#no but I am so sorry I’m so slack with posting on here

[jamnsketch]

just like the pet you couldn’t keep

#long time no see tumblr girlies ! #no but I am so sorry I’m so slack with posting on here #anyways Amanda saw #saw #saw fanart #saw franchise #saw 2004 #saw 3 #saw 3 fanart #Amanda young #Amanda young fanart #fanart #shawnee smith #drawing #art #sketch #my art #portfolio #illustration #digital art #wlw #wlw artist

[nickfowlerrr]

i never thought you’d happen to me - 1

part two / part three

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut (part two), fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀 (part two). if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!

words: just a bit over 6k.

notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card.

fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think! 🥰

It’s another late Friday night as you and the team lounge around the common room, nearly empty takeout containers scattered around the table, glasses and bottles of your drinks much the same. There’s a movie no one is watching playing on the large screen as the current conversation around you continues.

You’re not sure how telling a story from your last mission with Bucky has turned into this once again, but here you are. Another cute remark from Sam about his expectancy to be in the wedding party earns him another glare from you.

“Hey, you side-eye now but in ten years you’ll look back and realize how right we all were,” he says, elbowing Bucky slightly. “Tinman by your side,” he adds with a grin - clearly amused with himself.

“That is not my future,” you say with a humorless chortle.

“I can show you your future,” Wanda speaks from her spot on the couch, everyone turning their heads at once to look at her. She’s been unusually quiet the past few minutes - not engaging much in the conversation as she observed it instead. She takes another sip of her wine as she meets your gaze, foot swinging lazily as she keeps one leg crossed over the other.

She tilts her head at you while you eye her with a raised brow, a look of incredulity on your face.

“What?” she questions, confused at not only yours, but everyone’s, lack of response.

“Come on,” you laugh lightly, brushing her off.

“I’m serious.”

“Wanda, I don’t need to see what my future looks like to know that Bucky will be playing no part in it.”

A round of scoffs, snickers and a groan erupt from around the living room as you roll your eyes. You catch Bucky, seated across from you, doing the same as you turn your face.

“You’re all very funny, and I’m glad you’re amused with yourselves, but I can’t sit here and listen to the same inane conversation over again, soooo,” you pause for a breath, “I’m going to bed,” you clap as you stand from your spot on the couch.

“Look, I don’t speak for everyone, but I am not joking in the slightest,” Kate laughs as she leans back into her seat. Aiming finger guns at you and Bucky, “You guys,” she says, “are endgame.”

“And you, my friend, are drunk.”

Another round of laughs before the previous chatter resumes among the group, a story of misadventure now being told from Parker’s perspective, and you can hear Stark’s interjections already.

You grab your empty glass and head to the kitchen, Wanda following shortly after you.

“You’re stubborn,” she says with no preamble.

You turn with a quirked brow, “Am I?”

“Very. So much so, I think I may need your permission.”

“Sorry...uhm, for?” you ask, clearly confused.

“I think you should see it.” Your face falls slack at her words as you turn back to finish washing out your glass.

“Wanda, -” you go to laugh again.

“No, actually,” she stops you, correcting herself, “you need to see it. You’re stunting yourself. You’re constantly getting in your own way. I think it’d be good for you, to see what you can have if you finally allow it to come to you.”

You're quieted by her sincerity for a moment, half because you weren’t taking any of the previous conversation seriously, and half because you didn’t think it was something she was actually capable of doing. In fact, you still didn’t. But if she wanted to try, who were you to argue.

“Uhhh,” you begin, shaking your head lightly, “I mean, if you really want to, then, go for it, I guess. You have my permission.”

“Good,” she smiles, turning to walk back out to the other’s.

“Wow, wait,” you stop her, “like, what exactly are you gonna do?”

“Just a swap,” she says simply. “A day in the life of your future self. You don’t have to do anything, just go to sleep tonight and you’ll see.”

Your eyes narrow in thought, “...This isn’t dangerous, right?”

“No, not at all. You guys will be fine. 24 hours and you’ll wake up in your own beds, safe and sound. I promise.”

She smiles and flits away quickly. You shake your head at yourself again, still unsure what exactly you’ve agreed to. And it isn’t until you’re walking down the hallway back to your room that what she said actually catches up to you.

You guys will be fine?

You stop walking when you hear footsteps behind you, glancing back to find Bucky coming down the hall. You swallow hard and turn back around, not far from your door.

“Stalker much?” you say without facing him, earning a scoff in return.

He’s barely a step behind you now, though his sudden proximity is not all that surprising. You’ve grown used to his stealth.

“In your dreams.”

“More like waking nightmares. Every time I turn around it’s like you’re always just right there.”

“Maybe if you didn’t put yourself into jeopardy every five minutes I wouldn’t have to shadow you so often.”

You’re walking side by side and you get to your door as he speaks. You turn on him, instantly irritated.

“Are you being serious?” you level at him. He doesn’t respond. “How are you still hung up on Belarus? It was one mission. That was not on me, I didn’t fuck up. No one else saw them coming, either,”

“I did.”

“Well, sorry I’m not as infallible as the one and only Bucky Barnes,” you speak exaggeratedly, annoyance clear in your tone. “You still act like I’m some kind of liability. I’ve been careful. I’m riding a lengthy no injury streak and we’ve still yet to fail a single mission. After how many assignments we’ve been on together, you think you’d start taking me more seriously.”

“I never said I didn’t take you seriously. Just think sometimes you’re still a little too cocky for your own good.”

“For the thousandth time, I’m not clueless, Barnes. I don’t need you monitoring my every move. Not during training, not on missions, and definitely not walking down a hallway at night. I think I can handle getting to my room alone. Or is assuming that too cocky of me?” you ask with a tilt of your head, sarcasm dripping off your tongue.

You don’t wait for a response before you turn to your door and let yourself in, snapping it shut behind you.

You flick on the light and are quickly greeted by a room that is… definitely not yours. You pause for a second, taking in your surroundings before you deflate with a sigh, following it up with a deep breath. You turn the light back off and then turn back around to the door. You wait for a second longer with your hand on the handle before you force yourself to exit the room.

Just like you knew he would be, Bucky is still standing right where you left him; a stupid smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

“Wrong room,” he says.

“Fuck off,” you grumble as you walk a little further down the hall, to your actual door.

“Goodnight to you, too,” Bucky says as he continues to his own room, not far from you. You send him a glare and a “hmph” before shutting your door and getting ready for bed.

You’re not helpless. You’re not clueless. You’re damn good at what you do. But fuck if Bucky doesn’t have a knack for knocking you off kilter with a single look.

—-

It’s a soft shaking that wakes you from your peaceful sleep. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move - you don’t even want to blink open your eyes. But the shaking comes again. Your brows furrow as your arms tighten around your pillow and you cuddle further into it.

Only it’s not your pillow.

It takes a second for you to process that instead, it’s a warm body you’re pressing yourself against before your eyes snap open.

You look up and find a confused Bucky staring down at you.

When your eyes meet, though, there’s a bit of softness there. And as you take in his face, you relax a bit again. His presence beside you is at once comforting as it is confounding.

“What are you doing?” you both ask at the same time - only furthering your confusion.

You suddenly realize you’re still wrapped around him and quickly sit up and give him space.

“Why are you in my bed?” you ask as you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he says as he looks around, “but I don’t think we’re at the tower.”

You look up and blink away the fuzziness. Then it hits you.

“Oh shit,” you murmur.

“What? You know where we are?” he asks as he stands and starts looking around, inspecting the room. “Better yet, how the hell we got here?”

“Maybe…Would you believe me if I said we might possibly be in the future?”

Bucky turns and looks at you incredulously.

“Wanda,” you speak at the same time.

“For fuck’s sake,” he says as he runs a hand over his face.

“In my defense,” you begin, “when I agreed to this, I didn’t think she’d be able to do it. I also didn’t think it’d involve anyone else..”

“What do you mean you agreed to this? What is this?”

“She said I needed to see the future. It’d be good for me, or whatever, so I said okay. She said it was uh, a future swap? 24 hours. Day in the life and then I’d wake up back in my own bed the next day.”

“And you agreed to it?”

“Fuckin’, yeah, obviously,” you huff. “I didn’t think it’d be.. Real? I don’t know.”

“So, so what? We’re stuck in some unknown future for the next 24 hours?���

“What part of ‘I don’t know’ do you not understand?”

“Why would you agree to something like this without fully knowing what it is you’re agreeing to? This is exactly what I’m talking about when I say-”

“Spare me, Barnes. It’s Wanda, okay? We’re fine. It’s 24 hours, and I’m assuming that clock started when we fell asleep last night, so really it’s only…,” your voice dies down as you look to the clock on the bedside table. The time isn’t what catches your eye, though.

No.

It’s the framed photo behind it that derails your train of thought.

“No fucking way,” you breathe as you grab it in disbelief.

You stare at the photo of you and Bucky, a close up of you in a sweet embrace, adorning soft smiles as you share a chaste kiss, your left hand touching his cheek, and what you can only assume is a wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.

This has to be some kind of dream. That’s it. You’re dreaming. Duh. Your hand moves before your mind does and you slap yourself in your face as hard as you can manage, sure it’ll wake you up and you’ll be back in the tower, in your own bed, alone.

“What the fuck?!” Bucky exclaims in surprise as you wince slightly and hold your cheek as it stings. He walks over to you, becoming more tentative as you look up at him.

“‘M not dreaming. Are you?”

“No, I’m wide awake, believe me,” he says as he gets closer. “Don’t slap me, either.”

You eye him harshly before handing him the frame.

“Well, it.. Explains why you’re here, at least,” you say, voice quieter than you intended as your thoughts were still reeling. “We’re not just in my future, we’re in-”

“Our future,” he finishes as he stares at the photo himself.

“Yeah.”

“So, our room…” he says more to himself than to you. He makes his way around the room, pulling open drawers and looking in the closet as you stand and head for the bathroom.

You meet yourself in the mirror, sure enough, you still look the same. You’re you.

Walking back out into the room, you head for the window, pulling back the curtain. As you peer out, you’re expecting to see a skyline, or city street, but instead you’re met with the view of an open yard.

You pull away from the window in surprise, “Are we in a house?”

You turn to Bucky, who turns to face you. You both head to the bedroom door, you following behind him as he takes the lead.

It’s a house. Definitely a house.

The bedroom door leads to a long hallway, three doors along the right back wall, another door at the far end opposite your own, and to the left of that, on the left wall, is another room.

In the middle of the hallway is an opening, and you and Bucky turn there without inspecting any of the other rooms.

You find yourselves in a living room, before walking into the kitchen.

“We should look around,” you say in a whisper - why, you aren’t sure.

“What exactly are you planning on finding?” he questions as you pull open a drawer, sifting around.

“I don’t know? More information. Like what we’re doing here. What we do. What year it is. Maybe we learn something and it’ll send us home sooner? I don’t know, just, something,” you answer, on edge already by being surrounded by the unknown and only growing more agitated at his every word.

“Why are you getting mad at me?”

“I’m not getting-,” you stop yourself, taking a breath, “sorry. Okay? I thought you were trying to be a dick,”

“Why do you assume I’m being a dick?” he asks, annoyed himself now.

"Because you always act like a fucking dick!", you nearly yell as you slam the kitchen drawer shut.

"Fucking dick!"

You both freeze at the high, sweet-sounding voice that comes from behind you. Your brows furrow as you glance at Bucky, his reaction to the mirthful echo much the same as yours, before you both slowly turn around.

The sight you're met with has you both frozen in shock.

A set of twin toddlers clad in matching pajamas, both of whom bear a striking resemblance to you and Bucky, are staring at you both.

You can't explain why, but your heart is gripped by the mere sight of them. It's something more than just their cuteness, it's something instinctual. How it's possible, you're not sure, but you know, somehow, that they're really yours. Future or not, those are absolutely your kids.

It seems with each passing moment, you and Bucky are left more and more stunned by how your future is turning out, but as you notice the little boy's eyes watering and the pout on his little lips as he looks right at you, you can't seem to care about anything else.

“Hey, buddy,” you squat down and hold your arms open for him, and he waddles to you right away as his eyes well more and more. He hugs you, still pouting as he cuddles into your chest and you hold him tightly as you stand, exchanging another glance with Bucky who looks nearly stupefied until the soft voice of the girl rings out once again.

Your eyes shoot to her as she twirls around clumsily, a chant of "fucking dick" leaving her lips over and over before she starts to tilt, seemingly having made herself dizzy. You're about to gasp, moving forward instinctually as you watch her wobble a bit more, but she's in Bucky's arms in an instant as he grabs her before she falls.

"Woah, there, sweetheart," he says with a small laugh as she dramatically goes limp in his arms. An exhausted breath leaves her little lungs as she breathes out the repetition one final time. She then lifts her tiny hand up to Bucky’s cheek, effectively slapping him as she plants it, blinking up at him. “What’s this?” she asks him curiously as she smooshes his face, feeling his stubble.

“Uhh…It’s hair. I haven’t shaved - Ow,” he exaggerates when she interrupts him and pats his cheek again, a bit harder this time, though you know it didn’t hurt him in the slightest. It makes the girl laugh, though.

“You should shave, Daddy,” she advises, pulling a face.

Her words pull a breathless laugh from him as he gazes down at the small girl, a lump forming in his throat as he takes everything in. He feels crazy, but he can see you in her, and he can see himself, too. Her and her brother, they both look like the perfect little combinations of the two of you. And they’re both so comfortable with you guys. So at ease and uninhibited, just like children should be..

It’s a stark contrast to how he grew up and he can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, of pride, knowing that he isn’t repeating the cycle he swore would die with him.

He’d stopped letting his mind wander to what if futures long ago, but when he did imagine what it’d be like to have a family of his own, this is the kind of peace he longed for. The happy, settled down future he was sure he’d never have.

And you.

Your hand has been mindlessly rubbing the boy's back in an effort to comfort him as he cuddles into you, that never faltering pout pulling every string your heart has as Bucky attends to the girl relaxing in his arms.

"Linc's sad, Mommy," the girl says, pointing at her brother. The title has you swallowing hard, your heart clenching at how sweetly she calls to you.

Linc?... Must've been Bucky, you think briefly before you gently pull him away from you slightly so you can see him better, his bleary blue eyes peering up at you.

"Why are you yelling at Daddy?" he pouts still. Your brows furrow and mouth parts on an inhale, as if you're going to answer him, but nothing comes out as you try and think of what you can say. His innocent question stumping you.

"It's alright, pal, we were just kiddin' around," Bucky offers as he gets closer to you both. You look at him, a bit guilty but thankful for the save.

"Can we have pancakes, Daddy?" the girl asks as she wriggles around like a worm in his hold.

"Pancakes! Please!" Linc smiles as he continues hanging onto you, seemingly happy with Bucky's defense of you - any qualms he had long forgotten as he’s now focused on the mention of pancakes for breakfast.

"Sure," you answer for him, acquiescing easily with a smile before looking to Bucky with wide eyes.

You’re not entirely sure how exactly this all happens, but somehow you end up married with two kids. As shocking as it is, and as confused as you are about how, a part of you is grateful - maybe even happy - that Bucky is here. He may be an ass a lot of the time, overbearing and micromanaging your every move, but you guys have been through hell and back together. Partners from the very start of your time as an Avenger. If you’re being honest, this future makes more sense than you previously wanted to admit.

In an attempt to not freak out the twins, you know you have to play the part. Act like nothing is out of the ordinary and that you are indeed their mom. You are, technically, but you don’t have any idea what the hell you’re doing or what’s wholly needed of you. You’ve nannyed before, though. You know the basics..

"Have we brushed our teeth yet?" you ask the twins, sure the answer is a "no". Your and Bucky's arguing clearly is what woke them up, the yelling must have led them out here from their room.. Rooms?

"Mhm," the girl hums, though just from looking at her, the lie is evident as she avoids looking directly at you.

"Don't lie, Ellie," her brother chastises.

Ellie.. That must've been me, you think with a twitch of a smile before you set Linc down.

"Alright, go with Buc- your dad, and I'll start on the pancakes," you instruct before the twins burst out in giggles. You frown, brows furrowing as you watch them, hoping they'll let you know what exactly is so funny.

"No, we want daddy's pancakes, Mommy!"

"With chocolate chips and syrup!"

"Yeah, they want Daddy's pancakes, Mommy," Bucky taunts with a smirk as you shoot him an annoyed look. He seems a lot more comfortable now than he was a few minutes ago, and you can’t help but notice how easily he seems to be taking this; easing into his role in this place and time. He’s good.

"What's wrong with my pancakes?" you press the toddlers.

"Daddy's are better, but it's okay, your grilled cheese is the best,"

"Yeah! Oh, can we have grilled cheese for lunch, Mommy? Please, please, pleeease," Ellie begs cutely, leaning to you while still in Bucky's hold.

You huff a laugh, agreeing as Bucky sets Ellie down to follow you.

"See if you can find anything," you tell him as you meet his eye before following after the tikes pulling on your hands.

"Don't forget the chocolate, Daddy!"

Bucky watches as you're led to the bathroom before he starts moving around the kitchen. He's about to start looking around for more information on when exactly you are, and the kind of life you’re living, but thinks better of it for now. He'd rather not have two toddlers throw a fit over unfinished pancakes on top of everything else he's trying to wrap his head around at the moment.

He finds the pantry and grabs all the ingredients he needs for his mom's pancake recipe - the one he knows by heart- and gets to work on the batter. The chatter from the kids and you in the bathroom floats into the kitchen and he can’t help but smile at the sound of your voice as you talk to them.

He soon loses himself in the simplicity of the task at hand, and how nice it is to be here like this. He's in pajamas on a Saturday morning, making breakfast for his family as they start their day..

Seems entirely unreal, but a dream nonetheless. And as if that wasn’t enough to have his thoughts in a flurry, he still can't shake the feeling of how nice it was waking up with your soft body pressed against his. Opening his eyes to discover the warmth beside him was you. He was confused at first, wondering when and how you’d gotten into his room, but more so concerned about the why. He watched you for a minute before he noticed the bedding draped over the both of you. It wasn’t his and when he looked around the room, he realized he had no idea where you guys were. You were wrapped around him as you laid together in the comfy king bed, and it took him a second to try to wake you up. He knew he had to, of course, but if he was honest, he didn’t want the feeling to end. Your hold on him was comforting and he was completely at ease in your embrace, circumstances be damned. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in ages.

Though, that wasn’t entirely true. He remembers the last time he felt that way, and of course it was with you. You were stuck in a shoddy motel off the highway during a storm, the crappy jeep you’d been traveling in finally gave out half way through your drive back to the compound and you guys had no choice but to crash for the night. Of course the motel only had one singular room available with one singular bed. After some back and forth, you both decided you’d just share. It was big enough for the two of you, with space in between. When Bucky woke up that next morning, though, he found himself holding you tightly from behind, your arms wrapped over his as you slept peacefully in his embrace. He remembers the heat that crept up his neck and the flurry in his stomach that he still refuses to acknowledge as butterflies. He quickly loosened his hold and slipped away from you before you could even bat an eye. You were still none the wiser. He thought about that morning a lot after it happened.

He wondered what would’ve happened if you had woken up, too. What you would’ve said, what he could’ve said to you if he’d finally gotten out of his own way..

He can’t dwell on it anymore, though. He hasn’t. He won’t.

Except maybe he does.

And seeing as this is your future together, he thinks maybe that’s not as hopelessly embarrassing as he’s made himself believe it is.

And god, the sight of those kids. The warmth that bloomed in his chest as he took in their faces, he honestly was worried he would start crying if he stared too long. He had long given up on the idea of starting a family, he didn't think this life would ever be in the cards for him, and especially not with you.

But as he stood pouring chocolate chip pancake batter into a sizzling pan, he was struck by how right it felt.

Obviously, it wasn't right, neither of you should be here right now, and it made him wonder where exactly the future you and him were.

As soon as the thought went through his head, a tablet he hadn’t taken notice of on the back counter dinged.

He flipped the pancakes before he went to get the pad, taking the tablet in his hands. His face unlocked the device easily and opened up to his email account.

He clicked on the new, unread message from.. you?

—-

Hey Bucky.

Wanda says this is unnecessary but if I know me, I’m still probably freaking out internally. So, just letting you know that everything's fine. Or so she says.

We're gonna be back to our respective places in time come tomorrow.

I know waking up in the future - especially our future - may be hard to wrap your heads around, but it’s a hell of a lot better than waking up alone to a preening Wanda staring at you, trust me.

And you guys aren’t as oblivious as you try to be. You know, deep down, exactly why you’re there. Together. - and why it isn’t all that crazy.

And this goes without saying, but obviously, take care of the kids. Eleanor and Lincoln. If you haven’t found them yet, they’ll find you, I’m sure.

Today at 2pm, you need to drop them off at 7314 Wisteria Drive. That's Steve and Nat's house - so don't make it weird. They're keeping the kids so we can celebrate our anniversary.

Funny how that lines up..

So, anyway, apparently all we need to do on both ends is enjoy the 24 hour downtime. We’ll be waking up in our own beds before we know it.

Okay.

Bye.

(I’d say I love you but I don’t wanna freak you out. x)

—

Bucky just stares down at the email blankly while his brain tries to catch up. He's gonna have to have you read it yourself. Before he can fixate on that last line in particular, he can smell the browning of the pancakes.

His attention quickly returns to the food as he starts to plate it, shutting off the burner. The kiddie plates he finds in a cabinet earn a half smile from him as he cuts up the pancakes for the kids and spots their booster seats, placing the plates before them.

He hears them before he sees them as they come down the hallway, all laughs.

You appear just after they do, a look on your face he can't turn away from. Your soft smile and the adoration swimming in your eyes as you watch your kids, both of them waiting to be lifted up to sit down, is.. beautiful.

He catches himself staring before he turns his focus back to the table, lifting Eleanor into her seat before lifting Lincoln in his, earning a "thank you, daddy," from each of them in return, a wave of astonishment and pride coming over him yet again. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to that.

You listen as they talk back and forth about their pancakes and their laughter when they start playing with one another as they eat their lightly syruped bites.

You stand by Bucky, absentmindedly grabbing a pancake and biting into it, stopping almost immediately as the fluffiness catches you off guard. God, they were so right. These are amazing.

"Good, right?" Bucky's voice pulls you back as you swallow your bite.

You lick your lip before looking over at him. "Did you find anything?"

He hands you the tablet and watches as you read the email.

You click your tongue, and then stay silent for a minute.

He almost can’t believe it when you do it, looking at you incredulously once again after you suddenly slap yourself in the face once more.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he bites quietly, moving to stand in front of you and blocking your view of the kids momentarily.

"Just had to make sure," you reply, again cringing at the stinging of your cheek. You eye him before making a move to slap him, too, but he grabs your hand before you can make contact. He looks at you like you're insane as you huff again. "So this is..."

"This is real," he finishes for you. "That hard to believe, huh?"

"That's an understatement. So, I’m not dreaming. But are you sure you’re not dreaming?"

“You think my dreams involve waking up in the future with no memory of what’s gone on between me going to sleep to waking up? That’s a literal nightmare for me. Plus, I learned a while ago how to differentiate between my dreams and reality. Trust me, we’re not dreaming.”

You swallow thickly, an apology on the tip of your tongue. You hadn’t considered that before. Before you can voice your thoughts, though, you're distracted by the interaction between the kids at the table.

"Linc, I'll give you a piece and then you give me one of your piece, okay?"

"You take this one," Linc says as he gives his sister a piece off of his plate and she gives him a piece off of her's.

You can't help but chuckle at the exchange.

"We make cute kids, though," Bucky says, almost under his breath. But you still hear him, and you respond before your brain catches your tongue.

"Yeah, we do."

You push off the counter as Bucky watches you, surprised that you heard him and even more so by your agreement, though it'd be impossible for anyone to argue that your kids aren’t, in fact, ridiculously adorable.

"Do you guys want -"

"Orange juice, please!" Ellie answers before you even finish asking.

"And water, please," Linc follows.

"OJ and water, you got it."

----

You and Bucky get the kids ready to go to Steve and Nat's with minimal arguing... until you had to pack their bags.

What they should or shouldn't take with them was a point of contention as you ridiculed each other's choices. After your bickering and some input from Ellie and Linc, you guys just hoped they had everything they needed. You'd unnecessarily packed them three outfits each just in case of spills or messes and their diaper bag was loaded full, too. Maybe too much for one day, but better safe than sorry, right?

After loading the twins in the car, Bucky followed the GPS to the address you'd left in the email.

When you guys pulled up to the house, you were greeted by Natasha who was unloading groceries from her car. The domestic scene warmed your heart. She deserved the simplicity, the normalcy, and you were happy to know that one day, she’d have it.

She lit up as she saw you guys approaching and came right over, going straight for the back door.

Linc and Ellie were all smiles and giggles as they tried fruitlessly to escape their car seats in favor of being in Nat's arms.

"Bugs!!" Nat greeted them with an enthusiastic smile as she started working on their belts. "I've missed you guys so much! How long has it been? Ten years?"

They laughed in unison at her before Ellie corrected her. "Yesterday, Aunt Nattie!"

"Yesterday?" she questioned in faux disbelief.

She wasn't able to keep up the play, though as the second they were out of their seats, they nearly tackled her.

You watched Steve come outside, coming up to the car with a grin, a girl no more than ten and another toddler, maybe a little older than the twins, in tow.

"Get them inside for me, honey," Nat said to the oldest one. She looked nothing like either of them, dark hair and dark eyes, but still it was clear she was their daughter. The younger one looked like Steve, though, and you wonder briefly if that was just by chance or if they’d had a surrogate. Natasha had talked about the possibility before, and of adopting, but starting a family wasn’t something any of you were actually considering at the time, settling down and having kids wasn't really your focus when you were all trying to make sure the world wouldn’t be ending tomorrow. "We'll be right in. And pick a movie for the sleepover before your Dad does," she pretended to whisper, earning a laugh from the girl as she corralled the kids up the porch.

Nat turned her gaze back on you and Bucky, her stare nothing less than scrutinizing.

"Are you guys in pajamas?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Mh, uh, yeah," you laughed a little breathlessly before looking back at the house, distracted. "They didn't even say bye," you said in your disappointment. You'd only just met the kids, but you felt so instantly connected to them.

"Don't worry about them, they're gonna have fun tonight. And so are you two," she says pointedly, if not a bit suggestively, pulling you from your thoughts. You feel the heat that creeps up your skin and refuse to look at Bucky.

"What are you guys doin' tonight, did you decide?" Steve asks.

"Staying in," Bucky blurts out as you blink and smile. But their faces at that, their smirks of acknowledgement make you grow hotter as you try to not let your embarrassment show.

"Mhm," you hum tight lipped.

It's quiet for a moment as you all watch one another before Steve breaks the silence.

"You guys are acting weird."

"Are we?" you question back too quickly.

"Yeah. You are," Nat says.

"Sugar," Bucky blurts out again. "They're loaded up on sugar. Sorry, they really wanted pancakes this morning. But uh, look, thanks for watching them. We should uh, get going, so.."

"Yeah, we should go," you agree. "What time do you want us to pick them up?"

"We're dropping them off tomorrow afternoon, right?" Steve questioned. "Or did you not want them to go with us?"

"No, oh, right. Duh! I just forgot - that's what we talked about. Because you're taking them to.." you trail off, prompting them.

"The gardens?" Nat finishes.

"Right, yes, the gardens. Which is great. And we appreciate it so much. And if you need anything or anything happens, ya know just call us," you continue on as Bucky starts to pull away. You fight the urge you have to glare at him until you finish your awkward goodbye and Steve and Nat watch you both drive off, clearly confused about the weird interaction.

"Did you miss the part of the email where it explicitly said: don't make it weird?" Bucky asks.

"Fuck off, you were no better," you scowl as you slump in the seat. "What now?"

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #dad!bucky #mom!reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #the slumberparty

[purpledisastertwin900]

For all of the “Raph raised himself AND his brothers” fans out there I bring this train wreck of a thought (I’m a lil sleepy so sorry if it doesn’t make sense or if I repeat myself a lot-)

We do not in fact have any actual evidence that splinter was neglectful to the boys when they were little. In fact, we have the opposite.

All of these flashbacks indicate that Splinter acc spent a LOT of time with his boys-

With Mikey, he was obviously coached in his art, a smol child can’t paint like that no matter how talented they are so we can see that splinter put in the time/effort to get Mikey the supplies and teach him how to do it well. Which probably means he researched and learned it himself first, idk I just can’t really see Yoshi knowing how to paint/draw that well but that’s just a theory.

With raph and Leo, their lemonade stand is structurally sound: obviously not put together by an 8 year old, and there’s a lotta lemons lyin around that were probably a bit difficult to find, and just LOOK at their faces here they are definitely familiar with this kind of father/son shenaniganizing-also just LOOK at raph. That’s a happy child, one full of excitement and happiness, not a kid who had to grow up too fast. Also his dad is literally right there in the picture

And then with Donnie, I can’t really tell what he’s doing in the background (it’s a bomb) but what i take from that screenshot is that Donnie feels safe/loved enough to come to Splinter when he gets hurt. And Splinters taking care of him!! And, Donnie is wearing clothes, which shows that he went out and got clothes for them but also didn’t force the boys to wear them if they didn’t want to (see other screenshots lol) which also goes to show that he lets his boys choose who they wanna be and what they wanna do. At any point he could’ve forced all of them to train as ninja, at any point he could’ve made clothes mandatory, and at any point he could’ve forced them to drop things that made them happy like skating or science or art but nah. He was supportive every step of the way.

Now am I saying he was perfect? No. Am I saying he couldn’t have done anything better? No. What I��m saying is that Raph acc did not have to raise himself and his brothers. Splinter acc gave them a pretty good childhood, all things considered and it kinda makes me sad when ppl bash Rise Splinter or continue the neglectful parent trope. Again, I’m not saying he did everything right, he def could have spent more time with his kids on an individual basis and he should’ve been more present, but let’s cut him some slack bc he did a really good job at raising the boys. And he got so much better as the show progressed! But that’s another post lol. I’m also not trying to take away Raphs oldest sibling syndrome, he still def has that from being the leader and watching his bros while splinter was away-I’m just saying he didn’t have to do it ALL alone.

Look in the end he’s doing his best and his best was really good for what they had. He’s a good dad, he’s not neglectful.

#sorry if the pictures suck #click for better quality?? idk haha #Rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #tmnt #rise splinter #splinter is a good dad you guys #I will die on this hill #yes he made mistakes but he is improving phenomenally and that’s what counts #Hamato yoshi #splinter hamato #I’m also v sleepy rn so sorry if this don’t make sense #radios realizations

[breeloveschris]

If Only You Knew 11

Pt 10 Pt 12

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: Y/n has the biggest crush on Matthew Sturniolo but Matt doesn’t know she exists until Y/n’s video goes viral and everyone tags him in it

Warnings: cussing

After I sent the video I put my phone on dnd and started packing my suitcase.

I’m not gonna be able to bring everything with me so I guess tomorrow I’m gonna have to buy a storage unit so I can put my stuff in there until I can bring it back home.

I packed a lot of my clothes and some of my shoes, and all of my necessities. Everything I use on a daily basis that isn’t a need, I’m just gonna have to get when I get home.

I went back down stairs to grab boxes from when we moved here. I walked past the living room fast trying to get by without being notice, but that’s when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

I slowly walked backwards looking into the living room, my jaw falls slack. I roll my eyes and continue my way into the downstairs closet.

I grabbed 4 boxes and made my way back to the stairs. “Y/n/n!” You heard with foot steps behind you, “go away Matt” you whispered as a tear fell out of your eye.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” He said as he continued to follow me, I didn’t say anything but open my door so that he could see inside.

“You’re not being serious right now, you can’t just move back home.” He raised his eyebrows as he walked in and looked around, “I can and I am Matt” I rolled my eyes and started building the boxes.

“Why tho? You could just move out of here and move into an apartment or something” he said putting his hands on top of mine to stop me from what I was doing, “Matt please” I whispered with a shaky breath.

He put his hand on my chin and made me look up at him, he frowned even more seeing my red and puffy face.

He grabbed my hands and pulled them behind him, forcing me into a hug. As soon as my head hit his chest I started crying again and hard.

My whole body shook, this was such a good day and everything fell apart so quickly. I blinked my eyes and everything was gone and taken away from me all because of Nia.

He wrapped his arms around my neck and placed his hand on the back of my head pulling me closer. “I’m sorry Matt, that was never my intention. I don’t care about money, I don’t care about fame” I sobbed. He rubbed my back and kissed my Head, “I know” he whispered.

“I’ve only ever wanted you, I only posted that TikTok for fun. I didn’t expect you or Nick to actually see it. I’m sorry.” I cried, “don’t apologize for that princess, you didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you in the first place when I should’ve” he sighed.

There was a quiet knock on the door, we pulled away and I started working on the box again. Matt opened the door and said a quiet “come in”, I whipped my head around to make sure he didn’t let Nia in.

I turned around seeing Chris and Nick walk in, I rolled my eyes and turned back around and starting a new box.

“Oh so you were serious” Nick whispered, This made Matt turn and look at you with a sigh. I stayed silent even tho I know they were waiting for an answer, “I’m sorry for believing Nia over you” Chris whispered, “yea me too, you didn’t deserve that” Nick added.

I sighed and dropped my box, I turned around and looked at them while crossing my arms.

“I don’t know why you’d believe her, I mean thinking about it now.. she was always asking to film with y’all. And when did I ever ask you to besides that one time.” I tilted my head with a shaky voice, this whole thing stressing me out.

“I know, but you gotta see it through our perspective. We’ve had this happen before with even childhood friends.” Nick sighed as he walked a bit closer to me.

“I get that I really do, but I haven’t gave you a reason not to trust me. That’s why I’m so frustrated.” I whispered looking down, my hands were shaking and I felt as though the floor beneath me was gonna give out.

“I know, and we’re sorry, and I’m sorry for being so aggressive I shouldn’t have been so rude” Chris said with open arms for a hug, I looked between the three men standing in front of me.

Noticing they all had sympathy on their faces, I let out a big sigh and shook my head and practically ran into Chris’s arms hugging him tightly. He stumbled back a little from the impact, he laughed and hugged back.

Matt and Nick hug around us with laughter. “Please believe me, I’m sorry Nia was such a bitch” I whispered, Chris pulled away which broke the whole hug.

“Y/n baby, we believe you” Matt said as he put his hands on my face and wiped his thumb under my eye.

“Instead of moving across the country where we couldn’t see you much, come stay with us until you can get an apartment” Nick said with a big smile, “Where would she sleep?” Chris asked confused since they only have three rooms.

“My room? Duh” Matt smirked looking down at me, “gross” Nick said with a disgusted face.

We all laughed but stopped when we heard a knock on the door, my eyes widened and darted to the door. Matt let out a small laugh at my reaction and just pulled me into a hug and started rocking us side to side.

Chris opened the door, “what do you want?” He said with a bored tone, “can I talk to you.. alone” Nia said.

Nick laughed and went to the door, “dude can you just fuck off, we will be out of here soon.” He said as he shut the door in her face.

I giggled into Matt’s shirt, he grabbed my chin and made me look at him. He smiled brightly and kissed my forehead, “let’s get you home my love” he whispered.

After packing two of the big boxes, we put them and my suitcase into my car. I still didn’t have everything packed so I’m still gonna have to come get everything tomorrow and bring it to a storage unit.

Hopefully the boys will help me with that. We walk back out with Matt carrying my pillows, Matt throws it into his car and turns and looks at me.

“Follow me?” He whispered looking down at me, I just nodded and went to turn around.

But he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into him leaving a soft kiss on my lips. I smiled into the kiss as he pulled away and kissed my forehead and walking back to his car.

I turned around seeing nick at my passenger door, “I’m riding with you by the way” he smiled big which made me giggle. “That’s good with me” I smiled as we got in, “pick the music” I said handing him my phone and shutting my door.

Breespeaks: Nia’s out of the picture???

Taglist: @stuniolobbg @iloveneilperry @freshloveforthefit @nicksmainbitch @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosreads @novasturniolo03 @robins-scoop @hearts4chriss @creamoncreamoncream2 @tcvazq @bunbunbl0gs @chrisloyalgf @lilsstvrn @youaremyfiveever @whicked-hazlatwhore @gnxosblog @annamcdonalds67 @1blowyourmind @ilovedasturniolos @bellbottombaby @pinklittleflower @dlyansworld @sleepdeprivedandinsane @sttzee @sturniololol @emerald-09 @kqyslyho3 @beardedstudentsuit @ifilwtmfc @sturnssmuts @luverboychris @bitterspoons @jada-lockwood @h3arts4harry @itwasmarooonn @alorsxsturn @sturnzsblog @sturnad @patscorner @realuvrrr @mssturniolo @itwasmarooonn

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #nate doe #nathan doe #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x y/n #matt x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚-𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏

hello, my babies! I am so so so sorry for disappearing and for not writing! I keep running into writer's block, especially regarding my requests, as there's an overload of smut in there, and there are only so many times you can write smut, haha. I hope you like what I've written, all thanks to sebastian stan for looking so fine and @lovebittenbyevans for putting the idea of cop sebastian in my mind! I am open to turning this into a small series, kinda like what @navybrat817 does with their fics. inspired by this photo

summary - there's a fundraising event in your small town, and you happen to run into the hottest officer in town.

warning - the word cunt is used, and thoughts of feeling something's hand against their private parts.

the gif and header I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

It was a hot day as you walked toward the fundraising function held at the local park. Your cherry-printed sundress flowed perfectly in the breeze, and your pink glossy plumped lips spread into a soft smile as you passed by your friendly neighbours. You approach your friend's coffee stand, thanking her graciously, as she instantly hands you the cold drink. Your lips immediately wrap around the straw, drinking the liquidity goodness into your mouth.

