a gentle wince. “That… doesn’t sound good,” he chuckles nervously.

He watches the way Cassian’s jaw clenches, that and the slight pinched look around his eyes the only indication of unease. He leans forward a few scant inches, peering over the safety rail. Several meters below them it’s only snow and other resort goers on the slope. “Maybe they just had a delay with someone getting on,” Cassian suggests.

Bodhi nods. “Could be.” They sit back in silence for several seconds, and then minutes. The lift doesn’t start back up again. The seat ahead of them on the line shifts, the passengers peering around each side of the bench. The passengers on the downward line opposite of them are starting to do the same - not that any of them can see anything from their position in the middle of the lift.

“I’m sure it will start up soon,” Bodhi reassures. Who he’s reassuring, he’s not sure. It might be both of them.

The ski lift doesn’t start up soon. Bodhi watches at least fifteen minutes tick by on his watch, his heart sinking with every passing one. It’s not the cold that’s the problem, even if Bodhi shrinks back against the seat to get out of the wind - they’re bundled up pretty well. It’s not even the height.

It’s his horrible, inescapable crush on Cassian Andor that’s the problem.

It’s truly the most unfortunate thing in Bodhi’s life at the moment, and he’s helpless to stop it. In fact, it only seems to be getting worse the longer he knows the man. But what’s Bodhi supposed to do, when even the smallest of Cassian’s smiles lights up his whole face like that - makes his eyes sparkle just so? What’s he supposed to do when that lock of hair slips from behind his ear when he’s concentrating on something? Or today, when that little girl had slipped on her skis and Cassian had rushed over to help her up, all kind eyes and gentle hands?

When they’d first been introduced, Bodhi had thought of Cassian as solemn and stern. And while Bodhi can still see that solemness about him, he’s also discovered the relaxed warmth of the other man and…

Look, Bodhi doesn’t stand a chance, alright? He’s hopelessly, disgustingly in love with Cassian Andor, who is light years out of his league and only barely knows Bodhi exists, and only then because he’s Jyn’s partner.

Bodhi lets out a quiet sigh, his breath billowing out in the chilly air, and slumps back against the seat. He lets his hand slide off the railing and down beside him, and jolts when his gloved fingers come into contact with Cassian’s hand, rather than the wood and plastic of their lift. The seat rocks with the force of his flinch. “Oh, I’m sorry--” he stops, the flash of fear in Cassian’s eyes and the way his other hand clutches at the rails bringing him up short. Instinctively, his hand finds Cassian’s again. He can’t bring himself to feel bad about it. Not when he’s never seen a look like that on Cassian’s face before. “You okay?”

Cassian’s eyes linger on Bodhi’s gloved hand on top of his, but he doesn’t comment on it. Which is… good, right? It’s a sign that Cassian at least appreciates the gesture; that the thought of sharing a completely innocent touch with Bodhi doesn’t disgust him.

(Bodhi tells himself not to think about the feel of Cassian’s hand under the thick glove. The tiniest trace of warmth he imagines he can feel. Don’t think about it, Bodhi. Don’t be that pathetic.)

“I’m… okay,” Cassian says finally. But there’s a tremor of uncertainty under it. “I’m just not good with heights.”

Bodhi’s heart clenches in his chest. “You’re afraid of heights? Cassian, you didn’t have to come up with me…”

“No, I’m not--” Cassian releases his tight grip on the safety bar, and reaches up to tuck a stray lock of his long hair back up into his hat. It’s a nervous gesture this time. “I wanted to come up. I’m usually okay. I was okay just sitting here during the ride up. But then… the lift stopping and the swaying…” He looks a little ill just saying it, and Bodhi gently squeezes his hand. “After I fell, you know…”

Bodhi does know. The first time he met Cassian Andor was because he went to visit Jyn at the hospital, and gave in to her demands to wheel her down the hall to see Cassian. Jyn had walked out of the warehouse that day with a dislocated shoulder, a busted knee, and Krennic in handcuffs. Cassian had taken a nasty fall off one of the catwalks and survived with three fractured vertebrae, a fractured hip, and a broken leg. The fact that Cassian had recovered from his injuries even half as well as he did is, frankly, a miracle.

“I get it,” Bodhi says. He twists in his seat, taking care not to rock the car too much. Cassian’s eyes still keep drifting to the space between the safety bar and the seat. “Hey. Look at me?”

