#yes i fucking hate corporations but i feel like this and other companies rolling back their 'progressive' intiatives says something

[p33p33p00p00]

☹️

[sassbuttuniverse-blog]

Life after College

It's currently 5:44 in the morning, and no i am not a morning person. I haven't gotten any sleep yet because surprise surprise, at the age of 23, my sleeping schedule still sucks. I found myself logging on to this tumblr account. I guess I just really feel alone at the moment. Life update everyone, I am now a degree holder - plus plus plus *insert drum roll please* I am now also a license holder. Yes you heard it right, this procastinator passed the board exam for psychometrician. Duuuuude, i don't even know where to begin. So last year after graduating college, i got a job as an HR assistant for a veterinary clinic/cafe. I thought I was already set for life like yes-i'm-finally-an-adult-kind-of-moments, but ofuckingcourse, the universe hates me still and gave me a job that not only is morally depriving, but also mentally exhausting. Imagine working in a company where everyone knows each other because it's literally a castle of nepotism. Everyone is related to one another - yes related, as in they're all relatives. Blood relatives. It's hard to work as an HR when i have to give out sanctions to normal employees and let the bosses and other employees in the back office do whatever they want to do without any consequences. I felt caged, like going to work everyday is like a punishment to me. I even cry in shower because of how I dread going to work everyday. I cry to my boyfriend, to my friends, to my sister, and everyone inside my circle. On top of that miserable chapter of my life, my HR manager was a bitch who makes it her mission everyday to piss me off and let me do ALL the work while she just sits there all day doing nothing and takes all the credits for my hardwork. You know those type of adults that doesn't know how to move on from being a mean girl in highschool. She's like that. She thinks she's cool and all being loud and making fun of everyone. Fuck that shiiit. Long story short i only lasted for 3 months. I know, how pathetic. But I was literally losing my mind there and I felt that if I stayed I might get fired anyways because they don't like me. Why? Because they can't control and manipulate me into doing the things they want me to do. Which most of it are illegal anyways. No thanks, i'm good. See you never, assholes. So after resigning at my job, i decided to enroll in a review center to pursue my journey in getting the psychometrician license. To be honest, i think 80% of my reason on why i decided to pursue it is because I wanted to have an excuse on why I resigned. Like I'm convincing myself and the people around me that it's okay that i'm unemployed, I'm doing something more important anyways. I studied for 8 months and luckily i was able to pass the board exam last August. I was so happy and proud of myself. But it didn't last long because here I am now, after 3 months of passing the board exam, I'm still unemployed. I don't know why but i stopped looking for jobs online. I just stopped functioning. I feel like no job is suited for me. I want to practice my license and profession but there is no opportunity here. I kept looking online and the only jobs there is are all corporate related. Yes, HR again. I don't want to be an HR officer again, i dread it, like it makes me physically and mentally ill just thinking about it. So now I'm stuck and unmotivated and sad and all the other shitty feelings there is in this world. I feel like everyone around me is starting their lives already and I'm still here. Stuck. I wish I could start my life now too.

Anyways, future me, if you're reading this i hope you have a job already. You're not getting any younger, I hope you pull your shit together already. Make us proud. Live this life. Explore, travel, and meet other people. Don't hide in the house and rot in your room. Go to cafes, watch that movie in the cinema. Eat alone if no one wants to come with you. Just live. 23 year old us is currently a loser so I hope you're doing better there. Love you xx

[ppersonna]

my only wish - knj | m

“ santa can you hear me? i have been so good this year. and all i want is one thing. please tell me my true love is here ” - my only wish (this year), britney spears

✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 15.1k OOF

✹ genre- smut, fluff, tiny tiny angst if you squint, enemies to lovers, fake dating au, idiots to lovers, brief mention of YoonMin

✹ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex (dont do it), daddy kink lolol, namjoon has a big dick, oral sex (m/f receiving), cum swallowing, light cum play, dirty talk, light degradation (very light tbh), praise kink, lots of mentions of joon being a beefy boy, masturbation,

✹ a/n- its here!! finally! my contribution to rockin around the christmas tropes. big big big shout out to @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @untaemedqueen​ @underthejoon​ @yeojaa​ @snackhobi​ for being my co collaborators. and a warm shout out to @wwilloww​ and @hobi-gif​ for being some very lovely betas. thank you thank you! i hope you enjoy!

There are few things you hate most in this world. 

 Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange…

 But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things: 

 Christmas. 

 And Kim Namjoon. 

Christmas, in your opinion, is nothing more than a consumerist holiday, anchored on ensuring you’re guilted enough from November 1st to the 25th of December to spend your hard earned money on shit your friends and loved ones won’t even use. It’s a time for people to pretend they love giving and caring, while shoving you out of lines in stores, buying up all the groceries as if it’s the end times, and forcing party after mindless party for “celebration” that ends in seeing your boss drunk and pants-less by the punchbowl. 

 And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon. 

 On paper, he’s your colleague, to put the terms friendly. In reality, he’s your opponent, your adversary. He’s annoying, rude, stuck up, and not to mention a douchebag heartbreaker. He’s everything you hate wrapped in one disgustingly handsome face. 

 The man never misses a chance to steal a case from underneath your nose, rub the praise he receives from your bosses in your face, and look ridiculously delectable in his tight suits that he insists he wears around the office. He absolutely infuriates you. 

 And now, as you sit in the company-wide meeting, your heart sinks as you realize the worst thing about Namjoon—he’s about to get the promotion you’ve been vying for your entire career.

 That position was as good as yours—at least, you had thought.

 That was until lead counsel, Seokjin, stands in front of all the attorneys present and calls out Namjoon’s name, commending him on winning his latest case—the case that you had done the bulk of the work for. Seokjin even tells the rest of the lawyers in the room that Namjoon is “someone to watch” with a glint of pride in his eyes. 

 The smug smile Namjoon sends in your direction as he teasingly nibbles on a pen with his sultry mouth is enough to make you want to tear his eyes out and use them as olives in the martini you sorely needed.

 Namjoon smirks as he walks past you once the meeting ends.

 “Make sure you watch me, baby,” he whispers into your ear. 

 His hand rests on your lower back and you hate how much he aggravates you, and hate even more so that he frustrates you sexually as much as he does intellectually.

 Unfortunately, your body can’t keep up with your mind’s distaste for the elder lawyer. His presence around you makes your blood vessels tighten and your head feel light—nipples prickling against your bra when he winks at you.

 “Asshole,” you whisper under your breath as you pack up your notebook.

 “Oh, ___!” Seokjin calls out just as you’re about to leave the all-glass meeting room.

 Your head suddenly screeches to a very frustrated, sexual halt when you turn to face the lead counsel of your company.

 “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

 “I’ve got a case for you.”

 The smile on his face makes you relax. Maybe he sees your potential. Maybe he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing Namjoon. Maybe you’ll be the “one to watch” and you can rub that right in Namjoon’s perfect, stunning face.

 A thick manila folder slides across the oak table towards you from Seokjin’s hands. The impressive volume of the dossier makes you giddy with anticipation.

 “I know you won’t let me down.”

 You nod, nibbling at your lips, before bowing to your superior and dashing out of the room as fast as your Louboutins can handle.

 It’s not until you sit at your desk, a cramped little cubicle next to Park Jimin, your best friend and paralegal assistant, that you open the folder.

 Your heart sinks as your eyes hurriedly rush over the title page.

 Personal Injury Suit.

 A dejected sigh leaves you as you throw the folder onto your desk and slouch back in your ergonomic office chair.

 “What’s up, pussycat?” Jimin smiles as he rolls his chair over to your side of the cubicle. “Namjoon got you worked up again?”

 You groan as you take off your reading glasses, setting them aside to rub at the burgeoning headache building at your temples. You had momentarily forgotten all about Namjoon in the hurried hope that you’d land a case of significance, something you could finally use to prove yourself.

 Instead, you gained yet another in-and-out, settle outside of court case. Likely some elderly geriatric suing a corporation for too-slippery floors.

 “Another fucking personal injury suit,” you whine as you thrust the folder into the lithe paralegal’s hands.

 He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.

 “Man, Seokjin really has it out for you.”

 You level a look at your best friend, before nodding and holding your head in your hands.

 “Namjoon is getting all the good cases! He gets the media attention, the litigation deals, everything! It’s like I’m not even given a chance to show what kind of lawyer I can be when I’m stuck with all the nursing home and car accident suits!”

 Jimin bows dutifully, nodding his head as you express your woes.

 “I can do more than just personal injury litigation… and Seokjin knows that! It’s just that Namjoon keeps getting all the air-time!”

 “I know, babe. I know.”

 With one last sigh of disbelief, you take the folder out of Jimin’s hands and sit upright at your desk.

 “Well, I guess if I’m going to be a personal injury lawyer, I’m going to be the best fucking one yet. Let’s get to work.”

 “Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.

  Namjoon sighs as he listens to his mother blabber on and on through his phone. He leans back in his chair and surveys the wide expanse of his corner office.

 Seokjin gave him this space, an upgrade from the desolate cubicles when he won his last big case, Kim Taehyung, artist v. the city of New York. He can’t help but smirk as he glimpses you from his window, pouring over a case file. He notes the curve of your back in the silk blouse you’re wearing and the way it tucks into your pencil skirt. He wishes he could see the outline of your ass and watch as it sways back and forth when you walk.

 “I just don’t understand why you can’t ever bring anyone home for the holidays!”

 His mother breaks him from his silent reverie of detailing every aspect of your backside.

 “You know your grandmother will not be alive much longer! And all she wants is her only grandson to be happy and in love! And a few grandchildren won’t hurt!”

 “I am her grandchild, Mom.”

 She’s silent for a moment.

 “Well, I wouldn’t mind some grandchildren either.”

 He groans again and presses his fingers to his forehead, a headache bubbling up behind his eyes.

 “Don’t you act like that, young man! You have a big empty house, big car, big life, and no one to share it with. I just want you to be happy.”

 She continues on and Namjoon can’t help but let her words sink in.

 He has it all. Expensive luxury apartment, enormous bed, gorgeous kitchen, money to spend on traveling and enjoying life. Yet he spends most of his time here, stuck in his office. He’s utterly alone, regardless of how many social guests he tries to entertain, horrid dates he attempts to go on. He’s always left alone, and he feels it deep at the very bottom of his heart—the loneliness and desire for a companion.

 “Mom! Mom!” He interrupts her diatribe on the futility of his adult life. “Stop!”

 “Namjoon, I’m just conce-”

 “I’ll bring home my girlfriend for the holidays, okay?”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

 “A girlfriend?” she asks, tentatively. “Really?”

 “Yeah,” he breathes, wincing already at the lie he’s spoon-feeding his poor mother—all in the name of getting her off his back. “She’s kind of shy, so I didn’t want to tell you about her yet, but now seems like the best time. I’m... I’m even thinking of proposing.”

 The words come out of Namjoon’s mouth before he can stop them. His mom bursts into screams of delight, and he can tell she’s running to his beloved grandmother to tell her the news.

 “Oh, Namjoon! This is all we’ve ever wanted for you. I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to meet her! Oh, goodness, I can’t want to tell your father. Goodbye, son! I’ll see you two soon!”

 She hangs up before Namjoon has a chance to even breathe.

 “Fuck.”

 He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces. 

 How the hell is he going to find a fiance in the next 3 days before the holiday break? 

 There’s Jennie, his ex.

 He thinks about it for a moment, before quickly dismissing it. No, much too clingy and possessive. She’d take it to be real, and he’d be stuck with her.

 His last hookup, Jihoo?

 No, too aloof. His mom would never buy that they were a love-sick couple on the brink of engagement.

 A crash outside his office startles Namjoon, making him stand and exit the large corner suite.

 The commotion is coming from your cubicle, where he can see you’re struggling to use the decrepit computer. The crash must have been from you slamming the keyboard to the desk, causing the individual keys to pop off the board.

 “Shit! Jimin, help me put this keyboard back together!” 

 You shimmy out of your chair and onto your knees, an excellent sight for Namjoon if he wasn’t so concerned about your well-being.

 The paralegal is standing above you, watching as you kneel to gather the pieces of the obliterated keyboard.

 “Oh no, honey. It’s against my personal constitution to be on my knees unless it’s for a handsome man.”

 “God, Jimin, come on.”

 “Hey, it’s not my fault you hulk-smashed the life out of that poor keyboard.”

 Namjoon smirks, turning back into his office and sliding into his desk. He easily opens his MacBook and emails Yoongi in IT, requesting a brand new computer for your desk—no holds barred. He wants the top of the line for you.

 He suddenly has just the person in mind to be his fake fiancée. 

  A brand new, gorgeous computer is at your desk the next day you arrive.  You nearly spill your hot peppermint mocha when you see the sleek machine atop your old plastic desk instead of the broken clunker that was there the day before.

 “What the hell?” You ask Jimin as you set your coffee down gently as if any movement might scare the new computer away. “Did you order this?”

 “I love you, but I would never order you something this nice.” 

 You can’t help but roll your eyes as you sit down to marvel at the modern machinery. At least Jimin is honest.

 “Maybe I’ll call Yoongi and ask him where it came from,” you wonder aloud, hand hovering over your phone.

 “YOONGI?” Jimin screeches, eyes suddenly wide and crazed.

 “Yeah? The IT guy?”

 “I know who Yoongi is, you dumbass! Here, let me call him! I’m your assistant!”

 He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.

 “You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”

 Jimin smiles cherubically, completely ignoring your confusion. He’s suddenly the picture of a model employee.

 “Don’t you worry! I’ll be right on it!”

 He hops from your desk with your cell phone gripped tight, and saunters away to a secluded area out of your eyesight.

 “What the fuck is going on today?” You ask out loud, settling into your chair and unloading your bag of files.

 “How's the new computer?”

 The sudden intruder makes you jump, nearly spilling your coffee, yet again.

 “Fuck!” You shriek as you attempt to right yourself and the dangerously hot liquid sloshing in the paper cup. “You scared me!”

 The chuckle that comes from behind you makes your stomach flip. You know that laugh. You could recognize that laugh a hundred miles away, in a hurricane, with headphones on.

 That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.

 “I—How did you know about my computer?”

 Namjoon takes a knee, bringing his face to your level in your chair. He’s close to you, so dangerously close. You can smell the Giorgio Armani cologne applied to his pressure points—the heat of his skin warming the scent and mingling with his own subtleties. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head. He smells so comforting—like a home you never knew you were missing until he arrived.  

 “I saw it when I walked in this morning.” 

 He breaks you from your daydreaming of warm, firm hands caressing your body and you’re thrown headfirst back into reality—the reality where you can’t stand the man mere inches from you.

 You push back from where you are and stand, eager to get away from Namjoon’s sudden interest in close proximity. He smirks and rises from his spot, pocketing his hands in his tight cream suit.

 “Care to join me in my office for some coffee?” He asks.

 His office. The one he scored after he won the Kim Taehyung case. The bitter betrayal still lingers in your mouth. 

 For the longest time, you had been equal in every sense; both living in the dingy cubicles with the computers long-destined for retirement. Then, Seokjin awarded him with the corner office, the one with the view of the entire city. You’d never forgiven either of them.

 “I have my own coffee.”

 Namjoon smirks as he eyes your paper cup, clearly a quick grab from the 7-Eleven around the corner.

 “Looks fancy.”

 You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.

 “Please,” he asks again. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

 Namjoon’s face loses its snark, and you’re curious about what could cause the man to become so serious.

 “Fine.”

 You motion with your arm towards his office, encouraging him to walk ahead. He smirks again, ah—there’s that smirk, before he turns and heads into the gorgeous corner room.

 He lingers by the door as you enter, waiting until you’ve crossed the threshold to close the door behind you. It surprises you. Something about being in a closed room with Namjoon sets you on edge. You can nearly imagine the man bending you over that fine oak desk, hiking your skirt up and spanking your ass until it’s red.

 “Coffee?” He asks as he moves towards the in-office espresso machine.

 “Are you fucking kidding me? You have a Nespresso in your office?” 

 All desperate and wanton thoughts of Namjoon sliding into you leave once you see the stainless steel contraption in the room's corner. Of course he has a $500 coffee machine in his office. He has everything you want.

 “You like it?” His question is cocky. He already knows the answer.

 “Fuck off.”

 Namjoon grins and turns the machine on, pulling out two mugs while you sip your now lukewarm coffee. It suddenly tastes disgusting.

 “So, what’s the deal, Namjoon?” You ask as he rests against the wall and waits for the coffee to brew. “You said it was important.”

 Namjoon nods, a more reserved look taking the place of his usual cocky grin on his face. His gaze turns down to his shiny dress shoes.

 “I need a favor.”

 “No.” Your answer is quick.

 Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.

 “You haven’t even heard it yet!”

 “Yeah, well…,” you huff. “I’m not interested in helping you.”

 Namjoon leaves his post by his elaborate coffee maker, forgetting about the piping-hot liquid drizzling into white mugs, as he stands in front of you. There’s that fucking cologne again. Why does he have to smell so good?

 “You’ve got to help me. Please.”

 His sudden closeness to you sets your brain off—your steely resolve begins to crumble.

 “Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”

 His face lights up again. God, he has such a handsome mouth.

 “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for my family Christmas party.”

 If you hadn’t had such a good grip on the convenience store cup of coffee, it’d surely drop from your clutch and splatter on the expensive carpet of Namjoon’s office.

 Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.

 “You—You what?!”

 Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.

 “Look, I…” he struggles. “I told my mom I have a girlfriend, so she’d get off my back about it.”

 “And why am I suddenly your best option for that?!” 

 You step away from the man, determined to clear your mind as the scenario weaves its way through your head. 

 Namjoon’s girlfriend. He wants you to be his girlfriend.

 Well, his fake girlfriend.

 He would hold your hand. He would kiss you. He would touch your body in ways you convince yourself you don’t think of often. 

 “You’re the only girl I know who’s got a good enough poker face to go along with it. And honestly… you’re the only girl I really know well enough.”

 His last admission shocks you. Namjoon seems like the womanizing type—one to bring a different girl home every night.

 “That doesn’t explain why the fuck I would want to help you.”

 Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.

 “If you help me, I’ll take all your shitty cases that Jin is giving you.”

 Your eyes narrow at the tall man. It seems too good to be true.

 “How d'you know about them?”

 Namjoon shrugs and grabs a mug full of freshly brewed expensive coffee.

 “I can hear you complain to Jimin about it every day.”

 You grumble under your breath, sucking on your teeth as you try to process the terms of Namjoon’s deal.

 “So you want me to be your fake girlfriend for your family…” you muse.

 “Yes,” he agrees. “And I’ll do all your worst cases for the next 2 months. I’ll even give you my next big one. I know you want that.”

 God, he’s right. That’s all you want. A chance to prove yourself to Seokjin, to the company.

 With an aggravated sigh, you relent. 

 “Fine! But it better be a good fucking case. And, I’m using your coffee maker every morning.”

 Namjoon can’t help but chuckle, loving the fire in your voice. 

 “Deal?” He murmurs.

 He holds out his hand to shake on it, and it takes you by surprise how warm and soft his large hands are once you slide your own into his grip.  

 “Deal.”

 Jimin is not going to let you live this one down.

  Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.

 He’s sitting on your couch, legs crossed underneath him as he hoists his wine glass filled to the brim. He holds it away from his body as he shakes with laughter.

 “You’re telling me,” he wheezes. “That you agreed to be Namjoon’s fake Christmas girlfriend? You hate that man!”

 Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.

 “Yeah, well, it was my only option. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

 “Okay, Godfather,” Jimin snickers. “Lord knows you still want to bone that man, anyway.”

 “Jimin!” You admonish. “I do not! And that wasn’t the deal!”

 He sips at his red wine with an impish smile. You hate it when Jimin looks at you like that, like he can see behind the lie you’ve so carefully crafted of your hatred for Namjoon.

 “Then tell me, what was the deal?”

 You fiddle with the stem of your own wine glass, sighing.

 “He’s offered to take all our shitty personal injury suits for the next two months. And he’s giving me his next big case.”

 Jimin actually looks surprised—as if he didn’t expect Namjoon to provide a deal so worth the cost.

 “Wow,” he breathes.

 You nod in reply, taking a large gulp of the pinot grigio in your glass.

 “You’re still going to fuck him though, I know it,” Jimin adds.

 You splutter your wine from your mouth, hand reaching over to gently slap Jimin on his taut abdomen.

 “Shut up!” You cry.

 Jimin looks proud of himself, sipping his red wine gleefully while he settles further into your couch. Wine nights with Jimin is the highlight of your weeks. Together, you bitch over cases, coworkers, dating struggles, and eat too much cheese and cured meats and nurse a hangover the following day with brunch.

 “Hey,” you say to Jimin as you set your wine down on the coffee table. “Did you ever talk to Yoongi?”

 Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.

 “Yoongi? Yoongi who?”

 “Oh my god,” you groan. “Yoongi from IT. You stole my phone to call him today? To ask about my new computer?”

 Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.

 “Oh. Yes, I did.”

 “And?” You encourage the blonde to answer further.

 “And he’s doing well,” Jimin replies demurely.

 “Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”

 Jimin makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth and bites his lip.

 “I… might have forgotten to ask.”

 Your mouth drops open.

 “You literally stole my phone out of my hands to call him! What did you talk about?!”

 There’s his blush again. The shade of pink on Jimin’s cheeks would be adorable if you weren’t so flabbergasted by his answers.

 “I have a date tomorrow night.” He takes another sip as you let the reply sink in.

 “Oh. My. God.” You gasp, a smile now overtaking your features. “You have a crush on Min Yoongi!”

 Jimin sets his wine glass down next to yours and turns to you.

 “I had no idea if he was into me! But when I called, I totally forgot why I was calling him and we sort of just… started talking and next thing I know, he’s asking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”

 You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.

 “You little slut—using my phone to get yourself a date. On company time!”

 Jimin sticks his tongue out at you, before grabbing a pillow and slapping you with the overstuffed cushion.

 “At least I didn’t agree to be his fake girlfriend!”

  It’s the sound of your phone ringing at 7:32 am that wakes you from your spot on the couch, wine glass still clutched in your hand.

 “What the fuck?” You grumble, eyes blearily seeking the offending object disturbing your sleep.

 Jimin grumbles next to you, kicking at your foot as if it will stop the phone from ringing.  

“Stop,” he whines and cuddles into his fetal position. “Turn it ooooff.”

 You locate your cell phone and groan as you recognize the name on the caller ID. Namjoon. What the fuck could he possibly be calling for? And why did he have to call at seven in the goddamn morning? 

 “What do you want?” You snap as you hold the phone to your cheek and throw yourself back onto the couch.

 “Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”

 Namjoon’s voice, as sexy and sultry as it sounds, still aggravates you.

 “Why are you calling me? It’s Saturday. Its seven am.”

 Namjoon chuckles and you fight the shiver that works through your spine at the sound.

 “I tend to keep human hours on the weekend.”

 You can’t hold back the sarcastic guffaw that escapes you.  

 “Okay, Mr. Perfect,” you sigh. “That doesn’t explain calling me.”

 Jimin kicks at your foot again. 

 “Stop talking,” he grumbles.

 God, Jimin is such a diva when he’s hungover.

 “Meet me at the cafe on First Street,” Namjoon says casually. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

 “Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.

 “I’m literally already here. Hurry before your coffee gets cold.”

 You let out a whine that could rival a 5-year-old’s temper tantrum.

 “Fuck you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 There’s no care about your phone when you end the call and throw it to the floor.  Jimin grumbles and rubs at his eyes.

 “Why the fuck are you having phone sex with Namjoon so early in the morning?” He asks.

 “Jimin, I swear to God.”

 He wraps himself in the throw blanket and buries his face back into the couch while you stand and retreat to your bedroom to throw on some semblance of appropriate clothing for the occasion.

 “Fucking Namjoon,” you grumble under your breath as you change into jeans and a sweater. “Fuck him and his stupid, sexy face. And his unbelievable ass. And his stupid, probably enormous penis. Man, I hate him.”

 As you’re re-entering the living room and grabbing your important items (keys, wallet, lip gloss just in-case), Jimin pops his head out of his blanket cave.

 “Where are you going?” He asks, suddenly less annoyed and more pathetic. “You’re leaving me?”

 “I have to go meet Namjoon for coffee. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.”

 “You’re really going to let me suffer here? Alone? With no coffee?”

 You spin around to face your best friend, who’s giving you an absolutely soul-crushing pout and puppy eyes.

 “Yes. Call Yoongi.”

 His precious pout is wiped away, and a devious smirk takes its place.

 “Great idea!” He says as he digs around for his phone. “Be careful out there! It’s icy! Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall on Namjoon’s dick.”

 Your only reply is one singular middle finger in Jimin’s direction as you exit your apartment.

  Namjoon can’t help but smile as he sips his warm coffee. The cafe is warm and bright, despite the chill outside. 

 Things feel peaceful. Tender flakes of snow trickle down outside and frost up the shop’s window. There’s something about this time of year that strikes him down to the core. Something cozy, something warm.

 It’s odd to think this will be his first year not celebrating the holiday alone.

 Even if it is... well, fake. 

 The bell over the door chimes an arrival, and Namjoon can tell by the grumbles and grunts and stomps of snowy boots that it’s you.

 “Over here!” He calls, raising a hand and turning to face you.

 Wow, he thinks. You look gorgeous, even without trying.

 You hurry your way over to the booth and plop yourself on the opposite side, immediately lunging for the obvious mug of coffee waiting for you on the table. You don’t waste a minute gulping the liquid down your throat, then spluttering when you realize it’s still hot.

 “I thought you said it was getting cold!” You cry, airing out your burnt tongue. Namjoon can’t help but imagine that tongue sliding up and down his cock.

 Not now. Wrong time and place to get a boner.

 Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino. 

 “I got you a fresh one.”

 You make a face, but your features soften. As if you’re pleased with the idea that Namjoon cared to freshen up your cup.

 “Oh, well--”, you manage. “Thank you.”

 Namjoon doesn’t reply, but merely tips his head. The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife. Normally, you’re both normally so wound up in aggravating the other that a moment of calm is strange, but not unwelcome.

 “So, why the early morning wake up?” You finally ask, fiddling with the handle of the mug.

 Namjoon settles his cup down.

 “We need to get to know each other. Deep shit, you know. The shit that lovers would know about each other.”

 He notices you, watches as you nibble at your lip. You try hard to hide it behind the mug you lift to your lips, but Namjoon notices. 

 “I’m hoping maybe we could spend the day together,” he adds. “I need to get some Christmas gifts for my family and… well, it’s rather lonely doing it on my own.”

 There’s a slight smile at the ends of your lips.

 “And you needed me at seven thirty in the morning to do that?”

 He stifles a laugh.

 “Like I said, I operate at regular human hours. Even on weekends,” he replies.

 With a dramatic sigh, you agree.

 “Fine,” you say. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”

 He watches as you settle into the seat of the booth, hands gripping the warm mug like it’s a personal heater. He notices you’re only wearing jeans and a sweater--no properly warm clothing for the snow storm ahead. He’ll have to fix that, and soon.  

 “What are you doing for Christmas?” He asks.

 You level a look.

 “Spending it pretending to be in love with you.”

 Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.

 “I meant after that.”

 You shrug as you settle back into the seat.

 “I don’t like Christmas. I don’t do much other than force Jimin to kiss me under the mistletoe and watch shitty movies with a gallon of boxed wine.”

 “Hmm,” he hums. “You’re sort of a Grinch.”

 A scowl comes over your face.

 “I am not! I just don’t buy into this whole ‘prove how much you love me by buying me things’ shit. It’s a big scheme, I tell you! Capitalist propaganda! They encourage you to spend all your money, and if you don’t, they shame and guilt you by telling you you don’t love your family enough.”

 Namjoon can’t help but laugh as you rant. It’s what makes you such a talented lawyer—your ability to feel a passion so deep within you you’re able to convince a stone-faced jury of your side.

 “Don’t laugh at me!” You cry. “I’m serious! My family doesn’t celebrate, I don’t celebrate. I’d rather just buy gifts for my loved ones when I see something they’d like. Why do we have to put a time of year on it?”

 He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.

 “I suppose that makes sense,” he muses. “But you’re still a Grinch. And a Scrooge. You’ll definitely get visited by some Ghosts at midnight.”

 “Ha ha,” you snark sarcastically. “Hilarious, Namjoon. Don’t tell me you’re a big festive guy.”

 “Somewhat. It’s my Mom’s favorite holiday. It’s why she’s so bent out of shape about me having a girlfriend. Something about family and love and shit.”

 You nod, understanding him completely. Your own mother, despite her reservations towards the holiday, still makes a fuss over your single status. There must be some Mom code to obsess over your children’s woeful dating life.

 “Well, I say let’s get on with it then. Ready to hit the shops?” He asks.

 You’re mid-sip of your finally cooled coffee and you send a desperate look to the man in front of you.

“Already?!”

 “We’re burning daylight, baby.”

 Namjoon stands and you can’t help but feel a roar of flames in your belly at the pet-name. Your cheeks are surely flaming up and you admonish yourself for getting so peaked about such a trivial name.

 “Please don’t tell me we’re walking,” you murmur as you sneak a peek outside.

 The snow is falling down harder now, and you’re dreadfully underdressed for the weather.

 Namjoon tsks at your lack of outerwear, but then shakes his head.

 “No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”

 You roll your eyes and grimace.

 “Of course. You have a fucking Nespresso machine and a Range Rover. Asshole.”

 Namjoon doesn’t even think about it as he grabs your hand and laces his fingers in between yours. If anyone asked, he’d say it’s practice—to familiarize himself with the way your fingers slot between his own so it’s not such a foreign concept when he does it in front of his family.

 “Yeah, but I’m your asshole now, princess.”

 Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.

 Normally, you dread the lines and the crowds and the confusion and the expense.

 But with Namjoon, you relax and banter away with the tall lawyer. You’re completely at ease as you walk through crowded aisles and sort through racks of cashmere sweaters and stacks of fuzzy blankets.

 “Mom will love this, don’t you think?” Namjoon asks, holding up a thick, exquisite looking blanket.

 You’re about to answer with an affirmative when you catch yourself. You don’t even know his mom. You’ve never met the woman. Why does it feel as if Namjoon is someone you’ve known your entire life? 

 Why do things feel so easy with him?

 “Sure, Namjoon,” you reply. “Seems like something most mother’s would be into.”

 He smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile too, one that nearly knocks you on your ass. Your body is sent into overdrive constantly. He holds your hand, he places his hand at the small of your back to guide you through a thick crowd. He calls you baby and princess and doll.

 It’s confusing.

 It’s amazing.

 You can’t tell if you love it or hate it.

 Namjoon pushes the shopping cart and walks beside you, chatting easily about his various aunts and uncles names that you likely must remember at some point but you just can’t think about anything but Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

 You hate him. He stole that corner office from you. He’s going to take the promotion you want from right under your nose. He has a goddamn Nespresso in his office and a Range Rover. 

 And yet, you can’t help but fall in place next to him and listen to him tell stories of his childhood, weaving tales of uncles who snuck him his first sips of alcohol and aunts who spoil him rotten. He’s easy to listen to, a natural story-teller. Your body feels warm, as if you’re sitting on a large hearth by a roaring fire. He’s comforting.

 It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once. 

 ��And that’s when my cousin Jungkook got caught smoking cigarettes. My grandma beat our ass so bad I couldn’t sit for a day.”

 Namjoon finishes his story and turns to look at you. You’ve been staring at the man for nearly a minute straight now.

 “Hey,” his voice is soft. “You listening?”

 You shake out of the trance Namjoon’s deep voice sends you into.

 “Yeah!” You reply with a smirk. “Sounds like this Jungkook is a guy I’d like to meet.”

 Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.

 “Hey, you’re my girlfriend, remember.”

 You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

 “Fake girlfriend. I’m still a single, desirable lady at the end of the day.”

 Namjoon hesitates before answering. He wants to reply something snarky, something sarcastic and witty. But he takes a moment to pause, allows himself to fully immerse himself in you. Even hungover, in yesterday’s jeans and an old sweater, you’re still an absolute catch. You’re the definition of desirable and Namjoon can’t help but allow himself to desire.

 “Hmm, is that what you call it?” He asks, now allowing the sarcasm to permeate his words. “I was thinking you’re more of the spinster, cat-lady type.”

 “Hey!” You pout as you slap at his arm. “I’m allergic to cats!”

 “But you don’t deny being a spinster.”

 “Fuck you, Namjoon.”

 He grins and pushes the carts towards the candle aisle, a sure-fire gift for his aunties.

 “In due time, my love.”

  By the time Christmas Eve arrives, you’ve spent nearly every day with Namjoon. At work, he brings you fresh coffee from his Nespresso and buys you lunch. You’ve even landed his big case, an incredibly complex lawsuit that will showcase your skills. Namjoon gives you pointers and space to talk through the case with him.

Namjoon is, in fact, simply being kind. And it unsettles you.

 Your heart and brain are at war with each other constantly. You should hate him, loathe him. He’s going to nail that promotion regardless of what you prove to Seokjin.

 But your heart tells you he deserves it. He’s an incredible attorney and has earned every ounce of respect. You want Namjoon to get that promotion just to see that smile on his face. He’d do incredible things as Seokjin’s protege to take over the firm.

 You hate to admit it, but Namjoon has melted the ice around your heart. And you’re dreading the day after all this is over, because it will be the day Namjoon stops holding you close and pressing soft kisses to your temple. It will be the day he stops pretending this is all real.

 It’s Christmas Eve and you’re sitting in Namjoon’s expensive Range Rover, plush leather seat toasty from the built-in seat warmer. You can’t help but marvel at the way the oncoming headlights brighten up Namjoon’s features as he drives you down a snowy mountain lane. They always hold the Kim family holiday party at Namjoon’s late grandfather’s cabin in the mountains, a quiet getaway for the family to gather and spend the night together to wake up on Christmas morning and gather around for presents and food.

 Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.

 It’s something you’ve dreamt of often, but denied yourself any actual possibility of it. Namjoon was always out of reach, and it was easier to hate him for his success he rightfully deserved than it was to admit the feelings that were always inside.

 And now, although it’s artificial, you can’t bear to think of not spending your time with Namjoon anymore.

 You steal a glance again at him, and smile as you hear his faint humming. He loves Christmas music. You learned that early in the week during another early morning coffee and ‘get to know you’ before work. Namjoon couldn’t stop singing Mariah Carey’s classic pop song under his breath as it played over the speakers in the cafe. 

 “It’s so pretty up here,” you muse as you force your vision away from Namjoon’s gorgeous face to the snowy scenery outside. 

 The snow is falling gently, not enough to cause a blizzard but enough to make it seem like you’re trapped in a picturesque snow-globe. Leaving the city and entering the magical forest stirs an emotion inside you you hadn’t felt in some time.

 It’s Christmas Eve and there’s just something magical.

 Ugh. Unbelievable.

 Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.

 He nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite place in the world, I think.”

 “I can see why,” you sigh. “It looks like a painting.”

 Namjoon glances over at you peering through the window. His heart hammers in his chest hard as your glittering eyes bounce around from tree to tree, a pretty smile on your face. The diamond ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a literal ton and he nibbles at his lip.

 He bought it for the showmanship of it all, initially. It was his first purchase he made when he set up this whole rouse.

 But now, it feels real. It feels like he’s really about to get on one knee and ask you, the girl he’s absolutely head over heels for, to marry him.

 And then it will be over.

 He’ll make up some story to tell his mom about how it didn’t work out and you’ll go back to being his coworker, and nothing more.

 Namjoon can’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 Nothing more.

 He pulls into the driveway before you even have time to realize you’re there. He puts the car in park and smiles over at you. 

 He looks so cute in his puffy winter coat, hair pushed to the side and a smile that’s all dimples and cheeks.

 Fuck.

 “We’re here,” he whispers. “You ready?”

 Suddenly, the nerves of meeting your fake boyfriend’s entire family slap you right in the face. You hope that you’re a good enough actress to get Namjoon through the night and into the morning.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 He nods and squeezes your hand, an unspoken comforting ‘I got you’.

 Namjoon gathers his wrapped gifts and stacks them all in his arms, ignoring your pleas and giggles to help carry them in.

 “No, no,” he assures. “I have to make sure my mom sees me being manly and helpful.”

 As if on cue, the front door opens and Mrs. Kim is bursting out into the snowy night.

 “Namjoon!” She shrieks, completely overjoyed. The rest of the family is standing by the door, eyeing you carefully with smiles and whispers. You pray to whatever Christmas God that’s listening that you can do this.

 Namjoon sets the pile of gifts down just in time to wrap his delicate and tiny mother in his arms, hugging her tightly while she gleefully buries her face into her tall son’s chest.

 “Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”

 Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.

 “Missed you too, eomma.”

 The scene has you misty-eyed and you swipe at your eyes to stop the tears. There’s no way you’re ruining the fantastic makeup you did for the occasion, but the reunion of Namjoon and his mother is heart-warming. He clearly cares for his mother more than he would outwardly admit. 

 Namjoon and his mother unwrap from each other and Namjoon turns towards you.

 “Everyone, this is ____,” he breathes. “My girlfriend.”

 His mother’s gleeful squeals now turn to you, and within an instant she’s gathering you up in just as tight of a hug as she did to her son.

 “Oh, darling, we are so happy to meet you,” she beams.

 The excitement in her voice makes you feel bad—like you’re conning an old woman out of her retirement. You’re instilling a sense of hope in the kind woman, and you can’t help but send Namjoon a look as you wrap your arms around her and return the embrace. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t read.

 “I’m happy to meet you too,” you smile as you pull apart. “Thank you for letting me come.”

 “No thanks necessary,” she admonishes with a wink. “We had to beg Namjoon to bring you. It seems he wants to keep you all to himself.”

 “Eomma!” Namjoon snaps. “Be appropriate!”

 She nudges you with her elbow knowingly, which makes your cheeks flame hot, before she leads the way back into the house.

 “Come in, come in! Let’s get out of this snow.”

 Namjoon encourages you to step inside with a gentle hand at the small of your back—a touch that makes your body light up brighter than a Christmas tree.

 “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear from behind. You can feel the warmth of his lips and your body reacts.

How is it that any simple act makes you desperately horny for the man? You pray for some respite from your sexual frustration over the next day. How are you going to last over 24 hours?

 Namjoon deposits his massive haul of gifts under the tree and returns to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you close. He introduces you to uncles and aunts and cousins. He even introduces you to his infamous cousin, Jungkook, who smirks at you in a way that makes Namjoon pull you in closer to his body.

 “Are you doing okay?” Namjoon finally asks after the rush of relatives greeting you dies down. He turns you towards him, to face him directly with his hands on either of your shoulders. “You’re killing it.”

 You can’t help but smile. Namjoon’s family is all incredibly kind and funny. They welcome you into the family with ease and it chips away a little more each time at your heart.

 Because this is all fake. 

 One day, Namjoon really will have a girlfriend to bring to Christmas and to show off to his relatives and it won’t be you. You’ll be back at your apartment, watching shitty TV re-runs and binging on Chinese takeout, as you do every year. It’s a jab at your heart each time the bitter truth rears its ugly head.

 “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”

 “Look!” Jungkook shouts. “They’re standing under the mistletoe!”

 Namjoon blushes a shade of red that likely matches a blush on your own cheeks. Sure enough, the green branches of the mistletoe taunt you from above. 

 You’ve never kissed Namjoon before. In all the skinship and closeness of the last week, you’ve still yet to close the gap to kissing the man. 

 “Oh, come on Kook, that’s a stupid tradition,” Namjoon murmurs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.

 “Well, if you’re not going to do it, I’d be more than happy to take your place.”

 Jungkook wraps a loose arm around you and gives you a charming smile. He must be very popular with the ladies, you think. That’s a charming smile.

 “Hey!” Namjoon grabs for your hand and tugs you out of Jungkook’s predatory gaze. “She’s my girlfriend.”

 Namjoon looks at you for a moment, assessing your comfort level with everything about to take place. His lips look so inviting, so plush and warm. Now that you’re thinking about kissing him, you can’t help but focus on the way his lips pucker so gently and naturally.

 And then it happens. Namjoon lowers his face towards you and it feels as if the world is in slow-motion. It’s happening.

 The first press of his lips is soft and conservative. You take a split second to register, but instinctively you press against his lips with determination and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

 He groans softly as you trail your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opens for you without hesitation. His hands grip at your waist and bring your body flush against his. You can feel his cock twitching and rising from the kiss that’s gone from innocent and playful to passionate and deep. It feels like the world around you has stopped and the only thing that matters is Namjoon, his mouth, his body against your own. He tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and you want more, more.

 “Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook’s voice shatters your illusion of being all alone with Namjoon. “Now you’re just showing off.”

 Namjoon pulls away from you, eyes dazed as he tries to right himself. 

 “You two are just so perfect for each other,” Namjoon’s mother says, who’s suddenly appeared in Jungkook’s place. “Let me show you your bedroom.”

 “Oh, we’re sharing?” You ask without thought. It’s a large house, with ample bedrooms surely for you to have your own space.

 Namjoon nudges you in the ribs gently, eyes widening and mouthing a ‘what the fuck do you mean?’ 

 “Of course dear, don’t be silly,” his mother replies with an eyebrow waggle and a chuckle. “I remember when your father and I were dating. He would sneak into my room after my parents went to bed and keep me up all night long. Your grandfather would ask me if I had terrible dreams that night, because I looked so tired.”

 Namjoon makes a face. “Eomma, please,” he begs. “Please don’t talk about my parents like that.”

 As his mother guides you down a long hallway, your mind is whirring with too many thoughts of Namjoon, of sharing a bedroom with Namjoon, of seeing his sleeping face and waking up next to him. It’s all too much, too overwhelming. You pray there’s a couch in the room you could sleep on, because you’re far too weak and you’d rather fight the desperation in your body than face the fact that you want nothing more than to curl right into Namjoon’s strong arms and let him hold you all night to sleep.

 Fuck.

 “Here we are!” 

 His mother opens the door with grace, and flicks on the light. The room is beautiful in its simplicity. A king sized bed, a fireplace, and a balcony with a view of the sprawling snowy scene outside. It’s cozy and warm and decorated with its own Christmas tree.

 “Wow,” is all you can muster.

 “Aish, Mom,” Namjoon sighs as he drops his bags. “You didn’t need to do all of this for us.”

 Mrs. Kim holds his hand in both of hers. “Well, I know how special this Christmas is going to be,” she winks. “I want you to enjoy your time here. Now, I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. Dinner is in an hour, so ‘freshen up’!”

Another wink, and Namjoon makes another face. She definitely wants grandchildren, that much is for certain.

 She closes the door behind her and you’re left standing in the room, overnight bag in hand.

 “This is—Wow, this is amazing.”

 You’ve never experienced Christmas like this—with decorations and warmth and family. It’s as if the love of the Kim family permeates the very walls of the expansive cabin, like it’s built into the foundation itself. For a moment, you allow yourself to soak it all in. This is all yours. It’s your Christmas and you finally understand why so many make such a fuss over it. The results are nothing short of remarkable.

 “Yeah, she really does the most,” Namjoon laughs. 

 He takes the bag from your hand without your notice and you step towards the balcony to peer into the night. The landscape looks as if everything has been covered in soft marshmallow. The snow is untouched—picture perfect.

 “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

 Namjoon settles your bag and his on the bed, watching as you soak in your own wonder. The smile on your face is not one he sees often, one of pure joy. Namjoon swallows hard as he realizes he wants to be the one to always put that smile on your face.

 “Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”

 You turn from the still-life view outside and back to Namjoon, where he stands at the foot of the bed. He looks so different outside the office. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a flannel shirt, his puffy jacket hanging by the door. No cream suit, no slicked back hair or shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Just simply Namjoon.

 He’s no longer the man who steals the limelight in the office. He’s no longer the man you see as your adversary or your rival.

 He’s the man who’s showing you the magic of Christmas, the spirit of love and kindness that embodies the season.

 He’s the man you’ve fallen in love with.

 And yet, he’s the man who will leave once this is over and return to his proper life, and you to yours. He’ll return to sleeping with models and movie starlets, and you’ll return to binge watching Great British Bake-Off with Jimin and a carton of Chicken Tikka Masala.

 And Christmas will never feel as special as it does now. 

 So, you’re determined to soak in it for a little longer. It’s going to hurt regardless, so why not push that hurt off until tomorrow and allow yourself to pretend you live the lie you’re spinning for Namjoon’s family?

 “I think I’ll just freshen up and change into my dinner outfit, then?” You ask out loud, grabbing for your overnight bag and heading towards the ensuite.

 Namjoon, who expected a witty retort, takes a moment to reply.

 “Oh,” he coughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll err—, I’ll just get ready out here.”

 You quickly escape into the bathroom, closing the door and resting on it as you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

 The tension in the bedroom with Namjoon was too thick, too powerful, especially after the kiss you just shared. His cock had been there, straining in his jeans as you licked into his mouth. The kiss felt so natural, as if you had always kissed Namjoon like that. Your heart beats loud and hard in your chest just from the thought of it.

 You really needed to get a handle over yourself. You still have dinner to get through, and an entire night in a bedroom with Namjoon. A bed with Namjoon.

 No, you won’t allow yourself to go that far. You can pretend you’re his girlfriend, but all thoughts of his delectable body doing scintillating things to yours is strictly off-limits. You shake all thoughts of a thick, heavy cock sliding into your mouth and warm hands spreading you open, and set about fixing your makeup and changing into the gorgeous cocktail dress you purchased for the occasion. It wasn’t often you got to get dressed up. The emerald green velvet dress clings to your body and highlights your curves. It’s a sexy dress, definitely, but also appropriate for a formal evening with your boyfriend’s parents.

 Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.

 After fixing your hair and buckling your heels, you take one last glimpse in the mirror for good luck and exit the room.

 Your breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you see Namjoon. 

You’ve seen him dressed up for court and for TV appearances millions of times, but you’ve never seen him like this.

 He wears a blood red button up without a tie, a few buttons open to emphasize the casual look, tucked into the tightest and sexiest slacks you’ve ever seen. They hug his thighs and sit at a spot on his waist that you just know is rippling with cut lines from his work in the gym. His hair is tucked back with a bit of hairspray, and he’s fixing the sleeves of his shirt when he sees you.

 His eyes widen and his hands fall to his sides as he soaks in your appearance.

 An absolute vision.

 He can see the gentle valley between your breasts and the way your dress pushes up your cleavage and displays your collar.  The dress follows the delicate curve of your waist and hips and ends at your knee, but teases him with a glimpse of thigh that has him wiping his mouth in case he’s drooling. 

 “You look incredible,” Namjoon murmurs as you step closer.

“So do you.”

 You swallow hard as he continues closer to you, breathing harshly as he stands right in front of you. You could reach out and unbuckle his expensive slacks and fist his cock right there. You’d fall on your knees for him, if he asked.

 There’s a moment of silence as Namjoon’s face inches closer and closer to your own, each unable to verbalize just how desperate either of you feel for the other.

 “Namjoon, I—,” you start. You want to tell him. You want to tell him everything—that you don’t want this to be fake, that you want this to be real, and you want to be his and his forever.

 “Yes?”

 You swallow hard, shaken by just how close his lips are to yours. He’s inches away and all you can focus on is the way his plush lips look and how well they fit against your own under the mistletoe.

 “I just—, I really um, I’m just very…” 

 You’re not making sense. Comprehension of language is quickly soaring out the window because the only words you know are ‘Please, for the love of God, kiss me and make me yours’, but you can’t bring yourself to speak them out loud.

 Namjoon’s hand cups your cheek, as if he can tell what you’re trying to say.

 “Yeah,” he breathes. The inches between you turn to centimeters, to bare millimeters. Your eyes flutter close as you feel his breath dance over your lips and your heart beats so loud you’re sure the entire household can hear it. He’s right there and moves in to close the distance—

 “Knock Knock!!”

 The forceful, cheery voice of cousin Jungkook forces both of you to jump away from each other as if you’ve touched a burning stove. Your head feels light, like you’ve forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes and you’ve suddenly taken in too much air.

 The wooden door squeaks open and Jungkook pokes his head in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 “Auntie sent me to get you. It’s dinnertime!”

 Namjoon rubs his face frustratedly. “Yes, thank you, Jungkook.”

 Jungkook doesn’t leave, however. He smiles at you and winks. 

“Would you like an escort to dinner, madame? You look tastier than the roast beef downstairs.”

 A blush creeps over your cheeks as Namjoon storms to the door where his cousin laughs.

 “That’s enough, Kook. We’ll be down in a minute.”

 He sends you one more grin, then retreats from the door and closes it behind him.

 “Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologizes. You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for—Jungkook, or the moment before.

 “It’s alright. Let’s go?”

 Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.

 “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

  Dinner with the Kim family is as delightful as every other interaction with them has been. They’re polite and funny and ask questions about your life and your family.

 They ask how you met Namjoon (at work), what your favorite quality about him is (his smile and his ass), and what your first date together was (coffee at seven in the morning).

 You tell stories of Namjoon in the office, of your best friend Park Jimin who’s secretly trying to date the IT manager, of your parents and Christmases past.

 By the time dessert is served, Namjoon’s mother looks at you as if you’ve put the very stars in the sky.

 Namjoon doesn’t miss that look either. He can see the way his family is falling in love with you and somewhere deep in his stomach, he feels the guilt rising. All of this is a lie. Not only is he going to break his own heart, but every heart of his family member’s too. 

 “We’re all just so overjoyed that Namjoon has found someone to share his life with,” his mom speaks softly. It’s the first time she’s been thoughtful and quiet. She’s a woman who’s larger than life, you’ve found, so the softness in her tone strikes a chord. “You’re absolutely perfect for him. I’ve never seen him happier.”

 Fuck. 

 “Thank you,” you murmur sincerely to his mother. “I’ve never been happier.”

 Namjoon peers up from where he’s been pushing around his uncle’s famous chocolate cake on his plate to watch as you speak.

 “Truthfully, I never cared much for Christmas. I thought it was a rubbish holiday and spent it alone every year with a bottle of wine and some takeout. Namjoon really changed that for me,” you smile at the man and place your hand in his lap to hold his free hand. “He showed me more about Christmas in one week than I’ve felt in my entire life.”

 Namjoon’s mom wipes away an errant tear and he squeezes your hand under the table.

 “I guess the Grinch’s heart has grown 3 sizes, after all.”

 Namjoon’s joke lightens the soft mood, and suddenly there’s chatter around as the family members move about to wash dishes and clean up the mess of dinner. Everyone leaves the table except for you and Namjoon.

 “That was some good acting,” he whispers with a sad smile.

 “Right,” you whisper back, nibbling your lip anxiously. “Acting, of course.”

  You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.

 Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.

 And sharing a bed is another.

 And of course, the only pajamas you thought to bring tonight is a very sexy long shirt that says “no coffee, no talking” with a bedazzled pair of shushing lips. That’s it. Just a single shirt. Not even a pair of shorts or pajama pants.

 You slip into the bed first, as far onto one side of it as possible. It’s a king sized bed, and it still feels too intimate, too close.

 Namjoon exits the bathroom after his shower, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of flannel pajamas, leaving his bare chest on display.

 Sweet lord in heaven, you nearly cry out loud. He’s absolutely ripped, pecs defined and droplets of water from his hair streaming down. You want to chase each drop with your tongue and circle back again. You shut your eyes tight and clench your teeth. Why, oh why, does he have to look so fucking sexy at a time like this?

 Namjoon sees you at the edge of the bed, shutting your eyes closed like you’re a shy schoolgirl afraid to see a naked man’s body. He feels guilty for making you be here. He knows you’ve likely got better things to do than spend time with a man you openly hate.

 “I’m sorry,” he apologizes for nothing in particular. 

 You ignore it. Instead, you’re trying to think of every un-sexy thing in the world you can possibly imagine. Taxes, a bunch of bees, old people, shark attacks.

 There’s absolutely nothing that can stop the image of Namjoon’s perfectly sculpted body from bursting into your mind. You’re nearly pleading with yourself to just go to sleep and contemplate how hard you’d need to hit your head to knock yourself out as fast as possible.

 “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says as he grabs a small throw blanket from the closet and throws it to the ground by the fire.

 It snaps you from your musings of how best to forget how badly you want to suck Namjoon’s cock through his pajama pants.

 “What?” You sit up in the posh bed and finally make eye-contact. “Why? It’s freezing. There’s a literal snowstorm outside.” You motion to the window of the balcony. What was once a gentle snowfall is now a full-on winter storm.

 “There’s a fire. I’ll be fine, I sleep hot anyway.” Namjoon’s voice is low and without energy. He almost sounds sad.

 God, is being with you that hard for him? You know you’re just the artificial replacement until he has the real thing, but you’d actually hoped Namjoon had found it as comforting and warm as you had.

 “Namjoon,” you sigh. “This is a king-sized bed. You don’t need to be waking up with back pain because you gallantly slept on the floor.”

 To emphasize your point, you tug back the blankets on the other side, beckoning him to join.

 He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s weighing the pro’s and con’s and sliding into bed next to you in his mind, then stands and pads his way on the plush carpet towards the bed and slips in.

 There’s an entire football field of distance between you two in the bed, but it feels like he’s right beside you. You imagine sliding in right next to him, wrapping your arms around his taut chest and pressing soft kisses to his stomach.

 You squeeze your eyes closed again. Stop it, you horny slut.

 “Thank you, again.” Namjoon breaks the silence. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”

 “Yeah,” you swallow hard. “Of course. What else was I going to do? Jimin’s probably sucking Yoongi’s dick right now, so I’d be watching baking shows alone.”

 Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.

 “You know, I don’t even really want that promotion at work.”

 You’re surprised by the sudden change in topic, but you turn over to face Namjoon.

“What?! Really?”

 Namjoon nods and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m that good of an attorney to get it, anyway.”

 His statement makes you sit up in bed again, staring at the man in disbelief.

 “Are you fucking kidding me, Namjoon? You’re the best lawyer in the firm.”

 Namjoon says nothing, just turns to stare at you curiously as you continue.

 “You’re like… literally better than Seokjin, too. The way you handled the Taehyung case was nothing short of historical. Like, that was an impossible case, and you nailed it. That was your ‘OJ’ case, you know?”

 Namjoon barks a laugh.

 “My what?”

 “Your OJ case!” You use your hands to emphasize the importance of what you’re saying. “Like, they’ll write about you and how impossible the odds were of winning that case. And you won it! Not even Seokjin could have won that case.”

 He’s silent again, watching as you speak directly from your heart with all the fire and passion you feel about the things you care about. It’s what makes you such an incredible lawyer, too.

 “Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

 You settle back down from your excitement, suddenly bashful at how fanatical you became.  

 “You’re welcome,” you murmur. “You deserve that promotion. And the office.”

 Namjoon smirks.

 “And the Nespresso?”

 Your eyes narrow and send a glare to him he can see even with the faintest of light in the room.

 “No, no one deserves the Nespresso, except for me.”

 He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.

 “Goodnight,” he whispers.

 “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

 There’s a beat of silence and your eyes flutter shut easily. It’s quiet, and all you can hear is the crackle of the log in the fireplace and the wind blowing past the balcony windows as the storm outside rages.

 “Oh,” Namjoon whispers again. “And, Merry Christmas.”

 You can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.

 “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

  “Happy Christmas!” A voice bellows through your bedroom at approximately seven fifteen am.

 You groan, immediately grimacing and burying your face into your firm, warm pillow.

 “Nooooo,” you whine, trying to hide from the offending noise.

 Namjoon shakes awake, and notices Jungkook standing at the bedroom door once again.

“It’s time for presents!” He giddily explains. “And, they gave me the job of waking you two up.”

 “Of course,” Namjoon yawns.

 “You look a little wrapped up,” Jungkook smirks, eyeing your sleeping body. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t get distracted.”

 Namjoon rolls his eyes and watches as the door closes, before he turns his attention towards you.

 Somehow, in the middle of the night, you’ve scooched yourself to his side of the bed and draped your body around his. Your face is buried in his chest and your legs are haphazardly intertwined in his own.

 He bites his lip. His cock is rock solid, not just from his usual morning wood, but from the way he can feel your tits through your shirt, and from the sight of your pink panties. Namjoon wants to take them off with his teeth and bury his face in your delicious cunt, and his cock is nearly screaming at him to get on with it.

 “Hey,” he whispers to you, actively ignoring the demon that is his turgid length. “Wake up.”

 This causes you to cling harder to his chest, rubbing your sleepy face on him.

 “What is it with you and early mornings?” You ask, blearily raising your head to peer at him judgementally.

 Namjoon bites his lip, curious about your reaction to the tight embrace you’ve got on him. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to break the spell. Frankly, he wants to push your sleep shirt up and stuff you full of his cum.

 “Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.

 You take a full minute to recognize what’s happening.

 You’re no longer on your edge of the bed. You’re wrapped around the man like a koala, legs strewn over him without care and clinging to him like he’s a lifeline.

 “Oh!” You gasp as you jerk out of his grasp. 

 In your movement, your leg brushes over an obvious tent in Namjoon’s pants, making him groan softly. You shut your eyes, embarrassed at how disgustingly horny you are for the man who’s not even interested in you sexually.

 “Christ, I’m so sorry,” your cheeks flame bright red and you scoot further from him.

 “No, no, don’t be,” Namjoon wheezes as he tries to fix himself. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s great. It happens. Don’t worry.”

 He continues to stammer out reassurances as he leaves the bed and bolts into the bathroom to fix his unruly tented pants, leaving you sitting atop the bed washed with shame.

 “Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you rub at your cheeks. “Get a grip of yourself.”

 Inside the bathroom, it only takes Namjoon a few fisted jerks of his cock and the mental image of you beneath him, begging for him, until he’s silently cumming on an expensive towel. He bites his free hand to stifle the moans he makes as his cock pulses.

 By the time he arrives back in the bedroom, you’ve changed into a hoodie and yoga leggings that accentuate your ass so delectably that Namjoon thinks about turning right back into the bathroom for a second round.

 “I’m sorry!” You nearly shout when he walks into the room. “About the bed. You were warm and I was cold. That’s all.”

 Nmajoon simply nods, doesn’t want to have to explain how he wishes he could wake up like that every day. Doesn’t want to describe in vivid detail how he’d wake you up with his tongue buried deep in your cunt.

 “Let me grab a shirt and we’ll head out, yeah?”

 Your eyes dance over the defined ridges of his body, a little crest-fallen at the idea that this might be the last time you see him shirtless, but you nod anyway.

 “Yeah.”

The ring box sits in a deceptively large box beneath the tree. Namjoon wrapped it last night and hide it at the very back. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as his family passes around gifts and opens each with squeals of delight.

 His mother gave him new ties for the office, ones that Namjoon prefers. She’s even gifted you with jewelry, which makes your eyes water at the sentiment.

 It all begins to be too much. It’s harder and harder to hold back the tears as each of Namjoon’s family members gives you gifts. It doesn’t matter the value, not at all. The fact that they specifically set out to include you in their gift-unwrapping makes your heart snap in two.

 This is all too much, it’s too real.

 It’s everything you never dreamed you could have. A loving partner who lets you sit in the space of his legs and rubs your arms soothingly. A family who goes out of their way to include you in the abundance of love and company. A cabin so warm and cozy.

 The tears don’t stop.

 It’s at the end of the gift exchange that you finally allow yourself to breathe. 

 “There’s one more,” Namjoon whispers as he moves from behind you and fetches a large box from behind the tree. “It’s for you, princess.”

 Curiously, and suspiciously, you eye him as he sets the enormous gift in your lap. You had done nearly all his Christmas shopping with him, and can’t remember a single thing he would have gotten for you.

 “I hope it’s the Nespresso from your office,” you snark with a smile. His family members all laugh and exchange knowing looks to each other.

 Namjoon doesn’t think he can breathe. He watches as you begin to carefully unwrap the large box, which reveals another box, slightly smaller. He can’t help but grin as you continue to unwrap the nesting-doll style gift until you’re down to the smallest one, the one that holds the ring box.

 With one last tear of paper, your eyes widen as you recognize the velvet box.

 “Oh--,” you breathe as you delicately pry open the gift.

 Inside sits a dazzling and gorgeous diamond ring. It catches the light from the fire and sparkles like a firecracker.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper as the tears flow again.

 He’s proposing.

 Namjoon settles himself onto one knee and tucks an errant piece of hair behind your ears.

 “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew from day one that you were always the girl I wanted to marry,”

 Namjoon’s speech sends daggers to your heart. He’s so convincing for something so counterfeit. 

 “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, much longer than we’ve been together. You’re who I want to come home to every night, and who I want to wake up with every morning.”

 It hurts. It hurts so badly that you’re crying even harder as he continues to speak. His family must think you’re simply overcome with emotion and love that the crying doesn’t give it away, but inside you’re absolutely dying.

 There’s no way you can recover from this.

 Tomorrow, Namjoon will take the ring back to where he got it from and return to what he had before. He’ll leave you behind, broken and hopelessly in love with a man who faked a relationship so well that you fell for it, hard.

 “____, will you marry me?”

 You take several large, gulping gasps to reply. You can’t shatter the illusion. Namjoon’s parents are weeping with joy, while his relatives record the moment on their phones and wipe away errant tears. Even Jungkook looks soft, proud of his cousin for taking the next step in his life.

 Oh, how you wish this were all real.

 “Yes,” you lie with a smile. “Yes, Namjoon, of course!”

 Namjoon grins and pulls you to standing, gathering you in his arms as he hugs you tight. His family cheers and hollers in the background, and you sob into his shoulder as you cling to him.

 He easily slides the diamond ring out of the box and onto your finger, where it sits and taunts you. The weight is heavy, and you whimper at the realization that this will never be for you. It will sit atop a pretty model’s finger sometime soon, when Namjoon resumes his regular life.

 “Oh, my darlings, I am so happy for you!” Namjoon’s mother appears and wraps you both in a hug, weeping and kissing cheeks. “We must discuss planning!”

 It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The tears and weeping turn to wracking sobs, which quiets the family as they watch you hold your face in your hands.

 “I’m sorry,” you apologize through your grief. “I—I just need a moment.”

 Without another word, you turn from the scene and bolt back towards the bedroom.

 It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks. 

 This must be too much for you, too much for you to pretend to love him. He knew it was too much and he should have discussed it with you beforehand.

 “She’s just a little err--,” Namjoon tries. “Easily emotional. I’ll go check on her.”

 His family understands as Namjoon hurries towards the bedroom and gently opens the door.

 You’re sitting over your overnight bag, trying to shove any clothing into it you can, while you sob openly.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have told you. I sort of... told my mom I’d be proposing to my girlfriend.”

 There’s pain in your eyes as you snap your head up to look at him. It nearly destroys him.

 “You should have warned me!” You gasp. “Namjoon, I can’t do this.”

 Namjoon lowers his head and shoves his hands into his pockets of his pajama pants.

 “I get it. I know you want to go back to your regular life. I can take you home now.”

 You’re silent for a moment, standing and moving towards the man.

 “Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”

 He raises his head to look at you curiously, brow knitted together with confusion.

 “I’m in love with you, you asshole!” You cry, pushing at his chest. “I can’t continue to pretend this is real anymore. I love you, I absolutely love you and I can’t go on watching you pretend you love me too. It’s too much for me to handle.”

 Namjoon’s world freezes in time as he watches you slide the ring off your finger. He grasps your hand to stop you, his eyes boring into your own.

 “I never had to pretend.”

 Before you can speak, Namjoon cups your cheek and pulls you in close, mouth sealing over your own in a desperate kiss.

 You don’t fight it, not at all. You sink into his grasp and kiss him back with fervor, with all the pent-up emotions you’ve held back all this time.

 “I’m in love with you,” he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss. “I meant every single word I said.”

 More tears stream down your cheeks, and Namjoon is quick to wipe them away with his thumb.

 “I know it’s maybe too soon for us to really be engaged, but I—I want that, with you,” he adds. “I want you to be my girlfriend… for real.”

 “Are you being serious right now?” You ask as your hands cling to Namjoon’s waist.

 He can’t help but to laugh, nodding in reassurance as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

 “Never been more serious in my life.”

 “I can’t believe you’re mine,” Joon murmurs into the nape of your neck.

 You were supposed to be driving home to your apartment now, back to real life, but the snowstorm raged on and Namjoon decided it might be best to spend yet another night in the cabin. Together. As a couple. A real couple.

 You didn’t put up much of a fight.

 He’s pressing soft kisses into your tender skin as he closes the door to the bedroom.

  “All mine, all mine.” He chants it like a mantra. 

 You’re trying to maneuver your way into the dark bedroom, only guided by the light from the fireplace. Namjoon stops you and pulls away from your neck, eyes soaking in every inch of you.

 “You have no idea what I’ve been dying to do to you,” he speaks after a moment of appreciating your beauty.

 “Hmm, I think I have some idea,” you say, a finger at Namjoon’s chest, directing him towards the bed. “I’ve been dying to suck your cock, Joon,” you whisper in his ear as he makes his way backwards. “Will you let me?”

 Namjoon nods in a daze as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you kneel. Your eyes are full of hope, full of lust. It makes his cock harden further.

 “Please do,” he breathes. “I’ve wondered what you’d look like with your mouth full of my dick.”

 You smile as you tug at his flannel pajama pants, pulling them down thick thighs and calves until they’re completely off. Your mouth waters at the sight before you. Namjoon’s cock is thick, head weeping with pre-cum and straining hard against his taut chest. He’s been working out more, you can tell. His arms are full and strong, and his chest is so firm and defined. 

 He’s an entire three-course meal.

 Before you move closer to his cock, Namjoon stops you.

 “Take your shirt off.”

 You comply easily, already settling well into an obedient role. He discards the shirt to the side and marvels at your breasts. He can’t wait to mark them up, suck them until you’re crying.

 “Perfect,” he sighs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

 He allows you to resume your work, eyeing the length of his cock before wrapping a hand around it and gently pumping.

 “Shit,” he breathes as his head falls back. “I’ve dreamt about how it’d feel having my cock in your hands.”

 “What else have you dreamed about?” You ask with a teasing smile, bringing your lips to the tip to paint tiny stripes. He tastes salty, somewhat earthy, and the pre-cum that’s gathered at the top gets swept up by your tongue. 

 Namjoon can’t believe how lucky he is. Can’t believe how incredible it feels to have you here, licking at his cock like a lollipop. He’s enchanted by the way your delicate tongue swirls around his head, testing and teasing.

 “You look so good, princess,” he whispers as he tucks stray hair behind your ears. 

 You’re encouraged by his sweet-talk and soon descend to take his cock fully in as far as you can go. You’re definitely out of practice, but you steel yourself up to take him completely to the back of your throat. Namjoon’s desperate moans and cursing only encourages you further.

 Soon enough, you’ve started a rhythm of bobbing your head and swirling your tongue and pumping your hand down his thick length. The noises leaving your mouth are sinful—slurping and sucking and whining around him. Namjoon’s got a hand on the back of your head, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail and coaxing your bouncing head further down his cock.

 “Oh, shit, baby,” he grits through a tight jaw. “I’m gonna cum baby girl, fuuuuckkk—oh god, yes baby, just like that.”

 You slurp and swallow around his cock as much as you can, head bobbing at a frantic pace while you cast your eyes upwards to the man to watch him come apart. He meets your eye contact and loses it at the fire burning in your beautiful eyes.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps as his cock pulses. “Cumming, baby—ohhhh, shit, take it all, baby.”

