#only man in that story who had ever paid taxes

[chamerionwrites]

Whilst watching Rebels I developed an inordinate fondness for Jun Sato specifically because everybody else knew they were in a YA story but he was like "who gave this middle schooler a deadly weapon," which is an extremely relatable mood when watching a YA story.

#only man in that story who had ever paid taxes #well. kallus probably paid taxes (derogatory) but sato paid taxes (affectionate) #he's just very middle-aged and very regular guy amidst the cartoon space opera you feel me #it's funny the tonal contrasts entertain me #star wars rebels #jun sato #star wars #my posts

[kradogsrats]

The mage wasn’t like others Viren had seen before.

Mages didn't come to their town often, tucked away as it was in the foothils south of Mount Kalik. Any that did moved on quickly, collecting a few coins from the townspeople for spells to harden their vegetable gardens against frost, or keep worms out of the apples ripening on their trees. A few claimed, in hushed tones and with sly smiles, to traffic in other kinds of magic, as well—love potions, fortune-telling, or curses. Viren's neighbors didn't often have money to spare for such things, and the mages, real or not, preferred towns where they could reliably find customers. Most never returned.

The woman who scryed the mines was an exception, visiting twice a year to check the shafts and tunnels for hidden weaknesses, and to tell the foreminers where new ones ought to be dug to find the richest iron. That was real magic, paid for in gold—she stayed in the chief forewoman's fine house when she visited, sleeping on a feather mattress and being served the best food available. She hardly spoke a word to the townsfolk, and no one was allowed to watch her cast her spells, but there hadn't been a collapse since Viren was a baby and the new tunnels always produced generously. She may have been a snob, but she wasn't a charlatan.

A healer also passed through every few months, to trade with the town herbalist and confer with her on any illnesses or injuries afflicting the townsfolk. He was a kind man, worn thin and exhausted by care, and while Viren had never seen him do any magic, there were rumors carried from other towns of him straightening babies' club feet or knitting together their cleft lips with a touch. The herbalist was in charge of a small stock of potions purchased from him to handle severe injuries, paid for with a tax collected from the workers—salve to clean and heal deep burns from molten metal, tonics that restored bones crushed beyond setting with splints, poultices to halt the bleeding of even a severed limb. Each one cost at least a month's wages from an entire family, far more than what most of the wanderers asked for their thin, colorful vials. Viren suspected that might be because the healer's actually worked, but he wasn't likely to find out for sure. If he ever broke a bone, he'd be healing the normal way.

The mage currently idling in the town square was different from all of them.

He was young, for one—only barely a man. The traveling mages Viren had seen before were his mother's age or older, and weathered by a hard life on the road. Sometimes they had an older child or gangly teenager shadowing their steps, but Viren had never seen one so young traveling alone. He had sharp eyes set in a golden-brown face thick with freckles, and a faint stubble was just beginning to line his jaw. Sandy hair curled around his ears below the wide-brimmed traveling hat he wore. His clothes were plain and patched, and the worn pack he carried looked probably older than he was, but sturdy.

And he had a book.

It was a thick, leather-bound volume, the gilt trim on its ornate cover mostly worn away. He carried it at his hip, strapped to his belt with tongues of leather held in place by buttoned clasps—secured within easy reach, and never out of his sight. None of the other mages Viren had seen before had anything like it. Spellbooks were for mages in stories, not real. Everyone knew that.

But here was a mage, with what definitely looked like a spellbook. A real one.

If he wanted to know more—which he definitely did—he'd have to approach the stranger-mage. Adults didn't like being pestered needlessly by children, and the mage may have been young, but he wasn't a child. Viren would be more welcome if he had something to offer. He'd also have to hurry. If the mage's attention was claimed by others who had paying work for him, there was no way he'd ever speak to Viren.

He sprinted home, banging the door open in a way that would have drawn his mother's ire, had she been there. She would be tending the furnaces in the smeltery until nightfall, when she'd return exhausted and soot-stained to eat the supper Viren prepared and then collapse in her cot. It wasn't always like that—there were times when they cooked together, or he read aloud to her, or they joined the neighbors in one of their homes for music and singing—but the demand for the town's steel had climbed suddenly, and so she'd been working double shifts for nearly a month.

He grabbed a string of dried apple slices from where they hung in the cellar—it wouldn't be missed. The trees would be fruiting again soon, anyway. Vanished bread would be harder to explain if it was noticed, but he took the bun set aside for his own lunch, and risked swiping a second from the basket. He'd skip bread at supper, to make up for it. A wedge of cheese sliced off the big wheel, hopefully slim enough to not visibly change its shape, completed his offering. He wrapped everything quickly in a napkin, then took off running again, back toward the square.

The mage was still there, filling his canteen from the fountain. Viren waited for him to finish, trying not to betray his nerves by fidgeting. When the mage turned around, he thrust out the bundle of food. "Here," he said. "It's after midday. Have you eaten?"

His skin prickled under the mage's surprised scrutiny. Close up like this, Viren could see that his freckles extended even onto his eyelids and lips, denser and darker high on his cheeks. His eyes were warm and brown, darker than Viren's even though his blond hair was fairer. He looked Viren up and down for a long moment, head cocked to one side.

"I haven't," he finally replied, accepting the bundle from Viren's hands. "That's very kind of you."

Viren trailed after him toward a section of the low stone wall that surrounded the square, where it was shaded by a pair of trees. The mage shrugged off his pack, then sat down on the wall with an appreciative sigh. Viren remained standing, watching him open the napkin and survey its contents.

"You're a mage, right?" he said, unable to contain himself any longer. "Is that a real spellbook?"

"Sure am, and sure is." The mage tore a chunk off the first bun and chewed it slowly. It was ordinary, day-old bread, but he closed his eyes if savoring it.

Viren couldn't help himself. He thought he might burst, desire to know things previously beyond his experience bubbling out of him. "Where did it come from? Can you do any of the spells? Can you do all of them? What kind of spells are they?"

The mage didn't answer for a moment, dried apple crunching in his mouth. "We playing twelve questions, or are you always this nosy?"

Viren stiffened, blushing. "No! I don't—"

"Relax, kid—I'm just pulling your tail. How's this: someone gave it to me a while back, yes, not yet, and all kinds." The mage grinned, tilting his head to indicate a spot on the wall next to him. "Take a seat. What’s your name?”

Viren scrambled to sit in the place he'd been offered. “Viren.”

"I'm Luca. Came from Duren, originally." He pinched up the few crumbs shed into the napkin by the first bun, eating them off his fingers as he watched Viren expectantly.

“Duren's a long ways away," Viren said, trying to sound indifferent. He still bristled at being called nosy, joking though it had been. "What are you doing here?”

"I'm headed toward Evenere, eventually," Luca replied easily. He gestured toward the east. "I came south across Weeping Bay by boat, and thought I'd take a look at Mount Kalik before starting the walk to the capital."

"You added at least two days to your route just for Mount Kalik?" Viren looked incredulously in the direction of the looming mountain. He didn't even notice it was there, most days. "There's nothing special about it. It's just tall."

"There aren't a lot of mountains in Duren, so excuse me if I think 'just tall' is still pretty impressive." Luca paused to drink from his canteen. "But really, I'm hoping I might find some interesting plants or creepy-crawlies up there, something that fuels magic. I figure it's worth a day or two to take a look. Assuming I don't get eaten by a banther, that is."

That reasoning brought Viren up short. "Wait—you're saying magic comes from plants?"

Viren had only ever seen one or two spells actually being cast. A family living a short distance from his home had a persistent problem with mites in their garden, and their neighbors had pooled money together for a mage to get rid of them before they spread. That mage had welcomed spectators, as if putting on a performance, and Viren had assumed the bird's foot tied with strange herbs that crumbled to ash in their hand was solely to enhance the drama.

"Plants, bugs, bits of bigger creatures—humans don't have magic in us already, so we get it from something that does. Usually that something has to come from Xadia, where everything's full of magic, but there are also a few places hidden away here in the kingdoms where there's still a bit to be found." Luca smiled wryly. "Fortunately for mages with more skill than they have coin, like me. Otherwise every spell comes out of my own pockets, which are light enough, already."

"Why become a mage, then?" Viren knew most mages weren't rich—not even the mine scryer took collecting her gold for granted—but there was no sense in work that cost more than it brought in. Not unless it somehow paid out the difference in the future, but even that was like digging past good iron hoping to hit silver.

“Never was cut out to be a farmer.” Luca’s tone was light, but his mouth twisted slightly. “My parents wouldn’t hear of me doing anything else, so I got desperate. I didn't set out thinking I'd learn magic, but I convinced a mage who came through my village to take me with her—just to get away. Haven’t seen home or them since.

"Funny how things turn out—I'd planned to ditch her a few towns over and make for Berylgarten, but then she started teaching me, and I loved it. I can't imagine doing anything else, now." He smiled again, glancing sidelong at Viren. “Looking back, I suppose I always wanted something more. Something special. Know what I mean?”

Viren thought he might. He was clever—everyone said so. He'd read everything he'd ever gotten his hands on, most of it more than once. Some of it he even understood. Had he been born to a family with a bit of money, or even just a little closer to the capital, he might have been sent there to apprentice with a cleric or scholar.

Here, there were no such options. The herbalist had a daughter she was already teaching her trade, and no need for a second student. The schoolteacher, who'd provided Viren with books out of his own wages for years, was nonetheless assigned by the crown and would eventually be replaced the same way—with someone educated far away, who’d gotten chances Viren never would.

Here, he’d never be anything more than a miner or a smelter. Maybe a foreman, one day, at best.

The other choice was to enlist. Some of the older town youths counted the days until the recruiters arrived, training their bodies in hopes of being allowed on the wagon headed for one of the far-away training camps, but Viren had never found it appealing. To be honed into an obedient weapon and spill blood for crown and kingdom, hoping he survived long enough to collect a pension at the end of it—spend his life going where he was bid, doing what he was told, fighting who he was ordered. As humble as a miner's life might be, at least he could choose which rocks to break.

There was no shame in mining. His home was an honest town of honest people, doing honest work—important work, for the good of Katolis. They coaxed iron from the ground and wrung it into the raw steel that would become swords and helmets and breastplates to defend their sons and daughters, whether at the border or sleeping peacefully in their beds. They gave their labor until their backs were stooped and twisted, their hands scarred into gnarled lumps, and their last breaths wheezed from lungs choked with soot and dust.

Some part of him, kept smothered into unnoticed silence for years, now screamed in rebellion at the thought. He wanted more. He wanted to be more than a nameless son of the town he'd never been further than half a day's walk from, digging the same rocks as his father and grandfather, for a new king fighting the same war.

He'd never thought about being a mage. He'd never met a mage that made it seem like something worth being. Something he could be. But now—

Viren realized suddenly that Luca was watching him. "Looks like you're thinking some deep thoughts, kid," he said, snapping an apple ring in two and sandwiching the last bit of cheese between the halves before popping it in his mouth.

"Maybe," Viren hedged. He looked down at his hands resting on his knees. "Was magic very hard to learn?"

"Not hard at all." Luca grinned. "You don't need to be special—anyone can do it. Takes a certain kind of mind to get good at it, though. You have to be sharp, curious and creative. Confident. Stubborn.

"Some quit when it gets hard, or frightening. They're who you see most often in these parts—the ones who never learn more than a handful of simple spells, then parade around towns like this one lording over people and taking their money." His face twisted again, in contempt or anger. "They limit themselves, usually because they're scared. If you want real power, you have to be willing to do whatever it takes."

It made sense to Viren. More effort and bigger risk nearly always meant a better reward. Iron could be easily dug from open pits, under the sun—but it was poor stuff, good for nails and little else, even after refining. The purest veins were underground, down in the darkness where the earth closed in around you like a fist. People had died, seeking iron good enough to make Katolian steel.

"Are there a lot of mages out there? Not many come this far south."

Luca scratched his jaw, thinking. “I know of a couple dozen here in Katolis, give or take. Most of them are small-time and keep closer to the border, where it's easier to get Xadian materials. Weeping Bay has you a bit cut off here, unfortunately." He shrugged. "I hear there are a lot more in Neolandia, or Evenere. That’s why I'm pointed that way. I want to find a better teacher—my old one was okay, but I learned all I could from her pretty quickly."

“Who’s the best?" Viren sounded a little too interested, even to himself. He looked away. "I mean, if you could learn from anyone at all.”

It wasn't as if he'd be running off to learn magic any time soon. Or ever. Probably. But if he were—there was no point in learning from a teacher who wasn't any good.

“Well, both Neolandia and Evenere have what they call high mages—advisors to the crown itself on everything related to magic. They’d know more about it than anyone. Probably cast spells I’ve never even heard of just to warm their tea.”

Viren’s face fell. Evenere was already far away, and Neolandia might as well have been the moon. It would probably be easier to go to Xadia and learn magic from an elf.

“Katolis hasn't had a high mage in years,” Luca continued, seeing his disappointment, “but here, the best is probably old Kpp’Ar.”

“Kpp’Ar,” Viren repeated, fumbling the odd name in his mouth. He tried again, then gave up before he could embarrass himself further. “Why not ask him to teach you?”

Luca barked a laugh. “Oh, he doesn’t take students. Never has, according to rumor. I suppose I could track him down on my way through the capital and ask, but I'd be wasting my time."

"I thought you said mages had to be stubborn?"

"Maybe so, but from what I hear, even a mountain would have trouble being more stubborn than Kpp'Ar." Luca shook his head. "He's an odd one, by all accounts. Even among mages."

Viren frowned. "You'll go all the way to Evenere, then? Just like that?"

"Sure. It's only a couple days to the capital on foot. Maybe three, if you take your time about it. Plenty of trade goes to Evenere, so it shouldn't be much problem to find someone willing to take me on as a passenger in exchange for loading and unloading crates or other labor." Luca leaned back on his hands, tilting his head up to catch the sun trickling through the cover of the tree stretched overhead. "Might even ask around to see if anyone has work for a mage. The crown doesn't like too many mages idling around in the city for too long, but plenty of people still need magic—maybe I'll find someone who will pay for it while I'm there. Several someones, with any luck."

He shrugged, looking back toward Viren. "Either way, it'll be just a wagon ride with some merchant to the port, and then a boat through the isles to Evenere."

Viren tried to imagine it. He'd never seen the capital, much less the sea. He suddenly wanted to. He wanted to learn, to know real magic—the kind that could do something more than just lift blight from a field or proof wooden walls against fire. The kind that really made a difference, doing things that were otherwise impossible, the way it did in old stories of the early kingdoms. He hadn't known there was magic like that still in the world, and now he wanted it like a man entombed in the earth wanted light and air.

"Take me with you!" he blurted out. "I'm almost done with my schooling—I read and write better than most of the grown-ups, already. You could teach me, easy. I wouldn't be any trouble. I don't even eat much."

His face heated at his own impulsivity. It was a foolish request, and he knew it. He was a child, with nothing of value to offer, asking a total stranger to take him on as a burden—as much as he wanted to believe he could carry his own weight, he was well aware that he was just another mouth to feed, who would move slower and tire faster than a grown man.

He also already knew from Luca's face what the answer would be.

"I believe you. It's obvious you're both smart and dedicated, Viren," Luca said, not unkindly, "and I wish I could take you with me. But you deserve someone who can teach you properly. I don't know enough for that, yet." He looked down at his feet. "And while it may be fine for me to miss a few meals, or sneak into someone's barn to sleep out of the rain and then get chased out in the morning—that's not a life I feel right about bringing a kid into, but I wouldn't be able to provide any better. To tell the truth, I'd be trying to sleep on near two days' empty stomach tonight, if it weren't for your kindness."

"It was no trouble," Viren said automatically, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment.

"Yeah," Luca replied, in a tone that said he knew what it meant to feed a stranger in a town like Viren's, but also that any further display of gratitude would be an affront to his pride. "Hey, I tell you what—"

He unbuckled the book from his side. This close, Viren could see how smooth the leather was in places, polished like glass from the hands of dozens of owners over what must have been decades, at least. Luca flipped deftly through its pages, the edges yellowed with age but still butter-soft, until he reached a point a bit more than a third of the way through its thickness. Then, bracing it on the low stone wall, he pulled a slim knife from his boot and set it to the book's spine between the pages marked by his fingers.

Viren's eyes widened. "W-wait—!"

He winced as the knife slid smoothly through the binding, snagging only briefly on the heavy stitching that held the pages together. The book fell into two pieces in Luca's hands, and he held out the thinner, front section to Viren. "Here. This will get you started—I know that part well enough, already."

Viren stared at him, his eyes darting between the mutilated book and Luca's face. The book was old, and well-made, and magic—there could be no doubt it was also valuable beyond comprehension. "I don't have—I couldn't possibly take something like that!" he protested.

"Not even in exchange for the meal?" Seeing Viren's expression harden stubbornly, Luca rolled his eyes. "Then call it a loan, if you like. Catch up to me in Evenere, and you can give it back."

He waggled the chunk of book insistently, until Viren slowly reached out and took it. He held it carefully, afraid to wrinkle the exposed pages. "I'll take good care of it," he said seriously. "I promise!"

"Good. I'll see you there, then." Luca bumped his fist gently against Viren's shoulder. "There's probably a spell in one of these halves that'll serve to stitch it back up again. We can learn it together."

Viren nodded, suddenly unable to speak.

Luca craned his neck, looking at the sky to assess the position of the sun. "I'd better be moving on, if I want to get up Mount Kalik before nightfall." He shook out the napkin and folded it neatly, handing it back to Viren. He bent to rummage in his pack, pulling out a rolled-up oilcloth blanket and cutting a rectangle out from one corner with his knife. Wrapping his half of the split book in the protective cover, he returned it to its buckles at his hip and tightened them firmly around its reduced thickness. The knife disappeared back into his boot.

Viren stood when he did, watching as he stretched before swinging his pack onto his back and settling it on his shoulders. He headed across the square, then turned and pointed at Viren. "Evenere, yeah? Don't keep me waiting!"

A grin broke across Viren's face, and he waved. "I won't!" he called back.

Luca raised a hand in farewell, then turned again and started down the street that led west, out of the town and into the stretch of farmland claimed from the forests that spilled down the mountainside. Viren watched until he was out of sight, holding the book carefully to his chest.

He went home more slowly this time, but not by much—mostly to avoid jostling the book too much. He leaned against the door after closing it behind him, staring at nothing as his mind raced. There was some time before he had to start preparations for supper. He looked down at the book, running a hand over the smooth cover before thumbing gently through the pages. The margins were littered with notes inked in a variety of hands, some so faded as to be barely legible, others recent and clear. He brushed his fingertips across them, smiling.

Grabbing a stylus and the pot of ink from his mother's small desk, he dragged a stool to the larger table where they ate. Perched there with the book set in front of him, he inked the stylus and held it in his mouth as he carefully pressed open the cover. In an open space in one corner, he wrote Kypar, Katolis City as neatly as he could. He drew a small star next to the note, to mark it as important, then frowned and squeezed in a question mark beside the name. He'd never heard one like it, and had no idea how it ought to be spelled.

Waiting for the ink to dry, he considered his next steps. His best bet would be to start working the bins where those too young, too old, or with bodies not suited for the mines separated rocks with iron ore from those without it—the pay was low but steady, and if he quit school, he'd be able to work enough to contribute some of his wages to the household and save a bit for himself. He wouldn't need all that much. Just enough to get to the capital and stay for a few days. Just long enough to convince this Kpp'Ar he would be a worthy student.

