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ahundredtimesover · 9 months

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I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow��slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee.

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile.

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss.

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh.

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved.

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again.

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.”

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.”

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that.

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly.

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong.

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants.

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face.

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly.

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in.

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—”

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true.

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his.

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay.

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss.

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room.

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?”

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head.

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down.

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile.

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues.

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass.

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala.

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell.

He’s unfairly handsome.

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze.

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him.

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters.

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say.

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says.

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached.

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway.

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok.

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them.

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point.

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison.

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind.

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds.

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around.

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father.

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk.

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out.

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says.

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly.

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day.

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day.

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks.

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so.

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you.

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily.

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised.

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs.

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?”

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in.

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed.

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first.

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected.

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make.

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed.

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings.

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done.

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough.

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough.

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon.

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day.

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting.

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t.

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting.

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you.

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs.

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same.

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge.

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files.

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents.

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that.

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door.

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger.

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes.

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.”

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours.

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything.

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you?

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation.

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do.

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty.

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more.

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you.

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?”

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies.

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle.

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites.

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment.

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction.

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing.

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it.

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career.

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm.

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this.

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder.

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today.

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision.

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you.

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly.

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede.

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply.

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know? But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs.

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks.

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans.

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans.

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says.

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now.

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 5 days

Text

Ego check

Word count: 803

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: At a crowded party, you challenge Lando Norris's inflated ego by advising him on how to engage genuinely

My request are open

________________________________________________________

Just as you were about to retreat to a quieter corner, a guy slid up next to you, a cocky smirk already plastered on his face. His dark brown hair was tousled in that "I didn't try, but I totally did" way, and he carried himself with an air of entitlement that you could sense from a mile away.

"You must know who I am," he said without so much as a hello.

You blinked at him, unimpressed, and took another sip of your drink. "Should I?" you replied, your voice calm but pointed.

His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Lando. Lando Norris. I race in Formula 1."

You shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "That's nice."

He stared at you like you had just spoken in a foreign language. "You don’t know who I am? Lando Norris? F1 driver?" He leaned in closer as if trying to figure out if you were messing with him.

You tilted your head slightly, keeping your cool. "I heard you the first time. Just not sure why I should care."

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. His ego was massive, and you could tell he was used to people fawning over him, especially at events like this. But you weren’t interested in that kind of attitude. You liked funny, genuine people—not guys who thought their fame gave them a free pass to be arrogant.

"You know," you said, setting your drink down on the bar, "if you want people to like you, you might want to try being a little less full of yourself. The whole 'do you know who I am' thing? Not cute."

He stared at you, speechless for a moment, clearly not used to being spoken to like that. But instead of getting defensive or annoyed, something in his expression changed. It was subtle at first—his posture relaxed a little, the smirk faded, and his eyes softened as he studied you.

"Okay," he said after a beat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What should I say, then?"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden shift in attitude. "Well, for starters, you could try saying 'Hi, I’m Lando. What’s your name?' You know, like a normal person."

He let out a short laugh, and you could tell the arrogance was melting away. "Hi," he said, still grinning but in a way that felt more real this time. "I’m Lando. What’s your name?"

You smiled back, feeling a little bit of your initial annoyance fade. "That’s better. I’m Y/n."

The conversation shifted after that. Lando dropped the cocky attitude, and instead of talking about himself, he started asking about you—your interests, what brought you to the party, and what you liked to do for fun. He cracked a few jokes, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected to.

It was almost like you had flipped a switch in him. The arrogance that had initially repelled you had given way to something softer, more genuine. He started to talk about his passion for racing in a way that wasn’t about impressing you, but about sharing something he loved.

And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on you when you spoke, how his laugh was a little louder at your jokes, how he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company.

By the time you were getting ready to leave, Lando looked at you with an intensity that hadn’t been there before.

"You know," he said, leaning against the bar, "I think you’re the first person in a long time who hasn’t cared who I am. It’s kind of refreshing."

You smiled, grabbing your bag. "That’s because I care more about who people are, not what they do."

Lando ran a hand through his hair, looking a little flustered for the first time all night. "I think I could get used to that. Would it be too forward if I asked to see you again?"

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth in your chest as you looked at him, no longer the arrogant guy who had first approached you but someone you might actually want to get to know.

"I guess we’ll see," you said with a grin before turning to leave.

And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but notice Lando watching you, looking completely smitten.

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fluff #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x y/n #lando noris #lando x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #reader imagine #reader

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reiderwriter · 1 year

Text

Margaritas and Mistakes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, smut coming in the next part (it's already written it just felt best to post them separately lmao).

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, some heavy petting and mention of sexual arousal. 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

A/N: Welcome back, it's my week off currently so I've been writing a copious amount of smut, so please enjoy this 3.6k word build up to more smut coming soon. Requests are still open, and you can find my masterlist here!

PART TWO!

You truly made all of your worst decisions when under the influence of alcohol. You blamed it on the fact that you really didn’t get the chance to go out all that often now that you were a full time member of the BAU Team. But the job was sometimes rewarding, and considering you’d been working on consultations all week and not a full time case, you were really looking forward to stretching your legs this friday night and getting some much needed relaxation in before you had to stare evil in the eye one more time.

“Girls’ Night Out! No male detectives, partners, Special Supervisory Agents, Unit Chiefs, OR Doctors!” Penelope cheered as you arrived at her apartment that night prior to your eventful outing.

“God I needed this,” Emily sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I got to kick back with a glass of chardonnay.”

“You sent me a picture of your drink two days ago, and it didn’t exactly look like water,” JJ laughed.

“Ah you see, my dear JJ, that wasn’t kicking back. That was therapy.”

“Honestly, though, it’s going to be good to get out of the house. I swear, the only places I’ve been for the last month have been my apartment and work,” you sigh, downing the last of the drink Penelope had handed you on the way in.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing, Y/N? Was he that bad?”

“Don’t even mention it. He took me back to his place and he didn’t even have a mattress on the floor, wanted us to do it on his couch,” you groan. “The couch that was also housing all of his laundry. And I’m not positive it was even clean laundry.”

You really had been having the absolute worst luck with men recently; other than your aforementioned tinder date, the only men who had shown any interest in you being serial killers who wanted to murder you and married cops looking to fool around with an FBI agent. Not the most auspicious of dating pools.

“Okay, operation get Y/N laid is a go. Ladies, your jobs tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to become the best wing-women this town has ever seen!” Penelope joked, and you found yourself giggling at just the idea, thankful that they were taking the time to try to cheer you up.

“Oh I’m all in. I’m warning you now, Y/N, my wing-woman success rate is pretty high. I’ve helped multiple couples achieve not only orgasm, but also marriage and kids.” Emily boasted.

“Emily, next time you might want to think about the wording of that one,” JJ laughed. “But I’m in too, you could use a little unwinding.”

“Not you too, JJ. You were supposed to be our voice of reason tonight.” You giggle into your cup, feeling the effect of your starter alcohol already.

“Nope. We’re having no responsible adults in our midst tonight. That’s why I’ve already arranged for our favourite Doctor to come and pick us up when the last of us falls tonight. He’s at a screening of some Indie Russian flick until 2am which is probably about perfect for our plans.”

This is the first you’ve heard of Penelope’s plans, but you’re not against it. With a solid escape route, you can let loose as much as you want tonight and know that all of your friends are fully able to have as much fun as possible tonight.

“Well, that’s the plan for us, sweetcheeks. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Penelope winked at you with a nefariously innocent look on her face. And suddenly you weren’t quite as sure you trusted her…

–X–

After your first margarita at the bar you were still feeling fine. Sure, you were talking a lot louder than you usually did, and if you saw yourself in the mirror you’d probably start giggling instantly at the stupid, semi-permanent grin on your face, but you were feeling so relaxed that it was of no consequence.

You’d moved swiftly from Penelope’s apartment to the nearest downtown bar. It looked pretty seedy to you, and the lighting was so low you could barely make out the faces of your friends in their seats at the same table as you, but you were sure some of that was just the alcohol blurring your vision.

Your hearing though was still in top shape, which was why when Penelope asked her next question, you almost spit the drink out of your mouth, rushing to laugh.

“Okay, fuck, marry, kill, Hotch, Morgan, Reid.” She giggled as she posed the question to her teammates.

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair.” Emily laughed at the question posed.

“You’re right, I don’t know a woman alive that doesn’t want a ride on my chocolate thunder.” Penelope let out a faux dreamy sigh and took another swig of her drink.

“And marrying Reid just seems wrong. He’s like our brother at this point.” JJ points out, just shuddering at the thought.

“So we’re all in agreement? Fuck Morgan, marry Hotch and lovingly bury Reid six foot under?” Emily laughs and the other two nod.

“Nope,” is all you manage to get out before going for another large gulp of your drink.

“Well, well, well, Y/N what would you be doing differently?” Emily snaps her head around to look at you, eager for the juicy details.

“None of you are curious what the doctor is packing?” You reply, almost innocently, unaware of the many plots culminating in the minds of your friends at that very second.

“Not at all. “Nope.” “That’s pretty gross, actually.” They all seem to reply at once, but Penelope pushes another drink into your hand as soon as you’re done and gets ready to launch a counter-attack.

“Are you curious about it?” She leaves it at that, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d have seen them all lean into you, desperate for your answer and ready to hang off of your every word. "Do you think about you and him… You know?"

“Every night,” you sigh dreamily. And you’re telling the truth. In the recent months, you’d found yourself waking up a little hot and bothered after some rather steamy midnight encounters with the Good Doctor. You’d become close to him over the few months you’d worked with him as a member of the team, but it wasn’t like you’d had a crush on him or anything. It was more like your body had an unconscious appreciation of his body. Or at least for certain parts of his body.

“His fingers are really nice, you know. And they’re big, too. Just makes a girl curious, s’all.” You down the proffered drink, hiding your remaining shame behind the glass.

“No, no, no babycakes, we’re gonna need more details than that if you’re gonna claim that you want to fuck Reid more than Morgan.” Penelope insisted, more forceful now than before.

“And what exactly does every night mean, Y/N? Something you should be telling us?” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at you and you lost it for a few seconds having a giggling fit.

“Okay, okay, it’s just… You’ve seen how he looks, right? And there was that one case three weeks back. He confronted that accomplice, and when he was about to bolt he slammed him against the wall and held him there like he’d barely broken a sweat. And you know how it is, we see Morgan kicking down doors on the daily, so I thought I wouldn’t be that interested in feats of physical strength, but my only thought in that moment was that I’d rather like him to slam…me…against that …wall.” You slowed down your speech at the end, looking up to see what looked to you like the grinning faces of three wolves staring down at their prey.