“Sooo, baby. Did you see Sebastian?!” Your friend whisper-yells, staring at you with wide eyes as though she has some secrets to spill. You shake your head, not knowing that he is here. “Oh my god! You need to see him! If you thought he was hot in his uniform, you’re going to be on the ground when you see his outfit!” 

You giggle, shaking your head at your friend’s excitement. “You and every other woman in town are obsessed.” You look through her assortment of snacks she has set out, not wanting to look around for the man you guys are talking about. “How much do you want for the coffee?” You reach into your small pink bag, ready to take out your purse.

“Nothing, it was already paid for before you arrived.” You look at her with furrowed brows, and she smirks at you in response. 

“I have a feeling you won’t tell me who.” You squint at her. “Unbelievable.” You shake your head, “Alright, well. I’m going to go look around for a bit.” You lean over and give her a hug before setting off and beginning to look around at the stalls everyone has set up. You hear laughter, and your eyes follow the sound. There stands the police force, all chatting and having a good time. Your breath hitches as your eyes land on Sebastian, one of the hottest officers in your small town. He stands, glistening into the sun with a tan, his body somehow sparkling. Your eyes move down, gulping as you notice his white wife-beater hugging his figure perfectly, how bulky and oversized his biceps look in it. Your gaze moves down, feeling drool in your mouth as you notice his nicely fit slacks. A whimper nearly falls from your lips. The thing that really ties the whole look together is his little man bun. 

You hear a cheer, followed by your name being called, and your eyes move around the group until you land on Anthony, his hands waving around, causing the other men to look over, and you give a soft smile. “Y/n! Come over, baby!” You walk over, chuckling as his arms wrap around you and bring you into a hug. “We’ve been looking for you! Well, actually… Ow!” You look up in time to see a can bouncing off Anthony’s head, and he glares at someone. “What the hell, man?! That’s littering!”

You turn your head, feeling your heart pound as your eyes connect with pretty blues. Sebastian smirks, giving you a nod. “Sorry, Bud. Couldn’t have you running your mouth, especially in front of this gorgeous woman.” He winks, and you feel your cheeks heat up. He spreads his arms, raising a brow. “Where’s my hug, Princess?” You slowly move from Anthony’s hold and into Sebastian’s. Your arms wrap around him, and you sink into him. Your eyes flutter closed, feeling your head become fuzzy as you take in his delicious scent. How could he smell and feel so nice? He should be illegal. “I see you received the coffee.” Sebastian pulls back and gives you a smirk, his eyes flicker down to your plump lips, and his tongue flicks out as he imagines what your gloss would taste like against his lips. 

“You’re the one who bought this for me?!” You look at him, shocked but not surprised. Sebastian had always managed to pay for your things before you even arrived. He nods before directing his attention to the group, spinning you so your back is against his front and his arms wrap around your waist. Your body heats up, feeling your cunt throb from his actions. “Thank you…” You let out quietly, softly smiling as he leans down and kisses the top of your head in response.

“Damn! You’re wasted being a cop, Stan!” Anthony chuckles, sipping his coffee as he stands with his hand in his pocket. 

Sebastian huffs, “And why is that, Mackie?” Anthony smirks, looking between you and Sebastian.

“Because you’re killing all the ladies!” You burst out into a fit of giggles, “So, you would’ve made a great criminal.” Anthony’s brows wiggle, “Sebastian Stan! Killer of Women! He’s the killer that gets away!” His voice booms, and the other officers laugh. 

“Hmm, I could get on that. But there’s only one lady that I’d love to kill with my charm.” Sebastian smirks, looking down at you without you noticing. He pulls you flush against his body, enjoying the shivers that run through you. You felt nice in his arms. Your gaze followed his tanned arms and landed on his large, veiny hands, accessorised with rings. Ones that make you wonder what they would feel like against your most sensitive part. You enjoy being this close to him. You could feel the jealous daggers from the women around you, but you didn’t care about them. You were in Officer Stan’s arms, the hottest guy in town.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollwork #officer sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fan fiction #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagines #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x fluff

[dear-bunnyboo]

❝Ice Royalty || Jack Hughes❞

my baby Jacky won the poll i put up last night!! this is my first nhl fic here on tumblr so i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

this scenario was actually anonymously requested but i am an idiot and accidentally deleted that person’s request sooo if you are the one who requested for a figure skater!reader, this one is for you. i hope you enjoy it, love.

should i make this a series? comment if you want a part 2 ;)

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: What happens when New Jersey Devils’ star player meets Olympic female figure skating champion?

Warnings: cursing, fluff, first meeting awkwardness, teasing, some light flirting

Series Masterlist || NHL Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Jack mentally groaned as he tried to get rid of the sleep in his system.

The Devils had their usual morning skate but today was the earliest one they’ve ever had. Why? Because according to their team coach— they have been slacking off lately. This usually happens once the team gets back from off season, still hung up over their break.

They would usually get use to the flow of everything pretty quickly before the start of the season but that was proven futile when they lost their first two games.

So here they were, 5 in the morning in full gear walking out of the locker room slightly sluggish.

Jack was quietly twirling his hockey stick as they pile out of the tunnel, but before they could reach the ice they were met with music filling the arena, camera crew surrounding the ice as they followed a woman who was gliding across the ice.

“Excuse me, but what is happening here?” Nico the team’s captain ask the man who stood by the glass watching the production crew.

“I’m sorry but we have booked the rink for this hour for Ms. Y/N Y/L/N’s special on NBC News. We are about to wrap up our last take, if your team can wait for a while that would be great.” Said the man who they were assuming to be the director.

“That was stunning, Y/N! Let’s do that again and then we can wrap up and do the interviews.”

Y/N Y/L/N

Jack swears he knows that name from somewhere, he just can’t seem to know where from.

“Her name sounds familiar” he stated as they proceeded to settle down on the benches where they were directed to stay, they had a clear view of the woman in red who’s back was turned towards them as they touched up her hair and makeup.

“Y/N Y/L/N won gold for figure skating at the Olympics just a month ago.” Dawson piped in as he proceeded to attempt to fix the mess that sat on top of his head.

“She’s legit.” said Luke

Before Jack could even question his brother over the sudden knowledge over professional figure skating his thoughts were cut off by the director yelling.

“Roll Camera… Roll sound… Action!”

And on cue the same music played across the arena. The woman who Jack now know as Y/N started moving gracefully— her arms elongated in front of her as she glided across the ice before jumping high up and spinning and landing without breaking a sweat.

Y/N was laser focused on her routine, the music controlling her body as she continued with her jumps. She slid in front of the bench focusing on her form before pulling through and doing a quad jump and landing successfully gaining her the same euphoric feeling she always feels when doing so.

After doing her last jumps and turns she ended her piece with her last post.

“Cut! That was fantastic, Y/N darling. Take a quick break and then we can start the interviews inside you’re dressing room.” The director instructed before hastily directing the crew to pack up and move inside.

Y/N skated towards her manager and mom who happened to be her coach— they were waiting for her by the benches with her stuff.

“That was amazing as usual, Y/N. You’re mom and I need to look over the questions for the interview, so get dressed and we will meet you at dressing room in an hour or so.” She explained before answering another call.

“You were perfect, my love. Now hurry up get dressed I need to make sure they don’t ask you dumb questions.”

Y/N simply chuckled as she walked off the ice to put on her skate guards on. Once she was done packing up her stuff, she walked towards the direction of her dressing room but before she could a gaggle of hockey players started to clap.

Turning around to face the players who were all sporting their hockey gear, she was met with cheers and praises from the guys causing her cheeks to turn red from the attention.

The guys were now running towards the ice not after giving her a nod or a praise.

“You were amazing.” Said Jack as he neared her.

Facing the brunette she gave him one of her best smiles.

“Thank you, I’ve been doing this my entire life so I better be amazing.” She said jokingly making Jack chuckle.

Now that Jack was in front of her, he marveled over her presence— Jack stared at every single freckle, every glitter on her face before landing on her eyes which was watching him amused.

“Well, I have to go. I still have lots to do.” Y/N chuckled as she turned to move to her dressing room.

Jack finally got out of his daze, mentally slapping himself in the face for potentially creeping the poor girl out by staring at her like a creep.

“Do you even watch hockey?” He yelled to her

“Excuse me?” Y/N turned back around her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

I sounded like a fucking asshole Jack said mentally.

“That’s not what I meant. I-I mean it is what i meant but not the way it sounded— I mean, do you watch hockey?” He rambled.

“Oh yeah, I do. Grew up watching it because of my younger brothers— they play hockey too” Y/N smiles. Jack pretty much almost melted on the spot.

“No way? Really?”

“Yeah, they are part of the USA Development Program— they’ll be drafted soon.” Y/N praises her younger brothers as Jack watched her in amusement

Unbeknownst to him, his teammates were watching him in amusement as well.

“That’s so cool, wait so if you grew up watching hockey that means you know–” Jack finishes by pointing at himself.

“I do know who you are, Jack” she chuckles.

“Oh, well I wouldn’t have known cause you didn’t come up and–”

“Scream and begged for a picture and an autograph? I could if you’re into that sorta thing.” She cuts him off slightly teasing him which Y/N found entertaining.

“No! I didn’t mean that. Fuck, I probably sound like an ass.” He sighs rubbing his neck.

“You don’t. It’s cool, you are cool.” Y/N maintained eye contact the entire conversation slightly intimidating Jack in the process.

“I really need to go, Jack. It was nice meeting you.” She said checking her phone before smiling back at him again.

“Yeah yeah, I’m sorry for holding you up, but before you go–” he said before mustering up the courage to ask her, “would you want to come to our game this weekend? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Y/N simply giggled and smirked at him.

“What makes you think I don’t have a ticket already?”

“You do?” He asked shocked.

“I do. Now, you’re teammates have been watching us for a while now, they must be waiting for you. Practice hard and score for me on Saturday.” She winked before walking away from the now astounded hockey player.

“Told you she’s legit.” Luke skated towards him laughing at his face in the process.

She’s legitimately gonna be his end. Jack knows it.

dividers: @cafekitsune

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUESTS AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡

-𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲ఌ

#jack hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 49

It's here!!! The final part of this massive fic. 😭 I can't believe we're finally at the end. I'm still in shock that I get to close the door on this fic that has taken up the last three years of my life. I have so many emotions running through me right now. 🥺

The epilogue will be posted during @elriel-month in addition to a little surprise I'm so excited to share with you. Stay tuned!! 💜💙💚

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

This part also features descriptions of birth and complications from it.

Word Count: 7,225

Elain had spent a good portion of the late morning getting ready for the baby shower scheduled for noon. At just over eight months pregnant, they were cutting close to the wire of the twins’ arrival.

She was beyond exhausted. Growing the babies was work enough, but she ached everywhere at this point. Her boobs, her hips, her ankles. Her back…that hurt the worst. She looked like she swallowed two extra large watermelons. Elain hadn’t seen her feet in two and half months and she was praying that her toenails looked well enough for sandals today.

On top of her aching body, she also slept like shit the night before, having woken up in the wee hours with Braxton Hicks contractions that seemed to never want to go away. They were getting obnoxious at this point.

Oh! And her boobs had already started leaking. Aside from the contractions, Elain also woke up to a soaked sleep shirt and an attitude that poor Azriel was desperately trying to keep calm. She felt bad that her irritation got directed at him, but he took her mood swings in stride, giving her the space when she needed it, and focusing on taking care of Kaden and getting him ready for the party.

Her husband knocked lightly before entering their bedroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it when he saw her standing there in an ugly pair of panties and a strapless bra—which she had no idea how it was going to hold up her tits, but here they were. “Hello, my love. How are you doing?” he asked, striding further into their room. He was already dressed in black slacks and a white button-down rolled up to his elbows. It was one of her favorite looks on him. Casual but classy and sexy as hell.

“I’m all right. Better than this morning,” which was true. In the time she took to get ready, she felt her irritation slowly dissipate. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

He gifted her a soft smile he reserved only for her and their children. “El, you’re carrying two babies. You’re allowed to let out your frustrations. I’m here to spar if you need it, you know that.”

She knew he meant spar as in letting her yell and shout and hiss words until she felt better while he just took it. Gods, he really was the perfect husband. Elain held out her coco butter lotion towards him. “Do you mind rubbing this on me and helping me dress?”

Azriel took the bottle from her outstretched hands, dropping a sweet kiss on her plump lips before squirting some into his scarred palms and gently rubbing it all over her swollen stomach. He knelt before her, dutifully getting every inch of her covered. “You are so beautiful, Elain,” he murmured, kissing her at the fullest part of her belly.

She snorted. “I am a beached whale who ate too much.”

“You are a gorgeous woman carrying life inside of her womb. That will always be beautiful, sweetheart.”

How he always knew what to say was beyond her, but she tugged him up off the ground to kiss him thoroughly. It should’ve annoyed her with how just a few sweeps of Azriel’s tongue had every concern and irritation simply melt away. He knew when to play that card and fuck did he play it well.

But even his tongue couldn’t stop the hiss of pain as another contraction wracked her body.

He immediately pulled back at the sound, eyes scanning her face. “Are you all right?” he asked, concern etched into the tone.

She breathed through the wave that tightened in her abdomen. “Braxton Hicks contractions,” she said as an explanation.

 His brows shot into his hairline. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

Elain reached up to cup his cheek in her palm, her thumb swiping over the stubble there. “No, it’s a normal thing this late in the pregnancy. I’ve had a few this morning starting before dawn. It’s why I was grouchy.”

Understanding lit his face and he carefully ran his hand down her stomach again. “Why didn’t you wake me this morning?”

She huffed a laugh. “Because I knew you’d go into full-birthing-dad-mode and neither one of us would’ve slept any longer.”

Azriel shot her an unamused glare. “You will be thanking me for that birthing-dad mode when you’re in labor and I have everything packed up within minutes.”

This time Elain laughed loud and joyfully. “Yes, you’re probably right.” She nodded to the dress on the bed. “Help me slip that on?”

He grabbed the fabric, bunching it in his large fists, and pulled it over her head. It was an off-the-shoulder, loose, pale pink cotton dress, decorated with roses. It looked vintage, gathering just under her bust, with oversized puffy sleeves that sat off her shoulders, over her biceps. Ruffles accentuated the bottom hem, emphasizing the vintage style. It was the perfect spring dress. When Elain first saw it at the store, she knew she had to buy it for the shower.

Azriel tugged her loose curls from the back of the dress, letting them brush against her spine. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder before grabbing the rose-pendant necklace he bought to go with the dress and draping it around her delicate neck. “Perfect,” he murmured onto her skin, his smile pressing against her neck.

Elain sighed softly, reaching up to thread her fingers through his dark hair. “How am I still horny for you?”

He nipped at her throat, a rumble shaking his chest. “Because you know I can deliver what you need without even blinking.”

This time she laughed, letting his hands run across her body in possessive little touches.

Azriel brazenly cupped her sex through the dress, growling as she let out a mewling sound and began to writhe against those skilled fingers, searching for the friction she desperately craved. “Would you like to fuck my hand, love?” he murmured, mouth grazing her jaw.

Elain fell slack against him, letting his strength hold her up. “Az,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut as he began to rub her in earnest. “Please.”

He nipped the curve of her ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. “You beg so prettily, El.” Bunching up the dress in a fist, Azriel slid her panties aside, swiping his fingers over her soaked pussy. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet for me. Always desperate for my touch.”

She gripped him, nails digging into his exposed forearms. “I need—I need,” she panted out, wiggling in his hold. “Please, Az.”

Giving her exactly what she wanted—needed—Azriel sunk his middle finger into her aching cunt, pumping once before adding a second digit. “Such a good girl,” he whispered, thrusting in and out of her. The heel of his palm grazed her clit sending bolts of pleasure up her spine.

Elain bit her lip, stifling the moan that threatened to burst from her. His fingers scraped along that special spot inside of her, building her up and up and up until she teetered on the edge of bliss.

Barely conscious of her surroundings, Elain caught the sound of the door handle jiggling, followed by a “Momma!”

Azriel clapped a hand over her mouth as he continued his machinations. “Momma’s getting dressed, Kaden. We’ll be out in a minute,” he called out, pressing his palm firmly on her clit and sending her spiraling into her orgasm.

Too far gone to care, she tumbled into sweet oblivion, coming hard on his fingers. Elain moaned, only quieted by the muffling against her husband’s scarred hand.

He worked her through her release, slowing his movements when she started to come down from her high. Az peppered her skin with sweet kisses, removing his fingers from her pussy and readjusting her panties back into place before letting the dress fall back down. “Better, my love?”

“I’m gonna have to change my underwear, but yes.” She twisted in his arms, catching him sucking his fingers clean. Elain brought his mouth down to hers, tongue licking the drop of her release dotting his bottom lip. “Thank you, husband.”

He smiled into their kiss, deepening it once more. “I’ll go check on Kaden while you finish up. We’ll head out when you’re done.”

Twenty minutes later, they were in the car on their way to Rhys and Feyre’s place. It was a gorgeous day full of sunshine, the air warm with the oncoming of summer. It was as if even the Mother wanted to grace her presence on that day with her radiance. They really couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day for a baby shower.

“Momma?” Kaden called from the back seat. “Where are we going?”

His speech had improved so much since they first brought him home that the therapist they hired had told them after the end of the school year, that he likely wouldn’t need to continue seeing a specialist to catch him up. He was reading and writing the way a five-year-old should be and was on track to pass kindergarten with flying colors.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Remember how we talked about going to Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys’s for the baby shower today.”

He seemed to think about that. “What’s a baby shower?”

Her lips quirked up at his curious mind. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked about where babies came from again. “It’s a party to celebrate the upcoming arrival of your brother and sister.” Her hand came to rest on her belly instinctively.

His face scrunched up. “Will I have to take a bath again?”

Azriel let out a snort, glancing at her. “It’s a fair question.”

She laughed. “No, sweetheart. Not that kind of shower. To shower with love. The party is just to celebrate the babies before they arrive.”

“Will there be cake?” he asked, excitement lighting up his face at the prospect of sweets.

“For my sister’s sake, there better be.” Elain’s late-stage pregnancy craving was anything sweet. Cookies, cakes, pastries, whatever she could get her hands on, she was eating it. Azriel was barely able to keep the pantry stocked with desserts for her to snack on.

Her husband chuckled. “If she doesn’t, we’ll stop by a bakery on our way home and get each of you a cake. How’s that sound?” he asked, grasping her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.

She grinned. “You spoil me.”

He looked at her then. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

They were fashionably late to their baby shower, and Elain completely blamed her husband’s morning sexual charade for the delay in their arrival. Not that she minded at all. She had another Braxton Hick contraction in the car, Azriel eying her with worry and once again asking if they should make a pitstop at the hospital just in case.

But that would’ve made them even more late and Elain knew it was unnecessary.

All of their friends and family were waiting for their arrival. And she hated being late.

“What am I going to do with you gone for six months, Elain?” Thesan teased, taking a sip of his beer.

She shot a devilish grin at the head nurse sitting on the couch across from her. “I’m sure Viv would love to pick up all the slack.”

Viviane squawked in outrage and pointed a menacing finger in her direction. “Don’t put your work on me while you’re enjoying your babymoon, Elain Archeron-Knight.”

The group laughed as she pushed herself up off the couch. Another contraction hit her and she winced, catching the attention of the sharp-eyed nurse. But before she could ask, Kaden came bounding up to her, tugging on the skirt of her dress.

“Momma, can I have a cake pop?” He looked up at her with those damn puppy eyes he knew she couldn’t resist.

Elain ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, sweetie. Only one. You don’t want to spoil your appetite for Uncle Cassian’s good barbeque.”

Said uncle was out in the backyard tending to the grill with her husband, Rhys, and the Moonbeam brothers because, apparently, that’s where men gathered. Aelin and Rowan had joined them, the former getting an eyebrow raise from Azriel at her company’s appearance.

She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to perhaps score one of those cake pops herself—she was the guest of honor, surely she could snag one too. Feyre, Nuala, and Cerridwen had been busy putting together the final touches for lunch and were just waiting for Cassian’s proteins to serve food.

But just as she reached the breakfast bar, a wave of excruciating pain washed over her. Catching herself on the counter, Elain gripped the side of her stomach, groaning loud enough that the other room went silent. And then she felt it. Liquid surged between her legs, puddling the floor beneath her.

No. No, it was too soon. They couldn’t be coming already.

Viviane rounded the corner from the living room as Feyre and the twins approached her.

Somebody breathed her name, but she couldn’t decipher who it was over the blood rushing in her ears.

More footsteps sounded as her friends and family came from the living room to see what was going on.

“Elain.” It was Feyre’s voice that broke through the fog of fear that had clouded her, but she was too numb to respond. Too nervous. “Somebody get Azriel!”

Her panic grew and her breathing turned shallow. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared enough. The anxiety of giving birth hit her like a freight train.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t.

~~~~~

Azriel took a swig of his beer, rolling his eyes at the cad comment Rhys made. His tanned skin warmed in the sunlight even with the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. With a glance at the large window, he caught Elain rising from her spot on the couch, Kaden gripping her dress to speak with her.

Gods, that fucking dress. Elain looked like a maternal goddess in it, emphasizing her swollen belly, brimming with the life of his children. Az never realized he had a breeding kink until he and Elain got back together. His desire to fill her with his seed, to watch her grow with life had him hardening in his pants.

Now at eight months, she had reached the stage where little things irked the hell out of her. Honestly, her temper was cute as hell, but he tried to be considerate of her exhaustion and short-fuse, offering himself up to take the heat of her ire. It was only fair—he’s the one that got her pregnant.

It may have made him a primitive, alpha-douchebag, but fuck did he love to see her waddling around, pregnant and barefoot in their home. She was already such a wonderful mother to their boy, Kaden. Cassian had been right. He was so incredibly grateful for Elain’s maternal instinct.

“Something caught your eye, brother?” Cassian taunted, grinning. His brother knew exactly what he was looking at. Or whom.

He shot him a dry look that had Cash chuckling.

“If she wasn’t already pregnant, I’d say that look alone could’ve knocked her up,” he teased. “Who knew you had such a kink, Az.”

Azriel opened his mouth to retort, but the sliding glass door opening caught his attention.

Nuala peeked her head out, a worried look on her face that had his stomach tightening in knots. “Azriel! Get in here now!”

But he was already moving, dropping his drink on the table and running after her into the house, his brothers and friends hot on his heels. He froze in the entryway of the kitchen, taking in the scene for a split second before his eyes settled on Elain bent over the counter, a puddle of clear liquid beneath her.

His feet ate up the space between them in three long strides, her name falling from his lips as he cupped her face and forced her gaze on his. Azriel prided himself in knowing exactly what Elain was feeling, what she was thinking by just the look on her face. He read her better than he did himself. So, seeing the blatant apprehension and worry written as clearly as a tattoo on her forehead had his heart racing in his chest.

Her eyes were wet with the tears he could tell she was trying to hold back.

“Love,” he said quietly, unsure how to proceed at the moment.

She blinked like hearing him cleared a bit of the fog that had washed over her. “Azriel.” Her voice cracked.

He folded her into his arms, trying to soothe whatever worries were troubling her. “You’re okay, my love.”

Elain seemed to melt in his embrace, her tension slowly ebbing away the longer he held her. He gave her whatever time she needed, ignoring the audience they had around them, but it was long enough for another contraction to hit. She cried out, gripping his hand in hers and squeezing tight.

Viviane snapped into action at that. “Azriel, her contractions are about nine minutes apart now. She’s going to have at least two more by the time you reach the hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Elain growled.

That had him pulling back to look down at her. “El, the babies are coming—”

“No. Hospitals.” He could see the wavering in her face. “I—,” she paused, hesitating. “They’re not ready. It’s too early. Too soon. They can’t come out yet…” Her head fell until she was looking at the wetness still sitting on the floor. “I’m not ready,” Elain whispered so quietly, that he almost missed it.

Azriel knew that was nerves speaking. While Kaden made them parents, the idea of giving birth to the twins was the primary source of her fear. The books he read said that many expectant mothers experienced this type of anxiety right around the time they went into labor. If they were going to have any success in her having a smooth birth, Azriel needed to get her to calm down. He glanced at Cassian. “Can you get her a chair?”

His brother grabbed one from the dining room, setting it out for Az to carefully guide Elain into. He knelt in front of her, keeping her hands clasped firmly in his. “Elain, sweetheart,” her dark eyes latched onto his, needing to hear his reassurance. He kept his voice low, wishing they didn’t have to have this conversation in front of their friends and family.

Rhys seemed to sense that and began ushering people out of the room. “Let’s give the couple a few minutes.”

He shot his brother a grateful look before returning his attention to Elain. “Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. I know it’s earlier than we were expecting. But if there is one thing that I am certain of is that you can do this.” He squeezed her hands in comfort. “You are the strongest person I know. You’ve been through so much that once all is said and done, you’re going to look at me and tell me that this was the easy part. I promise you that if anyone can do this, it’s you. And I will be right by your side for every step, holding your hand, giving you ice chips, and bearing whatever you need me to bear to bring our children into the world.”

She sniffed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re sure?”

“Without a doubt, Elain. You can do this.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth, kissing her fingers and letting her absorb whatever confidence she needed. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to have our babies, love?”

Elain huffed a laugh, his words settling the nerves she had. “Yes, let’s go have our babies,” she breathed, her grin taking over her entire face, lasting all of thirty seconds before a look of panic took root once more. “Az, the birthing bag is still at the house.”

He let out an undignified snort. “Do you think after having that contraction in front of me this morning, I’d leave the house without having absolutely everything packed and ready to go? Come on, baby, you know me better than that. It’s all in the back of the car.”

She blinked in surprise. “The birthing bag and my pillow?”

“In the car,” he confirmed.

“Kaden’s overnight bag?”

“In the car.”

“The car seats for the twins?”

He scoffed. “You know I installed those weeks ago, try again.”

Her lips quired up at the corner. “What about the slippers I was wearing this morning?” she asked, thinking she had him.

Az rolled his eyes in playful exasperation. “I grabbed them when I snagged the birthing bag.” He kissed her hands again. “I’ve got you, love.”

And then she was leaning forward, kissing him with so much love and devotion, he felt it down to the soul she brought back to life. The sound of their family’s cheers forced them apart, a pretty blush dusting the tops of Elain’s cheeks, but she didn’t dare look away from him.

Without looking away from her, Azriel reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and tossed them to Rhys. “Can you grab Kaden’s bag from the trunk? The one with dinosaurs. And then Elain’s purple one as well.”

Elain’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why is he grabbing mine?”

His lips pulled up into a knowing grin, brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned forward to whisper, “I thought you might like to change your underwear and put on a maternity pad for the ride to the hospital.”

Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, but she nodded in agreement.  

A little body shuffled closer. “Momma?” Kaden murmured, looking so very worried over the state of his mother.

She held her arms out, motioning him forward. “C’mere sweetheart.” Elain tucked him into her chest, kissing the top of his head. “You’re going to stay here with Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys while Daddy and I go to the hospital to have your brother and sister.”

He looked up at her with those puppy-dog eyes and damn, the kid knew how to work them. “But I want to go with you!” His lower lip quivered and Azriel could tell he was on the verge of tears.

But his wife took it in stride, cupping his little face in her palms and swiping her thumbs across his cheeks. “I know, sweetheart. I know you do. But you’ll have a much better time here with your aunt and uncle. Momma’s not going to be fun to be around until your siblings are here.” She kissed his plump cheek. “But I promise that you will be the first to see us once they arrive. Okay?”

Feyre stepped forward, reaching out a hand for their son. “Come on, Kaden. We’ll have lots of fun eating all the desserts left over.” She shot them a wink when he finally relented, taking her fingers.

After cleaning her up as best as he could and getting her a maternity pad from her bag, he and Elain were in the car on the way to the hospital. As Viviane predicted, she had two more contractions on the way, grabbing his offered hand and the “oh shit” bar as she groaned her way through it. And then promptly went into a third one right as they arrived.

Az timed them out, still sitting about nine minutes apart. “Breathe, baby. Good, love. Just like that.” His thumb grazed the back of her hand. Her grip was tight, on the verge of painful, but he didn’t dare let his face flinch or show an ounce of discomfort. She needed his strength and that’s exactly what he was going to give her.

They were immediately escorted to their private room and Elain’s vitals were checked over. She was sitting at only two centimeters dilated, which meant they were looking at being there for a bit.

Between her contractions, he swapped out his clothes for a fitted black t-shirt and grey sweatpants to get more comfortable and then sent a text to their siblings to notify them that they were in and settled, but it would be a while before they would have any progress.

“Can you check in with Kaden?” Elain asked, taking a scoop of ice chips from her cup.

The corner of his lips curled up at the question. “I already did. Feyre said he wouldn’t leave the front window for a while and had to persuade him with his baby cousin and a lot of sweet treats.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “He’s going to have a mouth full of cavities before we get home.” Elain twisted to look at him. “Do you think we made the right decision by not letting him come with us? It sounds like he’s waiting for us to return. I know that some families let their little ones be present for the birth of their siblings and we discussed it—”

He interrupted her train of thought. “I think we made the right call, love. We’re going to be here for a while and we both know that things can upset him. I don’t know how well he’d handle watching you go through that.”

She nodded but didn’t look very convinced.

Azriel reached for her hand, covering it with his own and squeezing her fingers. “He’s safe and well-cared for. Remember that while we focus on bringing his little brother and sister into the world.” He brushed his lips over her knuckles in a sweet kiss.

Elain smiled softly at him. “Okay.”

And so, they waited.

Per his wife’s birthing plan, she wanted to attempt to go natural. Azriel admired her strength and resilience in doing so. But after over sixteen hours of hard labor, he could see her resolve fading.

He stroked her cheek, fingers brushing hair behind her ear. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Dark circles already lined the underneath part of her eyes. She looked so weary. “I’m so tired, Az.” Her voice came out nearly broken and fuck if that didn’t just rip his beating heart from his chest.

Kissing her forehead, he murmured, “Do you want to get the epidural? It’ll help you get some much-needed rest before the delivery.” As of now, she was only at seven centimeters and the doctor had said it could still be a while longer until she reached a full ten.

Her chin dipped in confirmation. “Please.”

Azriel didn’t waste time calling for the nurse. Within ten minutes, he watched as a grossly large needle was inserted into her back, sending that relief washing over her. He peppered her face with kisses during the procedure, murmuring words of praise and comfort in her ear as she gritted her teeth through it.

Elain spent the next eight hours in a fitful sleep, dosing off and waking up not long after each time. Azriel didn’t bother to try and sleep, not when she wasn’t really getting much at all.

But finally, after just past nine, she was fully dilated and ready to push.

His wife pushed and pushed and pushed for a half hour with nothing to show for it. She was in tears, frustrated, and so exhausted he was practically supporting all her weight having slid an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

“I can’t, I can’t,” she sobbed, half burying her face into his chest.

“You can, love. You’re so strong. Just a little bit more,” he tried to reassure her. It fucking killed him to see her like this.

“Can’t you do it for me?” she pleaded, looking up at him with wild, desperate eyes.

He gripped her cheek in his palm, kissing her temple. “You know I would, El. I would give anything to switch places with you right now. But I know you can do this. Just a few more pushes and then they’ll be here.”

Whatever she read within his words seemed to do the trick, her brows furrowing with a determination he hadn’t seen since they left the house. Elain pushed herself up, trying to get into a kneeling position, and he was right there, sliding behind her and supporting her weight.

The nurses squawked, muttering something about hospital policy, but frankly, he did not give a fuck, snarling, “Her body is telling her to push like this. Listen to your fucking patient.”

Changing the position was exactly what she needed because their son was born within the next two contractions, entering the world with a healthy set of lungs.

They sagged back against the pillows, his face wet with tears as they placed their new baby directly on Elain’s bared chest. He couldn’t stop himself from tipping her head back to kiss her softly on the lips, pausing the savor the moment.

Az traced the pads of his fingers over the curve of their boy’s cheek, just needing to touch him to prove he was here with them. Even covered in fluids, he was so beautiful. The perfect blend of the two of them.

The nurses gave them just a few minutes with the first baby before Doctor Chen said that she needed to start pushing again. She took their boy from Elain’s arms, promising to bring him back for Azriel after he was cleaned up and their daughter was born.

Delivery of their little girl went easier than with their son. But whereas their boy came out crying, their daughter came out silent.

Azriel knew something was wrong just by the silence, but it only grew the anxiety in his stomach when the doctor turned her back on them, taking their little one with her to work on.

“She’s not crying,” Elain breathed, worry clouding her voice.

He could only squeeze her shoulders in comfort, watching as they shoved things into her nose and mouth.

“Suction,” Chen ordered.

“Azriel, why isn’t she crying?”

“She’s going to be okay, love. They’re helping her. She’s okay.” The words passed his lips even as his heart dropped into his stomach when they started doing compressions on her tiny body.

No.

This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t lose her. It would kill him to lose his little girl, but Elain, fuck, he couldn’t even begin to fathom the devastation she would face at this loss. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t pay to fix this or threaten someone to save their baby girl.

So, he did what any father would do.

He prayed.

He prayed to every god, every deity, everything, and anything he could think of to keep his little girl safe and bring her back to them. To take her place if they demanded it. A life for a life. He’d pay it for his child, his family. “Come on,” he murmured. “Come on, baby. Come on.”

Elain curved her face into the side of his chest, howling in a way he’d never heard from her before.

His arms went around her, that dreaded feeling turning his blood cold. The terror he felt of their little one dead before she lived was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But still, he did not stop praying, clutching Elain’s shaking body to his. “Come on, little one. Come on!” he chanted. “Please.”

And then, a rattled cough tore from her tiny body, followed by the sweet, beautiful sound of her cry.

Elain’s wail turned into relieved sobs, as the doctor walked over their bundled little girl and placed her into his wife’s awaiting arms.

“Somebody was just so excited to meet you, she took a breath a little too early, but we cleared out her passages and lungs and she looks good now.”

His wife tucked their daughter into her chest, kissing the top of her head. “Hi sweet girl, Momma’s here,” she whispered, tears still falling down her cheeks. Tears that matched the ones running down his face.

She was here. His baby girl. Fuck, she looked just like him, with dark hair and tanned skin. He hadn’t gotten a look at her eyes yet, but already she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here you go, Mr. Archeron-Knight,” one of the other nurses said, pulling his attention from his wife and daughter as she handed him his son, cleaned up and wrapped in a soft blanket.

The small bundle was gently laid in the crook of his elbow. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever feel the amount of love he did on Kaden’s adoption day, but sitting here with his gorgeous wife, holding their newborn twins, he felt his heart soar in his chest.

Sweaty and fatigued, Elain glanced up at his face, the sweetest, exhausted smile pulling on her lips. “I love you,” she murmured.

He let out a sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a sob. “I love you more.” And then he kissed her, sealing that moment in time with his undying love for her.

~~~~~

Elain woke to the sound of a whimpering cry, swiftly followed by Azriel’s low voice.

“Hey, sweet girl. What’s wrong, huh?” She heard some shuffling as her husband lifted their daughter from the nursery bed. “Momma needs her sleep so we need to be quiet.” He kept his voice low enough to not disturb her—fuck she loved him so much—but she was already awake, rolling over in the hospital bed to face him.

Azriel holding his children was, hands down, the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. How she could even feel the need for him after pushing two babies out of her currently aching and severely injured body was beyond her, but just watching him bounce their fussing daughter made all those desires come roaring to the surface.

Almost as if he could sense her presence, hazel eyes slid to hers. “I’ve got her, love. Go back to sleep.” His voice remained soft as night as if anything louder would disturb her.

She curled up on her side, watching him. “I think we should get used to no sleep now.”

He huffed a laugh, patting Rosalie on her back as she further settled into the crook of his elbow.

Their daughter was almost two pounds smaller than her brother, coming in right at five whereas Ryder was a healthy six pounds, fourteen ounces. The doctor was a little concerned over Rosalie’s lower birth weight, but Elain had managed to get both babies to latch and feed earlier and she ate well, so they were mainly playing it by ear.

Because of her smaller size, Azriel already placed an order for some preemie clothes and sent a photo of her with the twins to their siblings. They asked to give them a day to recuperate before coming to the hospital in the morning. After the scare with Rosalie, both she and Azriel wanted to take some time to spend with the babies. Plus, the medical team was in and out of their room, taking Rosalie for some additional tests just to be sure everything looked good.

It was just after seven that night, and they were settling in for the evening. Tired of hospital food, Azriel ordered hamburgers from DoorDash for them to eat. Elain was starving and it sounded so good that she drooled when she suggested it to him. Both babies had been fed only an hour earlier and she anticipated not having another feeding till late evening or early morning.

Elain grabbed whatever sleep she could, knowing she’d need it when they were released in a couple of days, but she was sure Azriel hadn’t slept a wink since she’d gone into labor.

She pushed herself up, reclining on her pillows. The nurses cleaned her after the delivery and stitched her up from tearing, but Elain couldn’t wait to get home and take a proper shower. “Does she need to be changed?” she asked, nodding to the now-sleeping baby in her husband’s arms.

Azriel shook his head. “No, I think she was just fussing.” His dark hair was still mussed up from when he stripped out of his shirt earlier, taking time for skin-to-skin contact with each of the twins.