And if he couldn't—he chewed the end of the stylus absently, thinking. There was no sense in getting worked up over the possibility of failure. He'd just have to cross that bridge if it appeared in front of him.

He turned the spellbook to the first page, and began to read.

#the dragon prince #viren #kradogsfic #holy FUCK that was a shit week but this is FINALLY written #not me spending hours researching iron mining and steel production and then fudging like 90% of it but fuck it i do what i want #neither god nor wonderstorm can stop me

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I actually think it’s weird how many people are praising this as if it’s like the ultimate sign of him having the perfect relationship?? Like no offence, truly, but how unstable does that marriage of his have to be if that man feels like he can’t even do his job properly lest he be “disrespecting” his partner by doing so? 😭

I really don't know, nonny, and I don't want to judge someone who I don't know and whose personal life I have no knowledge of, I'm not in his bedroom (for the record I don't want to be, but Blake Lively, if you're reading this...) but yeah it does feel very... I don't know it does raise questions for me.

Frankly I'd probably wonder more about the state of one's marriage if this wasn't merely the latest in a concerning movement from people to misunderstand and co-opt legitimate conversations about consent and respect (including in the acting/filming space - intimacy coordinators becoming the norm is fantastic, for example) in order to re-introduce censorship and sexual shame. While I personally liked the second season of Bridgerton better than the first, for example, I was concerned that quite a lot of people were saying it was better because the second couple weren't fucking all the time. The lack of sex being the defining reason for people and the pearl-clutching over the sex in the first season was a really concerning issue for me that I think got lost in all the (understandable) love for a good slowburn and Kate and Anthony's relationship arc.

Censoring sex, having shame around sex, thinking that movies are only ever rated 'R' because of sex/nudity, acting like sex cheapens a film or story or that a sex scene in a film is the same thing as porn, are all deeply, deeply concerning to me. This doesn't lead to better conversations about consent, respect, and healthy sexual relationships. It just leads to trying to control people's bodies and shame people who want sex, and in case nobody's made the connection by now, historically the bodies and actions they most try to control are those of women and queer people.

I'm an adult. I have had sex before, I will have sex again, sex is a part of my life and the lives of the people around me. Even if you are asexual or abstaining from sex for another reason, sex is still a part of our society and should be approached in a healthy and open manner. Just because I don't live in a house and won't ever live in a house doesn't mean that I shouldn't fight to tax billionaires and reclaim the middle class so my fellow citizens can buy a damn house if they want to, y'know?

Taking sex out of our stories doesn't make them better and it doesn't make us more aware of consent or how to have a healthy sexual relationship. It only shoves sex back into the closet, out of sight and out of mind, never to be spoken about so we remain ignorant and scared of it.

Also frankly if you think sex scenes are in any way sexy for the actor you haven't actually paid any attention to how sex scenes are filmed. Someone - I forget who - once described it as trying to act sexy with a camera shoved up your nose. It's 8am you got four hours of sleep and there's 20 people standing around you making you feel like a goldfish. There's a sock on your dick. It's way too cold in the room. Someone's giving you instructions while you and your costar struggle not to laugh because you both look/feel ridiculous and also your neck's at a weird angle so that your face is in the lighting. Hell, from everything I've seen and heard, filming murder scenes is more fun for most actors than filming sex scenes.

That's not to say "all actors are miserable filming sex scenes so we shouldn't do them." I think every actor would agree filming a sex scene is more fun than filming a scene in the rain and mud for ten hours with a 2am call and it's January. You're gonna be in physically uncomfortable situations to film things, that's just how it works, but you do it because it's what you love, and you believe in the story you're telling, and at the end of the day you are still finding ways to have fun.

Anyway this got very long and very serious but basically I want to say that I don't want to speculate on the state of a stranger's marriage, although it does make my eyebrows rise, partly out of principle but partly because I really don't think it says as much about the man's relationship as it does about a growing and deeply concerning trend in our society.

#mads answers things #also this is basically my last word on the matter I'm not gonna go on about this ad nauseam #this is not against you nonny dear! #I just don't want ten more asks in my inbox taking up my entire day I have fanfic to write and a puppy bowl to watch

[blandwitt63]

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#Top Hà Tĩnh AZ #Ha Tinh

[justgenuine]

Federal paranormal agency

Paid preparers must sign and include their PTIN on the return. For e-filed returns, the ghost preparer will prepare but refuse to digitally sign it as the paid preparer.īy law, anyone who is paid to prepare or assists in preparing federal tax returns must have a valid Preparer Tax Identification Number, or PTIN. Like a ghost, they try to be invisible to the fact they've prepared the return and will print the return and get the taxpayer to sign and mail it. Ghost preparers get their scary name because they don't sign tax returns they prepare. It is important to file a valid, accurate tax return because the taxpayer is ultimately responsible for it. Knapp says he hopes the documentary achieves what they set out to accomplish with the book.WASHINGTON - The Internal Revenue Service reminds taxpayers to avoid "ghost" tax return preparers whose refusal to sign returns can cause a frightening array of problems. So this is a movie, but it’s also a historic moment where we get to break the news.” “Our film expresses that, and it also shows in the bonus features, very much in-depth, those connections and how that occurred. “That connection and the ranch being the hub, the center, the beginning and the reason for that 22 million dollars has not been expressed to the public,” Corbell continued. “This is the most studied paranormal hotspot in history, not only by private industry but also by the United States Government, by the Defense Intelligence Agency.” “People have not understood that connection,” adds Corbell. “I hope to clarify that there wasn’t just one Pentagon program, there were two,” says Knapp. The 22 million dollars that they allege funded AATIP, actually went to AAWSAP, the program that basically funded, that funded the study of Skinwalker Ranch and funded a much broader discussion, much broader than just UFOs. “And they sort of conflated some of the facts. “The New York Times put out the story in December of last year, about AATIP ,” Knapp explained. Even after Knapp’s reporting made Area 51 a household name, the US government did not officially acknowledge its existence until 2013. Knapp’s interviews with Lazar lead to the United State’s most secret base to also become one of the most famous. In the late 1980s, Knapp broke the story of a man named Bob Lazar who claimed to work at a secret base in the desert outside of Las Vegas back-engineering alien spacecraft. He is responsible for putting Area 51 on the map. Knapp is no stranger to breaking big paranormal related news stories. “And then, along the way, we continued to collect footage and didn’t really know if it would ever see the light of day. “It’s very satisfying, because I started working on the Skinwalker Ranch as a documentary product long before there was a book project in mind, and we had to stop it,” says Knapp. Knapp also attended the film screening and told Den of Geek he is happy they can finally share the story in a documentary format. “It really, truly is like a paranormal Disneyland,” says Corbell. The term Skinwalker originates from a Native-American legend of a malevolent shape-changing witch some believe wanders the vicinity of the ranch.Īt a recent showing of his soon-to-be-released documentary, filmmaker Jeremy Corbell told Den of Geek the phenomena reported at the ranch “range from UFOs to creatures to poltergeist-like activity, to cattle mutilations to all sorts of just bizarre phenomena that seem to be outside of what we call consensus reality.” Kelleher works for Robert Bigelow, the owner of Budget Suites of America and Bigelow Aerospace.īigelow has had a lifelong interest in the paranormal, and Kelleher has led several Bigelow-funded paranormal investigations, including the study of the ranch in Utah, which has been named by locals the Skinwalker Ranch. The 2005 book Hunt for the Skinwalker: Science Confronts the Unexplained at a Remote Ranch in Utah was co-authored by Las Vegas-based investigative reporter George Knapp and biochemist Colm Kelleher. However, the documentary further reveals that the Department of Defense primarily funded the study. A book of the same name, which covered the results of an extensive scientific investigation of the ranch, inspired the movie. The recent documentary Hunt for the Skinwalker chronicles disturbing paranormal occurrences that allegedly took place on a remote ranch in the Uintah Valley of Utah.

#Federal paranormal agency

[thefalse9]

2022 Serie A Preview: Monza

Last Year's Finish: Promoted from Serie B

Predicted Finish: 10th (Berlusconi Tax)

Odds To Win Serie A: 100 to 1 via OddsChecker

Prospects:

Monza makes their debut in Serie A, although it’s difficult to call them minnows even in their first foray onto the main stage. This team is bankrolled by former AC Milan chief and horny Italian Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi, and their CEO is Adriano Galliani, the pair who took Milan from near-bankruptcy in the 1980s to the top of the world before selling up 30 years later. They are back in the top flight and just as ambitious as ever, targeting at least mid-table in their first campaign, if not Europa League spots. Scary enough, they'll probably finish mid-table, and if things get weird, could even end up in the Europa Conference League. Calcio is weird and downright hilarious sometimes.

Coach Giovanni Stroppa remains – another former Milan face – but the squad is unrecognizable after 17 (!?!) signings this summer. Many of them are loans with an obligation to buy if Monza avoids relegation; including Italy internationals Matteo Pessina of Atalanta, Verona’s Gianluca Caprari, and Cagliari goalkeeper Alessio Cragno, while Stefano Sensi is on loan from Inter, joined by his free agent ex-Nerazzurri teammate Andrea Ranocchia. If all these obligations to buy are activated, Monza is going to face a huge wage bill next summer. They are ALL-IN when it comes to being successful, and if they don't finish in the top half or better, with European nights being ideal due to the extra cash influx ? Oh boy, things are going to suck for Monza. Admittedly, part of me is rooting for the crazy, horny bastard. "Make Serie A Fun Again."

Realistically, the worry before that point is the same as it was for sides such as Venezia, who tried revamping their squad after promotion, and then paid the price by not gelling in time. Big risk, big reward. To steal a phrase? " Fuck around and find out."

Transfers:

The whole team. Legitimately. Pessina from Atalanta, Caprari from Verona, Cragno, Sensi, Ranocchia, and god knows who else they are trying to bring in during the final days of the transfer window. Berlusconi is trying to win now and he is throwing all he can behind this team in some weird old-man quest to get back to the top of the mountain. They aren't done either. Arsenal defender Pablo Mari is finalizing a deal and Napoli striker Andrea Petagna is also finalizing a deal to join the club, with Napoli looking to unload him in order to bring in Cholito Simeone. This team is going to be the most watchable dumpster fire ever.

One To Watch:

Nobody was more excited when Monza got promoted than Pessina, because the Atalanta star is from Monza and returned right back to where his career began in 2015. He had a breakthrough season in 2019-20, followed by a star-making turn at EURO 2020, but lost his way along with the rest of Atalanta last term. It’s the ideal opportunity for the creative midfielder to find himself again and be the hometown hero with the captain’s armband, boasting probably more Serie A experience than any of his teammates. He's incredibly talented, technically gifted, with an eye for making the lethal pass to break-up a defense, has proper off-the-ball movement and on-the-field vision that had him on the lips and minds of many a European football club after that vaunted EURO 2020 performance.

Outlook:

Look, I don't care where they finish. I'm watching this shit. I'm watching them like a hawk to see if 17 new signings and a bunch of Serie A castoffs and second-chance saints can make good on their potential while bringing SILVIO FUCKING BERLUSCONI and all his "bunga bunga" back to prominence. It's such a weird team and a weird story that you would only see this in Calcio. Not to mention, Pessina captaining the hometown club and sticking it in the face of everyone who said he was overrated or a fluke would be absolutely romantic and fantastic to watch. Fuck it, I want them to finish 6th for the chaos. Realistically? They finish 10th, but they'll survive the drop, finish top-half of the table, and the wage bill becomes a problem for Future Berlusconi.

#monza #serie a #serie a preview #calcio #ac monza #berlusconi

[061890]

Asougi and Naruhodou’s speeches and localization

A while back when the Great Ace Attorney was first released, I made a post on my DGS Twitter on some… Not great localization changes made in the first Escapade in the game's DLC. Namely, the topic of Asougi's speech.

In the Dai Gyakuten Saiban subtitles channel's translation of the DLC, Asougi's speech excerpt is this:

"Now's the time to make a stand! All you young and elderly, gentlemen and ladyfolk of the downtrodden classes!"

In Japanese: 「さあ！ 今こそ立ち上がれ！ 低所得者層の老若男女よ!」

While the translation uses the phrase "downtrodden classes", the original text uses  「低所得者層」 specifically, referring to low-income working class people. This is relevant due to the fact that, in the late 1800s and early 1900s, rapid modernization and changes in Japanese labor relations led to the mistreatment of the working class. The emphasis on social harmony, along with censorship and restricting the right to assembly (which would later become criminalized in 1900), made it difficult to organize labor strikes.

And yes, while this DLC episode was very much a slice-of-life thing compared to the rest of the Great Ace Attorney, the original topics of both Asougi and Naruhodou's speeches are very informative of their characters and political views; Asougi especially, which makes the changes made in the localization even more confusing.

See, at the time, rapid industrialization was done in order to bolster the military, as the government believed back then that doing so was necessary at the threat of European imperialism; however, as real-life history shows, this directly led to Japan doing irreparable damage in its own imperialist conquest.

So, for Asougi to have given a speech explicitly in support of low-income working class people was not just him being anti-capitalist, it also very much had to do with him being anti-militarist and anti-imperialist as well. 

Him planning to say 「老若男女」 ("men and women of all ages")  —specifically, him mentioning women of low-income in the working class— also references how labor relations for female workers in the textile industry were mostly girls from poor families that worked in wealthy households in preparation for marriage. Similarly, Asougi acknowledging workers of all ages references how at the time, Japanese labor unions were more inclusive than that of the United States', as apprentices could join regardless of age and skill level. 

Kazuma Asougi is, to the surprise of few, an incredibly political person. In fact, his actions here and generally recalcitrant treatment of authority figures, parallel left-wing socialist views at the time:

"One ideological faction [of the early labor leaders] favored discussion and cooperation with management, avoided strikes and political issues, and tried to win higher wages through improved productivity. These were moderates who favored harmony between labor and capital. The other major faction favored confrontation with management, thrived on political issues, and embraced the strike weapon. These were the left-wing socialists." — The Birth of the Japanese Labor Movement by Stephen E. Marsland

Even the year wherein he gave his speech, namely, the summer of 1897 is relevant to Japan's labor movement and how Asougi's character is rooted in exploitation by Western powers. This is because in April of 1897, Takano Fusataro, a Japanese labor activist, wrote "A Summons to the Workers", calling for the workers of Japan to organize at the threat of being exploited by foreign capitalist powers. Asougi's speech even parallels some of it, but notably, advocates for confrontation now while Fusataro discouraged revolution and radicalization, instead advocating for gradual change.

From "A Summons to the Workers":

「立て職工諸君、立つて組合を組織し、以てその重大なる責務とそのの男子たる面目を保つを務めよ。」

"Stand up, you workers! Stand up and organize unions!"

Asougi's speech:

「さあ！ 今こそ立ち上がれ！ 低所得者層の老若男女よ!」

"Now's the time to make a stand! All you young and elderly, gentlemen and ladyfolk of the downtrodden classes!"

Note: Fusataro references men due to "Summons" being directed towards factory workers at the time, but Asougi's speech generally references workers of all ages due to having a different audience.

In sharp contrast, Naruhodou's speech is about filial piety:

"Let's all cherish our mothers and fathers!"

Asougi losing all support for what was considered a very gutsy and controversial speech when he made a single slip-up —that being the infamous tongue twister— where Naruhodou wins for a very simple, even boring, speech tells us a lot about how they're seen by society. 

Asougi in canon is considered arrogant and annoying by multiple authority figures —namely, Auchi— because he's outspoken about current events and politics; and while being 23 years old is very much an adult by our standards, in Meiji era Japan, one couldn't vote unless they were male, over the age of 25, and paid taxes of at least 15 yen per year. This was something that mainly landowners and ex-samurai could do.

Naruhodou, on the other hand, is initially a typical Japanese young man that conforms to the status quo. He dislikes going against his parents' wishes, and as his speech shows, advocates for an idea that's the standard in Japanese society. He's also notably apolitical, as originally, when he claims he and Asougi talked about politics over lunch, Asougi corrects him stating he only ever talked about comedy theatre.

Note: While Naruhodou uses the term 「愛国」 (あいこく, lit. love of one's country, basically patriotism) when talking about he and Asougi's "debates", from literally everything we know about Asougi's political views, I seriously doubt Asougi was being patriotic when he criticizes the government as often as he does. That, and the fact that Naruhodou is already a very unreliable narrator and doesn’t even remember what actually happened.

Similarly, in the Japan-only DLC episode for Dai Gyakuten Saiban 2, he chides Naruhodou for not keeping up with current events:

Asougi: "It sounds like you haven't been reading the papers, Naruhodou." 

Naruhodou: "N-No, not so much lately..."

Asougi: [...] "Defence attorneys didn't exist in our country until only recently. Our reputations are still as low as mud, being called shysters who make underhanded deals. It's stuff like this which makes us have to claw back the people's trust. You should read at least this much, Naruhodou."

Naruhodou: "Urghhh… Newspapers are too complicated…"

Now, to return to the topic of the Great Ace Attorney, Asougi in the localization instead gives this speech:

Asougi: "So arise, ladies and gentlemen, and applaud our forefathers' plight and the fight for filial piety!"

...Thus, making him losing to Naruhodou a matter of skill and verbal articulation rather than that of politics. While again, yes, the DLC episodes are very much just extra content, the fact of the localization changing this not only weakens Asougi's character due to him being a very political person, but goes directly against his character.

After all, his original speech was a call to action for laborers in a time where labor relations were based in a parent-child (oyataka and kokata) dynamic for employers and employees respectively. To have him say that when he originally challenged this authority is just plain wrong, especially when Japanese society expects one to defer to their elders and authority.

Not only that, but Asougi's motivations for traveling to London had to do with how he and his immediate family were killed or harmed because of the Professor ordeal. He makes no mention of being obligated by his family name, even when he tells Naruhodou and Susato about them, nor the idea of clearing Genshin's name of wrongdoing. After all, while Genshin supposedly being the Professor was concealed from the public, it still would have brought him and his family shame in the wider Asougi family as a result.

While the Great Ace Attorney being localized certainly brings many great things —accessibility, directors' commentary, etc.— to the Ace Attorney's audience, it has several flaws in its localization, and this speech thing is just one of them; one particularly egregious example being Megundal being made Irish in a time where they were racially discriminated against, not to mention the antisemitism in DGS1-3, but that's a post for another day. 

In the meantime, I can only wonder why this change was made to a character whose story is inherently rooted in questioning authority, and speaking out regarding Japanese politics and current events at the time.

#dgs #dai gyatuken saiban #meta #the great ace attorney #tgaa #kazuma asougi #tgaa2 spoilers #tgaa spoilers #dgs2 spoilers #this one's... a long one. my god. #localization unfortunately opening the floodgates for more super not great historically insensitive choices #i'll most likely write on megundal/mcgilded next since there's also a lot of stuff to unpack there

[iliveiloveiwrite]

A Truth Universally Acknowledged // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Hi angel! I love all of your stories, especially your Bridgerton and work! Is there any way you could write something soft and fluffy for Anthony and a female reader! PLEASE AND THANK YOU - Anon.

A/N: I haven’t written for Anthony in what seems like forever! As much as I love Benedict, I do love writing Anthony fics. This isn't overly long, I just wanted to write something soft and fluffy that’s entirely domestic as well. I hope you all like! Title is a quote from the first line of Pride and Prejudice (further quotes from the book are in italics).

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: none - fluff, books, marriage, happy relationships, cute.

Word Count: 1.6k

The house is silent as Anthony strides through the waiting, open door. He nods his greeting to the Butler, Wilkins, before letting the weariness that had haunted him all day settle over his bones.