After a moment, Cassian obeys.

This… this is definitely mistake #9. Because Bodhi isn’t used to being the sole focus of Cassian’s gaze. He’s accustomed to seeing the intensity of the man’s warm, dark eyes - looking on something that isn’t him. A case file. A piece of tech. A steely, disapproving glare at Kay. But… not like this. His breath lodges in his throat, and he feels overheated despite the winter chill.

‘Don’t,’ Bodhi tells himself. ‘Don’t. Don’t think about kissing him. This is not the time.’ If he wants to accomplish that, he should probably stop looking at Cassian’s mouth.

Bodhi clears his throat, wetting his chapped lips. “We could talk about something? That’s not, you know, being stuck up here.”

Cassian’s head tips endearingly. “That… that would help. About what, then? About my cases?”

Bodhi rolls his eyes. “No. No work talk. Work talk is officially banned by our agreement remember? Let’s… let’s talk about something else. Like what we like doing outside of work.”

“That means you can’t talk about anything car or plane related,” Cassian counters, arching a brow at him.

“I like things other than my cars and my plane, thanks.”

“Oh yeah?” The challenge can’t even be called subtle anymore.

“Yeah,” Bodhi laughs, squaring himself up. “I… I like a lot of things.” You. “Um. I do metalwork. I take spare parts--”

“No cars.”

“They’re car parts sometimes, yeah, smart ass. Let me finish.” Bodhi can’t bring himself to even be annoyed when Cassian laughs gently, that smile lighting up his face again. He still looks a little nervous, pointedly keeping his face turned away from the great void of air in front of them. He’s turned in his seat now too, the two of them leaning closer to center to be heard over the occasional breeze and the sound of the skiers below. “I turn them into windchimes and mobiles and fountains. Statues and stuff.”

“You do?” Cassian asks, softer now. “Do you sell them?”

“Yeah, some of them.”

“D’you have pictures?”

“Y-Yeah, on my phone. I can… show you when we get back to the lodge tonight?”

“I’d like that,” Cassian says, in that same tone. Bodhi’s face heats.

“So… and you, then? What secret hobby does Detective Cassian Andor have?”

Cassian’s nose wrinkles. “Don’t say it like that. I’m not anything special.”

“I think you are,” Bodhi insists, and immediately wants to kick himself. Especially when Cassian’s eyes go wide - like the compliment is something unthinkable. Bodhi doesn’t even know where to begin with that. “You are. Um. But anyway, what’s your… thing?”

“I… cook?”

Bodhi leans a little closer. “Really?”

The man nods. “I find it soothing. I have this book of recipes that was my mother’s. She was a brilliant cook. The recipes are all modified and marked up by her with these little notes. It, ah, lets me feel close to her.” At least now Cassian doesn’t seem to be focusing on the heights anymore. His smile is almost shy, maybe a little sad. Bodhi clenches his hands to keep them still, to keep from reaching out.

“That’s amazing, Cassian,” he says honestly.

“You think so?” Those lovely eyes glance back up at him through dark lashes. “I could make something for you, sometime.” And it turns out that Bodhi doesn’t have to restrain himself, because Cassian is the one who reaches out, hesitating for only a moment before laying a hand over Bodhi’s.

Bodhi stares at it, and then up at Cassian. Who is watching him expectantly. “Wait. What?”

Cassian averts his gaze, biting his lip almost nervously, before Bodhi can actually see him steeling himself. “I’d like to have dinner with you, Bodhi. If you’d like that?”

His mouth drops open, nothing coming out of it for a few seconds too long. And then he sputters. “Did-Did Jyn put you up to this?”

Cassian, who has been looking more guarded with every passing second, pauses. “Wait. What?”

“Jyn! She’s been-- she’s been doing this the whole time. Teasing me about my massive crush on her partner. Making sure we’re both on this trip. The thing with the rooms. Throwing us together everyday. Did she tell you to go for it? Because… because I don’t need a pity date, Cassian. I could just be your friend if--” A gloved hand covers his mouth.

“Bodhi…” Cassian says.

“Mmph?”

“...I thought Jyn was making fun of me for my ‘massive crush’ on her brother.” He draws his hand away, and Bodhi knows he must be gaping like a fish, because he smiles. “You’re not going to give me a pity date, right?”