 After slowing your pace completely, you sweetly moan around his length as his salty cum splatters on your tongue. Bringing Namjoon to climax with your mouth is already one of your favorite hobbies, and you’re desperate to do it again.

 When he’s completely spent in your mouth, you pop off carefully and present your tongue to your boyfriend, who smiles.

 “You gonna swallow my cum, baby girl?” He asks, cupping your cheek sweetly.

 You nod in reply, and he groans as he watches you close your mouth and visibly swallow his load.

 “Fuck, that was so hot. Fucking kiss me already,” he demands, pulling you up gently by the hand and pressing his mouth to yours. He doesn’t care if he can taste himself still lingering in your mouth. In fact, he thinks your mouth should always taste like him.

 Namjoon holds you close as he kisses you, tongue diving around and seeking purchase in your mouth. His hands are roaming your body, cupping your breasts and caressing your curves. He can’t get enough. He doesn’t think there will come a time in his life when he won’t love touching you.

 His hand smoothes over the satin of your panties and he smirks into the kiss as he feels how wet they are.

 “Oh my,” he tuts as he rubs at your clothed slit. “All this from sucking my cock, princess?”

 It’s too late to be ashamed of it. You simply nod and whimper as his thick fingers rub at your core. You’re dying to feel those fingers inside you, scissoring you open to prepare you for his massive cock.

 “P-please,” you gasp, needing more of him. “Please, Joon.”

 He lets out a breath of contentment, loving the way his name sounds in your breathy moans. In one quick swoop, he flings your panties off and onto the floor and slides down to his knees where you knelt moments before.

 “I want to see this pretty pussy up close,” he murmurs as he lays you out at the edge and spreads open your thighs as wide as he can. 

 You’re gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering. He licks his lips as he watches your folds drip with arousal and takes a delicate finger to trace the slit gently.

 “Fuck,” you gasp as he swirls his finger around your sensitive clit. It’s been so long since someone else has made you orgasm, you’re sure you won’t last a second with the man of your sexual dreams face-first in your cunt.

 “This is my pussy now,” he states as he leans in close and licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. “I’m going to make you cum every fucking night, baby. Gonna claim this cunt as my own.”

 You’re trembling from his words and his actions as he soon buries his face into your pussy and eats as if he’s a man starved. His tongue swirls around your hole before swiping up to your clit, making your back arch and keen off the bed. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit and sucks gently, lewd noises echoing off the walls of the bedroom.

 “Namjoon!” You squeal as he slides two of his fingers inside you and slowly pumps. They’re thick and perfect, and they’re better than you could have ever dreamed.

 “Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes as he licks at your clit. “I know you want to.”

 He’s right. You’re desperate for it and the string inside your belly that tightens with each thrust of his solid fingers has it nearing a snapping point.

 Namjoon speeds up, adds a third finger and fucks into you like a man on a mission. He watches your face pinch in agonized delight and is hypnotized by the way your tits bounce with each thrust up. His cock is rock solid again, aching to bury itself deep inside your womb and coat you with his cum.

 “That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes as he watches your body quiver. “Cum on my fingers, let daddy see you fall apart.”

 He presses his lips to your clit one last time and sucks, and it sends you reeling over the edge into bliss. Namjoon moans as he feels your cunt convulse and squeeze his fingers as if they’re his cock, and he nearly whines at how good it’s going to feel when he’s balls deep inside of you.

 “Fuck!” You cry as your back lifts off the bed and your legs shake. “Oh, my god!”

 Namjoon kitten licks at your pussy as you come down, cleaning up the juices that coat his fingers. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he does it, sucking up your essence like it’s an expensive wine he won’t waste a drop of.

 “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as you try to catch your breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you in my office.”

 The smile on your face turns lustful as you spread your legs open once again and present yourself to him.

 “Why don’t we practice right now?”

 Namjoon grips the base of his cock and gives himself a few pumps as he stares at your gorgeous body—laid out and ready for him.

 “Merry Christmas to me,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your lips and lines himself up.

 In one swift motion, he slips inside your juicy channel and buries himself to the hilt. You’re so wet and warm and tight that Namjoon falters and groans out loud.

 “Holy shit,” he cries. “Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt in my life.”

 Namjoon filling you up to the brim is something you’ve only ever dreamt of, and now that it’s happening you feel intoxicated. He’s so thick inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could handle, and the burn is so sweet.

 “Fuck me, Joon,” you beg as he continues to still inside you. “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

 It’s the magic word for Namjoon and instantly he’s snapped back to feral, ready to claim you as his own. He grips your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, delighted by the squelching juicy sounds of your cunt as he takes you.

 “That’s right, baby girl, I’m your fucking daddy,” he grunts. “Take this fat cock for daddy.”

 Your legs quiver with each thrust and Namjoon sucks a nipple into his mouth, nibbling gently on the bud which makes your body thrum with electricity. He’s marking you, claiming you inside and out, you realize. You whine and keen for him to continue, and Namjoon growls as he doubles his pace. 

 He thrusts into you without abandon, desperately seeking his release that will have him spilling his cum anywhere he possibly can.

 “Mmm, look at my pretty princess,” he groans as he stares at your blissed-out face. “Taking daddy’s cock so good, being a perfect little slut.”

 His words make your eyes roll back into your head. You’d never had someone speak so nasty to you while being so kind and praise-worthy that you don’t think you can now ever live without it.

 “G-gonna cum, daddy!” you cry as you feel your body nearing the edge. “Please let me cum!”

 Namjoon gasps for air and drops a thumb to your clit to rub circles on the sensitive bundle.

 “Yes, baby girl, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock, princess.”

 Namjoon’s unrelenting pace and thumb handily stroking your clit brings you to the end, sending you screaming into orgasmic delight.

 Namjoon nearly weeps at how good your cunt feels convulsing around his cock, walls coaxing him and gripping him tight as if your pussy is begging for his own release. 

 “Cum inside me daddy, please,” you beg as you try to catch your breath. 

 Namjoon needs no more permission. He gasps as your channel tightens around him impossibly and sends him into his own release. He whimpers as his cock pulses with ferocity, loads of cum splattering your walls.

 He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours as you both try to catch your breath.

 “Holy shit,” you gasp as you feel yourself returning to Earth.

 Namjoon laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, before nodding.

 “Yeah,” is all he can manage.

 After a few shuddering breaths, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s naked body and hold him close, as close as you can.

 “If this is what Christmas is all about, sign me up.”

 Namjoon buries his face into your neck and kisses you sweetly, before lifting and giving you a playful smile.

 “I guess all Scrooge needed was a good fuck. Dickens got that part all wrong.”

Returning to work after the New Year was easier this year than it had ever been in your career.

 Namjoon was given the promotion. He told Seokjin he wanted to keep his corner office near you because he “likes the view”, and that he would give all his top cases to the best lawyer in the office—you.

 Jimin won’t stop screaming when he sees the diamond ring on your finger. You haven’t wanted to take it off since the moment you put it on. Maybe it’s not an engagement ring quite yet, maybe it’s just more of a promise. Either way, Jimin is ecstatic and confused as he shakes you down for answers.

 He walks with you to your desk, chattering away about his week with Yoongi, while you sip your convenience store coffee.

 “What the fuck?” Jimin asks as he notices something on your desk. “What is that?”

 As you round the corner, your eyes catch sight of a gleaming silver contraption on your desk, right next to your brand new computer.

 A Nespresso.

 A smile crosses your lips as you approach the expensive machine and notice a folded up card on top.

 Inside, the card is simple.

 “To the only girl in the world who deserves a Nespresso. Love, Namjoon.”

taglist - @ardoren​ @devilion14​ @bykookie​ @rageyoudamnednerd​ @holynamtiddies​ @thejooncrew​ @dee-ehn​ @yrc1963 @fireheart2003​

[sugrbugz]

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 ~ 𝙺𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘 𝚃𝚎𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚞 ♥︎

a business man kuroo x femboy!male reader concept!

TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS <3

ok females calm down i know everyone’s horny for kuroo, which is why i’ll be posting a female version of this too! i’m just a male who is indeed horny for kuroo soooo….i see u men

CW: heavy degradation..like HEAVY, oral, anal, pet play, bdsm, a little bit of somno (literally just touches your ass while ur sleeping that’s it), face fucking, dycraphilia, lotsa swearing hehe, hate fucking essentially.

was it his fault? not entirely. kuroo had been at the end of his rope before he even walked in the front door. having to deal with corporate executives who thought they were actually useful all day was a chore in itself.

kuroo loved his job, loved his company, loved the money even, but most importantly he loved you. he loved everything about you. he loved how you’d come running down the large staircase when he came home, ready to receive a plethora of hugs and kisses from you. you were the only part of today he was looking forward to.

so when he came home to an empty house, not one with the sounds of your music or your feet rushing down the hall to greet him. he was honestly disappointed. “baby?” he called out loud enough, looking around the main floor a bit before going upstairs. now the sight before him made his heart squeeze, you curled up in the blankets of the bed with your head buried into his pillow? he wanted to cry.

that’s when he noticed it, your clothes. kuroo is as bisexual as it gets, he’s quite literally the poster child. however, in your mlm relationship it was very apparent the type of boys he was into, femboys. with a slight gulp he pulled the blanket back just a bit, careful not to wake you. the large pink night shirt that cling to your body with the literal pair of panties nearly made him pass out.

“even when you’re sleeping you aim to please me..” he mumbled running his fingers down your back before cupping your ass cheek with one hand. no movement from you yet. you two had talks about kinks before, it wasn’t uncharted territory and sure enough he remembered what he was doing right now was okay, you’d given him consent multiple times to do it but even then he still wanted fresh consent. maybe you fell asleep because you weren’t feeling good or were having a bad day and needed to sleep it off.

he lightly shook you, “hun..” he whispered leaning down to kiss your cheek softly. smiling when you whined softly. “you okay babe..? anything wrong?” he asked softly. you opened one eye, making him smile wide. “mhm…’m okay” you mumbled sitting up slightly, your shirt falling off your shoulder slightly. “that’s good..now…i have a favour to ask, kitten”

after the petname you knew what that favour was going to be. “anything for you.” you smiled softly, shifting your position so you were sitting on your knees in front of him. you knew what came next and so did he.

“sucha good boy” he praised softly, hands finding the collar around your throat. “you didn’t take it off since last night? that’s cute..maybe i’ll get you something similar that you can wear in public?” he hummed.

you knew better than to speak unless he was genuinely asking you a question but you still gave him a gently nod to show your interest.

“what a good pet…to be completely honest with you, i’ve had a terrible fucking day. you know how i get when i’m not having a good day don’t you angel?” he asked, a hint of cockiness to his tone.

“i’ll be back. by the time i am you know what i expect to see.” with that he kissed your forehead and left the room. you didn’t want to test him today, sometimes you’d be a brat but today was not that day.

you quickly stripped down, clothes folded neatly placed on the side table so they were accessible for aftercare. your hands found your lap, pressing your hands in between your legs to hide the inevitable boned that came with him using you like he wanted to. surely he wouldn’t know if you gave yourself a little attention right? it was just so hard to stop yourself..it would feel too good.

snaking one hand down you grab onto your own length, gently stroking it. you shiver a bit at the feeling, both your cold hand and the sexiness of know that if you’re caught kuroo would make your life a living hell for a couple of hours, was thrilling.

when you and kuroo started getting into bdsm he put rules in place, ones that you needed to follow in the bed and even in regular life. one of the big ones? always ask your master permission to play. it was almost like you could hear him saying it back in your head, the guilt was starting to set in but it was just too late. right as you went to stop your movements, the door opened again, leaving you and kuroo in a very long intense gaze.

“well..what do we have here love? is my good boy breaking the rules?” he simply walked over, tossing the lube among other things he brought to the side chair near the bed. “n-no i didn’t do anything!” you whined in protest.

kuroo slowly leaned down, hand gently cupping your face, “i don’t fucking believe you.” he whispered before bringing the hand on your cheek back a bit to give it a smack then quickly taking the stinging skin back in his hand. “one thing i hate more than a whore who doesn’t fucking listen is a liar.” he spits.

he could quite literally get off on the shocked expression on your face currently, “now let’s try this again. did you break a rule?” he asked, eyes literally begging you to try and lie again. “yes master..” you sighed in defeat, you knew the punishment would be bad.

“do you know what happens to naughty boys that don’t listen and lie? do you kitten?” he let go of your face now, walking over to some of the things he brought up to the room. “they get punished” you replied quickly, not wanting to give him any other reason to punish you harder. “they do…you’re so smart baby..” he came back over, shoving you flat down on your back before using a flogger over your pretty pink tip.

“if only you weren’t a needy dumb slut.” he laughed striking again. you were left there to just wiggle and take it, whines and gasps leaving your mouth like a gospel. “i just wanted to come home and have a good time with my pretty kitty..and of course your stupid cock had to ruin it.” he sighed, peering down at you slightly just to see if you were still okay but judging by your face you loved it.

“i can’t wait any fucking more. get on your hands and knees, and you better arch that fucking back” he grumbled leaning over to grab the lube. this is how you knew kuroo was stressed or upset. even if he was punishing you he always took his time giving you what you wanted but now it was straight to the point.

“god look at that beautiful ass..too bad it’s attached to a cumdump like you, it’s going to be fucking tortured today i promise you that much boy.” he hissed giving it a rough slap. you flinch forward from the sting, a loud whine leaving your mouth. that only makes him do it again, harder this time. so hard it’s already formed a raised little imprint of his hand.

with every smack you jolt forward causing your cock to rut against the blankets, there was just so many sensations at once that you couldn’t help it when you came untouched, load seeping out onto the bed.

you’re fucked.

“did you just fucking cum?” he laughs loudly, one more extremely hard slap coming down, basking in the way you scream and whine about being sensitive. “you’re fucking pathetic. is that all you need? the bare fucking minimum?” he cussed at you. “you better fucking apologize” he grunts out.

“i-i’m so sorry! ‘m sorry master i-i didn’t mean too! it just feels soo good!” you practically sobbed, babbling like an idiot about how much you love him and that you’ll do better. he loved breaking you like this but he knew it was also emotionally taxing. “what do i always tell you baby?” his voice was a bit softer now, wiping a stray tear that did slip from your eye.

“t-this is just for fun..you don’t mean anything you say” you sniffled looking up at him with those cute little eyes of yours. “that’s right. good boy” he praised, “colour??” he asked immediately after. “green” you smile giving him a little thumbs up.

with your confirmation kuroo quickly grabbed you by the small amount of hair you had, pressing your face against the tent in his pants. “good..then it’s only fair i get to cum too yeah?” he smirked, stroking your hair gently.

“yes sir you do..i promise i’ll do good for you!” you ramble quickly, tiny hands working on his dress pants buttons. he watched you with hooded lids, just admiring how quickly you were trying to please him. “maybe your punishment will end if you’re good enough, but remember kitty it won’t be easy” he smirked knowing exactly what he was going to do.

you didn’t reply, just gave him a tiny nod. if you had to work for it then you would. you pull his cock out of his pants, kitten licking at the top a few times before licking a long strip from his balls all the way back up to the tip. to say you had a oral fixation, especially when it came to kuroos cock, was an understatement.

“that’s it…g-good boy-fuck” he praised, hands roughly gripping at your hair. holding you in place when you tried to take most of his length into your mouth, what didn’t fit your hands fumbled with. however kuroo was determined to make it fit.

kuroo roughly pulled your head down onto him, basking in the sound of you choking and gagging on his cock, “awh what’s the matter? bit off more than you can chew??” he smirked fucking your face with aggression, hips snapping up flush against your cheeks.

the tears that rolled down your cheeks made him unbelievably horny that he couldn’t stop himself, grunts and moans leaving him mouth while he used yours as a person fuck toy. you knew he was close when his perfect rhythm faltered a little and his grip on you was even tighter. to show him just how bad you wanted it, your hands found his balls, rolling and playing with them.

“goddd~you want this l-load so bad huh? hm? nggh! fuckk! you want it? yeah? fucking taking it stupid slut.” he sounded so unbelievably hot you can’t even help the bit of precum now leaking from your sensitive tip. soon after his statements you felt a warm sensation flooding down your throat, almost choking and coughing slightly since there was so much.

kuroo was still letting out loud moans of exctasy, ending with a soft hum he pulled his cock out of your mouth. the second you were freed you let out a gasp for air and a little bit of a cough but kuroo didn’t care. he grabbed your chin, opening your mouth with his other hand to make sure not even a drop of his cum went to waste. “good kitty..you took my cock so well…maybe you do need a reward?” he hummed, laughing deeply when you nodded quickly.

“face down ass up pretty boy.” he stated, having no problem jerking his still sensitive cock back up into a full erection. you did exactly as he asked before feeling a cold piece of metal against your back, you knew it well. the lead that attached to your collar. after it was clicked into place there were a few kisses up your back before you heard his raspy breath in your ear, “if you cum again without my permission this ass is going to be so fucking bruised and sore you won’t be sitting for months.” he whispered softly before biting the tip of your ear.

your breath caught in your throat but you nodded quickly, “yes sir..i’ll be so good i just really need to feel you..” you whine out, having to force your hips not to rut against the bed. “it’s cute when you’re so unbelievably pathetic for me” he smirked before gently rubbing the tip of his cock against your hole. “you’re clenching around nothing..so pretty..”

you choked out a tiny sob from just how needy you were, he always did this. he liked to break you down before even touching you, you loved it. “a stupid whore” he laughed loudly before giving you another harsh smack. with that he lubed his cock up, groaning a bit from how it felt.

with that he pushed inside, moaning when he bottomed out. he had this plan where he was going to make you cockwarm him for a bit just to tease you but the second he thought about all the stupid shit he had to deal with today? his hips snapped up and aggressively into you making you scream out but he wasn’t listening.

he was stuck in his own head, mentally cussing out everyone he worked with as he fucked all his anger out into his pretty kitty. “a-ah! da-mm! daaddyy!” you whine out nearly snapping him back to reality fully. “what? can’t handle it? is it too much for you?” he spat quickly, his pace not letting up. “everyone’s-nn-fuckin’ disappointing me today! i’m not taking it from you kitten.” he seethed, basking in the sound the bed made as it smacked off the wall.

“daddy! fuckk! ‘s soo goodd” he listened to the way you moaned out, his cock twitching so hard inside you that you could feel it. “yeah? you like it when i fuck your stupid boy pussy” he grinned knowing the way that made your heart skip a beat. “come on then, prove it. show me how much you love this fucking cock, stupid bitch” he smirked smacking your seriously irritated ass cheeks.

that sparked something inside of you, your hips throwing themselves back onto his cock. your moans so loud for him it sounded like screams. “p-please!” you managed to scream out between the loud babbling that left your mouth. “please what kitty?” he grunted, doing his best to focus on you and the squeezing your ass that was practically trying to milk him.

“plea-hhng! please c-cum daddy please!” you screamed, thank fuck he didn’t have neighbours. he smirked and shoved you down so your head was pressed again the mattress, holding your head there he let out a loud fucking moan before completely stilling. you could feel it shooting out in ropes, it felt so good that you came instantly and once again untouched.

“hmm that was cute~” he hummed almost immediately back to his normal self. “colour my love?” he asked gently rubbing your back, wondering if there was possibility to go again. “red” you murmur making him nod before slowly slipping out of you. “are you hurt? was it too much?” he pouted softly, gently rolling you onto your back to keep eye contact with you.

when you couldn’t reply he gently scooped you up and carried you into the bathroom, “it’s okay baby..kuroos got ya’”

[adamfoolcry]

i hate you, i love you (k.dy)

it's valentine's day and you try your hardest not to fall back in the arms of one kim doyoung - your former boss, recluse and closed off, your fuck buddy - whom you are completely in love with.

pairings: CEO!Doyoung x Fem!Reader, Johnny x Fem!Reader rating: 18+   genre: angst and smut  warnings: swearing, explicit sexual situations - hate sex, dirty talk wc: 3k+ prompt: 'i hate you' 

a/n: This is a part of Candy Hearts Collab hosted by @127-mile . Text in blockquote are text messages.Thank you for beta reading simmi(@sly-merlin ) and indi(@ncteaxhoe​). Not proofread excuse the mistakes please contact me if you would like to do so. Enjoy! - xo aria

Doyoung:

I don't know if you'll even read this but if you do, I want you to know that what we have for two years was not a game for me. Maybe we can't start being honest with each other. When you make up your mind you know where to reach me.

Mina really knows how to dress you up to the nines, you'll give her that.

"It's not bad," you nod at your reflection approvingly as you examine the dress you wrestled yourself in, clinging to your body in the right places effectively enhancing your silhouette. The soft silky texture of satin feels exquisite against your skin however you can’t exude the confidence the dress might have channeled you with. You don’t feel grand in fact you feel the opposite;

You want to cancel the date.

"Oh for christ's sake, ______. Maybe try to put some enthusiasm into this," Mina spun you around to face her, your back to the whole body mirror where a while ago you two were examining the outfit she picked up from the back of your closet - where dressier clothing of yours reside not seeing the light of the day unless for special occasions. 

Placing both her hands on your shoulders, "You were so excited when you called me to pick something to wear. What happened?" She further inquired.

You heave a sigh, "I don't know I am just not in a mood to go out on a date with a stranger," you admitted.

Mina pulls your eyes back to hers, gleaming with determination. "You are ______, an economics major who graduated on top of her class, who landed a new job as a senior financial analyst despite being in the industry for only three years. Now repeat it," Mina orders you.

"What does it have to do with -" you rolled your eyes, and whined dramatically.

She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth in displeasure, "Go on say it"

"I am ______, graduated on the top of my class and landed a new position as a senior financial analyst despite my tenurity," you mumble in a low voice.

"Good," Mina coddled you as if you are an infant who uttered her first word, "now add I am young, smart, and men want me."

You open your mouth to protest but Mina only pinned you with a hard look and you know you will not be getting out of this until you do as she says.

"I am young, smart, and men want me." You did as she told you.

Begrudgingly you did feel a lot better.

This is the third step of banishing Kim Doyoung in your life entirely. 

First is to send a resignation letter - done. 

Second, secure a new employment - done.

Third is to pursue a romantic relationship.

"Now let's get you ready for your date." Mina pulled you to the present, squeezing your bare shoulders to comfort you.

"I know that what you did is really hard. The sudden big change and all but today's Valentine's day you need to have a little fun today."

"I know Mina, now do my makeup." You pulled her to where your vanity table is located as you paste a smile on your face in order to placate her worries.

--------

If people were to know why you are doing this they might have called you silly.

After graduating from university you were offered the position of financial analyst in his company - a small but budding start up in Tech. Never would you have expected to land a job in your chosen field straight out of college. You are doing what you have envisioned yourself doing: analysing the trends and forecasting sales of the company's cloud solutions. You are comfortable with your current living situation, not what you have imagined after your parents cut you off no longer sending you an allowance. You thought you'd be working your ass off to make ends meet. Thankfully, the pay was high enough for you to live in an apartment in the city, pay your bills in time, and afford luxuries you knew that most people your age wouldn't have the money for. 

Everything seems perfect right? A job that you genuinely love, good pay, living in the heart of the city but of course you just have to develop feelings for your boss: Kim Doyoung. And that complicates everything; enough for you to decide to completely start over again.

Kim Doyoung has managed to worm into every nook and cranny of your life.

Kim Doyoung is a magnetic man, of few words, stern straight brows, and wide shoulders swaddled in elegant suits. He runs the company based on data-driven decisions unafraid of taking risks that produces the highest profitable outcome. Working at his company where all ten workers directly reports and closely works with him, you and your colleagues have developed quite a personal relationship with him. It was not conventional per se but you guess this is how all start-ups operate with a slightly different work culture. Unlike big corporations there is no bureaucracy, filling for leaves can just be a phone call or a visit to his office.

As his only financial analyst almost never leaving his side. You'd like to think that Doyoung might have developed a soft spot for you, maybe not in a romantic sense but in a platonic friendly way. He values your opinion enough that he asks for your input in any pivotal decisions either in work or his personal life. Whether to facilitate the migration to cloud as external contractors of big corporations or to oversee the renovation of his penthouse. And in small things too honestly, after all he asked for your help to decide whether the decor should be a Bohemian vibe or modern minimalistic black and grey.

That was until you fucked after the in-office celebration of closing a big contract. One moment he is talking about the vase that serves as a centerpiece of his dining table that you helped him pick, the next he was pulling your arm leading you to a dimly lit room. 

Yes, you did drink but you were sober enough to protest if you didn't want it; who are you kidding? Of course you wanted it to happen. Not one word of objection was uttered as he pinned you to the wall with your legs circling his waist. Instead of protests what left your lips was series of moans and his name in breathless pleas that he had to stuff your mouth with his fingers or else your colleagues will hear the two of you having sex two rooms away from them.

Doyoung slipped out of you stepping back to let you down.Your stilettos made a clicking noise as it came in contact with the tiled floor that echoed in your eardrums; deafening. Coming back down to earth and from your high is also the moment when you realized the mess you put yourself into by fucking Doyoung - your boss - in a storage room.

You righted both your disheveled appearances - to look as normal as possible - in order to go back to the pantry where the celebration was still in full swing. The tense silence that wrapped the atmosphere makes you want to shrivel in shame, both of you were aware of the line that you have crossed. 

The unspoken words were hanging in the air -

It was a mistake. Let's forget this ever happened. - and you refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room, the stillness making you uncomfortable by the second.

"_______ -," Doyoung started.

"We don't have to talk about it Doyoung." 

You moved for the door, not looking back to peek at Doyoung's expression. You just wanted to get out of the dusty storage room, the stuffy air and Doyoung's proximity, suffocating you. 

You thought you were smart enough not to make the same mistake again but you seem to have a penchant for getting hurt because you did it again and again every chance you got. When the effects of orgasm are wearing off and you are left naked and vulnerable you always find yourself swearing that it will be the last time but you already knew you were lying.

You just can't get enough of Doyoung even though it hurts to pretend that each encounter was meaningless.

Sleeping with someone where you never knew where you stand at is excruciatingly painful. 

You can't be jealous when you hear about the new girl he's with because you have no right.

It is painful when Doyoung gives you some false hope. Visiting you almost everyday in your small office bearing lunch for the two of you. He often spends half of his day loitering in your space, perching himself on the corner of your desk pushing around the knick knacks around your desk while you are busy with work.

Only to dash it when he tells you about the latest girl he's seeing which would mean your ears would bear the brunt of his relationship woes until it falls apart only for the vicious cycle to repeat again when he found himself in another one of his flings.

Everyday as he asks for relationship advice you feel yourself getting worn out and the green eyed monster roaring it's head, you try your hardest to tamp it down with your rational thinking. 

What hurts the most is he started his series of flings a week after you hooked up, rubbing on your face that it means nothing to him at all.

So after countless hours, days, and months of anguish you started planning your escape.

--------

There are so many thoughts running through your head it starts with: Did I overdress? Is Johnny having a good time? 

Then drifts into completely unrelated manners.

Did I manage to say goodbye to all of my co-workers? Clear out my desk in my office? Surrender my elevator pass to the friendly security guard? Retrieve my favorite mug in the pantry? 

Will everything be ok? Will I excel at my new company? Will I fit in a big corporation?

Will I miss Doyoung?

Am I doing the right thing?

Johnny cleared his throat which broke your reverie, your eyes settling in his face but Johnny seems to find the table napkin worthy of his attention rather than maintaining eye-contact with you.

"I had fun today but I think -," You see Johnny hesitating to continue his sentence, linking and unlinking his fingers instead.

You get it and you can't blame Johnny for his lack of interest. You were barely with him today after the small talk had died down and the two of you had finished your meals. You didn't make an effort to get to know him, the conversation was one sided as you barely threw the questions back at him; replying in terse short sentences as if you would rather be anywhere but having dinner with him.

"Yeah me too but it's really nice to spend Valentine's with you though and getting all dolled up. Makes me forget I am single," You joked and flashed him a smile; relieved, Johnny finally met your eyes as his actions mirror yours curving his lips into a smile.

-------

You hailed a cab for a ride back to your apartment, settling in the backseat you instructed and gave the address to the driver as his radio blasted cheesy romantic songs in your ear, making you feel more disappointed with how bad your date with Johnny went.

As the cab speeds through the city, the citylights intermingle with each other creating a spectrum of colors that bounce back at the cab’s windows, the scenery of skyscrapers blurring past your eyes and your mind returns back to musing which you know is a dangerous territory because somehow your mind always returns back to him.

Doyoung

What exactly did you want to be with Doyoung?

You want him to like you? No, You want to mean something to him, to be the special person he runs to whenever he's devastated, to be the first person he calls when he's completely utterly bursting with joy. You want him to be completely aware of your presence that even just a mere mention of your name will evoke something in him, make his heart beat a little faster and cause some flush to bleed through his cheeks.

You want him to be endeared with your habitual tics - how you drum your fingers in every surface when you are in deep thought, a line maring your forehead between your brows and make his lips itch to kiss it. You want him to be captivated with your idiosyncrasies and find it charming, you want him to adore everything about you that made you, distinctly you.

You want him to want you.

Your phone vibrated and interrupted your stupor and upon seeing Doyoung’s name attached to the notification. Your fingers quickly unlocked your phone, fingers ringing from an adrenaline rush just from the sight of his name.

Doyoung:

Come over?

And just like that you inform your cab driver to make a detour and drive to Doyoung’s instead.

Doyoung opened the gigantic door of his penthouse where he found you on the other side of the door, shifting your weight from foot to foot, nervous to be in the same perimeter as him. When the gap was big enough to see you his eyes roved over to your body and noted that you were dressed up nicely for a date. His eyes then turned into slits as he glared at you.

“Have fun with your date?” He questioned and you can see his jaw set - the muscles clenching tight.

You didn’t answer, you don’t want him to know the pathetic evening you spent with Johnny as your mind drifts to thoughts of him; instead of actively participating with Johnny’s effort of back and forth.

As if knowing that you wouldn’t answer, his arms went to grab your forearms pulling you inside and leading you to the stairs up his loft where his bed is, you followed meekly behind him. Reaching his loft you look around and try to commit to memory the layout of the room; promising yourself that this will be the last time you will set foot in this room.

Doyoung attached his lips to your neck which drew a soft moan from you, spurred by your sounds he continued to ravish your neck oscillating between harshly sucking and peppering soft kisses on the expanse of the skin of your neck. His hands running at your sides smoothly and gradually getting closer to the underside of your breasts with each pass, when he finally cupped your mounds you arch in his palms further pushing yourself closer to him, greedy for his attention from all the teasing that he has done.

When he spoke again it fanned over the nape of your neck making your skin tingle from the warmth, “Why can’t you understand that I am the only one who can make you feel this way.” 

You can smell the residue of whisky on his breath and you wanted to taste it on your tongue even though from all the times you have slept with him you two have never kissed. You have drawn the line there for kissing is much more intimate than slapping bodies againsts each other for satisfaction. Kissing can be done without sexual notions but a simple act between couples and it is a glaring truth that you two were not.

You found yourself naked and sprawled on his queen size bed where you have lain your back many times but never spent a night in. Even the off white color of his ceiling is familiar to you as if mocking you for all the times you said you wouldn’t see it again. As he slips your dress down your body, your eyes water and it pooled in your eyes ready to spill over. ‘This is the last time,’ you tell yourself again, 'this is the last time that I will be Doyoung’s beck and call.' When he was finished trailing his lips down and also discarding his clothes at the other side of the bed you managed to swipe the tears that gathered in your eyes and look at him.

Towering over you he was a sight to behold and you trace the line of his body with your eyes, caressing the dips on his collarbones and the line that leads down to his cock as his face coil into a smirk smug with the knowledge that he can turn you into a whimpering mess.

“What do you want?” He asked while splaying his hands on your stomach, his thumb drawing circles on your clit which made your moans even louder and your pussy clench on nothing. You hate that he was the only one who can make you feel this way, reducing you into a pleading mess as you move your hips to the rhythm that he has set. 

You don’t have to tell him your guttural whines already told him what you wanted and he obliged inserting his length into you slowly, while you gripped his sheets until your knuckles turned white. You loved the way he filled you and the burn that accompanies when he stretched your clamping muscles on him.

So you let all your reasoning go because Doyoung’s cock pumping inside you felt good, too good. 

He knows your body like an instrument, putting the right pressure and hitting the spots that makes you throw your head back repeatedly. You can feel the falter in his quick thrusts and knows that he is near his end. Doyoung makes this one sound at the back of his throat when he orgasms … and you follow suit too as he falls apart.

It took a few seconds for him to untangle his legs and arms from your figure and it took you a couple of minutes of staring at the walls, waiting until you felt your legs can support you before you stood up and searched for your dress and undergarments. You can hear the rustle of the sheets as Doyoung sits on his bed watching your back as you slip on your panties and pull your dress back in its place.

“So tell me why did you leave the company?” Doyoung asked, his voice ringing loudly in your ears.

“I told you already I want to work in a big company,” You try to answer nonchalantly.

“Really? Or does it have something to do with me?

“Oh for fuck’s sake Doyoung. The world doesn’t revolve around you!” You shouted at him as you turned around to face him. Your ire rising as you see the cold stoic look on his face - unaffected by your outburst.

“Then why does it feel like you are running away from me?” He stood up from the bed and warily approached you as if you will lash at him any moment.

“I hate you,” (I love you) you whispered under your breath the words not meant from his ears but he heard it anyway. Disbelief painted his features he cannot grasp the reason why you are suddenly acting like this.

He reached out to touch your arm but you swerved his hand like a hurt animal nursing a wound and Doyoung then noticed your bloodshot eyes and defensive stance.

“Don’t touch me. Whatever destructive thing this is Doyoung, I am done. We’re done,” You stated bluntly your voice devoid of emotions a complete contrast with how you hugged yourself tightly with your arms.

“You don’t mean that,” Doyoung said adamantly as color drained from his face, making his pale complexion - paper white. 