“Wilkins?” Anthony asks; no need to voice the question. Wilkins knows.

“Lady Bridgerton is in the Green-and-Gold, sir.”

Anthony smiles at the Butler. “You really do know everything.”

Wilkins smiles; nods his head. “It is my job, sir. Lady Bridgerton has already told me that you will take your final meal of the day in there, too.”

Anthony takes the stairs two at a time; refusing to accept his laboured breathing by the time he reaches the top. He was not an old man yet; he was still a very active man.

Turning left, he wanders blindly to the Green-and-Gold room named for the colour scheme of the walls and the furniture. His late grandmother had decorated the room; so fondly remembered by her ancestors that each refused to change a thing in the room save for any upholstering that needed to be done occasionally.

He finds you sitting on the left hand side of the room; the comfier side as argued by everyone who visits the room. Your legs are curled underneath you as your eyes pour over the page of an open book in your lap. From here, Anthony cannot possibly hazard a guess as to what you might be reading, but he feels a twinge of jealousy at the attention being paid to the book and not to him.

Well, love makes fools of us all, Anthony thinks to himself. “Darling,” Anthony greets in one single breath, as if the sight of you makes it all the easier for him to breathe.

“Darling,” You smile, standing from your seat, coming to greet the man you love with every fibre of your being. “How was your day?”

Anthony groans as he removes his jacket before tugging at the knot of his cravat. “Long,” He complains, struggling with the neckpiece. You smile at your husband, batting his hands away from his neck so you can take over. You feel the heat of his gaze as your hands work to do undo the knot he had tightened with a single tug; as the fabric unravels under your nimble fingers your husband reaches out to squeeze your waist.

“Thank you,” He whispers, voice full with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. Love? Weariness? A combination of both? Anthony looked ragged as you run your eyes over his face.

“I’m sorry that your day has been taxing, my love.”

“It’s all the better now that I’m here with you.”

“Flatterer,” You tease with no real heat behind your words. Anthony beams at you; eyes crinkling in the corners from the force of it as his hands tighten on your waist and his head dips to capture your lips in the kiss he has been thinking about for the better part of his day.

Breaking away, Anthony plants one, two, three kisses to your lips in quick, chaste succession leaving you breathless and highly amused. “How was your day?” He asks, curious as ever to find out what his wife does when he isn’t at home to distract you.

“Dull,” You answer plainly, enjoying the feel of Anthony’s strong arms around you.

“Dull?”

You purse your lips, thinking over your plans for the day so far. “I suppose dull doesn’t work. It hasn’t been dull at all.”

“Oh?”

“I’m only saying it because I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” He murmurs, kissing you once more. “What are you reading?” Anthony asks when he pulls away, spying the book laid delicately on the couch.

“Eloise let me borrow it. She gave me it when I called to see her this morning,” You answer, leaving the comfort of Anthony’s arms to take your seat on the couch.

“Darling, you know we have an entire library full of books, don’t you?”

Fixing him with an unimpressed look, you counter, “Your sister read this and thought of me. The least I could do is read it.”

“Alright,” Anthony sighs, knowing a losing battle when he sees one. “Budge up.”

“Pardon?”

Anthony gestures to the couch. “Make some room for me.”

A puzzled look settles across your face, but you follow the request, nonetheless, shifting on the couch so Anthony has room to sit down.

Anthony settles with his head on your lap; offering you a self-satisfied smile when you raise an eyebrow at him. “Comfy?” You ask, voice laced with humour.

“Very,” He responds. “Will you start from the beginning? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Chuntering about high maintenance husbands, you mark the page you got to before returning to the beginning. “Anything else before I begin?”

“Nothing… Oh, one thing.”

“That is?”

“I love you.”

Any previous ire you felt towards your husband disappears at those three magical words. The frustrated slant to your brow evens out as you reach out to stroke a hand through his hair and down the side of his face.

“I love you too,” You answer earnestly, feeling the power of the emotion running through you.

A peaceful look crosses Anthony’s face as your words sink into his skin like a balm on an open wound. He had felt neglectful lately; not spending as much time at home as he would have liked. He felt bad for leaving you so alone. Without children, you were your own companion throughout the day, and whilst you had both discussed having children, Anthony was to be left mildly vexed at the thought of you spending your days alone until a child was born.

The opening of parliament combined with Anthony’s seat in the House meant that he was spending more and more time in Westminster and less time with you.

A ratio Anthony was not fond of.

“I’m ready when you are,” He whispers; eyes focused on your face so he can watch every reaction and see every syllable leave your mouth.

Flashing an annoyed look at your husband, you take a deep breath and begin:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“What?” Anthony asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hush,” You admonish half-heartedly before continuing.

“However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.”

“This author is a genius,” Anthony exclaims, his voice awed as he tries to catch a glimpse of the cover to see the author’s name. “Who wrote this?”

“Are you going to comment the whole way through? I’ve barely read two paragraphs.”

“Sorry, darling, but I have to know. Who wrote this?”

“Her name is Jane Austen.”

“Well Jane Austen is a genius. In two paragraphs she’s captured what it is like to be a single man with a fortune in and amongst the sharks with unattached daughters.”

“Sharks?” You ask, highly amused at your husband’s words.

“Mothers,” Anthony shudders, remembering what it was like to go through so many seasons still unmarried. A Viscount with two seats of power combined with a hefty ancestral fortune – many mothers didn’t care whether Anthony would love their daughters; they simply wanted a fortuitus marriage that would leave them set for life.

Anthony thanks any and all gods and deities out there that he found his love match in you. You had taken him by surprise; Anthony had already resigned himself to a season with countless mothers forcing their daughters onto his arm. Until one evening early into the season, he had been listening to Gregory whine about the workload at Eton when his eyes met yours from across the room. In a total state of cliché, Anthony met your gaze, and he knew. He knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life loving you, worshipping you. He knew that whatever his future held, you would be right there weathering it alongside him. In a single glance from across the room, he knew.

You were married before the season finished; a special licence dispensed after a favour from the Archbishop called in. Anthony couldn’t wait; didn’t want to wait – he wanted to start the rest of his life with you as soon as possible.

Your light laughter breaks Anthony out of his reverie. “They aren’t all that bad,” You argue. “I suspect you’ll be worse than me when it comes to our children.”

Anthony snorts; doubting your words but loving the way you speak so openly about your hopeful future family. Clearing your throat, you continue to read on.

Anthony settles further into your lap; letting the calmness of your voice wash over him. After a moment of watching the concentration on your face, Anthony lets his eyes slip closed. He has no intention of falling asleep; he simply wants to enjoy this moment to its fullest.

“Mr Bingley was good looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features…”

A snore interrupts your rendition of Pride and Prejudice. Pausing mid-sentence, you look down to your lap where Anthony has fallen asleep so peacefully. Smiling softly at the man, you close the book, placing it to one side before running a hand through Anthony’s ever-unruly hair. He hums contentedly, pushing his head further into your hand as you begin to scratch at his scalp.

As you watch Anthony doze dreamily, you feel your eyes lose the fight against the growing tiredness. Your hand stills in Anthony’s hair as you fall asleep alongside your husband, utterly content at the path your life has taken considering it led you to him.

*****

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagines #Bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagines

[justasecretwriter]

The Quiet One: Part One (Bucky x Y/N)

Summary | Y/N has been an Avenger for four months, and has gotten to know everyone pretty well--except Bucky. Nat is Y/N's best friend, and one day she points out how quiet Bucky is, which makes the entire team laugh and reveal that he's only quiet around Y/N.

Pairing(s) | James "Bucky" Barnes and Y/N (Female)

Story Warnings | Mentions of Torture/War, Alcohol, Possible Bullying, Fighting, Blood, Knives/Blades, Mentions of Guns/Violence

Series Warnings | Sex, Cursing, Alcohol, Drugs, Light/Heavy BDSM, Mommy Kink, Mentions of Torture/War, Possible Bullying, Fighting, Blood, Knives/Blades, Mentions of Guns/Violence

Author's Note | Had this idea for a while, and decided to make the Bucky character more like Sebastian Stan (the man who plays Bucky) and if anyone has seen Seb's interviews, they know that he's quiet and that the team pairs him with Anthony Mackie (Falcon) to get him to loosen up and talk. So, I decided to incorporate Sebastian's shy nature into the Bucky character, and I love it!

Enjoy! :)

Words | 2,205

Parts | Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Of all my time here, and all the words I’d heard used to describe him, why was quiet not one? Because above all, that’s what he was—quiet.

It wasn’t that he was rude or anything; when he did talk, he was polite as could be—a complete gentlemen. But the most I’d ever heard him say was, “How about that pizza place downtown? They still use the same sauce from the 40s.”

On the one hand I could understand, being a Hydra captive and then learning that you’ve been a murderer for the last seventy years would put anyone in a silence, but he didn’t seem unlively, just shy and untalkative.

One day while I was drinking with Nat, I looked out over the common room where a group of the guys had gathered to talk about whatever they all had in common. Thor, Tony, Steve, Bucky, and Sam were all down there, and after about fifteen minutes, Clint came in, grabbed a beer, and joined them effortlessly.

I wondered what that was like—to effortlessly join a group, make friends, and trick people into enjoying your presence with no work at all. My entire life, I felt like I had begged people to be my friend. This was why I liked being an Avenger; while it wasn’t as easy as Clint or Sam made it seem, they were welcoming and friendly. Over my time of being here, they’d become my family.

“They’re probably talking about sports, what do you think?” Nat interrupted my train of thought, tearing my eyes away from the group. She sat at the barstool next to me, sipping at a small glass of something with a yellow tint.

“Sports is a good option. But by the look of Thor’s face, I’m going to say war stories.”

“If it were war stories then Bucky would be more involved.”

“Yeah, but Bucky’s always quiet.”

She laughed so hard she grabbed her stomach, and my brows went together. I waited for her to stop laughing, but by then she was wiping away tears. I gave her a look as if I were questioning her sanity, and she giggled just a bit more.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, but Bucky? Quiet? Since when?”

“What? He’s always quiet. The only time I’ve ever heard him really talk is when he talks about baseball, and even then, not exceptionally long sentences.”

“He’s quiet around you maybe, but Bucky is not a quiet person.”

She didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t question it, but thought over it while she went back around to the other side of the bar, filling her glass up with what I found was lemonade and tequila. She poured me the same drink and slid it across the marble bar. I took it and went back to watching as the boys spoke.

Oh, they were definitely talking about politics now, because Steve was standing and talking loudly enough that I was able to figure out he was defending American democracy. When Clint stated that he hadn’t paid taxes in eleven years, I’d never seen Steve turn that shade of red, and it took Tony standing up to calm him back down.

I pulled out my phone, still thinking about what Nat said about Bucky. Why was he just quiet around me? Did he not like me or something? I was never a person to walk around eggshells though; if you had a problem with me, then just tell me. I thought that confrontation was essential in solving most problems.

So, I pulled up Bucky’s phone number, of which I’d never texted individually before and started to text him.

Hey it’s Y/N. Can you meet me in the training room in 5? –Y/N

I drank the rest of the glass and gave it to Nat, telling her I was going to get some extra training in, and then left. While I was walking out, I saw that Bucky was looking at his phone.

I changed into a tank top and shorts before wrapping my hands to do some boxing around the punching bag. The punching bag was my favorite of all the things in the training room; it was my outlet and where I laid out all my problems. It was my comfort release.

I don’t know what I liked so much about hand-to-hand combat, but it was my go-to. Weather I was using my fist, daggers, or swords, it was always my go-to. I rarely used guns, but when in combat, always had at least two with me. And while the bow and arrow weren’t my favorite, I was skilled in it thanks to Clint.

My favorite were the daggers. Loki had trained me immensely in dagger combat, and I hadn’t missed a target when throwing them in over four years. I’d only been in combat with the Avengers twice, but I was a warrior on Asgard for years before that.

I grew up in Asgard, with Thor and Loki. My mother was a maid, and my father was a cook, so I was born in the palace and lived there my entire life. When I was ten, I started joining my mother as a maid, but by thirteen I already knew that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life cleaning up other people’s messes.

I was rowdy and loud, I liked to get into trouble. I was constantly sneaking around the palace and squeezing into grounds I wasn’t allowed on. My favorite place to be, that was off limits to children, was the library. I would sit on top of the highest bookshelves for hours in the corner, reading poetry and Midgardian classics before someone would find me.

It was usually Loki who found me first, but he never told anyone I was up there. Loki was physically about four years older than me, so he was the cool, cute, older boy who I shadowed around when looking for some sort of influence.

My mother told me repeated that I needed to find a better influence, but Loki was fun and silver-tongued, and he never failed to get me out of trouble when I needed it. So usually when I was caught in the library by him, he’d climb up the corner bookshelf with me and lay against the wall with his legs spread, and I’d lean against his chest in between his legs while listening to him read Midgardian poetry for hours on end.

I thought about this while hitting the punching bag. I missed Loki. He started training me to be a warrior when I fourteen, and by seventeen, his father had offered me the job of a noble Asgardian soldier. I was a soldier for years before Thor offered me a position on Midgard, and after months and months of consideration, I decided a change of environment would be good for me. I’d never been off Asgard before, so it would be an adventure—and I never turned down an adventure.

However, though I missed Loki terribly, I at least had Thor with me. And it wasn’t like Loki didn’t visit. He came every few weeks, enough that he had his own room, and would train with me, hang out with Thor, and then return to Asgard.

Sometimes he’d stay a little longer, but that was usually just when he’d pissed off Odin over something.

I kept hitting the bag while I thought about Asgard. I’d been an Avenger for four months, and had only been back to Asgard once, for my birthday. I thought about maybe going back to visit soon, since we had no current missions and things were eerily quiet here in New York, but my thought was interrupted.

“I’d hate to piss you off.”

I spun around and Bucky threw a small grin my direction, leaning up against the matted wall.

“Oh, hey.”

“Hey.” He said nothing more, waiting for me to continue the conversation. These were how all our interactions went; short and straight to the point, never saying more than exactly needed.

“So uhm, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Again, he said nothing, so I continued. “I just, well I noticed that you’re kind of quiet, and when I brought it up to Natasha, she laughed and she told me that you’re only quiet around me, and so I just wanted to check with you and make sure that I haven’t offended you in any way or anything. We’re cool, right?”

He looked me up and down, and then looked at where I was bleeding through the wraps. I glanced down at them, feeling the slight throbbing in my knuckles. They always bled when I boxed, so I knew I’d just torn the scabs once again.

“Uh, yeah. We’re cool.” He looked back up to my face, and for what I think was the first time, made eye contact with me.

I smiled a small bit.

“Then why are you quiet around me, and not around anyone else.”

“I’m quiet with everyone else.”

“No, you’re not. You talk to them, and you laugh, and you tell stories, but when I’m there, you sit in the corner and recluse into your little shell. Do I remind you of someone or…?”

“No, it’s not that.” He sighed and pulled a metal lawn chair over, turning it backwards and sitting on it with his arms over what was supposed to be the back.

“Then what is it Bucky?”

“Well… you’re uhm, you’re very…” He stuttered and then quit talking, looking down. Was he blushing?

Then it hit me, and my stomach dropped. He was nervous.

“Bucky do I… do I make you nervous?” The blush deepened in color, and I knew then that no matter what he answered, I did make him nervous.

“No.” He murmured, and I rose a brow, making him backtrack. “Well, yes, but I swear it’s not like that. I—” Again, he quit talking and looked down, seeming to be trying to form his thoughts into words.

“Do you have a crush on me?” I felt like a child saying that, but that was the best and gentlest way to put it.

“Yes.” He whispered, still looking down.

“Bucky that’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” I even shocked myself when I said that. My voice sounded so nonchalant and easy-going. I sounded composed, which rocked me because I was most definitely not composed.

My heart was racing, and my lungs were tight. Bucky Barnes had a crush on me. I made Bucky Barnes nervous. Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. I made the Winter Soldier nervous. How? I was so insanely average. I wasn’t ugly, I knew that. But I also didn’t think I was gorgeous enough to make someone as handsome as Bucky nervous. I had nice lips and bright eyes, but other than that, average features. I looked like any other twenty-something you’d pass on the street.

“It’s everything to be embarrassed about Y/N.” His voice sounded hard and strained, but I couldn’t focus on that. That was the first time I’d ever heard him say my name. It sounded nice rolling off his tongue.

“What do you mean?” I felt like I was watching the scene unfold from third person point of view. My voice was too even, too normal to match the racing rate of my heart and lungs and the clouded feeling in my head, matching the same sort of vagueness that twisted in my stomach.

“Y/N, I’m one hundred and five years old. I’ve been through literal war; I was an assassin. And now I’ve got some what? Schoolboy crush? I mean come on; anyone would agree how lame that is.”

“You’re never too old to like someone Bucky.” He sighed and stood up.

“Well now that I’ve you it will make things awkward.”

“Who said it was going to be awkward?” He looked at me, a small glint of something that looked like hopefulness in his eyes.

“What?”

“Well, you didn’t even give me a chance to tell you how I feel about this whole situation.” He turned towards me, and stalked closer, making my stomach knot.

“How do you feel about this ‘whole situation’?” How did I feel about this?

“Well, I’m not entirely sure what to think about it. I don’t know you that well Bucky, it’s not like you’ve been avoiding me for four months.” He blushed, and I smiled. “But I’d be willing to get to know you. How about dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“Sure. A date even—if you’re willing.”

His eyes lit up and he smiled a small smile, seeming to try and hid it when he looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet around.

“Dinner sounds nice.” He answered.

“Cool. I’ll swing by you room at eight.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” He asked, cocking his head.

“If the boy were brave enough to ask the girl out, but since he’s not, then no, it goes my way.” He grinned and nodded.

“Fair enough. Eight o’ clock.” He started to walk back out, and I began unwrapping my hands. “Don’t be late Y/N.” He yelled from the hallway, making me smile.

#bucky #bucy barnes #Y/N #Female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #shy!bucky

[floralseokjin]

⊶ final sleigh (m). ⊷

You took an (almost) immediate dislike to Seokjin during his first week at the office and six months later that distaste is not only still going strong, but also mutual. Working in sales, you view one another as competition, so what happens when you’re forced to organise the Christmas office party together? It’s a recipe for disaster, but one thing’s for sure, it doesn’t end the way you imagined it...

(Spoiler alert: you don’t wind up murdering him.)  

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  au/genre/warnings; workplace/office au, enemies/rivals to lovers, starts off as a holiday au but drabbles further develop the story, rom-com, hoseok, namjoon, jungkook and yoongi make appearances, smut; drunk grinding, drunk kissing, workplace (oral) sex, storeroom (oral) sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, jin has a big dick (obv) words; 23,363 

continuing drabbles found here

Every year without fail you organised the office Christmas party at Jung&Co. As part of the office party committee it was of course a given. There were only two of you but as a workplace of just 12 that was ample enough. This year however, things were a little different, no matter how marginally. Joy was on maternity leave so you were now on your own this time around. Not that you minded. You could hold the fort no problem until she came back in January and you had to plan Creed, the quality assurance director’s birthday party. 

Only Hoseok, your manager didn’t see it that simple. Insisted you needed an extra set of helping hands. Who? Was your first thought. No one had ever offered to help in the past three years and why would they start now? However, you were forgetting something… or should you say, someone. A new someone who you were sure had been transferred here to make your life a total misery. It was like someone up there had it in for you, and you couldn’t think of one explanation why. You were a good person; you donated to a cat shelter every month, you paid your taxes, you were always helpful and friendly, amazing at your job… The list went on. In fact, you were the best damn sales rep at this branch, high above the rest – Well… That was until he showed up. 