“And now I need another drink, anyone up for another round?” You squeaked out, changing the topic before any of the others could make their own comments.

–X–

Your second round of margarita’s was probably where things went irreversibly wrong for you. You’d returned to the table with two rounds of shots for all, having queued up four songs on the ancient jukebox you’d seen in the corner, hoping to entice the girls away from conversation, and it had worked.

After you’d bought the first two rounds, JJ had bought you another, and then Emily had splurged on another three, and then Garcia had rounded the hour out with one more shot, this time with sparklers attached.

So by the time you got back to your table and took a much needed swig of a drink that didn’t have to go down all at once, you were feeling well past drunk, to say the least.

But with the free-flowing alcohol came the lack of inhibition, so you really didn’t care. True to their word, the girls had been doing their best to convince you to dance with some of the guys in the bar since you’d gotten up, but truthfully none of them had enticed you.

But now, the night was running out, and the alcohol had you a bit hot and bothered, so when you felt a nice, hard body press up gently against yours, you decided to take advantage of the situation. Without looking back, you wrapped your hand around the one of his that had grazed your hips and held in there, moving your hips back and forth and beginning to grind back into your mystery man.

He was a little bit still at first, but eventually began making some slow movements along with you, and you could see the others cheering for you from a distance, Emily especially whooping from her perch at the bar.

You felt the voice lean down to your ear after a minute or so, and you tilted your neck up to hear the tall man a little better.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He whispered against your skin, still letting him guide you through the music. Had you been sober, you’d have realised the voice was more than familiar, especially since he’d said your name, but you were not, and so you did not.

“Well, if you’re lucky, tonight I’ll be doing you?” you giggled back, looking up at the man quickly. But with the hazy lights of the bar and the copious amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you don’t catch a good enough glimpse of the man to realise he’s your coworker.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says, when you start to pull him towards the bar, his grip on your hips tightening, accidentally pressing you back into what you expect to be his semi-erect cock, straining against your clothing.

“Oh, what, wanna take me home right now? That’s okay with me, mister.” You giggle, grinding back into him more intentionally this time. You grip his hand and try to force it up to touch more of you, utterly carefree about throwing yourself on what you presume to be a stranger in the middle of a bar.

Before you manage to, however, he lets out a frustrated groan and turns you around by your hips, forcing you to look him in the eye for a little bit longer, and all of your senses finally start working once again.

“Yes, Y/N, we’re going now. Penelope called me 15 minutes ago and said you were ready for that ride home and I can see now that she was right,” Reid leant down so you could hear him enough, but your brain was short circuiting.

You’d been grinding on your coworker. The one that had been the cause of so much of your sexual frustration for the past god knows how long. Spencer was right in front of you, and he hadn’t loosened his grip on you that much. Spencer was right in front of you and his erection was poking into you.

Really, your following actions shouldn’t be held against you in the slightest given the situation.

“Are you going to take me home, Doctor? Lay me down in bed and get me nice and comfortable?” you giggled up at the man, now enjoying the way your insinuations were making him blush.

“Y/N, you’re not being fair. We need to get the others and go,” he shot back, irritation dripping from his tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I being a bad girl?”

“You’re certainly being very difficult- what are you doing?” He jolted as you moved your hands to his fair, beginning to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s softer than I imagined it would be,” you giggled again, pressing yourself forward to press a kiss against his neck.

“Okay, we need to get you home,” he panicked, grabbing both of your hands, pressing them against your sides, spinning you around and walking you back towards the other girls.

“Hello Spencer~” the girls all giggled as you approached. You struggled against his grip a little, but he kept you firmly in place, man-handling you slightly, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Who let Y/N drink this much? Don’t answer that, you’ve all been drinking the same amount, right?” He left out a frustrated breath, and ran one hand through his hair. You attempted to move again, but he’d practically pinned you to the table. Your hips were pressed into the edge of it, his hips pressed against you, forcing you up against the table in a way that should have been uncomfortable. His other hand was resting near your discarded glass, caging you in almost entirely.

“Cars out front, lets go,” he said, his jaw twitching with anger now.

“No need, lover boy, taxis are coming to pick myself, Penelope and JJ up as we speak,” Emily slurred the words, but got the idea across well enough. “You’ll just be needing to take this little kitten home and you’re done for the night.”

They were all giggling now, as you let out a childlike yay, your excitement evident on your face.

“We’ll wait and see you all off together at least, so outside now. She needs some fresh air or something,” he was practically talking to a wall at that point, but after a few repetitions, the women acquiesced and moved outside.

“Ooh, that’s my taxi, gotta go,” Garcia practically runs from you the moment you step outside, and you wave at her whilst wrapped around one of Reid’s arms, stumbling with each step.

“Use protection my sweet babies,” she shouts as she slams the car door just as her car drives away, leaving a spluttering Spencer unable to respond that he’s not touching you tonight while you’re in this state.

The taxis for Emily and JJ arrive swiftly as well, and the two soon depart with similar messages and soon you find yourself alone with Spencer once again.

“So, your place or mine,” you smirk, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in the sweetest way you can manage.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk I may be, Doctor, but I absolutely know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want you to shove me against a wall and finger fuck me until I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

“Goddamnit, Y/N, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Oh you want me to be quiet? If you take my panties off and push them into my mouth maybe you could shut me up for a few minutes.”

“Get in the car, now.” You stick your tongue out at him, but hop into the passenger seat. He slams the door in your face and takes a few deep breaths before moving around and getting in himself.

–X–

Despite having the window open the entire car journey, hoping that the fresh air will do you some good, you’re still on top form when Spencer pulls up to your apartment.

“I didn’t even give you my address,” you pouted, as you tried, unsuccessfully, to remove your seatbelt.

“I memorised your file, now let’s get you into bed,” he unclasps it for you, and you use the close proximity to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you get into bed with me, hot stuff,” you wink at him and make for the door. “You know, you’re going to remember everything I said in the morning, right?” You asked him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered under his breath as he caught you just as you were about to teeter into the hedge on the shared green space. You wrapped your arms around his neck for the second time that night and stopped him in his tracks. Looking deep into his eyes, you took one of your hands and traced it gently over the side of his face and down his neck, your eyes following your fingers. He gulped involuntarily when you hit his adams apple, and you snapped your eyes back to him.

“Chances are that I’m probably not going to remember any of this, right?” You smiled up at him.

“Alcohol induced memory blackouts tend to occur in binge-drinkers whose alcohol levels have hit at least 0.16%, and further studies show that 50% of adults will experience some kind of alcohol-related memory loss in their lives, so yes, I’d say you’re probably not going to remember any of this.” He shot back, almost entirely still in anticipation of your next move.

“Good, then I might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts right.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, your lips crashed into his, and after a beat, his reciprocated, moving over yours just as hungrily. He moved now, walking you back to your door, lips still locked in a ferocious battle for dominance, until he pinched your arm slightly. You gasped a little, ready to pull back and complain about the pain, but suddenly his tongue was in your mouth and you were back at it all over again. He tapped your legs, signalling that he wanted you to jump into his arms, and you did, wrapping your legs around his centre tightly as he finished making his way to your apartment door.

Pulling away for the briefest of moments, he pulled your keys from your back pocket, and made quick work of your door.

“Bedroom, now Spencer, please I need you,” you whimpered in his arms, pressing kisses against his jaw and neck. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

“No. We are going to the bathroom, where you’re going to wash your makeup off, brush your teeth and change your clothes, and then you are going to get in bed and sleep.” He unceremoniously dropped you at the door of your bathroom, and you slid to the ground.

Pouting up at him, you felt the tears well in your eyes.

“No! I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you sounded like a petulant child and Spencer cursed a little under his breath when he looked down at you.

“Y/N listen to me very clearly, you’re not thinking straight. You’re way past the legal limit, you can’t consent to any of this and I’m not going to sleep with you and then have you forget it in twelve hours.” His tone was harsh, but you listened to him.

Picking yourself up off the floor, you followed his instructions and got yourself ready for bed.

“Okay, I’m all done now, Doctor,” you grumbled once you were done. You half expected him to have left you there, choosing to retreat whilst you cleaned yourself up, knowing that he’d already done what was asked of him by getting you home. But he was still there perched on your bed, and you made one last attempt to get what you wanted.

As he made his way to stand up, you used the last of your strength to push him back down again and climbed into his lap. This time though, you made no attempt to take anything further, just wrapping your arms and legs around him and burrowing into his shoulder. You had to admit, you were getting particularly sleepy now.

You let out a small yawn and burrowed further into his neck just as he opened his mouth.

“Y/N, please, what are you doing?” He sounded tired now, but didn’t attempt to push you off again.

“You said I was probably not going to remember this in the morning. That’s not going to fly with me. So you’re gonna sleep here with me and tell me everything I forgot in the morning.” You informed him.

He scoffed at you, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“So you want me to just sleep here next to you? No pushing you against a wall? No panties in your mouth?”

“Nope. Like you said, ‘s getting pretty late and it’s been a long week, so it's probably for the best if we…” You tried to finish but your tongue was so heavy in your mouth that you just couldn’t use it anymore. You felt the warm rumble of his answering laugh of disbelief as he manoeuvred the two of you under the covers, taking the time to kick off his shoes and remove his coat and shirt.

“Sleep well, Y/N, because when you wake up I’m going to make you feel all of the torment you’ve put me through tonight tenfold.”

And he held you there against his chest as both of you fell deeper and deeper into your slumber.

PART TWO

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raguiras · 2 months

Text

Mionn's art & writing ship trade event

(Click the art for better quality!)

I'm hosting an art & writing event centered around ships & duos (multifandom)!

🖤 REBLOGS ARE SUPER APPRECIATED

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

I've recently reached 200 followers on this blog, 900 on my meme blog, and 100 on Instagram!! Honestly, I don't even know what to say... I feel so damn honored and am so grateful for the support!! 🖤🖤🙏

As a multi-milestone celebration as well as an event for the official Spade of Storms (Deuce x Allen) day, which is on the 27th of July, I decided to host a TRADE EVENT!!!

Basically, this event is going to be an open art/writing trade that's all about ships (or platonic duos).

The event starts on 7/23 (today) and lasts for rest of July as well as for the entirety of August. For every Allen x Deuce art/writing that I receive during this duration, you get one of your own ship from ANY FANDOM back!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Why am I hosting this?

it's a way to thank everyone for three different follower milestones

a contest/DTIYS/raffle wouldn't promise that everyone gets something back, so I went for a trade event

the event allows me to post more about other canon TWST characters and draw them while not having to neglect Allen x Deuce

I wanna make new mutuals & friends, get to know more ships, and strengthen friendships with mutuals I already have!