“It wouldn’t be pity,” Bodhi whispers.

And this is mistake #10. Because this time, Cassian’s smile is nothing short of stunning and Bodhi is never going to be able to come back from this. This moment, here, stuck on this stupid ski lift in the middle of winter, is going to mark a turning point in Bodhi’s life. Before he fell in love with Cassian Andor, and after. They’re tucked close, sharing warmth high above a world that has all but fallen away. Cassian shivers as the wind brushes by them, or maybe it’s from something else - something to do with Bodhi’s gaze dipping to his lips. And… isn’t that just the most amazing thing?

The kiss takes Bodhi by surprise, but he’s not sure which of them actually closes the gap. Cassian’s beard scrapes against his own. His lips are chapped. Bodhi can feel the warm puff of his breath across his face. And it’s perfect. They break apart with a mingled sigh, but Bodhi can’t bear the thought of pulling away. Cassian, it seems, can’t either, because he brings a gloved hand up to Bodhi’s cheek. The slick material of his ski glove is… absolutely absurd, and Bodhi breathes out a laugh. “Did that just happen?” he asks.

Gloved fingers clumsily trace along his jawline. “It did,” Cassian remarks with a note of awe.

God. Bodhi lifts a hand to do the same, curling his fingers in the folds of Cassian’s scarf. “Can it happen again? Who knows how long we’ll be up here.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad anymore. Just as long as you we don’t rock the car.”

Bodhi can’t help himself, and arches a brow suggestively. He opens his mouth, searching for a suitable innuendo for that, and is promptly tugged forward again.

“Don’t say a word,” Cassian laughs against his mouth.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Bodhi says, and tips his head for a better angle. And in fact, after that, he doesn’t think about much else. Nothing other than the fact that if he were allowed, he’d keeping kissing Cassian and never stop. Even around all of their winter gear and the fact that he actually can’t feel the chill of Cassian’s skin through his gloves.

“Oi, lovebirds!”

“Damnit, Jyn,” they both hiss in tandem. They reluctantly pull away, peering back over the rail. (Cassian keeps his grip on Bodhi’s coat as he does. It’s such a little thing, but Bodhi give his wrist a reassuring squeeze anyway.) Below them on the slope, standing along the course partition, are Jyn and Kay. The pair waves up at them, and even from up here Bodhi can see the downright wicked smiles on their faces.

“You’re looking cozy!” Jyn shouts.

Bodhi lets out a miserable groan. “Why me?” Beside him, Cassian hums in equally miserable agreement. “You’re not funny!” Bodhi calls back at her. “What are you doing down there?”

“Waiting for you two! Though I’m not sure why. Might as well leave you two up there to finally work out that sexual tension.”

Kay steps up beside her. “We heard the lift will be fixed shortly.”

A horrible thought occurs to him. “JYN, you didn’t do this, right?”

“Me?!” comes Jyn’s indignant yelp. Too indignant. His eyes narrow. “I am a police consultant, in the presence of a decorated police detective.” She gestures to Kay, who nods resolutely.

“She did it,” Bodhi sighs.

Cassian bites back a smile. “She definitely did.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll yell at her later.”

“Don’t.” Cassian shifts closer, slipping an arm around Bodhi’s waist. “We’ll get even.”

“I like the way you think.”

-----------------------------------------

END.

[thevagabondvantage]

8.31.2018

“Large Iced Americano!” The clear plastic cup gives off a cold-sweat, anxious to meet its new friend. I hand off the middle-class man’s chalice and continue to the next order. Please, God, let these people tip more than their spare change. My left shoulder is probably out of socket and my feet are sore, but what else is new? 

“Vanilla Latte - skim milk, half the ‘sweet stuff’!” Some bitch with an aggressive bob sweeps up to the bar for her barely-coffee. She looks at me in angst, as if saying, “I know your kind - a sorry fuck who jerks off just to fall asleep at night.” And she’s right, isn’t she? She grabs her collared cup, and bitch-walks her way out. Joke’s on her, though; I used whole milk.

I wish someone would have warned me that a Master’s degree in Philosophy qualified me for only one career: disgruntled barista. I’ve worked at Saint Espressõ since I graduated. Has it really been three and a half years already? It’s not that I’m not happy, but I’m not happy with not being sure if I’m happy or not. It’s not hard to understand! Or is it? I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m lonely. God, I’m lonely. The only lady friend I’ve made this year was a damn sexy cappuccino, and even she grew cold after about five sips. It’s a sad existence, but I’m getting over it.