“I’ll do it.” You heard Seokjin offer indifferently, as if he didn’t care a damn about the Christmas party. You knew he didn’t. 

You swung around immediately, your chair squeaking against the wooden flooring with the force. You scoffed patronisingly. “Pfft. You?” You had never heard anything so unbelievable in your whole life. 

Seokjin regarded you from where he sat in the back row. Hoseok had called a meeting this morning, needing to find a replacement for Joy as time was creeping up. it was a month until Christmas closure. The day the party was held, and he knew how much you liked to keep on top of things. You weren’t to be rushed. 

“Yes. Me.” Of course he was smirking. “Why? Got a problem?”

Beside him, Jungkook the intern, looked between you both unsurely. No doubt the rest of your co-workers were too. This had become the norm now. They stayed silent every time you and he started squabbling. The past few months had been one big whirlwind of bickering and rivalry. Seokjin was your biggest competition. He was also the thorn in your side. Ever since he’d transferred branches from his hometown six months ago life in the office hadn’t been the same for you. It didn’t help that your desks were also situated next to one another. You had to sit opposite his annoying face 8 hours a day, five days a week. It was a living hell. And now you’d be forced to spend even more time with him? Over your dead body. 

“No.” You folded your arms, still looking over at him from where you sat in the front. He wouldn’t win. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was successfully getting to you. “You want to organise the office Christmas party?”

Of course you were calling his bluff. He was 100% doing this to piss you off. You were certain. 

He chuckled. “I don’t know why it’s so unbelievable.”

You scoffed, growing frustrated. “You’re a guy!”

He raised one of his eyebrows. “Excuse me? Is that sexism I detect?” One corner of his mouth twitched. “Do I have to report you to Tim?”

Tim, the HR rep went to speak up, no doubt trying to pacify the situation, but already out of hand, you spoke over him, voice shrill. “Oh shut up, Seokjin.” Damn it, you’d bitten, hadn’t you? He was holding back his laughter. He knew what you meant. Your wording came out wrong, so you needed to correct yourself. 

“I’m just saying, you don’t seem like a guy who loves to party plan in his spare time.”

He grinned widely, as smug as ever. “Well, I’m full of surprises, baby.” 

Unimpressed you stared him down. “Do I need to report you to Tim for harassment?” 

You weren’t paying attention to Tim this time around but no doubt he looked lost. He was an older, quiet man who seemed unsure what he was doing here most of the time. Seokjin didn’t help matters. 

“For what?” He exclaimed. “Calling you baby? It’s a term of endearment.” 

“Not from you it isn’t.” 

Jungkook sniggered at that and you felt a little smug. Seokjin went to open his mouth, no doubt a clever comeback hot on his tongue, but Hoseok interrupted. 

“Guys. Stop bickering or neither of you will be planning this party.” 

You immediately spun around, facing the front. Seokjin wasn’t fucking this up for you. Although you didn’t think Hoseok would ever take that role away from you. He might have been your manager – and the CEO’s son – but you saw him as a friend. He never threw his authority around. 

You crossed your arms as his attention fell to Seokjin, silently huffing. “Jin, please tell us why you nominated yourself.” 

“Well,” he started his spiel, laying it on thick. You refused to look his way, even as everyone else in the conference room gave him their attention. “I love Christmas and I love organising things.” He made it sound so simple. Infuriating bastard. “I was always the person they counted on back home. I know how to throw a paaar-tayyyy!” 

At his holler, he and Jungkook gave one another a high five, whooping at each other like a pair of idiots. It was impossible to think that Seokjin was the same age as you, a whole five years older than Jungkook. They obviously shared the same mental age. 

“Well you’re not back home now.” You couldn’t help yourself, whipping around to tell him what was what. “I’m the one in charge here. I have the final say.” Sneering, you added, “You’d just be the help.”

Seokjin’s jaw twitched. You were irritating him now. You took great joy in that. “Hoseok said it was 50/50.” 

“More like 75/25 where you’re concerned.” 

“In my favour, yes.”

You felt your anger flare. “Hoseokkk,” you whined, turning your back to Seokjerk. “You can’t be serious letting him join the party planning committee?” 

You knew he was doing it on purpose. He had no interest in helping you – he just wanted to annoy you, to take over. 

Hoseok looked at you sympathetically. “Do you see anyone else offering to help, Y/N? Besides, it’s just for Christmas.” When you didn’t relent, he sighed. “You can’t do it all on your own.” 

You held your arms tight across your chest, pouting like a big kid. “Watch me.” 

“Impossible,” he chuckled softly. “You should be thanking Seokjin for being so helpful.” 

Men. They were all traitors. Of course Hoseok would be in Seokjin’s favour, they once worked together back at the other branch just before Hoseok became manager here. 

“Yeah, Y/N,” Seokjin called. You just knew he had that shit eating grin spread across his face, the one that plagued your nightmares – You could hear it in his tone. “You should be thanking me. But take your time, I know admitting defeat is hard for you.” 

You breathed deeply through your nose, reminding yourself to stay calm, else he’d end up throttled by the time this party rolled around… 

“Chop, chop!” 

From your peripheral you could see Seokjin stood over you, clapping his hands, his crotch obscenely eye level. You pursed your mouth and continued typing up your report that needed to be in by today. You couldn’t bear to look at him, still mad from yesterday, and no doubt he just wanted to annoy you some more – his sole purpose it seemed. What a sad little life he lived. 

“Y/N,” he prompted. You bit the inside of your cheek, exhaling through your nose. He wasn’t relenting, but lucky for you, lunch was in just over an hour. You could grin and bear him until then, surely? 

“What?” You snapped, beginning to turn your head. 

“We have our first meeting in five.” 

You mouth grew dry as you made eye contact, but it wasn’t because of what he said, actually you barely had time to register it, his pearly whites pretty much dazzling you as he grinned. 

You might have forgotten to mention a tiny detail about Seokjin, one you tried your best to forget, and tiny it was because it barely had an effect on you… Begrudgingly, you had to admit he was objectively handsome. Before you had taken that almost instantaneous dislike to him six months ago, you will confess that the first sighting of him had turned you a little weak at the knees. You were only human after all and you could appreciate a good looking face when you saw one. He even made Beryl and Michelle, who well into their sixties, giddy with a simple Good Morning – and he knew it. He knew how hot he was, which for you, just added to his overall lack of appeal. 

However, sometimes he caught you off guard. 

Like now. 

You swallowed with some difficulty, willing saliva to coat the inside of your mouth, and ignoring the way the crisp white dress shirt hugged his waist, tucked into those very well fitting black pants of his (maybe too well fitting…), you let his words piece together. 

“…Meeting?” 

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, what was he talking about? Hoseok hadn’t announced anything this morning. Was he just messing with you? You weren’t Jungkook. Those two might love playing pranks on one another, but you were actually mature in the workplace.

At the thought of Jungkook, you could hear him giggling up at the front of the office with the receptionist, Mina. How Hoseok hadn’t gathered they were sleeping together yet was beyond you. Actually, you were sure the rest of the office were slow to catch on too, but you maybe you had a clear (dis)advantage. You had to hear him and Seokjin discussing it more or less every single day – because men were dense and didn’t realise that no matter how low they spoke, a metre distance would not stop you from overhearing. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the Christmas party already?” Seokjin continued to grin – and that’s when you realised it wasn’t of the friendly kind. It was of the provoking kind, because he wanted to piss you off. “I thought this was your area of expertise.” 

You could feel your blood beginning to boil, your work forgotten on the screen. “You called a meeting without telling me?” 

He shrugged. “What am I doing right now?” What, mere seconds before it started? You really were going to end up killing him one of these days. “I booked the conference room this morning.” 

You grit your teeth together. “I organise the meetings.” 

“Get a life.” He scoffed, judging you hard. “Besides, you’re a bit slow on the ball, aren’t you?” 

“The party isn’t for another month.” 

“Three weeks and 6 days actually,” he corrected. Then with a wink, he added, “I like being on top of things.” 

You ignored his shitty (and inappropriate) innuendo with a roll of your eyes. “I was going to wait until Monday.” How dare he suggest you were unorganised. 

With another lazy roll of his shoulders, he started to walk off, towards the small conference room situated in the office. “You snooze you lose.” Turning back casually, he pointed a finger to your desk. “Bring a notebook.” 

Trying to laser through him with your best death glare you grabbed your notebook and stood up. He was treading on thin ice. 

.

.

“This thing sounds dry as the Sahara,” Seokjin wailed loudly, hanging his head towards his (blank) notebook on the desk. 

“Well you know where the door is,” you smiled. “I’m perfectly capable of organising this party on my own.” 

Actually, if he didn’t like how you celebrated Christmas here, he could leave entirely. You wouldn’t miss him, and the others would surely get over it. You didn’t understand why they thought he was so amazing anyway. His sense of humour was grating to say the least – as well as his overall personality. He was nothing but a glorified salesman who walked the walk and talked the talk. You actually cared about your clients. All he cared about was numbers to help him boast, even if that meant stealing –

Never mind. That was in the past. You were the bigger person, you reminded yourself. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Seokjin scoffed, turning to look at you. He’d insisted you sat next to him even though you had been quite happy to sit at the furthest end of the table. “This place needs some Seokjin zest. Add a little flavour – a little spice.” 

You dropped your head, muttering arrogant bastard under your breath as you picked up your pen to start brainstorming some ideas. 

“What was that?” He asked, obviously hearing you. 

You played dumb. “What was what?”

Thankfully, for the next ten minutes a very much welcomed silence fell over you as you both jotted down some ideas, although you were pretty sure Seokjin was just doodling at this point. Probably stickmen like the five year old he was. In between planning you threw a few texts your best friend’s way. 

(12:14pm) You: Remind me why we tolerate men again?  (12:15pm) Ana: For their dicks  (12:15pm) Ana: But only if they’re pretty and they know how to use it  (12:15pm) Ana: What’s up? (12:17pm) You: Guess who organised the first Christmas party meeting without telling me first 🙂 (12:18pm) Ana: Oh (12:19pm) You: Exactly  (12:19pm) Ana: Dick cheese   (12:20pm) Ana: Definitely not tolerable

You snorted at the mention of Seokjin’s nickname. Ana knew all about your very vocal disdain for the guy – in fact, she’d had to hear it all over again last night when you’d called her to complain about the very unfortunate turn in Christmas party planning events. 

“Is that work or party related?”

Frustratingly, your obvious amusement had caught Dick cheese’s attention. “Shut up,” you muttered, but you did hide your phone from view, placing it screen down on the table. Hopefully he hadn’t caught a glimpse at anything dick and cheese related. He was definitely the type to report you to Tim for workplace bullying. 

You turned to look at him, childishly taking great pleasure in the way a piece of his brown hair had bunched up on top of his head – probably from where’d he’d been itching, racking his pea-sized brain for ideas. He hadn’t noticed, and you weren’t going to point it out. He’d realise soon enough when he had to use the restroom – unless he didn’t wash his hands afterwards, which wouldn’t surprise you. 

“We’re in a meeting, save texting your boyfriend for lunch.” 

“I’m not texting – never mind.” You stopped yourself. There was no point biting. He wanted you to do that, knowing the insinuating tone he’d used would surely get you mad. As if you’d ever have a boyfriend, ha ha, very funny and original – NOT. He needed better jokes. 

“If you were actually bringing something to the table I wouldn’t be bored enough to get distracted,” you shot instead. 

He looked wholeheartedly offended. “I’m not the only one involved in this. You think of some ideas.” 

“I have been.” You replied loudly. “It’s the same process every year, okay? Theme, food and Secret Santa. That’s all we need to organise.” You’d already been through this. 

“So fucking boring,” he groaned slowly. 

“You’re wrong.” 

He snorted, visibly amused by your insistence. “And that Y/N, is why you are a square.” 

“You don’t even know me!” You exclaimed. 

“I know enough. I’ve sat opposite you for the past six months.” 

“Yeah, and don’t I know it,” you muttered. You had not known peace since. 

He laughed then, surprising you enough to make you jump a little. “Babe, are you ever going to forgive me for Rosal & Steinar?”

You glared at him. How dare he bring that up. It was a very sensitive topic, one you wanted to forget about because each time it popped up inside your brain you wanted to kick him – aggressively and relentlessly. 

Seokjin’s first week here had not been good for you. First, he had made you weak at the knees by just casually existing, then, Hoseok had introduced him as Jung&Co.’s best salesperson, and lastly, after being struck down with a terrible cold, you’d been sent home from work on the morning of your biggest client’s renewal day. Hoseok had insisted that you couldn’t sell stationary without a voice. You had claimed you could, but it wasn’t good enough. You were sick and needed to go before you infected anyone else. 

The following Monday, still snorting sinus spray like it was cocaine, you’d arrived at work to find out that Rosal & Steinar had renewed their contract… with Seokjin. Life couldn’t have been going anymore wrong. In the past month you’d had to deal with the guilt of breaking off a two year relationship, acquiring a new competition in your place of work that had ultimately already lost you your best client, and you’d gotten sick for the first time in four years. 

You blamed Seokjin. He’d been sent to curse you. (Although, admittedly the breakup had happened before you’d known of his existence… Not that it mattered.) 

That’s why it was now your life’s goal to become Jung&Co.’s best salesperson, because Hoseok’s opinion didn’t mean shit, and one way or another you were going to take down Seokjin. 

So yeah, no matter how much you insisted that the past was in the past, it obviously wasn’t. 

You raised an eyebrow, choosing to ignore his question. “What did I say about reporting you?” You weren’t his babe. Or baby. Or whatever else he liked to use. 

“Sorry,” he apologised, rather genuinely at that, which was surprising. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

You let out a short sigh. “Let’s just get on with this. There’s half an hour until lunch and I need to leave on time to meet my friend.” Neither of you had thought of anything solid yet. 

“Is that who you were messaging?” 

Seokjin seemed curious – interested? You couldn’t think of the correct word. Either way he was getting too friendly and pushing boundaries you’d rather not have him cross. “Is that any of your business?”

He shrugged, unaffected, and got back down to business. “Why can’t we just rent out a venue? Nothing is fun without any booze.” 

“We don’t do that anymore,” you answered. 

“How come?” 

You inwardly groaned. You didn’t really want to get into it, this meeting had already been a complete and utter flop, but you guessed if you told him why you no longer celebrated outside of office hours he’d understand and shut up about the damn office party. 

“It was a while ago. Before Hoseok was manager.” You began. “We used to all have Christmas lunch and then go out for drinks… and it was fun, don’t get me wrong,” you emphasised, knowing that he was just itching to call you boring. “But the last time we did it, our manager at the time ended up sleeping with the married receptionist and –”

“Mina?!” Seokjin exclaimed, interrupting story time. 

“No, not Mina,” you cried. As if Jungkook would be oblivious to the fact she was married, but then again, he was pretty dumb. He���d been here eight months already and still didn’t know how to photocopy properly. 

“Before her.” You stressed, noticing the shock on Seokjin’s face disappear. “They were both wasted but it was still no excuse. Her husband found out, charged into the office Monday morning.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Seokjin chuckled, obviously enjoying the drama. 

“He was ready to fight but it didn’t end well, because… our manager was a black belt.” 

You winced at the memory, remembering that morning very well. The initial shock, the screams, your manager morphing into the Hulk… the punches… the blood… It was crazy to say the least, and after Christmas you never saw the man again. Devin, the CFO, informed you he’d “moved on” by his own willing but you didn’t really believe that. Hoseok was his replacement. Mina was hired shortly after when Kevin couldn’t handle the stress of being an accountant and a receptionist on the side. 

“Brilliant,” Seokjin laughed, clapping his hands together. “So, the guy who’d gotten cheated on had the shit kicked out of him in front of the whole office?”

“Pretty much,” you nodded, still feeling a little sad for the man even though it was three years ago now – and you didn’t even know his name. “Ever since then it’s been a buffet in the conference room kind of thing.” 

Looking over at Seokjin then, you suddenly had the urge to add, “It’s safer. No one ends up fucking that way.” 

His eyes bulged and he broke into a little cough at the shock of the word falling from your mouth so easily, choking on his own laugh. “Fuck…” He went to repeat, only petering off last minute, shaking his head in disbelief.

You tried not to feel smug about it but you couldn’t help it. Lame, yes you were. 

“Fine,” Seokjin sighed, resignation in his tone. “Stupid fricking office party it is.” 

“I’m glad that we finally agree on something.” 

He just rolled his eyes at you. 

The next couple of weeks went by quite fast and slowly, in between work, you and Seokjin actually got somewhere with the party planning – surprisingly. At first he’d been adamant to separate each job between you, but that was only because he wanted to be in charge of the theme. You’d point-blank refused. As much as you hated it, you needed to work together as a team, so that meant making decisions together. Star Wars at Christmas wasn’t exactly something you agreed on, but neither was Christmas cats. (“You need to get laid ASAP”, had been his words when you’d suggested such an idea… but he didn’t really have a leg to stand on as a Star Wars fan, so…). 

Finally, after just over a week of brainstorming (and bickering), you decided on something: Family Christmas. It wasn’t the most original idea, but it was something, and you’d already thought of a bunch of things to do ready for it, which involved Jungkook getting his camera out and everyone dressing up in their holiday pyjamas. 

It was a Monday afternoon right now, an hour until you went home for the day, and you and he were making use of some spare time you had – making a list of all the decorations you needed to purchase. He’d dragged his chair over to your desk which you weren’t very happy about but what could you do? Sometimes sacrifices had to be made, especially when it came down to Christmas. 

“It was my birthday over the weekend,” Seokjin told you casually. 

“Oh, was it?” 

You could feel his gaze on your face as you scribbled down in your notebook. “Didn’t you see on Facebook? Everyone was wishing me happy birthday.” 

“Were they?” You said impassively, now aware he was itching for some attention. “I don’t go on there that much.” Why you’d accepted his friend request still baffled you, but you were always the bigger, better person in life. Plus, you’d stopped logging in months ago. 

There was a pause. Ahh, lovely, silence. What bliss –

“I mentioned it Friday too.” 

You sighed, turning to look at him. “Happy belated birthday, Seokjin. I hope you had a good day.” 

He grinned. There it was, what he’d been after. He was such a kid. “Thanks. I did actually, I went –”

“Is Hoseok around?” 

Your attention was stolen by the sound of someone’s voice – Namjoon’s voice, and you looked to the reception desk to see him stood beside it. You swooned a little at the sight of him; legs long enough to climb, a butt hard enough to crack walnuts with – chest too. Namjoon was the foreman of the warehouse on the ground floor. He was handsome, charming, and genuinely a nice person. You hadn’t seen him for a while, so you were definitely caught by surprise.  

“Yeah, he’s in his office,” Mina replied with a smile, watching his ass as he turned and started walking away. You didn’t blame her. 

“Hi, Y/N.” He gave you a dazzling smile as he noticed you, bypassing your boss’ office to make his way over. 

“Hi, Joon.” You greeted, unable to stop smiling like an idiot. “How are you?”

“Busy, he shrugged. Leaning in, you felt your pulse begin to quicken. “You don’t go clubbing anymore? I haven’t seen you around.” 

“Ana got pretty bored of it.” 

That was a lie actually. One you’d thought of on the spot. It wasn’t that you disliked going out, although you did feel too old for it now – the hangovers just kept getting worse – but when you’d started meeting up with Namjoon and his friends in the summer you’d been on a little Quest for Fun. You blamed it on the breakup. Now that you were over it, and had been for quite some time, clubbing wasn’t near as appealing as it used to be. You much preferred staying in and sitting in front of the television. 