Elain had to rein in her laugh at how the nurse blushed as he revealed miles of gloriously tanned, tattooed skin and corded muscle. Her husband was a fine specimen, but he never flaunted it, so seeing another woman react to it was humorous especially since he didn’t even seem to notice her blushing, stammering state.

“You should sleep too, Az,” she said instead.

He looked at her, his lips curving up. It had been doing that a lot since the birth of the twins. The sweetest, smallest smile that crept up the corners of his mouth. Almost as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was utterly adorable and made him look younger. “I’ll rest later. You need it more than me.”

Her shoulders shook in amusement. “You know, we can sleep when they do.”

“I just don’t want to miss a second of them.” His attention returned to his little girl who already had him wrapped around her finger. To be fair, all of their children did. “Fuck, I can’t believe they’re here already. It seems like it was only a month ago you found out you were pregnant.”

“I can’t believe our first anniversary is coming up in just a handful of weeks.”

At that, he laughed. “I guess a trip for our anniversary is out of the question?”

She grinned. “Not unless all our little ones are coming with us.” Because like hell was she going to be able to leave them so soon. Plus with her nursing, it just wouldn’t be ideal.

He seemed to consider her. “We could take the jet to the Summer District. Kaden will be out of school then and we’ll both still be out on leave. Just a thought.”

Gods, he was fucking perfect. “That might be nice.”

A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was going to say. He frowned in confusion, looking at her.

Elain shrugged, sitting up further on her bed. “Come in,” she called out.

She thought it might be a nurse or a doctor, coming to check on her or the twins. What she didn’t expect was for Rhys to peek his head into the room. Surprise lit her features and she glanced at Azriel, who looked equally as bewildered at the sudden visit from their brother.

“Hey,” Rhys said. “I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but somebody really couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see you.” He opened the door slightly, revealing Kaden clutching a teddy bear, eyes puffy and red from crying.

Her heart ached at the distress their son must’ve been in for Rhys to come all the way here. “Hello sweetheart,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Come here, my love.”

He took a small step further into the room, Rhys’s hand guiding him at the backside of his head. Kaden took slow steps as he approached the side of her bed. “Momma, are you sick?”

She reached out to cup his cheek in her palm. “No, baby. I’m not sick. Your brother and sister decided it was time to come out of my tummy.” Her eyes found Azriel’s as he rose from his seat on the couch, moving toward them. “Would you like to meet them?” she asked, returning her gaze to Kaden’s.

His head dipped in confirmation.

Elain pushed herself back even more. “Rhys, can you help him up and then grab me that flat pillow over there.”

He set the boy on the bed between her spread legs, Kaden shuffling backward and bumping into her sensitive lower area.

She hissed out in pain before she could stop herself. A wave of agony washed over her with enough intensity that her stomach curdled with nausea.

Azriel reacted immediately. “Easy, buddy. Momma’s going to be sore for a while and we need to be extra careful with her.”

“I’m okay,” she spoke quickly, not wanting to upset Kaden any more than he already was, and kissed his plump cheek as she breathed through the pain. “Okay, Rhys. Place the pillow over our laps.”

Adjusting his arms in preparation, Azriel gently lowered their daughter until she comfortably rested on the nursing pillow.

“Kaden, this is your sister, Rosalie,” he announced, letting his finger stroke her rounded cheek.

Elain couldn’t see his face directly, but she did catch his eyes widening as he stared down at her, his fingers carefully tracing over her delicate features just as his father did.

“Rosawee,” he said, not quite catching the ending syllable. It would be something they would have to work on. When she kicked a leg within her swaddle, he pulled his hand back, startled.

She laughed, feeling the bed dip as Azriel sat down next to them, bringing over their son. “And this is your brother, Ryder.”

He reached out to trace the outline of his brows, the touch gentle and exploratory. “I’m a brother?” he asked, turning his head to look up at her.

“That’s right sweetheart. You’re their big brother, and they’re going to love you so much,” she told him, kissing the top of his head.

Elain took in her family, her incredible husband, and three beautiful children. It sounded so wild to even think about. She was a wife and a mother. Thinking back, she remembered the day that had changed the trajectory of her life forever. The bank robbery a few years back. It was crazy to think how such a terrifying moment altered her life in the best of ways. It brought her back to the love of her life.

It put her on this very path.

She’d face every one of the moments since then tenfold as long as it brought her to this point in time, sitting here with her gorgeous little family.

“Perfect.”

She looked up at Rhys, catching him with his phone out.

“Your first family photo.”

Her lips turned up and silver lined her eyes. “Thank you, Rhys.”

He waved her off. “Do you want me to take Kaden back with me?”

“No,” Azriel said, ruffling his eldest son’s hair. “He can stay here with us tonight. Can you put his booster seat in our car? The keys are in my bag.”

“You got it.” He grabbed the keys but paused on the threshold. “And congratulations you guys. Rosalie and Ryder are beautiful.”

Azriel leaned further into her side, kissing her temple. “Thank you, brother.” Once alone, he turned her head toward his, bringing her mouth to his for a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you so damn much, Elain.”

His smile was infectious, making her lips turn up at the corners. “Thank you, Azriel, for giving me this life—these babies. You have made me the happiest I could ever imagine. I love you.”

“Momma! She’s got my finger,” Kaden’s giggle interrupted their moment.

They laughed, looking at their three beautiful children.