“You can’t just walk away,” He added more to convince himself than you because he can see that hard look in your eyes - already set in the decision of walking away from him.

“Watch me Doyoung,” your lips curved into a cruel bitter smile. 

You leave him with those words as he watches your retreating figure until it completely disappears from his line of vision. 

--------

That night when you received a text from Doyoung, you never bothered to open it, opting to delete it and completely block all communications with him. You need to move on and in order to do it you need to sever all ties that might delude you to come back in his arms again.

You need to escape from Kim Doyoung for it's been due too long.

a/n: Read more of my works for NCT here:masterlist

[blewink]

heated // kth

warnings: dom!taehyung, sub!reader, fingering, daddy kink, cum play?, you get the jist

word count: 3.1k 

a/n: hi its been a while ! i hope you’re all still here, schools a bitch but i still love writing :) send in a request if you’d like :p also let me know if you’d like a part two bc i have many ideas

-blue

You always hated mock debates because your professor would always place you against your biggest competition, Kim Taehyung. Even though you two were on the same team, you both were top of your class since middle school and always trying to be better than each other. And oh so lucky for you, you were now at the same college and both on the debate team. 

“Ms. Y/N”- your thoughts were interrupted by your professor, who was sitting in the first row of seats in the empty auditorium. “You and Taehyung to the podiums please. Your first topic is global warming and how it affects the younger generation.” You were confident in yourself and usually you never doubted your senses. As you walked up to the podium, a chill ran up your spine, it was abnormally cold in the auditorium and the short uniform didn’t help you at all. 

The bright lights filled the stage, providing the slightest bit of warmth. You looked to the  other podium, seeing Taehyung already looking back at you, you scoff and roll your eyes, looking back down at your paper which you had already begun writing notes on. “Do either of you need more time to prepare?” Your professor asks, you both shake your heads in response, “Okay Taehyung you may begin.” You gulp, sure you were good but so was Taehyung, and his handsome face didn’t help you either- wait what?

“Global warming is an ever growing issue that impacts the entire world, but more so for the incoming generation, as they are the ones who will be needing to tend to the dirty world that the older generation left behind.” God he’s good. He continues, 

“The younger generation now has to clean the mess this older generation has left behind-” 

“My opponent here is simply restating what he just said, so I’ll take it upon myself to continue. This younger generation essentially has no more childhood because they now have to come up with ways to make sure they have a livable future,” You take a short look at your notes, “A great factor causing global warming is carbon dioxide emission. We now see more of the younger generation taking this into consideration and we see more of them riding a bike or walking to places rather than using a car.” 

While speaking, you can feel Taehyung's eyes burning into your body, making your cheeks heat up. You glance at him and he’s biting his lip, making you quickly look forward to your professor. He always did this, trying to make you flustered and make you trip on your words. It worked the first couple times but you eventually became accustomed to it, this time being no different. 

A couple minutes passed and the debate went smoothly, however it took a heated turn at some point and you two were practically at each other's throats. This topic was something you were very passionate about, as it was the whole reason you were going to school for. So when he mentioned that big corporations' emissions levels didn't have a real impact on global warming, you were quick to fire back at him. 

You completely ignored everyone's looks at you as you were eager to make sure Taehyung knew he was in the wrong. You were quickly interrupted by your professor, “Y/N that's enough, your point was proven. Please take the rest of the hour to calm down in the rest area in the back room.” He points behind you and you quickly apologize and make your way behind the curtains and into the back hallway.

You hear some mumbling behind you and footsteps following yours. You turn and of course, it’s Taehyung. “Hey y/n, you good?” You take a deep breath before answering him, “Yeah I’m good, just what you said wasn’t right.” You finally make it to the back room and lay across one of the couches in the room. You hear him sit on the couch just across from yours. “How could I be wrong though? I did my research and it said that big companies don’t contribute as much CO2 emissions as common people.” Is he really still on this? You were getting pissed off, “Did you really come in here just to piss me off more?” 

You sit upright to face him, he has a smug look on his face, meaning he was up to no good. “Baby, you have got to loosen up, you’re too cute when you’re all flustered.” He gets up and walks to the door and locks it before walking back over to the bookcase. Your cheeks flush at the pet name, “You’re not doing this to me again,” You get up and walk over to him, “You’re not gonna pretend to flirt with me just to distract me from the debates.” 

His fingers trace the book spines, making you wet you panties a bit, fuck you and your stupid hand kink. He hums, “Well, for one, the debate is over and there's nothing to distract you from. And second,” He pauses and faces you. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you close to him, your faces are meer centimeters away now, “Who said I was pretending?” Your eyes are wide and you can’t believe a word he says. You back away from him, laughing, “You’re kidding right? Alright who set you up to this?” 

He laughs at your response, his voice dips lower than usual, “You are so oblivious, aren't you baby?” The pet name and his deep voice make your knees feel weak and you let out a small whimper. You quickly cover your mouth and pray that he didn’t hear that. His movement freezes and you look over at him, he laughs again, “Did you like that? Hmm?” His eyebrow cocks up, but you stay in place and quiet. 

He walks toward you and you step backwards until you feel a table hit your lower back. He presses his whole body against yours and brings his lips to your ears, “I asked if you liked what I said, I’m gonna need a response from you.” You nod but it seems to not be enough for him, he grabs the backs of your thighs and pulls you up and places you on top of the table. His hand reaches for your chin and he forces your eyes to meet his, “I need you to say yes or no, do you understand pup?” The new name makes your knees impulsive close but his body between your legs blocks them. “Yes.”

“You need to tell me if you want to stop because if you don’t, I won’t. Do you understand me?” You quickly reply ‘ yes.’ His lips dive into yours, his saliva tastes sweet and his tongue deepens the kiss. His hands quickly untuck your dress shirt and he carefully unbuttons it, his hands travel to your breasts. He gives them small squeezes, making you moan into the kiss. You pull away and unclasp your bra, revealing one of your biggest secrets, your nipple piercings. 

You earn a gasp from him and your face goes warm, “No point in being embarrassed baby, you’re absolutely stunning.” He ducks down and sucks on your nipples, which were hypersensitive. You’ve soaking through your panties at this point, he stops his actions, “Wait, do the piercings make them more sensitive for you?” You nod, forgetting the vocal rule, which it seems he did too as he continues his actions. His teeth lightly tug at the barbs, making you moan. You slap your hand over your mouth, remembering you aren’t too far from the main stage. “No no no, I wanna hear baby.” Feeling careless you move your hand away. 

He pulls you off the table, eager to hear your noises again, “Take your skirt off for me baby” You unzip your skirt from the side and let it drop. He removes his tie and dress shirt and he unbuckles his belt, quickly ridding himself of his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. His cock was very visible and pressed against the fabric of his boxers. “Lay on the couch for me.” You do as you're told. 

He comes up to your face and quickly kisses you, he moves to your neck, then trails down to the hem of your panties. He spreads your knees apart, and traces the wet spot on your panties, “Awe did my little pup ruin her panties?” His finger barely grazes the fabric on top of your clit, “Only because of daddy’s words.” You both freeze and you immediately start to apologize, “I’m sorry let’s just pretend-” He stops you, “No it’s okay. Daddy likes the name.” He winks at you and pulls your panties off. 

He drags his finger down your slit and slightly presses into your hole. The teasing makes you whine, “More daddy.” He looks back up at you, “Tsk tsk, we must not have manners huh?” “Wha-” A hard smack to the side of your ass cuts you off. You let out a choked moan, “Mmm little pup must like that.” He pulls your hips up and turns you over, on top of his lap. His hand rubs your ass before he gives another hard smack. He gives about five more before the pain turns into pleasure. “Look at you such a little mess, your poor little pussy is leaking all over the couch. Such a dirty little pup aren’t you?” You finally realize your pussy was indeed leaking, your inner thighs felt cold and you felt yourself dripping. 

“Please daddy, touch me.” His hand was now cupped over your cunt, “Thank you for using your manners, where would you like daddy to touch you?” You press against his hand, “Clit, hole anywhere, please” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he complies. You’re still laid over his lap and he spreads your legs apart and rubs your clit with small and slow circles. “I wanna see your little cunt leak some more, that okay with you baby?” You nod your head, “Yes daddy.” 

His movements slightly increase in speed, making your body shake in pleasure, you feel more of your juices leak out of you. “Fuck baby, you get so fucking wet, all for me isn’t that right?” “Yes daddy, all for you.” He plunges two fingers into your needy hole with ease, you immediately clench around him. His fingers fuck you at a moderate pace and he then adds a third and soon a fourth. His fingers are long and press against your sweet spot. His other hand rubs your clit, “So close, keep going” His fingers keep pumping in and out of you, “That’s it baby, cum for me. Make daddy proud.” His words send you over the edge, your orgasm pummels your body. His fingers ride you through your high, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. 

You sit up back on your legs. You notice the obvious wet spot on the couch, Taehyung gets up and rids himself of his boxers. He sits back down and pats his lap. You notice his size now, he’s long and thick but you know you can take him. You straddle his lap and you can already feel the tip of his cock pressing at the entrance of your cunt. “Take it when you're ready,” You want to tease him so you take his cock and rub the tip along your pussy, coating in your juices. You bring it back to your hole and you lower yourself slightly onto the tip, barely taking him. He’s quick to notice your teasing and gives a slight smack to you ass, “Don’t be a brat, take the cock like it’s yours-” You lower yourself completely, cutting him off. 

His hands immediately go to your waist and you moan because his cock is pressing directly on your sweet spot, you whisper into his ear, “Holy fuck, I could literally cum right now you’re so big.” Your sentence ends in a squeak as your body shivers. Your cunt is still completely stuffed with his cock, you lift yourself slightly and fall back down. His grip tightens with every time you come back down, “How the fuck are you still so god damn tight? Did I not prep your little cunt enough?” You shake your head, “No you did fine, just fuck me” 

He flips you onto your back, “Oh I’ll fuck you alright.” His hips immediately snap against yours, the fast pace makes you hold onto his shoulders. Your whimpers and the sound of skin slapping fills the room, “That’s right, such a good pup for me. Taking my cock so well aren’t you?” You nod. He brings his lips to the side of your neck, sucking lightly and licking. He grabs one of your legs and brings it to the side of him, his cock goes deeper than before and abuses your poor sweet spot, “Gonna cum.” His cock pumps in and out of you, “You gonna cum all over this cock aren't you baby?” Your nails dig into his skin and your body buzzes. 

You feel something wet splash onto your inner thighs and look down, “Did you cum?” you ask, a little confused. “Not yet baby, that was you. You can squirt?” A shocked expression covers both your faces, “I guess so, no one has ever made me cum like that.” A slight blush fades on your cheeks until you realize he still hasn't cum. He grabs your hips as though he’s ready to get up but you whisper in his ear, “I want you to cum in me.” 

Not a second passes and his hips snap against yours, giving you a hard thrust deep inside you, making you shiver in overstimulation. He continues and his grunts get higher in pitch indicating he’s close. You purposely squeeze around his cock and say, “Fill me up, please, I’ll do anything. Please-” You gasp as you feel his hot seed spill into you. He doesn’t stop until he milks himself completely. He pulls himself out and his seed quickly follows after, and you quickly lift your hips, attempting to avoid making a mess on the couch under you. 

He quickly gets up and heads to the bathroom on the other side of the room, grabbing some paper towels, wetting a few. He quickly walks back and places some under your bottom, you assume he’s going to wipe off your cunt but he pulls your hips down, making his cum spill out of you. You shiver at the sensation, but Taehyung’s fingers quickly spread his cum all over your cunt. He scoops a bit from your leaking hole and he brings his fingers to your mouth, you comply and suck his fingers clean. “Good girl.” The praise makes your cunt squeeze, allowing more of his seed to spill out onto the paper towels. 

You then feel a cold towel wiping between your thighs, cleaning up the mess created. “Jesus, I’ve never had a load this big, I swear, sorry it’s such a big mess sweetheart.” There’s genuine concern coming from his voice, making you blush a little. “It’s fine, you don’t have to worry about that.” He cocks an eyebrow up but his eyes are still glued to your cunt, “So my baby’s taken loads this big before?” You close your thighs out of embarrassment, but Taehyung’s quick to open them back up, “Answer the question.” You shake your head, “Not by a guy, I just have toys that do” 

The confession makes your face burn red and Taehyung hums and quickly finishes cleaning you and the couch up. You both quickly get dressed as best you can before Taehyung continues the conversation. “Listen I do like you, like a lot. I’m not trying to make this a one time thing.” You feel relieved knowing it wasn’t a one time thing, knowing someone like him doesn't come around too often, “Well it’s a good thing I’m not either.” He grabs the sides of your face and kisses you gently on the lips. You kiss him back and let your eyes flutter closed. It’s more intimate than the ones before, you’re the one to pull away for air. His lips are pink and covered in saliva and you can assume yours are too.

“So what are you doing after this?” You’re still trying to fix your skirt, by flattening the front, “Well nothing really, just the tournament tomorrow” He grabs your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, “How many toys do you have baby?” You bite your lips and it takes you a second to recall you every growing toy collection, “Quite a bit.” He hums, seems like he likes doing that, “Well why don’t you take daddy to your apartment and do a little show and tell for him, hmm?” Your cheeks go red again, despite him already having been balls deep inside you. “What exactly do you mean my show and tell?” He brings you closer to him, “You tell daddy about your toys, then you show me how you use them.” You’d never shown anyone your collection before, but it made you excited. You quickly opened the door and tried to walk as quickly as you could back to the stage, as it was the quickest way back to the parking lot. You weren’t expecting anyone to still be there but your professor called out your name just as you two were about to leave the auditorium. You quickly turn to Taehyung to ask him, “Did you give me any hickies?” His eyes widen and stare at your neck. Amazing, how lucky could you be. You quickly pull your hair out of your ponytail and try to cover your neck. “Hey Professor Yu, did you need something?” She comes closer to you before saying, “Did you and Taehyung figure things out?” You quickly nod, “Yeah it was a simple misunderstanding.” Taehyung quickly interjects, “You could say she just needed to scream it out.” Professor Yu’s face twits in confusion, “Well good, I can’t have my two best kids at each other's throats. Speaking of, you look like you might have bumped into something there.” You laugh it off and say it was just make up you were trying out in the backroom, which for some reason she believes. “Well, I’ll see you two tomorrow morning at 7am sharp. You two have fun until then.” She turns away and Taehyung quickly shouts, “Don’t worry we will!” You jab your elbow into his side, “Jeez could you be more obvious?” He laughs at you but drags you out by the arm to your car, “We better get home quick, it’s gonna be a long night.”

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 8

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bucky entered the bar wearing a neat, black expensive suit, a Rolex sticking out of his left sleeve. He unfastened two buttons by his waist and flung both sides of the suit in the air before sitting down on the stool. He rolled up his sleeves, his lean forearms in plain sight under the incandescent lights hanging by the counter.

Your eyes lingered longer than they should have so you shook your head and ignored his gaze, getting back to work.

"Fancy seeing you back here, James." Out of nowhere, a slight giggle came out from your mouth, pushing the tap handle up and briskly pushing Bucky's hand away. Your eyes found his, whilst you waited for the liquid to fill the beer mug. "I'll get back on you later. I have to give this beer to that son of a bitch over there."

You glanced at the man from earlier who was still giving you a death-like stare.

Bucky responded with a short chuckle and waited for you to finish. You opened your mouth to call Nick but decided against it, calling for Nat instead, who was holding a tray of chicken wings. Nat usually only had three shifts a week but since you were understaffed this week, she had the decency to help out.

"By the way, is Peter here?" Bucky asked.

You glanced at Peter's briefcase. "Yes, he came here straight from an urgent work thing. He just needed to go to the toilet."

"Good, good, that's good." He kept nodding his head, staring at absolutely nothing at all.

You waved your hand in front of his face. "Bucky? You okay?"

"Yeah, no, I'm good." He answered but you weren't convinced. He looked at Peter's briefcase and the beer bottle beside it. "Is that Peter's drink?"

The realization dawned on you once those words slipped out of his mouth. You pursed your lips then nodded. "I tried talking him out of it before but he never listened. You know how Peter is. Stubborn as a damn rock."

"That he is."

"Are you going to talk to him about it?"

"I think so, but not now. I think now's not the right time." He replied. "So, how about that drink, doll?" He asked, swiftly changing the subject.

You ignored the shivers starting to slither on your skin when you heard his little nickname for you. You have been called other nicknames in the bar, including doll, but not one had an effect on you.

Except Bucky.

While grabbing a glass on the counter, you continued to stare at him you felt absolutely nothing. "I feel like you're more of an old-fashioned guy." you commented.

Bucky didn't say anything but a smile formed on his pink plump lips as you made him a glass of old-fashioned. Besides, you can never go wrong with the original cocktail.

Once you were finished, he held the glass near his face, his nose hovering above the drink.

"You know, I've had so many old-fashioned. Smells nothing like this." Then, he took a tiny sip, released a puff of breath and clicked his tongue. "But damn, if it isn't the best old-fashioned I ever had."

You suppressed a giggle. Instead, you smirked at him. "You're not the only one who can make a mean drink, Bucky Barnes."

He chuckled and went on to say that his was still better since it was his own drink and not a classic one. You weren't much of the condescending type so you agreed with him. You could never make your own drink; only the ones you've learned from Steve from the past year.

By the time Bucky devoured the whole drink, Peter had arrived. He was so loud that everyone in the bar turned their heads towards Peter who practically jumped on Bucky from a feet from where he was standing.

"Parker, keep it the fuck down." You scolded Peter like how a mother scolds a child. But with the curses.

Peter gave you an apologetic look as he sat down on the high stool. "Oh, wait, guess who came by the office today," before he could even let you guess, he jumped straight to the answer, "Wanda."

Your actions stopped the moment you heard Wanda's name but moved on eventually. You ignored Peter's eyes while you wiped the counter table, even though it was already squeaky clean. "Maximoff?"

"Yes, Wanda Maximoff! Our team got her as the head photographer for the clothing line account we landed on." He stated.

"Who's Wanda?" Bucky interrupted, curious about the whole thing.

"She's this friend of y/n's who used to tag along with her almost everyday in NYU." Peter replied. "She's also a photographer."

Peter went on about the whole clothing line account for a few minutes. It was mostly about how he and his team landed a "cool photographer" like Wanda. Sunday was the only time Wanda was free so they took an opportunity to talk to her.

Must be nice to be so busy all the damn time.

Peter proceeded to talk so highly of her and all the work she'd done in just a shy of a  year in the industry. If you remembered correctly, the only time Peter and Wanda ever spoke to one another was when Wanda came to borrow something of yours and asked Peter if you were home. Now, he talked about her as if he'd known her for years.

Your eyes lazily wandered to the photographs you've shown Bucky this morning on the wall. Suddenly, it was eerily silent inside your head. No jukebox noise, no television noise, no rowdy noise; nothing.

It had been three years and you haven't accomplished anything that could fill your heart's content. No photos in magazines, not even on the damn streets. They were just here on the bar, camouflaged among the walls.

When your eyes found Peter and Bucky's, Peter had just finished his little story with Wanda starting to work with them for the next few weeks. "This is the biggest account my team has ever gotten. I am so excited!"

"I'm glad everything has been working out for you, Peter." Bucky placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, patting him.

"I just want to be like you, Buck."

Bucky glanced at you for a second. He let go of Peter's shoulder. He didn't respond to him. He just offered Peter a smile.

The two talked the whole night while you were pulled in every direction as more people came. You were making drinks left and right. The people by the counter had their eyes set on somewhere else. The television right above the counter. The billiards table. The jukebox. People dancing by the jukebox. Good-looking ladies being jeered at by single men, and vice-versa.

But only a pair of eyes was watching you move around: Bucky's.

You had caught him staring quite a few times the whole four hours you were working at the bar even though he was conversing with Peter. The whole time making and handing drinks to people, you kept thinking if Peter and Bucky were talking about you. Usually, you would eavesdrop in other people's conversations — of course, these were strangers. You didn't think you could do that to both Peter and Bucky. You shut your ears whenever you'd come near them but it wasn't as if they could be heard, anyway. You could barely hear the conversation with the television on, the jukebox playing and all the people buzzing in the bar — but you did catch some words like "Stark", "White Wolf", "home", and some country names.

All of a sudden, you stopped obsessing on the subject of their conversation. Your mind was then wrapped around with thoughts on Wanda and how, in just one year, she had already accomplished so much in her career whilst you were still here, juggling two jobs. You weren't the jealous type but the more you thought about it, the more those ugly feelings grew. Your photos on the damn walls were not much of a help. They just reminded you that you were a failure, that this was what you get for being a mediocre photographer and for settling for a menial job.

But you had to do what you needed to do in order to survive in this cruel world.

You did try and apply for some big advertising and business companies while working in the bar but luck was never on your side. There were always better ones, or ones who had connections. The latter one was just one of the many reasons why you hated big corporations.

"Who's the rich guy?" Whisking you from your train of thoughts was Nat. She was holding a tray full of canned beers and some fries, and caught up with you.

You walked towards the booth together.

"That's Bucky. Peter's stepbrother." You and Nat gave the food and beverage to the people in the booth.

"He'd been eyeing you for the past few hours." She hugged her tray on her chest as you walked back to the counter. "And you know what I think, y/n?"

"Nat — "

"He wants a piece of you."

You and Nat weren't as close as people would think you were. You only hung out in the workplace. And by hang out, you meant talking (even gossiping) while working.

"Please, he's so much older than me."

"That's what makes it hotter, dumbass."

"When was it ever hot?"

"Duh, those lingering stares he'd been giving you." She raised an eyebrow, stopping at the edge of the counter. "I'm telling you, he wants you."

"He's Peter's stepbrother, Nat. It's inappropriate!"

"It's not like he's his biological brother. And besides, I think it's..." She leaned in and whispered. "Thrilling."

You rolled your eyes. "And I think you're delusional."

"Think whatever you want to think." Nat chuckled. "But the facts are right there. He wants to get a taste of you, and you of him. Ciao, bitch."

And with that, she spun around, her red hair lost in the sea of strangers.

By the time your shift was ending, you removed the apron and hung it on the coat rack near Steve's office at the back. Your instinct was to go to Steve's office and let him know that your shift was over but you just remembered that he was in Rhode Island with his family. You lost the grip on the knob then went back to the counter and tapped Peter's shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Bucky.

"Already?" Peter asked in disbelief. "Wow, it's true what they say. Time flies by when people are catching up."

You squinted your eyes at him. "I literally have never heard someone say that, Parker."

"Really, never?"

"Never." You replied, opening the passthrough. "Now, let's go."

"Wait," Peter said, "I have to go to the toilet real quick."

"Our apartment is right above this bar. You can just go there."

"Sorry, y/n. This can't wait." He sped towards the toilet, practically flying. You sighed and took his seat, facing Bucky.

"Hey, doll." He said in a voice that could make any woman swoon and fall on the floor. Bucky's voice was raspier than you remembered, breath with a hint of whiskey mixed with beer. "Haven't spoken to you in a while."

"Sunday nights can be busy as well."

"So, I've seen." He hummed. "This is your everyday life, huh?"

"Except Mondays. We're closed on Mondays. And except when I have some photography gig." You replied then whispered the next part: "Which I haven't been getting lately."

"Isn't Sunday," he laughed, "supposed to be a rest day?"

"In our bible, it's Monday."

Before Bucky could even speak, Peter came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. "If you just accepted that job offer at our company, we would've been working together, y/n."

You playfully shrugged him off. "You were thinking about that while peeing? Weirdo. Plus, Wanda has a lot more experience than I have."

"But — "

"Come on, let's go. You're drunk." You lifted off his arm and turned towards Bucky. "You take him. He's a bit hard to handle when he's this drunk."

Bucky walked ahead, guiding Peter towards the door. Before you could even follow the two, Nat patted your shoulder. You spun around, meeting her suggestive eyes. Without even a second thought, she pulled your tight v-top even lower and spilled some drink on your exposed cleavage.

"Nat, what the damn hell!" You hissed.

"Trust me on this, babe." She scrunched up her nose. "Go get some rich dick." She twirled your body so easily then slapped your ass. You wanted to shout at Nat but you didn't want to cause a scene in the bar and the moment had already passed as she disappeared amongst the crowd once again.

You caught up towards Bucky and Peter, opening the door for them.

The walk towards the apartment unit was tedious and was accompanied by Peter's hilarious commentaries about every little thing he saw on the way. As Bucky's arm was getting sore, you helped lift Peter up as the elevator doors closed behind you.

You felt Bucky's eyes on you as you lifted Peter's right arm, slinging it across your shoulders. You came face to face with Bucky, his eyes somewhere underneath your neck. You cleared my throat to get his attention.

"Uh," he stammered, "you got some alcohol on your... uh..."

"Oh, yeah. Don't mind that. Some idiot spilled on me." Nat really was some idiot.

A genius idiot.

Peter immediately hugged his pillow once we placed him on his bed. You leaned in and kissed his forehead good night. "I hope you have a heavy hangover tomorrow, Parker."

You turned around only to be blocked by Bucky's towering figure. "Sorry." You mumbled, looking down on your feet.

"It's alright, doll." He replied, making some space for you to walk on.

You headed towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water and Bucky followed suit, tossing his suit jacket on the couch as if he was living in your place.

"You should go get changed." He spoke.

You rolled your eyes, finishing up your water.

"Okay, daddy." Of course, you meant it as a joke as it sounded so much funnier in your head — not so much said out loud.

Bucky's eyes lit up with curiosity, walking towards you. "What did you say?"

"Nothing." You replied quickly. "I absolutely said nothing."

He just continued to stare as he strode towards you. You just stayed frozen in your place, unable to process what was about to happen. You backed away from Bucky as he neared you, your back hitting the fridge. He stopped right in front of you. He looked so much different when you first saw him. His eyes had become darker and stared with so much intensity and intention.

"You know, you're something else." He licked his lower lip.

"I don't know what you mean, Bucky."

He traced your jawline with his finger and tilted your chin up. "I can't quite put my finger on you, doll, but you're really something else."

You weren't ready for something to happen so you walked as quickly as you could towards your bedroom, locked the door behind me and leaned against it. Your breathing was quite uneven and your heart thudded like fast bullets on the ground.

You looked down on your sticky chest that reeked of vodka. You pursed your lips together. "Natasha Romanoff, you son of a bitch."

[seostudios]

零 don’t cha

synopsis: who would’ve thought that dating you; the perfect it girl. would be this much trouble? definitely not nakamoto yuta as he decided to become someone more significant to you. was this your average fairy tale or was this a tragedy?

genre: fluff, angst pairings: yuta x fem!reader info: ceo!au, non-idol!au, ceo!yuta, ceo!model!music-producer!nct, rich!au, mentions of proclaimed death, cheating, brother!johnny, assistant!haechan!jungwoo wc: 6.8k

a/n: lol this is NOTHING LIKE WHAT U REQUESTED I’M SO SORRY..... i mean in the beginning it is but it just took a turn and i was writing whatever came to mind... like 2/3 of the story isn’t even a yuta x reader fic it’s jsut about everything else! i hate myself for doing u dirty but i hope u read this! it’s actually good (imo) since i worked awhile on it and it’s one of my longer fics. 

She was fierce, elegant, beautiful. An unmatched package for any walking figure. Her person, running a multi-millionaire business by herself. Doing it for who? Her and Suki; the fiery red betta fish, placed on her nightstand. Yuta was just like you. Although Yuta is fierce, charming and quick on his feet, he still manages to be just the opposite around you. Yuta is on the right path, growing his empire little by little. You started as an insufficient secretary for an Electric Power Corporation but, those late nights and overtime paid off as you are now the CEO of your own retail company. Yuta waltzed into your business while he was an errand boy for Moon Taeil, a good friend and business partner of yours. Taeil had been worried about his future and decided he would've let Yuta go under your wing for a couple of weeks.

That brings you here, September 2019. The vibrant hues of autumn settling into the busy streets of Seoul. "Good morning Ms. Seo." The receptionist, Chaewon, greeted with a bubbly smile like any other day. "Yuta is waiting for you in your office," She informed, watching your small strides turn into a jog towards the elevator. When you reached the top floor where your office and meeting rooms were located, "Did you receive John's fax? He told me your father wanted an opinion!" Haechan, your assistant, asked swiftly, sticking to your hip as you stepped out of the conveyor, pushing his glasses up. "Oh, can you tell him to print whatever he sent and meet me for lunch? I heard he's back in the city." He nodded before running back towards his cubicle to make the requested phone call. That's when you were finally able to enter the office. "So... The rumours are true, you did decide to visit." You grin like a Cheshire cat plastered onto your face, you made long strides beside Yuta, who was staring into the traffic abyss below you two. He hummed before turning over to you; "How is my favourite person doing today?" He asked cheerfully before inviting himself to sit on your chair. Dragging yourself yet again, towards Yuta. You stood in front of him before seating yourself on top of the desk. He watched as your posture slumped and brows knit with a childish frown displayed. "Not well," He decided to sit up in his seat, hands combing through his dirty blond locks. "John's back in town, I'm pretty sure he brought Gyunghui." You roll your eyes unknowingly at the mention of your elder brother's proclaimed girlfriend. "I mean, who gets married after dating for 6 months?!" You groan, disappointed in your brother's decisions. Yuta's eyes crinkled at the corners before he threw his head back in laughter. Was this the reason you were so upset? "Y/N they've been friends for 10 years, I think it's safe to say they'll be okay." He responded with a smile. Straightening up, you huff and look the other way, crossing your legs. "Ugh, Whatever..." You look back down at him, "How is Jin Nyun?" Yuta's face fell, 'Can't we go one conversation without mentioning her?' He pondered momentarily before looking up at you with a soft smile, "She's amazing. She went out of town for work," He sighed, "Again." Your brows furrowed for an instant. He seemed upset. Why wouldn't he be? You'd be furious if your lover set off on multiple business trips every week. That's when it hit you, "What is she again? Job?" You question. "She's a photographer." Now that's bullshit. You knew for a fact, she wasn't big enough in the industry to leave on trips on multiple occasions for a photoshoot. "Why?" He asked, and you couldn’t explain the sense of innocence you felt from him, so oblivious to the situation he's in. "N-Nothing just wondered." You stutter out. He observed you quietly but decided to leave it like that. Raising your wrist, you glance towards your watch, "It's nearing noon." You whisper, Yuta looks up, "Plans?" he questioned with a brow raised. You nod "Lunch with Johnny," Smiling you reminisce back to when you and Johnny ruled overtop Seoul, with two successful companies in powerful industries. "I'll walk you out then," Yuta chimed, jumping from his seat, bringing his hand out for you to hold. "Oh! What a gentleman." You giggle, watching his cheeks tint in a shade of red.

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"You sure there isn't going on between you and Yuta?" Your brother asked playfully, watching as Yuta walked you towards the small cafe at the end of the street. "He has a girlfriend, John," Can't a man and woman simply be friends? What's with him? "So?" He shrugs laughing before whining from the sharp pain in his calf where you managed to land a hand kick at. "What? From what I've heard from Taeil and Mark," Mark is Yuta's closest friend. "She's not all she says to be," He brushed it off his shoulder, "Maybe she's just a workaholic?" You suggest, "We both know an amateur photographer like her isn't that busy." The two of you erupt in a fit of knowing laughter. "You're too dangerous, Johnny," You kiss your teeth before being served the lunch you had Johnny order earlier. "But on a serious note, you should find a boyfriend." He makes a disgusted face, looking you up and down. "Before you age, aren't you almost 24?" He questioned, "Yea, but-" "Mom was pregnant with you at 24." He finishes, before receiving a well-deserved step on his big-toe. "What?! I just want what's best for you!" He barked, "You think that's Yuta! He's my friend and not to mention a business partner!" He lifted his hands, trying not to engage in an argument that might have you ignoring him (again) for months. "Alright, I know!" He sucks in his breath, "Lunch is almost over, kiddo. Try getting in that office and doing something extravagant as always." Johnny grabbed your empty plate and stacked them on top of one another, cleaning up as much possible. "You should have dinner with Gyunghui and me tonight? I'm sure you don't have plans." His eyes lit up at the mention of Gyunghui. It almost warmed your heart. "I wish! I gotta help Yuta clean his apartment tonight," Way to go Y/N! You just made the worst excuse possible. Yuta was probably going to be spending his evening kicking back and relaxing without Jin Nyun. Now that you've told Johnny this, you'd have to go through with it. "Oh?" Johnny's face turns into something more sinister. But you laugh it off knowing he's probably thinking of something perverted. "Okay! Gotta go!" "Not so fast," He grabbed the back of your arm, seating you back down, "You pay today." He smiled before grabbing his briefcase and jacket, exiting happily.

You slump into the cushion before grabbing your purse from the inside of your jacket pocket. After you pay, you pull out your phone, dialling Yuta's number. The call didn't even reach the first ring before he picked up, "Hello?" He was first to speak too. Weird. "Hi, It's Y/N-" "I know, we've had each other's numbers for three years now." You chuckle, "Okay... We have plans tonight, my friend." You can hear the evident groan on the other end. "When and where?" He asked. "After I get off around four and your place!" You cheer before silencing, waiting for a response. "Okay, good." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I need to clean this place up anyways, you can help out." He stated. "Perfect." You replied.

⋆

Who would've guessed that your evening is being spent by scrubbing a sink with floral gloves? "You know," You started. "We could've gone out for dinner and hired someone for this," Yuta, who was behind you wiping the kitchen counter. "Yes, but it's unnecessary." He says. You groan, "Can't we watch something on Netflix? This place was already clean when I came in!" You whine, stomping your feet like a child. "No," He simply replied.