“That shouldn’t stop you. I can always be your company if you’re lonely,” he smirked, that pesky dimple sending your heart a flutter. He always did this. Flirting came so natural to him, he was great at it. 

You heard someone clearing their throat to the side of you. Namjoon and you both looked over at the same time. Oh, right… Seokjin was here. You’d actually forgotten about him. 

“Hey, man,” Namjoon smiled politely. They didn’t know each other too well, but that didn’t stop Namjoon from being friendly. He looked down at your notebook. “What are you guys up to?” 

The question was definitely directed to you but Seokjin answered anyway. “Organising the office Christmas party.” 

“Ahhh.” Namjoon nodded, smirking your way, Seokjin once again forgotten. “Do I get an invite?” 

You smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you always?” He and the guys downstairs always popped up and joined in on the celebrations, but yes, okay, maybe you were flirting too… You couldn’t help it, not after what happened last –

“Namjoon?”

Hoseok’s voice interrupted your thoughts and you looked over Namjoon’s shoulder, seeing him stood in his doorway. 

Namjoon sighed, taking a step backwards. “I gotta go, business calls, beautiful. See you around.” Turning his back to you he started to walk off, only to glance over his shoulder last minute, shooting you a wink. “Remember, if you’re ever feeling lonely…” 

You giggled, giving him a wave and watched him follow Hoseok into his office. 

“What was that?” Seokjin asked, sounding absolutely baffled. 

“What was what?” You shot, now realising you’d turned to mush right in front of him. 

“That,” he exclaimed. “You and Namjoon all over one another.” He paused to pull a face. “I’ve come all over all queasy.”

“Shut up,” you brushed off. “We weren’t.” 

He looked at you as if you’d gone mad. “The looks! The winking. The way your voice went all high-pitched… Do you like him?”

“As a friend,” you stressed. Although, what was it to him?! 

He stared at you. “So nothing’s going on between the two of you?”

“No.” 

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” you shook your head, laughing in confusion. “I don’t care if you believe me or not.” 

Seokjin dropped it thankfully and you got back to your list, jotting down a few more things you needed. It was until Namjoon reappeared from Hoseok’s office and waved goodbye to you that Seokjin couldn’t contain himself any longer. 

“What?” You demanded when you heard him scoff to himself. 

“He definitely wants to fuck you.” He shook his head. “Trust me. I have a males sixth sense when it comes to that.” 

You could feel yourself growing mad. That’s why you ultimately ended up spilling. As stupid as it was. “Maybe he already has…”

It took a moment for Seokjin to make sense of your words. “W-what?” You could physically see when the penny dropped, it was actually quite amusing. You liked making him speechless. “You and Namjoon already… When?!”

You shrugged, feeling mildly embarrassed. “It was during the summer.” You tried to think of more things you’d need for this party but your mind was now a blur and Seokjin wouldn’t let you anyway.  

“You can’t just drop that and not give me details,” he cried. 

“Keep your voice down,” you hissed. Nobody knew bar Ana. Who had been the with you the night you and Namjoon had hooked up. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but you didn’t want the whole office knowing your business. 

Seokjin looked at you wide-eyed, patiently – or not so – waiting for you to explain yourself. You grumbled, not quite believing you were about to tell him, you didn’t want him knowing your business, but then again, it was a great feeling knowing that you’d shocked him. “I’d just… I’d just broken up with my boyfriend and I wanted to… let loose a little. It was just a one time thing.” 

But it had been good – amazing, actually. A repeat had never shown itself, but you were happy enough for it to be a onetime thing. 

“You have one night stands?” Seokjin asked, although you were sure it was rhetorical. 

“It happened once.” 

He wasn’t listening. “And here I was thinking you were a prude.” 

“Like I said before, you don’t know me.” 

Seokjin chuckled, amused by your attitude. It sent your insides a little jittery – but only for a split second – and it could’ve very well been annoyance. “So… How was it?”

“Excuse me?”

“How was the sex?”

“I’m not answering that,” you refused. 

“Why not?” He looked puzzled. “What’s a bit of hook up talk amongst friends?”

“Friends?” You repeated with a chortle. “Good one.” 

He ignored you. “Come on. I’ll tell you about the sex I had over the weekend. Birthday sex is always the best. One hook up story for another.” 

You pulled a face, unsure why the idea of Seokjin getting in on was so unpleasant, but then he laughed. It was loud, and partly squeaky. Contagious too. You couldn’t help but join in. “Go away.” You whined, pushing at his shoulder. You were not going into detail, palming him off. “I can’t even remember it.”

“Ouch.” Seokjin sniggered. “Don’t tell him that. It seems like he thinks about it every goddamn night.”

Pfftt. You doubted that. “I mean, it was ages ago.” 

“That shouldn’t matter, babe,” Seokjin tutted. “You never forget a good time.” 

“Are you purposely trying to be an asshole?” If he called you babe one more time, you swore to God…

“I’m not trying.” He smirked, face falling as he realised that hadn’t been worded correctly. “…Wait.” 

Okay then, he was just a natural asshole. Good to know. 

Begrudgingly, you had to admit you and Seokjin made a pretty good team once you put aside your issues with one another. With the theme decided, it was easy enough to get everything in place. Jungkook took the “family” photos you needed of the staff and you went to get them professionally printed, shoving them in frames ready to place around the office in preparation. Seokjin found a lot of the decorations needed, which was actually very helpful of him. You were so impressed you even agreed to let him decorate the conference room all by himself when the time came. The office was already overflowing with tinsel, the Christmas tree up, but the conference room was always left for the day of the party, the last Friday before the company closed for Christmas. 

Secret Santa had been organised too. Quite unfortunately you’d pulled out Seokjin’s name (see, you were cursed,) but you’d bought the first pair of cufflinks you’d found in the department store last week, so you didn’t have to worry about that for long. All that was left now was the buffet. And that’s how you found yourself sat in Seokjin’s kitchen on a Friday night, a week to go until D-Day… 

There hadn’t been time to look over the restaurant’s menu in work hours, and you’d given up trying to organise things over Skype with him. The first and last time you’d tried that, Seokjin had added Jungkook into the call, both of them getting ready to game. It had been a mess to say the least, so the only other option was to meet up after work. Seokjin had been the first to invite you over, so here you were. It wasn’t as if you purposely didn’t want him to step foot inside your home. He wasn’t that bad. 

His apartment wasn’t either… He lived with his best friend, an interior architect, which made a lot of sense once Seokjin told you. Unless you were confusing it for an interior designer, which you probably were – either way, this place was cool. And spotless. It smelt nice too. Always a plus. 

You were halfway done picking through the menu when his phone started ringing. You noticed him hesitate, as if he wondering if he should pick up but ultimately decided to after a few rings. 

“Hey mom,” he greeted, glancing over at you to mouth sorry. 

You shook your head to tell him it was okay and pulled out your phone from your hoody pocket, taking the break to scroll through social media. A text pinged through from Ana, wondering what dress she should wear tomorrow night when you went out for drinks. Every year you went out just before Christmas, despite how much you complained. It was mandatory now, but undeniably Ana took it a lot more serious than you. You had no idea what you’d be wearing tomorrow and wouldn’t until an hour before the Uber came to get you. 

“I know that, but I just can’t leave him,” Seokjin sighed beside you. You paused, having never heard him sound quite like that before. He sounded… serious for one. And frustrated. You replied to Ana quickly, trying your best not to overhear anymore – which was difficult. You were practically brushing shoulders at the kitchen table. 

“I don’t think he wants to come. He said he doesn’t even want to celebrate this year.” 

Again, you were doing a terrible job at this. Whatever this was about, you were beginning to feel rude listening in. But then again, if Seokjin didn’t want you to hear then surely he would’ve stepped into the living room. You were being a goddamn worrier. 

“Okay, I’ll speak to you soon, bye. Love you.”

Love you? Seokjin told his mom he loved her? The revelation caught you off guard, forgetting that he was off the phone now and as you heard him clear his throat, shoving the device into his sweatpants pocket, you jumped, copying and slipping yours back inside your hoody. 

“Sorry about that,” he apologised. “It was my mom.” 

“It’s fine.” You reassured. He sounded a little dejected all of a sudden, a far cry from ten minutes ago when he’d been laughing over the word vol-au-vent. You hesitated, wondering if you should ask if everything was okay? You felt a little awkward, as if you were pushing boundaries, but surprisingly he told you himself without any prompting. 

“She really wants me to come home for Christmas but I can’t leave Yoongi.” He definitely sounded exasperated now. 

“Yoongi?” You repeated, a little lost. 

Seokjin glanced at you, narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to guess if you were messing around or not. “My best friend…” He said slowly. “Y’know, the one I live with…” 

“Oh.” 

You fool. Now it looked like you hadn’t been listening to him. You had been, you really had, the name just slipped your mind momentarily. After only an hour… “Sorry,” you murmured. 

He shrugged, carrying on. “I kinda owe him one.” 

“How come?” The menu now laid forgotten. 

Seokjin sighed. “It’s kind of a long story.” You waited to see if he’d care to explain, although of course he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. “His girlfriend broke up with him about a month ago and he’s been pretty cut up ever since.” 

He wanted to. You listened politely, aware this was the first time either of you’d had a conversation very much deemed as serious.   

“I’m going to stay here with him because well,” he hesitated, glancing at you briefly. He seemed a little embarrassed but decided to continue. “He let me move in with him after my ex and I split up. He was there for me so it’s only fair that I’m there for him.” He finished with a rushed smile, reaching to rub the back of his neck bashfully.

The action was pretty endearing. 

“Is that why you transferred?” You asked, aware the conversation was straying but you couldn’t help it. The surprise of finding out he’d moved here after the breakdown of his relationship was distracting to say the least. You’d always pegged Seokjin as a guy who’d never been in a serious relationship – judgemental, yes, but they were the type of vibes he gave out. Maybe you just couldn’t imagine him settled down and in love. He was such a free spirit, never serious enough – although, right now he was... 

Possibly, you didn’t know him at all…

Seokjin nodded. “Yeah, I wanted a fresh start. Yoongi said this city was nice, so.” 

There was a beat of silence and afraid it would become awkward you rushed to say something of worth. “Break ups are tough.” 

God, that sounded a lot cheesier than you intended. 

“They are,” he agreed. “Although... I don’t know how yours went – mine was okay, sad but mutual. We just didn’t love each other anymore. Yoongi’s on the other had… He got cheated on.” 

“That sucks.” You empathised, before shrugging softly. “Mine was okay too. As break ups go.” 

Were you bonding? Bonding with Seokjin? Ludicrous. However, what was even more unbelievable was how normal and comfortable it felt… 

“How are you spending Christmas this year?” He asked, continuing to make conversation. 

“Well, I usually visit my parents too but they’re going to be abroad this year so I’ll just spend it with my friend Ana’s family.” It was all planned, they lived super close by so at least this year would be easy. 

He sniggered, eyes twinkling as opened his mouth to tease you. “Ditched by your own parents, embarrassing.” 

“Hey,” you exclaimed, whacking his arm just before you burst into laughter. 

He laughed along for a moment before growing semi-serious again. But just for a moment. “It’s actually going to be my first Christmas away from my family. It feels kind of weird but I can’t bring Yoongi along, he’ll bum out the atmosphere.”

You scoffed, voice filled with sarcasm. “You’re such a great friend, Seokjin.” 

He chuckled, opening his mouth to reply, but just as he did you both heard the door in the entry way opening, footsteps sounding. You guessed Yoongi was back home. Not long after, a black haired man came into view and Seokjin moved, cool air filling the gap. You realised just how close you’d been sat together. When had that happened? 

“Hey Yoongi,” Seokjin smiled. Yoongi raised a hand. “This is Y/N, my co-worker. You’ve heard me talk about her before, right?” 

Huh? Whining about you, no doubt… 

“Oh... yeah.” Yoongi’s eyes travelled to yours, a small smile upturning one corner of his mouth. “Hey, how’s it going?” 

“Hey,” you returned his smile. “Nice to meet you.” 

“How was work?” Seokjin asked. He sounded… concerned? That was sweet. 

Yoongi shrugged. “Fine. Had an appointment with a client.” Silence. He was a man of very few words. You liked it. “I’m going to my room, have fun planning that Christmas party.” 

Of course. That’s why Yoongi knew about you, Seokjin had told him about the party planning… 

You waved him bye, and then, once you’d heard him make his way upstairs, Seokjin turned to you. “See? Bums out the atmosphere.” 

“What atmosphere?” You joked. “No, but he seemed okay, considering…” Yes, his shoulders were a little slumped, as if he was carrying the whole world on them, but who knows, that could’ve been a thing before the breakup… He had sort of smiled at you… 

“Yeah…” Seokjin agreed, before pausing and raising an eyebrow. “Maybe he liked what he saw. You could always do me a solid and try to cheer him up for me.” 

You puzzled, unsure what he was getting at. 

“You know, like Namjoon did for you…” 

“SEOKJIN,” you yelled, jaw dropping in shock. “What the hell is wrong with you?” It wasn’t funny. 

He squeaked a laugh. “I’m just messing around, don’t worry. I don’t want you to sleep with Yoongi. That would just be weird. Besides,” he added as an afterthought, smirking mischievously. “You’re too boring.” 

He was trying to tease you again, wanting you to bite. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. 

“I wouldn’t touch any of your friends,” you shot instead. “They’re tainted by default.” 

Seokjin chuckled softly, shaking his head from side to side as he began to study the menu again. 

“You ladies have a couple of admirers,” the waiter grinned as he placed two white wine spritzers on your table. 

Ana squealed, taking one of the glasses immediately. “Where?” 

You’d only been out barely an hour, already in your second bar, but even you had to admit the thought of someone buying you a drink was a little exciting. You followed the waiter’s hand to a booth across the floor, anticipation pumping through your veins only to be thoroughly disappointed when you recognised one of the faces – well, both faces actually, but you’d only been acquainted with the second yesterday…

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned. 

“What?” Ana asked mildly confused, waving off the waiter with a thanks. “What’s wrong? They are so hot!”

“That’s dick cheese and his friend!”

“Wha–The guy you work with?” Your best friend sounded flabbergasted. “Which one is dick cheese? Although I wouldn’t kick either out of bed…” 

“Ana!” You hissed, taking another glance at the booth. Seokjin waved at you wildly, an obnoxious grin on his face. You grumbled. “He’s the one on the left.” 

“Oh, fuck.” She waved back, much to your annoyance. “No wonder he gets you so angry.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You were confused. Enough to not realise when she stood up, making a beeline for their booth. “Wait–Ana! Where are you going?!”

She didn’t bother to look back as she replied. “I’m going to say thanks, duh.” 

.

.

And that’s how you found yourself well on the way to Drunksville. You were only supposed to get tipsy tonight, knowing you’d pay for anything more in the morning, but well, you’d moved onto a club down the road and the drinks kept coming, and as much as you hated to admit it, hanging out with Seokjin and Yoongi was actually pretty enjoyable. Although, no matter how much fun you were having, it wasn’t enough to stay on the dancefloor for too long. 

“Hey,” you greeted Yoongi, slipping inside and around the booth to slump down next to him. Dancing couldn’t have been his cup of tea either because he’d given up way before you had. Seokjin and Ana were still going strong out there. 

You downed what was left of your drink, willing yourself to cool down as you huffed and puffed. God, you were drunk. 

“Are you okay?” He chuckled. 

You smiled. You liked Yoongi. He was nice, quiet – you liked quiet. “So, tell me,” you wondered, eager to understand something.  “How’s a guy like you friends with Seokjin?”

Yoongi’s forehead creased. “What do you mean?” 

Shrugging, you bit back a hiccup. “You seem normal, he’s…” What was Seokjin again? You could usually come up with a million and one (not so nice) words to describe him but the room was slightly spinning and your brain came up blank. 

Yoongi understood you anyway, laughing as he replied.   “He can just seem that way at first, it’s the nerves. They make him act up.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Nerves?” What did that mean? You could never imagine a nervous Seokjin. He was always so sure of himself. 

Yoongi didn’t clarify. “Me and him are actually very similar. Annoying little shits when we want to be,” he laughed, before hesitating, “I’m…I’m a little injured right now, that’s why I seem a lot more subdued.”

“Oh,” you murmured, hoping you didn’t come off as condescending. “Yeah, Seokjin told me about your breakup. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.”

“You seem a lot happier tonight though,” you offered. Happier than yesterday evening.  

“It’s called alcohol,” he grinned, bringing his glass up to his lips. He paused. “Y’know, he’s pretty cool once you get to know him.” It took you a second to realise he was talking about Seokjin. “He’s a great person.”

You shrugged slightly. “He’s okay.” What did it matter what you thought anyway? Seokjin definitely didn’t care. 

“He likes to joke around, I admit, but it seems to make you laugh, so.” Yoongi smirked slightly and tilted his head, taking a took a sip of his beer. 

Taken aback, you tried to think. Had you been laughing with Seokjin all night? Maybe laughing at him was a better way to describe it… 

“What are you guys talking about?”

You jumped when you heard a familiar loud voice and looked up to see Seokjin leaning over the table, four shots balanced between the fingers of both hands – two in each. His face was flushed, redder than you’d ever seen it – he’d obviously had enough of dancing too.  

“Nothing,” Yoongi replied smoothly. He stood up, finishing his drink. “I’m uh, I’m going outside for some fresh air.” 

“But I got us shots,” Seokjin complained. 

Yoongi looked over at you and smiled before tapping Seokjin on the shoulder. “I’m sure you and Y/N will make good use of them.” 

Hm… Everyone was drunk and acting weird. Not that you had time to contemplate it because immediately Yoongi had gone and Seokjin was taking his seat next to you. His cologne hit you. It was different to usual, you’d realised instantly earlier in the night. 

“Where’s Ana?” You asked. They’d both been dancing together when you’d left them. 

He shrugged as he handed you a shot. “I don’t know, lost her on the dancefloor.”

You hesitated. Should you have more to drink? The shots might push you over the edge. But… you were having fun. It was one night out, you might as well do it properly. So quickly you downed the shot, smirking Seokjin’s way as you picked up another. “I’ll have hers then.” 

He grinned slowly before scoffing as you choked. That shit burned, and you might have been able to handle the first shot no problem but this time your eyes watered and your throat screamed. 

“Seems like you’re trying to prove a point,” he laughed.

“What do you mean?” You demanded, already feeling more lightheaded. 

He didn’t care to explain, instead doing his two shots straight after the other, able to handle them with just a wince. “What do you think of Yoongi?” He asked, barely giving the liquid time to slip down his throat. 

“Huh?”

“Do you like him?”

You shrugged, confused as to why he was asking you. “He seems nice, yeah.”

“So, you like him?”

You froze. “Are you still trying to hook us up? I don’t like him like that.” You didn’t even know him. 

“No, no,” Seokjin rushed. “I wasn’t trying to… never mind.” He shook his head, changing the subject. “So who did you get for Secret Santa?”

“I’m not telling you,” you huffed, pushing his shoulder. 

“That means it’s me.” 

“Seokjiiin,” you whined, leaning into him as you nudged him once more. 

He laughed, looking a little surprised by your sudden affection – however unintentional. “I think you’re drunk.” 

…Maybe those shots were a bad idea, you’d only get worse… 

.

.

“Should we go and look for Yoongi and Ana?” Seokjin asked, checking his watch. 