Artfight is/was tons of fun, but I only do/did colored sketches there & ships are a tricky subject. Meanwhile, I'll do ANYTHING here!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Basic information:

Make a drawing/writing/comic of Allen x Deuce. (Ideas can be found in this post's pink "starters for my ship" section.)

Post it on your blog, tag me in it, and refer to my event. (While posting is by far preferred — especially for bigger artworks and written stuff — you can also just DM it to me.)

In return, you'll receive a gift of the same type for your own ship from any fandom (OC x canon, canon x canon, OC x OC)! I'll DM you about the ship, so make sure that your DMs are open.

For example: If you submit a sketch, you'll get a sketch back. If you submit a fully shaded drawing, I'II make a fully shaded drawing for you, too. If you add a background, I'll (do my best to) do the same. If you write a drabble... You know the drill!

ANYONE can join, whether you follow me or not! However, new followers through the event are super appreciated!

EVENT TIME: July 23th (today) - August 31st

Anything submitted before or after this event duration will not receive anything back (unless we explicitly do a trade), but be held in high regard nonetheless!

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Rules:

The portrayal of Allen x Deuce must be shippy/romantic.

Please keep angst at a minimum unless it has a happy ending. Comfort is allowed.

Please DO NOT add your own OC or another canon character to the submission. Including them in the background as a wingman or something is alright, though. Additionally, any kind of romantic implications between Deuce and another character/OC are NOT allowed.

Please no NSFW. Harmless implications and slight spice are okay, but keep in mind that these characters are both minors.

AUs are very much allowed! All the previous rules apply here, too, and I'm willing to give an overview of some AUs via DMs.

Please no genderbending.

Please DO NOT draw Allen or Deuce as a standalone character. This is a SHIP event for a reason.

Please don't change their appearances too much, especially when it comes to the color schemes & body types.

Giving them different outfits — especially event outfits — is absolutely cool (yes, you can draw Allen in a skirt if you wanna), and changing their hairstyles is okay as long as they still look like themselves.

This is NOT A DTIYS event, so please DO NOT redraw one of my Allen x Deuce arts. Please come up with something original.

If you have any more questions, please DM me!

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What CAN you submit?

drawings // comics // writings // animatics

For drawings, anything from a quick sketch to an extremely detailed drawing with a background is allowed! You'll get something of the same quality back. The same also goes for writings/fanfics.

Animatics will receive a drawing in return.

What CAN'T be submitted?

Gacha videos // edits // memes

-> You can theoretically submit all of these and I'd appreciate them, but I wouldn't be able to give you anything back.

Memes refer to funny pictures that simply have Allen & Deuce's faces in them. DRAWN memes/meme redraws count as DRAWINGS.

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Starters for Allen x Deuce

Got no clue what to draw/write about?

Check out the few already existing Allen x Deuce posts on this blog for proper lore and facts.

Check @spade-of-storms for fun facts, shorter rambles and additional info.

In any case, you can't go wrong with simple fluffy, romantic scenarios! Dates, kisses, cuddles, whatever!

For information about Allen himself, please check my pinned post.

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Q&A:

I want to join the event, but I don't have any ship (OC x canon, canon x canon, OC x OC) you could draw/write about for me in return.

That's okay! In that case, I'll gladly draw/write about two separate characters or a platonic duo for you.

Can I do multiple submissions for this event?

Obviously, and every single one will be "revenged"!

Can I get something of another type/quality back? For example, can I get a fully shaded drawing for my sketch, or art for my drabble?

Unfortunately not, as I prefer to always give something of the same type back. There are only the following two exceptions that I AM willing to do:

you do a drabble/oneshot —> I do a sketch

you do any type of art —> I write a drabble/oneshot

Is there anything you refuse to draw/write about?

Deuce ships (other than Deuce x Allen). NSFW. Family x family. Minor x adult. Any ship considered to be problematic.

How do I tell you about the ship I want you to draw/write about for me?

I'll DM you after you post your event submissions.

Do you prefer to do OC x canon, canon x canon, or OC x OC?

I have a bias towards OC x canon and canon x canon ships. However, I'm willing to do any ship that's not problematic! In the case of OC x OC, I simply need you to provide information on two OCs instead of one only.

Will you do poly ships?

In order to keep things fair, no. But I could include the third party as a plush or chibi head.

I want to make Allen x Deuce content for you, but not receive anything in return.

That's also super appreciated anytime (and totally doesn't make me freak out /pos)! Simply share it as a gift and don't mention the event.

How long is it going to take you to finish your "revenge" on me?

It depends on the type of submission you make & what I'm giving you back. Some things can be done within a day while others may take much longer, but either way, you WILL get something of the SAME TYPE back & that's guaranteed.

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Personal notes:

My health isn't the best and I also have a job. Please be respectful and don't rush me nor get mad when I'm being slow.

Please do not start a discussion nor get mad at me if I refuse to draw/write about a ship I deem problematic & want you to pick another one instead. Preferably pick a ship that's by far NOT problematic from the beginning.

I'm unwilling to draw/write about any Deuce ships other than Deuce x Allen because I kin Deuce a ton and tend to feel uncomfortable with many of his ships, so please don't ask for any. I'm asking you to not start a discussion over this, either.

I won't post everything I make for the event on this blog. Sketches and writings will either be DMed to you or posted on one of my other blogs.

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That's it for now! If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to DM me.

And again, thank you so much for 200 followers!

♤ Happy trading! ♤

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pastorfutureletthembe · 3 months

Text

I actually started this blog for one post only. The theory is that the story we are following is currently the 5th timeline.

I would need to watch the donghua again to find hints in the show itself but for now this post is exclusively about the content we keep getting served as fanservice. Now, people nowadays see this word as negative but in this particular case, we are evidently caught in an ARG (Alternative Reality Game), which is AWESOME.

For those who aren't familiar with the concept, it is basically a treasure hunt outside of the original media. For example, if you gather enough clues during your playthroughs of OXENFREE, you'll find the coordinates of an actual place where a real object, a gift FOR FANS was hidden. In the context of Link Click, I believe the rules and answers regarding the worldbuilding are hidden in plainsight for us to discover!

I will make different posts on the clues in lyrics, but for now we're gonna have a talk about VISUALS only. And boy, do we have THINGS to talk about

First things first, let's start with

>>>>> Promotional posters.

I'm opening this analysis with this particular one because it is the most relevant to current events. Black circles are V and white ones are IV. The huge clock is the background isn't supposed to be oriented this way for starters. One V is where XII should be, which could mean our journey starts here. The other V is between Cheng Xiaoshi and Li Tianxi, on the light side, while both VI are on the dark side. Every other VI on this artwork is a broken piece taken out of a quadrant except for the one on the right near Qiao Ling which is still part of the biggest piece.

It is interesting that we don't see any clockhands here, only the quadrant, and the only whole number is 5, ONLY on CXS's introduction.

Not so subtil, the mirror or "painting" is labeled 'V'. Lu Guang is also looking directly at US, viewers.

Probably five lines of five x but we only see 3, of which only the first one got 5x. Four diformed shapes can be seen at LG's left, under V/VI, which could be the four previous failed timelines. You might notice that LINK CLICK is written 5times. The clock says 00:05. Oh, familiar, isnt it?

As you can see, the V is a light in the darkess at Lu Guang's feet. it is a broken piece, though. The fact it is the enlighted one could mean two things. 1) It marks the spot, where we're currently at. 2) Hope. I would argue that until then Cheng Xiaoshi always died and now, at the end of season 2, Lu Guang is in the dark because he never went that far.

VI is there too, in complete darkness, blocked from view by a ring. There is something to say about VII being completely obliterated but I honeslty don't know how meaningful that could be.

>>> It is my understanding that if a character change the past, it breaks the timeline. Past changed, present and future cannot be the same ever again. It doesn't create a new timeline like in MARVEL, there is actually no going back from a changing node, it unravels this world. Either it already happened, allegedly because of Lu Guang, or will happen in the next season, we can suppose that Timeline VI is the actual doomed one. The fact Cheng Xiaoshi is trapped is relevant too. Destroying Present and Future would trapped him in the Past, hence Come back from the dive back in time.

>>>>> Dive Back in Time

There are many things to say about this one, but I'll keep it simple since it's already a long post. Let's start with something a bit out of topic: colors. Why? It actually indicates that LG isn't from the same timeline than CXS and QL. And I swear it would be useful at the end of this post.

Blue and Red are on the same plan, no matter if we're talking about RGB or CMYK, but Green and Magenta are not. It's like CXS and QL are anchoring LG in this reality, but Magenta is not supposed to be part of the mix. Primary colors in photography are Red, Blue and Green; not Magenta. Since we're talking about photography and this is not the original timeline, I think it is intended.

I'll leave the count of squares to you (spoiler: either 5 or 3 (I'll explain this one in another post) :D).

>>>>> Overthink

I recommend you read this glorious meta about this ending. I'll just "correct" mimicha on one point:

The way the hands are "cutting a piece" of the clock; just like in the promotional poster for Train Trail. It indicates 5. I'll also add this one:

If you look carefully, you'll see two words: TIME PARADOX. As said above, a paradox should NOT be possible with the rules LC gave us so far, but it could be related to the possible 6th doomed timeline. The "dark side" could try and make it happen. Just food for thoughts.

If you want more meta on OPs/ENDs, I recommend you also watch this glorious analysis. That's all I have to say for this one regarding the number 5.

>>>>> VORTEX

Not much to say, except for this "blink and you'll miss it" screenshot. If I missed anything, feel free to share with the class!

THE TIDES has, sadly, nothing to offer on this current topic!

>>>>> 3rd Anniversary: Surprising Click

Oh boy, do I have THINGS to say. Don't be surprised when I'll make another post about this Link Click monument haha. Note: 5 PVs were prepared for this anniversary. Coincidence? (I think not).

N O W A N D F O R E V E R

The only 5 clue I found is what looks like a clock with one hand going backwards, from X to IV, it appears while the chorus is playing. That might be a bit farfetched but I'd mention it for archives purpose anyway.

B R E A K

I won't be a smartass by pointing out BREAK is a five letters word but- okay that's infuriating of them if it is on purpose.

Most of it is obvious, the same logic applies, except for the cogs and hourglasses, we see four of each falling. Since LG's shadow/light goes from IV to V, it's safe to assume that those symbolize the four failed/achieved timelines. The ones left behind. I'll probably post something about cogs and hourglasses one day.

A last one, for the road:

S U R P R I S I N G C L I C K

You should take a look at this fan's brain! They did a wonderful work. I already had this part prepared so I'm still gonna share the obvious. Five mics ("time is like music"), and five letters (with photographs inside I'm guessing). Magenta and Green are very flashy in this one.

Oh, here are LG's five magenta squares from Dive Back in Time ;D

Four failed timelines/tasks, and... loading the first out of three chances. (Again, I can't address everything in one post, this one will have a long meta on his own, don't worry :D)

T R A I N T R I A L

Two occurances worth mentionning. Once again, V is the only timeline enlighted.