“What can we brew for you today?” We’re required to say it, and I hate it more and more every time. Ninety-nine out of a hundred customers don’t understand the pun and continue on with their dumbass lives. I wish I could continue on with mine, but I have to waste a second of every transaction using that shitty line. My therapist says I should try to be more positive, but he doesn’t work for tips.

“Oh, I need just another minute, please.” She can have all the time she wants.

9:45 AM. I started work at 5:00 this morning... I was fine with the morning shift for a while, but it dawned on me recently exactly how strangely time moves. I can be at work for five hours, and it’ll still only be 10:00 AM. 10:00 in the morning! I clock out at noon-thirty and still have an entire day to fill. I should go to bed earlier, but there are just so many episodes of Frasier I haven’t seen and so little time to binge them, so I’m just in a perpetual state of exhaustion, RBF, and witty sitcom-style comebacks. 

Life as a sitcom would be so much easier; you can afford a lavish apartment, all your problems are solved in twenty-two minutes or less, and - most importantly - people have to laugh at your employer-mandated puns. I look back at the clock on the register; 9:46 AM - joy.

“I’ll take a spiced chai latte!” Finally.

“Anything else for you?”

“That’s all!”

“$5.45.” She pulls out exact change - at least someone’s making my job easier.

“We’ll have that for you in just a moment.” She grabs her receipt and finds a chair near the window. The woman and her wallet look so content - the lucky bitches. Luke, returning from his break, nudges me aside to clock back in. 

I quite like Luke. He’s only worked with me for about six months now, but we’ve grown fond of one another, I think. He’s a pretty chill dude; I like him because he minds his own business. Our other regular barista, Danielle, is a squirrel of a girl; her hair scatters upward into a loose bun - making her look somewhat like an acorn... She scurries in for the second shift, just as mine is ending. This leaves just enough time to exchange pleasantries and go our similar but separate ways. She just started a Bachelor’s in Communication at Cal State, which only encourages her nosy demeanor. We’d gone on a few dates a couple years ago, but we prefer to never speak of it.

“When you finish the chai, can you start a French press of the Italian dark roast?” I give a simple nod in response. When we work together, Luke usually mans the register while I tango with the espresso machine. It’s an unspoken rule, and I’m really grateful for it. He’s a lot better with the general public - his “bro” mentality definitely comes in handy. We joke around and like to grab a beer when we don’t have the early shift the next morning. 

I’d never tell him, but I consider him a close friend. He’s one of the few people who can hold a conversation on any topic without bullshitting the bejesus out of it. My only other regular friends are Will, who I’ve known since middle school, and Trish, who dated my college roommate for a time. He dumped the poor girl like a bucket. I tried to grab the rebound, but she shot into the friendzone. She’s bitchy and hilarious, so I’ve claimed her as my own. I’d consider my roommate, Tristan, a good friend, but he’s just so…so Tristan...

“Spiced chai latte!” Exact-change Bernice says a quick word of thanks and prances away. I get the French press going and sit down for a minute. There are only two other people here: Bill, who sets up his office in the corner booth, and a teenage girl who’s most definitely skipping school. Since we’re pretty slow mid-morning, Luke leans onto the counter while I claim the stool. I take a sip of water - my first since before the morning rush; Luke stares at his green tea, grinning like a fool. I’ve had some damn good teas in my twenty-six years, but none have ever made me smile like that…

“You’ve got the worst poker face in existence,” I jeer at him. He chuckles.

“Like yours is any better,” he mocks in response. It is, but that’s beside the point. He takes another sip and sighs in contentment. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Always.”

“You can’t tell anyone. Like, anyone!”

“Just get to the point!”

“Alright!” He takes an expected breath. “I’m proposing to Rose tonight.”

“Shit, man!” This isn’t what I expected to hear. “Congrats and all, but you’ve only dated for a couple months - pretty quick...”

“No, I know, but I know. You know?” I hate when people say shit like that. “Rose got a job in Houston and we’ll never last the long distance stuff. I can’t be the one to hold her back, so the only way we can make this work is if I go with her, and the only way she’ll allow that is if I give her the ring. We’ve talked about it a lot, and I think it’s the right thing.”