You’d been sat together for a while now, conversation coming surprisingly easy. It was nonsense mostly – you might or might not have helped Seokjin with some festive ideas to prank Jungkook with – but Ana hadn’t come back from the dancing yet, and Yoongi was still outside – unless he’d done a runner, which was highly probable according to Seokjin. So it was probably best you both went to look for your friends. 

You followed closely behind Seokjin as you searched through the club and at one point he reached for your hand, helping you through a large group of people. His grip was warm and oddly gentle, but you didn’t have time to think about it too much as he’d already let go. He waited for you as you checked the restroom, but your best friend was nowhere to be found. It was probably the alcohol in your system but you started to get a little worried, especially when your text went ignored. Seokjin seemed to notice. 

“Stay here, okay? I’m going to check outside. I don’t want you to freeze to death.” He told you, having to practically shout in your ear the music was so loud in this area. 

You found yourself a little touched by his concern, no matter how small it was and listened, clutching your purse to your middle. You were in a black mini dress after all, your arms barely covered. You still had the perfect view of him though, able to watch him step out the building and look down the road. You noticed the concern on his features slowly turn into shock, his mouth dropping open, and you frowned. What the hell had he seen?

“Seokjin!” You called, which was pretty useless. He couldn’t hear a damn thing. You could barely hear yourself. You rushed forward. “Seokjin?” You pushed your way past some people who had clogged up the entry way and dashed down the stone steps. “What is it?”

The winter air hit you instantly. It was fucking freezing. Seokjin still looked in shock, glued to the spot and you grew frustrated, stopping right beside him. “What?” You demanded. “What’s going on?!” 

You followed his line of vision, and immediately you were positive your expression matched his. A little down the road, up against the wall, Yoongi and Ana were wrapped around one another, attached at the mouth. You were speechless, the cold no longer a problem. 

“Let’s not interrupt them,” Seokjin said suddenly, taking you by the hand once again to drag you back inside. (Your feet honestly wouldn’t work.) 

The instant heat got your blood pumping again, although the music did nothing for your whirring head. “What did we just witness?” You turned to him and asked (shouted). 

Seokjin still looked just as shocked, but he managed a joke, wrinkling his nose up. “Ew, what if our friends start dating? I’ll be stuck with you forever.” 

“Grow up,” you rolled your eyes, before randomly taking in the sight of him. How wasn’t he melting to death? The guy was in a fuzzy Christmas sweater. Actually, an even more important question; how hadn’t he electrocuted himself? The reindeer on his chest lit up. If one drop of sweat got into that hidden battery pack he was done for, surely?

“I thought you’d be saving that jumper for Friday,” you commented (yelled), quite honestly in a daze. You were drunk, in absolute shock, toes frozen, and somehow you were stood with Seokjin making conversation about Christmas jumpers. 

“Who says I don’t have a whole drawer full of the festive fuckers. I did say I loved Christmas, no?” He laughed.

You joined in. “I thought you were bullshitting.” 

“Of course you did.” He said with a small smile, shaking his head a little. 

“I can’t believe we caught them kissing.” You couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Seokjin wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “They’re probably doing more than that by now.”

“Shut up.” You whined. “Wait. Do you think he told her about the breakup?”

“What?” Seokjin asked you to repeat, leaning in slightly, unable to hear you properly above the music. 

“Do you think she knows he’s on the rebound?”

Seokjin shrugged. “Maybe. Who cares.” 

“I care!” You exclaimed causing him to wince because you’d accidentally shouted in his ear. “Ana’s my best friend!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes slightly. “I thought you of all people would know people can just fuck with no strings attached.” 

“Will you ever drop that,” you deadpanned. Your hook up with Namjoon happened so long ago now, you barely even thought about it unless you saw him at work, which was pretty rare anyway. 

“Nope.” The way the sound of the p popped off his lips annoyed you. 

“What about you?” You asked, changing the subject from you. “No getting lucky tonight? Is Christmas sex not on par with birthday sex?” 

He burst out laughing. “I’d say it is, yeah, but I still have a couple of weeks to make it happen, so ask me then.” 

His answer almost annoyed you more and you couldn’t place why. He was just being stupid, classic old Seokjin. You should be used to it by now. 

“Come on,” he winked, stepping forward, towards the middle of the club and his hand cupped your elbow. “Let’s dance!” 

“No, no, no,” you immediately refused, grabbing his hand to stop him. 

“Pleaseee,” he pleaded, eyes wide. “I want to dance with you. You’ve hardly been on the floor all night.” 

Oh. Your heart did a little flip inside your chest. Maybe it was the tequila making its way back up your body… 

“Come on,” he chuckled, not giving up. “It’ll warm you up.” On cue both of his hands lifted and he started rubbing your shoulders. “I told you not to come outside. Now we both have the mental image of Yoongi sucking face stuck behind our eyelids and you’ve got frost bite.” 

You giggled, but still wouldn’t relent. He could stay here warming you up for the rest of the night if he wanted… Dancing made you sweaty. 

He tilted his head, giving you a look. “Y/N, do you want me to call you boring again?”

And just like that you wanted to prove him wrong… You were a sucker. He knew what he was doing. 

Only, the second round of shots for some Dutch courage were probably a bad idea. Your idea, but a very bad one, nevertheless. The dancefloor seemed to be stickier than it was an hour ago – and busier. It was packed and loud, which worked to distract you from how drunk you were. 

Seokjin could move. You hadn’t realised earlier, not really paying attention as you’d danced with Ana instead, but with just the two of you left you let him embarrass the hell out of you on the floor. At first it was definitely on purpose; he pulled the largest, wackiest moves that you begged him to stop, but soon enough he had you dying of laughter, so he continued, your amusement spurring him on. And then drunk you had to join in… 

“You know what? You’re actually pretty fun once you loosen up,” Seokjin yelled above the music, his hands somehow having found their way to your hips as you both snaked them to the beat. 

“I’m always fun,” you informed him, your breath fanning across his face as you lifted your arms in the air. “You just only know work me.” 

He smiled. “Well, I don’t know, I think I’m getting to know normal you lately…” 

You snorted some type of noise. “That’s what you think!” 

He went to open his mouth to argue but you spun around, your back pressed to him as you continued to sway. Your skin was hot to the touch, too many bodies cramped in this small space, but you loved the feeling of Seokjin’s hands on your hips, even more so when they slowly inched up your waist. You flung your arms back, looping them around his neck to pull him closer. It had been a long time since you’d danced with a guy like this. Not even Namjoon. Not even your ex. 

You could feel how boiling he was too, a thin layer of sweat coating the back of his neck, and as you ran your fingers through his slightly wavy hair he let out a little groan. It was extremely quiet, would’ve gone unnoticed if his mouth wasn’t hovering by your ear, but now you’d heard it and it changed everything. Something exploded inside your chest, fresh heat prickling your skin and you found yourself pushing into him further, grinding in a small circle. 

The dancefloor was full of couples like this so no one took any notice. But Seokjin did. He froze, as if he was sure he’d imagined it, so ever so carefully you did it again. This time he knew his drunk mind wasn’t playing tricks on him and after a slight hesitation his hands slid to your hips again, gripping them tighter. He let you grind against him, but didn’t reciprocate, he just kept dancing to the music, which seemed to turn you even braver. 

With the bass of the music pumping through your body you moved back and forth against his crotch, hearing his breath get shallower and shallower. It was addictive and you were chasing the feeling before you knew it, bold and finding yourself getting more turned on by the second. It wasn’t long before you began to feel him grow hard against your ass, and even though surprised, you still carried on, loving it. 

“Y/N,” he murmured against your ear, sounding out of breath. You circled your hips again. This time he couldn’t help but push back. “It’s getting late.” His voice faltered. “You’re drunk. I’m drunk.” 

You frowned to yourself. What was he trying to say? You felt his hands leave your hips, reaching for your arms around his neck to slide them away. He was trying to get you to face him. He was still half hard in his pants but he ignored it. 

“You’re drunk,” he repeated, as if it was some sort of answer, some sort of reason. He started to twist you his way but you tripped, falling into him. “Definitely drunk,” he chuckled, tugging his hands off your waist from where he’d caught you. “It’s time to go home.” 

“I don’t want to go home,” you pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck. You went to push your body into him but he angled away from you, creating distance. 

“You need to go home,” he laughed. It sounded awkward. “Think of that hangover tomorrow.” 

“I will,” you shrugged, “tomorrow.” 

Seokjin stared at you, his brown eyes wavering slightly. They were darker than usual, swimming with something that made your belly flip, but he steeled himself, holding strong. “Come on,” he pressed. “We can share an Uber.” 

“It’s fine.” You muttered, disappointed for some reason. You were unsure how he could hear you above the music, but he did. “I’ll find Ana.” 

He chuckled. “Ana’s definitely gone by now. Don’t you remember what we caught her doing?”

Oh. 

He was right. 

Damn your best friend. 

.

.

You didn’t remember much of the Uber ride home, the sudden departure from the club had brought deafening silence and you were now very aware of how much your head was spinning. Your bed was calling you – your warm, cosy, king sized bed… However, you took one look at Seokjin as he helped you out of the car and all that became forgotten. 

You clung to his jumper, voice still loud despite there being no music now. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He replied carefully, chuckling. “Sober you definitely doesn’t want me in your apartment.”  

You reached forward, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes and giving him what you hoped was your best smile. “Drunk me does.” 

He held your stare for a moment, searching long enough to see something that made him make up his mind. “Fine,” he sighed lightly, bending down into the car to talk to the driver. You were barely listening, looking up at the stars, but Seokjin held your hand tightly, keeping your heels rooted to the ground. 

“Keep this thing running, I’ll be back in five.”

“That’s gonna cost you, my friend.” 

“It’s fine.” Another sigh. “Just– stay? I won’t be long.” 

It took you a couple of minutes to get through your door, Seokjin had to open it in the end, and he followed you in, a respectable distance behind you. He closed the door quietly, smiling when you turned back to look at him as you kicked off your shoes. 

“Okay, you’re home safe now. I’m just going to go, see you Monday, okay?” 

“No, don’t go,” you bemoaned, closing the distance to cling to him once again. In your drunken state you couldn’t place why you wanted him to stay so bad. All you knew was that you did. 

He sighed again, lifting his hands to clasp over your wrists in an attempt to move you away. He looked and sounded torn. “Y/N, the Uber’s running. I’m going to end up paying double to get home.” 

You shrugged. “Tell him to leave then.” 

He closed his eyes and exhaled, it sounded like a whimper. “What are you doing to me?” He murmured, but you were barely paying attention, swaying where you stood. He noticed and groaned. “You’re so drunk!” 

“Am not.” 

He laughed, genuinely amused, and if your drunk mind didn’t know any better it sounded as if he was endeared by you. He shook your shoulders lightly. “Look at me.” You couldn’t quite focus. He cupped your face instead, laughing louder as he angled you to stare straight into his eyes. “Look at me. You are so out of it.”

You just grumbled, but warmth fluttered through your body. It felt good to be touched by him. You thought back to the dancefloor, the way you’d been pressed up against his body. Your mouth parted, suddenly thirsty. Really thirsty. But for what? 

“Can you even make out my face?” Seokjin asked, continuing to be amused. 

“Of course,” you snapped, fingers reaching for him. “There’s your hair,” – You ran your fingers through the dark brown locks – “your eyes... nose…” He let you poke his eyelids gently and then you bopped his nose.

“Get offf.” He snorted softly. 

And then your attention fell to his mouth. Those plump, deep pink lips that were opened and slightly wet from where he’d been swiping his tongue across them. You swallowed, hands cupping his jaw. “Your lips –” 

You dove before you knew what you were really doing, pressing your mouth to his, taking him by surprise. Not a second later he was pulling back, holding you at arm’s length. “Woah, woah.” He chuckled in surprise, but his voice wavered. “Not the time, Y/N. Trust me.” 

You frowned, annoyance spiking and you shook him off. “What? So you’ve suddenly turned chivalrous now?” Scoffing, you felt like an idiot – upset and embarrassed, you spoke without thinking. “Or do you just not want me?”

Something flashed across Seokjin’s face. He looked irritated. Sounded it too when he replied. “Of course I fucking want you.” You froze. Huh? However, you didn’t have time to think about what he’d said before he was striding towards you, backing you up against the wall.  You gripped the tops of his arms on instinct, looking up at him as he loomed over you, hair falling into his dark eyes. They were the same colour as they had been back at the club – when you’d been grinding all over him. Your breath caught. 

“Ever wondered why you frustrate me so much?” He rasped. 

Something inside you screamed. Not that you had time to realise because immediately his mouth was on yours. Each press of his lips was rushed, as if he was acting on instinct and all you could do was cling to him and try to keep up. You let out a moan when you felt his tongue attempt to push past the seam of your lips and you let him in, moaning louder when the wet muscles clashed together, the dam now broken. 

It was contagious. Seokjin grunted against you, throatier than you were expecting, noises so unlike him your whole body burned in desire. Actually, it was on fire. It started to crave him, the feeling so strong all you could do was let it take you. You yelped when his hands curled around your ass, giving you one strong push and you promptly jumped into his arms. He caught you effortlessly and you wrapped your legs around him. 

By God, he was strong. He crashed you into the wall, mouth still hungry as he ground his crotch into yours. The skirt of your dress had ridden up to your waist, your underwear the only thing protecting you as he rubbed you against his dick. Which was hard again – very hard. Maybe he’d had a semi the whole car ride home, which was a thought that got you moaning louder inside his mouth, your tongues getting messy, your teeth clashing. 

“Seok-jin,” you whimpered. Your core tingled, hot to the touch and you could feel your arousal beginning to pool against the lace of your thong. You wanted him – no, you needed him. “Pleaseee. Please.”

He grunted, your begging fucking with his head and you felt his arms give way. He stumbled forward, no other option but to ease you down to the floor, but his mouth didn’t relent; he kissed you just as needy as before, sliding down your chin to make his way to your throat. 

You gasped at the new sensation, his tongue licking strips up your skin, his teeth nipping. Your legs shook under you, nothing to do with the alcohol you’d consumed, it was all him. He was driving you wild, and you needed him to fuck you. You knew that much. 

Your hand reached between your bodies, loving the sound of Seokjin heavy breathing against your ear as he now sucked on your lobe, and you wrapped your palm around his clothed cock. He was solid. Rock hard.. It had to be painful, surely? You got to work, rubbing him back and forth in an attempt to relieve some of his discomfort. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, and you jutted your hips into him too, mistaking the cursing for his enjoyment. “Y/N, wait,” he said, pulling back and stopping the movements of your hand, his long fingers circling your wrist. You tried reaching for his mouth again, still oblivious to his sudden change in demeaner.  

“Not like this,” he murmured, trying his best not to kiss you back, no matter how hard you pecked his mouth. 

“Why?” You asked, giving up. Your lips were wet and swollen. They prickled. God, you were so turned on your voice shook. His too. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing right now?” He sounded uncertain, looking you in the eyes as he chuckled bitterly. “You hate my guts. You don’t want my dick.” 

You frowned. What was he talking about? You’d been practically dry humping him. Of course you wanted his dick. “I do,” you insisted, leaning into him to tug at his belt. He didn’t give in. “Seokjin, just give me your dick.” 

He stared down at you, his hand still clutching your wrist, breathing still ragged, his eyes still black… but despite how much he obviously wanted this, he composed himself, his expression softening. You felt him reach behind you and gently pull your dress down over your ass. 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” He hummed softly, voice still visibly affected by you. “When you’re sober. When we’re both sober…”

.

.

You awoke suddenly, peaceful and serene for all of two seconds before you groaned, burrowing your face into your pillow. It felt as if someone was stomping on top of your head. What the hell happened last night? Wait… How had you even gotten home? Why couldn’t you remember anything?!

You blindly reached for your nightstand, praying your cell phone was there, fingers stretched as far as they would allow until you felt the familiar belonging. You grabbed it and burrowed further under the covers. You needed to call Ana. She’d fill you in – make you remember. 

Wait –

At the thought of your best friend you suddenly remembered a few things. Seokjin and Yoongi had been at the club too. They’d bought you drinks, you’d sat at their table, drunk more. Tequila must have been involved for you to be this clueless. Enough of it and you could forget your own name come morning. You’d always been the same since college. Squinting at the brightness of the screen, your head throbbing even harder if that was possible, you started to call Ana. It rang and rang… Frustrated you gave up. She could sleep through the end of the world so why were you surprised. You hoped she woke up with the world’s largest and longest hangover, serves her right for not – Oh. OH. 

You shot up, in immediate regret when the entirety of your head spasmed. Groaning you tried to fight through the pain, wishing you had some calm so you could actually piece together your memories. Ana and Yoongi. Outside. All over one another. Making out against the wall. 

What. The. Fuck. 

No wonder why she wasn’t picking up. 

The memories were hazy, but it was something. You continued to wrack your brain… You and Seokjin had found them, but they hadn’t been aware and then you’d gone back inside. He asked you to dance and that’s when you’d suggested more shot… Shots. Tequila shots. You were an idiot. Try as you might you couldn’t remember anything after that. It was all one big blur. How had you gotten from the club to your apartment? 

You moved to sit on the side of your bed, soles of your feet pressing into the carpet. Your stomach churned a little. No, you couldn’t be sick. You hated being sick. Rubbing your stomach in an attempt to soothe it you looked down and realised you were still wearing your dress. Gross. You’d gotten into bed with your clothes on? You groaned weakly. You better have washed your hands before knocking out… although, you highly doubted it. 

Looking at your phone again, you knew there was only one thing you could do. If you wanted answers you needed to ask the right person… 

(10:34am) You: How the hell did I get home last night?

No more than a minute later three dots appeared on the screen, signalling Seokjin’s reply. But he was taking his time with it. Jesus. They kept disappearing for a few moments just to pop up again. Why was it such a hard question?! 

(10:37am) Seokjin: You can’t remember? 

Really? Three minutes to type three words? 

(10:37am) You: Obviously not I wouldn’t be asking you otherwise  (10:38am) You: We saw Ana and Yoongi kissing... We had shots... We danced

You talked him through what you did recall, and once again, he played that irritating game with those three dots. You knew he wasn’t typing up an essay. 

(10:41am) Seokjin: And then I took you home

You raised both your eyebrows. He took you home? Why did that surprise you so much? 

(10:41am) You: Thanks (10:42am) Seokjin: How’s your head?  (10:43am) You: Hurts  (10:43am) You: Everything hurts  (10:43am) Seokjin: 🤣 

Rolling your eyes, you threw your phone on the bed and managed to stand up. You were done talking to him of he was just going to laugh at your misery. Besides, he’d told you all you needed to know. The mystery was solved. Next, you needed to shower. 

Immediately. 

You were still feeling extremely fragile the next morning but managed to get into the office at 9am sharp with the help of coffee. You’d spent the night on the phone to Ana, getting all the nitty gritty details about her hook up with Yoongi. Apparently, they’d bumped into each other outside after she’d slipped out for some fresh air and had gotten talking. He’d told her about his recent breakup, and having been cheated on before, naturally Ana and he had bonded, and said bonding had led to kissing. Lots of it. Which had then led to lots of sex back at her apartment. (Yes, he did know how to use his dick if anyone was curious, and yes, it was very pretty.)

You’d expected to hear about it from Seokjin this morning but he was actually uncharacteristically quiet. Although, it might have been because he was partially blindsided when he got into the office. First, he was late, which had never happened before. No matter what you thought of Seokjin, he was always punctual and professional (when it was called for). And second, there was a surprise waiting for him. 