B U R N I N G P A L A C E

Many things are happening in this one but only one regarding our current meta. If you pay attention, you'll see it several times, while the chorus is playing:

x x x x x

Now, if you remember correctly, green is the exact chromatic opposite, the complementary color of magenta. They aren't on the same plan (primary vs secondary)/from the same timeline. Usually, they color Lu Guang but here, there is no magenta and no Lu Guang. With this in mind, could it be the paradox OVERTHINK warned us about? We can only assume Vein is from the same original timeline as LG. Red and Green are primary colors so yeah, we'll see.

That's all for today folks!

I had this brainworm eating at my life for weeks so I'm very happy that it is finally out there.

| Part 2 |

#link click #shiguang dailiren #时光代理人 #meta

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fastlikealambo · 5 months

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put your head on my shoulder| lucy maclean x black!fem reader

summary: lucy maclean of vault 33 has a rather unique problem: she wants a wife. after years of pining after her best friend and fending off chett, an exchange with vault 34 brings her what she's been searching for and the wedding day of her dreams.

notes: obviously none of the events of the show besides the bomb dropping happen here. just something short and sweet for the sapphics. 18+ only.

"What if she doesn't like jello cake?" Lucy asked nervously, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of her wedding dress, the walk to the gate suddenly felt extremely long.

"Everybody loves jello cake! She's going to love it here Lucy, don't you worry one bit." Stephanie said with a playful nudge forward but Lucy's shoes felt like lead.

It had taken so much planning for this day to come and if she had not put the finishing touches on their starter home unit herself this very morning, she wouldn't have believed it was here.

Until they were standing outside of Vault 34 watching the door slowly but surely roll open.

Lucy could barely hear the conversation between her father and his vault 34 counterpart and various introductions.

"Sorry to butt in but who am I marrying?" Lucy interrupted loudly, trying to peek over the other vaulters.

The click clack of heels answered that question for her as the crowd parted down the middle and Lucy almost fainted.

You were without a doubt the most beautiful woman Lucy MacLean had ever seen.

"Lucky." Stephanie whispered in Lucy's direction.

" Hi, I'm Lucy, your marriage partner, your wife to be, lover of jello cake and fixing pipes. Cheese and rice, you're pretty!" Lucy blurted out, suddenly very sweaty.

But you just laughed and stepped forward to shake her outstretched hand.

"It's nice to meet you Lucy and I can't wait to start our lives together."

From that moment on, you two couldn't keep your hands off each other.

Hand in hand during the vows, feeding each other wedding jello, and Lucy's head on your shoulder during your first dance.

"I never thought this would happen for me. If this is a dream, promise not to wake me up, Mrs. MacLean." You whispered, leaning forward to kiss Lucy deeply.

"Okie dokie, Mrs. MacLean."

and that's it! if you'd like to see more one shots of our vault wives, please comment or reblog :) this was fun!

#lucy maclean x reader #lucy maclean x black!reader #lucy maclean

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lqveharrington · 1 year

Text

Love-Hate | H.B.

summary: you’re love-hate relationship with Hobie Brown himself <3

pairing: Hobie Brown x fem!Spidey!reader

warnings: kinda suggestive !! making out, fluff if you squint, cursing, gwen and miles being in an awkward situation, lmk if i forgot any !!

wc: 1.5k+

a/n: it’s so hard to write for hobie’s accent oml !!

————

You had a love-hate relationship with Hobie.

Literally.

One second you’ll be annoyed at him for taking all the snacks you announced you wanted to have and the next, you’ll be making out in the break room, knocking things over. It was a never-ending cycle that confused everyone who witnessed an interaction. Even during missions Miguel sent out, the bickering wouldn’t end and in return, the make-outs wouldn’t end.

You never labeled the relationship as anything and Hobie hated labels, so it was a win-win situation. There would be some moments where you were just friendly with each other, but the arguments that would soon blow up in your faces will always end whatever chance others would deem as a healthy relationship.

Sometimes, your closest friends at HQ were nothing but added more reasons to your disputes with each other. The typical starter to a fight would be one stealing the others' belongings without them knowing. Yet, neither of you could ever give proof until an hour later when the item would appear back in its rightful place where it was last left.

Gwen being the cause of those fights.

Just like today, but worse.

You were pissed. And it wasn’t even Hobie’s fault for once. Still, he decided today would be the day to be the most aggravating person in the world.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, love?” He draped an arm around your shoulders, feigning false hurt when you pushed him off. “Nice to know you have some sort of emotion.”

“Hobie, go away.” You glare in his direction, finding a smirk displayed on his face. Not giving him the satisfaction of blowing up just yet, you answer his previous question. “Miguel is being a huge dick. I fought the stupid anomaly off and got blamed for not calling it in. What does he want me to do? Risk the entire universe, my universe to be more precise, just to call in a stupid anomaly? I would rather be stranded on a deserted island than risk that! I hate him so much, I have no idea why I joined this stupid society!”

You enter one of the more secluded areas you claimed as your own place, scanning for the walkman your dad gave you before he… Well, you all know the canon event by now.

“Where the fuck is it?” You let out a frustrated groan, opening the drawers and slamming them shut once you realized someone had taken it. “Did you take it?”

“What?”

“Did you take the walkman?” You stare up at him, glare still prominent. “I left it here.”

“Why would I take the walkman?” Hobie blatantly replied, hands in the pockets of his vest as he leaned against one of the walls, his guitar placed right beside him.

“Because you steal all of my shit, Hobie!” You rub your forehead, earning a raised brow from the male. “You know what? Fine, it’s fine. Everything is fine. I just need to relax. Then maybe you’ll give back the Walkman.”

“I don’t have the bloody Walkman.” He walked up to you, mere inches away. “And if I did, I would ‘ave gave it to ya’ as it seems you’re in a bit of a pissy mood.”

“Bite me.” You roll your eyes at his words, shifting closer to his frame. “You always take my things! No matter what time of day it is, where we are, it always goes missing! And you clearly don’t understand the value of this particular item!”

You looked up at him as you breathed heavily from the small outburst.

“I didn’t take anything.” Hobie met your eyes and leaned the smallest bit.

“Liar.” You reply with a voice laced with pure hate.

If anyone had walked in for the first few seconds, they would’ve thought it was a staring contest. But the sudden energy that emitted from the both of you completely took over, now hoping no one walked in.

Your hands pulled on his vest as he held your face with one hand and your waist with the other, his lips meeting you with such force and passion. As swiftly as it happened, you were able to sync up your movements, allowing Hobie to push you on the couch.

“I fucking hate you.” You separate from him, catching your breath.

“Feelings mutual, love.” He kissed your jaw and moved down to your neck, leaving small pecks and sucking on the more sensitive parts. You let out a small moan at the action, tugging on his vest and wanting to feel his lips back on your own.

“You’re so fucking needy.”

“Shut up.” You close the gap between you two, the coolness of his lip ring sending a miniature shiver down your spine.

He slotted one of his legs between both of yours, eliciting a whimper you tried to hold back. Something that Hobie didn’t fail to hear. He shifted his leg with the smallest amount of force causing you to gasp, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. He swallowed all your noises, immediately feeling the need to get closer than you already were.

Hobie pulled away from you, the line of spit connecting the two of you splitting as you groaned from the physical detachment.

“Bee, what the fuck!” Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes still full of desire for the Brit in front of you.

“Y’know how much I hate your Spidey suit.” He squeezed your waist, watching you squirm underneath him. “It makes everything so impossible.”

You huff, “Don’t blame me for something you started.”

“I didn’t take your walkman.” He spoke in a lower tone, eyes darkening. “How many times will I have to say that for you to get that in your pretty likkle mind?”

“Fuck you.”

“You fucking wish.” Hobie went to attack your neck once more, this time gaining a much louder moan. Your own eyes widen at the noise.

He groaned into your neck, “Holy shit, love.”

— —

“Miles, you’ve discovered every inch of this place! What more do you need to discover?” Gwen walked backward, watching her friend’s eyes light up as he spotted a hallway he’s never been in. “What?”

“What’s over there?”

Gwen looked over to where he was pointing, immediate regret taking over. I knew I should’ve gone another way. She thought.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Let’s go to the break room and bother more cool Spider-men!”

Miles raised a brow at her sudden energy to leave the area. “What? Are you hiding something there?”

“Me? I won’t ever hide something in this stupid place.” She crossed her arms, standing her ground. “Let’s leave.”

“Nope.” He popped his p, already walking to the new area. “I wanna look to see what’s over there.”

“It’s boring! It is so boring over there.” Gwen followed, hoping that you weren’t there.

“If it’s boring, why do you want us to leave this place so bad?”

“Just… Because.” She stuck her tongue out. “Just come on, nothing good is over—“

“Fuck!”

The distant sound made Miles concerned, thinking someone was hurt in the area. He started to make his way down the hallway, Gwen trying to stop him before he saw something he wished he didn’t.

“Gwen. If something bad happens down there and we could’ve prevented it, it’ll be on you.” He poked her arm, web shooters ready just in case. “We’ll just check, okay?”

The blonde bit her lip and nodded. Instead of getting her web-shooters ready to shoot at whatever the cause is, she got ready to web his eyes closed and her own hands to cover hers.

Miles burst into the room flicking the lights on, screaming to scare off whatever it was.

You and Hobie, on the other hand, jumped at the noise, Hobie throwing a pillow at the culprit.

“MILES?!” You shout, hiding yourself under Hobie, silently cursing. “GWEN?!”

“OH, MY EYES!” Miles turns around, Gwen in return webbing them shut a little too late. “OW, MY EYES!”

“Oops, sorry, Miles.” She pats his shoulder, not making eye contact with the older pair. “Hey, Hobie… Hey—”

“As much as I love a group reunion, get the fuck out.” Hobie dropped his head on your shoulder, muttering out words that weren’t too nice. Gwen quickly turned around and left without struggle, Miles still struggling with the web stuck on his face. The blonde whispered an apology to the boy, grabbing his arm and leading him out of the room.

“Sorry— OW! Gwen!” Miles leaves the room with a yelp.

Hobie rolls his eyes at the pair, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “So?”

You stare back, “What?”

“You called me Bee.” He gave a smug look. “You like me.”

“I do not!”

“Whatever you say.”

You smack his arm, adjusting the way you lay on the couch. “You still took my walkman.”

“Gwendy literally left it on the counter over there,” Hobie smirks in your direction. “Either your spidey senses aren’t working or you love me.”

“Love? No. Absolutely not.”

“The look of messy everything on you is a style then, yeah?” He clicks his tongue, taking in your disheveled look.

“I hate you.”