“Wow. Uh, wow. When do you move? You know, if she says yes…” Thankfully, he laughs at my awkwardness.

“Oh, she’ll say yes! She practically planned the whole thing. End of the month. We’re excited to take it to the next level! I think I’m finally ready to start settling down.”

“Dude,” I sort of sigh. I’m disappointed as hell. The one guy I thought I could count on, leaving. I’m not upset with him - that’d be dumb. I’m just… You know? I swallow the news, take a breath, and move on. “I’m happy for you - honestly!” He smiles in relief.

“I’m glad you say that, because I have a favor to ask.” No, Luke, I will not cover your shifts while you play house. “I want you to be in the wedding!”

“Me… For real?”

“For real! You’ve been a great coworker and an even better bro, and I can’t think of many other people I’d like standing by my side for this. What do you say?”

“Well I’d be one massive dick if I didn’t say yes…” We chuckle. “Of course, man. It’d be, as they say, an honor.” I pull out a distasteful British accent, accompanied by a royal curtsey. He punches me in the shoulder.

“You’re the best, Walker - really.” 

“Someone needs to tell the ladies that, too…” I’m dead serious. We seal the deal with a quick slap-hug, like grown-ass men.

“Just wait, you’re gonna see major changes in your life. You could meet your girl any minute!” He grabs the French press from the counter and goes to deliver it to the rightful customer.

That bastard; he better be right… I check the time - 9:55. I’m the most impatient person I know; this day might actually kill me.

The door opens - in walks another customer. I normally don’t notice or care, but Luke’s words play on a loop in my head. You could meet you girl any minute… I keep my head down to keep my composure. I want the first time I see this girl to be perfect. I want to be confident and cool and collected. She scurries to the register and stops. I’m so nervous, I could die. 

“What can we brew for you today?” I recite, still looking down. A sitcom laugh track would have been great right about now... Okay, here we go….

“I asked for skim milk.” A cup is shoved into my face. I’m practically breathing non-biodegradable drinkware through my left nostril.

“Excuse me?” I look up to meet the scowl of the aggressive-bob bitch. 

“I asked for skim milk.”

Well, shit.

[justsomebucky]

Ten Years (Part 1)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,327

Warnings: language, snark, memories of cheaters

A/N: I have no words. Bucky Barnes continues to keep my attention. Hopefully you guys like this!

“What have you got there?”

You looked up from your desk, where you were currently sorting through the mail you’d grabbed this morning at your apartment building. Your coworker Wanda was leaning over the side of your cube, watching you with interest.

“I was running late, so I just threw my mail in my bag,” you explained. “Just trying to make sure I didn’t miss anything important. I’m sure it’s just bills and junk like that.”

She reached out and grabbed a long envelope that had some fancy writing on the front.

“Okay, nosy,” you said with a laugh. You reached out to grab it back, but you were too slow, watching as she opened it. “That’s a federal offense, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wanda eyed the paper carefully. “Well, what do we have here? It’s an invite to your ten year high school reunion coming up.”

“I figured. I’ve been seeing things on Facebook about it, but I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

You quickly snagged the invite back from her while she looked at you. “Because I’m not. I just have no desire to go. Why does there always have to be some big thing with you? Some grand explanation?”

Wanda was a hopeless romantic, and she always made things out to be ten times more dramatic than a normal person should.

“Because avoiding your past without explanation means there’s something you’re hiding,” she guessed. “Are you hiding something?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” you muttered, turning back to your laptop. “Go away, I have work to do.”

“No, you don’t,” she laughed. “You finished your project up last week. I know for a fact that they haven’t assigned you a new one yet.”

“They will.” You bit your lip, hoping it was true. Wanda had a new account already, and so did your cube-mate Sam Wilson, but you had yet to get a new project. “You know how slow things are in the beginning of the year.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t. They barely let me take a breath before throwing another project at me. In fact, right now I have two accounts to manage and neither are all that great.”

It did kind of worry you that you hadn’t gotten a new project or account yet. Normally they were assigned one after the other, and you were up to your ears in trying to manage each one.

You worked for a firm that specialized in public relations and marketing. You’d been there for just under six months, and while you weren’t very high up the ladder yet, you had a basic idea of where the company wanted to go and what was expected of you.