Jungkook had draped his entire desk and chair in strings of fairy lights. Everything was lit up. It was a lot, but even you had to admit it was funny, and you hated their pranking war with a burning passion. Mainly because you were always caught in the middle. Seokjin however, seemed a little out of it. You mean, he still laughed, tried to wrestle Jungkook in the middle of Hoseok’s good morning greeting, but something about him seemed off. You couldn’t put a finger on it, it was almost like he was forcing it. 

He hardly looked at you when you asked him what he had planned for payback. Shrugging his shoulders as he rolled his chair out and slumped in it – lights still twinkling. “Who knows.” 

“I thought you had a bunch of ideas up your sleeve?” You’d spent a good half an hour discussing them Saturday night. 

That got his attention. He raised an eyebrow as he stared at you. “You remember that? I thought everything was a blur?” 

“Yeah, anything after we caught our best friends getting freaky on the streets.” You chuckled, feeling a little uneasy by the way he was still looking at you, as if he was suspicious of something. 

After a moment he gave up…Possibly? Upturning his shoulder he gave you a small smile. “Lightweight.” He didn’t meet your eyes though and leaned over to start pulling at a string of lights that laid between your desks. 

You reached over on instinct, placing your hand over his to stop him. He recoiled a little and you pulled back. What was that reaction for? “Keep them up,” you told him, choosing to ignore whatever had just happened. “It’s Christmas after all.” 

You dropped your hand under the desk, it tingled a little. Seokjin’s hand had felt warm, familiar? The inklings of something floated around the sides of your brain but you couldn’t place your finger on it. 

“Just don’t blow us up,” you joked. 

Wait. Seokjin’s stupid Christmas jumper from Saturday night. You remembered now. It had lit up and you’d wondered how he hadn’t set himself on fire yet. That was it. What was trying to seep into your brain just now. Hopefully things were coming back to you slowly… You’d remember everything in no time, you were sure of it. 

Meanwhile Seokjin nodded slowly, retreating his hand as he smiled at you slightly. 

Was he feeling okay? You thought about asking him. Maybe his mom was still taking it bad that he wouldn’t make Christmas this year? You opened your mouth, full intentions to check in on him, but stopped yourself. It wasn’t really your place. You didn’t know his personal life all too well. You mean, yeah, he’d told you some things lately, but you didn’t want to overstep the mark. He was probably just having a bad day. Everyone had them. 

However, you had to admit there was something quite unnerving about seeing him so downcast. It didn’t suit him. 

What on earth could have happened? 

.

.

The last week of work flew by. It was always the same, the office in a rush to finish up all loose ends before the two week holiday. You and Seokjin had one last meeting on Wednesday morning, just to check in and make sure everything was ready for Friday. The buffet was getting delivered the morning of and that’s when Seokjin was going to decorate the conference room. You’d been in charge of the Christmas playlist but he didn’t seem to have much interest when you’d shown him your choices. In fact, he was still acting a little strange. 

He was quiet, not his usual self, as in, he wasn’t constantly finding ways to annoy you. In fact, you barely spoke unless you had to, which before this Christmas party would’ve been great – the norm actually. However now, things were different. Had you done something to upset him? You couldn’t think what. Maybe you’d offended him when you were drunk and couldn’t remember? You thought about asking him but couldn’t find the nerve. Besides, Seokjin didn’t seem the type to get offended by trivial things. You and he tended to be at one another’s throats most (all) of the time, but it was all done in jest. You didn’t despise him, he just got on your nerves – like you got on his. You couldn’t imagine yourself saying anything terrible to him, especially because from what you could remember of that night, you’d both had fun… Hanging out with Seokjin wasn’t too bad, drunk or sober. 

So, things continued to remain a mystery, until that was, the next day… 

.

.

“Here, I got you something.”

You looked away from your computer at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, finding him stood above you, his winter coat nearly buttoned all the way up. It was just after lunch on Thursday but Seokjin and Hoseok had to head off for an emergency meeting with a client who wanted to discuss something before Christmas. 

Your forehead furrowed when you saw he was holding out a small glittery gift bag and when you took too long to take it he shook it. You reacted, taking it from him but still questioning him with your eyes. “Seokjin, Secret Santa is tomorrow.” 

“No, it’s not for that,” he informed you, his voice oddly quiet. Now you were even more confused. Why had he gotten you a gift? You felt oddly embarrassed as you played with the ribbon handles nervously. 

“I got Beryl,” he grumbled, easily making you ease up and chuckle. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d purchased a sixty year old grandma… A bar of soap probably. 

As if you couldn’t stop it, your fingers were opening up the gift. Seokjin noticed and started babbling immediately. “I saw it when I was out shopping for decorations and it made me think of you… I hope you like it. Sorry if you don’t.” 

You awed as you pulled out a small Christmas bauble, green and gold in colour with the painting of a black cat in the centre, complete with a Christmas hat between its ears. It was beautiful and quirky – and totally unexpected. You’d gotten him a damn pair of lame ass cufflinks. 

“You can hang it on your tree at home or something,” you heard him suggest. 

You looked up at him, still a little speechless but you managed to get something out. “Thank you, Seokjin. I love it.” 

His face lit up at that. The first time you’d seen him genuinely smile all week. “You do?” 

You nodded, finding yourself unable to otherwise reply. Your heart felt a little funny. It was good to see him a cheerful, you’d missed it. He always looked good when he smiled… 

He was looking at you, and you didn’t know whether you’d been staring first, but he was watching you carefully now, gaze slightly intense, as if he was trying to work something out, to find something. You dropped your chin, feeling embarrassed, cheeks hot. Why did you feel so strange? You were making it obvious. 

“You really don’t remember Saturday night?” He spoke suddenly, tone soft, careful. 

You froze. Straitening to look at him again you shook your head. “Nope.” You forced out a laugh. “It’s still a total blank. Can you believe it? Tequila is my mortal enemy.” 

One side of Seokjin’s mouth raised into a half smile, but he didn’t look too amused. You felt something trickle down your spine – a bad feeling. “Seokjin?” You questioned, finding courage. “Why? What happened?” You needed to know. 

“Hm?” He hummed, lost in thought. His face was serious once again. 

“What happened Saturday night?” 

He shook his head, squeezing out a small chuckle. It had fake written all over it. “Nothing.” 

“Something must’ve happened,” you insisted, growing a little frustrated. Whatever it was  had something to do with his odd behaviour. 

He shrugged, hands in his pockets. His cheeks were growing flushed but that just annoyed you. “It’s nothing. You were just wasted.” 

“Tell me now!” You hissed, careful to keep your voice down. The office was pretty empty at the moment, some still in the staffroom, others busy around the building, but you still didn’t want anyone overhearing something personal. 

“No.” He refused. He looked stressed out. 

“Seokjin!” He was stressing you out now. What the hell had you done that night?! 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Why?” You practically wailed. 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“What happened?” You were losing it now, thinking the worst. “What did I do?” 

He sighed loudly, finally giving in. “You kissed me.”

Silence. 

The colour drained from your face at his revelation, dread instantly filling you. What? You hadn’t been expecting that. Whatever your mind had thought up, it definitely wasn’t that.

“We kissed, okay?” He continued. “I took you home, you practically begged me to come inside and we kissed.” 

“Oh, my god,” you replied weakly, head now in your hands. You took a deep breath, trying to wrack your brains for any memories. How could you have forgotten such a major thing?! You invited Seokjin into your apartment? You kissed him? No wonder he’d been acting so strange this past week. You’d put him in such an awkward position. He was embarrassed and now so were you… 

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin apologised, down to a whisper. “I should’ve told you but I just didn’t know how. I wasn’t expecting you to forget everything and I didn’t know how to –” He stopped himself with a groan, going around in circles. 

Meanwhile, things were coming back to you. Not memories as such, more like hazy images and the faintest of sensations. His words had dislodged something. Dancing together, his hands on your body, his breath on your neck. The uber ride home. Stood in your entry way. Your hands on his arms. The feeling of his body pressed into yours. Your mouths attached and hungry. You felt yourself burn, unclear recollections stirring something hidden inside of you. 

“…Y/N?” Seokjin prompted. You managed to look at him but that was it. You mouth wouldn’t work, and what could you say anyway? How could you explain yourself when you couldn’t remember all the details? 

“It’s fine.” He told you suddenly, thinking he was reassuring you. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“Seokjin, you ready?” 

You both startled at the sound of Hoseok’s voice and looked up to see him stood in his office doorway, buttoning up his coat. 

Seokjin nodded, a little dazed. “Uh, yeah, coming. Won’t be a minute.” 

“Last minute party planning, huh?” Hoseok grinned. “I’ll meet you in the car.” 

“Look, I gotta go,” Seokjin told you once Hoseok had strolled off. “You’ll probably be gone by the time I get back, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” He spoke in a rush, not giving you time to respond. Your mouth opened, but he cut in. “It’s fine, Y/N. Trust me.” 

And then he was gone. 

You looked down at the Christmas bauble on your desk, so mortified you felt like crying.  

Crying might have been a tad dramatic, you admit. So you didn’t. You were a mixture of embarrassed and confused, unable to concentrate properly the rest of the afternoon. How had you kissed Seokjin and just forgotten about it? It was scary to think something like that could happen, a blind spot in your memory. His revelation had helped you remember some bits but there was nothing concrete. You spent your evening forcing yourself to recall more details, talking things over with Ana on the phone. You couldn’t not tell her. Not when you were in the middle of having a mini breakdown. 

She was interested in a lot more than just remembering the kiss though… 

“So if you remember him kissing you back what does that mean?” She demanded. 

You groaned. “I don’t even know if I’m remembering it correctly.” But why would your mind play tricks on you? Although, false memories were a thing… 

“Of course you are! Dick cheese likes you. It’s obvious! Classic high school bullshit.” 

“Ana, please,” you sighed. Now wasn’t the time for her theories. “He was drunk too,” you reasoned. “Just because we kissed doesn’t mean he likes me. I don’t like him, do I?” Yet, you’d grinded all over him on the dancefloor. (The memories of that were now clearer, and they made your cheeks burn…)

“Hmm.” She didn’t sound too convinced. 

“Ana, come on!” You cried. “It was a stupid mistake, and now I’ve just made things super awkward between us.” 

No wonder Seokjin had been acting weird all week, and there you’d been completely oblivious! The thought was enough to make you groan out loud. How could you go to work tomorrow? Host a party with him when things were so awkward?!

“I mean… You two need to talk about it properly. Make sure there’s no crossed wires. If you’re both on the same page then there’s no need for things to be awkward between you.” 

You rolled your eyes. She made it seem so easy. She wasn’t the one who’d made out with her co-worker. She never had to see her hook up ever again. While you had to look yours in the eye five days a week for the rest of your life quite possibly.

“You guys didn’t even hook up,” Ana screeched when you told her just that. “A slight fumble in your hallway isn’t exactly something you need to relocate for. Just talk to him.” 

Simple, right?  

But nothing ever was... 

“Let’s just forget about it,” Seokjin smiled your way as you both helped carry in the buffet food the next morning. He was holding the building’s door open for you with his back, letting you slip in first as you cradled the cardboard box filled with things you couldn’t even remember ordering. Too preoccupied with trying to bring up yesterday. 

You paused, not expecting him to shrug it off like that. In fact, it got you pretty speechless. Were you hurt? As much as Ana’s idea had made you want the earth to open up and swallow you, it made sense to talk things out with him. 

This morning you’d remembered even more while you’d brushed your teeth… Seokjin helping you slip the skirt of your dress down, finding your kitchen to get you some water… You were slowly piecing things together and it was confusing the hell out of you… You wished more than anything you could remember the whole thing. To know what was going on inside your head at the time, because right now you were a mess. 

But hearing Seokjin sound so flippant, so unfazed made you a little deflated… What if you didn’t want to forget about it? 

“I mean, you did already, so,” he gave a shrug and you followed him into the elevator in a daze. 

“Oh, yeah, okay,” you forced yourself to say, hitting the third floor button. You turned to look at him and plastered a smile onto your face. It hurt. “Good idea.” 

.

.

“Where is he?” Jungkook whined like a big kid. (The Christmas jumper he was wearing with a giant teddy bear in the centre didn’t help things…) “He knows I’m starving. Been saving myself all day for this.”

You raised a judgemental eyebrow. “You didn’t even have breakfast?” 

He looked at you, shooting you a quick wink. “I’m treating this buffet like it deserves to be treated. Like it’s my one and only.” At his side, Mina giggled. 

“Let’s just open up,” Hoseok suggested, reaching for the handle of the conference door. 

“No!” You exclaimed, standing in front of it. 

You were all waiting around like a bunch of lemons, Seokjin having done a disappearing act just before the party was due to start. Jungkook had already tried to call him three times but his phone was engaged. Everyone was getting impatient, but he needed to be here to see everyone’s reactions to his decorating. He’d been in there all morning, blinds closed, not even you knew what it looked like in there. 

“Y/N, come on,” Jungkook cried dramatically. “He won’t mind, let’s just get in there!”

“Fine,” you gave in, turning around to open up. You didn’t really have a choice, everyone was gearing up to trample you… 

One look inside had you a little speechless. It was beautiful, the room decorated like Santa’s Grotto. Seokjin had done an amazing job, and you felt bad for ever doubting his skill. For ever doubting his sincerity when it came to planning this entire party… 

“Oh, whoa,” Jungkook gasped behind you, sounding wholly surprised. “Jin did so well on the decorations.” You turned back to agree but saw him smirking. “You must be pissed.” 

“Shut up,” you scoffed and immediately swatted his hand away from a tray of sandwiches. “No! You have to wait!” 

Jungkook made a noise of agony, practically flaking out in one of the chairs. “I’m this close to passing out!”

You sighed at his dramatics. “I’ll go and look for him.” He can’t have gone far, surely? You pointed at everyone as you stepped out, expression stern. “No starting this party until I find him – and no eating food.” 

Jungkook whimpered. 

As you walked out of the office and down one flight of stairs you started to grow worried. What if something was wrong? Maybe there’d been an emergency and he’d had to leave…? Only, those thoughts didn’t have a chance to go too far as you spotted him almost immediately a little down the hallway. The second floor was unoccupied, most of the rooms either used for storage or ominously locked. He was stood with a shoulder against the wall, his back to you. The Santa’s hat he’d been wearing earlier was shoved into his back pocket. You’d caught him just in time, he was finishing up a phone call before staring at the screen, deep in thought it seemed. 

You suddenly felt nervous… You hadn’t been alone together at all since this morning and you’d been slightly miserable ever since then. Ever since he’d shut down the conversation you so badly wanted. You caught him staring your way a few times, when he was coming in and out of the conference room mid decorating – or maybe he was catching you staring. Who knew anymore. Your head was a mess, confused and unexplainably disappointed. 

But you needed to suck it up. There was a Christmas party to pull off, and it needed both its hosts…

“Seokjin?” You called, walking closer. 

He turned around with a start, shoving his phone into his jeans pocket. “Oh, hey.”

You took a moment to admire his Christmas jumper – a dabbing Santa Claus, which was pretty 2016 now, but whatever. You were wearing one similar to the bauble he’d gifted you yesterday, a cat wearing a Christmas hat, but you’d paired it with a Mrs. Claus skirt you wore every year without fail. Oh. You suddenly remembered something. Seokjin telling you he had a whole drawer full of Christmas sweaters. The thought should’ve made you laugh but you were still so nervous. You heart felt a little funny as you stared up at him. 

One thing was for certain, you didn’t think you could forget about the kiss. 

Could you excuse yourself to run away and call Ana? But then there’d be zero hosts at the party and Jungkook would disintegrate from hunger… You needed to power on. 

“Everyone’s wondering where you went,” you said, voice sounding strange as you spoke into the unsettling silence. 

You really didn’t want things to be awkward. You would hate it so much. You understood you didn’t have the best of relationships, but it worked for you both. Now it could all be ruined, and you didn’t want that. You didn’t know what you wanted…

Seokjin hesitated before tapping his pocket. “Sorry, phone call. Some type of insurance sales shit.” 

You nodded, unsure why you didn’t quite believe him, but chose to ignore it, giving him a short smile. “We should hurry up. Jungkook is salivating in there. He’s two seconds away from devouring the whole buffet.” 

Seokjin chuckled lightly at that. “Expected. He’s been fasting since 7pm last night.” 

Why didn’t that surprise you? 

“He’s already forced his way inside. Sorry. I tried to hold them off for as long as possible.”

“That’s my own fault.” He shrugged, then gave you a gentle smile. “Thanks for trying.” 

Your heart did a little flip. You tried to ignore it. “You did a great job on decorating by the way.” 

“You sound surprised,” he teased. “How many times do I have to say I lo– 

“You love Christmas, yes, okay, I believe you now.” You interrupted with a laugh. You remembered that from Saturday night, but you wanted to remember all of it. 

You opened your mouth, you needed to tell him. You needed to tell him you didn’t want to forget. “Seokjin,” you began, unsure how to continue. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. However it seemed he had things to say himself…

“I lied.”

Huh? 

His admission caught you off guard. He could probably tell by your face. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. “I lied about the phone call. It was Yoongi. He was giving me a pep talk.” 

“A pep talk?” You repeated, now aware you could hear your own heartbeat. 

He took a step forward and let out a deep breath, gearing himself up. “I can’t stop thinking about last weekend, Y/N.” Your heart was thudding now. “I know I said we should forget about it but I can’t. You don’t remember it and I know you regret it and I’m sorry for,” he stopped to sigh in frustration. “I don’t know, I just feel really guilty. Because I really enjoyed kissing you.” 

He was staring straight into your eyes, no more than a foot between you. He looked nervous and remorseful. You didn’t like it. 

Firm, you held his gaze. “I don’t regret it.” That thought had never crossed your mind. Even through all the shock and mortification. Yes, your memories were extremely vague, but you didn’t regret the kiss. If anything you were curious. Even more curious now. 

Seokjin paused, not expecting your reply, but he sounded hopeful. “You don’t?” 

You shook your head. “I was embarrassed when you told me, yes, but that was because I thought I’d made a fool of myself – I mean, I still did, but if you enjoyed kissing me I guess it was worth it.” 

Seokjin had enjoyed kissing you, and from your foggy memories, you’d enjoyed kissing him too. You smiled. It was contagious as he grinned your way too. 

“You didn’t make a fool of yourself. At all.” He stressed. “Do you remember anything now?” He sounded concerned, still unsure how to go about this. 

“Bits and pieces, yeah.” You admitted. “You got me a glass of water and then left…” 

He looked guilty. “I lost myself a little, I admit, but I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t go through with it because you were so drunk and I was pretty sure you hated me and I could never take advantage of you like that.” 

Your heart fluttered. Genuine Seokjin was dangerous for you. “I don’t hate you,” you told him pointedly, crossing your arms across your chest, the beginnings of a smirk itching to appear. “You annoy me to no end but that’s sort of your charm, I guess.” 

He cocked an eyebrow, sensing the change in atmosphere as he asked smugly, “My charm?”

“Don’t ruin it,” you snipped, feeling brave as you stepped closer to him to tilt your head and run a hand down his chest – down the dabbing Santa… “So, you liked kissing me?” 

He nodded enthusiastically, curiously watching your movements. “It felt good. And not just in my dick but like, everywhere.” 

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed, rendered speechless. 

“What?” He asked, eyes wide. He grabbed your hips pulling you closer and you couldn’t help but squeal, reaching for his shoulders. He felt good. Big and warm and familiar. “I’m trying to talk about my feelings here.” 