"Okay! Let's see what's on Netflix..." You mumble, before looking over to Yuta beside you on the couch. He seemed tense, uninterested. It was odd to see him like this, "Are you okay?" You tediously asked. He murmured something under his breath before sucking it in. "This is weird," He said, "Why are you trying to hang out with me while my girlfriend is out of town? Are you into me or something? I just find it weird!" He finally let out. So this is what has been bothering Yuta. Did he feel uncomfortable with you? He's acting like a completely different person from who he was earlier today at the office. "I'm sorry? I don't know what to say..." You exhale, "We're friends, and friends hang out. Plus, I needed an excuse to get out of dinner with Johnny and Gyunghui." His face fell, a pang of guilt waving over him. Did he seriously think you were trying to get into his pants (He's not wrong)? God, who did he think he was, making such assumptions. "Oh- Fuck. Sorry Y/N. I don't know what got over me." He throws the blanket to the side before leaving the living room towards the bathroom. It wasn't supposed to hurt. I mean, you've always had these hidden feelings for Yuta, but you still treated him like you would to a friend. "Hey, I think I'm just really stressed with Jin Nyun. She's never home." He bellowed, pumping his fists into the air before letting out a stressed groan. "She's really getting under your skin, huh?" You say, "Deeper than I thought." He made his way back beside you. "Let's- Let's just play this movie." He massaged the back of his neck, now focused on the movie displayed on the flat-screen TV.

⋆

"Y/N!" You pull the phone from your ear for a moment. Johnny was exceptionally loud at ten in the morning. He sounded like he had something urgent to tell you. But, you out of everyone had no time to listen to his girl talk, especially when you're in a meeting room with ELLE magazine staff, discussing your new line of clothing and having your collection featured in this month's issue. "You won't believe-" "Johnny! I have a job to do!!" You screech, hearing his apologies moments after. Ending the phone call, you enter the meeting room, "Sorry, where were we?" Assistant editor, Myeong-Ko set this meeting up with you to discuss your fall collection. "Since you've gained an audience over the past five years, we'd like to include you're best fashion pieces on our models and October issue."

Finally, you thought you'd be stuck in that meeting for ages! It's a little past noon, you are positive that Johnny's at home relaxing on his day off, you decide to call him back on your way to your late lunch with Yuta and Taeil. "Hello?" You are greeted by Johnny's panting voice with Gyunghui's giggles heard; not wanting to know what was going on the other end of the phone, you cut to the chase. "Johnny, what'd you want to tell me earlier?" You hear the 'Ou' loud and clear as he remembers and laughs aloud, "Guess who asked Doyoung out at a club in Ilsan?" You wrinkle your forehead, looking up at the sky, thinking. "No clue," "Jin Nyun!" Johnny said. Now, this was a disaster. You thought Jin Nyun had been smart enough to not cheat on her boyfriend with his old drinking mate. Did the news reach Yuta? "Did he tell him?" You asked hesitantly, "No, he told me to tell you to tell him." And with that, big brother Seo ended the call to return to doing god knows what with his wife. That's when you reached the front door of this eatery. Yuta gave you directions to this new Tteokbokki place, a ten-minute walk from the main street. You walked in, recognizing the blond from a mile away, eyes glued to his phone in the corner booth. "Y/N..." He said, standing up and brushing off the crumbs of what seemed like a cookie off his lap. He looked awful, the ache in your heart wondering who caused him such discomfort flamed the anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach. "Hey, hey. What's wrong?" You watch him slumped back into the seat, not bothering to sit in front of him, you went into the seat beside him. No matter how weird it looked, to be seated in a booth beside each other, it looked like he needed someone right now. He wore a Nike sweater with basketball shorts and sneakers. You bring your hand to his cheek to lift it and get a good look at him. A sharp pain filled your body, seeing his tear-stained cheeks. He wasn't okay. Looking all worn out and out of place wasn't Yuta. He was always looking ethereal to everyone else. Why did he look so helpless? "Let's go to my apartment, I live a few minutes away." You whisper, watching him nod softly.

⋆

It's nearing seven in the early hours of the evening. Yuta hasn't left your living room couch since he just had his heartbroken. It seemed to be that Jin Nyun broke up over text with Yuta telling him he wasn't enough to satisfy her needs. He also mentioned her telling him she met someone a couple of months ago and has been seeing him, but didn't she try sleeping with Doyoung? "Yuta, stop sulking over a girl who doesn't even have her priorities straight." You said, closing the freezer door with another tub of green-tea ice cream. "One year." He mumbled, almost incoherent, "I gave up a year of my life to be cheated on for god knows how long!" He barks. You hand Yuta the ice cream, before standing there, thinking. What could cheer him up? "Oh! I know!" You run into your bedroom, walking out with a bowl. "Suki, say hi to Yuta. He's feeling down... Make him happy, please?" You ask the Betta fish in the bowl before placing her on the coffee table in front of Yuta. "Wha-What?" He expressed his amusement from your odd liking towards this redfish. "Say hi to Suki, Yuta!" You cheer before pointing at Suki. "You're kidding me?" You turn to look up at you, with your hands placed on either side of your hips, 'She wasn't kidding' he turns back and hunched over to look into the bowl "Hi Suki." 

"Are you still thinking about her?" You ask, nudging Yuta. "Surprisingly, no," He said, staring into the black screen. You raise a brow, curious. "I've been thinking about you." He sighs before looking at Suki, who was moved to the table beside the couch so she could 'get a better look at the movie.' "Oh?" This was interesting. Why would he think of you? Were you that significant to him now? "It's just that, you just took the day off... To take care of me." He mumbles. "It's not that big of a deal, I- you was hurt. Of course, I have to be there for you!" You fiddle with the blanket, "You're really important to me." The now tongue-tied boy's head shot up, turning to look at you. His bewildered face softened in moments before he gathered the courage to reply. "You're really important to me too." You rip the blanket off you, throwing it in Yuta's direction. "It's almost midnight. I think we need to eat dinner before bed." You tell him, making your way into the kitchen. "Before bed?" He asked. "You are spending the night, right?" You asked, stopping in your tracks. "Oh, Are you okay with that?" He asked, getting up and trailing behind you. You throw a quick 'Duh?' towards the boy earning a couple chuckles your way. He sat on the island stool, watching you pull together something some-what edible for you two tonight. "I want to apologize for the other night again, I shouldn't have assumed or acted like that," 'He said that out of the blue.' You though before scrunching up your face before cracking an egg, "I hope you like French toast." You say, dodging the unneeded apology.

⋆

Nakamoto Enterprises. Never thought you'd walk into Yuta's building with a pair of jeans and a sweater. Most of your trips here were business-related, and you often showed up in a suit. "H-Hi Ms.S-Seo!" Yuta's assistant, Jungwoo, said, greeting you. "Hey Jungwoo, is Yuta out of his meeting yet? He promised me tacos," You said, rubbing your belly enthusiastically, earning a couple of giggles from the tall-boy. "Ah! I heard him mumble something about tacos earlier while fixing his dress-shirt." He said, remembering. Just then, you see Yuta walkout, Jungwoo covers his mouth, tilting towards you. "I heard he dyed his hair and got all dolled up for you Y/N, don't mess up." He said before waving goodbye and wandering off towards his associates. "New do?" You said, combing your fingers through Yuta's rosewood locks. "Just for you." He smiles before walking out with you. After his breakup with Jin Nyun, oddly, he's been on top of his game. You'd think you would have to take a week off to help the pain go away. You knew how much he loved her. Now? Now it was like the two of you had this new sort of bond.

What you weren't aware of was that Yuta has a new spot for you in his heart. Somewhere he held dear. Yuta never expected to move on that fast, but he knew you were always there, just waiting to break out and roam freely in his mind. You made his insides twist in a way Jin Nyun couldn't, but something in him knew it was too soon. "Something wrong?" You asked the boy zoning out at the red light, "No, I'm good." He replied, hand gripping the wheel. Although his mind was flooded with innocent, pure thoughts of you. Tonight, something in him wanted to tear you apart in his penthouse. Always chasing after something that didn't want to be chased after, or so he thought. "Can we get ice-cream... I finished the one at home." He contemplates what to do for a minute before answering proudly, "Nope!" He said. He looks so confident but, he almost melted when you called his place home. "Why not?!" "I'm cooking dinner." He replied, now focusing on the road. You huff and sit back in the seat, staring out the window. The beating in your heart, drumming loud in your ears. Is it possible he feels the same? Or is this way of coping without Jin Nyun... If you thought this evening couldn't get any better- you were wrong! Mark and Taeil decided to drop by while you hung around Yuta's suite. The four of you were feasting on the take-out the two boys brought over. Guess Yuta doesn't have to cook. "So, Mark, you're a producer?" You asked before taking a bite, "Yea, Johnny helps out sometimes." Oh? Johnny helping make music? I guess you could see that in a way, he does have a few specialties in the Arts. "Y/N! Congrats on ELLE, by the way!" Taeil interrupted loud and cheerfully. Your eyes crinkle at the sides while you show him a toothy grin. "I'm proud," Yuta said, bringing his hand up to ruffle your hair. 

⋆

The winter chill settles in, as the streets were now covered in a thick blanket of white, footsteps and paw prints being crisscross along the sidewalks. You sported a simple city chic black coat pairing it with a white turtleneck long-sleeve sweater dress. You admit, though the layered clothing appeared to keep you all warm to the naked eye, your exposed legs seemed to be coated in goosebumps as you speeded towards the tall building. "No pants?" Haechan asked, handing you a coffee. "My mom's coming in today," You confess, Haechan's facial expression remained still as if he was already aware of your guest. "She's in your office, let me take your coat." You thank the younger boy before skipping into the elevator beside the main lobby. Before you reached the top floor, the lift stopped on the tenth floor. "Taeyong?" You ask, the man wearing a black mask with his suit. "Y/N? Oh my god, hey." Taeyong was a good friend of yours. He even works under you. Though you'd think having a comrade by your side while you are at your job, it had driven you two apart, both of you only meeting during promotional seasons. He was hired as one of your models and editors. Being successful, he often modelled for Taeil and Kun, another business associate of yours. Though losing a friend hurt horribly, you were still happy for Taeyong and his newfound profession. "Oh my god, I forget you're my boss sometimes," He said, removing his mask. "Haven't seen you in weeks." You chuckle softly before speaking, "We need to catch up, I heard you were the model for our ELLE issue, and you are going to star in an advertisement for Kun?" He nodded. "Kun wanted me and someone, named, Ten to star in the advertisement for his new diamond sets." Your mouth goes slightly agape at the mention of the name, immediately squealing to yourself. "Ten?! Ten Lee?!!! I've been begging his agency to have him model for us! How come Kun gets him that quick?!" Taeyong threw his head back slightly before erupting into a fit of laughter. You seriously were jealous, and it entertained the boy. The elevator stops on the 20th floor. "My stop. Good luck getting Ten. I'll tell him your hot. Maybe then he'll consider..." Taeyong joked before waving goodbye. The rest of the ride up was quiet. You made sure to fix the end of your dress before meeting with your mother. Exiting the chute, you made your way to make your mother a quick cup of coffee from the instant coffee machine. It was no macchiato but it'll make do. 

"Why are you late?" Your mother questioned once you walked into the room. "I was just getting you coffee," You voiced before walking and taking a seat in front of your desk. Taking files and shoving it out of the way. Handing her the coffee, you finally take a sip on your drink, which was now as cold as the snowfall this season. "So, Mom. What brings you here?" You asked. "Can't I visit my daughter?" She replies, offended. "No, you can't." You scoff, "What do you want?" You interrogate, and that's when you see her shoulders drop as she grips the coffee cup. You knew it. "Listen, sweetheart..." You hum, she continues. "It's ... It's just that you're almost 25! An unmarried chairwoman is humiliating. I don't want Johnny or your father to be ashamed of you, so get your shit together is I give your hand in marriage to another man." Your mother scoffs, the innocent facade fading. Though she had no right to talk to you like that, it felt like a slap in the face. You thought that was the end of it, but no. She had more to get off her chest. "You're friends with Mr.Nakamoto, Mr. Kim, Moon, and that model kid Taeyong. All single. Yet you're still single. Get your shit together, Y/N. I can't always run after you-" "Leave." You were now standing up from the little office chair, pointing towards the door. This was wrong. You shouldn't be disrespectful to someone attempting to fix your own mistakes right? "Farewell then, Goodluck." Unfazed, she exits while you stood in the empty room, the silent room. The only detectable noises were the sound of hurried footsteps, the squeak of doors and the printers from co-workers. 

⋆ 

Saturday nights were known for the shenanigans Yuta, and you pulled. Though tonight, the two of you decided on dressing like sophisticated businesswomen and men, like you weren't already! Come on, you two are multimillionaires. Now, heading to Ryunique, a Fusion restaurant along Gangnam-gu. Today, you squeezed into the most elegant dress in your wardrobe. A black short tulle-skirt lace dress, the double-layered stand-up collar. Especially with your partner in crime who decided on wearing a black satin button-up dress shirt with black pants and his long hair slicked back. You two were the main attraction of the night for sure. "What if we pretended to have American accents?" You joked, exiting the car. "We don't even know English Y/N." The two of you broke into small fits of laughter. "All right, enough jokes. Let's head in." Patting the ends of your dress, you fix the watch on your wrist and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good evening," The tall man at the front desk immediately greeted, standing up and walking towards you two. "Hello, we've got reservations." He clicks his tongue before grabbing the laptop on the desk and placing it on the counter. "Name?" "Mr. and Mrs.Nakamoto." Okay, maybe you two took it too far, to look like a dirty rich couple coming to shower money on these restaurant folks, but it was all in good fun! 

Did wealthy people seriously come here to spend hundreds on Pork Belly, Jowl and Shrimps? Damn right! It was delicious, "Yuta. Give me a bite, please...!!" You beg him. He ordered Beef and Salmon. In other words, tonight's special. "Finish what's on your plate first, Mrs.Nakamoto." He tells you, smiling, before cutting a piece of his Beef and placing it onto your plate. Since when were you so spoilt. By Yuta out of everyone. "I can't believe you made it seem like we were married," You said snickering. "I wasn't going to do that at first, but something about 'Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto' sounded nice." He plays with the leftover salad on the plate, "It has a nice tone to it, right?" If you weren't in a five-star restaurant, you would've choked, but in attempts to keep your cool at Yuta's shameless behaviour in public, you look up and give a smile. "Mhm! Perfect, we should use it more often!" There you were, fighting fire with fire. "Y/N- You can't just-!?" He stops in the middle of his sentence to fill his mouth with the salad. "Check!" He calls out, as you sit there playing with an olive. You sure do have him wrapped around your finger. Sadly, even Saturdays come to an end. "Shouldn't the guy be walking the girl home?" Yuta asked. "Right? I was thinking that. I guess I'm the man here." Playfully Yuta nudged you. Before pulling you close, his arm envelopes around you. "I'm a man." He assures more to himself than you, "Sure..." Dragging your feet towards Yuta's doorstep, you let out a yawn. "Oh god, I gotta play the man role now." He mumbles before unlocking his front door. "You're sleeping over. Can't have my damsel walk out alone in the dark." He whispers to your half-asleep figure leaning on the doorframe, dozing away. 

⋆

Your nose scrunches as your eyes take in every ray of light, and without a doubt, you know you've slept in today. What day was it? Was it still morning or past noon? Where is your phone? Wait, where were you? It took a little adjusting for your tired eyes to realize you were in Yuta's bedroom. Oh, you must have slept over. Looking to your right, you see shirtless Yuta, sprawled across the bed. Hold on. Catching a double-take on what you are looking at... shirtless Yuta... God is on your side today. He turns his head over, an evident smirk displayed. “Like what you see?” He asked, “As if!” You reply, taking the pillow from underneath your head and throwing it at him. “I’m gonna shower, make breakfast will ya?” You request, before marching into his bathroom. ‘What's that smell’ you wonder, skipping into the open kitchen. You’ve always admired the interior of Yuta’s place. Modern yet cozy. “I hope you’re craving egg fried rice.” Yuta said which you happily replied with a hungry growl. “Hungry as a hippo today!” You make your way behind him. You have this urge to back hug him, to wrap your slender arms around his waist, indulging in his scent. “Wh-What are you doing?” Yuta asked. He felt a shock when you wrapped around him, nuzzling yourself into his neck. “I don’t know..” You confess, before it hit you. “Oh my god..! I didn’t even know if you were okay with that! I am such a perv, why’d you go hug him Y/N! Stupid, Stupid, Stupid...” You didn’t realize it there but Yuta turned off the stove when he turned around to grab your wrist from leaving, pulling you back into his embrace. This time he wraps his arms around you, pushing your head into his warm chest. His hand made it’s way to pet your head for a moment before he broke the embrace, the two of you got a glimpse at one another, safe to say he feels the same right? Yuta turns to reach up at the cabinet to serve the two of you. Walking over to his dining table he places the plates while you get some water. “Eat up Mrs.Nakamoto” He chirps, before sitting. 

“Yuta I’m gonna wear your sweater!” You shout from his closet, “Mkay!” He replies. Yuta and you decided on skipping work, and spending your Sunday relaxing in his suite. Grabbing his basketball shorts and sweater you tie an extra tight knot on the waist so you didn’t have to hold it whenever you needed to move settings. “Wow, so cute.” He flirts watching you being swallowed by his clothing. “C’mere,” He pats a spot beside him, which you gladly accepted sitting cuddled up beside him. The two of you have still not confronted one another with the fact your feelings were now out in the open. He knew how deeply in-love you were with him, it was getting so hard to hide.. It kind of just, spilt. Yuta only confirmed his by hugging you back. It was more so a silent confession between the two of you. The promise to be with one another till the end of time being hidden somewhere in that heartwarming moment in the kitchen. “So, are we like?” You start, looking up at him to see him nodding with an eye crinkling smile. “Good.” You state, punching the air in victory. He places a kiss on the top of your head. A thank you. 

⋆

A year ago, today. You and Nakamoto Yuta came clean about your growing feelings for one another. Now you were happily in love. Work was the same as always. Only a few changes this year had occurred. Johnny, finally becoming a father. Taeyong had been promoted and was now working more flexibly, letting the two of you hang out. Lastly, but not least, you and Yuta. Not a peep from your mother since that day at the office and no word from Jin Nyun either. You've noticed her attempting to rekindle a spark on multiple occurrences, but as foretold, Yuta steered clear. Now you were living happily, right? Wrong.

It’s not everyday that your best friend comes back from the dead. On April 23rd, 2011, 15-year-old, Jaehyun, had been announced dead in a fatal car accident. The car drove off the Banpo Bridge in the middle of the night, which led the authorities to believe he was drunk driving. There was hope he was still out there, but as the years progressed, you lost hope. Jaehyun’s dream was to become a designer. Though you’ve always wanted to become an interior designer, in a way to pay your respects, you’ve followed his desired path. But, to say the least, you learnt to love this path. It’s where you met Yuta and the people you can call your closest. Now, almost ten years later. You receive a call. "Hello?" On the other end of the line, you could hear soft breaths. Feeling a little uneasy, you call Yuta. Who was idling on the couch, silently over to listen to whatever was going on? "Hello? Who is this?" You ask once more. The breathing halts and, you hear a flimsy cough, "Is this Y/N?" You look over to Yuta, who seemed concerned. "Y-Yes." You answer. The man laughs wholeheartedly for a minute too long before a pause. "Who is this?" You asked, "Jung Jae-" "Don't even finish. Is this some sort of cruel joke?! Who are you!?" You were furious. Yuta backs away to watch from a distance, but ready to comfort you if anything. "Who said I was joking? 66-2 Gongpyeong-dong, Jung-gu, Daegu. Thursday night." He finished with a smooching noise at the end of the line. He ends the call, and you adjust your seat on the island stool. "Jaehyun's dead, right?" You mumble to yourself, still audible to an oblivious Yuta. "Baby? Tell me what's on your mind. You know I'm here," He doesn't know Jaehyun. In fact, he has no clue about how you were in the past. The heartbreaks you've had. "Jaehyun." Yuta furrows his brows. Who is Jaehyun? A past lover, perhaps? Hopping off the stool, you make your way towards the master bedroom. Pulling out a duffle bag from underneath the bed. Although this phone call seemed like some sort of sick set-up, you couldn't help it. A small portion of you knew there could be a chance Jaehyun was still alive. 'Johnny and Jaehyun were friends too,' You thought. He must've been informed about his whereabouts if he was alive. Ding. Perfect timing, such an emotional time, being interrupted. Yuta calls you from the door.

"It's Johnny!" 

The timing couldn’t be any better. Just in, that your elder brother had gotten a text, similar to the call you received. He ran into the bedroom, seeing you packing. Turning around, you noticed his suitcase in hand. “Did he?” Johnny questioned. How could he believe a mere text from an unknown number? You scoff, “Yea, I got a call, I don’t buy it though. He’s dead.” You fumed. “Then why are you packing?” He interrogated. He’s right, why were you? “I-I-I don’t know! Just- Just get in the car.” You throw the keys of your minivan off the bed towards Johnny, who catches it, happily. “Apparently I don’t exist. What the hell is going on!?” Yuta roared. Stopping your actions, you walk over to the boy standing behind Johnny. “Jung Jaehyun died in a fatal car accident in 2011. Someone is claiming that he’s alive.” You answered, watching his expression change from dumbfounded to intrigued. “Why does his death concern you guys?” He asked. “He is-was, my best friend.” Yuta brings his hand down towards your hand, grabbing to caress it with his finger. He could only imagine how dreadful this might be, “When he died... Did they find his body?” He asked. Cautiously. You suck in your breath in realization. No, they didn’t. Looking up to Johnny with a glint of hope glistening in your eyes. Was he really alive? “Go, I’ll take care of work.” He says after wrapping his arms around you. “Thank you." You whisper before grabbing Johnny and walking out. Yuta sighs, "She forgot her bag." He said to himself.

"We have to catch the next train Daegu." You say to Johnny, driving. "I booked our tickets as soon as I got the text. We board in two hours." Prepared as always. Johnny drives over the highway, lights on full beam. You watched how the bright lights played in the pouring rain. This was going to be the only time. You'd be close to relaxing before the next chain of events. But all your mind wandered to was Yuta. How Yuta was doing was your main concern as of now. You're nowhere near understanding how he must feel right now. "He's fine," Johnny interjected, knowing that face you made. "I hope so. We went from watching Netflix to this." You whisper. "It's Yuta, Y/N. He understands." He assured.

Now, here you were in a small but nicely decorated cafe on the outskirts of Daegu. It was Thursday morning, you weren't meeting potential Jaehyun until later this evening. But to take extra measures, you came by earlier to rent the cafe for the evening. Paying was generous. Johnny mentioned he'd be visiting his friend, and for you to fill him in on what went on tonight. He wasn't being selfish, leaving the work to you. It was more selfless than selfish. Johnny knows how much of a role Jaehyun paid to your life before and after.  So leaving your first meeting after ten years to just the two of you was all you could've asked for. "Excuse me! Ms.Seo?" The cafe owner calls for you. "Since your guest won't arrive until later tonight, why don't I make you some brunch?" She offers, "Please? Haven't eaten since last night," You two share a small laugh before she heads off into the kitchen.'You're early.' A shiver ran down your spine as you read the notification.  Jheez, couldn't Jaehyun just enter like a human and not some creepy pedophile. Came all the way from Seoul to see you, can't you be normal? 'Come in?' You hit send. Good thing you were meeting on a full stomach, or else you’d be a little over emotional. What’d he look like? Did he still had the shy boy persona? Or has he grown out of it? The questions that flooded your mind were interrupted by the chime of a bell, indicating someone has entered. “Y/N I missed you” 

Meanwhile, at Nakamoto Enterprises. "Jaehyun. Jaehyun. Jaehyun. Jaehyun." The name lingered Yuta's mind. Did he know him from somewhere? "Jungwoo!" He shouts for his assistant, who dashes in. "Yes?!" Yuta looks out the bay windows, contemplating his own move. "Jung Jaehyun. Who is he?" He asked, still gazing at the rainy window. "He is one of the three founders of JYX Co. He requested a meeting with you last month, something about investing." Jungwoo said, reading off the tablet in hand. Impossible. If he died, then why? He must've been trying to score a meeting with Yuta after hearing about his relationship with you. But that’s not where he knows Jaehyun from, is it? 

Sitting in an empty coffee shop with your proclaimed dead best friend was horrifying but still patched up a hole in that broken heart of yours. “Can’t believe it's you...” You said happily, towards Jaehyun. He grew. Going from the lanky fifteen-year-old to a well built and sophisticated man. After rekindling the friendship, he mentioned what happened that night. "Everything you heard is correct, I drove off the Banpo bridge." He started. "But I was pulled out by this older man by the shore. He took me in and brought me to his place in Daegu." He stops to look up at you. "So, you just decided to start new?" You ask. He nods. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring myself to come home. I'm sorry for what I put you through." He apologized. Though a regular person would've been fuming at the fact he just up and left. You were just relieved. "It's okay, Jae. You're here now." You smile, continuing. "I became a designer for you, and frankly, I'm loving it." He laughs, grasping your hand resting on the table. "I know, I've been keeping tabs on you." He confesses. "So, Nakamoto Yuta." He says, watching your cheeks redden. "What about him?" You huff, in a childish manner. "One year? When is he gonna put a damn ring on it?!" He joked, watching you cover your face. "I don't know..." You mumble, "Anyways, Johnny's at Minhyuk's place. Wanna go?" 

⋆

"I knew you sounded familiar," Yuta spoke, seeing Jaehyun walk-in with you this afternoon. "Huh?" What was he going on about? "That's the first thing you say when you see me? No 'I miss you'?" Jaehyun mused but laughed aloud when Yuta hands him a strawberry shake. "No, but is that enough?" He threw a wink, "Still remembering my favourite drink too, huh?" Jaehyun said. You stood behind, dumbfounded. "Hold on... You two know each other?" You question amazed. "Oh yea, Yuta was my roommate in uni." Yuta made his was beside you, making sure to give you a tight hug before a kiss, which made Jaehyun and Johnny gag. You sit on the large living room couch, Yuta's arm wrapped around you. Jaehyun on your other side, sharing a bag of chips with you. A film you were definitely not paying attention to playing on the screen, too distracted in your thoughts. Jaehyun was home. You were home in Yuta's arms. The two most important men back in your life. If you heard this was how you'd end up, you wouldn't believe it. The chances of getting together with Nakamoto Yuta. A name with millions of dollars tied to it, and finding your best friend again, Jaehyun, whom you thought was gone forever. Whatever you did in your past life, seriously paid off. 

This is my happily ever after.

[piraticalarchive]

okay so for everyone who hates big corporations and management who takes advantage of their employees.. this one’s for you. it’s long but .... i find it completely hilarious.

so a brief recap: amy got fired back in march from a huge international retailer, yes? when things first started like they were going south, i worked on really re establishing a relationship with my brother who is like one level below C-suite (cfo, ceo, etc etc) of that same company because i had an idea in mind. March rolls around, amy gets fired .. and I’m like .. okay. time to put this in motion. but stress and depression obviously took the motivation away from me, but i continued to keep that line of communication up with my brother. we started talking weekly, sometimes twice a week via an actual call. well, i’m finally feeling better .. so this week i finally put my plan in motion. here’s how it went

stage 1: i sent a text to my brother asking if i applied to the store in my area if i could use him as a reference. he said, of course but every store is hiring so i’d look at any store besides that one. (which is already fucking hilarious but i digress) ... so i call the store and one of the managers who sat in on amy’s firing answers when i ask to speak to someone involved in hiring (oh lucky day). I start off with “hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been looking for a job thats a bit of a change of scenery and my brother is the *insert position name* and works in *insert headquarters location* and he recommended i give the company a try despite that I had a less than stellar experience last time”. And this manager FALLS OVER telling me they are hiring for so many positions blah blah blah and then at the end when i’m like “thanks for the information! I’m definitely going to apply!” she’s like “of course! I’ll give our hiring manager your information so she can pull it immediately. Whats your name?” and i give my name and suddenly its just dead fucking silent... because they know who I am and they know that I’m in a relationship with amy and that i know what they did. But she recovers and is like ‘can’t wait to see your application!’ .. so.. okay. stage 1 was a success. but then, enter...

unexpected event: the store manager himself calls me. Starts off with some small talk, finally gets around to saying ‘so I hear you’d like to come back and work for us? I was looking at your previous application and I didn’t see any mention of the relation you talked about when you called”. And I’m like “oh, yeah... I don’t like using stuff like that because I’d prefer to get in on my own merit  and skills and not by a family member’s position. Plus its like that show undercover boss, you know? I get to see what the place is like before they know. BUT given with what happened to amy, I was unsure if I’d even be considered without a reference like that” and he laughs nervously and is like “i totally get it. So did anyone know that you had a brother in that position?” and I’m like “oh i mentioned it once in passing to [amy’s manger] but I just said my brother was in corporate and there are a lot of levels so i think he just left it at that” and the store manager is like ‘haha yeah different levels but thats like ... its own level...” and we talk a little bit and he’s like “what made you want to come back?” and I’m like “like i mentioned before, the amy thing really threw me off. I was angry and the good thing about siblings is you don’t have to sugarcoat stuff. So I went to my brother and was like this is how you treat people?? are you kidding?? what about job security?? and i sent him the picture amy had snapped of her discharge papers where it listed the reason and he told me that, and everything else I yelled at him about,  wasn’t the company’s way and that the store had seriously violated something. So for one, I now know that isn’t actually something that should have happened and  two, i inadvertently brought this store to corporate’s attention and there are a lot of good people who work here, and they don’t deserve the consequences of that, so I want to help make it right” and he’s fucking sweating yall, I can hear it over the phone. and he’s like “fill out your application and put whatever you want down and we’ll call you and talk about positions and we can find a way to give you what you want” and I’m like “oh, don’t tell me that nick because your chair is looking awfully good right now” and he did a nervous laugh. SO, unexpected event made my plan even better. Then we get to:

Stage 2: I apply. I check literally every management position, including the one they fired amy from and also some hourly positions and put down ridiculous hours. I pass the manager test with flying colors and when it asks why i said i want to be a team trainer i wrote down ‘thanks to knowing the home office, i know how things should work and I want to help this store raise its position in the district and I know what policies aren’t being followed to help make that raise smoother.” I submitted the application, called the first manager I had spoken to and told her I had done so and she was like “I’m sure we’ll give you a call tomorrow!” ‘Tomorrow’ came and by 7 that night, they hadn’t contacted me. So I went to the ‘we’re hiring’ image they had posted on their facebook page like an hour previously and tagged my brother and was like ‘dude this is one of the positions at my store i was telling you about. think i could pull it off?” AND BAM ! they sent me a request for a phone interview at 8am the next morning. I scheduled my interview for later that afternoon at 2:45 and we enter Stage 3.

Stage 3: Amy and I go to the store to pick up a few things. It’s suddenly fucking spotless. There are no gaps in the shelves, the floor has been cleaned since the last time we were there (monday night and i called them tuesday and it is now white and shiny as hell) and they have the lights turned up all the way so you can actually see. EVERY FUCKING AISLE is perfect. Cat food? perfect. Funko pops? stacked and lined up perfectly. Video games? Filled. Clearance aisle? Perfect order. Like its super obvious they did a mad dash and tried to get the store in shape. So amy and I walk down every single aisle and point things out and kind of put our heads together and talk and I take out my phone and act like i’m texting etc .. basically we’re just fucking with people’s heads because the managers are nearby and they can see what we’re doing. 

Stage 4: So later we’re home and 2:45 comes and goes with NO word. No phone call, no email, no hey can we reschedule. they FORGOT about the interview. I’m dying because they’re making it even better and even easier to fuck with them. So I text my brother (who KNOWS my mental health has been in the trash) and I’m like “I filled out an application just to see and they set up an interview and blew me off. You were right .. not a great help when it comes to the blues” and he was like “yep...i’d look at literally any other store” and talked to me a bit more about it. He was irritated that they’d do that and kept saying they were on thin ice.  Finally at 5 they text me and they’re like “hey, this is the [insert store] and we’re sorry we missed your interview. I wanna apologize. Can we reschedule?” And I wait like an hour and a half (i was napping, i’ll admit it) but I respond with “I apologize for the late response, I had a prior commitment I had to take care of. Unfortunately, I reached out to someone [they know who it is. they know]  in the off chance I had misunderstood the process since I hadn’t heard from you guys and I was encouraged to pursue opportunities at other branches in the area. Thank you for the original consideration and I hope you have a great day!” and they waited until 11am the next day to reply back which I’m assuming is because they were waiting for the higher up management to return to the store.

Come to find out the managers are still basically pissing themselves and freaking out because not only did they a) fire someone against company policy and now know the people at the top know and b) drop the ball and forget to interview a family member of said people at the top ... I got to add salt in the wound one more time by mentioning that my brother dropped in a lot (he doesn’t) and that I’d love to show off the store since it’s such a huge part of the community and it was looking better than I’d ever seen it look. And that it would be nice because he’d get the real experience since it wasn’t a formal, announced visit .... but, of course, that he’s salary .. so the policy is that he’s always ‘at work’ and obligated to take note of things.

so basically, i feel justified. Six and a half months of careful planning and maneuvering was totally justified. 10/10, I’d do it again. Let this be a lesson that patience in planning vengeance is completely worth having and I hope I helped make the store better for employees who aren’t management by putting the fear of god into them with the idea that my brother or anyone else from his office can just drop the fuck in whenever they want with a totally casual visit that could still fuck the management over completely. This is a good week, mates .. a very good week. Am I petty? yes. Do i hate their guts and feel like it was an entertainment that was totally worth it given what they did to the love of my life? also yes.

[diavolodigitale]

L’appel Du Vide: 00 Despicable Him

It took me a whole goddamn year to finally win the fight I fought against myself and start posting this story. I have 7 complete chapters written already but now cannot seem to find the strength to continue, so I was hoping releasing it into the world would give me a nice boost. Anyway, my friends enjoyed the story so if in reality it turns out to be bad, it’s obviously their fault, not mine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Rhys is the CEO of Atlas and Jack's AI is back, surprise, surprise! Now Rhys is dismayed, Jack doesn't care much, and the events of Borderlands 3 are just beginning to unravel. Is there any way to fix the plot of this game? Would it be any better if Rhys had to cooperate with Jack this whole time? Well, this is your chance to find out!