“Hate you too.” He gave you one last kiss, which believe it or not, left a small smile on your lips.

————

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nanamis-bigtie · 5 months

Text

ꕥ in the heat of spring | rush hours feat. ino takuma x reader

content warnings: pwp, reader has vagina and breasts, sex at a love hotel, feminine pet names, praise, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex word count: 3.5k mood prompt: gentle and commanding kink prompt: sex in clothes requested by: @mirkaaaluv a/n: well, well, well, if it hasn't gotten out of hand ^^" i wanted this, and other heat of spring texts, to be 1k words and best and yet, here we go. i guess ino just has his own set of rules lmao

The atmosphere changed as soon as the door opened and revealed your chosen room.

Ino's hand, so far only nudging you gently towards your destination, wanders down, to your ass, and sinks fingers into the soft flesh. You've expected the move—and yet, you jerk up, barely catching a high-pitched yelp at your throat. You're so tense that even a brush of a feather would send you spinning, an unambiguous touch is almost like a torture.

A welcomed one but a torture, nevertheless.

It's your first time at a love hotel as a guest and something about this fact keeps you right on the thin line between excitement and panic. It's hard to find a rational explanation for your state; you've been in many of them before, as a sorcerer, perpetually erasing the curses born of lust, stress, and raveled emotions you loathed to name but learnt by heart and damped down in order to do your job properly. You gave this place a quick scan even before you stepped into the main hall, and it was as clean as a sex-focused establishment could be. You stared intently at the blurry silhouette of the check-in clerk behind the frosted glass as Ino paid for your room and claimed the card key, but there was nothing suspicious about them. You looked around for residuals or disturbing vibes that could betray a presence—past or present—of a curse, just to find nothing.

It was a safe hotel—and yet, you were much more tense than you ever were in those cursed ones.

"You okay?" Ino puts the card key into the holder, turns the light on, finally closes the door behind you two. "You're…kinda pale. Is it—"

"No." You cut in, your voice calm and unbothered, contrary to a shriek you've expected. "Definitely not. I've checked."

"No curses?"

"No curses."

Ino laughs and kisses the back of your neck, "If there was one around, I'd tear it with bare hands, I think. I fought for this fuck break for a week. C'mon, ladies first."

Nudged by a playful yet hearty squeeze on your ass, you finally step fully in. The room is almost soundproof; the soothing music played from the speakers at the corridor is immediately replaced by serene silence. Fighting against weirdly stiff legs, you take a few curious steps inside; the space is on the smaller side but well organized and cozy for a hotel booked for a single night at best. There's a small tv, speakers, two chairs by a coffee table with a small basket (filled with everything you would need from an establishment of this kind), door leading to a private bathroom—and, of course, the main star of the event: a comfy-looking bed, big enough to fit not two but even three adults at once.

In any other place and time, you would happily pounce straight on it, to test if it's as soft as the views promise—but with legs so stiff and your head spinning you need another nudge from your boyfriend to finally approach closer.

"Well—" Ino is right behind you, the side of his face pressed close to yours and his fingers slowly tracing your sides. "—how do you like it?"

"It's…nice. Very nice."

For a starter, you've been aiming for a cautious sit at the edge of the bed, but Ino is faster, bolder, and impatient with your guarded behavior. Hand on your hip, he spins you around and crashes lips against yours. It's a hasty, hungry kiss, full of longing and agony of separation for weeks of work, stress, and all of this cursed bullshit pulling you two out of your routine. You can't blame Ino for finally snapping; you feel it too, the fire you forced into the subconsciousness has perked its head up and is pushing you now into his hungry arms. The familiar tight knot in your abdomen is pulling hard, harder than you've felt since what seems forever, and begging for a fast and intense release.

If he kissed you like this for longer, the weird tension would evaporate from your head—but Ino's in a rush, as always when his needs are pent up to the verge of bursting. He pulls away from your lips just to push you on the bed, yanks the beanie off his head, hesitates over doing the same with the hoodie just for a second but leaves it, already too starved of your closeness. He advances on you with such momentum that he pushes air out of your lungs—and doesn't let you take another breath before kissing you again with the same fervor. The horny beast in you growls, pleased, and your legs immediately open to fit him better—but the tension at the back of your head remains and tries its best to tie your body into its submission.

"Fuck, I need you..." Ino rasps into your ear, sending harsh shivers down your spine. He ruts his hips against you, the rapidly growing bulge against your groin leaving you no doubts you're for a fast and bumpy ride. You mewl and crane your neck for his lips, jerk your hips up in an answer to his bite, whimper, and moan when he lingers to mark you with a hickey.

His hands don't give your nerves the same luxury; using one for leverage to pin you with his body just enough, he sneaks the other under your clothes. It traces your tum lovingly but, remembering you have only three hours yanked out of your tight schedule, dives into your pants and panties shortly after.

"You're tense," Ino points out as he's spilling wet kisses from your jaw towards your neck and lower.

"This is new," you admit but don't follow any further, trying to silence your uneasiness with haste, shallow kisses that swallow his pleased murmurs and mewls. There is no time for niceties, both of you know it—and you're not letting your weird qualms get in your way, not with the fire spilling between your legs just at the brush of his fingers against your slit.

It's uncomfortable to maneuver under your jeans without unzipping them but Ino would endure even digging in a cooling-down concrete if it meant he could finally touch the place he longed for the most. He curses under breath, his words moist against your neck, and finally finds an angle that satisfies him. His thumb traces your slit, spreads your labia and toys with your clit—touch undeniably pleasant but also palpably rushed, especially for a man who could finger you for hours, until you were nothing but a puddle melting in his hands. He's rather seeking for your arousal than working for it; you're more damp than wet but that's enough, it was before, and your thighs quiver by his sides when he teases right at your entrance.

Tension itches at the back of your head; when Ino's eyes seek yours you nod with agreement, maybe even too sharply to pass as genuine. Under other circumstances he would point it out and ask to be doubly sure, to read the sweet consent from the timbre of your voice, but his senses are as hazy as yours—and he's not thinking with the right brain anymore.

He adjusts the position of his hand one more time—and slides two fingers into you, at once.

Instead of the expected surge of pleasure, your body spasms and you hiss sharply as you try to stop your hips from jerking away. The tension hasn't worked in your favor; yes, the moisture would be more than enough if you were at home, lazy and relaxed, but here it fights against his fingers, access suspended, no matter what your soul and mind are craving.

Ino immediately notices.

"Oh baby, did I hurt you?" He withdraws his hand and lifts himself on both arms now, giving you more space beneath him. The wildfire in his eyes has turned warm and docile, and he's looking at you with nothing but concern—and guilt, creeping at the corners of his big, puppy eyes.

"No, don't worry, I'm alright." You scratch at the back of his head, yourself not sure if to calm down him, yourself, or both at once. You don't know how to explain your current situation without sounding too intricately and ridiculously. You're tempted to joke that you would feel more at ease if there was a curse in the next room, but that's not really the strategy you're looking for to salvage the mood.

"A false start?" Ino finds the right words first and exhales with relief when you agree. "Shit... I was so focused on time... My bad. I'm sorry."

When he reaches to your lips again, the kiss is softer, asking for your forgiveness, but as enthusiastic as before. There's still plenty of heat in between the two of you, so it doesn't take long for your moves to turn sloppy and hungry anew. He's more cautious, though, and doesn't budge from his position any further than needed to sip from you. No matter how tempting you and your mewls are, he's not caving in, not until you're nice and putty in his arms.

It seems it's been hours when he finally asks if you want to continue, and you nod with such enthusiasm that your vision goes blurry for a moment, the tension at the back of your head already too lazy to perk its head, peeking curiously at the situation instead.

A soft kiss on your cheek later, Ino climbs off the bed and, finally, strips off his hoodie. The view itself does wonders to your mood; his athletic and lean body is a work of art, begging to be touched, licked, and caressed. You stare at his back intently as you work your pants and panties down—and count its crevices and lines of defined muscles you're going to trace soon. The tension lets out only a warning thrum when your partner starts digging in the basket with love hotel goods, but it's pretty much its last spasm.

With a comically triumphant noise, Ino turns with a bottle of lube and a condom in his hands—and stops in his tracks at the sight of your half-naked body. He takes a harsher breath when you roll your shirt over your waist; from the weight of his stare, you know he's inches from pouncing on top of you again. Nerves and will of steel, forged in heated battles against curses, pay off in a situation like this, he shrugs the temptation off and snuffs out the wildfire running through his veins.

Everything for your sake.

"You spoil me." The mattress dips under his weight as Ino approaches you on his knees, opening the lube with his teeth at the same time. He spits the cap out on the floor and sits by your side on his heels. He takes his time studying your curves, almost motionless if not for his chest heaving with need and his abdominal muscles tensing and twitching. He might be controlling himself, but it doesn't come with ease. Each breath is a fight against his instincts, racing thoughts, and pulsing hardness relentlessly pushing on his jeans.

"Show yourself to me, pretty girl." He finally snaps out of trance and pours lube, almost everything he has, on his fingers. A smile grows on his face as you listen, bending your legs in knees and spreading them wide for him. "Yes, just like this... Fuck, you're so hot..."

Scooting closer, Ino moves in between them, eyes fixed on his goal, warm and ready for him—but still takes his time to adore you properly. He leans close to your thigh, kisses your knee with sweet affection and advances further down, until he has you giggling and mewling with anticipation—so close to your core yet so painfully away.

One flick of gaze up later he finally reaches between your legs again—the strategy and technique all the same but slower and patient. He spreads lube along your slit as he caresses it, working his way past the last knots of your hesitation. He teases and asks for permission until he's sure your gasps and spasms are genuine in every way possible, and even there, he takes his sweet time playing with your clit. In the heated rush you've almost forgotten how sadistic and stubborn he can be if only he wants to spoil you beyond the expectations. Soon he has every single one of your nerves taunt and at the mercy of his fingertips and midst your hazy mind you're thanking the conditions for giving you two so little time, otherwise he would boil you right there for painfully long hours.

Right as you're ready to beg for more, Ino finally makes his move, starting with a single finger this time.

"There we go, smooth and easy..." He's slow and careful, his eyes fixed on your pussy as he fills you up to his knuckle. "Such a good girl, Y/N..."

He adds another one and smirks down at your expression. Not caring about the mess, he tosses the bottle with lube away and lies beside you, chest flush to your shoulder. You feel his warm breath right by your ear, heavy and right on the verge of a needy groan; prolonging the fast has its great price and he's paying without a blink. It's so unbelievably hot to have him so worked up with only two fingers in you, to be so adored and needed that he's taut like a string on the verge of snapping, and his tongue is tying into knots as he's whispering dirty encouragements for you.