Elain knew that this perfect moment was just the very beginning of the rest of their lives.

~~~~~

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[twogyuu]

Head in the Clouds (Landing Among Stars)

Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're busy. He's busy. Doctors are busy. Pilots are busy. But somehow, he always found time for you - including pretending to be your boyfriend for your cousin's wedding.

Genre: Fluff, crack, minor angst(?), pilot!Wonwoo 😭💔, resident doctor!reader, mentions of an unspecifed ex, implications of dj!Johnny Suh, fake dating, friends-to-???

Warnings: Profanity, alcohol use, food, photo is not my own (screenshotted it from the RWY Special Behind SVT YT video. LMAO THANK YOU FOR ALL THE BEHINDS PLEDIS🙏🏻)

WC: ~4.5K

Permanent taglist: @sleeplessdawn @sadkidwarexpert @rockwidthyou @woozarts @wonuziex @bibinnieposts @nanamioo @joonsytip

A/N: Remember when I said it's not my fault if you see this in the next 24h? This is 50% the fault of @wisteria-woo 😭💔 and 50% Wonwoo's fault. It's Friday past midnight - I should be out with friends, maybe studying more, maybe working on fixing Reel Love, finishing that Seungkwan drabble, maybe starting the first few paragraphs of that Hao crazy rich asians!au fic, or maybe writing about Jeonghan and Wonwoo fighting over cereal - but NO - I'm sitting here with Wonwoo fever 🥲

Anyways- IT'S WONWOO'S ANATOMICAL LEFT eyebrow, not his right 😭 Though I re-watched the video and he depresses his anatomical right eyebrow so it just looks like he lifted his left one whyamievenlookingthathard

This is purely self-indulgent and unedited (per usual). I am so ill rn and in DISTRESS - tumblr made this so much harder to post than it needed to be 😭. I am sorry for blowing up your notifications . . . I also sincerely apologize if none of this makes sense.

GOOD NIGHT 😭

Feel free to make fun of me swinging in a direction that isn't even one of my usual biases @aceofvernons.

“Maybe he’s right, Wonwoo.”

Your voice grew small until it fell silent, finally pausing in your rambling. He gave you a minute to collect your thoughts, busying himself with adjusting his navy blue double breasted suit jacket on the white plastic hanger. His fingers grazed against the uneven surface of the gold metallic buttons with delicate engravings as he slipped them through the slits. Though seemingly engrossed in straightening his jacket, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you sulking on the edge of his full-sized bed in the other room. Your camel-colored peacoat would still be shrouding your shoulders that were rounded in a slump, your purse still slung across your body. Your index finger was probably hooked loosely around the silver keychain he bought you for your birthday last year. Maybe your eyes were bleary, gaze falling on his cream colored carpet. A sharp inhale, followed by a heavy exhale.

Stepping back, eyes scanning his jacket for a speck of dust, he called to you, “He really said that?” Wonwoo reached to adjust the shoulder pads, “That you never have time for him? You spent all your days off with him the last time I checked – this is the first time I’ve seen you in-person . . . three months?”

“I know,” you mumbled, your voice muffled. Your hands must be covering your face.

“You’d think he’d know what he’d be getting into, dating a resident doctor, huh?” Wonwoo asked rhetorically.

The only response he got was a small ‘puff’ that echoed into his walk-in closet – the sound of your back meeting his comforter. Wonwoo chortled softly to himself. Satisfied by the look of his suit jacket, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks and made his way out. The right corner of his lips curled into a small smile as you came into view just as he expected: Flopped onto his bed with your legs dangling over the edge, still dressed in your outerwear, hands covering your face.

“I’m gonna end up lonely as fuck because of my job, god,” you groaned, “Why did I think it’d be a good idea to be a doctor all things considered? I’ve been fucking up my left and rights since second year of medical school, I work six out of seven days of the week, I’m probably vitamin D deficient with how little I see the sun – there are no windows in that closet of an office they give residents in the hospital, it’s dark when I arrive, the sun is already setting when I leave. The only good thing out of this is that I don’t have to dress up for work and can live in scrubs – for now.”

“Aaaww,” he cooed teasingly, “You won’t be lonely.” Leaning against the white painted door frame, Wonwoo unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling them up his arms. “You got me.”

“That’s different,” you deadpanned. “You’re missing the point, Wonwoo.”

“And you’re being dramatic,” he berated, running his hand through his jet black locks to loosen the tight and groomed style he was sporting earlier. “Who needs a man when you’re going to be a six-figure-making physician in a year or two? You can take care of yourself.”

“I’ll be fine in two years maybe, but not in two months,” you sighed, pushing yourself up from his bed.

“You’re gonna let a mere man ruin your next two months?”

“No – I mean, yes, I’m gonna mope because I’m a little heartbroken and I really thought he was . . . it.”

“Oh god,” Wonwoo scoffed. You weren’t looking, but he pointed at you anyway. “For the record, I told you from the beginning I never liked him.”

“I told my mom about him,” you blurted.

Wonwoo fell silent, his lips pursing into a small o-shape. This was no laughing matter now. You lived several miles away from home and have been doing so since starting medical school when he met you through a mutual friend. It wasn’t that you weren’t close to your family, but because of your busy schedule, there were only select parts of your life you ever told your mom. You were a listener more than you were a talker – opting to listen to your mom’s anecdotes of what’s been going on at home rather than sharing your day-to-day at the hospital over your weekly phone calls. Not to mention, Wonwoo recalled you told him that your parents were rather invested in your love life, stuck in a traditional mindset, terrified that you’d become a spinster unless you brought home a promising candidate before you hit your early thirties. Though Wonwoo could respect it, he wasn’t sure he could ever quite understand your parents’ urge to get you married so quickly, let alone if it was with the wrong person.

“My cousin’s getting married in two months and I’m flying back home for the wedding,” you explained, “He . . . was supposed to be my plus one . . . meet my cousin, my brothers . . . meet my parents.”

Wonwoo nodded slowly, eyes falling to the side and gazing out his bedroom window. The two of you were getting that serious. He was surprised you hadn’t burst into tears already – perhaps you already did or you were just a tougher cookie than he thought.

“Have you told your parents about your break up?” Wonwoo inquired.

You shook your head slowly. “I . . . I-I’m scared,” you sucked in a sharp breath, “They seemed so . . . ecstatic to meet him? And they told all my aunts and uncles I’m dating some hot shot . . . I’d hate to take that away from them – or worse,” your eyes widened at your sudden epiphany, “I get scolded for being dumb and letting a boy play me.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brows together, the last comment catching him off-guard. “He didn’t and it wasn’t your fault though?”

“It takes two tango, so maybe it was,” you noted, “And my parents don’t see it that way.”

“It wasn’t and they won't.”

“Maybe.”

Wonwoo sighed seemingly hopelessly, pushing himself off the doorframe. His footsteps shifted side to side as if he was contemplating something – uncomfortable even. The space between your brows dipped slightly as you narrowed your eyes, continuing to observe him. As if the room was suddenly feeling stuffy, he let out a long and heavy breath – not out of fatigue or relief, but rather . . . nerves? His hand came up to tug at the black knot at his throat. It must've been tight because his (anatomical) right eyebrow quirked in distress, his fingers flexed harshly as he pulled it loose – you were able to make out almost each tendon running along his metacarpals.

“Date me instead,” Wonwoo stated firmly.

You blinked at him owlishly. “W-what?”

Pulling the shorter end out from behind the black piece of silk came undone, falling limp in his hand. His thumb and index finger came up to unclasp the opaque plastic button below his Adam’s Apple that bobbed up and down as he gulped down the invisible lump forming in his throat.

“I’ll go with you to the wedding,” Wonwoo continued, his eyes flickering from the tie in his hand and back to you. “As your plus one.”

“D-don’t you have work?” you stammered, still processing his offer, “Planes to fly? Places to go?”

He tilted his head to the side nonchalantly, turning back around to re-enter his closet. “I’ll rearrange my schedule to ask for vacation time off – fly as a passenger for once.”

“But –”

“When’s the date?”

. . . .

And so that was how you found yourself here, dressed to the nines in a flowy lavender silk evening gown with Wonwoo’s warm (and surprisingly smooth) hand wrapped around your own sweaty fingers. His grip wasn’t too tight, but not too loose – comfortable, if you will. Visible and connected enough to show that you weren’t single, but also not squeezing the life out of you to make it obvious that the two of you were trying to hide a bigger secret. Your cheeks ached from grinning so widely in front of your parents, hoping they’d buy your fake love story with your handsome friend.

On the contrary, Wonwoo was seemingly a natural at this. He looked almost no different from his daily uniform: Sans the heavy navy blue jacket, he wore a crisp white collared shirt with black detailing on his (anatomical) right shoulder paired with a pair of black slacks. The shirt fit him nicely, slightly loose around the shoulders and tucked in tightly at his waist, highlighting his broad shape. Shoulders rounded back, his usually messy bangs slicked back neatly to the side exposing his forehead and better highlighting his sharp alluring eyes, he stood tall and confident. Despite how simply he dressed relative to other guests and against the extravagant gold and blue decorations, he stood out. A genuine and warm smile played on his lips as he greeted your parents.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” he bellowed, pulling away his hand from your father and bowing his head slightly at them both.

You could tell from the way your mother’s mouth was held agape and her eyes were lit up like fairy lights lining the walls, she was an absolute goner for him Wonwoo.

“So, uh,” your father grunted, eyes zeroing in on your intertwined hands. He waved a finger between the two of you, “How long have the two of you been together?”

Wonwoo turned to look at you and because you felt obligated to in order to simulate chemistry between the two of you, you did too. He took you by surprise though – his gaze a little too loving, the small curve of his lips into a shy smile a little too affectionate.

Your breath hitched; the story the two of you rehearsed on the airplane ride here got trapped in the back of your throat. His stare was hypnotizing as if he turned your brain into mush.

“Gonna tell them or should I?” Wonwoo whispered.

The saccharine in his voice was heart fluttering – you weren’t sure if you wanted to vomit or laugh right there. Frankly, you were growing concerned if you were going to be able to pull this off. You still had half of the cocktail hour and the rest of the reception to go.

“I-I, um, w-we,” you fumbled, tearing your gaze from him. You let out a breathless chuckle, racking your brain for the timeline of your fake relationship.

Tugging you close to his side, Wonwoo turned back to your parents, grinning. “We’ve been friends for almost four years now – met through a mutual friend, but have been seeing each other for the last year and a half.”

“Oh,” your mother hummed softly. “Why didn’t you tell me he was one of your friends? If I had known you had someone so handsome in your life–”

“Mom!” you protested.

“What? I’m just stating facts,” she replied.

Wonwoo gave your hand a tight squeeze, a deep, breathy chuckle bellowing from his chest. “Y/N’s . . . a little shy when it comes to how we got together. No one really expected it – not even us.”

“And what is it that you do for a living then, son?” your father jumped to the next question.

“Dad,” you deadpanned. Of course, he’d ask about Wonwoo’s occupation.

“A pilot, sir,” Wonwoo replied without hesitation.

Your dad raised his eyebrows, nodding fervently with an impressed look crossing his face. “You must have great eyesight.”

“I can see a thing or two,” Wonwoo joked in return.

“Well,” your mother finally intervened. You saw her waving at one of your aunts from afar. She wrapped a hand around your father’s arm, gently ushering him to move. “It was lovely meeting you finally Wonwoo – can’t believe she kept you hidden from us for so long, but Y/N’s father and I have a few more guests to greet. We’ll see you both around, and please, do enjoy yourself!”

Wonwoo and you bid your parents goodbye, waving at them mostly to watch until they were out of earshot and you could finally stop fake smiling.

As your lips flattened, Wonwoo took you by surprise. As if it was second nature, his hand slipped from your own, snaking past the small of your back and settling on your hip. Heat crept onto your cheeks as he pulled you close into his side. His lips grazed against the shell of your ear – you could feel him smiling, his warm breath raising the hairs on the back of your neck. From afar, anyone would think of it as two lovers whispering sweet nothings to one another. However, a stern warning came instead.

“If you keep grinning like you shit your pants, someone’s gonna catch onto us tonight,” Wonwoo whispered. He pulled away and glanced back at you. It terrified you how easily it was for him to smile so . . . warmly at you, like you were the apple of his eye – the love of his life. “Relax, hm?”

You swallowed harshly, your throat growing dry. You nodded – your face still straight nonetheless. He rested against the granite bar, spinning you to face him, his hand never leaving your waist once. Teasingly, he brushed the tip of your nose with his finger before letting both hands now rest on your hips.

“You’re freaking me out,” you muttered.

He tilted his head coyly at you. “Just doing my job as your,” he paused, his voice dropping an octave, leaning towards you, “fake,” he leaned back, his voice returning to its normal volume, “boyfriend.”

“This isn’t your first time being recruited as a fake date, is it?” you folded your arms across your chest. “Bet – Younghee invited you out when she needed a plus one back in January to her aunt’s renewal of vows.”

His nostrils flared ever so slightly, his nose ridge crinkling, eyes disappeared into crescents as his smile widened. Your heart pumped erratically, the memory of that one drunken night where you told him you liked this particular smile. He had claimed it manifested this way because his eye muscles were attached to his nose muscles.

“Seungkwan went with her if you don’t remember,” he explained. One of your relatives must’ve breezed by behind you, watching because Wonwoo’s eyes tracked after someone. He continued, indifference in his tone, “I just . . . really like you.”

With a heavy sigh, you patted his shoulder, slipping your hand back into his – ignoring the way your chest tightened at just how well your hands slotted into one another. “Uh-huh, yeah,” you did your best to hide the squeak in your voice, turning to face forward towards the tall linen-draped tables, “We have a long night ahead of us, so keep it up, buddy.”

. . . .

The evening flew by surprisingly fast without an issue – well pertaining to your fake relationship that is. Cocktail hour ended smoothly, Wonwoo meeting a few more of your cousins. No one batted an eye when you accidentally spilled some champagne down the skirt of your dress – their attention was locked on your handsome date as he indulged in their questions about his job as a pilot and where in the world he’s visited. You rejoined your parents and your younger brothers during dinner. Surprisingly, Wonwoo bonded really well with them, finding common interest in FPS video games and anime shows (you didn’t even know Wonwoo was into anime). A few of your aunts came by during cake cutting and desserts to meet him as well. You chuckled at the way he didn’t have to do much to charm them, merely nodding and smiling as they rattled off about how much they’ve already heard about him from their kids, themselves, and their own families, wishing their own kids brought back someone as dashing as him. There was a hint of jealousy and jab in their words, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

First dances were danced, bouquets and garters were tossed, and the lights of the reception hall were finally dimmed for a lively evening. Guests flooded the dance floor as the DJ, a lanky young man dressed in a snapback and a heavy black jacket with zipper detailing on the pockets, turned on a heavy dance beat and colorful flashing lights. A set of large headphones around his ears, the DJ (one of your other cousin’s boyfriend you’d later learn), bopped on his own as he twisted the various knobs on his beat board. Neither of you quite the dancer, Wonwoo and you stayed in your seat, watching your cousins, sober and drunk, shimmy on the floor.

“I’m gonna go get something to drink,” you announced after a little while. You peered at him through your lashes. “You want something?”

Wonwoo leaned forward by your ear. “Just water,” he shouted over the beat.

You nodded, gathering the skirt of your dress as you got out of your chair. On your way over, someone caught your elbow. You spun around, pleasantly surprised to see Rina, one of your childhood friends you grew up with, greeting you with a bright smile.

“Hey!” she squealed while linking your arms.

“Hi!” you replied. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all night.”

“I don’t blame you,” she chirped as the two of you reached the bar counter. She was quick to hail down the bartender, requesting a green tea shot. You asked for Wonwoo’s glass of water and your lemonade.

Rina’s eyes flickered behind you. “Been busy introducing everyone to tall and handsome,” she walked her index and middle finger up your forearm playfully, smirking when she noticed the sheepish smile gracing your face. “Heard he was a friend turned lover? A pilot too – caught yourself a good one finally.”

“He’s alright,” you muttered.

“Are you kidding?” Rina scoffed, “If a man that handsome looked at me like the way he looks at you, I’d melt right here and now – I wouldn’t give a damn it’s my cousin’s wedding they’re cleaning me up at.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, taken aback by her comment. Your mind was already flitting through the memories of the day with Wonwoo – how did he look at you exactly?

“What?” you shook your head, “You’re being dramatic.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she held her fist to her mouth to mimic an announcer with their mic – she used to do this all the time in high school to tease you. “This is why they say love is blind.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you’re supposed to use that phrase,” you chuckled.

The bartender made his way over with your drinks. You both offered him a small thank you and tip, before parting from the counter and continuing your conversation.

“It’s not,” Rina lifted the opaque mint green liquid to her lips, “But you must be really blind not to see how his eyes go all soft and heart-shaped whenever he looks at you.”

He’s just naturally a good actor.

She tilted her head back, downing the drink in one ago. With a satisfied sigh, she turned back to you, a silly grin on her face. “Seriously though, I’m really happy for you – he seems to really like you.”

But it’s fake.

“Thanks,” was all you could say. You gave her a tight smile – though, Rina could tell it didn’t quite reach your eyes. The two of you slowed to a stop a few tables away from your date.

She narrowed her eyes coyly at you. “Just . . .” she clamped down on your shoulder and gave you a firm squeeze, “Think twice before you let him go.” Rina turned, her body perpendicular to your own, her eyes set on Wonwoo who was peering over curiously. She waved at him, offering him a warm smile. He returned the gesture, eyes then flickering to you.

“That,” she formed a rectangle with her fingers, “is a man in love, sweetheart.” Rina turned to you, giving your arm one last firm squeeze. “It was good to see you,” she winked, “With him.”

Not a single drop of alcohol in you that night, your mind started to spin as you watched her frolic between the tables like a happy little girl in a field of daisies, joining her friends back to the dance floor. Your legs suddenly felt wobbly – you worried you wouldn’t be able to make it back to Wonwoo in time without spilling your drinks.

There was no way in hell Wonwoo could, let alone would, love you by choice. Yes, he loved you as a friend, but no more, no less. He’s been by your side since your second year of medical school. He’s wiped your tears (and your snot) when you feared you would fail your board exams. He’s seen you at your wildest, handing out your number to strangers like gum when you were tipsy at the bar. He’s picked you up from the hospital when you could hardly open your eyes, the stress of an overnight shift hanging heavy on your limp body. Not in a single one of those moments, did anything he did ever suggest he could possibly be in love with you.

Rina was just drunk.

She wasn’t thinking rationally – just seeing things because her vision was going blurry.

Even if Wonwoo liked you . . . what did that mean for you?

“Everything okay?” Wonwoo asked slowly as you settled into your seat. His hand settled into the small of your back and for once that evening, it wasn’t soothing – it was burning hot. You jumped at his touch. “Whoa.”

���I’m fine,” you quipped, swiping at the invisible hair in your face. You shoved his glass of water into his hand. However, rather than drinking it, he placed it to the side; that same hand coming to caress your own.

“Uh . . . did your friend say something?” he asked. “Something you didn’t like?”

Yes – but you might have liked it.

“No,” you lied.

“You’re lying,” he squinted at you.

Fuck – were you just that easy to read or did he just . . . know you that well?

“It’s . . . umm . . . getting hot in here,” you chuckled half-heartedly, “I’m gonna go get some fresh air, okay?” You moved out of your seat, breathless suddenly. “J-just stay here – please.”

Wonwoo frowned, watching you back up towards the grand doors. Normally, he’d respect your boundaries and let you be. You were the type to need space when you were distressed – you knew to come to him when you needed to. However, right now, that didn’t seem like the right thing to do as he watched you spin around, bundling up your dress in your fists so you wouldn’t trip as you dashed into the red carpeted halls. He stood up taking the widest strides he could to reach you without drawing attention.

Standing in the wide doorway, his head whipped left and right, frantically searching for you. He caught sight of your dress rounding a corner and took off jogging after you. It was fortunate you weren’t the best at walking in heels – in combination with his long legs, he caught up with you quickly, reaching for your elbow. Breathlessly, Wonwoo pulled his weight back to slow you down, causing you to stumble into his chest (rather un-elegantly might you add). He was quick to catch you, setting you against the wall. When you tried to duck and escape, Wonwoo was a beat faster, bringing his left arm up to cage you in.

“Can we not be cliche and do this here?” you complained.

Wonwoo tilted his head to the side, ducking his head to try and catch your downcasted eyes. “Mind telling me what’s going on then?”

Your breathing grew shallow and uneven. With how quiet the surroundings were, you wondered if he could hear the erratic beat of your heart like you could. It boomed in your ears, drowning out the bass of the party a couple doors down.

“Hey,” he tried again, his voice softer.

Wonwoo was good to you – too good now that you think about it.

Patient.

Caring – even if he teased you a lot.

He listened.

He laughed when your jokes weren’t that funny.

And the scariest part?

He made time for you – pilots were busy.

They flew everywhere: Hong Kong, Paris, LA, Osaka, Milan, Dodoma.

But when you needed him, he was there – hell, even changed his work schedule to accompany you to a wedding in a small city with no attractions (except for the fountain that mimicked the one in Rome) and voluntarily subject himself to the scrutiny of your family.

Even now when you were tearing down the hall, he was tender in drawing the answers out of you.

In the one in a thousand chances Rina was right, how could you confront him now? You weren’t even sure of your own feelings. Had enough time passed since your break up? Did you want him in that way? Or were you too just caught up in the moment?

Slowly, but fearfully, you willed yourself to look up at him. Eyes wide boring into his own, you noted the concern that was etched into the space between his brows, the slightest frown downturning the corner of his lips.

“Would it be insane to think,” you started softly, pressing your back flat against the wall. The plaster felt cool against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, curling your fingers into fists. “That you might . . . like me?” you gulped, “More than a friend?”

Wonwoo’s face was stoic at first, his eyes studying your face. They traced your features from your hairline to your black mascara coated lashes to the cute tip of your nose that he touched earlier that day, finally falling on your lips – the remnants of your lip gloss probably stained on the lip of the cup of lemonade you were sipping on earlier. He wondered if your lips tasted like the drink – sweet with a hint of bitterness from the lemons they were made of.

Gradually, his features softened. The dip between his brows rising again, a tender glint flashing in his brown irises. The corner of his lips finally curving up – his nose following suit. Like he’d always explain - the muscles of his face were all connected.

Technically, he wasn’t wrong.

Wonwoo leaned in close, his bangs that fell out of the slick tickling your lashes.

His voice low with a hint of rasp, he whispered, “Took you long enough.”

. . . .

Read the epilogue here :)

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #gonna go lay down #im so delusio-

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 43

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Andy arrives like a vision of Prince Charming. It’s like one of those romcoms you roll your eyes at. He’s not overdressed, just a tidy button up and slacks, his hair combed and beard trimmed. He is casually handsome, meanwhile you feel like a hog in a dress.

Dottie’s enthusiasm irks you as she answers the door. You sweep by her, no purse, no phone, only some money tucked into your dress. You’re not a charity case, this isn’t a prom date, this is pity for the depressed old woman you’ve become.

“Come on,” you pass Andy and his voice bobble uncertainly as he lets out several syllables without forming a full worm. He only manages a hurried farewell to your mother-in-law before shuffling after you.

“Um, here, let me,” he’s almost running to get past you. He opens the car door and you don’t spare him a look. 

You pause and stare at the interior, “we don’t have to go anywhere nice. You could just drive me out to the industrial park for some peace and quiet.”

He scoffs. Not a vicious sound, rather amused, “well, I’d hate to waste the reservation, so maybe we can sit outside the pillow factory after.”

You inhale and glance over at him. Just at the top button of his shirt. You nod and get in. You don’t have the energy for any of this, let alone an argument.

You sit stiffly in the seat as he closes the door with a soft click. You buckle in and lean your elbow on the groove of the door. You watch through the window as he gets in on the other side and fiddles around. Finally the engine hums, stoking the sparks in your mind. Wouldn’t it be nice if you never came back?

He pulls out through the gate and onto the street. The suburban streets have a sinister glint. You wonder if there are any others like you. Surely you’re not the only woman to discover the true imprisonment of motherhood. Money can’t buy happiness and all that, but you’re not sure there’s any such thing.

You’re quiet. You don’t have much to say. You spend your days with a little human that can’t speak or understand you, and a woman who talks too much and refuses to hear you.

“So, how’s the little one?” Andy asks.

You grumble and lean your chin in your hand, feeling the vibration of the engine in your ears. You shrug, “do we have to talk about her?”

“Sorry, I guess… I get it. You want to feel like an adult again. No one asks about you– hey, why don’t you sit back?” He suggests, “kinda awkward talking to the back of your head.”

You sigh and lean back slowly. You keep your arm bent into the door, your eyes set through the windshield. Andy’s grip tightens on the wheel as he swallows loudly, clearing his throat.

“Look, it’s been a while, but I remember what it was like. Your whole world revolves around this tiny little person and you forget who you are–”

“And what did you do, Andy?” You challenge, “were you breastfeeding? Were you sstuck in the house all day with a squirming infant attached to you? Were you bleeding and stretched out, deformed into nothing more than a used incubator–”

“No, I guess not,” he sniffs, “I was still working. Had to keep things running–”

“So valiant,” you grumble and he sucks in another sharp breath. You wince. You don’t want to be the bitch. You don’t want to think about the baby or her father or the nosy grandmother. You are out of that house, if only for a little, and you want to enjoy that. “Look, sorry, I… I’m a little rusty in the social department right now. It’s not you, and I appreciate you wasting your time trying to distract you. I’m sorry Dottie talked you into this.”

“Talked me into… no, I offered. Yeah, I know when, er, my wife was going through a rough patch, we talked, she started having days out, on her own, you know, with friends, so she could remember her old life. Maybe even keep some of it,” he explains as he steers, “and I’m not really doing you a favour, you’re doing me one.”

“Am I?” You snort, “how so?”

“Well, I don’t really have an excuse like you but I don’t go out. I don’t talk to people. I don’t do any of this, so you and me, we’re a lot more alike than you think.”

You chew on his words, on the underlying grimness in his voice. You feel a strike of guilt for your callowness. You’re wallowing in the anger of your plight, meanwhile he’s grieving memories of the same. He had a child he loved and lost them. He doesn’t deserve that pain. He isn’t wrong, you are different sides of the same coin.

“Yeah, we are,” you admit, “so you won’t mind if I forget my manners?”

“Not at all,” he chuckles, the tension rattling in his throat, “I didn’t book us a five-star table or anything, I hope that’s okay.”

“Please, I never fit in at those ridiculous places,” you pull your arm away from the door and ease back, just a little, “I had a pump before I left so as long as there’s drinks, I’m game.”

🍑

Your appetite remains finicky, you only eat half your meal and take the rest to go. However, your thirst sees you ordering three mimosas with your lunch. At the end, Andy pays, after a rather heated argument over the check. His insistence wins over as your indifference lands the final hit.

You wonder, as you come out of the restaurant, how someone like Andy, someone nice and thoughtful, could have been dealt such a shitty hand. The cruel twist of his life reminds you of Lloyd and how he was never met with the karma of his callous behaviour. The contrast assures you that the world is not a fair place, and makes you feel worse that you brought another life into it.

You’re tipsy as you get into the car. You try to shake away the ripples, suppressing a belch that threatens to break free. Andy settles into the driver’s side and glances over at you as he idles in the spot.

“You good?” He asks as you buckle in, balancing your takeaway in one hand.

“I’m great,” you say, “I… I maybe had one mimosa too many.”

“We can find somewhere to grab some water,” he offers.

“No, no,” you wave him off, smiling. It’s the alcohol, you know it, but it feels good. You can’t remember the last time you smiled. “I’m fine, promise. I can make it home.”

“Well, let me know,” he shifts gears and checks the rearview camera as he backs out, “I don’t mind making a pitstop.”

You thank him quietly and let your attention drift out the window. Your mind wanders with the aimlessness of alcohol, swirling up dredges of the past. Andy drives slowly, as if indulging your silent reverie for the city streets, and you flinch as he passes a familiar building.

You reach over and grab his arm without thinking. He taps the break, “what is it?”

You gulp and shake your head. Your eyes gloss up as you stare at the building you used to clean in, the one where your ex-husband worked. Probably, still does. Your lip trembles and you bite down on it to make it stop.

“Can you take me somewhere?” You whisper as you retract your hand.

“Sure, just tell me where to go,” he agrees.

You point him onward, down the next corner, and another. You take him on the same path you used to drive daily. There’s a pall cast over both of you as you direct him down the side street and ask him to stop along the curb.

You grip your knees, eyes stuck between your feet. You don’t know if you can look. You take a breath and steel yourself. You make yourself turn your head and you take in the facade of the duplex you once shared with Colin. You see the sign in the yard; for rent. He’s leaving. You’re almost surprised he stayed that long.

You sit there, speechless, just staring. The trance holds you. You see yourself in the driveway, laughing as you carry boxes up, bubbly and excited for your home. Then those nights where you came out in your uniform, kissing him goodbye before you marched off to your shift. The days when you would enjoy the sunshine before you slept, watering the garden, mostly weeds, and just bask in the routine. That’s all gone. It doesn’t feel like it ever was.

The side door opens and see him. Colin walks with shoulders slumped, his tie askew as he shrugs on a jacket. He reaches into his pocket and the tail lights flash on the car in the driveway. You sink down and shield your face behind your hand.

“Please, let’s go,” you croak.

Andy doesn’t ask. Not why, or who, or what. He just accepts it and puts his foot on the gas, pulling away lazily, hiding in plain sight as he continues down to the end of the street.

“I don’t want to go back yet,” you say.

“How about a movie?” Andy offers, “I’m sure there’s something good playing.”

“Sure,” you agree, eager for any excuse to stay out, to detach yourself from the life Lloyd chose for you.

#unexpected #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #andy barber #defending jacob #the gray man #drabble #series

[stanchett]

Hi! I saw your post asking for prompts, so here's one for you, if you'd like. ☺️

Out of all of Nevermore's traditions, Larissa disliked Staff Bonding Nights the most. She preferred to drink her wine alone in her office instead of in a loud bar, thank you very much. But thanks to the new addition to the staff, maybe this time it wouldn't be that bad of an evening...

Here you go!! Thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy!!! :)

I owe a massive thank-you to @pro-weems-places for editing this for me, it was written at 1am and required much revision.

Black and White

Warnings: NSFW, alcohol use

Word count: 3.4k+

Your laptop screen glowed a bright white in your dark bedroom, the seemingly endless stream of emails welcoming you to the Nevermore staff taking up the open tab. The most recent one caught your attention the moment you read the subject line, “Staff Bonding Night at the Weathervane”, written in bold black letters. 

“That could be fun, I suppose...” you pondered to yourself while scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. 

Normally, you were more of an introvert, but you were determined to come out of your shell a bit in light of your new position at the school. You turned in for the night, shutting your laptop and curling up in bed with a nature documentary, unaware of what the following evening would bring.

--------

The next morning was a bit of a drag as you roamed the hallways of the school, nearly getting lost (again) as it was only your second week. It was still early, about an hour before your class was supposed to start. Rounding a corner, you almost run head-first into Larissa Weems, the stunning principal you’d hardly stopped thinking about since meeting upon your hiring. She gasped in surprise and stepped back from you, clutching her chest while she caught her breath.

“Oh Principal Weems, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you coming-” you apologized, but a quick wave of her hand dismissed your apology. 

“It’s quite alright, Ms. Y/L/N. Are you lost? You seem a bit turned around.” You blushed at the realization that you definitely were, and nodded in confirmation to her question. 

“Walk with me darling, I’ll show you the way from here,” Larissa offered, and you gratefully accepted. Keeping in stride and making small talk was easy with her, she was so sweet and polite. You wondered if you would see her that evening at the staff gathering. 

“Hey, will you be at the Weathervane tonight? How do those events usually go?” 

Larissa rolled her eyes with a sigh, “Oh yes, that.. I myself am not normally in attendance, but I’ve heard they can be quite fun, according to other staff members. I much prefer my study and a glass of red personally, but to each their own.” 

Your heart sank a bit at her admission, but you tried not to look too defeated. “Why don’t you give it another shot? After all, I’ll be there..” you said in a mock-suggestive tone, secretly hoping she would realize you meant it in a way that wasn’t entirely a joke. 

Just as you delivered your makeshift pickup line, the two of you arrived at your classroom. You stopped at the door and leaned against it with your arms crossed, looking up at Larissa with a challenging look, “What do you think?” 

She chuckled and looked away from you - was she getting flustered? Clearing her throat, she stated, “I’ll think about it. Enjoy your class this morning, Y/N.” And with that, she headed back to her office. You watched her leave for a moment and smiled to yourself, then removed the keys to your room from your pocket. If she decided to show up tonight, you would make sure she had a great time.

By 5 o-clock that evening, you found yourself rushing around to finish getting ready, hopping out of the hot shower to throw on a button-down and some slacks. Leaving a few buttons undone in hopes you would catch the principal’s attention, you put on some light makeup and headed out the door. You hoped beyond hope that Larissa had made up her mind and decided to show. 

After a short drive down the winding road, you parked outside the café and noticed the inside had been completely revamped to reflect a vibe similar to a nightclub of sorts; the tables had been pushed to the edges of the space or removed altogether to make room for a makeshift dance floor, and the overhead lights dimly lit the room in a variety of colors. “Maybe this’ll be more fun than I thought...” you whispered to yourself, glancing in the mirror of your sun visor to double check your makeup before leaving your car. 

--------

Swinging the front door open, you were immediately greeted by a chorus of hellos from the handful of staff members already inside enjoying themselves, the low hum of dance music hitting your eardrums. 

“Y/N! I’m so happy you showed up! Welcome to our little annual bonding tradition,” Ms. Thornhill exclaimed, quickly looping her arm through yours to guide you to the counter. “Would you like a drink? There’s a full bar and a table of snacks over in the corner, too. You’re welcome to them!”

You smiled your thanks in return, and she patted your back before rejoining a group of teachers by the door. She seemed like the excitable type, which you weren’t really into, but she made you feel included nonetheless and for that you were grateful. 

Peeking past the counter, you spotted Coach Vlad preparing a few drinks. He handed them out, then headed your way with a grin.

“Hey, fresh blood! I’m so glad to see you! What’ll you be having?” 

You thought for a moment before deciding, “Just a Jack and coke for me, Coach. I’m glad I could make it. This place moonlights as a club for you guys, huh?” You jest, leaning on the counter, eager for something to take the edge off your remaining nerves. 

“Oh yeah, the Nevermore staff really knows how to get down,” he joked, gesturing to the dead crowd before you both, all chatting away. He handed you the drink and you took a swig. Strong stuff. You wondered where Larissa could be. Would she really decline your ever-so-convincing offer? 

“I guess Weems doesn’t really ‘get down’ much, does she?” You asked him. His hands were already busy with prepping another drink. 

“Not these days. She hardly shows her face at these events. Not really her style, I gather.” He wandered to the other side of the counter to take some more orders. You took another sip and pulled out your phone, suddenly feeling out of place without someone to really talk to. 

While you were mindlessly scrolling through your social media apps, the group of teachers suddenly went silent, quietly muttering to each other as opposed to the loud conversations they were just having. You look past them and see a flash of silver brush past one of the windows. Was that..?

The front door eased open and you swore you had never seen anyone more beautiful - in walked Larissa, adorned in a silver dress and white elbow-length gloves, her hair done up perfectly. 

Your jaw dropped to the floor and you struggled to keep from staring. She caught your eyes roaming up her figure and strutted her way over to you, politely greeting everyone along the way. It was at that moment you realized the alcohol was starting to hit you, giving you more confidence than you normally possessed. 

Setting your drink aside, you attempted to lean coolly on the counter behind you as she approached. “Fancy meeting you here,” you teased when she reached you, her gloved hand coming to rest on the marble surface next to you, effectively trapping you beside her.

“I suppose I could say the same..” she said, her eyes openly sweeping over you, momentarily coming to rest at your slightly revealing choice of clothing before flicking away to Vlad who was still wearing a look of surprise on his face at her appearance. 

“I’ll have a red, Coach,” she said all too smoothly. Grabbing the wine bottle, he poured her drink with a nod. Her gaze turned back to you, her eyes glistening under the multicolored lights as she regarded you. 

Leaning in, she said in a low voice, “You sure clean up well, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

You were momentarily grateful for the low lighting, positive it hid the blush that quickly rose to your cheeks and shiver down your spine. But you feigned shock at her words, putting a hand to your chest as you retorted, “Principal Weems, are you flirting with me?” 

She raised an eyebrow and elegantly turned to accept her drink, looking you dead in the eye as she took a long sip. You felt a searing heat gather in your lower abdomen. God, this woman is stunning, you thought to yourself. 

“It’s possible,” was all she said. 

There was a sudden clap sounding from the center of the room, an attempt from Thornhill to command everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone, partner up! Let’s get a little dancing in, shall we?” She said with a grin. 

A collective groan passed through the room and she jogged over to you, a huge smile still plastered on her face. “Would you care to join me? It’s your first time here, you have to give it a shot at least!” 

You would feel bad turning her down, so you jokingly rolled your eyes and agreed, Larissa watching your reaction the entire time. She tried to hide her amusement but she was looking forward to this. You swallow the rest of your drink and let Marilyn lead you out onto the dance floor. 

Someone cranked the music up a little higher and you quickly found yourself swaying to the beat, the alcohol in your system doing its job. You were grateful several others ended up taking her up on the offer as well, all of you dancing together to the rhythm. You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the music for a moment, your hips working on their own to keep time with everyone else. Maybe Nevermore really did know how to get down. 

You opened your eyes to see Larissa staring you down from her spot at the bar, her eyes raking over your body while you danced. Without thinking, you reached a hand out to her, wiggling your fingers in the air as a silent signal for her to join you. Tossing the remainder of her wine down her throat, she placed down the glass and stalked over to you, her eyes never leaving yours. She came to stand in front of you, and you boldly placed your hands on her hips. You looked up to catch her eye and confirm that this is alright with her, her only response a sly smirk and a glint of mischief in her eye. 

She began moving her body to the beat in time with you, and you released your hold on her to raise your hands above your head, losing yourself to the music once more. She closely watched your every move, almost hypnotized, like you’d put a spell on her. You turned your back to her and threw her a glance over your shoulder. That was all the invitation she needed. 

Placing her hands on your hips instead, she pulled you against her front for a moment, and you gasped at the contact and her forwardness. You deliberately moved your hips more seductively against her, your intentions becoming infinitely more clear. You knew you couldn’t keep this up in front of your co-workers, so you turned to face her once again as the song ended, tossing your head back with a throaty laugh. 

You looked up to find her smiling down at you, that hint of something more never leaving her glare. You crooked a finger to beckon her down to you, and she quickly leaned down to catch your whisper. “Do you wanna get out of here?” It sounded so cliche, you knew, but in that moment your arousal was almost unbearable. Straightening up again, she nodded in agreement and even in the dim light you swore you saw her cheeks redden. You bit your lip and jerked your head in the direction of the door. 

Waving your goodbyes to everyone in attendance, you passed off the excuse to Thornhill that you were too tipsy to drive in an attempt to avoid suspicion and practically darted out the door, Larissa hot on your heels. Hopping in the passenger side of the school’s van, you waited while the principal buckled up and started the engine. 

“You’re quite the little tease, aren’t you,” she said, her own voice coated in arousal. Her words shoot straight to your core. It was nothing you hadn’t heard before, but it sounded so much better coming from her. Her gloved hand came to rest on your thigh during the drive back to the school, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin. You were ready to hop into her lap just as she pulled into the parking lot, and she quickly cut the engine and got out. 

--------

Once inside, you let her lead the way back to her quarters, your eyes glued to her backside the entire walk there. She unlocked the door and ushered you inside, locking it behind you both before pressing you against it with her hips. You gasped and looked up at her, her pupils blown so wide you could practically see your reflection in them. 

“Is this what you want?” she asked, making certain you’re on the same page before proceeding.

“God yes,” you breathed out, hands coming to rest on her lower back. 

She wasted no time in leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing a deep moan that rumbled from your chest. Her thigh pried your own apart, coming to rest between them and you gasped into her mouth wantonly, your hands grasping her ass. 

“I’ve wanted this from the first time I laid eyes on you,” you husked. 

Her lips worked your neck, making your eyes roll back. “Then that makes two of us,” she whispered, pressing her thigh to your center. 

You let out a breathy moan, your legs threatening to give out. All at once she pulled away to examine her work, her eyes burning into you and you licked your lips in anticipation. 

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed for me.” 

You loved the idea of following her orders. You didn't hesitate, tugging at the buttons of your shirt hurriedly and dropping it to the floor, followed by your pants, leaving you in your matching set of black lace panties and bra. You climbed onto the bed and knelt at its edge, and Larissa turned her back to you, silently prompting you to unzip her dress. 

You took your time in doing so, kissing down her back in the zipper’s wake. You eased the garment off her shoulders and she removed her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby chair. She turned to you to reveal her choice of lingerie; a cream-colored set that complimented her skin tone perfectly. You felt your mouth water at the sight. 

Sitting up on your knees put you at her height at last, and you pulled her into another kiss, this time softer. You passed your tongue over her bottom lip and she granted you entry immediately, a small whimper escaping her throat. You allowed your fingers to tangle themselves in her perfectly pinned-up hair, her own exploring over your body. You arched into her when her fingers found your nipples through your bra, her lips quirking into a playful grin at your reaction. 

“Someone’s eager..” she teased, pinching them experimentally, earning her a gasp from you.

“Lay down for me,” you whispered against her lips. 

With a chuckle she obliged, lowering herself beside you. You quickly took your place between her thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses from her knee up to her inner thighs. Your fingers danced over her core through the fabric, and she shuddered at the contact, spreading her legs further for you. 

“Someone’s eager,” you teased, throwing her own words back at her. 

Larissa covered her face with a giggle, but it quickly turned into a gasp as you finally made contact with her center through her underwear. The heat of your mouth drove her mad with need, and she tugged the offending article off, revealing just how aroused she was for you. A low growl left your chest at the sight and you dove in without a second thought. 

Flattening your tongue against her clit, you finally got a taste of her, and it was well worth the wait. Her sweetness coated your tongue as you devoured her, and you glanced up to watch her writhe beneath your touch. Her back arching as her hands grabbed for anything that would ground her, eventually landing in your hair. Her whimpers were heavenly, you could listen to them all night long. And you planned to. 

Just as her breaths started to quicken, you circled two fingers over her entrance, before easing them into her. She let out a high-pitched moan, and you moaned against her in response, her sounds and the tugging of your hair spurring you on. You began pumping and curling them inside her in time with the strokes of your tongue, and you could tell she was already getting close by the way her walls were tightening around you. 

“Are you gonna come for me baby?” you coaxed, your fingers brushing that sweet spot inside her that drove her wild. 

“Y-yes, I’m- fuck-” 

You could get used to hearing this woman curse. Especially if you were the cause. With a few more gasps and breathy moans, she reached her release, flooding your fingers and mouth with her intense taste. You helped her down from her high before removing your fingers carefully, climbing up beside her and flopping onto your back to catch your breath. 

After a few minutes Larissa wordlessly straddled your waist, lowering her lips to yours to taste herself on your tongue. Whining against her, you squeezed your thighs together for some much-needed friction and she chuckled against your lips. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet,” she teased, her fingers trailing up your thigh. 

With practiced skill she pulled your panties aside, quickly finding your clit and circling it with featherlight touches. You gasped and bit your lip, the coil inside you already wound tightly. She kissed up your torso, her soft lips finding your hardened nipple through your bra with ease. You leaned up on your elbows and removed it for her, the movements of those damned fingers making it a nearly impossible feat. 

She caught the sensitive peak of skin in her teeth before you could lay down again, causing your head to fall back in pleasure, a desperate whimper leaving you. Her tongue circled it in the same pattern as her fingers below and you felt entranced by her touch. You cupped her cheek, encouraging her to meet your heated gaze.