Spoiler: yes, dammit, it would. Everything's better with a bit of Handsome Jack in it.

Genres: Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Alternate Canon, POV Third Person, Humor, Drama, Plot-driven (kind of? well, it has plot)

Pairing: Handsome Jack’s AI/Rhys (this is only the 1st chapter so don’t expect much yet)

Characters: Handsome Jack’s AI, Rhys

Rating: M for Mature but not in this chapter lol

Size: around 2500 words (chapter 1/11)

Rhys’s office was great. He liked to sit in his big executive’s chair and dreamily look outside instead of doing the paper work. The view was also great. Well, kind of.

What did not seem so great, however, was the war he had been recently dragged into by the Maliwan corporation. He didn’t like being involuntarily involved into global affairs, especially those that had something to do with fusions or takeovers. The situation his company was in was bothering him at the moment, so he took a deep thoughtful breath and continued staring into the window.

“Hey, kiddo,” said the voice of somebody who definitely could not be in Rhys’s office neither at this given moment nor at any other time. Rhys was almost sure in his sanity so he proceeded to ignore the not-uttered words, although he, for some unknown reason, became visibly shaken.

“He-e-ey,” said the voice with those familiar little notes of annoyance that would let the hearer know that the person speaking clearly didn’t like being ignored.

A half-transparent blue hand waved in front of Rhys’s face, and he totally lost it.

Still somehow managing to remain seated in his chair, Rhys jerked back and rolled right through the blue figure formerly standing behind him.

“Wha…” muttered Rhys, barely able to speak at all, “Jack? What are you… I mean, how… I mean, is that really you?”

“Calm down, Rhysie,” said Jack with the same smug expression on his face – perhaps, the only thing that was unchangeable apart from his self-confidence, principles, self-esteem, disrespect for the others, sly nature, and, well, many, many other things really. “I get it, you’re happy to see me, but gosh, have some self-respect!”

Rhys was still confused, so after a few seconds of silence Jack felt the need to add, “Of course, it’s me”.

“But I thought you’re…”

“Dead? Gone? Dead and gone?” Jack clicked his tongue three times. “I thought, you knew me better, Rhysie. I thought, you’d welcome me with your arms wide open. Are you not happy to see me?”

“I am,” Rhys started nodding zealously and clenched his fists tight, hoping that Jack wouldn’t notice he was shaken. “But I don’t understand. What happened…”

“What happened was a mistake. I was gone for a while, but now I’m here to stay.” Jack leaned towards Rhys’s face and smiled. It was in no way an amiable smile. His glowing eyes reminded those of a vulture watching his prey. He already started to smell fear in the air.

“And where exactly is here?” asked Rhys with the last glimmer of hope fading from his voice. More than anything now he wished for the story not to repeat itself, but it was not like he had a choice or something.

Jack only tapped on Rhys’s temple with his index finger and leaned back. Rhys didn’t feel the touch but the gesture itself made him uncomfortable. He knew what it meant, unfortunately.

Jack jumped onto the table of the CEO of Atlas and crossed his legs and arms, waiting.

Rhys swallowed loudly. This was not great at all. He was sure his head was clear from this phantom and there was nothing to worry about. He was sure he would never again be convinced to go against his nature and pursue the world domination. Or any kind of domination. He was sure, but whenever it came to Jack, he was a defeatist.

“This can’t be true. I don’t believe you came back. I must’ve hit my head or I’m just seeing things…” Rhys’s voice quavered in disbelief when he spoke.

“Now-now, honey, no need to worry so much. You know I don’t like it when you wince, it makes you look older. Seeing me here must make you feel sorry for what you’ve done, but you should know that I don’t hold any grudge. Actually, I’m kida proud of you, you know. It only proves I was right all along,” said Jack roguishly. His manner of speech made his words sound benign, as if he was forgiving sins during the confession. Rhys was still not buying it.

“I did what I had to, what you made me do! If anything, it was YOUR fault, YOU betrayed me, so don’t you try making ME responsible for everything! I don’t know what kind of mind game this is, but I know you can’t be here.”

As Jack opened his mouth to yet again say something pricky, Rhys, still sitting in his chair and tightly gripping its arms, yelled at top of his lungs, “Begone! Begone, foul apparition!”.

The apparition sat on the table, sandbagged and with a dropped jaw, for a few moments and then uttered “Wow. Just wow. I’ve always known you’re weird, but this is just… wow. Are you on drugs or something? I’m not judging, you just seem really… deranged? I wanna say deranged, but I’m not sure it’s the right word.”

Rhys snuffled resentfully and looked at Jack with a brooding expression on his face. “You won’t go?” he asked, not really hoping anymore.

“Nope, kiddo. Everything’s gonna be just like the good old times – me as a hero and you as a… as a… I dunno, a less attractive sidekick?” Rhys quietly sighed, holding his head in his hands. “We’re gonna hang out, kill bandits, save the world, and I will always, always be at your side. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I killed you, Jack. I destroyed you. I ripped you out of my body, tore you apart and threw you away from my memory. Nothing’s gonna be the same anymore, you know that.”

“No, Rhys, I was killed by some OTHER goddamn crappy bags of… ugh, I’m not even gonna bother with that. You and me just had a misunderstanding. Often happens between two forceful promising personalities, like between me and the previous Hyperion CEO. Oh, wait, no,”–Jack scratched his head and furrowed his eyebrows–“no, I killed him, that’s a bad example. Anyway, you know what I mean.”

“I smashed my fucking arm to get rid of you! You,”–Rhys pointed his cybernetic finger at Jack–“are the only one who is insane here if you think that’s nothing. We both know what we did, Jack. Whatever you want, I’m not helping you. The last time I tried, you took control of me and tried to end my life.”

Jack’s expression turned from stolid to menacing as fast as gray clouds cover the sun and it starts raining in summer. He wanted to be good, he really believed that he did.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” he hissed at Rhys. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me to. No matter how much I don’t want to admit it, I’m dependent on you, you little whiny coward, so do me a favor – be a good boy and listen to what daddy has to say. You kept your eye implant, didn’t you? Don’t even try arguing with me, I know you did. It was your decision to leave it be, so it’s you who brought me here. I’m grateful for that and I promise not to be nasty. No taking over bodies and no homicidal tendencies. Well, at least when it comes to you, pumpkin.”

“…Okay,” fumbled Rhys. Even though he didn’t believe this was really the case, he knew disputing with Jack never solved anything anyway. ���Although… I didn’t really use the chip afterwards. I don’t know how you’ve found out I had kept it, but I surely wasn’t that stupid so as to put it back into my head after what you had done. I really want to know how you’ve managed to–”

“We all have our secrets, Rhysie. But enough about me, let’s talk about you.” Jack gave Rhys a wink. “How’ve ya been? Must admit, I fell out of the loop and now need an update,” he said petulantly. Now he was idly looking around as if he had lost all interest in what was happening.

Rhys decided to let go of his worries for now. If he couldn’t make Jack talk, his only option was to gain his trust once again and find out how he survived. Or if he did at all. Just be composed, not the worst scenario you’ve ever been in, he said to himself.

“Um, actually, I’m great. This is my office and… We’re doing fantastically if you disregard the fact that we’re at war with Maliwan and currently I am occupied with this new–”

“Yeah-yeah, okay, what was there about a war? I don’t remember Maliwan scum being at least somehow dangerous. How did you even manage to mess this up?”

Rhys stood up from his huge chair, arms akimbo, eyes disdainfully narrowed, and went on with his story, affronted and even a little peevish.

“As I was saying, I’m working on a new plan right now. At this point I’m pretty fed up with Katagawa, this new CEO of Maliwan,”–definitely peevish right now–“Oh, in fact, I just hate him so much!”–now even irate–“The day he murdered all his siblings, he just mobilized his fleet and went straight to my planet! Who in the right mind does that? Could’ve sent a message at least. Anyway,”–Rhys hid his hands into his pockets and sunk back into his chair, having lost all his righteous anger–“he wants our corporations to merge, to fuse, as he says, to become one.” The irritation on Jack’s face was becoming more distinct with every word Rhys said. “He wants me to sign the deal and share my developments with him, can you believe it? That greedy bastard!”

“Proposals like that don’t just come out of nowhere. Seems like he’s been watching you. This Katagawa guy, what does he offer you in return? Money, contacts, tech?”

“Himself, I guess,” said Rhys without any second thought.

“What?” asked Jack contemptuously. He was already close to seeing red. Rhys forgot how it worked with him.

“He said we would become partners, but I think it’s all lies to make it seem pretty. I suspect he will simply take control of Atlas and our new shiny guns, and all my work will be wasted.”

“I see, no one can trick our Rhysie,” said Jack, grinning. “Thank god, at least some good news.”

“That’s right!” said Rhys, perhaps, more enthusiastically than he should have. “No one,” he added more quietly. Except for you, you snake, muttered the inner voice inside his head.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something this whole time. Funny how I really haven’t been here for long, but you know. May I?”

Jack’s incisive manner of speech was absent, so Rhys took his guard down for a moment, getting the feeling that this conversation was like one of those they used to have before – unbraced and at times even innocuous.  

“I know what’s on your mind, Jack,” he said, heartfelt and certain.

“You do?” Jack undoubtfully seemed surprised at his interlocutor’s insight.

“Yes. I’ve noticed how you look at me and I know exactly what you want to ask.” Rhys made himself more comfortable in the chair, crossed his legs and sat straight, in a more business-like manner. “This,”–he made a vague hand gesture around the area of his mouth–“is a siege mustache. Shh, let me finish, you can’t say anything I haven’t heard about it before. My troops love it, and as a good commander, I do what I can to boost morale on the battlefield. Of course, I don’t go out there, but they are happy enough when they see my hologram. A-a-and, now you can talk. I guess. If you want to. By the way, I don’t care if you hate it, it’s my face so–”

“You know what? I love it. Love it. Never thought I would say that, but I am saying it right now, so here you are. The second rule of a successful boss – do what the fuck you wanna do with your face. The first one is murder the previous boss, of course.”

“Really?” gingerly asked Rhys, who, in reality, had never heard anything good about his poor moustache.

“Really. But I must upset you, Rhysie. This is not what was bothering me. You see, there’s this other little thing, pretty close in its significance to your moustache.”

“Oh,” uttered Rhys nonchalantly, “what is it?”

“Hyperion. What’s with it? What’s with MY Hyperion, Rhysie?”

At the sound of that very word Rhys hunched in his chair and felt as if he was reducing in size under Jack’s cold gaze.

“After what had happened… the Helios was destroyed and everything collapsed and…”

Rhys sat silent, not able to go on, and this was the last thing he should’ve done. Jack was not in the mood for such a behavior.

“Look me square in my fucking translucent eyes, Rhys, and tell me – what is with my Hyperion?” yelled Jack.

He still sat on the table quite far from Rhys, but it seemed like the room suddenly shrunk and he was right in front of him. Jack was a ghost, a phantom, not able to do anything, not able to inflict any damage or even touch him, but Rhys sensed the danger. No matter in what form, Handsome Jack was still Handsome Jack.

“I don’t know. I guess, somebody took control of it after I left. The weapons are still being manufactured, but I didn’t bother to find out who was the next in line after Helios was… after I destroyed Helios.”

Rhys exhaled loudly and averted his eyes from Jack. Oh, yes, making Jack angry is much easier than making him proud, how could I forget, he thought.

“I see. I didn’t doubt for a second you would do that to infuriate me. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’d rather be disappointed. But you know what? It doesn’t matter now. Now we’re bonding,” Jack sucked the air through his teeth, “now we’re rebuilding what was destroyed like a family we are. Isn’t that great? Look at us, two best buddies exchanging the latest news.”

“And you promised not to be nasty this time...?” Rhys made a feeble attempt to save himself and remind Jack about the terms under which he was allowed to accompany him.

“Yes, Rhysie, and you know damn well I keep my promises.”

And he did. But only when he promised to kill somebody.

[sleep-i-ness]

My Saviour (Tony Stark x reader)

Blurb: Y/N is going to die. That she’s sure of. Now is the wait, ten feet under a collapsed building, waiting for it to finally give way.

Prompts: “I am being extremely clever up here and there’s no one to stand around looking impressed. What’s the point in having you all?” 

CW: Mentions of death and dying, injury

A/N: This is my entry for @thefanficfaerie​‘s writing challenge, I am so sorry it’s late! Back to school and all that

The ceiling’s about to go. You need to get out of there NOW. Everything changes the mission Y/N thinks she’s going to die. Sure, there had been a few close calls every now and then but never like this. Trapped under a collapsed 7-storey building, with dust still settling around her and ominous creaks echoing around the small space. And, how could she forget, with the team’s biggest ego for company.

The day started early, if she could even say ‘started’ when Stark had kept her up in the labs with him, well past her usual bedtime. Cap had tried to insist, yet again, that she joined him on his ‘invigorating’ morning jog, despite the fact that she had nowhere near the stamina of a super soldier and that she was running on eleven cups of black coffee (adding milk had ended up taking too much time when the exhaustion was kicking in again) and spite. Her spite, she decided, was what was going to get her out of this mess.

At the bright and early time of 10am, Stark had stumbled out of his bedroom, having actually gone to bed instead of being pressured into joining a training session. Well, he didn’t really need to train; the suit was his manpower. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t need to keep in shape, other than to pick up women at whatever posh event he went to. Which was unfortunately never kept a secret from her, as for some reason, whilst her floor (why did she need a whole bloody floor?) was being decorated/renovated, she was in a room directly adjacent to Stark’s. One thing he’d apparently forgotten to invest in was soundproofing.

Soon after Stark had deigned to join them at their Team Breakfast, which, according to Rogers, was an Important Bonding Session, Fury had decided to give them a call. And with Fury it was never a catch-up call, which would be nice, once in a while, now that she thought about it. Or maybe not, she dreaded seeing the man for mission briefings, she wasn’t sure if he had the capability of acting like a normal human. Oh God. Imagine Fury having brunch. She wasn’t sure if her hysterical thought stream was due to the dust fumes, lack of oxygen, undiagnosed claustrophobia kicking in, or perhaps a torturous combination of all three.

Anyway, this impromptu call was due to a SHIELD mission that had gone sideways and so the Avengers were being called in to clean up the mess. Well, considering their track record, she had been betting that more mess would be made than sorted out. It was meant to be a smallish HYDRA base with few soldiers, but more than the agents already sent in were able to handle. All she could say was that wherever Fury got his information from was seriously wrong and he needed to reconsider his sources.

Stark had groaned when the mission had come up, already complaining that they weren’t the clean-up team. He had waved at the mission file onscreen, gestured again for dramatic effect and then settled into making snide remarks for the rest of the briefing. As usual. She had an inkling that Stark just really liked the sound of his own voice or was compensating for something with sarcastic comments.

At least Steve got to use his catchphrase, yet again. ‘Avengers Assemble!’ Which was quickly wearing old and she had tried to suggest something else. Like “Let’s Get Dressed!” or “Mission Muster!”, but neither had quite the ring and, to be honest, she’d just run the original through a synonym generator. God, if any of their fans heard her complaints, she was sure she’d be butchered alive in a riveting ‘debate’ on Twitter. Apparently, they liked the cheesiness.

The first spot of bother they’d gotten into, or, well, Y/N had gotten into, was when she’d found out that her suit hadn’t finished downloading the upgrades so she would have to use her original. Her original consisted of a latex and Kevlar suit that she’d hand-stitched together. That had been back when she’d first realised that she could actually make a difference in the shitty area of town she lived in. Spares weren’t a thing for the Avengers and Stark had made sure to mock its ‘home-made chic’ feel. Well, not everyone headed a multimillion-dollar corporation when they decided to become a ‘hero’.

She still wouldn’t describe herself as a hero. She was just a girl who, instead of getting a prison sentence for aggravated assault and destruction of property, had been picked up by SHIELD. They’d seen something in her that she’d never once seen looking back at her in the mirror. After months of training and little missions, she’d been chucked headfirst into the dark stuff, fucked up a psych eval and ended up being pulled from field duty. Barton had trained with her while they were both out of active duty and vouched for her once he’d been cleared, jeopardising his job as an agent and an Avenger, for her, which she couldn’t thank him more for. Fury, not knowing what to do for once, had shoved her into a team that was only just starting to bond with each other. They hadn’t needed a barely-adult, not psych-cleared agent pushed into their hands. But they’d taken her in without complaint all the same.

The second spot of bother was the hundred or so men who had been firing at them from all angles, not the expected twenty or thirty. Stark had flown in and gunned ten or so down in his bulletproof suit, but even that hadn’t been enough to make the fight easy. Barton was perched up a tree, true to his nickname as usual, and was taking out man after man, but one replaced the other as soon as they fell.  

And because all things come in threes, there had been a third spot of bother. It had been when the control room collapsed due to an exploding arrow that Barton had refused to admit to, and the central structure’s integrity had been compromised. She had gone in on the intelligence gathering mission and the stupid program had completed 84% of the download. So, she had assured her teammates that she’d wait for it to finish and then get the fuck out of there. But she hadn’t had time. And so that brought her up to now, in a tiny space, feeling more and more squashed by the minute. Rubble clattered down above her every so often and the space would gradually shift as the weight on top of it increased. She just hoped SHIELD found her before she was completely crushed. If they were even looking for them.

“Y/N?” Stark’s voice was hoarse from the dust, even his suit must’ve been unable to filter it all out. She frowned; she was sure that it had its own oxygen supply. Perhaps it had been damaged when he’d zoomed in as the building collapsed around them, professing that he would save her. Fat lot of good he’d been. As the floor had caved in beneath her feet and the ceiling collapsed simultaneously, he hadn’t even reached her before she’d fallen in the sinkhole that had opened up. She’d always said that constructing a tall building on top of earth riddled with secret passages was just asking for trouble.

“Yes?” Irritation bled through as she tried to keep her tone civil and sweet, but the circumstances were definitely not ideal for her mood. And she’d had barely any sleep. Which was arguably thanks to him, and no, she still hadn’t forgiven him for it.

“Okay, good, just checking you were alive.”

She rolled her eyes at that answer. What if she’d been unconscious? She’d still be alive. No need to pester her just for that. “Well, how are you going to get us out of here?”

Stark was silent. For once in his life, he finally had nothing to say. She would applaud herself on such an accomplishment, but she was busy trying not to lose her temper. He was meant to be the genius, the one with a plan for everything, and she knew that was a lot of pressure to put on him. But she’d really like to believe that she wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for him.

“I’m…” He hesitated, light flickering feebly through the rocks between them. “Having some difficulties with the suit. JARVIS, why don’t you tell her?”

The monotonous voice came through clearly, albeit a bit tinny over the speakers. Although she’d read plenty about the AI when creating her own suit and then promptly dismissed the idea that she would ever be able to do the same, it was still weird how omniscient he seemed. It made her skin crawl, the idea that she had no privacy, even in her own bedroom. “Suit’s capabilities are down by 62%. Weapons status – missiles offline, repulsors limited power. Damage has been sustained severely on the chest piece as well as the helmet and left shin pieces.”

Her mouth dropped; she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Sure, a damaged chest piece she could’ve guessed, because that would have affected the suit’s oxygen supply, but the power source must have also been damaged. “Can you clear some more space, or get us into the same area? Maybe if we can access the equipment that was in the control room…”

“On it. JARVIS, scan the rubble for equipment and structurally sound areas.”

From where she was sat, nothing seemed to be happening. Even the lights from his suit had dimmed considerably, causing her to squint to try and make out various shapes in the fallen rock. The almost silent creaking around her were amplified in the darkness and she shivered, a cold trickle of dread running down her spine. She’d always hated just waiting for something to happen, knowing that it was going to but not when or how.

The raspy static of comms was incessant in her ear as she strained to hear of any movement or updates on their situation from Stark’s position. Nothing. God, she hoped he hadn’t been physically injured. She forgot that he was just a man beneath all that metal. Nothing superhuman or enhanced or specially trained from too sheng of an age.

“Y/N.” Stark’s voice was urgent and low, a light hiss through the dust filled air. “There’s someone else down here. JARVIS is detecting enough of a heat signature for them to still be alive.”

A gentle groan made her freeze, hair prickling on the back of her neck. She turned her head ever so slightly to the left, peering into the pitch-black darkness. Blinking furiously, she soon realised that there was no difference between when her eyes were shut and open.

“Hello?” A familiar voice called out and she sighed, face relaxing from its grimace.

“Barton?”

“Y/N? I thought you got out?” He coughed, wheezing dust and she winced at the harsh sound, chest clenching painfully in sympathy.

She chuckled bitterly, “Yeah, nope, Tony also got stuck down here.”

A loud thump startled her, rubble tumbling down as a metal support beam snapped under the strain of the weight. Inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm her mounting nerves, she curled her arms over her head, hoping that she’d survive this. Time seemed to slow as the seconds, minutes, possibly even hours ticked by. Nothing more to do than ponder the situation and any and every scenario that could come of it.

Crash. She jolted as the ground beneath her trembled, sucking in a quick breath. This was it. This was the end. Closing her eyes, she sent out a prayer to whatever god was out there, anyone who could help her. Hoping it would be swift and painless.

Cool metal brushed against her face, and her eyes flashed open. The icy white glow lit up the dust-filled air in front of her and she choked back a sob of relief, pressing a hand over her mouth. Tony shushed her softly as he heaved a large slab of stone out of the way, sending tiny particles of rock down onto her. They bounced off her face and she whimpered, biting down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood.

The shredded metal of his arms slid under her, catching at her clothes as he pulled her into his chest. Cradling her in his arms, he plodded into a spacious cavern, each step followed by creaking joints. The stone was cold against her back as he propped her against the central mound, her head lolling back.

He popped his visor open, eyes lit by a blue glow as he stared at her intently, a flicker of worry dancing behind his eyes. “Are you okay?”

She was sure that he’d already asked her that but couldn’t find it in herself to bite a remark at him. In fact, she couldn’t even remember why she’d been so pissed off at him before, her annoyance swept away by the pure elation of still being alive.

“I’m fine.” At his sceptical look, she sighed. Nothing was broken or injured too badly, although she hadn’t really had time to think hard enough about it. That was all that was necessary. “Don’t worry about me, Tin Man, focus on getting us out of here. You need to help Barton out first.”

Before too long, Tony had returned, placing Clint down beside her. She knelt over him, guided by the light from Tony’s suit and held back a gasp. Brushing hair off of his pale and sweaty face, her nimble fingers ran over the bruised and battered flesh of his leg and she grimaced. He hissed at the sharp stabbing pain, the ghostly touch still too much pressure.

“Is that what heaven’s like? What did I do right to get a girl as pretty as you looking after me?” Clint’s words were slurred as he tried to crack a grin and ease her worries. She chuckled, as Tony clomped round to see what was happening.

“Don’t be getting too comfortable, Barton. Anyone can get a squashed leg.” Tony’s words were snide, and she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Stop it.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Tony protested. She could hear the pout in his voice.

“Go work on getting us out of here.” For the first time since the beginning of the mission, she felt hope. She knew it was a dangerous emotion. It had been ingrained deep into her mind that hope was dangerous, that it should be stifled. But she wanted to believe that Tony would find them a way out, that they wouldn’t die with only each other for company in a deep, dark cavern, waiting for the ceiling to collapse on them.

The sharp scraping of metal against metal as he moved away was painful and she winced. His suit was in a bad state, but she hoped it would last the whole ordeal.

Clint’s rambling startled her from her thoughts. “You really look like an angel, Y/N. Maybe this is God’s gift for this injury.”

“Yeah, well, next time you want my attention, you don’t have to go this far,” she laughed, wiping the grime that had settled into his skin. “My standards aren’t so high that I need a guy to have injuries severe enough to possibly warrant amputation.”

Clint groaned painfully, before trying to play it off. “You mean, I didn’t have to do all this. Well, darn it.” She laughed again, giving him a sympathetic grin as he winced yet again. His leg was a blotchy mess of colours and she swallowed harshly.

She jumped as Tony’s voice echoed around the cavern. “I am being extremely clever up here and there’s no one to stand around looking impressed. What’s the point in having you all?” She grinned up at where he stood. Under his blindingly-fast fingers was what had turned out to be the main console, and she assumed he was rerouting message signals and finding a secure escape route. “Well, I’ve found us a way out. But I’ll only take you if you promise not to flirt so sickeningly.”

“Stark, are you jealous?” Clint’s incredulous voice came from beside her, tinged with agony.

Tony scoffed, his face disappearing into darkness as the blue light from the screens shut off. “No. As if.”

“Well,” she piped up, noting with delight how Tony’s head snapped towards her. “Tony, let me just warn you that you don’t need to get your leg squashed if you want my attention. I don’t need another injury on my conscience.”

“Aw, no, there goes my plan on how to win you over. Come on, I’ll carry Robin Hood and you follow me.”

The route was a dingy corridor that was lit by flickering electric bulbs that looked as if they hadn’t been replaced since the 40s. “Soft light incandescent bulbs.” Tony had noted as she passed under the first ones.

By the time she had reached the manhole cover that signalled the exit of the seemingly-endless tunnel, she weren’t sure if her legs would be able to support her much further. The startlingly bright light streaming into the tunnel made her smile, a great beaming grin as she felt the sun on her face after what had felt like days.

“Come on, sweetheart. Up you come. I’ve already signalled the team, and they’re on their way. We just need to sit tight for a bit.” Tony hauled her up, next to where Clint lay, leg even more gruesome in the light. She stumbled on the uneven ground, falling forward as her foot caught on a loose stone.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her into him. She grinned up at Tony and leant against his chest plate, relaxing into the arm that he slung around her. 

“My saviour,” she giggled, suddenly anxious at their close proximity. She didn’t know why. She’d never felt so antsy in his presence before, but something about the way he was looking at her made her heart beat faster and her breath stop.

“So,” Tony let out a nervous breath. “I know I didn’t get injured for you, but how about we still go on a date at some point?”

She smiled softly. “I’d love that.”

-

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[angstylittlecatboy]

Thought dump about cars and their community, from a voyeuristic perspective of someone with no driver's license

[TW: term with racist (anti Asian) roots]

My dad owned a Bricklin SV-1 for most of my life and let me tell you, reading stupid car community comments has given me a new appreciation for the things. "Safety doesn't mean uncool" was the idea. It was unsuccessful, Bricklins aren't iconic and are generally thought of as shitty, but I appreciate that someone was trying to prove selfish assholes wrong in the 70s.

The car community is the only hobby community where I understand why it's overwhelming conservative to some extent tbh; the liberals are impeding on their fun. It's not an excuse (I hate conservatives more than most liberals and leftists do, I guarantee you) but it's about the only place where conservatism within it isn't either random or psyop-driven. It's driven by a worry that advancing technology, EVs, safety regulations, self driving, will take their hobby away from them. Not unfounded, IMO; "daily driver" cars have way less of what car enthusiasts like about cars than they used to with automation doing so much for you, and safety regulations at the very least have made cars look less cool and unique (though, aerodynamics plays an equal part in that.)

That said...no, your hobby is not more important than pedestrian safety or the fucking planet we all have to live on, you coal-rolling ass-bastard. Pop up headlights are cool, but you can't prioritize "cool" over "human lives" (with enthusiasts clamoring for em, I'm surprised they have yet to make them in a way that doesn't run afoul of regulations; they're not directly banned.) And while enthusiasts are probably a drop in the bucket in terms of emissions, the ICE should not stay around because you don't like the feel of EVs. And yes, we should have more available public transit and walkable cities (I actually think this might help car enthusiasts; motorcycles do not need to cater to non-enthusiasts because nobody who isn't an enthusiast owns a motorcycle. If very few commutes [I don't think they can be completely eliminated because some jobs need them] required a personal vehicle, it would require the car companies to make cool cars because the enthusiasts would be all the buyers) because even though their lifetime EVs have less emissions than an ICE car, the manufacturing process still has sky high emissions.

I cannot sign onto self driving cars though. I used to, but the sketchy cabal of private corporations known as "big tech" is running them and they'd likely have the effect of reducing use of public transit which is bad for the environment. They're safer I guess. I'm for their use in public transportation (trolley buses are better for the environment but lack flexibility often needed for bus routes) but I'd rather not see everyone own a personal one.

My limited understanding of EVs is that they're moddable despite what ICE diehards think, but it's a different skillset, and RC car people and computer engineers are more equipped for it than ICE auto engineers. There's also less to mod because EVs are less complex machines, and a lot of the mods that can be done are software which doesn't appeal to people who like working with their hands. The introduction of DRM and mandatory firmware updates before you can drive is fucked, but you can blame Elon Musk for introducing the Apple model to cars, not the EV concept itself. If Tesla were just a somehow hypersuccessful gas car company that did this the other companies would probably follow suit too. Trust me, tech guys hate Apple's influence because of shit like this. I hope right to repair is bipartisan, it fits the "freedom" ideals of the right and the pro environment ideals of the left. In general I think EVs try too hard to be futuristic, give me one that's just like an '00s shitbox such as the Saturn SL, but electric please. Okay maybe not that far back idk just don't make the entire center console including AC and radio controls a bigass tablet, give me tactile because I can use tactile without looking at it, it's safer. Also apparently EVs can have manual transmission, no idea how that works

And also, I feel car people forget that most people don't love cars. They're appliances to most people. You'd love a car where everything is manual and you do it all yourself, but most people just want to get to work comfortably and alive. Don't expect car companies to cater to you beyond one or two models, unless they're a performance car only manufacturer like Ferrari or Caterham.

I think the fact that Zoomers and Millennials don't have money has shrunken the hobby at that. Cars are an expensive hobby, and most young people don't have money for a car that they want, only the bland econo-SUV or econo-truck that they need, and that's why cool cars like the Lancer Evolution get discontinued. Forza Horizon should probably be the kind of boon to the car community's numbers that Gran Turismo, Need For Speed, and Fast and Furious were in the 90s and 00s. But nobody can afford a cool car.

I recently realized how much I like Miatas. I feel they represent me well. Small, cute, and feminine, but far from edgeless and not family-friendly, and very pro-mod. If I could have any car it'd be a Miata. The EV Miata if it's a full EV and they somehow nail it (keep it lightweight) it'd represent me better because I'm quiet. I will never have a Miata. Because I can't justify a vehicle, and if I could it'd probably have to be an SUV econobox even though I dislike how many SUVs and trucks I see on the road (they represent the American impulse to make everything BIG because BIG is POWERFUL and MANLY. The opposite of a Miata.) But SUVs do be more practical than a small convertible two seat coupe that will cost me more in insurance. My brother who has never particularly liked cars said he wanted a truck so people can call on him. I guess he really is less selfish than me, who wants a two door convertible because I think it fits my image. And yeah, he is. I can try and fail to be selfless to someone I truly like which is almost nobody, but I'm ultimately selfish, at the most selfless I just want a friend's smile. I care about my ingroup I guess. But then again my brother wants a car because of freedom where I believe the selfless option is not having an automobile, particularly since public transit is good here, because automobile manufacture, gas, and electricity all cause emissions to some degree

I really dislike the community's hate of "ricers" (cars with only aesthetic mods, especially if they're either extremely flamboyant or imitate race cars without any actual performance parts) because bruh, performance mods are every bit as impractical as rice. Racing is not important, you both do what you do for fun unless you're the well under 1% who races professionally. I know some just dislike race inspired rice which is more understandable because pedigree or something, but ultimately what does it matter? I know some people try to pretend they're racers with riced cars and that's cringe but like...just don't posture bro. I've heard the hatred of ricers is mostly an American thing but idk.

idk I think I could get into cars but it's prohibitively expensive I don't like the community and i low-key think it's an immoral hobby

yeah ive been playing forza horizon

[dracusfyre]

Missed this when you first posted it, so, belated but: #12 from the 50 kisses list? any pairing is fine

The prompt from the prompt list was “ Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss,” and I went with winteriron (surprise!). Setting is CA:TFA meets Iron Man Noir. :D  (Also on AO3) As a warning the set up took 3k words, which probably explains why I am constitutionally incapable of writing PWPs.

----

Bucky watched Steve leave with the lady in red – Agent Carter, Steve had called her – and felt the sour taste of jealousy on his tongue. Turning away, he downed the rest of his glass of cheap rotgut whiskey and gestured for the bartender to give him another. He hated that Carter hadn’t given him so much as a glance, and he hated that Steve had followed her without question, leaving him alone here at the bar, and he hated himself for caring about either; he should be happy for his friend, shouldn’t he, be happy that he was big and strong, America’s golden boy, a lady’s man, able to jump tall buildings in a single bound. A hero. “From zero to hero,” all the newspapers were saying. Meanwhile Bucky was what? Steve’s buddy, his pal, his childhood friend. Not Sergeant Barnes, a rank he’d earned through being the best goddamn sharpshooter in boot camp and being the most well-respected corporal in his unit when their last sergeant got blown to hell. Meanwhile Steve’s a captain, since presumably “Private America” or “Lieutenant America” didn’t have the same ring to it.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, grinding his palms into his eyes. This was what he was talking about. When had he become so bitter? He felt full of broken edges inside, jagged and vicious; maybe they’d pumped him full of poison there on that table, and that’s why Bucky felt like vitriol would come spilling out of him at any moment. He wished there was someone to fight right now, wished for the roar of artillery to drown out these thoughts and a bayonet in his hands so he could have some place for these feelings to go instead of building up inside him like a head of steam. His hands fell away from his eyes and he picked up the whiskey again, draining half of the glass in one go and hissing at the burn.