"My... You're getting so wet now..." His voice is throaty, tense and almost breaking, in the most sensual way. "Sucking me in... Can you squeeze a little more? Oh yes, that's right, that's a good girl, working so hard to take my fingers. Do you think you can take another one? I'll be gentle. You need to take it, if you want my cock, pretty girl."

His breathing hitches when you, indeed, take the third finger. Rutting against your side, his hard-rock length twitching in his jeans, he moans, loud and pathetic, at your cunt fluttering around his knuckles. His patience is on the verge of crumbling; even the gentlest and most loving boyfriend has his limits and Ino has pushed past them ages ago. Even midst the hot-red haze mantling your mind you can feel him struggling. His moves turn less precise and sloppy, once almost ceasing, once rushing and seeking that one last nerve to graze and snap. Along with willpower he's losing his focus, putting it instead whole into not cumming into his pants.

And yet, despite everything, he puts you in the first place.

"Fuck..." Ino flounders between words, trying to play two roles at once and win his prize in both of them. "It's so hot... Pretty girl, please? Can I fuck you now? Look, you're taking my fingers already... Fuck— You're taking them so well... Will you cum on them? I want you to cum. Please, cum for me, sweetheart."

He whispers a please after a please into your ear, abandoning stretching you for the sake of moving the remains of his focus to your clit. He rubs it fast and sloppily, far from ideal but makes up for it with desperation and not ceasing until your heels start to dig in the mattress and your thighs to spasm and shake.

"Do it now, sweet girl." He trips over his words as if he was as close to the release as you're now, but he finds enough willpower to show dominance one last time before he finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body spasms, the buildup and anticipation resulting in a strong, mind-numbing and exhausting orgasm. For a moment there's nothing for you but blank, overwhelming pleasure, white silence and dry, itching pain in your lungs, as if you forgot how to breathe when you were crying out his name.

You return to your senses with stickiness all over your skin and his hot breath pressed to your sweaty neck with a silent pleading for more.

Ino licks his lips when your gaze meets and smiles, as cheeky and proud of his work as impatient. His eyes are glossy, feverish, and his cheeks are flushed so much they're beaming with heat, "Are you okay?"

You nod, not quite having power to say something yet.

"Do you want more? Can I take you?"

Another nod—and a bright smile at his sudden, childish pounce at given consent. Ino's hands are shaking when he unbuckles and unzips his jeans; his fluffy happy trail leads your gaze towards his heavy, twitching erection and precum beading at its head, threatening to spill everything at the slightest friction. He doesn't do much better when rolling a condom on, almost dropping it straight out of the wrapping and dragging a dry spasm of laughter out of you.

"See what you're doing to me, you little minx?" He says once finally successful and squirts the last dollop of lube along his shaft. He spreads it with a few strokes—biting on the bottom lip as he's doing so, so close to his finish that even a loose, almost mechanical jerk of a hand is overstimulating—then finally takes his place between your legs.

He spreads your knees further open, pulls your hips closer and helps you rest your calves against his chest. Before he guides your ankles to his shoulders, he brushes a gentle kiss against the elastic band of one of your socks, then the mark it left before it slid down.

"Ready?" He asks, voice shaking, as he's rubbing himself against your puffy, sensitive clit: shallow, pleading thrusts that could as well just get him off right over you.

You nod again and your eyes flutter in pleasure as Ino wastes no time and slides in, with ease and a loud, guttural groan. He stills mid-way in, intense twitching inside of you calling for a fast finish, but he manages to calm himself down enough to press further, leading your knees towards your chest until he meets your limit.

"Holy shit..." Eyes closed, Ino bites on his lips almost to blood. Sweat pearls on his forehead, first droplets trickle down his temples, and his arms, supporting your legs, start shaking. "This is... Fuck, baby girl, I missed it... I missed you so much..."

He twitches harder when you trace his back, lets out a single dry sob when you run fingers through his hair and pull him closer to yourself. It's okay, he has worked hard for it, he can let go and just enjoy himself. You want to say all of this aloud, but only breathing and soft mewls feel right now—and he's too lost in it to hear all of that anyway.

His control snaps, from tranquil and nearly motionless he switches into the highest gear in seconds, and his deep, harsh, desperate thrusts pierce your body deeper into the soft mattress. It's primal and selfish, and the closest to using you Ino could ever get, each day of loneliness and pent-up tension written in the frantic and sloppy rhythm of his hips. It could have been too much for your body, so spent after an intense orgasm, but he doesn't last long, soon whining and moaning, and finally coming, with fingers digging into your thighs and head falling into the crook of your neck.

He's thrusting into you, at the end only rocking gently against you, until he has no cum and power left in him. He lets your legs slide by his sides and sprawls himself on top of you, heavy, sweaty, so hot against your barely pulled-up shirt and his jeans lowered just below his hips.

"Holy shit, I needed that." There's a trace of smile in Ino's voice—and even in his groan when he fails to pull out of you and has to collapse on you again.

With a pleased, agreeing hum you wrap arms around him and giggle when he finds some steam in him to nibble on your neck. The room is filled with your breathing, mixed musk of your bodies, and the barely audible but steady buzz of the electronics. Now, when nestled cozy with his body close to yours and his lips affectionately tasting your skin, the worry and tension that got in between the two of you feel so irrational that you want to laugh. How could you possibly feel so out of place when you had Ino by your side all this time? The rhythm of his heart and smell of his cologne alone have you feeling at home, safe, cozy and loved.

"How much time do we have left?" Ino fishes his phone from the back pocket, furrows his brows, displeased, when he glances over the screen. "Hey. Do you think we can make it with one more round, shower and a lunch in less than an hour?"

"Do you still have power left after that?" You giggle when he wriggles to find a comfortable position, tickling you while doing so. "You're crazy."

"Nah." He sinks teeth into your shoulder, playfully, but hard enough to leave a little mark. "I'm not just crazy. I'm crazy for you."

thank you so much for reading ❤ i'll be really happy, if you reblog it and/or leave some feedback! you can read more of my jjk fics here.

tag list: @lale-txt @honey-deku @ohnococo

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #ino takuma x reader #ino x reader #jjk ino x reader #ino takuma x you #ino x you #jjk ino x you #bas writes #sinful #in the heat of spring #female reader

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mysticalmallard · 3 months

Note

For your Drabble event,

fluff, Happy Lowman and ♥︎ 8. "For some reason, I'm attracted to you."

Thank you for giving your time to do these x

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz

♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this list comment or message me ♥︎

As I sat at the dimly lit bar, I could feel the weight of the world settling on my shoulders. The loud chatter and clinking of glasses did little to ease the tension. Suddenly, a soft voice broke through the noise.

"Excuse me."

I turned to see her standing there, a small smile playing on her lips. She seemed out of place in this rough-around-the-edges crowd.

Her eyes met mine, and I was struck by the warmth in them. It was like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room.

"Can I join you?" she asked, gesturing to the empty barstool beside me.

I shrugged, trying to maintain my usual demeanor. "Suppose so."

She sat down gracefully, her slender frame contrasting with the worn out stool. We were a study in opposites - me, rough and tough, her soft and delicate.

We sat in silence for awhile , the tension between us undeniable. I tried to focus on my drink, but my eyes kept wandering to her delicate features and the way the light played off her skin.

Finally, she broke the silence. "You don't strike me as the chatty type."

I chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

She smiled, an air of playfulness in her eyes. "Just an observation. You seem like the strong, silent type. Not one for idle chatter. But for some reason, im attracted to you. And i was wondering how much longer we need to sit here in silence before you give me your number?"

I chuckled again, surprised by her forwardness. Most women were intimidated by my size and demeanor, but she seemed unfazed. If anything, she seemed more intrigued.

"Is that right?" I said, trying to maintain my cool. "And why should I give you my number?"

She leaned in a little closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Because I asked nicely. And because i can tell you're intrigued too."

I raised an eyebrow, not denying her statement. I was attracted to her, there was no denying it. But I wasn't one to let a woman take control. "What makes you think I'm intrigued?"

"The way you keep looking at me, for starters." She said, her voice soft but confident. "And the fact that you haven't told me to leave yet."

I couldn't help but laugh at her observation. She had a point. I had been sneaking glances at her since she sat down, unable to keep my eyes off her.

"Maybe I'm just being polite." I teased, a smirk on my face.

-> SoA Drabble Event <- open until July 10th

-> SoA Masterlist <-

-> MainMasterlist <-

#sons of anarchy #samcro #soa #happy lowman #happy lowman imagine #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman oneshot #Mystical Mallard SoA Drabble Event

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beyondspaceandstars · 11 months

Text

Paint 'n' Sip

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just all fluff! Summary: You convince your boyfriend Bucky to go to a paint and pour with you. A/N: so this is part of my attempt to post the writings I originally posted on ao3 before I made this account so this is a pretty old one-shot (ao3 says 2020 but I feel like I wrote this before that lmao) however I did go through and edit it so it's a bit stronger than it was before! please enjoy, it's a super simple little fluffy thing :)

Masterlist

"Doll, come on…" Bucky sighed as he gripped the event flyer in his hand. You were sitting on the couch, watching, while Bucky was planted in front the kitchen island.

You just came in the room minutes ago with puppy dog eyes in full swing and a pout as sad as you could muster. Of course, your boyfriend immediately knew something was up, but he gave you the benefit of the doubt and read the flyer you were shaking about. You had got yourself cozy on the couch and waited for his reaction. As predicted, he wasn’t a willing participant.

"What?" You frowned. "It’ll be fun."

He shook his head and turned to you. "Painting and drinking wine? Sounds more like a girls night activity."

"Well," you sighed and crossed your arms, "none of my friends are available, so I thought my wonderful boyfriend who loves me so much would go with me." You tried to keep your face as serious as possible, but it was difficult thanks to Bucky’s expression which told you he wasn’t that convinced yet.

"Doll, seriously, of course I love you, but I draw the line somewhere."

You groaned and got up from your seat, making your way over to your stubborn boyfriend. He placed the flyer on the counter and opened his arms to engulf you. Despite your slight annoyance, you accepted. You were always weak when it came to him holding you.

"You’re being a bit dramatic about this," you said as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. "It’s just a bit of painting paired with some wine sipping. What’s there to really hate?"

"Well, for starters, I’m not much of an artistic guy—," you rolled your eyes, but he continued, "and it’s gonna be full of moms."

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. "Moms? You think it’ll be full of moms?"

Bucky gave you a look, eyebrows raised. "Wine and painting? Sounds like a mom activity."

You shook your head. "I’ll have you know, this is a very trendy thing trendy adults do."

Now, Bucky was the one laughing. "Oh? And we’re so trendy?"

You lightly hit his arm for that comment. "Come with me and you’ll see that it isn’t so bad."

He truly couldn’t say no to you. And you both secretly knew it.

Saturday night had finally rolled around.