“I need you,” you all but begged, your cheeks turning pink at the nature of your words. 

“That’s all I needed to hear, darling.” 

Her words in such a low tone nearly drove you over the edge, but as she pressed her fingers into you, it took everything in your power to keep from crying out. A pathetic whine still managed to leave your throat despite your efforts. 

Her digits filled you up in the most delicious way and she knew it. She pumped them slowly, finding the same spot in you as you did in her, massaging it as you fell back onto the mattress. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to finish at this rate, but the sudden ascent toward your orgasm took you by surprise. 

“Larissa.. so.. so close,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to stave it off a bit longer. 

Your hands gripped her shoulders, nails digging in. Your vision gained a few black spots when you opened your eyes again, only to find Larissa’s lustful stare looking back.

“It’s alright dear, I want you to come.” 

Her words sounded delectable in your ear when she whispered them to you, and you couldn’t help yourself when you came undone on her fingers, a moaning mess beneath her. You moved to cover your mouth but her hand caught your wrist, pinning it above you. She wanted to hear you, so you let her. 

Once your pulsing around her slowed, she pulled her fingers from you and looked deep into your eyes as she sucked them clean, groaning at your taste. A smirk played on her features, proud of her handiwork as she regarded your now disheveled demeanor.

“Perhaps I’ll make a habit of going to Staff Bonding Nights.” 

You both burst out in laughter before settling into a comfortable silence, soon after falling into a deep sleep, wrapped up in each other.  

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie #requests #my fics

[hisunshiine]

—grey area: avoiding the red | ksj

📈pairing: CFO!seokjin x senior accounting manager!reader 📈au/genre: CEO au, fake dating au, c2l, fluff, smut, angst 📈rating: M 📈wc: 27,659 📈warnings: swearing, vulgar statements, misogyny, eventual mutual pining, fake dating bet, leg injury/sprain, minor boat crash, explicit sexual content: strawberry juice dripping, straddling, making out, clothed grinding, marking, fingering, consent seeking, foreplay, unprotected sex, cock riding, wall sex, stairs sex, mutual orgasm, breast play, oral (f & m receiving), cum swallowing, hair pulling   📈an: beta readers: @peachiilovesot7, @downbad4yoongi, @heathfritillary-blog, @colormepurplex2, @moonleeai, @pennpad-bts thank you so much for all of your beta reading and brainstorming and help! to all my readers who have stuck by me, you mean the world. I am so sorry it took me so long to post this, but it's finally here! 📈summary: Recently inducted CFO Kim Seokjin is the head of finances at JinHit Conglomerate after his father retires. You, the senior accounting manager for the company, begin to stomp around in your heels complaining about areas that need mitigating for the business to continue to run smoothly after a meeting gone wrong. When Seokjin makes a bet with you to see if the two of you can hide a romantic relationship from work peers, several things are revealed OR The one where Seokjin wants to get you only in your heels.

taglist: @flxrcnt @ggukkieland​ @yoongisdragon​

masterlist | one | two | three | four | you are here | six | seven

in the red (idiom): spending and owing more money than is being earned

Jaw clenched tightly as you ignore the tension running through your body, your finger slowly scrolls the webpage you’re viewing on your laptop. Price tags be damned, you couldn’t care less about the cost of the bejeweled heels—you had to have them. It will just have to wait a few paychecks before you can purchase them. If you could even afford them after today. The Saeda 100 Unicorn Printed Satin Pumps with Crystal Embellishment; a gorgeous colored pump that would be the pièce de résistance to an all black or white outfit. 

Online shopping is one of your favorite coping skills, a great calming technique to get your mind off the email you received almost a half hour ago, for a meeting you were summoned to attend in five minutes. A meeting JinHit’s Board of Directors summoned you to attend, to be exact. You checked the email several times, opening the list of recipients to full view to see everyone who was invited, and the vein throbbing in your forehead pulses at the reminder. 

Only the C-Suite and the heads of each department will be in attendance, and the knowledge of what this could mean sends a shiver down your rigid spine. Seokjin had asked you to prepare the financial report last week for the board to review; it doesn’t seem coincidental that the meeting is being called a day after you sent it. 

Adjusting your position where you sit in the meeting room currently, having arrived earlier than normal to choose your favorite seat, you cross a leg over your thigh, bouncing your matte black Balenciaga Knife 110MM pumps in time with your anxiety.

“Can you please just relax?” Seokjin mutters. “The constant bouncing is giving me a headache.”

You grit your teeth, molars grinding against each other as you hold back your remarks. Easy for you to say, you think, not all of us have the luxury to relax. Stilling the ankle that was flexing up and down in a jittery dance, you lower your leg and straighten your slacks.

“I’m sorry, sir.” My leg wouldn’t bother you if you hadn’t followed me from the accounting wing. “The board meeting has me worried. If office gossip on WeVerse is anything to go by, I’m afraid we might not be employed for much longer.” 

Jin twirls a Montblanc fountain pen worth more than your monthly rent as he stares at you, nonplussed. 

“I highly doubt that, Kicks. There’s no need to exaggerate. You’re busy looking at expensive heels again, anyway, so it’ll be fine.”

You huff at the nickname he’s bestowed upon you for your shoe obsession, rolling your eyes as you close them before taking a deep, deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Maybe you’ll still be CFO of JinHit, sir, but not all of us are nepo-babies. If anyone is going to be fired, it’ll be me. So I’m looking at heels to see the last thing I can purchase with my severance pay before I’m destitute. Sir.” 

“I don’t know why you bother keeping up pretenses by calling me ‘sir’ when you talk to me like that,” he mutters. “Calling me a damn nepo-baby.” 

You run down the list of all of the attendees in your head once more. Kim Namjoon, CEO, Kim Seokjin, CFO, Min Yoongi, General Counsel (the company's main attorney and primary source of legal advice), Jung Hoseok, JinHit Entertainment Division manager, Kim Taehyung, recently promoted Property Acquisition Division Manager, Jeon Jungkook, CIO, yourself, and a few other heads of departments you aren’t as familiar with. Lastly, all of the board members, minus Park Jimin’s father, though he’s in the room instead, stepping in for his father who is away on vacation.  

“You make me laugh, Kicks. I’m so glad to have you by my side.” Seokjin can’t help but chuckle. 

“If only I could say the same,” you grumble under your breath.

“One day, you’ll say you love me.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention to the men walking in through the door. Discreetly you close the tab to the Jimmy Choo website and pull up your email instead, awaiting the soft ding! that alerts you to the agenda and any additional documents you will need. 

The room is full of the sounds of creaking leather and quiet chatter as the gentlemen settle into their seats for the meeting to commence. 

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“This is an outrage!”

“What have the heads of finance been doing? Getting their fucking dicks wet by fucking secretaries in the janitor’s closet?” 

You narrow your eyes at the older man who had the audacity to speak in such a way during a meeting, seemingly forgetting that the Senior Accounting Manager is you, and that you do not have a dick to fuck said secretary with.

“Please, Mr. Choi, the finance department has been working just as much as everyone else, and the Senior Accounting Manager,” the CEO gestures to you as he reminds the man of your name, “she has been more than transparent with me about the state of our finances for this quarter.” 

The other men in the room appear to have the wherewithal to look flummoxed at Mr. Choi’s outburst in the presence of a woman, but their reactions don't keep his thin lips quiet. 

“So, she’s the one getting fucked in the janitor’s closet. Either way, the finances are abysmal and something must be done!” Mr. Choi throws a printed copy of your financial report in your direction, and you can see the top sheet flutter onto the floor with your name splashed across it. He was being obtuse on purpose—he knew damn well who prepared the financial report.

Seokjin’s hand clamps down on your thigh, holding you back from lunging across the table at the grey-haired misogynist as he speaks. 

“Please, Mr. Choi, I know you’re a little jealous that no one is fucking you,” everyone in the room laughs at Seokjin’s light banter, “but I promise you, the finance department is working on options to help make up for the expenses.”

Incensed, Mr. Choi stands up, face red with fury at being made a fool. You almost expect him to turn his ire on Seokjin for his words, but the reality of the situation is that Mr. Choi would never dare to curse out the son of the previous CFO and namesake of the company. 

“As the Senior Accounting Manager,” he starts with a sneer, “you should’ve had a better handle on what was happening right under your nose.” He thrusts his fat finger at you, spittle flying as his anger gains traction. “This is why women shouldn’t be in positions like this. You’re useless to this company, and if it were up to me, I would fire you for letting the company get so close to the red line. Seokjin, she reflects poorly on you.”

“Mr. Choi.” Namjoon’s tone is final as he rises to his feet, dragon eyes cutting daggers. “Please respect my employees.” The ‘or else’ is not said, but implied.

You shake with rage, holding back tears of frustration at how no one is coming to your defense. Sure, the CEO asked the board member to respect you, but only after said board member had already besmirched your name. After he had so rudely made insinuations about how poorly he thinks of you and ignored that Kim Seokjin is the Chief Financial Officer and the true overseer of the finances. No one says anything to defend your honor or put the man in his place for talking to an employee this way.

“I’ll respect her when she does her fucking job right! You have until the first quarter of the new year to fix this shit.” Mr. Choi turns and leaves the room dramatically, and for once, you’re glad that you didn’t say anything, because you aren’t fired—yet. Had you opened your mouth, you might have been.

The rest of the room quietly turns to light talk as you direct your heated face to the open report on your laptop. The finances for the year highlight some of the major spending across the departments totalling several million once all added together; several million that were not accounted for at the start of the year when budgets were drawn up and outlined. 

First, there was the $2 million dollar loss from the Property Acquisition department thanks to one Kim Taehyung and late paperwork, then stocks dropped from the Facebook video released of C-Suite members and the impromptu start of the non-profit side company NAMU. The cost of going green to implement practices to support NAMU and raise the value of the stocks once again, and the cost of acquiring a new partnership with LeeCo Cosmetics due to Hoseok’s arranged marriage.  

“Ahem,” Namjoon clears his throat, calling everyone’s attention. “Now that everyone has had ample time to review the finance report, I think the best way forward is to come up with a plan to implement for the start of the next quarter to change the projection of the report away from the red line.”

“How long do we have to develop a plan?” Seokjin asks, eyes darting over to your silently seething frame.

“You have the month, Jin. December will be spent researching in order to make a decision and create a plan to implement in January. We will re-evaluate the financial report at the end of the first quarter to ensure that there are no negative consequences for the decisions we’ve made, and go from there. Remember, the fiscal year ends March 31st, so we only have the quarter to fix this. Dismissed.”

The room empties out, with Namjoon cutting his eyes at Seokjin to keep him seated. You still needed to gather the documents and calm down before you did something rash, so it’s just the three of you left once the door swings shut.

“Seokjin, I understand why, but do you have to always be so unserious?” Namjoon sighs out. 

“What do you mean? I was just giving back what he was dishing out,” Seokjin defends, not seeing the issue with what transpired. 

“You know he went and called your dad as soon as he walked out of the room, right?”

“And? The man retired—I’m the CFO now, not my father. It’ll be fine!”

Namjoon just stares at him, before giving you a pitying look that you despise. You know he means it more as sympathy for how you were treated, but it makes you feel different from the others somehow, like you can’t handle the atmosphere of the “wealthy businessmen club”. He nods at you both before he stands and leaves, and Seokjin is not far behind him. 

You bend down to gather the documents once your breathing has regulated. 

You were right to have been worried about this meeting.

The first week after that dreaded meeting, you spend your time researching the various financial avenues the company has and begin to dissect them for potential areas of mitigation. Seokjin pulls you aside into one of his many offices, this one located on the financing floor, and tries to talk to you about what happened with Mr. Choi, but you don’t let him get but a few words out before cutting in to tell him off for letting you take the blame as soon as the door closes behind you. 

“You actually sat there and didn’t say anything to that sexist pig!” You jab Seokjin in the chest to emphasize the last three syllables. “I should report him to HR for sexual harassment! That’ll teach the geriatric asshole.” 

Grabbing your shoulders gently, Seokjin leans his face down to your height. Maintaining a calm, soothing tone, he attempts to placate you. “Kicks, I did speak up, but he’s my godfather and I can’t go around cursing my daebu (대부) at work—”

“You didn’t speak up to support me, Seokjin, you made a joke and defended the department, but he was attacking me, and you didn’t say shit. None of you did.”

Pulling away from him, you wrap your arms around yourself as if to self-soothe with a hug, taking several deep breaths to compose yourself. His touches have been growing more frequent lately, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re acting like a deranged woman since the dreaded meeting, or if you’re noticing it because of other reasons. Not that you would ever date a coworker or anything… 

Stepping away from him allows you a chance to breathe, despite how nice it feels when he uses physical contact to comfort you. Arranging your features, you steady yourself as you turn on your heel to face him again. 

“I’m sorry for my language, sir. If you will excuse me, I’ll take my lunch now and then we can meet to discuss my findings.” 

Without waiting for Seokjin to respond, you step around him and exit his office. You walk towards your desk and grab your convertible laptop and a thin manila folder before you head out of the finance wing. Trekking through the hallways to the elevator, you shake off the outburst as you pass through the waist-high metal safety gate and into the lobby. You hear a high-pitched voice yell out your name.

“Hey, I know you’re plenty busy, but I’ve been tasked with spearheading the holiday party committee, and we need your approval for the budget. Can you sign off on these documents for me?” Ji-Soo asks. “If I had the time, I would run this up to finance,” she adds, “Seokjin is so hot…Damn. How do you handle working so closely with him?”

The front desk representative bats her kohl-lined eyes at you, swinging her long black hair over her shoulder. Her flowy off-the-shoulder blouse reveals a cute, tiny heart-shaped tattoo inked onto her skin. You hate her insinuation that you’re attracted to your boss and the way her eyebrows move as if to suggest that you and Seokjin are anything like her and Jimin. You may find him good-looking, but you have more sense than to be seen C-Suite hopping.  

Ignoring her second question, you respond, “I’m on my way to grab lunch, but I can review the documents and let you know if the budget is approved.”

Ji-Soo’s face morphs into one of distaste.

“Why do you need to review it? Can’t you just sign it now? Seokjin always approved the holiday party budgets in the past.”

You groan, knowing that you would be competing with the legacy Seokjin left behind after his promotion to CFO after his father stepped down for retirement. When it was okay to be fiscally irresponsible, because other employees hadn’t racked up millions in expenses out of the blue. 

“Sorry, Ji-Soo. Orders from the stakeholders—all budgets have to be reviewed before approval.” You grasp the papers she unceremoniously brandished at you and tuck them into the manila folder. “I’ll get this back to you once it’s been properly assessed.”

“Hey!” Ji-Soo calls after you as you walk away from her, “I need that by the end of the week! Party planning is not cheap!”

Feet still moving, you wave your hand over your shoulder at her, not bothering to spare her a glance. “End of the week, got it!”

Lunch is boring; you hadn’t actually meant to leave for your thirty-minute break today, but after your outburst you felt some exercise would do you good. The small cafe near the office building is the perfect spot to set up your laptop and browse through documents, the Jimmy Choo website, and perk up with a late afternoon latte. 

Opening up the fillable PDF file for budget assessment proposals, you begin reviewing the holiday party plans. It pains you to see some of the outlandish expenses they want: an ice sculpture of the company logo, open bar with top-shelf liquor, performance by an upcoming American artist breaking into the scene, and several gift packages for raffles, just to name a few.

Downing the rest of your coffee, you type up your review and draft an email to Ji-Soo, attaching a PDF scan of her proposal and your budget assessment, denying her requests. You ask her to reduce the cost of the party by several hundred thousand, providing a list of things she can mitigate to reach the approved goal, and then you turn on your auto reply so as to avoid her wrath. Walking back into the office building, you blend in with the after lunch crowd and make it back to the small finance department conference room to meet with Seokjin. 

Seokjin’s POV

Kim Seokjin sits in the conference room in finance, several levels away from his office where the other C-Suite executives reside, waiting for you. Seokjin has worked with you for several years in finance before his promotion, and you were by far the most qualified Senior Accounting Manager he’s ever met. 

He knows he’s lucky to have you, and not just for your skills and personality—you’re also easy on the eyes. Seokjin’s always been tempted to ask you out, cross that boundary of coworkers, but the timing’s never been right. With his promotion at the start of the year, the chasm has gotten wider, his resolve fading with it. 

After you leave for your lunch break, he settles into the conference room replaying the way your hips swayed as you walked away from him. Chuckling at the way your perfect image cracked and he got to hear his name roll off of your tongue—that is until the smile is wiped away as he remembers what led to it. You were right. He didn’t defend you in that meeting earlier in the week, simply too gobsmacked by Mr. Choi’s choice of words to even think clearly. The image it put into his head, you in the hallway closet with those legs wrapped around his waist, letting him fuck you into oblivion—in just those heels you stomp around in, so authoritative-like…Seokjin licks his lips as his fingers clench the edge of his desk, before he shakes the image away. 

He hates that you feel like you do; growing up he spent so much time at the office, running around with Namjoon as their dads built the company from the ground up, and the women in the office always took care of them. 

Mrs. Im was the payroll bookkeeper when he was just a child; his love for numbers and accounting started with her. She tutored him in math through primary school, even helping him pass the Suneung, or the CSAT national test, to get into college. He saw how hard it was for her to move up in the department, often being looked over for her male counterparts, despite being better than them. As far as the finance department goes, payroll is the lowest on the totem pole. Mrs. Im only made it one level up to Staff Accountant, despite being able to count circles around the men and it never seemed fair.

Now, the company is much more with the times, with many women in not only the finance department, but in information technology, and men in nontraditional roles as well, like the secretary who is in the entertainment department, Kai. As for your position, the only person above you in the hierarchy is himself, and some days Seokjin wishes he could promote you into his role for all your hard work. He curses his daebu in his head for the way his backwards thinking has negatively affected you, and then curses himself for not being able to support you the way you deserved in that meeting. 

Seokjin fields text messages from his father about the company’s finances, Namjoon’s assumption that Mr. Choi called his father, having been correct. It’s been an ongoing conversation since the moment he left the meeting—his father bothering him day and night about his behavior.

아버지 (Father) - 12:48 pm : You should not have spoken like that in a meeting. Choi told me that you were talking back, not taking any accountability for the financial crisis the company could be facing, and that girl was impertinent. For once, can you just take this job seriously? Can you take your life seriously? Jin - 12:49 pm: Aren’t you retired?

Once your lunch break ends, Seokjin can’t hide the smile on his face as you enter the room, setting your belongings on the table with a sigh. 

“Ji-Soo stopped me as I was leaving to talk about the holiday party. Can we discuss it at the end of the meeting?”

“Of course. Let’s get the business out of the way, then.”

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“Absolutely not.”

“But sir, the amount of money that we spend every month on the Friday event, especially with it being a half day of work getting done…even to reduce it for the first quarter could make significant gains to remain in the black.”

Seokjin crosses his arms across his chest, leaning back in the office chair. 

“You have to understand, Kicks. The Friday event is only once a month. It’s important for employee morale, not to mention the amount of impact we have on the community right here. There’s the Cho family who runs the Korean street food truck. Half of their monthly revenue comes from this one day. The parents have a daughter in college and she has a small son they look after while she’s in class. They wouldn’t be able to support them both without us.”

You level Seokjin with a gaze that he wishes he could act upon, taking you up on the challenge it serves.

“You want to continue Fun Fridays to save this ONE restaurant?” you ask, leaning your elbows onto the table as you peer closely at Seokjin, analyzing him. Your hands are clasped tightly in front of you as you hold back the urge to fix the wayward strand of hair that falls across his forehead.

“Well, no—not just this one. It helps all of the local companies who come out to provide for us—this was just an example that should pull at your heartstrings.” Seokjin leans towards you, placing his hand atop yours to sell the sentimental connection he’s using to keep Fridays as is. “These are real people who rely on us. And our employees rely on them. People want to work here and our stocks do well because the employees brag about once-a-month Fridays on WeVerse. It would be foolhardy to our reputation to remove it.” He gestures dramatically with his hands to emphasize just how foolhardy he finds it, and you suddenly miss the warmth of his hand on yours. 

“Fine.” You look down at the next item on the list, gathering your thoughts away from the dangerous path of Seokjin’s hands on yours. “My next proposal is to make a change to the employee health benefits. I looked into it and we can lower company costs if we choose the specific provider for employees. I’ve found a clinic with three primary care doctors that provided us with an estimate. They project to have a great low cost for the company and there would be less contribution from the employees as well. A win-win.”

You smugly slide over the information you gathered for Seokjin’s review. He can’t help but admit to himself that this is a possible option. He doesn’t like that it would throw off the plans already in place, but as long as the doctors are reputable, he feels confident in this choice. 

“Can you tell me a little bit about the clinic or the doctors we would be assigned?”

“Sure, uh, their names are…Hyun Yong-in, Jung Hyun-tae and Lee Wan-soo. They work for—”

“—Incheon 21st Century Hospital,” Seokjin interrupts. You glower at him. 

“Next idea.”

“What? Why?!”

“Because, Kicks, if you had done a little more digging, you would know why the fee is so low. They had a massive lawsuit, malpractice and fraud, allowing interns and assistants to perform surgery on patients without consent or supervision. They should’ve lost their licenses. I didn’t realize they were done with their jail time. Two years goes by fast.”

He watches you pale visibly at the news, just a few shades lighter than normal as you swallow the information. Folding his convertible laptop so that it becomes a touchscreen tablet, he taps for a few moments before proffering the screen to you. 

“Oh,” you gulp. “Well, I have one more idea to help the company.”

Pulling out the printed paper from the manila folder, you pass the list of departments to Seokjin for him to review. 

“These are all of the departments of JinHit Conglomerate with a brief description of what they handle.” Leaning over, you point to a small subsection under the Information Technology sector. “This right here is a small department that is listed under IT, but could also be considered Marketing. It houses the Social Media Managers—three employees who oversee engagement, content, and analytics for the company’s online platforms and presence.”

Seokjin nods.

“Yes, they are the ones who caught wind of the video Khaity posted…We had to make sure that moving forward they didn’t contact the board first, but me and Joon.” Seokjin shakes his head at the memory. “That was a shitshow,” he mutters.

“Well, take a look at the expenses this department has incurred. The cost of new equipment for all three members, including desktops here in the office and work devices, to take on the go and to have at home; high-speed gigabit internet speeds, several purchases for access to databases and systems to track the company name and various projects we are working on, a stipend for food—I don’t even know why they need that—plus these charges to the company card for a massage therapist to come in-house three times a week!” You huff in indignation at the ridiculousness of the expenses as Seokjin’s phone chimes from an incoming message.

“So what are you proposing we do? Cut out massages? Or are you offering to be my personal masseuse? I have a few areas you could—”

“I will call HR so quick—”

“I’m kidding, sheesh! You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered! Anyway,” you redirect the conversation away from another spiraling train of thought as your tablet dings, “this department incurs more expenses per member than some of the entertainment sector, so I think we need to merge these workers into other departments with a significant decrease to the special treatment they have been receiving and do a sweep through ALL department expenses, mitigating all of the superfluous things, like fucking massage therapists being on-call in-house three times a week.”

“The employees are not going to like this—we've always allowed them the ability to not be micromanaged when it comes to workplace spending,” Seokjin answers, but he knows this is the best bet to meet the board’s requirements and stay on your good side. “But okay.”

“Great. I’ll draft the memo to be sent out as soon as possible so that from now on, all expenses will be reviewed by me before charges can be processed by the company.” A quiet pinging chimes as you talk. “All spending must go through a request and approval process. I’ve already drafted the forms for requesting funds, and this is a great segue into Ji-Soo and the holiday party. She can be the first to complete the new process for approval, since I’ve already completed the form and sent it to her.”

Jin huffs out a disbelieving chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment of relief.

“Well, that explains the back-to-back emails she’s sent while we’ve been talking. She must not understand that emails are not like text messages.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say that Ji-Soo is surpassing the CEO with her IQ score.” You click the keys on the tablet keyboard, avoiding looking at Seokjin, lest you start to laugh as another ding fills the silence from his constantly chirping phone.

“Kicks! It’s so rare to see you snip back—she must’ve done something to get under your skin.” Seokjin smirks, thinking about how he wants to be next.

“Just thinking about how if we could fire some people, that would also help with costs.”

“For now, we’ll stick to option three and your plan to assess all company fund requests. I’ll report this to Namjoon and you can work on your memo. And please, if you love me at all,” Seokjin pauses so that he can stand up and gather his device and pen, “reply to Ji-Soo before she files a complaint.”

“Yes, sir.” And you will, but not because you have any kind of feelings for your boss. 

Reader POV

Ji-Soo is not happy with the reply email you sent to her, but you don’t care. Unfortunately, it’s your job that’s on the line, though you wish it would be hers. Her many office dalliances are of no secret to you thanks to being so close to one of the C-Suite employees, but there isn’t much you can do about it.

The rest of the weekend and following week is spent writing up the memo for the CEO to approve and send out to all departments, prepping all of the review documents you will be using for requests, and meeting with the CIO, Jeon Jungkook, to discuss the rearranging of the IT Departments so that the staff members can be placed accordingly. 

Friday afternoon, a reminder email comes through about the Company Holiday party happening tomorrow. You didn’t forget about it—not with the way Ji-Soo bothers you almost daily about how hard it is to plan the event with the limited funds you provided her. You roll your eyes at her email—the slight dig at the change of venue due to the financial department’s mitigations did not go unmissed by you. 

In actuality, she has the same amount of money for decorations and food as previous years—making her use the JinHit building as the location instead of renting out an expensive ballroom or hotel conference room allowed you to approve her decorations, food, and drink budget. 

Moving the email into the relevant folder, you close down your computer for the weekend, excited to finally be done with the long week. You plan to attend the event, and as you pack up your belongings to head home, you think through the various outfits in your closet to piece together what you might want to wear. 

“Hey, Kicks!” Seokjin’s loud voice calls out to you as you wait for the elevator car to arrive on your floor. The finance department is located on the 48th floor, below the C-Suite offices, and it isn’t every day that people frequently travel this high. Most of the Property Acquisition department left earlier, also located on this floor; so the quiet atmosphere allows his voice to travel farther than usual.

“Hey, Seokjin. Have a good weekend,” you say in greeting and farewell so as to not prolong a conversation. He doesn’t take the hint and steps next to you, his heady cologne filling the elevator waiting area. His black hair is pushed back off of his forehead, showing his annoyingly handsome face, and you turn away from his brown eyes smiling at you.

“Oh, I’m sure this weekend will be more than good. Are you coming tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Need to witness with my own eyes how it turns out so Ji-Soo can’t lie.”

Seokjin laughs as the elevator sounds to alert that the carriage has arrived. The two of you board, the enclosed space unsurprisingly empty. Being alone with him is nothing you aren’t used to—but lately you’re noticing he’s frustratingly handsome, which makes it harder for you to still blame him for the finance meeting debacle.

“Sounds like something she would do,” he finishes after laughing, pressing the button to the 50th floor, causing the trajectory of the elevator to lurch upward.

“Seokjin!”

“What? You know I have two offices and I left my briefcase upstairs. Wait for me, please?” he begs as the door opens and he takes off at a slow jog down the hallway. You sigh, pressing the door open button a few times as you wait for him to return. You’re annoyed and ready to go home, and this just highlights how much he enjoys getting under your skin and earning a reaction from you. He’s back quickly, only slightly out of breath as you press the button for the ground floor.

“Thanks, Kicks. It’s creepy leaving here by myself.”

You look at him incredulously.

“It’s not creepy. Most of the lights are still on!”

“Barely! Plus now that it’s winter, the sun sets earlier. Look,” he gestures out the elevator’s tinted glass window. “It’s already setting.”

“It’s not setting, it just looks darker because the glass is tinted for shade so we don’t fry on the way up to the office.”

“If it’s hot in here, I can get off,” he offers, pointing to the button for the 37th floor that he can press to stop the motion of the elevator’s descent.

“You really think you’re hot, huh?”

“You don’t agree?” Seokjin challenges, stepping into your space. His arms cage your body in, and he tilts his head to look down at you. You fight the urge to stare at his lips, instead biting your own as you maintain eye contact. 

“Oh Seokjin, there are so many things I don’t agree with you on.” You decide to take this opportunity and fluster him for a change. You close the gap dividing you from Seokjin and begin to run your hand along the top of his head, as if in a loving manner. You hold back a laugh at the way his eyes close in contentment at the feel of your fingers sliding along his scalp, unaware of your actual goal. Your fingers curl around his locks, giving you a good grip to pull his head back and away from you.

“Ow, ow!” He hollers as he steps away from you, releasing you from the tension built within his arms.

“Sorry, sir.” Smugly, you cross your arms as he rubs at his scalp while shooting daggers at you, knowing it’s all in jest.

The two of you continue to playfully banter on the way down to the main lobby, parting ways as he heads to his reserved parking spot and you walk to the bus stop near the building that most employees utilize to get home. 

📈📈📈📈📈

Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you fix your dress, eyes leaving the thigh slit in your dress to gaze at the black Louis Vuitton FAME pumps adorning your feet. The cocktail dress is black, showing off ample shoulder and legs, while accentuating all of your best body parts. Grabbing your winter coat and clutch, you head downstairs to the waiting KakaoTaxi that will take you to the office.

The lobby of JinHit is full of people arriving, greeting each other and taking photos in front of the ice sculpture of the company logo. On the other side of the main desk from the elevators, a makeshift coat check has been erected, with a small line of your coworkers turning in their heavy coats so they can enjoy the party. After dropping off your own jacket, you make your way to the elevator, waving salutations to coworkers you see. The CEO’s secretary, NaBi, poses with the CIO, Jungkook, in front of a beautiful backdrop of a snowy forest, fake snow falling from a machine positioned above. Yoongi and Jimin stand to one side, clearly arguing back and forth about something, though both have a smile on their face. Reaching the elevator, the doors open as soon as you press the button, and you’re quickly rising to the 5th floor. 

The 5th floor is often referred to as the Study Area, because it houses several quiet areas for the employees to access. The entertainment section uses it the most, with the various celebrities signed to JinHit doing work, studying their craft, and holding meetings in the rooms. The first door, and the main location of the party is called The Library, because one side of the wall is filled with bookshelves and books, while the opposite side holds floor-to-ceiling glass windows. There is a balcony within The Library that looks down upon the main floor, and tonight, it’s filled with white covered tables with a good sized area for people to dance and mingle.

As you take in the decorations, you can’t help but admire Ji-Soo’s efforts, and when she appears from a side door directing a working staffer on the placement of silverware, you tell her so. 

“Thank you, YN…not that your goal to cut down on spending was of any help.”

“Yes, I am sure that this is not the venue you had in mind, but you’ve done a wonderful job.”

“Wow, babes, this looks great!” Jimin walks into the room, followed by Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook. 

“Yes, I worked very hard for almost two weeks on planning this.” Ji-Soo curls herself into Jimin’s arms as he wraps an arm around her waist. They walk further into the room to allow the crowd to enter, and soon The Library is full of people grabbing plates for the buffet line and getting drinks from the bar set up beneath the balcony. You decide to get a drink first, avoiding the crowd lining up to get first dibs on the food emitting a delicious aroma into the room.

The bartender is skilled, shaking bottles and pouring liquor for your waiting coworkers. The Malibu Bay Breeze you ordered is paired with a couple of cherries that sway in the glass as it slides down the bar to you. Taking a sip, you enjoy the refreshing taste of the cran-pineapple and coconut rum as it takes over your tastebuds.

“What did you order? Is it good?”

You nod your head at NaBi, who recently joined you at the bar, as you take another long sip from the thin black straw. 

“It’s perfect! Not overly sweet, but the rum isn’t overpowering it either.”

“I’ll have to try that one after I finish my amaretto sour.” She gestures to the bartender who is mixing her order. 

“They taste so good, I bet the party will get a little wild soon.” 

You both look at the crowd on the dance floor, surprised that so many people are already swaying to the beat and most of the tables are full with diners. The event planner is wrapped around Jimin, body gyrations bordering on dangerously inappropriate for a work party. NaBi laughs at the display before leaving you alone to join her work husband, Jungkook, at a table near the thrusting lovebirds. 

Heading to the buffet line, you decide to eat before you order a second drink, wanting to keep some semblance of control over your gross motor functions and not end up as the gossip all over the WeVerse App.

📈📈📈📈📈

“Wow, Kicks…you look amazing.”

You try your best to turn around slowly, but the alcohol seems to come out of nowhere and you’re a little wobbly on your platform pumps. Luckily, you didn’t choose a stiletto, or you might have fallen straight into your boss.

“Hello, sir. Thank you.” You blink a few times, trying to get his handsome face to stop turning into triplets. 

“Why are you hiding up here?” He looks down at your coworkers from where you’re both standing against the clear railing of the balcony. “Are you okay? Too much to drink?”

“You know? I think the juice tricked me. It was sweet so I had a few more than I usually would…now you have twin brothers.”

Seokjin guffaws loudly, but the music is now so loud it doesn’t draw anyone’s attention.

“You look a bit flushed, do you want me to get you some water?”

“Actually, yes, can we go get water? I was afraid to go downstairs in case I tripped and fell.”

Seokjin nods, offering his arm to you so that you can balance as he walks you over to the stairs to guide you down them safely. You thank him as he leads the way to the bar, loosening his bowtie as he motions for two water bottles. You fan your face as he uses one hand to pick up the bottles placed on the bar, and taking in your current state, Seokjin places his hand on the small of your back to head towards the outdoor access entrance through the glass wall. 

The winter chill of the night air is soothing to your hot skin and you sink into the patio loveseat to rest your heels and your eyes.

“Here,” the crackling of the water bottle opening signals you to reach your hand out blindly and grasp the cool plastic.

A big gulp and deep breath help immensely, and you feel the loveseat dip as Seokjin drops down next to you. His body heat radiates comfortingly, and you catch yourself cuddling into his side. You miss the way Seokjin’s eyes sparkle at the initiation of touch. 

“So, despite cutting costs, the annual holiday party turned out pretty well, I think,” Seokjin says, raising his water to his plush lips to drink before continuing, “did you have fun?”

“We’re still here, but yes, I am having fun. Thank you for getting me outside. I feel a lot better.”

“That’s good,” he murmurs as you curl into him more, seeking his heat. He hesitates before lowering his arm around the back of the loveseat, resting it behind you as if to welcome you into his space more. “I can’t believe it’s already December.”

You sit upright, a gasp leaving your mouth as his words ring in your eyes. 

“Oh my god, it’s December.”

“I know I just said tha—”

“I missed your birthday!”

Seokjin watches your face as it cycles through all of the stages of grief before settling on a pouty acceptance. 

“It’s no big deal, I didn’t get to celebrate much with everything going on right now. We’ve had to stay late and double check the daily financial reports, and I’ve been meeting with the department heads and it’s not a big birthday anyways. Next year though, you better remember.”

You nod solemnly, tipsiness clouding your ability to see through his playful manner. “Yes, sir. I will, I promise.”

Seokjin chuckles at your seriousness, hand moving to the top of your head where he smooths down the pieces that were disturbed when you had leaned into him. You preen at the touch, chest pushing into his side as you close your eyes and enjoy the feel of his fingers against your hair. 

“You’re cute when you drink.”

You glare at him as best as you can, but it just makes him laugh harder. 

“So, what do you want for your birthday? Or for Christmas since I missed this year?”

Seokjin’s face turns thoughtful, eyebrows furrowing together as his eyes look to the night sky in thought. 

“I think…I just want my father to recognize how much I actually care about the company. I’m trying to be the best CFO I can be, but man, if by Christmas he can relax from hounding me over the finances, that would be fucking great. If not, by next year we better be as far from the red as possible.”

His words strike a chord with you. The past week that you’ve been working hard at the mitigation plans and finance approvals, you didn’t even take into account how busy Seokjin was—to the point he didn’t even make a fuss about his birthday. He’d actually been really helpful, providing you with information to make your job easier.  

“We will be, Jin,” you promise, “you’re doing a great job helping me with mitigating things. Speaking of—I wish we could mitigate her.” You stare pointedly through the window back into the building, where a very drunk Park Jimin has his white shirt unbuttoned seductively low as an equally drunk Ji-Soo is taking pictures of him with her phone. 

“Ji-Soo? She’s harmless.”

“No one who has slept with a C-Suite executive is ever harmless to a company. Workplace romances rarely work out. She isn’t harmless; she’s a risk, and untouchable right now.”

A strong gust causes Seokjin to shiver, unconsciously pulling you closer to his body and you seek his warmth. Closing your eyes, you cuddle into his broad chest as you listen to him continue with the conversation.  

“She’s just the front desk secretary, Kicks.”

“Exactly. A lower level employee who has slept with both Kim Namjoon, the CEO, and Park Jimin, a board member’s son—who knows who else is on the list. She can choose to sell her stories to the highest bidder, at any time, for any reason. But she does her job, so we have no reason to fire her that wouldn’t be contestable in a court.”

“Ohhhh,” Seokjin’s eyebrows raise cutely, “the risk is that she could cause us to spend money in court, be tied up in litigation, or spend money on a settlement.”

“I knew you were the CFO for a reason,” you smile up at him from where he has you comfortably tucked, and he looks so handsome from this view.

“Ah, Kicks, you need to have a little fun in your life. No risk, no reward.” He winks at you, and under the city lights, he looks dazzling. “I would also like to point out something you may or may not be privy to…but I happen to know there are currently four successful workplace romances happening at this moment. They’re cute,” he sighs wistfully, “I wish I had a cute work boo.”  

“Yes, I am privy to this knowledge, seeing as I work with you, gossip queen,” you tease, “but also, relationships can look one way to outsiders, but in reality, there could be all sorts of issues, abuse, infidelity, petty arguments…”

“Yeah, those are my friends outside of work—accusing them of abuse and cheating is a bit of a reach to try and prove your singular example right.” He looks at you thoughtfully. “I bet if we were dating, we would easily be successful. Not everything is a risk.”

“If we were dating, we wouldn’t be stupid like them,” you nod back to where the two lovebirds are canoodling in the shadowed corner of the room, “but still risky nonetheless.”

“How about this…I’ll take you out on a few dates, and we can see if anyone we work with catches wind of our fake relationship. I think we could keep it under wraps for two weeks.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“How about those pretty Jimmy Choo heels you were eyeing? Prove me wrong and they’re yours.”

You feel your eyes grow wide, imagining those coveted heels on your feet as you walk into work once the new year rolls in.

“I’m feeling like I may regret this in the morning, but what the hell, I want those shoes…It’s a deal.”

📈📈📈📈📈

The following Sunday evening finds you lounging around at home, cleaning and doing laundry as you sip a glass of red wine and come up with your list of rules for your challenge with Seokjin. In the light of day and with sober minds, you texted each other, realizing that you need some way to measure the challenge. Also, he needed to make sure that you weren’t set on sabotaging the relationship from jump, just to get the shoes. 

Jin (8:47 PM): I’ve thought about it, and here are my rules. Okay? We’re dating, so act like we’re dating but be discreet and don’t tell anyone and win on purpose. You (8:47 PM): That’s…so professional of you. Jin (8:48 PM): There you go again… You (8:49 PM): Shut up. You (8:50 PM): Anyways, here’s what I came up with: [Link to spreadsheet]  No telling anyone that we’re dating during these 2 weeks ~Saturday Dec 9 - Saturday Dec 23 Must go on 6 dates, 3 each week, with at least one date each week right after work, where you drive us  Have to attend two meetings together with other coworkers and successfully get away with the following: Disappear at the same time from desk/office during peak work hours for 30 minutes, twice during week 2 without anyone growing suspicious of the two of us missing Jin (9:02 PM): I appreciate your attention to detail, but also, you kind of take the fun out of the dating part. You (9:04 PM): You want to make sure I don’t cheat, and I want to make sure you don’t either. So, in order to test this accurately, we need to be able to measure it. By having set actions and goals we have to get away with, I think this is the best way to determine who wins in the end. Jin (9:05 PM): We could just act like a couple and wing it, but I guess knowing what to do with you is easier. You like being touched…noted. You (9:06 PM): Don’t make it awkward. Jin (9:06 PM): You didn’t mention kissing at work? Are we doing that? I think it would be fun. Jin (9:08 PM): Or does that come with the sneaking away? Should I pick up some listerine for the office? Any preference on condom brands or flavors? You: {Left on Read}

📈📈📈📈📈

Sitting at your desk, your eyes drag to the bottom corner of the computer screen to the email alert. Clicking it open, you see a message from Seokjin with weekly reports he’s run for your review. As you begin to open the spreadsheets he’s sent, you notice he’s changed his signoff at the end of the email.

Your Handsome Lover, Jin-Oppa

You hold back a gag, unable to believe the audacity he has, before it turns into a giggle. He really has no shame, you think, deciding two can play this game. Hitting reply, you send him a thank you, making sure to sign off in like.

Leaning back in your chair, you stretch before diving into the work he sent. 

Time seems to fly by, with the sun filtering into your office slowly moving across the carpet. You don’t notice, so engrossed in your work as you are, that Seokjin is leaning in your doorway, eyes watching you with a soft smile. 

“Ready to go, baby girl?”

Seokjin’s voice startles you, breaking your concentration. Your boss has changed out of his business suit slacks, a crisp pair of blue jeans tailored to fit his body now gracing his frame as his button down disappears into the waistband. The sleeves are rolled up halfway, revealing his expensive watch and veins as he flexes involuntarily. 

“Seokjin!” you gasp out, clutching a hand to your chest above your now racing heart.

“Now, is that any way to address your boyfriend who is about to take you out on a date?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Fake boyfriend, you mean,” you correct, gathering your purse onto your shoulder as you lock your computer before looking down to arrange the printed reports neatly.

“Real enough for the next two weeks, baby girl,” he counters, voice significantly closer. 

You feel the warmth of his body pressing into your backside as he envelops you in a hug, his face nuzzling into your neck as if seeking comfort. Freezing, your body betrays you as a burst of butterflies flit around your tummy and your neck cranes as if to accommodate his face, waiting for him to plant a kiss on your sweet spot. 

Instead he steps back, and it takes you a few seconds to regain your composure.

“I’m gonna regret signing my email as that, aren’t I?” you question, following him out of your office.

“Hmm, it's possible, but more likely, you’ll prefer it to Kicks and ask me not to stop calling you that.”

“Doubt it,” you mumble, though your conscious thought is looking at you skeptically. It’s been one day, and your body is already taking this fake relationship as reality.

“We’ll see,” is his only response, though after the two of you step into the elevator, he reaches for your hand.

“You’re quite the touchy-feely boyfriend, Jinnie-Oppa,” you tease.

“Because I know it’s what you like. I know you’ve identified set things you’d like to do to test the relationship, but I’m more of a go with the flow guy, y’know? And I have a reputation to protect. Fake or not, I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

Again, the traitorous butterflies appear, and they remain long after he’s dropped your hand to walk across the lobby to the parking garage entrance, looking mischievously around the lot as he opens the passenger side door to let you into his car. 

Date number one surprises you, as you’re expecting Seokjin to resort to either typical chaebol actions, like a fancy reservation at an upscale restaurant, or be lazy with his choice, and take you to something owned by his family. Seokjin did neither, instead he surprises you with a fun outing. He swings by your place, telling you to change into something casual and you’re glad you did. Zzang Games, located in Hongdae, is a multi-floor entertainment center, perfect for competing or pairing up for various arcade and VR games. 

For a Monday evening it's not too busy, mostly tourists and students on the claw machines and engaged in battle royales, and you think it’s pretty smart of Seokjin to choose this. Your coworkers most likely would not be out at a place like this on a weekday, so you’re less likely to get caught, and as a date, it’s definitely the type of relaxed setting that would allow two people to learn more about each other. If that was something the two of you were interested in, which it’s not. Right? 