“Hope you’re drinking the cheap stuff if you’re going to chug it,” a voice said from beside him. Bucky jerked, because he hadn’t even noticed that someone had sat down and that’s a good way to get killed, isn’t it? Even here in jolly old London, jolly old safe London, home of Agent Carter, far from the guns and bombs and needles and lasers-

“Hey,” the voice said again, “are you with me?”

Bucky pulled his gaze from his whiskey and dragged it to the man next to him. The man was watching him with bright blue eyes that were sharp but not unkind; he had a hard time meeting those eyes, so he looked back down at the bar instead. “Whaddaya want?” Bucky asked gruffly.

“Good question,” the man said thoughtfully. Out of the corner of his eye Bucky saw him scratch his chin. “World peace comes to mind right now,” he said, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “A good old American hamburger is on the list,” boy could Bucky sympathize with that, “but for right now, I was mostly really curious why you look like your dog died when everyone else is just celebrating the fact that they’re alive.”

“Well, there’s your answer,” Bucky said, still staring at the bar. The truth was tumbling out of his mouth and Bucky couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. It was fucked up, he knew that, but Bucky had used up all of his ability to pretend everything was ok on Steve. “I guess I don’t have anything to celebrate.” He punctuated that with another swallow of whiskey and wished he’d start getting drunk already.

“You leave someone on the battlefield?” the man asked after a moment, and the understanding in his voice – not the cloying sympathy he’d heard from others, nothing so soft as an I’m sorry but rather a me too, it’s fucking awful isn’t it – made Bucky’s throat feel thick.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Me.”

The man was quiet for a few moments, long enough that Bucky was sure that the man would just get up leave, and that was good, that was fine, Bucky didn’t want company, he just wanted to be left here to drown himself in peace. It’s not like he was lonely, there were dozens of people in this bar, right? He didn’t need Steve, he didn’t need Dum-Dum or Gabe or any of them, and he certainly didn’t need this random fucking stranger-

“Hey, what do you call a soldier who can read and write?”

Bucky stared at him blankly. “What?” he asked as the man just looked at him expectantly.

“What do you call a soldier who can read and write?” the man repeated.

Bucky blinked at him, but apparently the man was serious. “I don’t know, what?”

“Sir, yes sir!” The man said.  “Where does General Marshall keep his armies?”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky asked, but the man just shrugged. “Ok, where?”

“In his sleevies. What’s long and hard and full of seamen?” the man asked next.

“God,” Bucky groaned with a disbelieving laugh, less because the terrible jokes were funny and more because of the self-satisfied look on the man’s face when he said them.  “Why the hell are you telling me these terrible jokes? I just came from the front lines, haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Because you’re a soldier,” the man said with a grin, reaching out to flick the rank on Bucky’s collar. “If I told you good jokes, I’d have to explain them.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky said, but he couldn’t help the grin cracking his face.

“That’s more like it,” the man said. “Here, let me buy you a drink. A real drink,” he added, grimacing at the smell of the cheap whiskey in Bucky’s glass.

“Who are you?” Bucky asked after the bartender poured them both something top shelf, at least, as top shelf as it got during war time. “Because if you’re about to tell me you’re with the USO, you might want to rethink your career.”

“How dare you,” the man said cheerfully. “Made you laugh, didn’t I?”

“At you, maybe.”

“I’m Tony,” the man said, holding out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Bucky,” he said, shaking it. Bucky got a good look at the man this time, realizing just now that he tall and leanly built, dressed less like a man who had gone out for a night on the town and more like someone who had just taken a break from working with his hands and planned to go back to it soon. A mechanic, maybe, or a builder, judging from the nicks and callouses on his hands.

“So are you in London on leave?” Tony asked, sipping on his drink, turning in his seat so he was facing Bucky. “Or are you on your way home?”

Wasn’t that the question? He should be going home, if he had an ounce of brains. “Leave,” Bucky said. He glanced at where the Dum-dum and the others were all still drinking together on the far side of the bar. “And I’ll probably be heading out pretty soon, I guess.” Steve was sure ready to get back into the fight, and why wouldn’t he be? He’d never been one to back down from a fight, even if Bucky had been the one to get the bruised knuckles and bloody noses. He wondered if Steve would be so excited the first time he saw what a German howitzer could do to a human body.

“You got plans before you go?”

Bucky shrugged. “Get drunk and pour myself into bed sometime before morning reveille, I suppose. Why?”

“Well,” Tony said slowly, looking down at his glass and fidgeting with it. “I know you’re wearing a uniform, but I was wondering if you might be active duty.”

Bucky went hot, then cold, with fear at the question, and glanced around to see if anyone had heard. “Are you crazy?” he hissed.

“Aren’t we all? There’s a war on out there, and I’d rather get busy living before I get busy dying,” Tony said. “If you aren’t interested, just say so.”

Bucky studied Tony consideringly. “How did you know I wouldn’t punch you in the face just for asking?”

Tony snorted. “I saw how you looked at your friend as he walked out with that beautiful dame. If you’re going to pretend to be something you’re not – or rather, pretend to not be something that you are – you’re going to need a better poker face.”

Bucky took a sip of his drink and turned the offer over in his head, suddenly aware that he hadn’t had anyone touch him, really touch him, in months. His eyes caught on Tony’s hands again and he couldn’t help imagining how they might feel on him. “What did you have in mind?” he said in a low voice.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far, honestly,” Tony said with a rueful smile. “I was out here on a wing and a prayer. But, uh, I got a room at a hotel?”

Bucky looked down at his uniform. Disheveled though it was, it was distinctive and recognizable. “You can’t smuggle me into a hotel, Tony.”

“Right. I have a workshop,” Tony ventured. “It’s not much, but it’s not far.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “Let’s, um…”

“Finish our drinks first?” Tony suggested.

“Sure.” Bucky took a swallow of his drink, now drinking for courage rather than to forget. “Do you do this a lot?”

“No, not with, uh,” Tony gestured at Bucky and Bucky nodded with understanding.  “But…” Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Once I’m done with the – this project I’m working on, I’m going back to France. Southern France. So I came out for a drink because my workshop was too quiet, then I saw you, and I thought, he doesn’t seem like he should be alone right now, and when I talked to you, I realized that I don’t want to be alone right now, so…yeah.”

“Oh.” Bucky looked at Tony with new eyes, and saw the tiredness around the eyes, the slightly grim cast to his mouth. If Tony was working in southern France, he was probably with the Resistance, and if there was a more shit job than infantry that was definitely one of them. “Carpe diem, eh?” he asked, and tapped his glass against Tony’s.

“I want to carpe something, alright,” Tony said with a smirk.

“You Americans only want one thing,” Bucky complained, lifting his nose in the air and turning his face away. “You should be ashamed.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, doll,” Tony crooned. “I just want to show you a good time, I promise.” Tony risked a hand on Bucky’s leg, just above the knee, and squeezed, fingers rubbing along the inner seam of Bucky’s pants before he withdrew. Bucky almost choked on his whiskey as he inhaled sharply at the touch, heat suddenly thrumming in his veins. There was a glint in Tony’s eye as if he knew exactly the effect he’d had and was looking forward to doing more of it.

Then his face changed as he glanced up and leaned away from Bucky. “You gentlemen doing alright?” The bartender asked, and they both nodded.

“I’ll go ahead and pay my tab,” Tony said, and passed over way too much money for their bill. “Keep the change,” he said, and the bartender disappeared again.

But the reminder that they weren’t actually alone had been like cold water to the face, and suddenly Bucky was ready to leave. “You wanna get out of here?” he asked. He looked at how much alcohol was left and drank it all, coughing a little at the burn.

“Sure,” Tony said, taking one last swallow of his own before pushing it aside. Bucky stood and hesitated, remembering that the others were sitting by the front door and he’d have to pass them to get out of the bar. Tony touched his arm and jerked his head towards the back of the bar. Night had fallen while they were inside, and it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust; citywide blackout conditions meant that they only had the moonlight to see by, which was a week or so away from being full. “This way,” Tony said, and the hand on his arm slid down until Tony was curling his fingers around Bucky's palm.

The simple touch of another hand in his own made the words get stuck in Bucky’s throat, so he just held on, gripping maybe a little too tightly while Tony led him through the narrow streets and back alleys of London town. Tony stopped as their narrow alley emptied out into a larger street, moonlight gilding the pavement silver. He backed them up a bit, then herded Bucky into a dark corner away from the busier street.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky whispered, wondering if Tony had seen something on the street, like police or other Army officers or something. Instead, Tony just crowded him against the wall, arms coming up to bracket Bucky’s shoulders.

“Can I kiss you?” Tony whispered.

Bucky nodded, then realized it was probably too dark for Tony to see him, so instead he fisted his hands into Tony’s shirt and pulled him closer, sliding his hands up Tony’s chest to frame his face so he could slant his mouth across Tony’s. Tony made a soft hum, deep in his throat, and leaned in until Bucky could feel him from chest to knee. The stone wall was cold against his back, but Tony was so warm, so solid; Bucky suddenly wanted that weight on top of him, pressing him into a mattress. Tony’s mouth was hungry, and Bucky reveled in it; he could taste whiskey on Tony’s tongue and chased it with his own. Tony’s hands were fumbling at his jacket, then at his shirt underneath, trying to find skin. Bucky let go of Tony long enough to help him, trying to pull his shirt out from where he had tucked it into his pants because suddenly he wanted Tony’s hands on him more than he’d wanted anything, ever; this was glorious, it was heady, it was exactly the forgetting that he had been wanting. Then Tony was finally touching him, hands almost hot, the roughness of his callouses as he stroked along Bucky’s ribs making him feel like a plucked string. Relief swelled in him as fire crawled in his veins, making him feel lighter and more alive than he had in months. Tony slipped a thigh between Bucky’s legs and Bucky almost sobbed at the pressure against his aching hardness, especially when he realized that Tony was hard too.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Tony pulled away and Bucky could taste salt on his lips. “Bucky?” Tony said softly. “Are you ok?”

And to his dismay Bucky felt a sob burst out of him, all of the anger and bitterness and joy and loss and fear overflowing like a levee had broken. He felt arms wrapping around him and he buried his face in Tony’s neck and cried into his rough linen shirt. Tony didn’t say anything, didn’t try to comfort him or tell him well-meaning lies like it’ll be ok and you’ll be alright, he just held him close until the sobs trailed away into a stuffy nose and a headache.

Bucky finally straightened, feeling his face burning in the dark. “Christ, I’m so-“ Bucky started, but Tony stopped him with a kiss.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Tony said, digging into his pocket and handing Bucky a handkerchief. Tony’s hands came up to cradle Bucky’s elbows and he rested his head against Bucky’s forehead. “All of that has to go somewhere or it will eat you up inside. I’m glad that I could be here for you when you needed it.”

Bucky grimaced but he had to admit he felt better, like a flood had washed him clean inside. Except, of course, for the embarrassment of having cried on someone he was just about to get off with.  “Do you still wanna…?”

“Do you?” Tony asked. They were still cradled in the soft darkness of the night, and Tony’s breath was a puff of warmth on Bucky’s lips; he could smell the whiskey on his breath and the faint threat of Tony’s cologne and what might be grease. There was the faintest murmur of conversation from pedestrians on the big street nearby, but it felt like they were in their own little world here, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to be able to disappear into that as long as possible. So he nodded, knowing that Tony could feel it. “Then I do, too.”

The next morning came all too soon; Bucky sighed with resignation when he saw the clock and realized he’d have to leave now to sneak back to his barracks before morning formation.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Tony offered, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Bucky’s face. They had ended up on a cot that Tony kept in his workshop, which was better than the floor but meant that they had pretty much had to be on top of one another all night in order to fit.

“No, if I get caught then it’s just breaking curfew, getting caught with someone else would just raise more questions.” Bucky kissed Tony’s forehead, the only place he could reach, then started to slide out from under him and get dressed.

“By the way,” Tony said, rolling over onto his back to watch Bucky pull his clothes on, “my full name is Tony Stark.”

“You mean, like the character from the book?” Bucky said skeptically. “Come on. You don’t gotta give me a fake name, here.”

“It’s not fake,” Tony protested. “I am the character from the book.”

“You mean he was named after you?”

“No that’s –“ Tony sat up with a huff, looking outraged. “The books are about me.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky said as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “That stuff can’t possibly be true, with Atlantis and magic masks and hidden temples and shit.”

“It is. If we had more time I’d show you,” Tony insisted. “And it’s not magic, just science we haven’t figured out yet.”

Bucky thought about blue beams of light that made people disappear as if they’d never existed, and a man who could rip his face off to show just a bloody skull underneath. “I guess,” he conceded. “So you’re a celebrity, eh? Wait until I tell absolutely nobody that I slept with a celebrity,” he said wryly, then did a double take as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, they sent you, a celebrity, into Vichy France?”

Tony winced. “That’s why I don’t tell people my real name,” he said. “It’s not like people can recognize me from the cheesy cover art of those books. I was just telling you so that…you know, in case, after the war – if there is an after – maybe you could look me up.”

“Oh.” Bucky sat down on the edge of the cot and cupped Tony’s cheek in one hand, running a thumb over his cheekbone. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[sherlollydramoine]

Detroit

Prompt 15: “not interested, thank you”

Fandom: Rami Malek/Need for Speed Movie

Pairing: Finn X Reader

Word Count: 2052

Warnings: Language, Alcohol consumption, Predatory Male Character (don’t worry–he gets his), Fist fight.

Here’s the follow up that was much requested to Broken Promises (HERE). Didn’t have time to edit this so please don’t mind my mistakes.

It had been just over a year since you’d walked out of his life away from everything that you’d ever know to start fresh. A good friend of yours from college worked for some big time corporation in Detroit whom upon hearing about what had happened and your need to start fresh had recommended you for a position. Everything was a blur after the interview having been basically hired on the spot and you needed to move quickly. The company itself owned several apartment buildings and was able to provide you housing for six months until you’d been able to secure one on your own. They’d been generous in allowing you three weeks to start, which enabled you to gather the remnants of your life with Finn, and put them on a truck.

You’d been unable to face him without feeling some kind of guilt. You did just walk out offering no explanation, after angrily expressing your frustration with his broken promises. Once you’d left there was no going back for you, you’d purposely fallen out of touch with everyone to avoid any updates on Finn. 

“Hey, YN, boss needs you to run some files down to the second office,” your co-worker and roommate Alicia informed you as she perches herself on the corner of your desk crossing her legs over each other, her heel clacking against the faux wooden front of your desk. You kept clacking away at the business email you’d needed to finish typing, hitting spell check, then sending it off to digital transmission land.

Looking up at her nodding your head, you hated this corporate job with every fiber of your being, but it more than adequately paid your bills. Alicia was the only friend you’d made since your move to Detroit. The two of you bonded quickly over the fact that in the main office of this company, you were only two of three women.

 “Yeah, sure I’ll run em down anyway since I’m out to lunch in about ten minutes anyway. Anybody need anything from the other office while I’m there?” you ask, you hated going down there. The fellas who were employed in the secondary office were far less refined than those on the top floor and were prone to make rude or outright lewd comments. The only man in the other office that never was rude or lewd was the actual office manager Doug, a kind man in his late forties that had a wife and four children.

“I don’t think so. At least no one has said anything to me about it. There is something you could do for me though?”

“Yeah sure Leesh what is it?”

“Could you give me the scoop on one of the newer guys down there? I heard some rumblings that he was gorgeous. Can’t remember his name though, Jen said he was kind of flirty in a goofy way and he talked about cars a lot.”

With a small laugh and a roll of your eyes, you agree to give her the scoop on the new hire, though a small part of you felt sad. That description could fit any number of men but it also aptly described your ex and it made your heartache a little bit. She wasn’t sure what cubicle he was located in but you figured it probably wouldn’t be overly tough to spot them. New hires were easy to spot: Ill-fitting suits, slightly tense, and they never seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

Alicia gives you a big smile and then ambles away back towards her desk buzzing her boss to make sure that he had the files ready to go for her. You watch as she disappears into her boss’s office for a couple of minutes reappearing with a stack of manila files in her hand.

“Here ya go, darling. The top six files need to go to HR and then the rest go to Doug. I’ll see you after lunch.”

Pushing back from your desk and standing up, taking a moment to stretch as it had been way too long since you’d seated hunched over a computer answering emails for the last several hours. Taking the files from your friend you trek towards the elevator bank humming a song that had been stuck in your head. Dropping off the necessary files to HR and then getting back on the lift to drop off the last stack downstairs before your lunch break.

“Hey Doug,” you said with a friendly smile. “These are all yours,” you say as you set the large stack of manila folders stuffed to the gills with who knows what paperwork in his ‘INCOMING’ tray.

“Thanks YN, how’s it going upstairs?”

“Oh you know, the same ole same ole. I just do as I’m told,” you laugh out. You start walking back towards the door, “Anyway, I gotta go but let me know if there is anything that you need from upstairs.”

As you walk out of Doug’s office you catch a glimpse of a man with very familiar curly hair and your heart drops. You couldn’t help but stare thinking maybe you’ve hallucinated or if this was really happening. The man must have felt your eyes on him because when he looked up both of you gasped in shock.

You didn’t wait around for him to react instead sprinting down the corridor to the elevator. Trying to calm your breathing as you rode the elevator down to the main level of the building, walking across the marbled floors, and out the door as fast as you could.

What the fuck is he doing here? You thought. How fucking dare he come all the way to Detroit. He has no business being here.

After your second cup of coffee, you came to the realization that It didn’t matter as you likely weren’t going to see each other very often, you could do this. You were an adult after all. Instead of grabbing lunch, you grab another coffee and then head back upstairs to your office deciding to cut your lunch break short.

The rest of your day was spent working furiously not even realizing when it was quitting time until Alicia tapped on your desk with her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Bitch, we’re going out!”

“Do I have to Leesh?”

“Yes, yes, you do. You never did give me the deets on the new guy. Is he as handsome and flirty as Jen said he was?”

“Yeah. He is, he’s also my fucking ex,” you respond dryly, watching her face morph from curious to curiouser. 

Grabbing your bag and following her to the elevator making the quick decision that you’d go out. If there was ever a time when you needed a strong drink and some possible casual sex, it was tonight.

 Alicia ends up taking you to one of your usual spots. As was common for the place it was crowded and loud full of other ‘suits’ wanting a little bit of fun on a Friday night. After scoring you both a prime spot to hang, she flings her bag onto the seat next to you and flounces off. Her red curly hair bouncing as she dances along to the beat of some heavily auto-tuned pop song that was blaring through the speakers. 

Sitting back in your chair watching the random groups of people taking shots, sipping beers, out for nothing but another convivial Friday night.

In your observations, you failed to notice when Finn walked in with a group of co-workers still in his suit and tie. He fidgets nervously with his tie, loosening it while talking to one of your other co-workers.

Just then Alicia re-appeared with a small tray of assorted shots carefully setting it down to avoid sloshing the amber colored liquid over the shot glasses. 

“Uh-oh babe, looks like you’re in for a heck of a time tonight,” she warns, tilting her head in the direction of Finn.

You look up in time to see Finn walk past your table, your eyes briefly catching before you lower yours, grab a drink off the tray, and slam it back. 

“Fuck this night!” you yell out, grabbing another drink and repeating. Twenty minutes and five shots later you were definitely feeling good. 

Grinding against Alicia on the dance floor giggling with each other forgetting all about the issue of your ex being in the same space as you. 

Leaving the dance floor behind under the guise of thirst, Alicia goes back to the table while you grab another round of drinks. While waiting an attractive man you’ve never seen before turns to you to strike up conversation apparently, not really wanting to deal with any of that you turn your body away. Dealing with men right now was not necessarily high on your list of priorities since you were already a few shots deep.

“Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink?” the stranger asks. 

“Not interested, thank you,” was the only thing you could think of to say. Inwardly cringing at how rude that sounded but at the moment you couldn’t be fucked to care.

“C’mon, what could it hurt? It’s just one drink,” he responds with a tone that made you suddenly angry.

“Yeah? One drink? And then what, mister? Then another one, and another until you’ve got me so drunk that you can take me home and use me in whatever way you see fit because somehow I owe you something. No, no, no. I don’t want your fucking drink!” you were yelling now stamping your feet looking very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of a crowded club, and the handsome stranger had the nerve to look pissed off.

“Now gorgeous that-”

“She said no man, why don’t you leave her alone,”a familiar voice sounded from behind you. 

“Oh and what are you gonna do about it pipsqueak?,”the man challenged.

Rolling your eyes at the sudden testosterone fueled fight that you can feel is about to happen.

“Nothing, I’m just letting you know that my girlfriend isn’t interested in your drinks. She’s an independent woman capable of buying her own.”

The bartender returns with your drinks, eyeing both Finn and the stranger, the aggression radiating off of the both of them. It had been a year but you could clearly see Finn with his chin up in definance, shoulders squared, strong arms tense, and fists balled. A stare down between the two until the man in the suit swung at Finn, hitting him square in the side of the head. 

Finn might be to most men considered small but he was tough, having worked as a mechanic for most of his life. He had way more muscle packed under his suit than it looked like he did. 

Finn stumbled backward, hand coming up to the side of his face where the asshole had struck him. Abandoning your drinks in favor of subduing Finn, you launch yourself at him and doing the only thing in the moment that you could think of to do, you press your mouth to his. It only took his brain approximately three seconds for him to go from aggressive to horny.

His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, you moan into his mouth giving into the warmth of him. The alcohol you’d consumed making your brain foggy, slowly processing what is happening. You break the kiss without warning hoping that whatever the hell that was, the spark that you had felt would fizzle out. 

Forgetting completely about the drinks you make your way back to your table grabbing your bag ignoring the look on Alicia’s face as you then make your way out of the club in a stunned confusion.

“YN?” you heard Finn call out.

You whirl around, nearly stumbling in your half drunken state, “What Finn?”

“Do you-need some help?” he asks, unsure of how he should proceed.

“You know what, why the fuck not.”

You barely remember walking home with Finn in tow but when you woke up in the morning with Finn still in your bed a slow smile spread across your face. There would be worse ways to wake up on a Saturday morning.

[joon-ipersgirl]

O5 - “the coveted client”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district's hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total.

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember nothing is ever as it seems...

a/n: hello friends. here is part 5. leave a comment on how you're feeling about this story. i'm debating on discontinuing it from tumblr. thank you vi for reading as always. enjoy everyone :)

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

Training tonight @ 6pm. Don’t be late. You read the incoming text with a grin. Even in text, Suga is straight to the point. Shoving your phone back into your pants pocket, you leave the small kitchenette and head back to your small desk with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. You can still remember the looks of horror on the boys’ faces after Suga announced your immediate hire and it’s been two weeks since then. Was it wrong to take pleasure in their discomfort? Probably. Would you stop? Never.

“Is that a smile I spy on Miss Y/N Y/L/N’s face? The Devil must be here to collect his wife,” Paul exclaims as you sit back down. You laugh and prop your chin on your hand as you stare at him over your desktop screen.

“Can a woman not just be happy, Paul? Why does it have to come at the expense of a man?” you ask, a fake feign of hurt in your voice.

“Of course women can. Just not you,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. You shake your head, your smile still present on your face. Paul would not ruin your good mood.

“Ouch. That one might have hurt if I actually gave a fuck about your opinion of me,” you say while reorganizing the folders Manager Kim had dropped onto your desk from the day before.

“Y/N! Language!” Laura chides as she walks into your cramped office space. You roll your eyes and flip through the countless papers on your desk to order them in order of priority.

It’s honestly a miracle that none of you manage to murder each other while you work though it’s crossed your mind several times. JM Events and Affairs is a lucrative event planning company, but apparently could not afford to at least place its clerks in a room larger than 500 sq ft. Being entry level is a struggle most days, but eventually it would all pay off and you would become a successful event planning guru. For now though, you’re stuck here with the imbeciles you had to call co-workers.

“Manager Kim wants to see us in her office,” James says as he pokes his head around the wall of the cubicle, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Now,” he emphasised. He doesn’t wait for you to follow.

Paul shoots you and Laura a raised brow of confusion as you grab your notepads and file down the long corridor to Manager Kim’s well decorated office. She’s an older woman who’s been in the business longer than you’ve been alive. She credits her success to always staying ahead of the trend even if she didn’t create it, though most times she did. Her style is impeccable and she is meticulous as she is jovial. She’s, quite simply, a genius.

James has already taken a seat in one of the two plush grey chairs in front of her large, industrial sized desk. Rows of colorful binders are organized on her desk - no doubt detailing the new events the company is planning on hosting. Manager Kim enjoys the arts and it’s evident from the variety of paintings that hang on the wall. Today, she’s dressed in a powder blue knit sweater that matches whatever shade of nail polish she wears tucked into a pair of belted, high waisted wide leg pants. Her matching steel toe boots peek from underneath.

“Ah, good. You’re all here,” she begins as she sits behind her desk. You gesture for Laura to take the other available seat as you stand behind James and Paul stands next to you.

“We have a new client considering the company for an event. He’s very important for future networking opportunities so I expect the very best work from you.” Manger Kim usually wasted no time getting straight to the point and today is no different. “In fact, I’ve been monitoring your work very closely because I knew a client like this would be coming very soon,” she stands from her desk, navy blue binder in hand.

“What kind of event is he planning on having?” James inquires, his pen ready to take notes.

“He didn’t give specific details, but I’m sure if we can book him for this minor event, he’ll give us the main one. I’m quite sure of it.” Manager Kim snaps the binder shut and smiles at you all. Her white blonde bob is immaculate, not a single strand out of place.

“Should we start drafting ideas now?” Laura asks.

“Yes, I need several drafts from each of you by 4pm this afternoon. Please have them -”

“Are we just supposed to forget about the other events we have coming up? This guy didn’t even give us any major details for effective planning!” Paul interrupts. Manager Kim turns to look at him.

“Well Paul, if this client is of no importance to you -” Paul tries to backtrack, but to no avail as Manager Kim continues on “- I will not need your drafts or your portfolio.” She beams at him and Paul blanches. You grimace.

“As I was saying. Please have your portfolios and 4 drafts submitted to me by 4pm today. They should be in priority order and include everything from food to colors, entertainment and venues. Remember, the customers knows best -”

“- but finesse, finesse, finesse,” you, Paul, James, and Laura finish. Manager Kim should have that framed and put on her wall.

“Lovely. Goodbye,” she waves no longer looking at you, already lost in her grueling event editing process. You knew better than to loiter and the four of you head back to your small workspace.

“You really fucked up there Paul,” you say as you sit down at your desk.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Paul deadpans. He drops his head quite heavily on his desk. Laura winces.

“It’s okay, Paul. Maybe you can still show her something and -” she starts.

“You know Manager Kim isn’t the forgiving kind,” James interrupts. “There’s nothing more he can do,” he finishes nonchalantly.

“I hate to agree -” you begin.

“No you don’t,” Paul cuts in.

“- but James is right. Manager Kim is all about quick thinking and Paul failed that test. He’ll have another time to redeem himself, but he has to sit this one out. You should be happy, Laura. Less competition,” you say with a shrug and flip open your notepad to start drafting.

“Do you even have an empathetic bone in your body, Y/N?!” Laura hisses as she walks over to rest a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“Sometimes,” you reply. “But everyone has to eat and I refuse to go to sleep on an empty stomach.”

Laura looks disgusted at your answer and she goes back to consoling Paul. James had left the conversation a long time ago and you admired his ability to ignore almost everyone around him. His coldness and detachment made him ruthless in an unsuspecting way and you’d learned the hard way not to underestimate him. Laura would learn eventually that while people thought it was the strong who survived, it was really those who were able to adapt to any environment that really thrived.

It’s after lunch that you receive an email from Manager Kim requesting for you to meet her in the lobby in fifteen minutes without any further explanation. You ask no questions and sit in the lobby, counting the people that come out of the elevator that were not Manager Kim. It’s already 1:24 pm and you’ve just started your third draft. Creating on a time crunch with no real guidance is no walk in the park and you try to keep your frustrations under control as you run through possible color combinations for the event.

“Y/N! There you are! Let’s go,” Manager Kim calls as she exits the building without checking to see if you follow.

You scramble to grab your purse and notepad, scurrying across the lobby in the high heels she insists you wear. Manager Kim is already seated in a company car as you yank the passenger side door open and fall into the seat.

“Very good,” she says and wastes no time pulling into traffic. You awkwardly try to secure your seatbelt as she zips through the small spaces between cars. Gods protect you from this woman and her hazardous driving.

“Where are we going?” you ask after you manage to situate your purse, coat, and notepad in your lap comfortably.

“Downtown. We’re meeting with the client.”

“We?!” you repeat, surprised.

“That’s what I said isn’t it? We’re also late,” she says as she makes a sharp right turn onto Matthews St. You barely miss hitting a cyclist and you send up another small prayer for you to make it to your destination safely.

“What about the drafts and portfolios? Aren’t you going to review -”

“Did I say I wasn’t?” She glances over at you from the corner of her eye and you close your mouth. You would not fail this test.

Manager Kim pulls over into an impossibly tight space in front of a large corporate building that reads Hastings and Lewis. A well established law firm if you remember correctly. It has to be at least 14 stories high and exudes the architect’s vision of simple modern design with large windows and exposed steel structural support. You both exit the car and you align your steps with hers, your heels clicking in time against the marble flooring as you enter the building. You say good afternoon to the doorman who simply nods at you in greeting.

“Hello. How can I help you?” the receptionist asks behind the raised desk, her head barely visible.

“Yes, hello. My name is Madeline Kim. I have an appointment to speak with Mr. Cavallero at 2:15pm.” You glance at the clock behind the receptionist. 1:53pm. You bite your lip to hold your outburst. To be early is to be on time, you could hear her say.

The receptionist smiles and nods as she searches her computer for the appointment. “Yes, here it is. Please have a seat. Someone will come and get you shortly.”

Manager Kim nods and perches in one of the available seats. You shake your head as you take a seat next to her, ignoring the itching in your palm to pull out your notepad and finish your drafts. You can tell by the way Manager Kim is sitting, not scrolling through her various binders or the calendar on her phone, this is a formal interview and you would not be the one to fuck it up. There would be time to finish the drafts. You would make sure of it.

“Ms. Kim?” A young man in a sharp, black suit stands in the center of the room smiling at you. 2:05pm. Right on time. “If you could follow me this way, please.” He turns towards the golden elevators and you follow behind him. “My name is Lewis Carlisle and I am the assistant to Mr. Cavallero,” he tells you as he pushes the button for the 10th floor. He sticks his hand out for each of you to shake.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Carlisle. Thank you for having us. This is my assistant, Ms. Amani Jung.” A lie, but you go with it.

“A pleasure to meet you,” you say with a bright smile and a firm handshake. He returns a smile of his own.

The elevator doors open and you follow Mr. Carlisle through the open workspace plan. This is the kind of place that promoted collaboration and teamwork. How could it not when the light airy feeling made you want to turn to your neighbor and ask them what they thought about a particular problem? JM Events and Affairs should have hired their interior designer. Maybe some of their employees wouldn’t struggle as much to meet their deadlines.

“Mr. Cavellero unfortunately will not be able to meet with you in person today -” Manager Kim’s smile tightens at his words “- but he did relay all of his expectations for the company brunch,” Lewis says as he holds open the door to a small meeting room. It’s in the center of the floor and the walls are made of pure plexiglass. It screamed expensive.

“How wonderful,” Manager Kim comments as she sits down and sets her purse down on the ground.

“Would either of you like something to drink? Water? A Coke?”

“ A water with light ice will do, thank you,” she says.

“I’ll take a bottle of water, please,” you reply and sit down beside Madeline. You discreetly pull out your design notepad along with your actual note-taking pad. Lewis nods and promises to return quickly with your drinks as well as the file containing the event details.

“You seem upset,” you comment while scribbling down the words brunch and law firm onto a new blank sheet for your fourth and final draft, your brain already conjuring up ideas.

“What makes you think that?” she asks, turning to you slightly as she too sets up her own note-taking station.

“Your smile failed to meet your eyes,” you say nonchalantly. From the corner of your eye, you see her break into a grin as Lewis enters the room, a cup of water in one hand, a bottle in the other, and a slim manilla folder tucked underneath his arm.

“Thank you again, Mr. Carlisle,” Manager Kim says with another bright smile, her hand in his as they shake hands again.

“You’re very welcome. I’m sure Mr. Cavallero will love what you put together for brunch,” he replies.

The meeting seems to be a success and you’d gained some much needed insight for your fourth draft while being Madeline’s “assistant”. You’re no longer paying attention as you exit the meeting room and head back towards the main elevator, Madeline and Lewis making polite conversation. You run over all of your drafts as you check the time discreetly. It’s 3:20pm. You would still have enough time to review your plans and work on the others files Manager Kim had assigned. You grin in victory.

“Mr. Cavallero!” Lewis exclaims as the elevator doors open.

The man is an older gentleman with neatly groomed hair and warm brown eyes. His coal grey suit is neatly pressed, a sharp crease present in the center of his pant leg. Definitely high quality and only dry-cleaned. His smile displays a set of perfect of white teeth. As he steps out of the elevator, holding it open so it wouldn’t close, the Armani Exchange watch glitters under the artificial lights.

“Mr. Carlisle. I assume this must be our event coordinators. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet with you. An emergency meeting was called for a major case,” he apologizes.

“I understand, Mr. Cavallero. Things are sometimes out of our control. No need to explain,” Madeline says with a smile as she enters the elevator. You follow behind her. “Mr. Carlisle was quite capable. I will have Miss Y/L/N send over the final details for the event by Friday for your approval.”

Mr. Cavallero’s eyes shift over to you and he smiles. “I look forward to it. Enjoy the rest of your day, ladies.” He let the doors go as Lewis tells you goodbye, the doors closing off the last of his words.

Manager Kim’s shoulders visibly relax as you descend to the lobby, but you make no comment. Though their conversation was brief, something had clearly transpired between them. Madeline seems to have noticed you watching her as she inhales and fixes her posture. She was back to business.