You sat at your vanity touching up your makeup while Bucky lounged on your shared bed. You kept sneaking glances at him through the mirror, taking notice of how he had freshened up a bit more than usual. His jeans hugged him in the right places and his hair was done well. It warmed your heart to see the effort he was trying to put in for you. Even if it was just a night of painting and drinking, it was still a night out with each other.

"You almost ready, hon?" Bucky asked as he kept glancing at the clock on the wall. Your reservation was at seven and you were sure going until the last possible second with your makeup.

"Oh, sure, sure," you waved a hand in dismissal. "Just let me put on lipstick."

"Lipstick?" Bucky frowned. "That just means you won’t let me kiss you."

You let out a laugh, trying to stead your hand as the scarlet color coats your lips. "You can keep your lips to yourself for a few hours."

Your boyfriend mumbled something under his breath then whisked you out of the shared apartment.

You both arrived in just the knick of time. After checking in and grabbing your drink, you two found the only open seats. They were in the middle of the room. And they were nicely situated between two groups of excited, bubbly women.

It didn’t go missed by you that Bucky was the only guy that and from the frown forming on your boyfriend’s face, you realized he noticed at well. You did your best to hold in laughter. He would probably bug you endlessly for this one, and you knew it.

"I think you owe me for this, sweetheart." Bucky muttered as he stared emotionless at the blank canvas propped up the table.

You glanced down at your sorted paints and brushes. "Maybe this will allow you to find your inner Picasso."

Bucky let out a humorless chuckle before taking a big gulp of his drink.

While your boyfriend stewed in his grumpiness, you decided to eavesdrop on the ladies around you two—partially desperate to prove it wasn’t just moms here. You quickly found out that the women on your side were college students out celebrating the end of finals. There was, also, what looked like, a bachelorette party going on a few tables in front of you. You were just about to tell Bucky he was wrong about the clientele when the women sitting closest to him started talking about their children's soccer games. As if on cue, Bucky shot you a look.

"You so owe me for this," Bucky whispered to you. You had to cup your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from roaring with laughter.

The room died down when the instructor introduced themselves and began the class. The painting on tonight’s agenda was a simple sunset with a forest landscape. It sounded quite cute and may even make a nice piece for over your dresser, you thought.

As you got into the painting, you kept glancing over at Bucky. To much surprise, he was extremely concentrated on his canvas. Every brush stroke was done such precision and no move was done unwisely. His drink was even going untouched, completely forgotten about as he was consumed by paint. Your heart fluttered at this sight.

Turning back to your canvas, you tried to match his precision. The blending of your sunset wasn’t exactly up to par, but you thought if your stubborn boyfriend could get into it, you could too. It was your idea after all. How were you doing to be shown up by Mr. Grumpy over there?

Eventually, the instructor concluded the session and everyone around you was quick to show their group what they had done. Plenty of wine had flowed as well, probably contributing to the frenzy.

You stared at your sunset and were a bit…unimpressed. It was alright for a beginner, you figured. You turned to ask how Bucky was doing but your words died on your tongue when you saw his final painting. Bucky’s was the completed opposite of yours… It was like a whole new world. The detail, excitement, colors, everything… The care and concentration he had put into it didn’t go unnoticed. Everything flowed so gently and beautifully. To say you were amazed would be an understatement.

"Buck, that’s…incredible." You were in awe. Bucky glanced at you and a slight blush creeped up on his cheeks.

"You really think so?" He asked.

You nodded. "We’re gonna have to hang it up when we get home."

He chuckled and asked if you ere ready to go. You agreed, deciding it was time to free home.

With both paintings in one hand, Bucky used his other to intertwine your fingers and swung your arms back and forth gently as you two walked back home.

"I’ll be honest, I had a good time tonight," Bucky admitted.

"Really?" You giggled. "I hadn’t notice at all. I thought the canvas would combust from your intense stare."

He bumped his side into you lightly. "I was just… really into it. We gotta paint more."

"Oh, no, not we." You shook your head. "I think this is your hidden talent."

Bucky started to blush again and looked away toward the street.

"I mean it, babe." You mumbled, rubbing patterns on his hand with your thumb. "I think it could be good for you. Therapeutic, maybe."

His walking speed was slowing down a bit. You were looking at him while his eyes were trained on the pavement.

"Only if you promise you’ll hang up every painting I do."

You smiled at the comment. He started picking that talent up from you—making some lighthearted comment even in the slight serious of times. The fact he even considered it made you feel all fuzzy. You couldn’t wait to see what he could do with a full set of acrylics.

"It would be an honor to display any of your paintings."

He gave you a peck on the cheek, now making you blush as you continued your way home.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #mcu fluff #one shot #writing*#fluff

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phonydiaries · 1 year

Text

Target Practice - P x Reader

Warnings: reader getting the absolute shit kicked out of them by enemies and a significant amount of blood and violence. Other than that, nothing I think?

---

The cold hard clang of your steel blade hitting the marble column rings through the courtyard.

Off target.

You’re fucking off target, again.

You step back, try to redistribute the weight of the weapon in your hands. Your palms are sweaty, your grip becoming loose and clumsy. You blink hard, eyes trained on the dummy. Somehow in its blank expression you see pity. Mockery. The knowledge that for all your effort, it's not enough.

You’re not strong enough.

Anger rises to a rolling boil in the pit of your stomach. You slash the dummy across its felted chest. It’s a poor hit, sloppy and devoid of form. You’ve been at this for hours, hacking away fruitlessly in the courtyard. You wince and bring a hand to quell the stinging pain in your side. Under your clothes you know the skin is still raw; all rust-colored and lacerated. It was that very wound which led you to this obsessive over-exertion in the first place.

Three nights past you had very nearly perished in the arms of Gepetto’s puppet.

In your half-conscious delirium, you hardly remember all the details of the mission gone impossibly wrong. You and P had stalked into the night together, watching each other's backs carefully. There were the typical dust-ups, mundane scrapes and bruises and otherwise totally expected snags. None of this phased you, it was standard fare. But somewhere in the now fluid and tenuous events of that night, you got careless. You must’ve. How else would you find yourself backed into a corner, disarmed, swarmed by a legion of damnable automatons. This piece of the memory is both vivid and obscured, bits and pieces of sensation overwhelming in their clarity and others entirely lost to you. You have no idea how many times you were struck or with what manner of weaponry.

You recall curling in on yourself on the ground, arms twisting above your head in a desperate attempt at self preservation. And then all at once there was a mad chaos surrounding you. The air crackled with electricity, brazen sparks of light, the smell of smoke, a horrible crunch of faulty machinery. Your head pulsed dully as a cold arm slipped around your torso and heaved you upright. White hot pain shot through your body and you cried out in the darkness. Your eyes wavered open long enough to catch P, looking as grim as you had ever seen him, carefully scooping you up, your legs dangling limp over his human arm.

The journey to Hotel Krat was one which you were almost certain you would not live to see the end of. For starters, your hands and feet had gone utterly numb, probably thanks to the outpouring of blood from your abdomen, which ran thick and viscous down the front of P’s shirt as he carried you. The parts of your body that could still feel throbbed with a terrible searing pain and you longed for a spell of unconsciousness. This was in fact soon to come, after a ghastly cough which left the metallic taste of iron in your mouth and even more bloodstains on your poor companion’s clothes. As your vision faded you only mumbled to him,

“Sorry… Oh God, I’m sorry…”

You were bedridden for the better half of two days, floating in and out of consciousness like a specter. Flashes of things from that night, dreamlike and watery, come back to you, pilling at the edges of your mind. P bursting through the doors of Krat in a frenetic panic, your head lolling against his chest, your body shivering relentlessly from loss of blood. The marble floors of the hotel were stained a deep crimson. You recall Sophia rushing to meet you both, communicating with P in some way you couldn’t understand either due to the nonverbal nature of it or of the way your head swam every time you opened your eyes. Somehow you were brought to your room, and faintly recall the dressing of your wounds, a feeling of coolness on your forehead, some herbal concoction being held to your mouth, its contents warm and sweet.

Though most of those days were spent in a deep and cavernous slumber, when you were lucid enough to open your eyes, to perceive the room around you, you’re certain that Pinocchio had never left your side. With each foggy fragment, there he knelt at your bed; brows knitted and hands clasped over his mouth as he leaned forward on his elbows. A thoughtful intensity had overcome him, and in this posture, he seemed almost to be praying.

He doesn’t know what to do with me. You thought to yourself. He knows now how easily I’m broken.

In the brief moments Pinocchio could be pulled from your side, Sophia took gentle inspection and inventory of your condition. In one such instance you suddenly found yourself tearful, frustration and guilt wracking the whole of your being. Sophia attempted comfort and assured you it was not out of weakness that you had landed yourself bleak and bloodied in this bed, that it wasn’t a fair fight, that this could’ve happened to anyone. But it didn’t. It happened to you. You who were charged to accompany Pinocchio in all his ventures. You who were meant to be his trusted companion, his ally, his protector when it was required of you. He was made of magic after all, and you were only a mere human. Expendable. You’d failed him.

Yesterday was the first time you had even managed to stand since it all happened. You walked barefoot in pyjamas through the hotel, searching for P in silence. The cold marble is a shock to the soles of your feet and you wrap your arms around yourself at the draft that ripples beneath the loose fitting silk sleepclothes. When you finally catch sight of him in the library tucked between the towering shelves, your throat goes completely dry and tight. Your eyes feel glassy. You can’t face him knowing how he last saw you, making a fool of yourself. A sorry excuse for a soldier.

That evening it was impossible to bring yourself to dream. Thoughts ruminated, their thorned and gnarled roots delving deep into the recesses of your restless sleep. In the darkness, you change clothes and take your weapons from their holding place and head for the garden. You wanted to blow off steam at first, just clear your head. But as you night crept slowly into dawn, hues of blue and indigo shifting into a brilliant orange, here you still stood. Haggard and weary in the garden with callouses burning into your palm. Fixation on failure had poisoned you.

You were exhausted. The wear of such exercise would’ve been present even in your normal physical condition, but the presence of deep yellowing bruises and disrupted gashes along your limbs made it all the more wretched. You would not allow your body even a moment of peace. How could you quit now? How when your mind still ran rampant and relentless?

You glare at the dummy before you with pointed bitterness. With a groan you slice wildly across its throat, and the lifeless head tumbles into the grass. Your shoulders slump forward at the weight of your sword. You stare at the head, rolling to a stop. Hair falls over your eyes in an unkempt curtain and you find it difficult to catch your breath. Some stalker I am. You think to yourself.

You’re drawn out of the ever-tangled web of self-pity by a feeling of being watched. You throw a glance over your shoulder, and there he is. Your trusted Pino.

You feel sick.