Later that night in bed, you fall asleep thinking about how much fun you had with Seokjin and that maybe he’s right about workplace romances, but if he is, then you can kiss those Jimmy Choo shoes goodbye...

Seokjin wasn’t lying to you when he said he would be the best boyfriend you’ve ever experienced in the two weeks assigned to dating, and it’s only been three days. Yesterday, you received a delivery of flowers discreetly signed from Your Lover. Several of the women that share your floor asked about the blooming perennials, curious to know who they came from. You just said it was a new thing, much like the vase full of buds that was blossoming; not yet a relationship, but still something nonetheless. 

Today, just before you head to the Tuesday weekly meeting, Seokjin comes into your office to deliver you a cold French vanilla latte with whipped cream and a caramel drizzle across the fluffy topping. 

“Well isn’t this sweet,” you say with a thank you, instantly mouthing at the whipped cream. You watch as Seokjin’s eyes follow your lips as you try and get the excess cream off the sides of your mouth. Turning away from you, he moves to leave. You follow, ready for the meeting, when Seokjin stops abruptly, turning on his heel in the doorway. 

“What—”

His plush lips land on yours, a hand moving to the back of your hair to hold you in place as he gently bites your bottom lip before pulling away from the unexpected kiss.

“You missed a spot, Kicks, didn’t want anyone else coming to your rescue in the meeting.”

He steps away, resuming his path to the conference room as you blink feverishly at his departing silhouette. It takes you a few seconds to gather your wits and hustle after him, heels click-clacking on the tile as you hurry to catch up.

📈📈📈📈📈

Meetings lately suck. 

Ever since you, or, the finance department, has been put on the hot seat, it feels like everyone is looking to you to fix things that aren’t your area of concern. It doesn’t help that you and Seokjin have made this stupid bet to see who is right about workplace romances. All so you can have those coveted Jimmy Choos. 

“Thank you Taehyung, I’m sure the board will be able to vote on your proposal after reviewing the presentation.” The CEO’s voice snaps you back from where you’re daydreaming, face still warm and mouth tingling from your fake lover’s amorous encounter earlier. Absent-mindedly you run a finger across your bottom lip, not really listening to a word any of your coworkers have to say. 

“Next up will be an update on the finances—we’ll take a quick five minute break before we resume.”

You jump when you feel a hand on your thigh, a soft pressure as Seokjin turns your chair gently towards himself.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you want me to present this time,” he says lowly into your ear. You feel the breath of his words caress your neck, a shiver rolling down your spine at how close he is. His hand then moves to your back, and to anyone in the room watching, it would look like two work partners preparing for their presentation. 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Maybe because you look a little…flustered. Don’t worry baby girl, this presentation’s on me.” Seokjin grasps your hand under the conference room table, and you don’t really hear anything else he says as he brings his other hand to the tablet in front of you, clicking a few things so he can connect to the projector now that Taehyung has packed away his materials. “That was much longer than five seconds, I think I’m killing it.”

“Huh?” you question, confused.

He releases your fingers from where they were intertwined with his own, raising his hand to wiggle his five left fingers in your face with a smug look. 

“Just sit here and look pretty, darling,” he jokes, but his eyes look serious when he swoops his hand over your ear, tucking away a wayward strand before standing to present, “and can you click through the slides for me?” he says this part louder, drawing everyone’s attention to you. 

You can only nod, bashful and confused, and curse Kim Seokjin for being so goddamn charming, and so damn good at this game. 

📈📈📈📈📈

Seokjin’s POV

Date number two the following day is your idea—a nice tandem bike ride along the Han River before sunset. The temperature is chilly, but you make sure to warn Seokjin in advance so he meets you wearing a warm fluffy white jacket, a matching beanie, and gloves. He’s thankful you let him know to dress warmly.

Seoul winters have 5 AM sunrises and near 8 PM sunsets, so the view along the river is gorgeous, a clear Wednesday with barely a cloud in the sky. Seokjin can’t believe he actually works up a sweat during the leisurely ride, but with the sun still out and no clouds to offer any shade, when the two of you finish your trip, he strips off his jacket for a breather. 

He notices the way you eye his arms as they flex to grab his wallet from his back pocket so he can pay for your hot cocoa. It makes him feel good about himself, and his chances with you once this competition is over. What better way to make you fall for him and realize dating him is feasible, than by a trial run—as he likes to call it. 

Seokjin is aware that you play by the rules, not just in work, where it’s expected, but in your day to day too, in relationships with coworkers and how you move through life. The only time he’s witnessed you behave in a way that goes against this is when you splurge to buy heels online. He feels like it was pure luck that he was able to finesse his trial run relationship with you, but he knows it is the data that you need to prove it’s worth the risk—he’s worth the risk. 

When you shiver from the breeze coming off of the river, he wastes no time layering his fluffy jacket over your thin, long-sleeve athletic shirt, loving the way the jacket dwarfs you despite your heeled boots—yes, even when riding bikes, you make sure to have that slight lift that makes your ass sit ever so nicely in your jeans. 

He enjoys the way you snuggle yourself deeper into his jacket, subtly inhaling the scent of his cologne and it’s just another confirmation to himself that maybe you could really turn this into something real with him, that maybe you like him back. He played it safe with the first date, and your choice for today is cute, but he doesn’t have much time to prove to you that he’s serious. He knows that the next date is the time for him to turn up the heat.

📈📈📈📈📈

Reader POV

The atmosphere in the restaurant for date three is so far removed from the arcade of date one, you don’t really know how to behave. You use the term restaurant loosely, seeing as you are currently floating along the Han River. A candlelight dinner on a ferry at sunset was not what you expected from Seokjin. Looking around the room, you can’t help but notice how many of the tables are empty in comparison to what your friends have told you about this experience, but you’re sure Seokjin pulled some strings. There’s maybe seven other couples in the room. He confirms as much as he pulls your attention back to him. 

“I bought out as many of the tables as I could to ensure your utmost devotion during our date, and still you can’t keep your eyes on me,” he jokes, bringing his wine glass to his lips, “but some people had already purchased tables and I couldn’t get them to refund it.” Your eyes follow the burgundy liquid as it slips between his lips, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows it down. You tug at the form-fitting maroon dress you have on, one that Seokjin presented to you before leaving work to make the reservation.

“I was just wondering why it was so empty, but now that I know, I promise to focus on you.” You hate how much you don’t hate how the words sound; Seokjin is a sight to behold as the sun begins its descent below the horizon, and you find that you don’t want to look away from him. It’s a bit confusing for you because there’s a small part of your brain that doesn’t want to like this. He’s your boss, for one, and two, your competitive side is thinking about the fact that you want those shoes. Plus, you also like to be right. Though if you’re being honest with yourself—

“All women do is lie,” Seokjin says, paired with a firm settling down of the glass goblet onto the tablecloth. “Promising to focus on me, and then daydreaming seconds after—unless you were daydreaming about me?”

“Yes, daydreaming about strangling you for being so insufferable.”

“Didn’t know you were also into asphyxiation, but I will add that to the list alongside ‘likes to be touched’.”

You want to wipe the smirk off of his face. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that this is Kim Seokjin, and no matter how he seems to fool you for a moment, give it a few minutes and he will say something to reign it back in. 

“So, I know we’re going to run this relationship for two weeks, and I thought about the perfect way to figure out if we pass or fail.”

You nod as you take a bite of the filet mignon on the plate before you. “Oh, do tell,” you implore, chewing delicately so as to not appear impolite. 

“Be my date to Namjoon’s Christmas party.” Seokjin’s nonchalant tone throws you for a loop and you miss the connection between the two things.

“Be your—excuse me,” you cough, clearing your throat from when you inhaled unceremoniously. “You want me to be your date to the CEO’s Christmas party?”

“Yeah, it makes perfect sense. When we arrive, everyone will either act surprised seeing us as a couple, or think that I invited you as my friendly, plus-one coworker. Either way, we can use that as the true test to see if we passed or failed.” Seokjin grins proudly, waiting for you to applaud his brilliance.  

“Hmm, it does seem like a good idea.” You look back at your food, hiding the fact that you were confused earlier. “I’m assuming the people invited will be people who attend meetings with us or work with us regularly?”

“Obviously, I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll be your date.”

“Great. I’ll forward you the e-vite later tonight so you can prepare yourself for it, I know how you are.”

You smile softly at him; despite his teasing tone, you know that the act of sending you the details is one that shows he knows you and cares to some degree about your comfortability. He’s seen you freak out a few times over lack of information before meetings or events that you’ve had to attend for the company. You wonder what other things he’s filed away about you to make sure that you’re taken care of, so to speak. Maybe this is also who Kim Seokjin is. His duality is throwing you for a loop.

Before you can think of a way to safely broach that topic, the live band playing shifts to a song you recognize, but without lyrics, you can’t name it just yet. 

“I love this song!” Seokjin surprises you when he comments, proffering a hand to you. “Do you want to dance?”

In the fading sunlight, his eyes sparkle with a joyful playfulness that you can’t say no to. Taking his hand, you allow him to pull you towards an opening, thanks to the lack of patrons on board, and gathering you into his arms, the two of you sway to the beat. 

You are acutely aware that his hands are placed right at the small of your back, pinkies bordering the curve of your ass as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

“Relax a little, can you look like you actually enjoy dancing with me?”

“Sorry, I—” 

“Shhh, just dance with me—you look beautiful by the way.” He smiles down at you, and you comply, wrapping your hands to rest casually around his neck to loosen your stiff posture as you try to hide the heat rising to your face.

As the music plays, you hear Seokjin humming gently along to it before he begins to sing lightly. “Say my name and everything just stops, I don’t want you like a best friend…Only bought this dress so you can take it off, take it off, ah ah ah~.”

Hearing the lyrics jogs your memory of the song, and you remember how much of a fan Seokjin is of Taylor Swift. Until the words catch up to your brain and you look up at him scandalized.

“Only bought me this dress so you can take it off?” you ask, trying to step away from him, but his hold on you is firm. 

“Kicks, everything that I buy you from here on out, I would love to remove from your body, except for the heels.” He doesn’t look at you, playfully swirling you around in a circle with a smile, but there’s a sincerity in his tone that you can’t shake. You bite your lip, unable to stop the racing thoughts as he takes one of your hands from where you’ve moved them to his chest, spinning you in a circle on the dance floor as the band continues to play. 

He pulls you close again, this time with your back to his front and keeps hold of your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“Are you having fun yet?” he asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“I’m dancing with you, aren’t I?” you deflect, and he chuckles knowingly.

Seokjin resumes his gentle singing, swaying with you as other guests begin to dance and waiters clear the finished entrees so they could prepare for dessert. As the song finally ends, you walk back to your seat, sitting gingerly to combat the pooling between your thighs from the friction dancing must have caused. Rubbing up against someone is just a part of dancing. What else could explain the slight bulge you felt nestled between your cheeks as you swayed in Seokjin’s arms? 

The small crystal bowls of strawberry gelato are a nice distraction to cool down the heat you feel around your throat and cheeks, but watching the way that Seokjin’s lips wrap around the metal spoon to gently suck at the ice cream, smoothing down the scoop of pink dessert sitting on it, well, it doesn’t help as much as one would hope. 

When you’ve both finished and the boat begins to dock back into the wharf, Seokjin comes to your side, offering you a hand to help you stand. You grasp it, but as you stand, the ferry lurches on the water, and you stumble into his chest. The motion causes him to fall backwards taking you with him as he attempts to protect you on the fall. 

As the boat settles, you look up, seeing that you’ve landed side-saddle style on Seokjin’s lap, his legs bent to the side opposite of where yours are. Your hands clutch onto his shoulders still, your faces much closer than you’ve ever found them to be. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, arms tightening from where they’re wrapped around your waist.

“Mmhmm,” you nod, the act bringing your lips closer to his with every upward movement.

“You sure, Kicks?” he breathes out even quieter, face inching ever so closer. 

“Never better,” you answer, a rush of air caressing his lips, so close you feel the blowback of it, and an urge like never before comes over you to just lean in and taste the strawberry off his lips.

And just as his lips begin to touch yours, a flurry of activity from the ship's stewards pulls you apart as they check on your wellbeing. They help you climb off of Seokjin’s lap, apologizing profusely for the boat’s severe rocking and offering coupons on drinks and food and a free trip to save from receiving a bad review. You let Seokjin negotiate with the workers, focusing solely on your breathing. You do this as you leave, as Seokjin drives you home, and as you stand in the steaming shower attempting to scrub yourself of his touch, of the feelings they elicit from you, and what it might mean.

But there’s nothing that you can do to stop the images that infiltrate your thoughts as you dream of a satin dress falling to the floor, strawberry lips that cover every inch of your skin, and your high-heel-clad feet resting on his shoulders.     

Work the next day is weird to say the least, as you expected to be bombarded with Seokjin smirking and strutting around the office, but when you arrive, he’s nowhere to be seen. In order to keep your mind free of all of the newly budding feelings, you throw yourself into your work, following up on the financial reports for the week so far to track the flow of money within the company and see if the different measures you’ve put into place have made a difference in the end-of-fiscal-year outcome and if the company is in the black once more. 

The day seems to go by fast, with Seokjin never appearing in the finance department at all, and no encounters with him when you left to grab food with NaBi, Khaity, Khaity’s best friend Leah, and Hana. You expected to see him round the corner and enter your office at least once you were back from lunch, but he doesn’t appear, and instead of feeling relief at avoiding what you feel will be an awkward encounter, you feel nervous and worried about where he’s at. 

After spinning aimlessly in your desk chair, having read the same line in the report seven times, you reach for your phone, finger hovering over his name. Would an email be more appropriate? It was working hours and you’ve never really called him outside of work like this before. You decide to call anyway, brain already coming up with a way to write it off as part of the challenge much like he did the whip cream kiss, when he answers. 

“Hello?” he answers, a little breathless, and you pause, confused at the sounds you hear in the background. “Kicks?” 

You’re about to answer when you hear a feminine voice from the background, asking who Kicks is.

“Give me a moment,” you hear him say, followed by the background sounds fading a bit as he steps away from wherever he’s located. He says your name, but you’re still stuck on what you’ve heard. “Baby girl?” he tries, and it works, breaking you from your green-eyed stupor.

“I’m here,” you respond, voice lowered as you try and navigate the feeling in your chest. 

“Is something wrong? You’re worrying me.”

“No, nothing’s wrong, I just haven’t seen you at work today—”

“Oh, I had a dentist appointment this morning, but Namjoon sent me to meet with some fiduciary specialists and can you believe they don’t have elevators in their building? I had to walk four flights of stairs and I was so worried something was wrong and I was going to have to run back down those four flights to get to you—”

Your peals of laughter halt his rambling, and he stays quiet as you taper off into light giggles. 

“No, everything is fine, sorry to interrupt your meeting.”

“No, I forgot to put it into the calendar so you would know, I’m sorry if I worried you. This woman who looks old enough to be my grandma is glaring at me though, so let me finish this meeting and then I’ll fill you in on what I learned tomorrow.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m coming now—okay, babe, be good, bye!”

The phone clicks off and you set it down, utterly confused at the ease with which he called you a pet name; it wasn’t done teasingly, but more like a slip, as if he always referred to you as such and was comfortable with doing so. But even more pressing is the way you feel, no longer anxious at Seojin’s unknown whereabouts, no longer jealous of him being around another woman sounding suspiciously out of breath, and tummy all aflutter at him calling you babe.

📈📈📈📈📈

“Friday, fighting!” NaBi calls out as you both head towards the entrance; her weekly Friday morning greeting makes you wave at her. 

“I hope you have a great day, NaBi!” you say as you both make your way towards the elevator. You expect to see NaBi press the button to Namjoon’s floor, since she is essentially his personal assistant and secretary, but instead she chooses to go to a different floor, IT. 

“Same to you, I’m sure it will be a great Friday. Any more horrid meetings?” she asks, privy to the situation thanks to her role within the company.

“No, thank god. We’re back to our weekly Tuesday meetings, and luckily, since they know Jin and I are working on the finances, they’ve left me alone for most of them.”

“That’s good, I hope Jin isn’t working you to the bone,” NaBi quips, and you have to stop yourself from sharing your latest thoughts and feelings. 

“No, no, everything is good there, he’s actually been really attentive and helpful with trying to fix all of the wanton spending, so hopefully there’s no more vile meetings with the crusty old board members.”

As the doors slide open to the IT department, NaBi steps out, a large smile on her face as she looks towards a specific open door.

“When are you going to tell him how you feel?” you ask pointedly, nodding towards a certain muscle bunny’s office before the elevator has a chance to close. 

“When you wear sneakers to work!” she laughs out, waving you off.

“Never!”

📈📈📈📈📈

The weekend seems to go by quickly because you’re still working remotely on financial reports in your pajamas, so despite the turmoil you feel about everything, it gets set to the back burner. You remember late on Sunday that it’s once again your turn to plan the date for the following day, and so while you may not wear sneakers ever to the office or even tandem bike riding in winter, you will rock the heck out of the blue, red and tan bowling shoes when your competitive side strikes. And after such a romantic, sexually charged date, you want to try and put some space between you and Seokjin once again. 

Your pep talk to yourself on the way to work Monday morning consists of you reminding yourself that this isn’t real. 

“Seokjin’s unserious, you know he’s not capable of real emotions.” Your face looks back at you from the reflection in the window on the bus. “The date meant nothing. He’s just playing with you because he can. He wants you to let your guard down and forget the true game is afoot.” The man behind you on the bus looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind talking to yourself and you pretend you’re talking to someone on the phone. “You are in this to prove to Seokjin that dating at work is risky because people always find out, and thus win a pair of heels. Nothing more.” 

But if what you told yourself this morning is the case, why do you want to sit and watch Seokjin run his fingers through his hair as he combs it out of his face? Why do you want to stare into his coffee-colored eyes as he talks to you about different techniques for bowling? You could care less about bowling skills, but watching the words come from between his pink pillow lips makes it mesmerizing. 

“Do you want bumpers?” he asks as he finishes lacing his shoes.

You shoot him a glare before answering, “No, I do not need bumpers, I’m decent at bowling, thank you very much.”

You aren’t lying either, you have pretty good hand eye coordination, but it has been several years since you’ve last gone bowling. You can typically score in the range of seventies to the hundreds, not a gutterball queen like he assumes. You hope to dazzle him with your abilities. 

“Okay, I think I’m going to use the 12-pound ball, what size do you need? A 7 or 8-pound?”  

“An 8-pound please! I sometimes use a 7 or a 9-pound when I need speed or to slow down for precision, but I’ll start with the 8 for now.” You stand and stretch, missing Seokjin’s eyes rove your figure.

“Got it boss, I’ll deliver you an 8-pounder.” Jin chuckles to himself as he grabs the two large spheres from the rack.

“Why does it sound like you’re planning to give me a newborn?”

“My mother and father would be happy to have a grandchild, now that I think about it,” Seokjin winks as he places the bowling balls into the ball return. 

“Kim Seokjin, sometimes I really just want to bang yo—”

“Me against the wall outside in the alleyway? I won’t lie, that would be a good way to get my parents started on a grandchild.”

“Ugh! Please just bowl, it’s your turn.” You sit down and cross your arms, irritated with his quips. He’s the most unserious person you have ever met, and yet he still manages to push the boundaries of unserious levels daily. 

Despite this, you are enjoying yourself as date four progresses, with game one ending with you beating Seokjin, and game two causing a tie to declare who is the best at bowling. Game three starts off the same, but halfway through, now pleasantly pliant with several soju shots, you both are giggling a lot more, being playful with trick shots. 

“Okay, okay, that was surprisingly accurate,” you laugh as Seokjin rights himself from where he had bent over to throw the bowling ball between his legs. You step up with your bowling ball, poised to be dramatic like you’ve seen people do on TV.

“Always the look of surprise from you, I am actually quite talented at many things, especially when it comes to using my hands.” His eyebrows wiggle suggestively, but with his face flushed red from being upside down and from alcohol, it is more comical than sexy. 

The burst of laughter that follows throws you off balance. One second, you are gearing up to do a ‘professional’ throw, left hand bracing the ball you have held in your right, three fingers balancing the weight, but when your hand swings back, he says his lewd saying and instead of releasing the ball when your arm pendulums forward, you keep hold of it. The weight of the ball still attached to your fingers propels you forward and you lose your footing on the overly slick flooring of the lane. 

“Oh fuck!” You can’t help the curse escaping your mouth as you try your best to maintain your footing, but your ankle rolls as your body topples onto the resin-coated wood floor. You cry out from the twinge it causes, a shooting pain traveling along the side of your leg.

Seokjin laughs, loud squeaks that resemble windshield wipers that have seen better days, and while you are nearly in tears from the stinging ache, you start to laugh too as you hold your ankle slightly above the ground.

“Jin, stop laughing, it hurts!” you giggle through the tears, and the bouncing from the laughter jostles your ankle and you let out a whimper. He’s next to you instantly, still chuckling as he tries to soothe you. 

“I’m sorry, but that was the funniest thing I’ve seen all week,” he wipes away a tear and then touches your leg gingerly. “Does it hurt here?”

You nod. “Yes, it’s similar to shin splints, but on the side.”

“Can you stand?” Seokjin offers his hands to you and you pull yourself up onto one leg, too afraid to put any weight on the hurt ankle. Your bowling ball lay forgotten as you hobble to the nearest seat. “I meant like can you put weight on it, but it appears you can’t…We only had three frames left anyways, let’s call it a night for bowling.” He looks at you with sympathy. “Let me take you to the hospital.”

“No, I promise, it’ll be fine, just some ice and I’ll prop it up on a few pillows.”

Seokjin puts away the bowling balls and cleans up a little while you slowly loosen the laces. You transition one boot back on, and he comes back over to you in time to help gently remove the other bowling shoe off your foot. 

“Let me return our shoes and then I’ll help you to the car.”

You stretch as far as you can reach to gather your purse and test the mobility of your ankle, hoping to avoid being carried bridal style out. It still hurts and looks a little swollen, but you’ve done this a few times as an adolescent so you already know how to treat it. Seokjin squats down in front of you, giving you his back so that you can climb on and he can koala-carry you out of the building. 

Hesitantly you wrap your arms around his neck, realizing that this position is much worse than if he had chosen the bridal style. Now you know exactly how well he fits between your thighs, how firmly his hands wrap under your thighs. There’s no way to distance yourself from him as you physically have to rely on him to transport you to the car, your breasts pressing into his back.

Surprisingly, Seokjin doesn’t make any jokes as he carts you out, just asks after your pain and comfort levels. Once he’s parked outside of your building, he helps you to your door. You draw the line there though, not letting him come in.

“We have work tomorrow, I’m just going to take some painkillers, take a quick shower, grab some ice and pillows, then sleep. Promise, I won’t do anything strenuous.” 

“Fine. On one condition though. I’m picking you up to take you to work the rest of the week until it heals.” Seokjin looks at you with eyes that showcase his finality, and you agree so you can escape him. 

“I’ll meet you downstairs at 7:30 sharp,” you acquiesce, “and Seokjin…thank you.”

“Anything for you, I told you, as your boyfriend these two weeks, I’ll be the best boyfriend—as long as you let me.” 

Before you can protest, he leans down and kisses your forehead gently, and he disappears from sight before you’ve moved to shut the door. 

Seokjin’s POV

Watching as you walk gingerly into the Tuesday morning meeting, Seokjin shakes his head at you remembering your refusal this morning to change into flats or sneakers, so Seokjin only agrees to allow you to continue to work if you sport an ankle wrap under your heeled boot. He stops at Daiso before parking, but because of the time, he lets you out with a promise to put it on once you get to your office. 

“Why are you limping so badly? The bandage should be giving you more support than that, is it on correctly?” Seokjin asks as you walk to your seat next to him. He stands to pull out the wheely chair for you, one hand on your back to guide you into the seat and the other holding your hand as you lower yourself to get comfortable. 

“I haven’t put it on yet,” you reply, avoiding eye contact. He returns to his chair sending you a searing stare full of judgment.

“Kicks, the longer it takes your ankle to heal, the longer I can’t enjoy seeing you in heels. You know I love how you look in heels.” His hand grazes along the top of your thigh, but you clamp a hand on top of his to stop the movement. 

“I knew you had an ulterior motive!” 

He chuckles, but it fades away as you seem to take advantage of the situation and thread your fingers through his. He fully expects that after ten seconds you’ll pull away and go back to taking notes on what the CEO says as he talks to the group. Except that you don’t, instead settling into the meeting, holding hands with Seokjin for far longer than necessary, not that he’s complaining. 

Once the meeting adjourns, you disappear back to your office faster than Seokjin thought possible with an injured ankle, but he takes advantage of the time to shoot an email to Namjoon and Yoongi before going to gather some items. It’s not long before he appears in your doorway. 

“Come with me, and bring your wrap,” he demands, though his tone is not harsh. He can’t be mad at you, not when you’ve provided him with the perfect opportunity.

With a sigh, you hobble over to the door and follow as he leads you around a few corners until you’re alone in one of the many break rooms in the building. This one in particular is similar to the library where the holiday party was held, but smaller, with a conference table in the middle of the sun-filled room.

Seokjin leads you to the table, and preemptively picks you up by your underarms to place you on the table before you can resist. He makes sure to be gentle as he lifts your leg to the table, undoing your boot so he can check your ankle out. You’re wearing loose slacks today, which makes it easier for him to access your sprain. Delicately, he smoothes the pant leg up your leg, his hand warming as it skates across your skin. 

He swears he hears an intake of breath from the touch, a reflection of the sparks he’s feeling, but instead of calling attention to it, afraid of scaring you off, he reaches behind you, retrieving the bag of ice wrapped in paper towels. Settling onto the tabletop, he puts your foot in his lap.

“This might be a little cool, but we need to treat the swelling.”

The moment feels oddly intimate, and it’s Seokjin’s turn now to duck his head and avoid eye contact. He adjusts the ice pack onto your ankle, one hand cupping your heel as the other keeps the pack in place on top of your foot. Your foot struggles a little at the frosty feeling, and Seokjin has to maintain his breathing as you unknowingly wiggle atop his crotch. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, settling your hands behind you on the table as you get comfortable. 

“It’s expected,” he returns, and the smile you give him only adds to the hope blossoming in his chest. 

The next twenty minutes are spent talking about everything and nothing, and the last ten he spends tickling the bottom of your foot as he helps slide the bandage onto your ankle, all so he can hear your laugh and have your hands on him as you try to get him to leave your foot alone. 

“I don’t want to kick you in the face, but if you touch the bottom of my foot again, I can’t say I—Jin!” you squeal, wriggling backwards in an attempt to escape, but he just follows you, his body covering yours as you lean back breathlessly on the table. 

“Yes?” His smile is teasing as his arm extends to protect the back of your head as he presses closer to you.

“Please, I can’t take it! I’m too ticklish!”

“But that’s exactly why I can’t stop, Kicks. You’re too cute when you’re flustered, under me like this.”

He sees the exact moment that you notice the precarious position he’s put you in, with Seokjin leaning between your knees, chest to chest as he cradles your head. He didn’t know that he would love the feel of your body under him this much, almost as much as when you were on his lap on the boat. He can smell one of the fragrances you carry, whether it be your shampoo, a perfume, or just a natural scent, he already knows if he can’t make this thing with you real, he’s going to miss it.   

“Jin,” he watches you bring your hands to his chest, expecting you to push him away, but to his surprise—and probably your own he suspects—you don’t. He stares at you, drinking in all of the things he’s grown to love about your features over time: the way your eyebrows furrow in thought, lips slightly parted as breaths escape them, and gorgeous eyes wide in wonder as you look back at him. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

This close up, he watches as your face changes slightly, lips closing to a shy smile, cheek more prominent and your eyes glittering at the compliment. If you plan to ask him later about the kiss, he’ll tell you it was him if it keeps you from getting scared off, but he sees you move first, clear as day in the reflecting sun. You lift your head out of his hand where it’s cradled, pressing your lips to his and he lets out a tiny groan to rival the throaty moan you release as his tongue seeks entry into your mouth. 

He’s both happy and sad at the position he has you in, because while it allows him to be here like this, kissing you, it also doesn’t allow for much more and is becoming quite uncomfortable as he attempts to keep his weight from crushing you. His tongue plays with yours for a few more moments before he tapers off, slowing the progression of the kiss to playful pecks. 

Once Seokjin is satisfied that you are giggly and pliant, he clambers off of you, reaching both hands out to help pull you back into a seated position on the table.

“So,” he starts, wanting to test and see how he’s doing in terms of winning you over, “am I the best short-term boyfriend you’ve ever had?” He doesn’t notice the way your eyes dim slightly hearing the phrase ‘short-term’, as he’s busying himself with adjusting the ankle bandage before helping you put back on your boot.

Jin is excited to hear you softly reply, “Yes, Jin, you are.”

If he’s a little more aware, maybe he’d be able to pick up on more than just your words, and realize a lot more about how you’re feeling concerning the situation you both are in.   

📈📈📈📈📈

Reader POV

It’s killing you to not be able to talk to your work friends about what’s going on. Seeing as you missed out on lunch yesterday due to your shenanigans with Seokjin, the girls ask a few questions. 

“I got our favorite shrimp tempura sushi to split with you, but I ended up eating it all myself,” Leah pouts at you as you join them today.

A lie easily rolls off your tongue. “Oh, last minute reports were emailed to me, with the deadline coming up thanks to the holidays, they’re running them daily now to look for any sign up upward movement on the graphs.”

They buy it, easily shutting down any romance rumors they could have generated. You realize that you could have told some of the truth, that Seokjin was babying you because you sprained your ankle, and maybe help you win the shoes that started this insanity. Instead, with that little fib, it appears you’ve worked against your best interest, planting no seeds to make the others think something’s going on romantically between you and Seokjin. 

You’ve been so busy with work and secretly dating, you forgot that your girls would be the best chance you have to prove that you are right and Seokjin is wrong. 

Seriously, I could have told most of the truth, and that would have been enough to have the girls ask why Seokjin was taking care of me. I would deny anything they accused, because I can’t break my own rules, but planting that seed would allow them to at least wonder. They might then, as women do, embark on a hunt for the truth. Then when it came time at the party to ask if anyone had found out, they would be the ones to stand up and say yes! But I’m a little too good at this, you say, forehead wrinkled in disdain at yourself, exactly what Seokjin must be banking on to win this thing.

“Stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles and then you’ll be single forever!” Hana jokes, and you laugh listlessly.

Maybe it’s time you call someone you can talk to about everything going on. 

📈📈📈📈📈

“Grandma, you don’t understand, he’s unserious on his best days, insufferable on his worst, and…” you pause, adjusting your leg where you have it propped up on a small chair you stole from an empty office. You plan to leave in a few minutes so you can go home and get ready for your date with Seokjin, but wanted to rest your ankle briefly before walking to the bus stop. It doesn’t hurt as much now, but you want to make sure it heals up well to avoid any weakening later.

She hums knowingly in your ear. “Let me guess, he’s handsome, rich, and doesn’t appreciate his status in life.”

“Yes! Exactly, he lives with an all play and no work attitude—”

“And you want him to be your boyfriend,” she tacks on, effectively shutting you down.

“Grandma!”

“What? You called me for some real talk, right?”

You whine, and she laughs, her musical giggle making you miss her.

“Sweetie, listen. I’ve known you your whole life, so I know you pretty well. You like things that are orderly and neat, that fit well into your life. But that’s not much of a fun life. And it’s not what we hoped for you when we sent you off to Seoul.” You hear her sigh, and remain quiet, knowing she’s about to impart something that will stay with you. “It sounds like this Jin guy is exactly the kind of man you need in your life. He’s realized one of the best things about life that most of us don’t realize until it’s too late: Life is not so serious that we need to live a life with regrets. Yes, he has moments where maybe he should behave with a little more…sincerity, but overall, it sounds like you do that enough between the two of you.”

You nod, biting your lip as you take in her words. “Maybe.”

“You’ve been working so hard on your schooling and then your career, and you’ve made it so far! Overcome every academic and career goal thrown at you. But that’s only part of who you are. I think it’s nice that this young man is so attuned to you, that he’s challenging you in areas like love and life.”

“Who said anything about love? We’ve only been seeing each other for a week and a half!”

“No one said you were in love, sweetie, but your defensiveness means you like him a little more than you thought.”

You tuck your phone between your ear and your shoulder, logging into your desktop so you can check some emails while you chat. Multi-tasking always helps you when you need to open up—focusing on a menial task helps cover that feeling in your chest when you discuss said feelings.

“I mean, if I’m honest with myself, yes. He’s surprised me in ways I wasn’t expecting. And I know that two people can kiss when dating, but, I don’t know…is he kissing me because he’s taking advantage of whatever this is, or is he kissing me because he likes me and wants it to be more? I’m confused about what happens next, you know?”

“My smart girl, have you thought about asking him?”

“I can’t just ask him! He’s my boss!” You wish she understood that times are not the same as when she was young.

“Yes, your boss who you are already dating!”

“But not for real! Not after Saturday!”

“What’s happening Saturday?” she questions, and you stall, not wanting to hear what she’s going to say when you tell her the full truth.

“Well, we’ve been going on dates because…we made a bet. To see if workplace romances can be kept secret or not. It started last week and we have set rules so neither of us cheats, and this Saturday is the CEO’s holiday party, which Jin invited me to as his date, and we will see if any of our work friends noticed we were dating or not.”

She laughs heartily, and you hate that she seems so wise about this when you feel so clueless.

“Oh, I needed that laugh. You’re telling me that your boss—a hot, rich executive—made a bet with you to see if workplace romances can work, he’s kissed you a few times and takes you out on dates, drives you to work now that you’ve sprained your ankle, asked you to be his date to another exec’s party, and you’re still confused about where the two of you stand?”

Hearing her put it into this perspective bolsters your confidence a bit. It isn’t like you haven’t already thought about this same formula, but your grandma is missing one term from this equation, and it's your feelings. Your feelings are clouding your ability to act on this information. You tell her just as much.

“I’m just scared. I think that the risk of rejection is overpowering everything for me right now.”

“I know that risk is scary, you think I wasn’t scared when you moved away to attend school? But the reward? Seeing you excel in your career has been so lovely to witness. I’m so proud of you. I just want you to have someone to take care of you when I’m not here anymore.”

You want to fight her on this, but you don’t want to discount her emotions. “I know, and while I’d be fine having you take care of me forever, I think it would only be fair to let you pass the heavy lifting onto someone else.”

“And by the sounds of it, Jin has a nice set of shoulders for that.”

You’re about to answer her when a knock at your door startles you.

“Hold on, Grandma,” you say before raising your voice. “Come in!”

The topic of conversation steps into your office, shutting the door behind him. “Hey, I’m so sorry to do this, but we have to push our date tonight to tomorrow.”

“Oh? Is everything okay?” you question, taking in the way his face is pinched, grumpy.

“Yeah, I mean, no one’s dying or anything, but my dad just sent me an email, summoning me to meet with him about a potential investor.”

“Wouldn’t this typically be Soobin’s job?” you point out. Choi Soobin, the investor relations director for JinHit, typically would meet to discuss potential investors first before looping Seokjin in as CEO.

“Yes, but you know my father…”

“I’m sorry, bab—um, b-but, it’s okay, we can move it to Thursday.” You stumble over the words, trying to cover up the slip of tongue.

“You’re amazing, you know that? I’m so sorry to do this.”

“No, I get it. You want to prove to your father you got this, and rightfully so. You’ve done amazing helping me with everything, even though you have so much on your plate already.”

“You know good and well that you, Soobin, and the others take on a lot of the responsibilities, I just oversee it. It’s been nice to actually get my hands dirty with work, use my degree.” Seokjin’s phone chimes. After a roll of his eyes, he apologizes again. “Duty calls. I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” With that last remark and a wink, he leaves your office. You can hear laughter coming from your phone, forgotten in your hand. Bringing your grandma back to your ear, you speak before she can.

“Don’t even start, Grandma. I already know what you’re going to say.” You click on the email invite that Seokjin sent you about the holiday party at Namjoon’s, eyes re-reading the info. “So just help me think of a good present to get him for the party Saturday.”

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Seokjin’s POV 

Seokjin can’t help but to grin as he walks back to his office. You almost slipped up and called him babe. Or baby. Either way, he feels like he’s on cloud nine, and tomorrow will be the perfect moment to tell you just how he feels. He hates that he showed up less than a half hour before you get off to cancel, but he would rather give you the respect of doing it in person than over text. 

He scans the subject of the email he received while in your office, seeing it’s a reply to the email he sent yesterday, from Namjoon. Hustling back to his CFO office, he logs in and clicks through the various apps until the email pops up. 

Seokjin, Thank you for keeping me up to date with the financial reports, the numbers seem to be trending back up thanks to the mitigating efforts you and your department have done. Make sure to tell your better half thank you, since I know it was really all her. Also, your signature is a little…informal for work…I would love to know who is on the receiving end of the “Your Handsome Lover, Jin-Oppa” so I can congratulate her for tying you down. I would say bring her to the party, but I know you are already planning to bring YN, and it would be rude to swap them out last minute.  Kim Namjoon, MA, BSBA CEO of JinHit Conglomerate

“Ah fuck.” Jin smacks his head, realizing his mistake. This is exactly the kind of fuck up you said couples dating at work would make, but luckily, his best friend is clueless to the fact that the same person Seokjin plans to bring to the party is the same person who will hopefully end up taking him off the market. Will this lead Seokjin to lose on Saturday? He doesn’t care about losing the bet and having to buy the shoes—he can afford to buy you the same shoes every day for the rest of your life. 

No, what Seokjin is most worried about is that if he loses on Saturday, it will be the data that you need, the proof that will make you decide that you can’t be with Seokjin after this is all said and done. And he can’t have that. 

He begins typing out a reply, mostly to say that he agrees with Namjoon, that his email was informal and he was sorry for not paying attention, oh and of course he would make sure to introduce Namjoon to the woman one day, hopefully soon, and that yes, it would be quite rude to swap out dates last minute. 

It’s an hour later after he’s finished typing out this reply that he leaves work to cross town to meet with his father. Seokjin’s feeling a little sour about the fact that he had to cancel his plans with you and meet with his dad, especially since it’s not his job to do this part of the investment process, but thanks to Do Not Disturb while driving, he misses the message his father sends. 

Jin (5:15 PM): I’m leaving work now, I should be there in time for the meeting at 6:30. 아버지 (Father) (5:45 PM): The investors can’t make it today, which is lucky since you aren’t taking rush hour traffic into account. I will let you know when it has been rescheduled, and I will make sure you will be on time.  Jin (6:28 PM): [Request Pay from Kim Namjung ₩25,000 for gas]

Reader POV

By Thursday, your ankle is finally feeling back to normal but you don’t want to push it too much, so you put on your lowest heels. You figure this would be perfect with your cinch-waisted dress, held shut by the buttons running down the middle. Despite the chill as you head downstairs to wait for Seokjin, you are glad with your choice thanks to the appreciative look Seokjin gives your figure. His right hand rests along your thigh as he drives you to work, talking about the date he’s planned for the two of you tonight.

“I know it’s a little chilly out, so I figured we could go check out Seoul Sky tonight, and then eat afterwards. What do you think?”

“Wow, how am I supposed to top that? I’ve never been to the observatory, but it sounds amazing.”

“What kind of food do you want to eat? You seem to like most foods, based on what you eat for lunch, but what’s your favorite?”

You ponder his question for a bit, eyes roving around the car as you gather your thoughts. “Mmm…I guess my favorite is home cooking. I miss my grandma’s meals the most since I’ve been here.”

“Ahhh, home cooking always hits the spot. I used to cook a lot when I was younger. My father was always busy with work and my brother and I were left alone a lot. My mom scolded us once for bothering the staff too much for specific meals, so we decided to learn from them how to make the meals we enjoyed. In college, I would cook a lot for the fraternity and it became a hobby of mine. My brother actually is the head of Food Science for JinHit. He handles the cafeteria, catering for entertainment, as well as Nutrition for the idols employed.”

“Really? I’ve met him a few times to discuss finances for catering services and resources for nutrition programs! He’s really cool.”

“Don’t tell me my girlfriend secretly loves my brother and I have to duel him to the death for you.”

You burst into laughter, giggly peals filling the car as Seokjin just glances at you then looks back at the road. “No! He’s just cool and he feeds us, which is super important.”

“Okay,” Seokjin says as he pulls into his designated CFO  parking spot, “so the way to your heart is through shoes and food, got it.”

You climb out of the car before he can come around and open the door for you. “And don’t you forget it,” you tease, walking away from him. 

Your day goes well to start, with not too many taxing assignments with the weekend fast approaching. Tomorrow is the last day at work before the office is closed for a three day weekend. Christmas falls on Monday, and despite half of the company not celebrating religiously, it is a public holiday and enjoyed as a day off by all. With the work day coming to a close, you hear when the arrival of good news enters everyone’s inbox. 

“Did you see?” Soobin sticks his head into your propped open doorway, a large smile covering his face from cheek to cheek.

“Not yet, but it sounds like it’s worth celebrating!”

“It is!” His happiness is contagious. “Our gracious CEO gave us off until the 2nd of January! Since it would be a short work week anyways, he wanted everyone to be able to enjoy the holiday with family, whether they live in Seoul or Busan.”

“That’s amazing!”

“I’m off to find Yeonjun in IT, we might catch the train home together.” Soobin ducks his fluffy head out of the entryway and disappears down the hall with a loud whoop! as others continue their cheering. You smile softly to yourself as you check the email; your last minute idea to have the office closed for the holiday would save the company more than it would lose during this time. The company would be able to save on day-to-day expenditures of running a company, work that typically does not happen because of the distraction of the holiday will continue to not be done, therefore the tradeoff between having the building open for work but no work getting done would balance out, and employee morale will be greater upon returning and resuming work in the new year.

It was an idea you had thanks to your talk with your grandma. When you pointed out that Seokjin was all play no work, and unserious, she had mentioned that you needed some of that in your life. Why wouldn’t the rest of the workers in a large conglomerate also need that? You knew you weren’t the only person with a Type A personality in this building, who worked too hard and barely rewarded themselves with a vacation or fun. So a little forced vacation will do wonders all around, without a loss in sight.

Stretching your arms above your head, you finish the last of your auditing and save your report before locking your computer. You’re excited to experience Seoul Sky tonight, and not just because it is your first time experiencing it, but because who you will be with is worth the trip to such crazy heights.         

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Seokjin’s POV

“It’s incredible!” The view you are witnessing truly is, Seokjin can’t lie. It looks as if the city goes on forever, and the fiery rays cascade along the horizon in a beautiful show of combusting fragments of stardust.

“We made it just in time, and we will get to see the night sky too before we eat,” he says. “Let’s step a little closer, you’re missing some of the view.” He ushers you to step onto the glass floor, your low heels clicking weirdly on the thick glass. 

“Oh, Seokjin, it’s exhilarating!” 

“From here, you can see JinHit, it’s right there,” Seokjin leans into you, holding you tightly as if you might fall from so high up. He aligns your body so you have a better chance of seeing what he’s pointing to. 

“I see it! I bet it’s gorgeous at night.” 

“Mmm, yes, but maybe we should shut off the power to save money...”

You laugh at his joke, and he feels his heart flutter a little. You’ve changed towards him, and the view offers more than just all of the sights of Seoul—so many opportunities lay at the tip of his finger, still pointing at JinHit—the first one being you.

“Can you imagine how the air must be from up this high?”

He can’t bear to make a negative joke about the air quality in Seoul as he sees the way your irises seemingly reflect the setting sun, a small milky way of glittering solar systems he could get lost in.