The newest focus was ‘clean-up,’ meaning anytime something bad happened, your firm would swoop in and try to salvage the image of a person, a company, or even a government agency.

The two projects that Wanda had now were both companies that had been charged with tax evasion. She was supposed to come up with a plan to improve their images domestically. It was pretty boring, but accounts meant work, which meant job security, so you weren’t about to judge them.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Sam returning from lunch. “Wanda,” he said with a nod. His eyes met yours. “What are you two birds on about now?”

“Oh, just how Y/N doesn’t have a new project yet,” Wanda replied airily.

You rolled your eyes. “She thinks I’m being made redundant already.”

Sam shook his head as he typed his password into his laptop. “Something big is coming up. The boss has been telling people to take on less little projects so that he can find the right team. Not even Barnes has something going on right now.”

Ah, James Buchanan Barnes, better known as Bucky.

He was the golden boy of the firm, the one coworkers and clients adored, and all of management worshipped. He was a go-getter, they said, someone to count on for that perfect pitch. He was a deal closer, a legend in his field, and he wasn’t that much older than you.

He had an ego to match, too. Everyone in the office said he was standoffish and smug.

The only time you’d ever encountered him in your entire time with the company so far, besides in passing or team meetings, was on the elevator the very first day you started. He’d asked if you were new, and you said yes, explaining that you were joining the account management team, completely oblivious as to who he was. You made the mistake of asking him what floor the team worked on, as you’d only been to the HR department so far, and he’d told you the fifth floor. He was even nice enough to press the button for you on the panel in front of him.

At least, that’s what you thought at the time.

When you got out of the elevator, though, you quickly realized you’d been had, and that the fifth floor was accounting. As you turned around to get back on the elevator, you saw him smirk as he let the doors shut in your face.

You’d taken the stairs to the seventh floor, where all the account managers were, grumbling under your breath about how you already loathed him and his new employee hazing. That’s how it had been since. You were competition, and he was having none of it.

He treated everyone like competition, and he was definitely married to his job. You didn’t even have the energy to try to keep up, so you weren’t sure what it was about you that made him particularly irritated.

“He must be getting inside information if he’s not taking on any projects,” you reasoned. “No way would he let himself go five minutes without praise or some new, made-up company award. Maybe we should all be worried.”

“You’re too hard on the guy. It’s not his fault he’s brilliant,” Wanda replied, shaking her head. “He earned it.”

Wanda was a straight up fan of Bucky’s. She adored him, hung on his every word. It wasn’t a crush, no, she was in a healthy, stable relationship. She just looked at him as many people used to look at Steve Jobs, or Elon Musk; as if he was a genius and trailblazer in his field and deserved admiration.

He was still human to you, though, and you weren’t afraid to argue with her. “Maybe he did earn his success, but he’s still an egomaniac.”

“I’m with Y/N on this one,” Sam added. “He may be good at his job, but he’s not a gift to earth. He walks through the halls like he’s too good to talk to anyone.”

“He could be antisocial or something. Maybe he’s shy, you don’t know!”

You eyed Wanda. “Don’t you think your hero worship is getting a little out of hand?”

“No, I just think he’s brilliant!” She frowned at you, crossing her arms. “If you can’t see it, then you’re obviously still pissed off about the elevator thing. Or!” Wanda’s eyes lit up. “Maybe you are so anti-Bucky because you secretly want him to grab you and have his way with you in the boardroom!”

You felt your face heat up, and you turned away from her.

That was so not the case.

“You’re crazy.” The reply was weak and you knew it, but it was the best you could do for now. You frowned, turning back to her as Wanda’s grin grew bigger. “Don’t even take that as a confirmation. He’s a blip on the radar. I barely notice him.”

“All right, if you two don’t mind, I actually do have an account to manage, so go scurry off and have your girl talk someplace else.” Sam turned back around, and you shrugged at Wanda, your job predicament momentarily forgotten as the two of you went off to lunch.

---

You and Wanda found a quiet table near the window at the café across the street. Lunch was your favorite part of the day, frankly, because it gave you a chance to recharge your energy, something that was definitely needed in the business world. Dealing with people all day, especially people who wanted you to work miracles in an instant for a fraction of the true cost, was draining.

Food was also one of your favorite things. Wanda got a modest fruit salad, but you opted for a yummy cheese sandwich. Everyone was always swearing off bread, but since you didn’t have a gluten allergy, you flat-out refused.