At the knowledge of his presence, you straighten up your posture and readjust your clothes. It’s pointless, you know, but still. You don’t want him seeing you like this. You attempt to coolly smooth your hair back and acknowledge him with a nod, not knowing what to say. The two of you stand, shifting your weights awkwardly, in a permeating silence.

P is the first to attempt conversation, pointing in the direction of your bedroom, his face portraying confusion.

“Ah. I’m fine now.” You lie, poking absentmindedly at the ground with your weapon. “Sophia gave me some… something or other. I’m right as rain.”

P doesn’t look convinced, and he shouldn’t be. You were knocking on Death's door not 48 hours ago. You hadn’t forgotten he was the one to lug your delirious self for miles, pale and languid and spurting blood. It's a service for which you’re afraid he can never be repaid. He reaches for your hand, but you flinch away. His eyes flash with something deeply sad and your heart crumbles.

You’re being cruel.

But you can’t accept his help anymore; he can’t keep offering you these undeserved kindnesses. You want to say sorry, not just for swatting him away, but for everything. For not being more careful, for causing him so much worry, for putting both your lives at risk. But you don’t. Instead you turn your back to him and kick up dirt.

“You can just go back inside, P.”

Your face feels hot and you wonder if you’re really going to cry with him still standing there. As salty tears pool at the corner of your eye, you feel a sharp prick in your back. You yelp and whip your head around to find P now equipped with his rapier, holding it to your back. You lift your sword reflexively in return.

“I’m not in the mood for-” You start, but are cut off as he crosses his weapon with yours. Your eyes scan from the hilt of his rapier to meet his eyes, which narrow at you. The corner of his mouth is lifted just barely in an inviting and appetitive smirk. You resist returning the look, which disappoints him. You give in just a little and draw your weapon to his chest. Now his expression is broken into a full blown boyish smile. It’s almost enough to lure you out of yourself. Almost.

The duel begins between the two of you at a crawling pace; there’s a kind of thoughtfulness to your movements. You size one another up as if this were the first time your swords had crossed and not an uncountable thousandth. Your steps are in orbit with each other, methodical, calculated. His gaze is unrelenting and makes something in your chest twinge.

You catch even yourself off guard by striking first, but of course he’s able to parry it easily, shaking the rhythm of your movement. He slashes back at you and your blade catches his, just barely, as it slides away with a ring. A minute inkling of pride swells in you.

You’re surprised at how quickly things between the two of you seem to realign; it’s all in an ebb and flow, but it's good. It’s real, this energy you feel in practice with him.You’re struck suddenly with the thought that the simple act of sparring could never feel so -you can’t think of a better word for it than- spiritual with anyone but him. The bond you’ve cultivated, held and protected between yourselves is inimitable, ritualistic in a sense. A private and intimate practice between you and he.

By the time the sun descends into the horizon, casting its shadows deep across the garden walls, the two of you have succeeded in making an absolute mess of the space and of yourselves. The dummies have become innocent casualties to the line of fire, and several rose bushes hang limply in ribbons, their crimson petals strewn about carelessly. As for you; your hair is whipping across your face, clothes rumpled. You’d both thrown off your coats a while ago, the practice making you sweat. You move wildly in tandem with the puppet, each of you equally stubborn not to crack. It was endearing, you had to admit, the competitive streak in your trusted companion. But your iron will would win out in the end.

At the very edge of the courtyard where two walls meet, you face P, your mouth set sternly in a straight line, brow furrowed in concentration. You’ve been waiting for him to falter this whole time. Unfortunately as a puppet he seems far less prone to such follies as a mere mortal like yourself. However, he’s also less accustomed to common human tricks. With only the tiniest bit of guilt, you widen your eyes and drop your jaw, gesturing behind the boy in front of you. You watch his immovable expression twitch and his eyes follow the sharp line of your finger.

And with that, your window is open.

With a well timed flick of your sword, you disarm your opponent, and his rapier clatters to the ground. The tip of your blade rests firmly at the center of his chest.

P’s head spins to look back at you, his face awash with betrayal. You can’t help smiling. It was so stupid, so juvenile, so unbelievably oldest-trick-in-the-book that you honestly can’t believe it worked. But that doesn’t matter. You’ve won.

P’s face drops and he shakes his head at your victory, but you see the glimmer of a grin beneath it all. He’s happy to see you like your old self again.

“Oh cheer up, poor puppet boy.” You say, a lilt in your voice. You inch forward and draw your weapon up to the collar of his shirt. It wilts at the touch of your sword and his pale freckled collarbone is just barely exposed. “Better luck next time.”

Your eyes flicker back to his face and you’re surprised to find it softened into an expression even you don’t recognize. It’s watery, shifty and an utter mystery to you. His attentions seem to play tug of war between you and your weapon. You quirk an eyebrow quizzically, but he offers you no answers. You feel something akin to annoyance towards him, as if he’s being purposefully coy with you. Almost absentmindedly, your blade draws an invisible thread away from the dip of his collarbones to his throat.

You watch, waiting for him to flinch. He doesn’t. Instead, the strait of his jaw settles against the blade of your sword. His eyes close and he looks as if he’s sinking into a warm embrace rather than cold hard steel. Despite the warmth of exertion, you feel a shiver run down your spine. A prickling curiosity rises in you. Experimentally, you tilt the blade gently against the square of his jaw. He lifts his chin in response, leaving his throat vulnerable to your will. The pieces click in your mind. It’s a display of trust; of total devotion. He’s putting himself in your hands, and you want to grasp at him greedily.

His beauty is intimidating, looking nothing short of an angel in the firelight of the setting sun. The orange glow bounces from your sword in a soft line that settles over his face, and the waning sunlight catches the edges of his pitch dark hair like a halo. Deep shadows of violet are cast beneath his brow, giving his eyes the appearance of two precious stones hewn into living rock.

You feel yourself impossibly drawn to him in the heat of the moment. You attempt to maintain your coolness, and lower the blade. You do this slowly, savoring each minute movement as he lowers his head to meet your gaze. You open your mouth to speak but no words fall from your parted lips. Your hand twitches around your weapon and you toss it to the ground. It’s much too heavy to hold suddenly.

You step forward. Pino steps back. His back is pressed flat against the marble wall now.

Fuck.

Your heart pounds beneath your ribcage and you wonder if he can hear it, that desperate thudthudthud. The sight of him proves too overwhelming. Your mind is no longer flooded with doubts of your strength, of his care for you, of your deep bond. Fuck it all. You need him like air.

In one swift motion your hand is at the back of his head, your fingers instantly lost in the mess of ravens-feather curls. Your mouths crash together clumsily, though you hardly care. Your free hand scrambles to find his waist and you pull him close against your body.

Against your lips you feel his breath. A sound somewhere between a gasp and a whine is pulled from his mouth and you feel weightless as it echoes in your mind. You break your point of connection and hold his chin firmly in your palm. Gentle handling doesn’t come easy to you. This all feels like a long time coming, you realize. Perhaps this fire was lit long before you had the words for it. Before you ever had a chance of keeping it buried in your chest. Instead now it overcomes you.

With his face held tenderly in your hand, you admire each striking feature like a work of art. He does have a certain greek statuesque quality after all. His lids look heavy, dark lashes fluttering. The spread of freckles across his nose is illuminated by a subtle but undeniable ruddy pink.

You can feel his eyes on you now, as if he just woke from a dream, stepping into awareness again. He flinches towards you, but stops himself, mouth slightly agape in anticipation. You wonder if he has the capacity for nervousness. The thought is sort of charming. You sweep a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Any day now, tin man.” You tease.

And before you have time to yelp, you find yourself in the dewey grass with a dully aching head. Pinocchio’s legion arm comes into focus, pressed palm-down into the patch of earth beside your head. Your eyes travel up the arm until you’re face to face with the puppet again. You’re stunned. His human hand drags along your cheek and the ends of his dark hair brush against your face. Your face flushes and you feel stupid; he doesn’t seem to mind. He recaptures you in a kiss and you feel yourself melt into the ground.

Soon your hand is lost in his hair again, your fingertips dragging along the back of his neck. You’re so tempted to leave an imprint on the fair skin of his neck, to temporarily marr his delicate appearance. God, what would Sophia and the others think? You opt for a less visual approach and tug at the back of his head. Pino’s shoulders tense in surprise, and as you take a moment to breathe you catch his brows creasing together, eyes fluttering shut. Did you just send a shiver down the poor puppets spine?

Your hand retains its firm grasp at the base of his skull and you press your foreheads together. His skin is cool and smooth and feels to you like fresh air. You soak in the feeling and begin a ritualistic repositioning of limbs until you’re straddling his lap, elbows propped up on his sturdy shoulders, your palms cradling his freckle-flecked face. His arms are anchored around your waist and you have to lean down to meet him. The look he gives you is nothing short of intoxicating, all needy eyes and shallow breath.

God, you feel drunk.

The fingers of his legion arm twitch and you feel them slip just barely beneath the hem of your shirt. You place one hand over his, about to guide it further, give him permission to be less of a gentleman, when something crackles above your head.

As you listen closely, flecks of rain begin to spatter across your skin. You look up at the sky. The sun has set and in its place hangs a cloud-obscured moon and a flash of blue lightning across the stars. In an instant, rain pours over you, cold and heavy. P raises his arm to cover his head and offers the other to you. Scrambling to stand with the wet grass beneath your feet, you loop your arm through his. You stumble forward and feel a laugh bubble forth from your mouth. You didn’t even know it was there. Pinocchio tips his head at you, puzzled, but you’re dizzy and hot and the rain feels good and cold on your aching muscles and your head is still reeling with the taste of him on your tongue and you laugh all the way through the courtyard and the entryway until you collapse against the wall.

Once you’re both inside, P examines your face, tipping it every which way as if ensuring you haven’t lost your mind.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you choke between lingering bouts of snickering. You shake your head. It feels as though you’ve been thrown into a hurricane of emotional and physical extremes and are only now finding your footing again in normalcy. The relief makes you lightheaded. Pino acts as your trusted lifeline, firmly holding you in place at the waist. As you stand dripping in the corridor, you realize you haven’t really spoken since the night of the ambush.

“I never thanked you.” You start, “For keeping me alive, I mean. If it weren’t for you finding me…” His face falls completely as you trail off, eyes becoming dark and stormy. He must hate thinking about it. The realization makes you a bit embarrassed. Your gaze darts to the ground. “I just um. I wish I could repay it.” And as you say it, with your face still in his hands, he presses a kiss to your dewey forehead. It warms you from the inside. Your hand finds his and you squeeze tight.

“Come on.” you murmur against his ear. You pull at your soaked-through clothes and gesture down the hall. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes.”

And with that, you lead him away to your room.

#p x reader #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lop #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #hurt/comfort #kiss the fucking puppet #tw blood #ANGST #lies of p fanfic #my fic

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