“Yes, Kicks, I think it’s rather breathtaking...like you.”

You turn away from the sunset and he sees you catch his gaze trained in your direction, and it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. The view of Seoul at sunset from almost 1,821 feet disappears around you. You’re the only thing he can see, and he only hopes that you feel the same, or at least you are starting to feel the same about him as he does for you. 

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“When you told me about how you can cook, I didn’t know you meant that you would be cooking for me!” Sitting at the large island in Seokjin’s lofted penthouse apartment, you watch as he moves sveltely between the sink and the island stovetop, pans heated as he adds the ingredients he chopped and minced with you. 

“Ah, well I wanted it to be a surprise.” He looks great in his slacks, button-down sleeves rolled up with an apron around his neck and waist so he doesn’t stain the baby blue fabric. It is quite the surprise, and you tell him so.

“Homemade Japchae sounds amazing right now, are you sure there isn’t anything else I can do to help?”

“No, Kicks, you already prepped the vegetables and now it’s just time for you to relax and enjoy. Look around if you want.” Seokjin sets aside the stir fried vegetables as he adds the protein option to the pan, seasoning and cooking it until browned. You decide to give yourself a small tour, not venturing too far or into any closed doors. The penthouse is modern, with a lot of black furniture, grey accent pieces, and white walls. The glass walls are two stories, spanning the height of the lofted area as well, situated above the kitchen. You take a few steps up the stairs until you can see through the clear banister into what appears to be Seokjin’s bedroom, before returning to your seat. You’re much more comfortable there than exploring dangerous areas alone.

The two of you continue to talk about your lives outside of work as he cooks; you share more about your family and where you lived before Seoul, and him about his fraternity days and hobbies. Once the glass noodles were cooked in the Japchae sauce, and the protein and vegetables re-added, you move to sit comfortably on his couch, eating as you watch a popular K Drama on his large flatscreen. 

“I really enjoyed tonight, Jin.” You can’t describe in words how you feel, you just know you haven’t felt feelings like this towards Seokjin of this caliber before. Something has changed, but you don’t know whether it’s you or Seokjin, or both. He places his plate into the sink where you stand, washing dishes, then leans against the counter to watch you. “Since you did all of the heavy lifting, I’ll clean up.”

“You didn’t have to, you know. This is still a date.”

“Yes, but even in relationships, people go on dates and I’m sure that they still take turns with household chores and stuff.”

He hums in agreement, then disappears out of the kitchen. You finish washing, lay the dishes on the rack with the pans, and then turn around to make your way back to the living room. You find Seokjin lighting the last of the candles he’s placed around the room, a tray and two flutes of champagne on the low glass table near the dark colored couch.

“What’s all this?” you ask, voice low in astonishment and something else. The room is dim, but the candles provide enough light to see and the ambiance is much more romantic than anything you’ve previously shared with Seokjin.

You watch as Seokjin’s features flit through different emotions before answering you, and before you can question him more about it. “I, well a proper date should be more than just a home-cooked meal. I also have dessert for us, and wanted to celebrate a bit, too.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yes,” he pats the couch next to where he’s sat. “I saw the preliminary reports. I think we’re gonna clear it this fiscal year. All thanks to you.”

You cross the rest of the distance to sit next to him, still feeling timid in his home. You take the flute of bubbly gold with a shy smile, still not used to this treatment and praise.

“You worked hard too, Seokjin. We did it together.” Clinking your glasses together, the two of you down the Dom Perignon. As Seokjin sets down his glass, he reaches for one of the chocolate-covered strawberries set atop the tray.

“Try this, these are grown on my uncle's farm,” he shares, scooting closer to you on the couch so he can feed you the strawberry. You lean in, mouth watering at the aroma of the chocolate coating the fruit. With the first bite, an explosion of flavor erupts in your mouth, and you moan a little at how succulent it is. A trickle of the red juice rolls from the corner of your lip. Too busy savoring the flavor, Seokjin slowly swipes up your chin to gather the strawberry juice, bringing it to his lips to suck the flavor off. 

You watch as his tongue pushes through the part in his lips, the tip rolling backwards across his bottom lip as he brings his teeth to bite the plump, pink skin. The look in his eyes matches the candle flames and you’re positive yours reflect the same. Placing your hand onto his shoulder, you guide him back onto the couch so he can sit properly as you swing your leg over his thighs. Planted on his lap, it’s nothing to lean in, your mouth seeking him in a slow kiss, wet sounds filling the quiet as you press yourself into him harder, hips grinding down onto the tent pressing into your core. 

“Fuck,” Seokjin hisses when your mouth moves to his neck, biting gently to avoid leaving marks in visible spots. His hands grasp your ass, pulling you into him with a rocking rhythm with more force. His lips search to bring yours back to his, hands pulling at your dress. Once his hands breach the hem, you feel the warmth of his skin on your thighs, fingertips trailing up to the waistband of your panties.

He pulls back from the kiss, forehead resting against yours as you both try and catch your breath. “Do you want this?” he asks, fingers tugging gently at the lace.

“Yes,” you breathe out, not waiting for more words as you kiss him again, raising your hips to allow him to pull your panties down your thighs. You raise each knee off the couch, helping him until your bare skin meets his slacks. His fingers dip to your center, and you’re pleased at the sound he makes when he feels just how wet you are. You stay up on your knees as he explores, the subtle teasing around your clit only heightening the feeling you crave. 

When he presses two fingers into you, you keen, face pressing into his neck as his fingers scissor and glide, thumb pressing into your clit with each plunge. You rock your hips, seeking more friction and he gives in, using his palm as he sinks deeper inside of you, allowing you to take control of your pleasure. 

“You feel so tight, but you’re so wet,” he marvels after a particularly hard shudder, and you sit back, knees weak as he pulls his fingers free.

“Want you to feel me properly,” you pout as his tongue licks up the side of his finger before he sucks them both into his mouth. You clench around nothing, the action making you want him more. You finger the buttons on your dress, popping each open in secession. It’s your turn to reach for the waistband of his pants, eyes on his as you seek his consent. “Do you want this?”

“More than you know, baby.” You smile to yourself as you focus on the button and zipper on his slacks until his hands join yours to grip the edge of both his briefs and pants until he has them past his knees, hardened cock bouncy as it awaits you to take your rightful seat upon it. You gasp as your eyes take in the size of it being bigger than you expected; it explains the cockiness he exhibits in his day to day.

Spitting into your hand, you grip his member, thumb trailing down the pearlescent stickiness from the head. He breathes out a huff, the steely silk growing more solid with each stroke. 

“Don’t tease me, Kicks, I’ve waited a long time for this.”

Once again you rise onto your knees, inching closer to him with hands on his broad shoulders for balance. You can feel Seokjin lining up the head to your core, running it across your pussy several times to coat it with your essence. Dropping onto his thick length, he fills you to the point of stretching you out, toes curling from the press into your most sensitive parts. You don’t wait, enjoying the way that the stretch burns as it turns to pleasure, and you let loose in a way you haven’t before. 

It’s frenetic, the way each of your hands travel along each other's bodies, lips seeking and sucking into each other's skin, opening clothing for more points of contact, to bring you closer to each other than you’ve ever been. It doesn’t take long, riding him as you are, for the coil to build and snap inside you, crying out as you throw your head back. 

“That’s it, baby, let me feel you,” Seokjin coaches you through your climax, holding you as you shake in his arms. You mewl as he shifts, thighs lifting you both as he stands, cock still sheathed inside of you. He steps out of his discarded clothing and walks you to the stairs that lead to his loft. He’s impatient, pausing every few steps to press you into the wall and fuck himself up into you until he makes it to the landing of his bedroom. 

Getting you to the bed, he places you on your back at the edge, hands trailing up along your legs until he grips your ankles. Bringing them together in front of him, he rests your calves onto his shoulder before slow-grinding himself into you, your swollen lips suctioning him deeper as they mold to fit around him.

“Jin, fuck, you feel so good,” your voice a high pitch as you squirm. 

“Yeah, baby?” He’s breathless, hips picking up speed as you clench around him, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching show just how good he feels. He spreads your legs then, picking you up and placing you farther on the bed so he can join you, this time sans shirts. 

With a grunt, he pushes deep as his hands reach around and skillfully unhooks your bra. He slows his hip rolls as his lips toy with a freed nipple, tongue laving until it’s pert and he moves to the other to give the same treatment. He takes a hand, trailing it down the center of your body. His thumb presses into your clit, and he speeds up, pleading, “Cum with me, you can give me another one.”

You give him what he wants, his voice raspy with restraint is the thing that topples you over the edge, and his restraint is let go moments later when you squeeze him impossibly tight. The deep sounds that he lets out are loud, curses mingled with your name, not your nickname, but your real name, tumble from his lips as he releases into you, short pumps of his cock until he’s empty. He collapses his weight onto you, but it’s comforting, not crushing. You feel his arms wrap around you as he rolls onto his back, pulling you with him to cuddle your body into his chest. 

“I’ll clean us up in a minute, wanna enjoy this feeling.”

Seokjin closes his eyes, but you agree with him, you don’t want to move just yet, because the pleasure coursing through your veins feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and not just because of the sex—you’ve done that a few times. It’s because of the man whose arms you're in, but his light snores let you know it's too late in the night to tell him.

You wake long before your alarm, but less sticky than when you fell asleep, Seokjin keeping to his word. You feel his arm strewn over your middle, so you turn and take in his slumber-filled face. His hair flops onto the pillow, lips puckered slightly as quiet breaths escape him. Smiling at how peaceful he looks, you don’t want to leave just yet, not when the bed is so warm, and even in his sleep he wants to keep you close, but you have no clothes for work. You silently climb out of his bed, going to the bathroom to freshen up before getting dressed. You call for a KakaoTaxi, and once it arrives, you kiss Seokjin on the forehead before leaving. 

Once at home, you take the time to shower and get dressed for work, thinking about what you can do for the last date tonight. You know you want it to be special, because after the amazing night spent in Seokjin’s arms, him between your legs and splitting your walls…you’ve come to realize something significant. You like him. You like Kim Seokjin and you don’t want to stop being with him once tomorrow comes. 

Deciding to take a leap of faith, you channel your grandma’s advice and decide that tonight at dinner, you will confess your feelings to him. You’re pretty sure that he feels the same way, based on his words and actions last night when you both showed each other a whole new side. You send a text to Seokjin saying he doesn’t need to pick you up, that you’re heading to work early and you’ll see him later. 

He sends a quick reply of Be safe, beautiful. Can’t wait. Which is more than you expected from him so early in the morning but makes you feel giddy, solidifying your assumption of how he feels about you.

Once in your office, you utilize the extra time to search for a place to take Seokjin that’s worthy of hopefully becoming the place where you and he can become a ‘we’, but out of the limited places you contact, there’s no reservations available. You don’t have the sway to pull strings the way Seokjin could, but asking him or your coworkers for help would break one of the rules of your agreement. 

The sun shifts across your office, giving way to midday as you work with good old-fashioned paper, pen, and highlighters, but you haven’t seen him or his broad shoulders that you’re sure you left some marks on last night. Rolling your computer chair back from the desk, you lean back precariously as you take a much-needed deep stretch and vacate your seat. It’s a quick trip from the 48th to the 50th floor; you figure if Seokjin isn’t in his office near yours, he must be working in his C-Suite office upstairs. Unfortunately, when you peek your head into the room, the vast dark-oak desk is empty, his large Samsung monitor turned off when you venture farther in. 

With a sigh, you leave the office, nearly walking headfirst into Kim Namjoon. 

“Looking for Jin-hyung?” his low baritone questions. “He's at a meeting with his dad to discuss some financial stuff, he’s been emailing me all day asking to be rescued.”

“Oh, I wonder if he emailed me too. I’ve been reviewing printed reports all morning.”

“I made the mistake of answering him thinking he needed work-related info—nope! He just wanted to tell me about how he’s been craving the truffle pasta at Flavors.”

You laugh at this, unable to hold back the smile as you imagine how bored Seokjin must be to be emailing about food. You thank Namjoon and head back to your office, an idea of where to go now planted in your mind.

Everything is falling into place for tonight, and you send Seokjin an email before you leave at 5 PM, detailing the plan for your reservation at Flavors tonight at 7 PM. His response is full of excitement, shocked that you read his mind about his craving (thank you, Namjoon!), and that he’ll meet you there and you better not be late. 

Closing down your computer for the long holiday weekend per IT’s email, you gather your belongings and head home to get ready.

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Seokjin’s POV

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Seokjin tries to hide his grin from his father. 

“What are you smiling about?”

Seokjin takes a breath to keep from rolling his eyes and relaxes his face into a look of innocence. “Nothing,” he shrugs, mentally doing the math as he clambers into the car his father has chauffeuring them around. “Are we headed back to the office now? I have a few things I need to do tonight for Namjoon’s party tomorrow.” And a hot date waiting for me, he thinks.

“Not just yet, actually. I have one last meeting for us at Paradise City.”

Seokjin groans. “Father, it’s a holiday weekend, there’s nothing more we need to do today that we can’t do after Christmas weekend.”

“It won’t be long, Seokjin, we’re around the corner already. I swear your work ethic is piss-poor, sometimes I regret naming you my successor.”

It might not be a long trip from the hotel they just finished meeting at to Paradise City, but they were already over an hour away from where he should be meeting you in less than two. Irritated, Seokjin quietly tries to do the math for how long this meeting can be before he has to be on his way to you, but knowing his father, he worries about making it to you on time. 

As the car pulls to the front of the main entrance, Seokjin decides to message you, just a warning that he will be late due to his father’s overbearing and controlling tendencies. He exits the car first, standing to the side to type a quick message as his father follows him onto the pavement. 

“Put your phone away.”

When Seokjin ignores his demand, his father snatches his phone from his hands, pocketing the small device.

“Really, Father, you are being insufferable right now.” 

“And you, son, are being rude.” Seokjin’s dad leaves him to head into the bustling hotel and casino, and with his phone held hostage, he has no choice but to follow him inside. 

Once seated next to the thief at a four-top, Seokjin begs for his phone, but his father ignores him as he smiles at someone behind Seokjin’s head. 

“Lee Jaeyong-ssi!”

“Kim Namjung-ssi!” The man bows to the elder Kim before sitting in the seat next to Seokjin. Seokjin gapes in horror at his dad as he realizes what his father has roped him into when the 19-year-old daughter of the country’s largest GDP contributor walks around the table to sit across from Seokjin.

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Reader POV

You’re prompt, body electrified as you give your name for the reservation and are led to a quaint, black-marbled table. The only downfall to the seating arrangement of the restaurant is that larger group tables line the walls with comfortable grey booth seating, while the tables for couples fill the middle walkway. Smoothing the little black dress with baby doll straps, you sit in the chair pulled out for you.

You take in the romantically lit room as the Maître d' pours you a glass of red wine, leaving the expensive bottle in a wine chiller on a small stand next to the table. Checking your phone, there’s no reply message from Seokjin of his estimated arrival time, but you don’t worry too much, thinking he’s probably parking his car or nearby enough. It’s only minutes past the hour, so you shirk off the cropped, fur-lined jacket from your shoulders and drape it over the back of your chair. 

It’s fitting that the table is in the middle of the room, out in the open as if a reflection of where you want to take this relationship with Seokjin. You think you’re finally ready to admit to him what you realized last night and this morning.

7:17 PM. The Maître d' returns to ask if you would like to order. You tell him that you are still waiting for the other person to arrive, and give a little white lie that he’s just running late.

“What is the name of the other half of your party? I will make sure to bring him promptly when he arrives.” 

“Oh, it’s Kim Seokjin,” you reply shyly. His eyes widen minutely at your unintentional name drop, and that coupled with murmurs from the guests seated nearby, leaves you feeling a heat rising up your neck. He excuses himself, saying he will be back to check on you once your date arrives. 

7:47 PM. The looks of pity start to trickle into your view as you turn your head to look towards the door for the millionth time. The Maître d' has walked past to escort other patrons to tables, but he avoids coming over to you—you guess it’s because he doesn’t want to draw attention to the fact that you’re still alone, and he said he would be back only once Seokjin arrived. You appreciate his tactfulness, but you worry as you check your phone again for a message. 

8:17 PM. Your phone is held to your face, dial tone ringing in your ear but you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve called him. All of your text messages have gone unread, and inside you simmer with feelings of shame and embarrassment. Your phone (along with others in the vicinity) chimed with a notification from the WeVerse App, reporting a major headline. 

JinHit CFO Kim Seokjin Spotted with 19-year-old Samsung Heiress—And Their Fathers!

And in smaller font underneath: Marriage meeting? Should we expect wedding bells and a massive business union? The read more teases photos catching the quartet out at Paradise City.

A fool, you think, realizing Seokjin must’ve never planned to come. Paradise City is almost an hour and half by car at this time of night. I am a fool for even entertaining the thought of giving my heart to this man!  

Standing from the chair, you don’t bother hiding your emotions on your face as you grab your jacket and toss the cloth napkin onto the table before fleeing to the front to hail a taxi, waiting in the cold as unique snowflakes begin to fall from the sky with fluttery movements, before melting away a few moments after making contact with earthly items.  

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At home, you sit on the edge of your couch unclasping the delicate buckle on your Manolo Blahniks. Tonight’s fucked with your mind more than Seokjin has the entire time this deal was in place. What started as a way to win—a way to prove you were smarter than Seokjin, better at mitigating for the company, gain a pair of expensive shoes—is turning into a stock market crash of the worst proportions. 

Your grandma’s words float through your head and in this moment, you’re hit with a sudden clarity that this was never about a pair of expensive shoes. It was about letting yourself take a chance to live a little and be happy for once—hopeful that happiness with another person was within your reach—the heel you clutch in your hand, having slipped it off of your foot, sails through the air, hitting the off-white wall of your apartment. 

You wake, puffy-eyed and unexcited, thinking about how things will be weird tonight for the party at Namjoon’s place, because not only have you slept with Jin, he’s also shattered your heart into a million pieces. It’s not the first time the thought crosses your mind that he might have known he was going to be set up with a child (no offense to 19-year-olds, the age gap is ridiculous no matter how rich your daddy is) and chose to spend his last weeks of freedom stringing you along, choosing to finally sleep with you right before he was off the market.

You fell asleep easily, but your phone ringing repeatedly woke you up close to midnight. The screen was blinding, but you could see who was calling you and you decidedly ignored the call, silencing your phone. You were then unable to return to sleep until hints of sunlight peeked through the curtains, and the consequences of that are now reflecting in your mirror. 

This is just Jin being Jin, your mind says, when has he ever been serious about anything? He’s just flirty, and wanted to get his rocks off before robbing the cradle in sickness or in health. This is nothing new and he was just having fun with you. Going through the motions of your skincare routine, the feelings of disappointment and hurt are there, lingering in your chest with each breath, but you’ve decided to be tough. Your brain doing what it does best, trying to rationalize everything that isn’t a fact, blaming the way your emotions temporarily made you dumb. 

‘I should’ve known’ repeats like a mantra in your head no matter how you try to drown it out with music from your phone. You’ve always had an uncanny ability to be hopeful when you know you shouldn’t, because good things like this never work out. You just forgot that little fact, but last night is the perfect reminder. 

The thoughts settling in help as you go through the motions: toner onto a cotton pad wiped along your face, moisturizer gently massaged into your skin. Once you’ve finished with your makeup, it’s as if you move on autopilot, your fingers deft as they put the final touches wrapping the gift for Seokjin you finalized after work yesterday. Your logical brain reminds you that this party is nothing more than coworkers hanging out, a chance to put the bet—and your fake relationship—to rest, and making sure to bring a gift like the invite said is your way to show Seokjin that he didn’t get to you. He might win the bet, he might’ve had you wallowing last night, but he won’t continue to win power over your emotions. 

You reread the last message he sent before sending him a text as you slip into the persona needed to survive tonight.

Jin (2:04 AM) - Please, baby, just…let me know you’re okay. I can explain everything. You (1:14 PM) - I’m getting ready to go to the party, what time will you be here?

Your phone lights up as an incoming call flashes across your screen, but you ignore it, letting your ringtone play until he hangs up. 

Jin (1:15 PM) - Can I come now? You (1:20 PM) - I’m not ready yet and have some things to do beforehand, so if you can just let me know what time to expect you, I can make sure I’m ready when you get here.

You set your phone down, watching the bubbles pop up and disappear, indicating that he’s typing, but it still takes him ten minutes to send five words.

Jin (1:30 PM) - I’ll be there at 7:30.

📈📈📈📈📈

The drive to Namjoon’s party goes well for you, if you say so yourself. Not ready to deal with being alone with Seokjin, you make sure to call one of your friends from back home, spending the entire trip with your phone glued to your ear, rudely ignoring Seokjin’s attempts to talk to you until he gives up.

Walking into Namjoon’s place, the distinct smell of a fresh Christmas Tree wafts into your senses as his fiance greets you at the door. She’s all cute and small with a pretty smile as she bounces through the home to lead you and Seokjin to the living room. You greet the others who have already arrived, Yoongi and his girlfriend Leah, and Hoseok and his fiance, YuRim. A table near the Christmas Tree holds the gifts, so you walk over to deposit your gift bag, Seokjin following with a bag of his own to set down. 

The layout of the room is an open concept, and Namjoon stands in the kitchen with oven mitts on. It’s a little strange to see your boss in such a state, matching fleece Christmas onesies with Khaity, oven mitts covering his hands, and a stressed look on his face as he stares at the small timer on the counter.

“Oh, honey, let me take the cookies out, okay? Come sit down with our guests.” Khaity rises onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek as she slips the mitts off his hands before gently nudging him towards the sitting area.

Another knock rings out, and soon Namjoon leads Jungkook in with NaBi. You aren’t sure whether she came with Jungkook or arrived at the same time and was invited by Namjoon, seeing as she is his secretary, but the way they smile at each other softens the wall that you built up against love. Even if you and Seokjin were a failed attempt, you hope that those two blind co-workers might figure it out. 

The macadamia nut cookies are first out of the oven, Khaity plating and placing them on the table between the couches where everyone is gathered. The last to arrive, Taehyung with Hana and Jimin, trickle in a few minutes later complaining that the cookies were all gone. 

“We have chocolate chip ones coming out next, you can have first dibs, okay?” Namjoon appeases before his face turns into confusion. “Wait, where’s your plus one?” 

“I ended things with Ji-Soo.”

Everyone shows various levels of shock, and despite avoiding him since arriving, you can’t help but to meet Seokjin’s eye with a raised brow. 

“Really? Why?” NaBi asks, truly invested in their drama.

“She’s just…a little brainless. Nice tits, but let’s be honest, we live in the plastic surgery capital of the world.”

“Well, I guess we know who gets to wear the ‘Ho, Ho, Ho’ santa hat tonight,” Leah jokes, tossing the furry red cap to Jimin.

“Gladly! But I had to block her number, she’s been blowing up my phone the past few days, and it’s gotten to be too much.”

“Probably for the best, right? You start your last semester next month,” Taehyung reminds his best friend. 

“We’ll see, I might need to find a hot tutor in the class, maybe I can convince her to do my homework.”

“Do your homework, or do you?” Jungkook asks deadpan, and everyone laughs, the room full of mirth and holiday cheer.

“Why not both?” you second, sending the room into another round of giggles, and despite the awkwardness with Seokjin, you feel yourself relax into the persona you’ve adjusted into place to get through the night. You can do this, you remind yourself.

And you do a great job meshing with the group, hanging out with your coworkers and helping Khaity in the kitchen with some finger foods and more cookies to avoid Seokjin until the inevitable moment arrives. Gift exchange.

“All right, I’m going to get more wine in the kitchen,” Jimin stands, stretching his arms high as he steps over the others to escape the lovey dovey atmosphere as the couples exchange gifts. 

Seokjin calls to him to wait, and everyone watches as he grabs the gift bag off of the table. Holding one of the dainty handles, his free hand reaches in and reveals a decent sized wine bottle in his grasp. “Can you take this with you? I got it as a contribution to the party.” 

Jimin busies himself across the room with an open bottle of wine and his glass and you wish you could join him instead of engaging in the most awkward event since everything imploded last night. You pass the gift over to Seokjin who takes it with a little bit of shock, as if he’s just realized what type of party he came to and what he was supposed to do—and how he just fucked up.

Leah opens her gift first, a lavender velvet box containing a necklace. A small slip of paper flutters out, and she reads it before sharing the information. “A 100% pure sterling silver necklace with amethyst stones spelling a morse code message.”

“What’s the message?” Hana asks, leaning to look at the glittering stones.

“Badass Bitch.”

Taehyung laughs the loudest, almost choking on the chocolate chip cookie he was chewing.

“So, Seokjin, wanna tell us about the latest WeVerse gossip?” NaBi teases from the floor where she sits cross legged, cheeky grin as she rocks side to side next to Jungkook. Her hands fidget with the small charm on the bracelet Jungkook gifted her that you’re too far away to see clearly.

“Oh fuck, what a nightmare. My father basically kidnapped me. Took my phone and everything so I couldn’t contact anyone and let them know I was effectively unable to leave or even signal for help.”

“You wanted to be rescued? I thought dudes liked young, hot, rich heiresses. Your own Paris Hilton,” YuMi asks, and you can see her question holds a little…bite to it. You instantly like her.

“Hell yeah, I did not want to be there. I actually had plans that I was really excited for, but my father…he kind of ruined my night.”

“But the hot chick made it better, right? You’re gonna marry into the richest company, right?” Jimin shouts from the kitchen, cheeks ruddy from the wine. You, on the other hand, are over the topic of conversation. Moving towards the kitchen, you decide to follow Jimin’s lead and drown your sorrows.

“No way, she’s like eleven years younger than me. She’s barely old enough to drink, just finished Secondary, and we have nothing in common. Besides, I’m not attracted to her.” You can feel Seokjin’s eyes piercing into your skull, but you refuse to give him what he wants. 

Namjoon’s gift from Khaity interrupts Seokjin’s next words, as he drops the small box holding an egg vibrator and turns red as everyone begins to laugh at his reaction. Except for you. Your eyes finally look at Seokjin, challenging him to finish his thoughts from earlier as the group settles back into silence as the last few finish opening their gifts. Yoongi finally frees his gift from the box Leah wrapped it in; he holds up a black leather Valentino backpack to show everyone.

“I…actually—I’m dating someone else.”

The group instantly grows loud again, voices trying to speak over one another as various tones of disbelief, shock, and animosity filter through their accusations. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because, I wanted to make sure it didn’t interfere with work first, I didn’t need HR getting involved with my love life.”

“Oh?” Namjoon focuses on this tidbit of information, ears perked for more. “Do I need to worry? It’s not Ji-Soo, right?”

You sputter into your wine, but luckily the males in the living room are cackling at the accusation. 

“NO! I draw the line at sloppy thirds, thank you very much.” You try to slink away, the balcony looking like a great hiding spot when Seokjin says your name and everyone turns to you. “I brought my girlfriend and wanted to tell you all tonight.”

The group goes crazy once again at this turn of events, with Leah being the voice of reason once everyone settles. “Seokjin, I promise you, we never would have guessed…you didn’t even trade gifts with her, so color me a little shocked!”

You know Leah means to call Seokjin out and make him feel shitty, but the reminder also makes you feel a little despondent. Even if Seokjin had no intentions of marrying that girl, his current actions speak volumes. He couldn’t even be bothered to get you a gift; Kim Seokjin was not actually interested in you. 

As the group continues to pester Seokjin about how everything played out last night since he’s dating you, you take advantage of their deviated attention and head for the balcony to escape for some fresh air. You don’t really pay attention to the group behind you, but you can see shadowy movements as people get up and begin to filter out for the evening, a few of the girls coming to the balcony door to wish you a happy holiday break, their muffled voices saying jolly goodbyes.

You struggle to return their holiday spirit, and how can you, when you think about how while you’ve lost the real bet, you won the experience of having Seokjin as your boyfriend. This time with him has been…better than you ever expected. Living life with a little more color, risk, and fun, but now that the bet is over, you not only lost the shoes, but you’ve lost the taste of a different life, a fun life, with Seokjin by your side. Especially if his father demands that he marry that…child.

The sound of the glass door sliding open is quiet, but you hear it despite not turning to look. You can tell from the spicy scent of bourbon & vanilla that it’s Seokjin.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks by way of greeting, and from the corner of your eye you see him fidgeting with a wrapped box.

“I’m used to it.”

He hums, and you sense he wants to say more. A few moments later you are proved right.

“Thank you, for the gift. It, uh…means a lot, coming from you.”

“No problem.”

He huffs, and you can’t tell if he’s annoyed at your responses or if he’s annoyed at himself.

“Look. I’m sorry.” Seokjin’s voice is sincere, and you cave for a moment, meeting his toffee eyes. “I know that I royally fucked up last night, but I meant what I said earlier. I didn’t know and I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be with you. I tried to text you, but my father—he’s a dick, you know?” His following laugh is empty of humor. “I hope that you’ll forgive me, Kicks. Holiday spirit and all, if you feel the same way that I feel…fuck—I don’t even know what to say.”

Seokjin hands the box he’s holding to you, stepping closer. “I know according to our friends, I won, but last night…it definitely violated the rules. So while I most likely would’ve won…I know in my heart I didn’t…but I think you had fun with me these two weeks, right? It…doesn’t have to end here, you know? I think the one thing I really want to win…is you.”

His gaze is too intense, too scary and full of the hope you stuffed way down, so you focus on the gift in your hands. Pulling at the open edge of the wrapping paper, you unravel the gift wrap to reveal a marbled cream box with gold letters across the top. Your breath grows shaky as cynicism sneaks into your chest, only to be replaced with astonishment. The Saeda 100 Unicorn Printed Satin Pumps with Crystal Embellishment lay in the box, sparkling in the light filtering through the balcony windows.

“Jin,” you try to speak, but all you can say is his name.

“You deserve these, and not just because I lost on a technicality. You deserve these because you are just as magical as these fucking shoes are. You challenge me, push me to be better, and help me along the way. You believe in me more than my own father. You just,” he sighs your name softly, taking the shoes from your grasp and setting them on the outdoor table so he can hold your hands, “you see me. All of me. And if I remember correctly, you weren’t opposed to what you saw, might have even liked it.”

His light teasing, alluding to that night, has your body warming despite the December chill.

“Do you mean it?” You hate that you have to ask, but you need to know it’s real. Not just you reading into something because of false hope clouding your judgment.

“God, you are so brilliant and yet, so dense.”

Seokjin closes the remaining space between your mouths, plush lips firm as they show you how much he meant every word.

“I want to be with you. No bets, no rules, no strings. Just you.”

📈📈📈📈📈

Seokjin’s POV

The drive back to Seokjin’s place is fast; neither of you can keep your hands off of each other and he refuses to slow at yellow lights in fear that he’ll combust if he doesn’t get you naked…

The moment he has you standing in his lofted bedroom, he pauses just to take you in. Seokjin swears he never thought he could get so lucky—he always thought his fate would be similar to Hoseok’s arranged marriage, though that turned out well in the end. But someone like you? He never saw it coming.

Shrugging his shirt off of his shoulders, he lets it fall quietly to the floor, stepping closer to you. His hands feel way too hot when he places them to your cheeks, but if he’s supposed to die from a burning desire, well fuck, he guesses there isn’t a better way to go. He’s falling hard for you, and as he ducks his head to meet your lips, he lets his hands move to undress you. 

Seokjin doesn’t understand how you can be so soft, so warm, so inviting; everything about you envelops him until he’s consumed by you. Leaving you only in your underwear, he uses his hands to cup behind your thighs and lift you, carrying you to the bed.

“You look like an angel.”

Seokjin’s sheets are black, and with your white matching bra and panty set stark against the sheets, he’s in awe of you. He wants to savor you. He wants to defile you. Slowly, so slowly that you whine at him, he trails his lips along your clavicle, fingers lightly brushing your exposed sides. He pauses every so often to lave at your skin, supple beneath his tongue, before his dexterous fingers slide the straps to your bra down each arm. A quick tug frees your breasts, and his kisses continue to taunt and tease, circling but never reaching the pebbled nipple despite the arch to your back.

“Please Jin,” you beg, fingers fisting into his hair. He just chuckles at your neediness, your pleading words only adding to the pressure tenting in his pants. Trailing kisses lower down your stomach, his tongue traces the edge of your panties until he bites at the edge, making you squirm from his teeth. 

He loves that he gets to have you like this; wants you like this always, pliant and happy beneath him. Settling himself lower, his chest between your thighs, Seokjin begins to mouth at your covered core, tongue searching for the slit between your lips where your clit waits, probably throbbing for him. 

The sounds you make are pornographic, egging him on more. Wrapping his arms under your thighs, he curls his bicep so that his fingers can reach the edge of your panties. Pulling them aside, he pours his energy into leaving the sloppiest kisses around your clit and lips, strong arms not allowing you any room to pull away from the pleasure he’s delivering. Not that you’re trying to; your hands have a tight grip on his hair so you can roll your hips for maximum pleasure. 

Tonguing at your leaking core, he flicks along your opening, reaching inside you before alternating to flick your clit. He wraps his lips around it and sucks, the pressure building as you cry out for more. Like a siren's call, he can’t deny you, so he surrenders two fingers to your pulsing walls, plunging them inside rapidly as you pant, moans slipping from your lips until you cry out his name. 

He laps at you lazily as you ride your high, and when you pull back from over-stimulation, he pulls himself up along your body, flopping down to lay next to you where he can gaze upon you. You, his beautiful…girlfriend? Did you establish that? He ponders it for a minute until you call his attention. 

“Fuck, Jin…You’re a demon.”

“I’m your demon,” he responds, looking for an opening to broach the thoughts on his mind.

“Only mine, right?” 

He can hear the way your voice trembles as you ask, and he wants to kiss away any lingering doubts in your mind.

“Only yours. You’re my girlfriend, exclusively. If I’m honest, you have been since you agreed to my bet. It was only ever you.”  

“Good,” you say, and he jumps when your hand rests atop his aching cock only two layers between your skin and his.

You eye his zipper before looking back at him, eyes low and simmering with heated desire. “Can I?”

Seokjin moves quickly to shed his remaining clothing, eager to have you in a way he’s only dreamt about. You laugh at his silliness, and while he was exaggerating a little to make you laugh, part of him really feels this way. Heart-racing and giddy, because of you. 

You kneel onto the carpeted ground between his legs, waiting for him to lower himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He leaves his feet planted on the floor as he strokes himself, weeping with pre-cum that aids him in sliding his palm across his silky skin.

You trade out his hand for your own, delicate touches to show how much you cherish him before you take him fully into your mouth. He can’t look away, leaning back on one hand while the other strokes your head lightly, eyes on your face as your lips work up and down his shaft, tongue tickling his frenulum. Seokjin shivers with each pass. Your mouth is so warm, wet and dripping each time you choke a little on his cock, and your eyes look so pretty lined with unshed tears. 

Fuck, Seokjin thinks he could fall in love with you fast, if you continue to look at him like that, with eyes wide as you deep throat his cock until your nose is tickled by the hair of his happy trail. Moaning as your throat convulses around his throbbing tip, light swallows squeezing the head. He almost says it when you pull off of him with a pop, just to take him deep again and add your hand to cup his balls as your dripping spit coats them to make for an easy slide through your fingers as you roll them in your palm. 

Seokjin knows his own sounds are not very manly but he doesn’t care. He wants you to know how good you make him feel, and his breathy groans are a little higher than his normal talking voice but if anything when he lets out a sound it seems to invigorate you more and—shit—“I’m gonna cum, fuck, baby—” spills from his mouth and instead of popping off him and letting him cover your beautiful tits, you hold yourself closer to him until Seokjin’s sighing out your name as he falls back onto the bed, his eyes screwed shut as fireworks shoot through his veins. 

📈📈📈📈📈

Reader POV

Returning to work after a week off is always tough; having to adjust your alarms to wake up on time, no more lazing away in bed watching Netflix or reading a new Best Seller you were gifted. No breakfast in bed after being Seokjin’s breakfast in bed—no time when you’ve overslept your alarm after a late night on Facetime with your boyfriend.

Seokjin’s out at his family’s vacation home, has been just for the weekend, where he told his parents about you and successfully avoided the marriage plans his dad attempted to trap him in. Once he gets back, there’s plans to have dinner with them—apparently his mom is excited to meet you. 

Seokjin’s entrusted his car to you while he’s been gone, saying it’s because the oil and gas shouldn’t sit and build gunk in the engine, but you have a feeling it’s because he thinks it’s sexy when you drive. And you love how the car smells like him, like bergamot and spicy vanilla—a warm hug until he returns to you.

Parking in his designated spot, you enjoy the perks of dating the CFO as you ride the elevator straight from the parking garage to your floor. It’s easy to settle back into your work routine, checking emails and reviewing reports until NaBi pops in on her way to grab food, reminding you of the time. 

“Overworking already? I thought dating the CFO meant you could relax a little.”

You laugh at NaBi’s teasing, shoulder bumping her lightly. She presses the call button for the elevator to go down to the cafe. “I can relax a little. I just miss him, so it’s easier to focus on work until he gets—Ahhhhh!” You’re happily surprised when you see a slightly tanned Seokjin appear when the elevator doors open. The other workers hanging around the Property Acquisition cubicles startle and look over, but you don’t care. 

You greet him excitedly, kissing him right there for everyone to see. Openly showing him affection, where before you would have shied away, you can feel Seokjin is receptive to this as he pulls you in closer. 

“I got us lunch,” he says between quick pecks before releasing you, and you realize he’s holding a tied plastic bag with styrofoam food trays.

“Sorry, NaBi!” 

She eyes you as if to say, ‘bitch, you lying’, but her smile shows she’s not mad at you. You have a feeling this is the perfect excuse for her to have lunch with a certain IT coworker…

Following Seokjin to his office, you hold his free hand with both of yours. “I missed you,” you muse, and he chuckles at the sappy look you give him. 

“I was only gone for the weekend,” he says with a wink as he leads you to his massive desk, “but I missed you too, so I thought I would surprise you with lunch. I’m glad I did, I get to see this version of you that I’ve always known was there.” 

His words have you furrowing your brow, tilting your head in question. 

“You know, my girlfriend, who I’m able to be goofy with, but who still maintains the same work ethic and drive that I love, just with heart eyes only for me.”

“Ew, why are you being so cheesy?” His words make your heart flutter, so of course you have to wrinkle your nose at how soft he’s making you feel. 

“Because, you know, I kind of like you. A lot.”

Seokjin gestures to the corner of his desk, and you notice that the photo frame you purchased him for Christmas sits there, ‘World’s Best Boss’ engraved in gold with a purple frame surrounding a picture of the two of you taken on the candlelit dinner cruise. The card, where you poured out some of your most heartfelt thoughts about Seokjin and how much you believe in him, lay open under the clear, protective placemat on his desk along with the photos of his fraternity days, his mom, and other notes from Namjoon, Jungkook, and Yoongi.

You feel an overwhelming emotion fill your chest, so you lean in and kiss him, unable to contain it.

“I like you a lot too, but honestly, you’re lucky to have me. Your lover, your friend, your partner in crime…in sexy ass heels.”

Seokjin laughs with his whole chest as he sees you’ve got on the shoes he gifted you, and you thank your lucky stars for whatever brought the man in front of you into your life to help you avoid the red.

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2019-2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

#jin x reader #jin smut #jin fluff #jin angst #jin au #jin writings #jin fic #jin fanfiction #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #clubzerooclock #bangtanwhq #btsafterdarknet #bangtantheatrenet #thebtswritersclub #bts imagines #bts #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts smut #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #hisunshiine writings #ceo bts

[necroromantics]

🧺 — Laundry And Taxes

chapter 14. // (masterlist)

(AN: SORRY For the lack of updates, life has been very hectic lately and I haven't been too confident in my writing/story-telling skills so I have been slacking fr. I can't say Ill be posting regularly again, but I AM NOT abandoning the fic. L&T will get its ending eventually, thanks for sticking around 🫡 Enjoy)

The afternoon sun beamed down as a crowd of people swerved around the dramatic scene which had been playing out in the midst of the bustling winter market. The girl, who Toby knew as Nina Hopkins, collapsed into Natalie’s arms, nearly sobbing about how much she had missed them.

“It’s so good to see you two are alive!” Nina spoke out, clinging to Natalie’s body, which had tensed up like a nervous cat.

“You’re causing a scene,” Toby muttered lowly, glancing at the people who were giving strange looks as they passed by the teens.

“Let her do her thing, Toby,” Natalie scolded quietly, patting the girl on the back with an awkward fondness.

Toby shuffled in his place uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his sweater pocket as he waited for the girls to be done with their heartfelt reconnection, secretly hoping to himself that Nina wouldn’t have any tears left for him. The boy looked over the sea of people rushing by, and then down, to see a little boy clinging to Nina’s side. He looked to be about 9 years old, with neat brown hair, and he quietly glanced around with a subtle sort of embarrassment.

“Who the fuck are you?” Toby spoke out at the child, catching his attention, and Nina’s, who glared at the older boy as she slapped his arm.

“That’s my little brother, you jerk.”

“Oh, so that's why he looks like that.”

The group of eccentric teens pushed through the market as they exchanged casual conversation, splitting off from the crowd in the snowy streets of the market, and made their way into the Bulldog Tavern. The atmosphere was a relaxed contrast to the midday busyness of the town outside, and there was no one in the empty tavern but the four youths who sat themselves down around a table. The overhead lights draped over the room, a soft golden glow, shining off of the wooden floorings and bottles of alcohol sitting untouched on the shelf behind the bar. It smelt like rye whiskey and firewood, and only the bubblegum-pitched sound of Nina’s voice rang throughout the room.

She explained that she had found herself in the new world with her back pressed against the same bed she had slept in when she was a teenage girl, in mid-October. Confined by the same poster-filled walls she had once torn down, to escape into the arms of a man who didn't care if she lived or died, in another world. When she found herself back in her mother's house, Nina had come to the understanding that even after she ran away, even after all the atrocities she had seen and done, she hadn't lived a life any different from the one she had lived as a 16 year old girl. She still tied her hair back with ribbons, and she still smudged her mascara. She still wanted to find Jeff, and she still wanted to be loved.

The scars that once etched itself out from the corners of her mouth had washed away, alongside the chemical burns that previously littered her body. Nina rubbed her hand over her arm, a melancholic smile painted onto her teenaged face. She looked softer, healthier, than Toby remembered. The girl radiated the same type of glow as rave lights; flashing, headache-inducing.

Nina explained that as soon as she made an ounce of sense of the world she woke up in, she began to obsessively search for answers.

“So what about Jeff?” Toby blurted out, asking the question Natalie dreaded to ask. Nina blinked for a moment, a layer of uncomfortable silence dancing around the bar, then she awkwardly laughed to herself.

“Oh, yeah, I’m totally over him. I did a ton of digging but couldn't find anything on him, so I don't know if he even exists here. It’s whatever.”

“Well that's a relief. We’re all better off without him here anyways,” Toby said as Nina’s painted nails twiddled with the ends of her hair, which had been tied up with a purple ribbon. He crossed his arms over his chest in irritation as Natalie nudged him to shut his mouth, and leaned into the conversation.

“So what's your plan now?”

“Oh my god, I don't even really have a plan. I just had to get away from my mom and stepdad, and crazy enough, I found out where Clocky stayed, so I took Chris and ended up here.”

The little boy sat silently beside his older sister, looking around at the desolate bar, trying not to think too much about the strange things she had been discussing with the two others who were sitting across the round, walnut-wood table. Nina glanced over at her little brother, placing her cheek on the palm of her hand, as Toby leaned over towards Natalie, and whispered to the girl about how she's too easy to find, which earned him another rough elbow into his side.

“I was actually going to ask if we could, like, stay with you guys for a bit? Just until I get a job!” Nina squeezed her hand closed, and anticipation buried itself onto her sun-browned cheeks, and into her bright eyes. She sounded desperate, maybe a bit hopeful, as she pleaded to her two old friends.

“No.” Toby quickly shut down, before being brushed off by the girl next to him.