“I assume I don’t have to tell you not to say anything about this meeting?” she asks as she nods her thanks to the doorman, your steps once more in sync as you exit the high rise building.

“What meeting?” You say with a grin as you wait for her to unlock the company car.

The heat of the staircase in Spiral welcomes you again like a familiar friend after not seeing them for a long time. There is still the hustle and bustle of vendors dropping off boxes as the final details of the new designs are being put into place. People couldn’t wait to see how Spiral had fared after the robbery - which you still didn’t believe was actually what happened - and it seems like Friday’s opening night couldn’t come soon enough. Even Paul and Laura were considering stopping by after all of the shit they talked before.

You enter the main space and glance around, looking for one of the boys. Your purse bag is heavy from the event files and you head over to set it on top of the bar while resting your aching feet. Paul, Laura, and James could not believe you’d managed to turn in your drafts and portfolio at exactly 3:57pm after being gone so long; they would eventually learn to not underestimate you. You glance around again and notice a group of people sitting in one of the newly upholstered booths quietly chatting to one another across the way. Were these the new employees?

“Already lounging on the first day of the job, Y/L/N?”

You look to your left as you shrug off your heavy overcoat and see Honcho coming around the bar, a pile of clothes in his hands.

“Of course not. I just wasn’t sure who to report to,” you say with a shrug.

“Well, you’re looking at him,” he replies with a grin. You have to stop your mouth from falling open. Of all people, it had to be him? “What? Are you disappointed?” he asks as he continues across the room to the small group. You grab your stuff and walk over after him.

“No, I just thought -”

“Thought it would be Suga? As much as you like to charge in and demand shit sweetheart, Suga is a very busy man and doesn’t have the time to appease you all the time. Sit,” he commands with a jerk of his head. You narrow your eyes at him, but obey. It’s only then that you notice the other five persons staring at you in confusion as you bickered. You swallow the urge to huff in annoyance as Honcho begins speaking.

“Thank you all for being on time. Congratulations on being hired. I’m Honcho and I’ll be your manager at Spiral. You’ll meet the rest of the guys later. These are your uniforms. We have a strict adherence uniform policy, so please do your best to be dressed in your proper attire. If you have long hair, it will be tied up or back in a bun or ponytail. Ladies, we ask that you wear red lipstick to match our colors. We’ve also given you options for bottoms: a skirt or pants.” Honcho holds up a pair of each for demonstration. “Whatever you decide to wear is up to you. We only ask that all your shoes are closed toed and we would prefer no sneakers; we’re trying to sell a vibe here. Any questions?” He doesn’t wait for anyone to speak up. “No? Great. If you could introduce yourselves to each other, that’d be fantastic.” He looks over to the boy on the other side of the booth.

“Uh, hi. My name is Micah. I’m 21 and recently graduated from college.” He tosses up a small wave before pushing his glasses further up his nose. He’s narrow shouldered and naturally blonde. Cute, if you will. They would chew him up and eat him alive if he continued to be so timid.

“Hey, I’m Luca. I’m 23 and a graduate student at Oberman.” Luca definitely fit the vibe Spiral os going for with his dark hair and dark eyes. He would have no problem wooing the numerous women who would walk through the door. A great business move in your opinion.

“Hey y’all, Savannah here. I’m 22 and working part time while in school.” Another blonde hair, blue-eyed coworker. How fun. The bubbles in champagne had nothing on her as she beams at the rest of you around the table.

“I’m Jack. I’m 24 and I guess I’m here to save up for a new car? Need some extra cash,” he finishes with a bashful grin. The girl next to you snorts. Jack is a big man with broad shoulders and you would assume he was hired as additional security based on his size. Imagine a man as big as him bringing over your strawberry mojito? Exactly.

“Giselle. 21. Law student. Loans have to pay themself off somehow right?” Luca laughs and Giselle smiles. Yuck. If you weren’t already sick of the office romance - if you could call it that - between Laura and Paul at JM, you were going to have to endure another one here? Gods be with you.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m 22 and an event planner,” you say nonchalantly and turn to Honcho, waiting for his next instructions.

“Not going to tell us the reason you’re here?” he smirks and you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like a lot of things, Y/L/N. In fact, I can think of a few -”

“Gross,” you say, interrupting him, your face turned down in disgust. He laughs.

“Always think someone wants something from you, huh?” He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Everyone, go get changed and I’ll explain your duties to you once you get back.”

The six of you ease out of the booth, grabbing your uniforms as you head to the restrooms to get changed. As you follow Savannah and Giselle, you can’t help but scan the hallway for anything you could have missed as the memory of your second night here flashed across your mind. There had to be something that you were missing.

“I hope these uniforms are cute,” Giselle grumbles as she steps into an empty stall.

“I’m sure it’ll look great,” Savannah chirps.

You step into your own individual stall and drop your stuff on the floor. Slipping out of your heels, you step out of your slacks and tug off your blouse. You hold up the uniform shirt. It’s a plain black t-shirt with the letters in red spelling out Spiral in a spiral formation. The pants are made of a faux leather shiny material. They look tight and the sides have cut outs with strings laced in them from hip to ankle. The skirt is exactly the same. You sigh. This was really the vibe?

You dress quickly and tug on your Doc Martens. Honcho would have to wait for the lipstick. Exiting the stall, you see Savannah trying to adjust the strings on her pants while chewing her lip.

“Is it supposed to be this exposed?” she asks, checking herself out in the mirror.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Giselle says exiting the stall and tugging down the hem of her skirt.

“So much for equality in the workplace huh?” you say. The two of them laugh.

The three of you return to the main space, Micah, Luca, and Jack already back at the booth with Honcho. Their eyes widen when they see you.

“Looking good ladies,” Honcho calls with his traditional large grin. Of course he would comment.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s next?” Giselle asks as she wiggles her way back into the booth, trying to cover her modesty.

“We’re going to take a tour of the facilities, get you acquainted with the space, and fill out the last pieces of paperwork. We’ll also have you help with some of the decorations; don’t worry, you’re going to get paid for this session. Then, we’ll see you on Friday for your shifts,” he replies. “Alright, let’s go.”

Again, he doesn’t wait for you to follow. As you’re setting your belongings down to catch up with the rest of the group, you spot Jin heading towards the bar. Just the man who you needed to see.

“Are you coming Y/N?” Savannah calls to you as the group heads up to the second level.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there!” you lie, knowing damn well you’re going to ambush Jin. You pretend to search for something in your purse as you double-check the group is far enough on the second level to not notice you not following before you head over to Jin.

“Well hello Jin,” you say as you wiggle your way onto a bar stool.

“Y/N,” he says with a chuckle. “What can I do for you?”

“Just answer a few simple questions.” you smile as you rest your chin on your palm.

“Alright,” he replied skeptically.

“Where’d you move the body?” The bottle of Aperol nearly slips out of his grip as he turns to look at you.

“Excuse me?” There’s no laughter in his voice.

“The body of the man in the bathroom,” you clarify. “How’d you get it to disappear like that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies, busying himself with stocking up the bottles of alcohol under the shelf. He won’t meet your eyes. You know he’s lying; his body language says it all.

“Oh come on, Jin. You can tell me. It’s not like I’m going to go to the cops or anything,” you say nonchalantly. “Clearly they didn’t seem to care since they weren’t that thorough with their questions.”

“Y/N, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. You were concussed remember? Maybe you imagined whoever you’re talking about.” He glances up at you. You roll your eyes.

“Really Jin? You’re going to use the concussion line on me? You knew that I shot him; I told you that. I just want to know where you put him and why there were no reports of a missing man from the incident on the news at all,” you say with a shrug. He finally turns to face you.

“Maybe nobody reported him missing. Maybe he slipped out after you ducked behind the bar. What does it matter? Look, it was a traumatic night. For all of us. I don’t know anything about whatever or whoever you’re talking about. Hell, you probably don’t know either. Please, don’t make this working relationship anymore difficult for yourself than it already is. Just come in, keep your head down, and head out.” His hands are splayed out on the bar and the distance between you has closed significantly from when he’d started talking as he stares you down. “Worry about the things that concern you, like repaying your debt.” His tone is sharp and final. There’s no friendliness in his face either.

“Y/L/N! You’re not getting paid to sit on that pretty little ass of yours. Get up here now!” Honcho yelles down to you over the railing of the second floor balcony.

Ignoring Honcho, you cock your head and look at Jin again, thinking. “Okay Jin. Heard you loud and clear.”

You hop off the bar stool and adjust your skirt. You say nothing further as you head upstairs. It seems as though Jin would be of no help to you, but honestly, it didn’t matter. If it didn’t concern you, why was Jin lying about knowing what man you were talking about? Why had Suga tried to discreetly cover up that paper in his office the other day? What was really going on at Spiral? You’re determined to figure it, even if you have to work extra hours to do it. What happens in the dark must eventually come to light.

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[djarinbarnes]

Love Me To Pieces

Author: only Dina.

Word Count: 5874

Pairings: Model Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: little betta angst, smut, oral (female receiving), fluff

A/N: welp

His brown hair fluttered softly with the winds blowing from the giant fan in front of him. His eyes were fixated on something in the room, his gaze stiff and unmoving. 

The blitz from the camera was almost blinding, as you watched the photographer command the handsome man around the small space. The model straightened himself as the photographer commanded an assistant to fetch a chair. 

The brunet looked around the studio slowly, blue eyes landing on you. You sucked in a breath, the look in his eyes was almost overwhelming. You offered him a small smile, to which he rolled his eyes and plopped down on the chair now in front of him.

You were ripped out of your thoughts by the assistant manager, as she waved her hand in front of your eyes, almost yelling in your ear. You looked at her puzzledly, and she waved the note in front of your eyes. 

Fuck.. The coffee. You grabbed the note and sighed, nodding in defeat. You heard the model laugh, and oh... The laughter was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. 

Your head snapped towards him, finding his eyes crinkled and full of... ridicule? You felt your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly felt like everyone in the room was staring at you. You turned on your heel and sauntered out of the studio, to fetch the coffee written down on the note.

A good forty minutes later you walked back in, stacks of coffees in your arm. You set the coffee down and started handing them out by calling the names. 

You made it to "James?", only to find no one there to collect the coffee. You looked around, finding the photographer sipping his coffee, scrolling through the pictures on his computer, the assistant manager pouring a mildly intoxicating amount of sugar into her cup and stirring it, and the stylists were all taking their breaks by the giant window panes. James had to be the model then. But where was he?

You ventured back out into the hallway, coffee in hand, looking around. You stopped when you heard a low, agitated voice behind a slightly open door. You tiptoed closer, your curiosity getting the best of you. 

"... so basically what you're saying is, you don't want to make this work? You're just trying to make this worse! I've done everything for you, for us! Honestly, you don't ever hear what I actually say!" 

You sucked in a breath. You never imagined someone like James to have problems like these? "Fuck, don't talk down to me! I'll fucking talk to you when I get home. I'm not doing this right now. I'm at work. Bye."

You gasped as the door suddenly opened in your face, coming face to face with the beautiful blue eyes. His face was red and the vein on his forehead very prominent. 

You stammered as the look in his eyes changed from anger to fear. "Your... your coffee.." you blushed and held up the coffee in his face, avoiding his eyes. He looked at the coffee and exhaled through his nose, grabbing the coffee from your hands, offering you yet another eye roll.

"I don't know how much you heard of that... and I'm sorry you had to hear any of it. It's... complicated. Forget you heard it." He said and left you standing there in the hallway. He wasn't even mad that you had been eavesdropping on his private, heated conversation? 

You collected yourself for a minute before walking back to the studio, your eyes immediately falling on the beautiful model standing in front of the camera yet again. You plopped down on one of the couches, watching him intensely for the rest of the shoot. Your eyes would often find each others, and you would both quickly avoid each others gazes.

The manager called the ending of the shoot, the stylists packing up their kits and everything they brought along. James, some modeling agent and the photographer were seated in front of the computer, talking about the different approaches of the pictures. 

This big modeling agency had reached out about a new model, and James was the perfect fit for some new posh billboard ad. They wrapped up and the photographer dismissed James for the night. You had to stay as long as the assistant manager, helping her out with everything.

You were writing on your notepad when you felt a poke to your shoulder, and you turned around to meet those blue eyes yet again. "Yes?" You smiled softly and felt the nervousness creep up in your cheeks yet again. You sensed his nervousness as well.

"I.." He was cut off by his phone ringing. His sighed and pulled it out, his eyebrows furrowing, eyes squeezing shut. "I gotta take this. I'm sorry. Please stay until I get back." He said as he accepted the call, walking away from you. "I told you we'd talk when I got home..." You were wondering who he was even talking to. A girlfriend? Boyfriend? Wife? Husband? And why the hell were they like this to him?

You were caught up in your thoughts, and as you snapped out of them, James was looking at you. "Earth to Y/N?" His hand waved in front of your eyes, and you let out a laugh.

"Hey, sorry, I was... thinking." you said with a small smile. "So?"

"I was wondering if I could.. no, nevermind. It was nice seeing you act like a lost puppy the whole day. Really made my day." His smile was definitely genuine.

"I guess you're welcome, James? I'm glad you enjoyed it. Seemed like you needed it." His face fell, and you immediately regretted bringing it up. His eyes fell to his feet with a heavy sigh.

"I wish I could stay here and hang out, I'd love to get to know you, but…" He shrugged, and you nodded, knowing what he meant. He had to get home and take care of...whatever was happening. You felt bad for him, because it was clear he deserved better. 

The pain was evident in his icy blue eyes, and he seemed too sweet to be experiencing this hurt. He deserved someone who would keep his head level, but supported him enough for him to be happy. 

Apparently, he wasn't getting that, and it pained you to see him that way, despite only knowing him for the past few hours. For all you knew, you'd never see him again.

A small smile graced your lips as he stared into you. "Goodnight, Mr. Barnes," you wished him.

"Goodnight, (y/n). It was great working with you today. And please, call me James." And with that, he walked off set, seemingly walking out of your life, too.

When James got home, he was faced with a distant partner. He was tired of the constant fighting, the unnecessary snarky remarks. This relationship used to be so much fun. They were in love, hands on each other all the time, and now… Now it was just cold. 

James missed having a partner. Someone to mess around with and dote on. After all, there was only so much he could buy for himself. He wanted someone to buy flowers and coffee for, someone he could spoil. He used to do that with his current partner, but Noah didn’t like that anymore. 

In fact, James wasn’t even sure Noah liked him anymore. James questioned with every fight they had whether he should ask Noah to move out, or break up with him, or something. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t. 

He was scared of being lonely, he wagered. Being in a loveless relationship was better than not being in one at all. Either way, a part of him wished he had gotten your phone number today. 

He wanted to keep talking to you. He felt something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. James couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but some piece of him lit up as he got a phone call from an unknown number.

-

Back at the photoshoot set, things were running smoothly. Tear-down was going as expected, and you were on track to actually leave at a halfway decent hour, only an hour after James had left. 

But, in this business, there’s no such thing. Just as you were packing your things to leave, a frantic man in a suit hurried in the doors, demanding to see the photos James shot today. 

The photographer brought up all the photos on his laptop, showing them to the blond man from what you assumed was the company James was advertising for. All the sudden, the big shot from the corporation was yelling.

“No, no, no! None of these pictures will work! They all look like garbage ! Get this piece of shit back here by 8 am tomorrow morning or his contract is getting canceled!”

The man from corporate landed his gaze on you before barking out orders.

"You! Call Barnes and tell him to be back tomorrow morning, 8 am sharp ! I don't care how pissed he is, he better not be late!"

You were taken aback at how demanding he was, but you had taken orders all day, so you were used to it. You got his phone number from his modeling agent, and called him immediately, just as you'd been instructed. However, you couldn't ignore how bad your hands were shaking as the ringing stopped.

"James Barnes, what do you want?" The familiar husky voice from this morning answered, though sounding slightly annoyed.

"Uh, hi, Mr. Barnes, this is (y/n), your assistant from this morning?" You could almost feel him exhale with relief, as if he'd wished you would call.

"Oh, hey, sweetheart, what can I do for you?" He softened immediately, becoming the man you'd encountered earlier, the one who apologized for you having to hear him fight with his lover.

"I hate to say this, but the company didn't like any of your photos. They want you back in to the studio tomorrow morning, 8 am," you informed him, going slowly so he'd process. You weren't sure how he'd react.

He chuckled lowly, sucking a breath in between his teeth. "Well, can't say this has ever happened before. Will you be there in the morning?"

"Yes, Mr. Barnes, I'll be here in the morning."  

"That'll make the day bearable, then." He paused, considering his next words. "And I told you earlier, call me James, doll. I'll see you in the morning, alright? Goodnight."

You bid him goodnight once again, somehow looking forward to tomorrow for once. For once, you knew who you'd be working with, and he was handsome as hell. Perfect for-- no. You weren't going to let your thoughts go there. This was a professional relationship, he had a partner, and he was way out of your league.

However, the next morning as you got ready for work, you found yourself putting extra effort into your appearance. You used your good makeup, spent time carefully crafting an outfit, and did your hair in a way you usually only reserved for special occasions. As you saw it, this was a special occasion.

You drove to work, cursing traffic as usual, but soon arrived on the set a half hour early. Your manager gave you a list of tasks that already needed to be completed, and as you set to work on them, the handsome chap from yesterday came strolling through the doors. 

His jaw was locked, and he didn't look very happy, but as his eyes found yours, he managed a small smile. You smiled back, wanting him to know that he was welcome here even if the company didn't like his shots.

As James went to get his hair and makeup done, the outfit stylist was going between him and the rack of clothes they had brought back from yesterday. No sooner than you had set up another light, the same blond man from corporate came strutting into the space. 

Mr. Rogers, someone called him. 

James looked at the man with death in his eyes, turning to an Arctic blue instead of the warm ocean turquoise they normally were. The hairdresser was fussing over James' hair as Mr. Rogers was yelling out, "Chop, chop! We don't have all day!"

His stylist worked on buttoning up a navy blue collared shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone and ruffling it up to make it look perfectly messy. He was ordered to sit against a white wall, the photographer looking through the camera lens and picking out angles. 

You noticed that James refused to smile. You knew he could get angry, but he was the type to never let it show. That much was evident from yesterday.

A half hour in, and James was fed up.

"Stop! You've taken at least 100 pictures by now. I'm sure you can find something. I'm taking a break." For once, he was the one in command of the shoot, and it made him feel more powerful. 

Between poses, he had been glancing at you, making sure your eyes were on him as he moved around the space. Your eyes followed him around, and you found it hard to hide the attraction you felt. 

You were all but dumbfounded when James abruptly stood up from the stool they had him on, and paced his way to you. His eyes were dark, and you could tell there had been a switch flipped.

"Come with me," he growled as he walked past you. You obediently followed, scared of what might happen but secretly turned on. When you walked off the set, he grabbed your hand and led you to the closet he was talking to his partner in yesterday. The next thing you knew, the door was locked and the model was behind you, breathing heavily.

"I couldn't fucking take it anymore," he whispered. "So now, you're mine for the break."

Your cheek pushed up against the wall in front of you, his strong hand holding the back of your head as you panted out harshly. Both your hands rested on the wall in front of you, and James’ unoccupied hand slid down your front, unbuttoning your shirt as he went, pulling it off your shoulders roughly. You felt his hand popping the button of your jeans, then sliding both your pants and panties down your legs.

“Eager, are we?” you giggled as he bit your shoulder, pushing your head further against the wall. Your arousal slowly made its way past your folds, dripping down your thighs subtly.

“Be fucking quiet” He panted from behind you, as you heard the sound of a belt buckle coming loose, and jeans hitting the floor. “You’re such a fucking tease y/n” you felt the length of his girth slide into you without warning. You let out a deep moan and felt a hand clasp over your mouth harshly.

“You like that, hmmm? Giving into me like the little slut you are? I’ve been thinking about you naked the whole damn day. Next time think before you eye fuck me. God, you’re so fucking wet” Your eyes rolled back into your head as he set an awful slow pace, and you groaned against his hand. 

“Be a good girl, and I might give you what you want.” You struggled against his hand in an attempt to say something, and he slung an arm around your abdomen, to keep you situated in front of him.

“You wanna say something, baby girl? Hmm? Well you gotta be real quiet, if they find us here, who knows what they’re going to do..” His thick cock slid in and out of your dripping heat at the slowest imaginable pace, as he lifted his hand off your mouth. “Go ahead love”

“Jesus Christ, just fuck me already” You moaned out quietly. His hips snapped harshly against your ass, a whimper emitting deep from your throat as his hand slapped back over your mouth. 

His thrusts were animalistic, he was definitely focused on chasing his own release as quickly as possible. You bit down on his hand as his deep grunts ricocheted off the walls in the small closet. The hand not covering your mouth found your breast roughly, pulling the cup down and pinching your nipple harshly.

It was brutal. It was so hot, so filthy. The force of his thrusts and the angle made you see stars, you felt every vein prominently straining the skin of his cock as it slid in and out of you with ease. 

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you came violently around his length, your body convulsing and breath erratic. You felt him smile against your neck before he bit down, silencing himself as your muscles milked him of his release. Your head fell back on to his shoulder as you felt his hot cum spurt against your walls.

“Fuck doll, you drive me mad” he said as he lifted his hand off your mouth, finally letting you inhale deeply. He looked around the closet swiftly, grabbing a few paper towels as he went to pull out of you. 

He slid the paper towels under your pulsing sex, letting gravity do what it does best. He wiped you off as you came down from your euphoric state, pulling your underwear and pants up your legs.

The rest of the day was a blur. Between getting lost in thought and lost looking at James, you were ordered around like a dog but still didn’t get much done. You never once after the incident in the closet caught James looking at you again, he was simply avoiding you. 

When he was let go, the corporation finally satisfied with James’ pictures, he didn’t even spare you a glance. You felt your heart drop as he strode out the room, shutting the door after him.

As you were packing your things, getting ready to leave, you violently smashed and pushed your things into your bag, muttering curse words into nothing. You ground your teeth as you sighed loudly, leaving the manager and the photographer behind with protests coming from their mouths.

Days passed. You dragged yourself to work, desperately hoping for just some sign of life from James. He didn’t answer any of the simple texts you sent him, and you felt your blood boiling even more for every day that went by. 

Friday came around, five days after your encounter in the closet. You gazed upon your phone screen once again, unlocking it and going through your one-sided conversation with James. Why the fuck did he do you like this?

You hated being treated like this. You knew in the back of your mind that you deserved so much more than this, but James kept pulling you back to him. He was like a damn magnet. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, no matter how hard you tried. You spent your free time on Tinder, trying to find someone who would compare to James, but there was no one. Plus, you knew it was wrong to be falling this hard for a taken man, estranged as his relationship may be.

Today was no different than the rest of the week. You barely got anything done, despite being ordered around all day. When today’s model left and you were allowed to leave, you went home and immediately dropped everything at the door, kicking off your immensely uncomfortable heels. 

You went to the fridge, skipping the wine and going straight for your favorite rum. You weren’t in the mood to cook, so you placed an order for Chinese takeout. As you waited on your order, you changed into a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. 

Your main mission of the evening was to forget James, even if just for a few hours. You settled on letting your emotions out on canvas, painting an abstract piece as you drank and ate your lo mein noodles.

Eventually, you got tired of trying to fight off the brunet you’d attached yourself to, and attempted to sleep off the thought of him, to no avail. Your dreams were filled with him, of the ten minutes you spent in the closet together what seemed like forever ago.

Around 7am, you finally gave up on trying to sleep peacefully, and got up, grabbing your phone off the nightstand. To your surprise, you had five missed calls from James, spanning from 3am to just five minutes ago, as well as several texts. 

You almost wanted to torture him, to leave him be, to ignore him like he ignored you, but that was impossible. Your phone was in your hand when he called again. You ignored his call against your will, emotions suddenly overcoming you in a tidal wave. 

Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes as the screen went dark. You sighed and stared at your phone for what felt like the longest time, until the screen lit up. He had texted.

James Barnes (3:42 am)

looooooove i’m sorry i can’t

James Barnes (3:42 am)

i did nt mean to send that i’, sorry

James Barnes (3:44 am)

please i miss you  n i can’t stop thinkking ab you

James Barnes (4:06 am)

i’m sorry. i was a douche and i can’t get you out of my head

James Barnes (4:10 am)

please love

James Barnes (5:24 am)

i know you’re probably sleeping and everything but i’m sorry for my previous messages...

James Barnes (5:25 am)

I’ve been trying to forget you for the past five days but i just can’t seem to rid you from my cells...

James Barnes (6:32 am)

I long for you, please… Just get back to me as soon as you see these…

James Barnes (6:32 am)

(ignore the first texts please)

James Barnes (7:02 am)

Doll, please answer me. Tell me you’re as restless as I am.

James Barnes (7:03 am)

Noah left two days ago. I’m not sure where he is but he’s not here, and probably not coming back for a while… Please let me apologize properly. I’ll fix dinner and everything. Let me make this right.

-

After reading the messages multiple times, you sorted out the details and begrudgingly accepting his invitation. It almost made your mood better. You were still hurt, but you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

You jumped into the shower, trying to wash off the self torturous ways you’d denied yourself any cleanup for the last few days, washing your hair and body thoroughly with your favorite shampoo and lotion - the one you had washed yourself with the morning before your little encounter in the closet. 

You picked out your favorite set of comfortable lingerie, along with your trusted halter neck shirt which hugged your breasts all the right places, and your black denim pants with also accentuated your ass perfectly. You did your makeup swiftly and bit your lip as you admired yourself.

You grabbed your purse after slipping on your trusted trench coat, along with your wedge boots. He’d texted you his address, and it actually wasn’t far from where you lived. 

You felt your heart beat faster the closer to his apartment you walked, your mind working over every possible outcome of this dinner. 

Would it be awkward? Would you give into temptation as soon as he opened the door? Or would you just.. be there? You weren’t sure. Before you knew it, you were standing outside his door.

J. B. Barnes and N. H. Mitchell.

Maybe this was a bad idea. You sighed deeply before raising your fist to knock on the door. It swung open before you had the chance to knock, and there he was, in all his perfect human form. 

James Barnes. His face lit up when he saw you there, smiling widely as he welcomed you. He hugged you after pulling you inside, his body relaxing visibly.

“I’m so happy you agreed to come. You look amazing.” He said as he helped you take off your coat and boots. You smiled and followed him around as he showed you his apartment. 

There was no indication that he was living with someone, there were barely any picture frames or other things scattered on the walls. You ended up in the kitchen, where he offered you a glass of red wine.

You sipped your wine slowly, eyeing James as he strode around the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t need any help with the cooking?” He turned his head and smiled, shaking his head softly. 

Everything was already cooking and smelling delicious. You felt your mouth water and realized you hadn’t actually eaten anything today.

“It’s alright, love. I got it” You nodded and took another sip of your wine. You certainly needed the alcohol, if you were going to survive being in the same room as the man you had been lusting for and thinking about for the past week. So far it was coming along okay.

He placed a plate of the most delicious looking food you’d ever seen. “You made this? From scratch?” You eyed the man in front of you as he sat down in front of you, before his own plate, offering you a smile.

“Well, a man’s gotta have some talents, right?” His lips curled up into a flirtatious smirk, winking at you before he took a large gulp of his own wine. You dug into your food, mewling over how amazing the beef melted on your tongue. 

You eyed each other intensely over dinner, downing way more wine than you’d anticipated. As you finished up dinner, you had filled your glass for the third time, the tension in the room suddenly disappearing.

You wondered why he’d invited you over after ignoring you for a good week. You were hoping for some kind of clarification as to why he ghosted you and then contacted you. Had he changed his mind? Had he regretted it? Just fucking you in a closet and leaving you to your own misery?

“I’m sorry.” you looked at him with wide eyes, as if he’d told you someone died.

“Excuse me?” he moved to the chair beside yours and took your hand.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come on to you like that. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. I’ve felt like absolute shit for the past week. God, you must hate me. I was so nervous about texting you back, even though you texted me all week… And now I feel even worse because of what I might've put you through, what you might’ve felt…” he sighed and his eyes fell to the ground between both your legs. 

You sat there in silence. You felt a slight caress on the back of your hand, and you looked up to divert the tears forming in your eyes.

“James, I-” your sentence was cut short as you felt his hands coming around to clasp your neck, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss, and you sighed contently.

“I’m sorry. Things have been really hard with my partner for the last couple of months and when I first saw you, I… I felt something. Something I haven't felt in a while. I felt your admiration and… It’s just been so long since I felt so attracted to someone so quickly before. I just knew I had to get you. Somehow. And I did that completely wrong.” 

He let out a small laugh. You watched him intensely as he poured his heart out to you. "Y/N... I feel like I'm at war with myself. It feel unbearable at times. But you... You changed something. I don't know what but.."

“James, I don’t blame you. Yes it was like fucking shitty of you, and I’ve never felt so used but… I also enjoyed it. It made me feel things. I think I liked you from the first eyeroll you spared me that day.”

Last night, when James texted you, he was desperate. He was drinking to forget, his high end whiskey disappearing quicker than he’d like to admit. He wanted to text you back for the entire week, but he would overthink every time. 

In a way, he was almost grateful for the whiskey for giving him the courage to text you. It turned out better than he’d hoped, because he was finally able to look at you again in person. He missed you. But he knew you were still hurt.

“Doll, I… I wanted to text you. I just couldn’t. I thought that maybe you wouldn’t like me after the way I treated you that day. I was rougher than I wanted to be, but God I was so frustrated, between the shoot and Noah… I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It just feels like... like every beat of my heart is killing me slow.” He sighed, but his mood instantly perked up when you kissed him suddenly.

“We’re here now, right? I’m giving you a chance to fix it,” you told him. He looked at you and smiled slightly, kissing you again.

“Well, if I had my way, I’d make love to you all night. No interruptions.” You moved closer to him, ghosting your lips across his before kissing his jaw.

“Then have it your way, James.” you sighed against his jaw. He pulled you to your feet and grabbed your hips, signaling for you to jump. You wrapped your legs around his hips and he carried you through the apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights. 

Your back landed on his bed gently, and his hands found your body in the dim light. His fingers found the hem of your shirt and he pushed it up lightly, leaving fluttered kisses on your stomach.

Your shirt and bra slowly made it off your body. James took his time in admiring and worshipping your body - something he hadn’t done the first time. 

His lips grazed over your erected nipples, one at a time, and you sighed softly. He removed his own shirt, and you felt the warmth of his torso as he laid himself on top of you, his mouth once again finding yours in a searing kiss.

You rolled the both of you over, straddling his waist. You scooted down his thighs, your hands finding and unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, before pulling them down his legs. You seated yourself directly over his hips, feeling the prominent erection in his boxers against your denim-clad core.

He grabbed you by the hips and rolled you both over yet again, him laying on top of you, stroking your sides as he made out your features in the dark. He gave you a kiss before sitting back on his knees in between your legs, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down your legs slowly. 

Your panties joined the pants on the floor, and you gasped when you felt him shift in between your legs, his lips ghosting their way down the inside of your thigh.

“James, please..” you breathed out as his tongue licked a flat stripe up your pussy. You gasped as his tongue moved around your clit in circular motions, his thumbs caressing the back of your thighs. 

Your hands slid down into his hair, grasping the locks tightly. “That feels so good, please don’t stop” you moaned, your nails scraping over the crown of his head. You felt him smile against you, and you giggled softly.

“I told you not to stop!” you whined as you felt him retract his lips from your core. He let out a low chuckle as you felt the bed shift, your vision still not used to the darkness.

“I’ve got something better in mind for you than just my tongue, darling…” You heard him rustling around and wondered what he was up to. You giggled as you heard the sound of a foil packet being ripped open and a few seconds passing, before he was on top of you yet again.

“Oh so now you bother with protection?” You giggled as you remembered your encounter in the closet, where he didn’t even bother pulling out. He shushed you just as you felt him slide into you, and you both let out a simultaneous moan. 

He was slow and forceful, his thrusts deep but loving. His lips found yours and he kissed you deeply, the implied feelings in the kiss taking you aback.

His hands roamed over your body as he kept his pace, and you were sure you’d never felt sex this way before. It was full of passion and love and you clung to him like it was a matter of life or death. 

His hands came around you to grip your waist, pulling you unimaginably closer to him, and you moaned loudly at the fullness of him inside you. His pelvis ground against your clit in the best way possible, quickly bringing you close with both the love, the force and the pace he set.

You bit down on his shoulder slightly, muttering out incoherent things as he flipped the both of you over, settling you on his hips again. You ground your hips against him slowly, savoring everything - how he filled you, his length fitting into you like a perfect match, his hands holding your hips the most delicate way possible… In that moment, all you felt was love.

And you came hard, riding a wave of euphoria mixed with pure desire. You muttered out sweet curses as you clenched around him, his hands moving your hips as your movement halted. 

His eyes made you out in the darkness, and he admired you as you came, bringing himself over the edge. His hands tightened around your hips and you felt him throbbing inside of you. You laid down on his chest, fully spent and he pulled out of you slowly.

He laid you on your side as he got up, chucking the used rubber into the bin by his bedroom door. He shuffled back to the bed, pulling you into his side as he laid back, and you moved over so your head was laid on his shoulder, and you wrapped your arm around his abdomen.

“I’m still kinda hurt that you ignored me like that, James. Even with your lovely apology,” you whispered into his shoulder, tracing mindless patterns onto his chest. His grip around you tightened, and he sighed.

“I know, love. It’s just, technically I’m cheating and I do kinda feel bad, because I used to love Noah. I haven’t loved them for a while now, but we’re still technically together…” He took a deep breath and you could feel his heartbeat fluctuating. You looked up at him and noticed he was trying to hold in tears. You propped yourself up on your elbows and stroked his cheek.

“James, hey, it’s okay. I can leave if you want me to.” His lip quivered, and his voice was shaky when he spoke.

“Please stay.”