“So tell me why you aren’t going to your reunion again?”

You shrugged at the other woman, unwrapping your food. “I just don’t have a lot of good memories, that’s all.”

She stared at you expectantly.

“Fine,” you sighed, setting your sandwich down. “I left home on Long Island to come work here in the city, and I haven’t really been back since. My parents moved to Florida, and my older sister moved to California, and I don’t have any ties left to my hometown.”

“No one?”

Should you mention anyone? You didn’t really have ties so much as situations. Was it worth it? You knew Wanda wasn’t going to leave you alone until you gave a solid explanation for your anxiety.

“There was a guy that I was seeing all through high school,” you began softly, picking at the bread in front of you. “His name was Clint, and I thought for sure that we would go off to school together, maybe to Hofstra or something, and we would get married and be together forever.” You looked back up at her.

Her gaze softened in sympathy. “I’m guessing there was a messy breakup?”

You nodded, looking away again. “He cheated on me with my best friend.”

“No,” she gasped. “That’s so dramatic.”

“Yeah, well…I was heartbroken, humiliated, all the bad stuff that comes with it. I cut all ties with everybody.”

“And let me guess, they are still together?”

You nodded. “They live somewhere in or near the city now. She makes big bucks working over at Stark Industries, and he’s a personal bodyguard for the mayor or something.”

“Blech.”

“Exactly.” You picked up your sandwich and took a big bite. The two of you ate your lunch in silence for a moment.

“Are you okay with it, or are there still feelings lingering?”

You thought about it for a moment, before shaking your head. “They are good together. I think maybe they were the ones who should have been together the whole time. It was just bad timing and circumstance.”

Wanda smiled. “I think you should go to your reunion. Take a date, make it seem like you don’t have a care in the world. Maybe then you can let go of this crap and move on, and be able to think about home without cringing.”

You shook your head. “I can’t even find someone to go for drinks in a city of millions of people, what makes you think I’m going to find one to go home to Long Island and my reunion with me?”

“You never know,” Wanda said, shrugging. “The world works in mysterious ways.”

“Okay, no more Hallmark Channel movies for you.” You laughed and ducked when she threw a grape at your head.

---

Once lunch was over, you and Wanda made your way through the small lobby to the elevator banks.

Just before the doors closed to take you back to work, Bucky Barnes stepped on with the two of you, sparing each of you a glance. “Wanda. Y/N.” He turned his attention to the numbers above the door as the elevator began to move.

“Bucky,” Wanda sighed out, giving you a small smile, as if to say ‘I told you so.’ “How are your accounts going?”

“Fine.” He still wouldn’t look at either of you.

She fidgeted, but didn’t ask anything more. Thank goodness that sometimes even Wanda could tell when to keep her trap shut.

When the elevator reached the seventh floor, you moved to get out first. “Excuse me,” you told him as you brushed past. So maybe it was a little cold, a little snotty of you to do that, but you didn’t want him to send you off to the basement or something.

Wanda hurried to catch up with you as you marched back to the cube you shared with Sam. “What the hell was that about?”

“Oh come on, Wanda, I was polite. I just didn’t want a hazing repeat.” You flopped down at your desk, watching as Bucky strode by down the hallway to his own desk. “He didn’t even give a crap.”

“Not true,” she insisted. “He looked up in total surprise.”

“Maybe it was surprise that you weren’t going on about ‘Oh Bucky, please go ahead, you’re so brilliant and wonderful,’” you said, mocking her earlier tone. “Is that the surprise he showed?”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “Fine. I can see I’m not getting anywhere.” She leaned over and yanked Sam’s earbud out. “Try to convince her to go to her ten year high school reunion today. I have some actual accounts to work on.”

“What, and I don’t?” he called to her retreating form. Sam looked at you in question.

“Forget it,” you muttered. Your mood was already soured by the day’s events, and you still had a few hours to go. “Don’t listen to Wanda.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Now leave me be. I’m right in the middle of the Trouble Man soundtrack.” He turned back around and put his earbud back in.

In the moments of quiet that followed, you found yourself unable to focus on anything except that stupid invitation that was sitting there, blatantly mocking you. All you could see was Clint, with his arms around-

You shook your head, turning back to your laptop.

No way were you going.

No way.

---

Part 2

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