“You can stay with us, but with a few conditions.”

Natalie crossed her slender arms atop the table, laying down the rules of their stay as the older boy sulked, sinking angrily into his seat. The conditions were that the siblings both had to enroll in school, help around the house, and Nina had to actively look for a job. All of which, to Toby’s dismay, were ones the eccentric girl across from them agreed to with a wide smile on her face.

The February frost mingled on the worn, decaying front porch step of the small farmhouse, and only the sound of ragged sneakers and winter boots stomping off excess snow spread out over the quiet, white winter fields as the four youths made their way inside. Nina held stars of awe in her eyes as she looked out at the vast countryside property, and a girlish sort of excitement as she followed her friends through the dim hallways of the house, only lit by the sun shining through the icy window panes. Chris followed closely behind, he didn't say anything at all, but he took in the chipped gray-blue wallpaper, the lifted old wooden floorings that squeaked under his weight, and the smell of something dead, like cigarette smoke. There was a strange sense that there had been something lively here once, maybe a family, maybe a boy his age who would run through the halls as his mother cooked dinner, or an elderly couple who never wore their rings, waiting for the day the other passed.

The little boy ran his hand along the walls as he wandered behind his older sister, not bothering to listen in to the conversation she held with the two strangers who showed them where the bathroom was, then the kitchen, then the living room. Then, they came to the old art room where Chris and Nina would be sleeping. When the older boy opened the creaky door for them, there was a grand reveal of nothingness. A completely empty space; like a blackhole had swallowed the life out of the room one night, and never spat it back out.

“You’ll have to sleep on the floor for right now, at least until you can afford mattresses,” Toby said, gesturing his hand out at the lack of furniture.

Nina waltzed into her new bedroom, and Chris hesitantly followed after her, uncomfortable. He tugged on her coat to catch the girl's attention, and whispered to her, a horrible confession of sorts.

“I don't wanna live here, Nina. I don’t wanna sleep on the floor.”

The girl had a rich history of sleeping on forest grounds and dirty carpets in the old world; so often, that sleeping on the floor was just another thing she had grown accustomed to, alongside the stench of blood and rot. It was almost more comforting to Nina than the bed she'd woken up in when she came to the new world. She was grateful to have a roof over her head, and told Chris to be as well, ignoring his complaints.

Natalie threw down a couple of pillows onto the floor, and a few blankets she found tucked away in her bedroom closet. The sun outside the window had begun to hide itself behind the winding hills of the farmland, the orange-red skies reflecting off of the glistening snow as the room darkened. The forest trees in the distance stood tall, still, and branched over the warm gleam of the horizon.

“This should be good for tonight. Let me know if you need anything else, alright?” Natalie said with her hands on her hips, looking down at the two guests sitting in their makeshift beds.

“Thanks so much, again, seriously. You're a lifesaver Clocky,” Nina smiled at the tall girl as she curled herself under the blanket, her dark hair sprawled over her shoulders and pillow.

“Just call me Natalie,” she replied as she turned to leave the room, flicking off the lights, leaving only the dim glow of the sunset draping itself on the floor over the pair of siblings, and reflecting from the girl's tired eyes.

“Night, Natalie.”

“G’night, Nina.”

As promised, through the course of the early February days, Nina had enrolled Chris in the small elementary school in town. But instead of finishing her high school education, the girl had focused entirely on getting a full-time job. She would sit for hours at the old library computer, and perfect her resume, before handing it out to every retail store and salon she could find. The winter frost kissed her cheeks as she buried her chilled face into her wooly scarf, mitted hands hugging her body for warmth as she made her way back to the tiny farmhouse, nearly every day.

Eventually, as her friendship with Lady Luck would bring, Nina had found herself working at a clothing store in the smalltown mall. Cursed with the boredom of a 9-5, but thrilled with her first legal paycheck. And the first thing she bought: a pair of new shoes she had kept an eager eye on from the boutique the girl had spent time window-shopping, which instead cursed her with sore feet, and a scolding from Natalie about her poor financial decisions.

Toby tossed a piece of chopped wood into the dying flames of the fireplace, listening to the crackle as the lumber began to be overtaken by the eager fire, and watching as it burned to char. The sparks danced, scorched, in his eyes; the color of pinewood being set ablaze. The boy remained still for a moment, and witnessed, with a sort of hunger that he couldn't quite name. Then, he heard the sound of the front door creaking open, and the sound of little footsteps stomping off snow. Both Nina and Natalie had been kept busy at their jobs that awful season, and sometimes Nina would stay late into the evening, leaving Toby to watch over Chris after the young boy had returned from school.

Chris quietly shuffled into the livingroom, and sat on the couch, reaching for the TV remote, and turning it on. The blare of the television overtook the room with a laugh track from an early-evening sitcom, and Toby looked over at the child who’s gaze was glued to the show. He stared at Chris’s face for a moment, his full cheeks like his sister, neat brown hair, big brown eyes that haven't yet seen half of the world in its tainted glory. Toby turned to look down at the boy’s hands, which settled around the remote mindlessly, and how his legs were too short to touch the floor as they dangled over the edge of the couch. A bright, wide smile crept onto Chris’s face as he exhaled out a repressed laugh at the juvenile joke on TV, followed by another ear-scorching laugh track.

There was a sick sort of feeling gripping the older boy’s chest as he eyed the child next to him with furrowed brow, and he couldn't help his face from scrunching in a sort of disgust, or anger, or guilt. The only thing Toby could think of, was the guttural sobbing of the mother he had witnessed that dead winter night, through the shattered window, watching as she held the body of her child, wailing, pleading to a God they both knew wasn't listening. And when Chris laughed again, at another childish joke on that blaring TV, boyhood resting innocent in his eyes. Toby could only picture him dead.

The older boy quickly stood to his feet, placing a hand over his stomach as a wave of disease and dizziness overtook him. Chris glanced over at Toby with an unassuming concern, but didn't say a word, and watched as the teen stormed out of the livingroom.

Toby had begun to develop an unfortunate habit over the days of avoiding the little boy. He hid in bed to avoid looking at Chris, because he didn't want to look in his eyes and see the terrified, pleading eyes of the children he had to kill before him. He covered his ears, because he didn’t want to hear the soft, quick, tiny footsteps of the boy wandering the halls outside of Toby’s bedroom; unseen, like a ghost, haunting him. And soon thereafter, Toby had begun to make home with the snowy forest landscape outdoors, ignoring his ice-bitten hands, because it was better than facing punishment in child-form.

He laid himself back in the snow, and stared up at the cloudy afternoon skies. Gray and dark, as if there had been a forest fire, and the smoke had spread over the wide heavens. But the woods around the boy remained quiet, only interrupted by the occasional deer running past, or rabbit. And everytime an animal would rustle through the frost, or a twig would snap, Toby would jolt up, heart beating, looking around for the source of the sound, before collapsing back down into his white, cold cradle. He sighed deeply as his heart slowly settled after another twig-snapping scare, and looked up at the dead tree branches towering over him, reaching across the gray skies. The boy felt his eyes grow heavy, and tired, and when he stretched his arms up, he noticed how red his fingers had gotten, nearly blue with chill. Toby let out a groan of irritation at the condition of his hands, and pulled himself to his sore feet, brushing the snow off his sweater as he made his way towards the warmth of the farmhouse.

Toby huffed out hot air into his palms, and rubbed them together before going to open the backdoor, entering into the kitchen. The first thing he saw was the sniffling boy sitting on the floor by the dinner table, and then he saw the blood. Toby didn't quite understand physical pain, but he was taught from a very young age that blood meant injury, and injury meant something bad had happened. Toby looked down at Chris who shied away in shame, rubbing his teary eyes, and turning his bleeding forehead away from the olders gaze. There was a violent sort of feeling that rushed through Toby’s body, a loud irritation, frustration, and his lip twitched.

“Get the fuck up, stop crying,” he shouted out, gesturing the boy to stand up, which he did.

“You hit your head on the table? Are you fucking stupid?” Toby yelled at Chris, who didn't say a word.

For a second, Toby could only look down at the child, and see his 9 year old self looking back up at him. Angry, and so small. And for a second, Toby could only look up, and take a deep breath in, and try not to think of his father. He stood tall across from Chris, who’s gaze remained firm at his feet, and there was no more shouting. Toby’s hand slowly made its way down to the hatchet that sat on the holster of his belt, and gripped the handle for a moment. He stared down at the little boy, half-imagining his younger self who he had killed long ago, alongside many other little boys, because it had to be done, and Toby realized something horrible. Standing over the child, his hand gripping the hatchet handle, the frustration that steamed off his sun-spotted shoulders — he was in control. And even worse, Toby had been in that place many times before, and he made his own decisions, and it haunted him, and now, the ghost stood quiet before him, in the form of a child choking back tears. A child that sort of looked like him.

Toby took a deep breath, inhaling the early evening sun, which had already begun to set, and the musk of the old kitchen. He knelt down, and met Chris’s height, and raised his hand off the hatchet handle, to which the little boy fought against a flinch at the movement.

“Alright,” Toby spoke quietly, “How bad is it?”

Chris sat still on the wooden dining room chair, his feet unable to touch the ground, as he tried not to look at the older boy who shuffled through an old first-aid kit he had found under the bathroom sink. He pulled out peroxide, and a large bandage, and turned to face the boy.

Toby pushed back Chris’s hair from his forehead as he washed the small wound out, holding his head firmly in place as he winced.

“Quit moving, I gotta clean it out,” he muttered as blood gathered on the wet cotton ball he patted gently over the cut. He examined the wound over again, before peeling open the bandage, and placing it onto the boy’s forehead.

“You’ll be fine,” Toby awkwardly reassured as he finished up, avoiding the boy’s uncomfortable glances and turning around to put the supplies away.

“I know,” Chris muttered quietly, “my stepdad's hit me worse.”

Toby quickly stopped, his hands remaining still on the edges of the first-aid kit he had been packing back up. His heart sank deep into his chest, like it was revolted, or stabbed. He looked over at the little boy, who had not only spoken to him for the first time, but had confessed something, like he was on his knees in his bedroom at midnight silently asking God for help. Toby slowly made his way back over towards the child who sat uncomfortable, a bit sad, on the dining room chair.

“Uh, listen, Chris,” Toby stumbled over his words, trying to find something, anything to say. There was something small buried within him that wanted to be heard, something that had been beaten down for so long, that began to crawl, and scratch, and fight its way out of his throat. Toby sat down next to the boy, and there was a subtle, silent ambiance that settled over the two boys, battered and wartorn.

“I’m sorry,” Chris whispered.

“It’s not your fault,” Toby whispered back.

Natalie slipped off her work shoes as she entered the quiet house, darkened by the evening. She listened to the muffled sound of the TV playing cartoons from the livingroom as she shuffled tiredly down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Her overworked fingers dug under her ponytail, and wriggled the hairband off, letting her tangled hair fall on her freckled shoulders. Natalie turned on the squeaky sink faucet, and watched water pour into her cup, filling it nearly to the brim before she turned it off. The girl sighed to herself as she sat exhausted onto the dining table chair, and took a sip of her water. As she placed her cup down onto the table, she raised an eyebrow, and ran her fingers over the once-sharp corners, which had now been sanded down.

#tombwrites #tombfic #creepypasta #ticci toby #nina the killer #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta fanfic #ticci toby creepypasta #ticcitoby #chris hopkins #creepypasta nina the killer #creepypasta ticci toby #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby fanfiction #ticci toby fanfic #ticci toby headcanons

[impossiblesongs]

familiar like my mirror years ago (dhawan!master x reader)

Summary: Did you fancy me as Missy? || this series partakes in and around this fic

✍️✍️✍️fic masterlist

Disclaimer: Not my characters. This is a disclaimer.

Title from "From Eden" by Hozier

AN: this pair hasn’t left me and now it’s everyone’s problem dhawan!master timeline: post-part 6 of OG fic

The Master’s bathroom was possibly the most opulent thing you’d ever laid eyes on, but you may be biased.

Ebony wood colored the floors while purple gloss tiles prettily covered the walls, the grand chandelier winking above shading the tiles in a variant coloring that flowed between plum and magenta. A large round mirror sat between twin sink, lined with dark grey countertops one could glean their reflection upon, and a highly indulgent polymer corner bath so deeply purple it looked black. It seemed a perfect place to brood.

Now that you are a fixture on the ship however, some changes have made their way in.

The sink countertop has marbled with flecks of gold between the grey, and the corner tub has been replaced with a freestanding pearl-gold monstrosity that you have come to adore the more you use it. The mirror has reshaped into a rectangle with a border decorated of shattered pink stained-glass. The chandelier lights have been replaced with black candles.

It’s where the Master knows to find you, the nights you can’t claim sleep.

He wanders in terribly overdressed with a boyish pep in his step. Wordlessly, he starts to roll a sleeve up to his elbow before kneeling down and placing a hand in the water.

“Tepid,” he grimaces but his hand remains as it is, submerged, his fingertips ghost at your ankles. “You know she’d fix that.”

You smile bemusedly, “I told the Tardis not to. I’d never leave.”

The Master’s eyes twinkle as they wander, “I can’t say I’m terribly opposed.”

You gasp and pull your legs up to cover your chest, “What did you come here for? Other than to ogle! We both know you obviously had something in mind. You’re still dressed, for one.”

His face clears from most of his affection and he considers you gravely. You keep immensely still and wait him out, eventually his hand emerges from the water and settles on the rim of the tub.

Finally, he says, “Did you fancy me as Missy?”

You groan and flick water at him, which only makes him grin harder. You’re proud to say that even with a flush high on your cheeks you don’t stammer once, “You know, I don’t think it’s very fair that you expect me to reveal myself to you when you’re fully clothed while I very much am not.”

The Master makes a noise of lament at the back of his throat to answer your point before shimmying out of his shoes and climbing into the tub opposite you fully clothed. His legs extend and settle beneath yours as  his hands reach to curve the underside of your knees, dragging you closer and onto his lap.

“So,” he says, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder before whispering in your ear, “did you fancy me as Missy?”

You pull back and assess his face. And what a handsome face, his luminously eyes, dark as an abyss and twice as trickier. You press yourself fully against him, tucking your face in the crook of his neck while your arms clutch around his back, hugging his ridiculous fully clothed self to you.

“Did you fancy me as Missy?”

“Mmm, I did find you very pleasing and very pretty. I wanted to keep you and dress you up like a doll, you wore too many slacks,” he admits tenderly. “Your turn.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles at the absurdity of him and he merely stokes your back gently, tutting at you when it only makes you laugh harder. He’s being very mother hen.

“I wouldn’t have said so,” you admit finally, “then, anyway. Not until you were gone. When I could think of no one else. Your face, she was all I dreamed about. She was all I wanted.”

The Master hugs you tighter. “I’m sorry. Terrible consequence of me, dear.”

You lock your arms securely around him, so that he can’t pull you back to look at you when you confess the following fear. Even you can’t imagine possibly hiding the reaction he’d find if he gives you an answer you cannot bear. 

“I know you change, and not just your face, but your temperament. Your whole… everything hinges of what changes, I suppose. But I guess what I’m getting at is… is this. How we are now. Is this going to change when you do?”

“Regeneration varies and things do change,” he acknowledges, “but I would wager that it has a lot more to do with who you are, down to the marrow. What truly blooms beneath the bruise. The Doctor, for instance, assumes she has a preference to run away. But that’s her one constant, the thing that never changes.”

“And did you ever possess… that particular compulsion?”

“No, dear. If history serves as our recollection, I have a tendency to run straight towards you, not away. And to answer your inquiry, this, us. It isn’t a one-off. You drive me just as mad now as when I secreted you away in my Tardis. I just… I suppose I couldn’t chance losing you, for things to go wrong. Not when I’d just found you.”

“But I felt the same,” you pull back to look him in the eye. “You had to know that. Not that I’d admit it to myself then. I’d feared I’d scare you away with my silly little human flutterings, but it wasn’t a crush. I loved you, I love you.”

The Master cracks a smile, “You’re not subtle, dear. Of course, I knew. You were good for my vanity. You’re thinking of having lost time, but we weren’t ready. We’re here now, and all we have is time.”

#the master x reader #dhawan!master x reader #wyrwtd

[enhashoutout]

Things I noticed while watching High and Low the Worst X again

I was watching High and Low The Worst X while I was on lunch break and then had more realizations and wanted to write about them lol

These are probably nothing new and someone else probably already noticed these but I wanted to make a post about them sooooo

I’ve watched the movie so many times now idk why I just realized the weight of the three scenes I’m about to talk about. But also I feel like I notice something new every time I watch the movies so I'm gonna cut myself some slack.

Amagai being the only character in the movie who genuinely doesn’t have a sense of friendship/comradery with anyone else.

The first time we see the 3 schools alliance meeting is the opening of the movie, and I remember when I first watched the movie I was like "well damn this looks like a solid ass team" only to find out later that they were in fact not really a team lol 😂 but anywaysss

Watching the movie this time I just realized what Fujin says to Amagai in the first scene in the restaurant where the 3 schools are holding their meetings.

Reiji is first to jump up and say "Let's get this brawl started," and Ghandi jumps in telling Amamgai that their troupes and weapons are ready. Shoji laughs and says that weapons are typical Kamasaka behavior which prompts them to jump at him and Fujin, Raijin, and the other Ebara guys jump straight to his defense while Shoji continues sitting. Amagai tells them to "get us more" while tossing the money bundles in their direction.

Every single fuckin character in this scene's facial expressions have me dying because the disbelief on their faces😂

Shoji looking at Amagai like he's full of shit.

Fujin, Raijin, and Ghandi are looking at him like "wtf?"

The background characters are looking at him in disbelief also like I was WHEEZING when I realized this. Back to the characters who are the main focus of this specific camera frame though, Ghandi and Fujin.

Both characters turn to Amagai with the BIGGEST look of disbelief on their faces and Fujin says "You don't trust we can do it huh?"

To which Amagai says "What's the use in trusting you guys?" and goes on a spiel about how being powerful means you trust no one and not even giving them a slight chance. He also goes on to say that being powerful means bringing everyone else down to their knees and tells the other 3 schools "Just shut up and stick with me. I'll show you what it's like to be at the top." Ryo's face when he says this is a whole other conversation for another day.

I'M SORRY BUT THE LOOKS REIJI AND SHOJI GIVE HIM AFTER HIS LITTLE SPIEL HAD ME ROLLING🤣 Like both characters gave him the most judgmental expression and then you got Shoji over here looking away and rolling his eyes PUH-LEASE I AM DEAD🤣

Aside from all of this being extremely funny to me, this plays into my point from above. Yes, all these looks are super funny but it really shows how as "bad" as the other guys are they still run in the same way that Oya and the other S.W.O.R.D gangs do, through friendship and comradery.

Fujin asked "You don't trust we can do it huh?" because Ebara most likely runs on comradery as well. You don't pay someone to do shit for you, they just know to trust each other to get it done. This is a concept that Amagai does not and can not understand because he's been conditioned to believe that the people around him are not worthy of trust or friendship due to his status, they just work for him. As long as he throws money at their feet, they'll do what he wants.

That's like kind of sad actually, the fact that the other "antagonists" of the film still know friendship and he doesn't... I still hate his guts though. We love Ryoki but we don't love his character Amagai.

The way Shoji vs Tsukasa asks Suzaki why he’s working for Amagai

I think everyone can agree that within that 3 school alliance, Shoji Sameoka was the only character with working brain cells (full offense to all the other characters lol no one else in that room had critical thinking skills I swear). From the first meeting we see, the audience can already tell Shoji is the only character who has doubts about this alliance but also questions it; while everyone else has doubts but proceed to just follow Amagai's orders. This eventually leads to Shoji being the one to suggest that Ebara drop out of the alliance because he thinks it’s stupid which then leads to him agreeing to Todoroki’s terms of dropping out of the alliance if Todoroki wins against Fujin and Raijin. I feel like Shoji as a person judges the other characters based on what he knows/hears about them.

We see this when he confronts Suzaki. Shoji asks Suzaki why he would come to Senomon and work under Amagai when he was the one running Nami High. Suzaki tells him to mind his own business. Shoji is asking Suzaki from a place of strength. Based on the dialogue, it seems like Shoji knew Suzaki and Amagai’s reputations before this alliance. I deduce this down to Shoji knowing that Suzaki was the strongest at Nami High and knowing that Amagai isn’t actually physically strong compared to the other characters, he just likes to cause trouble and make others work for him. People fear Amagai not for his strength or skills as a fighter, but simply because he has the money and status to be at the “top”.

This brings me to believe that Shoji was asking why someone as strong as Suzaki would even work under Amagai who is clearly not a match for him strength wise. It seems like Shoji is asking Suzaki why he would be scared of Amagai’s money and work under him when Suzaki is clearly stronger. I think this is because the Ebara guys ranks are based on their strength/who is the strongest (I make this assumption from the fact that Fujin and Raijin are straight up gym bros lol) so Shoji can’t understand why Suzaki is working under someone clearly weaker than him.

Tsukasa’s question is the same….. but also different.

Tsukasa strikes me as someone who really gets to know someone personally to the best of his abilities before he makes his own judgment on them. We see this with Rao in the movie. Tsukasa could’ve taken everyone’s word for it and been like “oh Rao is a big mean monster” but he takes it upon himself to find out who Rao actually is through Mercy. This is how he finds out Rao isn’t actually all that bad like the stories suggests and that Rao fights for good reason (for his siblings). This trait about Tsukasa is why he asks Suzaki why he fights for Amagai but is also why he’s the only one who is able to understand why Suzaki fights for Amagai without a direct answer.

When Tsukasa asks Suzaki why he works for Amagai, he says “why do you work for a guy like him? Does he has some kind of dirt on you?” and Suzaki just keeps quiet. This brings me to believe that Suzaki probably had a reputation for being the strongest at Nani High but also fought people within reason, he didn’t flaunt his strength just because he felt like it.

Tsukasa asked him based off the kind of person he is and not his strength. I'm assuming Ryo fought people within reason and not so much for fun or to assert his dominance over others with his strength, so him working under someone who has as shitty of a personality as Amagai probably threw Tsukasa off a bit.

He is also however able to tell that there is a friendship there even if it isn't great. At the end when Yuken and Todoroki ask why Ryo would work for someone like Amagai, Tsukasa says it's because he means more to Ryo than that. Alluding to the fact that Ryo is doing stuff for Amagai because he sees him as a friend even if everyone else doesn't.

Okay, I'm done now😂 this wasn't as deep as my other analysis because it's not super deep with comparisons or anything like that it was just stuff I noticed while watching the movie again.

I have fics I'm working on for all the S.W.O.R.D leaders and more for Fujio I'm just swamped with assignments and working a little slow

#high&low #high and low #oya high #high&low story of sword #oya kou #the rampage from exile tribe #makoto hasegawa #yoshino hokuto #senomon tech #high&low x reader

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Have you never heard of such a thing, darling?

There is an abrupt cut to a classic YouTube channel intro. It’s the name ‘The Gotham Files, with Tim Drake’ in a metallic font, bouncing around to royalty-free, terrible dubstep music while fake strobe lights dance in the background. It is impossible to tell whether this is ironic or not. Assumedly yes, though, because then it cuts to a blank title card that seemed to have been ripped right off of a PowerPoint presentation that reads ‘Also Marinette is here’.

(The Timari Buzzfeed Unsolved Au)

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Case of Wayne Manor

A boy sits in a nondescript white room, on a white sofa, in a white shirt and black slacks. This could have all been controlled, of course, however, even the boy himself is not the most colorful – his skin is pale, his hair jet black, and even his eyes are a seemingly lifeless grey. He smiles at the camera, but there’s something unsettling about it. He shows off way too many teeth.

He waves jerkily. “Hello, everyone! I’ve gotten a lot of new subscribers since my last video hunting down the demon known as Poison Ivy –.”

There is an abrupt cut to a new bit of footage, in black and white to signify that it was from the past:

“If you’re a demon then you have to curse me,” the boy is saying from behind a camera.

A seemingly normal woman, though admittedly she is covered in enough dirt to make you wonder if she had just come back from digging up a grave, gives him a blank look. “Why would I do that?”

“You gotta.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Lame.”

The woman’s face drops into the annoyance that had clearly been threatening to appear for a while, and she starts to stand. The boy makes a squeaking noise and immediately runs in the opposite direction.

“– who was not a demon, she was just a regular lady who was really obsessed with poisoning rich people. Which is perfectly understandable and could happen to anyone.”

He nods sagely. There is no reason for this. He simply does. And does it for too long. It gets uncomfortable very quickly.

“But, this does not necessarily mean that ghosts and demons do not exist!”

He smiles. 

“Now, in this episode, I am going to solve the mystery of whether Wayne Manor is truly hauhahaha–!”

He breaks character abruptly, bursting into laughter, covering his mouth with his fist in an attempt to smother it. A flush spreads across his cheeks, finally adding much-needed color to the room. “Sorry, I can’t – I can’t do my usual intro with you there.”

A person behind the camera giggles. “Aw, am I distracting you?”

“You were looking at me like you thought I was possessed, of course it was distracting.”

“You looked possessed, I don’t know what to tell you –!”

He laughs at her and makes a spinning motion with his pointer finger. “Oh my god, Editor!Me, just roll the intro here.”

On cue, there is an abrupt cut to a classic YouTube channel intro. It’s the words ‘The Gotham Files, with Tim Drake’ in a metallic font, bouncing around to royalty-free, terrible dubstep music while fake strobe lights dance in the background. It is impossible to tell whether this is ironic or not.

Assumedly yes, though, because then it cuts to a blank title card that seemed to have been ripped right off of a PowerPoint presentation that reads ‘Also Marinette is here’.

When the white screen disappears, the viewers find Tim standing alone in front of a wrought iron fence. The plants at the fence’s feet are overgrown, weaving intricately around the poles and climbing up the sides.

Tim had also climbed up the fence, evidently, seeing as he was still breathing a little heavily. The boy looks more normal now, wearing an old hoodie and jeans and smiling in a way that shows off his dimples. His cheeks have far more color in them now, but that just might be due to overexertion.

“Hey, so, GCPD – I know you watch my videos because Poison Ivy got arrested like a week after I posted – I would like you to know that I’m not actually trespassing. In order to trespass, there have to be people living in the place you’re supposedly trespassing in. Probably. I don’t know the law. But you guys don’t, either, so!”

He flashes a finger gun with the hand not holding the camera and attempts a wink. Unfortunately, Tim is unable to wink, so he just ends up blinking aggressively at a camera lens.

But that’s beside the point! He turns the camera around to point it at what one would, politely, call an abandoned mansion.

Less politely, it would be called a safety hazard. Half of the building looked like it had caved in on itself, graffiti covered the previously pristine white walls, and plants climbed in and out of every window. The back door hangs half off its hinge, and Tim doesn’t even want to imagine what has taken residence in the place since the Wayne family’s unfortunate passing.

“Everyone ready for another day of probably getting tetanus?”

There is no answer. He is talking to a camera.

Said camera speeds through the next few minutes of Tim exploring. Stagnant water and mold, dust bunny families and spiderwebs, a raccoon that Tim runs from immediately, rusting cookware still left out on the counter for a family that would never get to eat it, a moment to linger on Tim when he stubs his toe on a loose floorboard and heaves a deep sigh, a portrait that was peeling out of its frame, a broken grandfather clock, Tim posing in front every graffitied penis he could find, ransacked closets and cabinets…

He stops in the middle of the mansion, smiling widely when the camera is spun back to look at him. “Well, no ghosts yet, but we can’t rule them out. I guess.”

He takes off his backpack and begins rifling through it until he finds his Spirit Box.

“Now, I’m sure that most of you know what this is, but just in case you don’t: a Spirit Box will cycle through local radio frequencies at a rapid speed. The theory is that ghosts can string together these snippets of words to speak or answer questions.”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Or, at least, that’s what people say. I’ll believe it when I see it. Until then, I’m going with a healthy mix of the ‘lucky coincidences’ and ‘confirmation bias’ theories.”

He flicks the nob to turn it on, and the radio immediately begins to cycle through vague sounds, the box crackling.

Tim shuffles a little, letting the box run as he shrugs off his jacket and sets it down so he can have a clean spot to sit for a while. He props up the camera on his knee and angles it up to show his face as he lifts the Spirit Box to his lips.

“Is anyone there?”

“Ye –!”

Tim looks unperturbed. “You said there’s someone there?”

The box sputters out an indecipherable string of sounds. A fluke, then.

He gives a small hum. “I see, I see.”

There is another moment as the box continues to make sounds. They’re deeper in tone now, but no closer to human language.

“Well,” he says. “If there is anyone in the room with me, I’d like to ask you to show yourself in some way. Possess something nearby, move something, make a sound –.”

The door slams open, and Tim instantly jumps to his feet, the camera catching a terrible view of the underside of his chin for a moment when he hugs it to his chest. Don’t worry, though, dear viewer, for he soon remembers that he is a YouTuber and quickly readjusts, pointing the camera at the door.

There is no one there, but a brilliant light illuminates the door opposite the room they are in.

“Wha…?” Tim says, his voice a whisper, only barely caught by his mic.

There is a person talking just outside the room. They are speaking in tongues.

Or perhaps in French, it is often hard to tell.

Regardless, the captions at the bottom of the video say that it is French and that she is apparently saying a vast quantity of demonetizable words that Editor!Tim could not write out.

The gist, though, is that she is apparently there because of a bet and not happy about it. Hence the many demonetizable words.

After a few seconds, Editor!Tim apparently gives up on censoring individual words, and instead chooses to bleep out the entirety of what she was saying. For the sake of monetization, not because he’s a stickler for rules or anything.

You might think that demonetizable words should be allowed when you are hunting ghosts and demons and the like, and Tim might agree, but he actually likes money, so...

What was the point here?

Oh, right.

Slowly, a girl makes her way into the room, her phone out in front of her like a pitifully tiny shield, the flashlight nearly blinding Tim.

She stares at him for a long few moments. She mumbles something to herself, but even in editing Tim had been unable to decipher it. So, yellow question marks litter the screen.

“Uh… hi,” Tim says, lifting his hand in an awkward wave.

[Ew, an American.]

Tim’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair. [You realize that you’re in America, right? Most people here are going to be Americans.]

Her eyes widen. “You… you speak French?!” she asks in heavily accented English, seeming mortified. Not because she felt bad about insulting him, but instead that she had been caught doing it.

[Obviously.]

Her face reddens, and she tries, unsuccessfully, to hide it with her free hand. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Are you really?”

She seems to consider this for a few moments, before shrugging. “I guess not.”

Tim should probably be offended. He isn’t, though. At least she was honest. Eventually.

She sticks a hand out. “I’m Marinette.”

He shakes it, smiling. “Tim.”

There were a few moments as they looked at each other, unsure what to do.

“I think your radio is broken,” she says finally, pointing at the Spirit Box. It lay on the floor, abandoned, just barely vibrating from the force of its own sounds. “Or, at least, it’s not getting any reception way out here. Keeps saying ‘Hi’.”

Tim frowns. “What time is it?”

“Like…” she looks at her phone. “About seventeen…”

She catches on to his blank stare. She glances behind herself, further into the house, as if considering braving the ghosts.

She is not brave.

She closes the door behind herself, smiling. “Right. American. Five in the afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s because everyone is getting off work and they’re greeting the sudden influx of viewers.”

“I have literally no clue how that correlates.”

“It’s ghosts,” he says, rolling his eyes.

She either does not understand sarcasm or simply does not want to risk it, because her shoulders hike up to her ears and she looks around quickly. “I’m going to kill Alya,” she hisses.

“If you hate ghosts that much, I don’t think that’s in your best interest. Because killing someone would lead to more ghosts, you know,” Tim points out.

Despite the fact that he keeps his tone as gentle as he can while breaking this news to her, she looks absolutely devastated.

Slowly, Tim picks himself up off of the floor, turning off the Spirit Box as he goes. The Spirit Box gives a high whine before sputtering out, but he pays it no mind, so this must not be important. He stuffs it in his bag and heads over to Marinette, slinging an arm over her shoulders and starting to lead her away, out of the room and through the many, winding hallways.

“Know what will calm you down? I’m going to tell you all about the family that once owned this place, and their unfortunate demises.”

“Are you streaming?” she asks, eyeing his camera warily.

“... does the way that I answer this affect whether I’ll die here or not?”

She giggles and does not answer. He does not seem assured by this.

Still, he points the camera at themselves and begins to explain: “The Waynes were a lovely family of philanthropists, and the town lost quite a lot when they were tragically shot after their family outing to the theater. To this day, twenty years after that tragic night, Gotham has yet to recover.”

A few moments of silence swallow them.

Text at the bottom of the screen says that this is not an editing mistake, and instead a choice made to respect the dead. There is also a timestamp where a person can skip to the next bit of ‘content’ if they so wish, and they would go on with their day none the wiser of the fact that Editor!Tim had called them a ‘limp noodle of a person who would not know morality if it walked up, introduced itself, and then punched them in the face’.

But, again, those people would be none the wiser, so…

Tim smiles charmingly at the camera, as if he had not just insulted a large portion of them without their knowledge. “Now their house is a prime hangout spot for dumb teens, such as Marinette and me.”

“I’m not dumb,” she huffs halfheartedly.

“You believe in ghosts.”

“Well, yeah, duh, I’d be stupid not to, seeing as my house is haunted.”

“You’ve seen ghosts?” Tim says, skeptical.

“You don’t see ghosts,” she sniffs, in that tone people use when they are offended by the stupidity they are being presented with. Tim gets this a lot, but never has he ever felt it was so unwarranted. “You just know they’re there. Like when they knock over your cups for no reason.”

Briefly, the image of a cat flickers on the screen. Because that is what she is describing. A cat.

“Okay. Unrelated question, is belief in ghosts common in your culture? Because they won’t treat you if it is.”

She shoots him an annoyed scowl, but there is something amused tugging at the corners of her lips regardless. “You’re the absolute worst.”

He grins. “Glad you think so. I put lots of effort into making people hate me, you know. It’s nice to have my efforts appreciated for once.”

“I wouldn’t say appreciated…”

“No no. I’m appreciated.”

“Okay,” she says easily.

They reach the front doors, and Marinette raises an eyebrow.

“You know, if you wanted me to leave, you could have just told me. I would have left.”

“I couldn’t just leave a woman in need alone,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest.

She looks unimpressed.

“... and, besides, I was pretty much done here, so…” he shrugs. “Figured I’d escort you out.”

She looks at her phone for a moment before shaking her head. “I appreciate it, but I can’t leave for another… twenty-three minutes.”

He thinks this over for a few moments, frowning. He glances back the way they came, as if considering hanging around for longer. And then he decides against it with a tiny shake of his head.

“You know, it’s illegal to be here,” he says.

“You’re here. And filming yourself doing the illegal thing. I think that makes what you’re doing way worse.”

Tim’s eyebrows knit together. “I mean, touche and all, but I was just saying that you could tell your friend that to get out of this.”

“... oh.”

He snorts into his hand. “Oh my god, did you really not realize?”

“Shut up! I hate you!” she whined. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, you know!”

“Yeah. Like cups falling off of tables, apparently.”

She punches him in the shoulder lightly, and he only laughs more openly.

Still, ever the gentleman (even while laughing at her misfortune), he opens the door for her. Still, despite her supposed hatred of him, she rushes through all too eagerly with a murmured thank you.

He only gets a second to follow after her before the door slams shut behind them, so close to hitting Tim in the back that the force of it makes his hair blow in his face.

Marinette throws him behind herself immediately, her hands up in a fighting position as if she intends to fight the ghost for him. Not that it would help, probably, but the thought was still there.

Tim looks a little touched as he rests a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

“Don’t worry about it, the place is old, and the loss of weight is probably just throwing everything off balance.”

“... is that supposed to make me feel better? Because all I’m hearing is that this building is super unstable.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re outside now, isn’t it?” he says, grinning cheekily.

And, despite herself, she smiles back.

His expression drops immediately as something hits him to make up for the door’s near miss. He groans and falls to his knees in utter devastation. “I left my jacket inside…”

“It’s the ghosts’ jacket now,” she says, patting him on the back in a way that really isn’t as consoling as she seems to think it is.

Tim starts to fake cry.

There is a hard cut. Tim is back on the couch he had been on at the beginning, but his posture is more relaxed this time and his smile is actually normal.

“Well, as usual, there was no ghost to be found. Because they don’t exist.”

A pillow sails across the screen, very intent on hitting him, but he bats it away easily. Because it’s a pillow.

“But maybe the real ghosts are the friends we made along the way!”

Marinette groans off-screen. “Don’t do this to me. You’re going to make me have an existential crisis.”

He hums a little, his eyes gleaming as he leans back, letting himself sink into the plush couch. “So, as usual, there isn’t much to go over…” He smiles. “I guess I can talk about meeting Mari, though. My first thought when meeting Mari was…” He trails off, visibly mulling it over in his mind with pursed lips. “Well, my first thought was that she looked scared and it would probably help her if she had someone to do this with.”

Someone behind the camera coos, not noticing the way his lips begin to tug upwards into a smirk.

“My second thought was ‘The people like it when I have guests on. I can capitalize on this’.”

Marinette makes a sound incomprehensible to human ears and rushes into frame, a new pillow raised. Tim screams.

The scene cuts. Marinette and Tim are sitting on the couch together, now. Their hair is a little messy from the unshown pillow fight. Marinette is lazing across the sofa, her legs thrown over Tim’s lap, so it was safe to assume she had won.

“You want to know what I thought when I first met you?” Marinette wears a slightly sheepish grin. “I thought ‘Oh my god, why is the ghost so tiny? He needs soup.’”

Tim snorts. “No way.”

She nods, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral. She turns to look at the camera dead on. “And, if you guys at home don’t want to be mistaken for skinny little ghosts, then you should hop on over to the website of our sponsor, Hello Fresh!”

Tim rests his arm over the top of the couch, smiling openly. “We’re actually sponsored by Raid: Shadow Legends.”

Marinette snaps her fingers in her best overdramatic ‘awwwww man’ gesture, shaking her head. “God dang it. It was worth a shot.”

“Eh, I’ll still use it as an excuse to do my ad read now.” He turns to grin at the camera, opening his mouth –.

As one, everyone watching leaves the video.

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

#maribat #timari #timinettte #timmari #this was supposed to come out on Halloween but shut up #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake

[polutrope]

oooh holiday prompts! Can I ask for Maedhros & Maglor, and “singing carols” please? ❤️

Thank you for the prompt! Here we have ~1100 words of Maedhros saving the show -- a little canon fix-it, if you will. Handful of F-bombs, otherwise G-rated brotherly fluff. Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list. Beleria Cast of Characters.

Maglor flung his hand under the tap and unleashed a string of curses entirely inappropriate for the greenroom of a children’s theatre school. Already blisters bubbled up on the tip of his index finger and the heel of his palm. There was a gash across his thumb joint from the broken ceramic.

Shit. He glared at the microwave as if it had personally injured him. What kind of shit-ass microwave only heats the bowl—! Why was it so damn hot!

“I swear, I could throw you out the fudging window right now,” he grumbled at the appliance.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Finvesen? Are you okay?”

Maglor startled. “What? Oh, hi, Galdor. Yeah yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” said Galdor with all the arch attitude of his thirteen years.

“I just burned myself a bit.” Maglor examined his blisters with trepidation.

“Why is there a shattered bowl and soup all over the floor?”

“Because that’s how I burned myself!” Maglor snapped, then took a deep breath.

“That doesn’t look like a microwavable bowl,” Galdor drawled.

Maglor grit his teeth and did not respond.

“Hey,” said Galdor, “how are you gonna accompany us for the concert if your hand is fucked up?”

“Galdor! Don’t swear!”

At that, Maglor’s eyes flooded with tears and he sank to the ground in front of the greenroom sink, cradling his bleeding, burning hand in his lap.

Galdor huffed and left him to his misery.

*

Relatives and friends filed into the small black box theatre at Lindon Studio. For all the effort that went into the children’s summer musical, it was the Yule concert that the kids’ families looked forward to most. The old metal folding chairs creaked as proud parents took their seats and boasted good-naturedly about their children’s many achievements that year.

Maglor stood in the entrance, greeting each group with forced enthusiasm and hoping no one would notice that his left hand was rammed in his pocket where it clutched an ice pack.

In the background, he listened anxiously to the garbled melodies Daeron was plunking out on the piano. It was not good. It was frankly embarrassing. Maglor had to implement Plan B.

But would he come?

There! Maglor nearly tripped as he wound a path through the press of bodies towards the head of red hair rising above them all.

“Oh thank god you're here,” Maglor said in a breathless rush.

“Whoa, hey. Of course I am,” said Maedhros, pulling him into a hug, which Maglor returned one-armed. His head fell against Maedhros’ shoulder with a pained choking sound.

“Uh, Cáno?” Maedhros pulled back to look at him. “Are you okay?”

“No, no. Not at all,” Maglor gritted through his teeth, aware of the crowd around them.

Maedhros guided him to a bench around the corner of the building.

“What’s going on?” he asked when they were seated. “Why do you have your hand shoved in your pocket like that?”

Maglor took a deep breath and pulled the hand and ice pack from his slacks. Then, eyes shamefully cast to the ground, he showed Maedhros the ruination wrought by his dinner plans.

“Yikes,” said Maedhros. “Still not using a rag to take things out of the microwave, then?”

“Shut up,” said Maglor.

“Sorry. Looks pretty bad.”

“It is bad. I’ve got to lead kids in a concert in twenty minutes and my hand is fucked! I can’t play piano!”

“Oh. Right, shit. What about Daeron?”

Maglor frowned and glared at Maedhros. He waited for the sound of Daeron’s playing inside the theatre to make itself heard.

“Is that him?” Maedhros asked, and grimaced. “I thought he was, like, super talented.”

“He is!” Maglor said, and stuck his throbbing blister in his mouth. “But he can’t read sheet music,” he said around the finger, “and barely knows his way around a piano. He taught himself by ear on a guitar, the fucking hipster prodigy.” He pulled his finger from his mouth and flapped it frantically in front of him. “That was mean. Don’t tell him I said that. Ugh! I’m just—!”

“It’s all right," Maedhros chuckled, "I know you like fucking hipster prodigies.” Maglor groaned. “Okay, so. Surely someone else who works here can play piano though?”

“No! Of course not! The admin is all actors who didn’t make it because they didn’t have these skills. Nelyo,” Maglor pivoted towards him, “you remember how to play, right?”

“Oh,” said Maedhros. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but…”

“Can you do it?” Maglor grabbed him by the shoulder and stared intently. “Please. Please, I am begging you. Save my dignity in front of these theatre moms.”

“I mean, I would, but…” Maedhros showed Maglor his right hand, which was wrapped in a tensor bandage. “The injury has been acting up. I’m down a hand, too.”

Maglor’s eyes dropped to his brother’s hand and back up. “Fuck.”

“Hey, hey,” said Maedhros. “No wait, I’ve got an idea.”

“Please,” said Maglor.

“Well you remember how we used to play duets, when I sucked too bad to do the bass and treble at once?”

Maglor smiled wryly at the memory. “Yeah, you were pretty terrible.”

“So we do that. People will love it.”

Maglor’s racing pulse started to even out. His eyes widened. “Nelyo. You genius. Agh!” He threw his arms around his brother’s shoulders. “I could cry. Again. You saved me.”

A discordant clang slipped through the theatre door. Maglor winced.

Maedhros patted Maglor’s back reassuringly. “Now let’s get your poor boyfriend off that piano bench ASAP.”

*

With his left hand resting on a fresh ice pack, Maglor lifted his right to the keys. Beside him, Maedhros did the same with his left. The house lights dimmed and voices dwindled to a hush. Maglor could sense the buzz of excitement from the choir of children huddled on the stage, holding their breath almost as a single being in their shared anticipation.

As the stage lights came up, slowly bathing the space in soft gold, Maglor looked at his brother beside him. Maedhros’ eyes smiled back.

“I might still suck,” he whispered out the corner of his mouth.

“Too late,” Maglor replied, and struck the first chord to cue the children: Jingle Bells was about to begin.

Maedhros did struggle a little, but Maglor barely noticed, overcome by the warm pride that welled up in his heart whenever he heard a chorus of young voices singing in harmony. Yes, he was terribly underpaid, and terribly overworked, and terribly stupid about handling hot objects —but he loved this job.

By the time they were singing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, Maedhros was mouthing the lyrics along with them. Soon after, he was merrily singing along to Wonderful Christmastime (“ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding!”) with such performative gusto that Maglor laughed so hard he fumbled his own part.

No one seemed to mind.

#maedhros #maglor #holiday prompts #modern au #beleria au #my fic #can you tell I was a theatre kid? #what of the lords of gondolin are all kids? #if*