He was teasing you, sure, but he was also telling the truth. You knew that. Feelings was a scary word, an uncertain word, but you thought you liked the way it made you feel. Maybe Ana was correct… Maybe a part of you did like Seokjin. It sure felt like it right now…

“Kiss me,” you whispered, gaze on his mouth before it flickered to his eyes. “I’m sober now and I want to see if I like it too.” 

You already knew the answer. He did too by the smirk on his face, but he listened anyway, closing the distance between your mouths. His lips felt instantly familiar, making you feel at ease as they pressed into yours. Fluttering his eyes closed you followed suit and he moved gently, tentatively, as if he couldn’t believe it – as if he didn’t want to ruin anything. From the back of your mind vague memories started to wind their way forward, his kiss drawing them out. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body into his ever so slightly with a soft sigh. The tip of his tongue found yours, hints of it joining each drag of his mouth and something lit up inside of you. So you were inevitably disappointed when he pulled back, giving your hips a soft squeeze.

“So?” He grinned. 

You hummed out loud, running your fingers through the hair against the nape of his neck. He liked that. You remembered running them through his hair on the dancefloor, his hands on your body. Stomach doing somersaults, you wanted more – needed more. “Maybe a bit more tongue and I’ll give you an answer…” 

He breathed out a shaky laugh and you thought he might hit back with something but there was no time for talking, not when he couldn’t bear to be away from your lips. Listening, he licked into your mouth, moving with a lot more confidence now. He held you tight before one of his hands came up to softly cup your cheek, the quietest of noises escaping his throat – showing just how much he was enjoying himself. You joined him, moaning gently into the kiss, your tongues untiring as the air around you shifted. 

It was when your back hit the wall did you truly let yourself leave go, hands exploring the expanse of his back as he crowded you, humming greedily against your lips, his hands holding your face as if he couldn’t bear to leave you and come up for air. More memories fluttered their way past your eyelids, a lot more vivid now, Seokjin’s tongue beckoning them  to the forefront of your mind. 

You remembered your kiss was hot and heavy, up against your entry way wall. You had wanted him so bad in that moment and here wasn’t much different. It was like you had been thrown right back there – that eagerness, that want. The only reason you pulled away eventually was because you literally needed to breath. You didn’t fancy passing out, enjoying yourself way too much… 

“I can’t believe you said to forget about this,” you managed to speak, breathless, lips wet and flush as you ran your hands across the broadness of his shoulders. God. You couldn’t stop touching him. 

“I can’t believe you did forget about this,” he exclaimed. He was breathing heavy, just like at the club when you’d grinded all over him. Your memory was on your side now. All it had needed was a prod.   

He did have you there. Your bad. But – “In my defence you supplied the tequila shots.” Although, you had suggested a second round… 

He chuckled, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip. “Stop giving me attitude. It’s turning me on.” 

You stomach flipped, your fingernails digging into the wool blend of his jumper as you held him to you. You wanted to kiss him for hours, because now that you’d started you didn’t want to stop. 

“Should we head back now?” Seokjin asked against a curl of your tongue, one hand against the wall, the other stroking your jaw line. “They’re probably wondering where we both are.” 

“In a moment,” you murmured, a hand of yours bravely dragging down his side. You hit the waistband of his jeans and curled a finger through a belt loop, nudging his crotch flush to yours. Your mouth did the rest of the talking. Sober you wanted what drunk you had missed out on. 

“Fuck,” you heard him mutter, immediately understanding where you wanted this to lead. “Or we can just ditch those losers and go to my place?” He drew back to catch your reaction. “Your place?”

“We can’t do that.” As tempting as that sounded, you couldn’t not attend your own Christmas party you’d spent weeks organising. Seokjin was hot, but he wasn’t that hot. Plus, it would way too suspicious if you both just disappeared… 

Seokjin agreed with a little sigh. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

That didn’t mean you couldn’t think of other ideas though…

“What are you doing?” Seokjin asked, moving back slightly as you wrestled for your phone in your skirt pocket. He watched you search for Jungkook’s name in your phonebook – you were sure you still had his number from when you’d had to “mentor” him the first week he’d arrived. Success! You did! You hurriedly text him. 

(13:31pm) You: I can’t find him. Start without us but LEAVE me some food

He replied immediately. He was probably withering away by now, the poor boy. 

(13:32pm) Jungkook: Oh man Jin is so fucking dead  (13:32pm) Jungkook: Tell him I love him before you stick the knife in 🤪 (13:32pm) You: Sure thing 

You looked up at Seokjin and grinned. “Just bought us half an hour.”

He looked impressed, an eyebrow cocked as he regarded you. “What are we going to do in half hour? – and please don’t say kill me.” 

You giggled – actually giggled. Damn him. You reached for his belt loop again, tugging it gently. “Whatever it is, we can’t do it out in the hallway.” 

You were playing a very dangerous game here. Out in the open, at your place of work. The storeroom was probably an even sillier idea – but that’s where you ended up dragging him into, flipping on the light to save being surrounded in darkness. You were 99% sure the surveillance cameras didn’t work on this floor anyway, so…

“You’re crazy,” he laughed weakly in disbelief, stumbling over an (empty) mop bucket as he went to reach for you. 

“And you love it,” you smirked against his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

The urge took over again, now in the privacy of the storage cupboard you were free to do whatever you liked. Seokjin grew hard against you quickly, your mouths locked together in haste as his palms felt up your ass. It wasn’t long before he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his middle as he continued to kiss you greedily against the wall. His hands slipped  under your skirt, cupping your ass and you tried to circle your hips as best you could, feeling his erection through the layers of your tights and underwear, both of you straining out moans and grunts. 

“I’m having déjà vu,” he grinned, lowering his mouth to nip at your neck. You gasped, pushing into him and he took the opportunity to begin to kiss your throat. Just like last time… Déjà vu, indeed. 

Breaking away he looked between your bodies, the band of white wool along your skirt protecting your modesty, but only just. “You weren’t dressed as Mrs. Claus though.” He sunk his teeth into your neck once more, a little harder this time and you jerked, yelping as you squeezed the tops of his arms. He liked that reaction, licking a broad strip up the column of your throat, getting you all kinds of wet and sticky. 

No doubt between your legs matched. You were hot, and impatient, and Seokjin’s mouth was evil. Especially when he lifted his head, dark fringe in his eyes, and smirked at you. Fuck, you really wanted him. Your heart was doing somersaults. 

“A fucking sexy Mrs. Claus.” 

You immediately rolled your eyes. Why was he ruining it? You were not about to partake in some sordid Christmas roleplay fantasy of his… “Just shut up and kiss me.” 

He didn’t really feel like answering back. 

A few minutes later you were placed back on the floor, your legs a little shaky as you clung to him, mouths still unrelenting. You were both heavy breathed and burning with desire. He pinned you to the wall with his thigh, separating your legs and giving you something else to grind against as his lips trailed the expanse of your throat, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he teared your hosiery. 

You were weak, slick against your underwear and desperate for some sort of release. Seokjin panted against your ear. “Do you remember what you said that night?” Moaning was all you could give in reply. “You wanted my dick. You were begging for it.” 

Hearing him speak like that drove you wild. “Mmhm. Remind me.” You could vaguely remember, too pent up to get embarrassed. 

He moved his thigh, pressing his crotch flush to yours and hooked a finger under your chin, lifting your face so he could kiss you again. You could feel his erection and unable to hold off any longer you reached between you and wrapped your hand around him. You could recall doing this before, Seokjin stopping you, but this time he did no such thing. Instead, he pushed into your touch, his voice thick with something that made you shiver as he spoke. 

“You drive me crazy… Every god damn day…” 

Your mind was a little too preoccupied to truly concentrate on his words but they seemed to stir something inside of you. Nudge something that had been forgotten. You couldn’t place it, but it had to do with last weekend. Something he’d said to you… before he’d kissed you… You couldn’t remember but the faintest of memories made you glow. 

“W-we should really just head to my place,” Seokjin stammered slightly, keening into your touch. You were sure his thighs were trembling, all the blood in his dick turning him weak. 

“There’s no need,” you breezed, and before you could take a moment to reconsider you were dropping to your knees. 

“Fuck, what are you doing?” He was practically beside himself, fingers digging into your shoulders as he watched you reach for the buttons on his jeans. 

“What do you think?” 

He sighed exhaustedly, a red flush beginning to travel its way up his neck, peeking above the collar of his sweater. “You’re trying to kill me.” 

Whatever he’d been expecting to happen in here hadn’t been you sucking his dick, you could tell. You took great pleasure in that. It was fun getting this kind of reaction from him. Truth was, when the mood struck, the mood struck, and you wanted him – badly. 

He watched you unbutton him, his black underwear coming into view – Calvin Klein, the band told you, and above that, where his jumper had ridden up, you could see a sliver of smooth tan skin – You just knew he was hiding a great body under there, but now wasn’t the time for stripping. You needed to be quick. 

You tugged his jeans down a little past his hips, enough for easy access. “You really want to kill–ughgh –!” 

He broke off with a surprised moan, your hand reaching inside his boxers to pull out his dick. Wrapping your palm around the base you gripped automatically, staring at what you could only describe as his third leg, with a slack jaw. “Of course you have a fucking massive dick,” you muttered, feeling a little unnerved. 

Surprise immediately dissipating, Seokjin gave you a smirk. “That obvious, huh?”

You breathed heavily through your nose, beginning to run your fist along his length on instinct. It was a good looking dick, you’d give him that. Tense at your sudden movements, Seokjin soon eased up, watching you carefully. You looked up at him, giving him a tiny, slightly shy smile… There really was no going back now. Not that you wanted to. Things had changed and they were going to change even more after this… 

“Come on,” he murmured, a hand reaching out to stroke your cheek. His voice sounded dangerous, low and honeyed as he gazed at you on your knees for him. “Suck it like I know you want to…” 

You scoffed, although surely he could see the effect he had on you. You weren’t bluffing anybody, not even yourself. “Don’t rush me.” 

Seokjin looked amused, but that soon changed when you swiped your tongue across the head of his cock in one fluid and determined motion. His knees pretty much buckled, a hand reaching for the side of your head, his fingers weaving into your hair. You chuckled a little mischievously, your lips wrapped around him, knowing the vibrations would fuck with his head some more. Seokjin laughed stiffly along, knowing what you were up to – knowing you loved having this sort of effect on him – but it sounded strained, wavering in the middle as his eyes locked with yours, the veins in his neck beginning to bulge with the strain. 

You moved, wrapping your lips around him further, your tongue washing against the hot skin and he stumbled forward a little, a grunt slipping from his mouth. That fuelled you, slipping him deeper, your tongue tracing patterns along the underside before you pulled back and repeated. You weren’t kidding when you said he had a massive dick, it was almost daunting, but you found a way around it, massaging your fist along the base of him in time with your mouth until you found a confident rhythm. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

That boosted your ego too, taking great pleasure in the way you seemed to have stunned Seokjin into more or less complete silence. He wasn’t very cocky right now, was he? If you had known sucking his dick would shut him up, you’d have done it long ago – or maybe that was your own horniness talking… Who knew right now. 

You popped off him, running your palm wider, further along to circle over the head, your saliva acting as lubrication, quiet squelching noises slipping from between your fingers. You smirked up at him, “Am I still boring?”

It took him a moment to process your question, his body hunched, surrendering to the pleasure, and you admired the way his lips parted, each breath audible as he stared down at you, dark eyes glazed over. God, he was hot. How had you been so unbothered by him for so long? 

Shaking his head, he halfway came to. “Sucking my dick in a storeroom, can’t get any wilder than this. Well done, you proved me wrong.” 

That was nice to hear. You liked it when he was wrong, mainly because you loved being right. You wrapped your free hand around the top of his thigh, needing the support as you took his dick in your mouth again. Feeling ambitious you willed yourself to relax as you eased along him, taking him deeper, beginning to bob back and forth, the faintest of noises escaping the back of your throat. 

It drove him crazy, his head falling back as he whined. “If this is all just to prove a point and you stop before I cum, I’m going to cry like a motherfucking baby.” 

You tried to laugh but ended up choking, gagging on his cock – unflattering surely, but he seemed to love it, his eyes flashing as he cupped your hand that gripped his girth, gently pulling it away to place on his other thigh. He didn’t want his view obstructed he watched. Besides, you didn’t need your hand as a safety net anymore anyway…

“Fu-ck, you look so good sucking my dick,” he awed, his voice hoarse. He tightened the hold he had on your hair, the fingers of his other hand brushing rouge strands out of your face. You looked up at him, mouth stuffed and he smirked. It made your core pulse. “On your knees. You couldn’t get down there quick enough.” 

A moan slipped from your throat, pulsating against his cock. Of course the guy had a filthy mouth, it should’ve been obvious. What was shocking though, was the effect it had on you. Dirty talk was cringeworthy in your eyes, not many men could pull it off – not even Namjoon – but words like that coming from Seokjin?! You were sure you’d just freshly drenched your underwear. It would surely be a slip ‘n’ slide down there when he finally got his hands on you – If he got his hands on you. Fuck, he better. 

A nudge of his hips cut short your momentary distraction, realising that Seokjin was beginning to thrust ever so slightly into your mouth. He noticed your attention on him and asked hesitantly, “This okay?” 

“Mhmmhmm,” you hummed, gurgling a little which seemed to drive him a little crazy. You let him take control, concentrating on breathing through your nose and pleasuring him with your tongue as he gently fucked your mouth. 

You were losing your mind, hazy pleasure blurring your vision and clouding your thoughts.  Rationality was out the window long ago, all that you knew was the red, hot want you had for him. The Christmas party and the fact you were risking your job right now didn’t come into play, all you cared about was chasing that desire. 

Looking up at Seokjin you noticed his eyes were closed now, his chin tilted towards the ceiling, expression contorted with pleasure as the quietest of moans escaped his throat with each rugged breath he took. You pulsed down below, only this time the urge burned its way up your body, getting hotter as he quickened his motions, seemingly losing himself, seemingly pursuing his end. 

He pulled back abruptly during one withdraw, breath shaky as he kept the tip of his cock inside your mouth, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from the warm wetness. You sucked firmly, catching his gaze and he just about lost it, eyes rolling into the back of his skull. 

“Shit,” he cursed, ever so slightly nudging further into you, edging himself almost. You darted the tip of your tongue along his slit, earning yourself a soft hiss. His thighs were trembling, you could feel the vibrations under your palm and his neck was thick and tense with strain, patched red, as he tried his might to gain some control over the pleasure you were giving him. “J-Just checking, there’s no chance we’ll have sex in here, right?” 

His voice trembled too, all light and airy and so unlike his voice that you were familiar with. His eyes were blow wide as he gaped down at you, his lips plumper than you’d ever seen them before. He was beautiful. Damn, you really wanted to kiss him again… 

You slid away, cupping your hand around his dick to jerk him off ever so slowly, a couple of inches along the base. He was more than slick now, coated in your spit, flesh veiny and angry red. Shifting on your knees, ignoring the cricks to power on through, you shrugged. “Not unless you carry condoms with you at work.” 

He pondered for a moment. “I can’t say I do.” That caused you to chuckle, leaning in to curl your tongue against the side of his cock. He startled, a loud moan escaping that was surely unnecessary, but it did wonders for your ego. 

He tightened his hold on your head, angling you to the tip of his dick, desperate to get back into your warmth. “So you won’t be disappointed when I inevitably bust a nut?” 

You raised an eyebrow, his cock drawing translucent patterns against your lips as you replied. “That’s why I’m down here.” 

He whimpered, the sheer thought of coming exciting him further. You slipped him back inside, feeling him grip his fingers into your hair, anchoring himself – and you, in preparation. 

“Oh, ffuck,” he muttered, watching you begin to meet every thrust his hips gave you. You were determined, eager for him to cum. You hadn’t sucked dick in so long but now you were in your element, each reaction from Seokjin, no matter how small, encouraging you. The fact he was hiding a foot long in his pants was now no issue at all. You were a pro, just like in all aspects of life. 

A strange sound left the back of Seokjin’s throat, almost as if he was getting strangled and his shoulders slumped, the rest of him growing stiff. “Where am I doing this?” He asked weakly. “Y/N?” He demanded pretty shrilly when you didn’t reply. 

You weren’t relenting, somehow pushing him deeper into your mouth and down your throat and he groaned loudly, blunt nails digging into your scalp. “You want me to cum down your throat?” 

Ding Ding. Clever Seokjin. 

You nodded widely around his girth, gagging a little a process, but this time you owned it. He loved it. 

“Fuck.” He grunted, spreading his feet a little, planting himself to the tiles. “You really want my fucking cum.” 

You moaned, sending a fire of vibrations up his dick and you knew you had him. His hips stilled almost instantly, his cock rammed inside your mouth and you readjusted, using your tongue to coax his release. He came with a deep exhale like moan, stumbling forward with a surprised grunt as one of his hands reached out to slam into the wall behind you. You held him steady with your hands flat against his thighs, swallowing his cum down quickly because you definitely had a love hate relationship with the stuff. Dealt with swiftly, you more than welcomed it. 

Seokjin softly chuckled down at you as he fell from your mouth, now well on his way to growing flaccid and eased off as you straightened your back and made motions to stand (on shaky legs). He tucked himself back inside his underwear, the snap of the waistband making you flutter. Flutter where you wanted him to touch the most. 

You felt warmth as he hooked a hand around your hip, pulling you to him with a bashful grin. “That was worth getting fired for.” 

You giggled, wiping the sides of your mouth with the back of your hand before cupping the back of his neck, dragging him closer as you backed up against the wall. You liked when he crowded around you, liked feeling him against your body. Your body that was screaming for him right now… 

“No one’s getting fired,” you reassured, voice a murmur and then either you or he connected your mouths again. Couldn’t tell who – it was probably both of you. It was amusing that you were the one assuring him, Miss. Uptight who worried about every single little thing. He was the one was supposed to be carefree, yet this had all been your idea. 

Your hand dragged down his chest, feeling the hardness of his pecs, and for a split second you thought about taking him up on the offer of ditching the party and driving to his place. You wanted to get him naked, wanted to see what you could feel, and you really wanted to fuck him. Yet, you knew it was a bad idea. Even worse than sucking dick on the second floor of the office building. Possibly. 

“How long do you think we have before they throw a search party?” Seokjin asked, cupping your face with one hand as the other snaked down to your ass. 

“We still have time.” 

You and Seokjin were always at one another’s throats, no one would guess you were actually getting it on directly underneath them… You were positive. 

“Hm. Enough for me to return the favour?” He contemplated. 

You made a noise of agreement, nodding eagerly as you stretched for his mouth, unable to just. Stop. Kissing. Him. 

It turned hot and heavy immediately, decision now made, and you grasped at one another, kissing wildly. “I love touching you,” he grunted against your tongue, hands gripping anything he could. You had to agree, especially his shoulders. You’d never felt anything like them in your entire life, no wonder he had the upper body strength to hold you up. He was big. Big big, and it was driving you crazy. 

“This ass,” he growled, pulling away from your lips as both hands cupped the rounds of flesh, giving them a very keen and firm squeeze. Skirt bunched up at your hips he had the perfect access. You moaned, the heat between your bodies becoming unbearable and you nearly collapsed into him when one of his hands found its way to your core, cupping the sensitive flesh hesitantly. That was until he felt how soaked you were. It had seeped through your underwear, dampening your tights. It felt heavy and uncomfortable but you guessed that was soon to change now that he’d gotten his hands on you… 

“So fucking wet,” he purred, dropping his height a little to meet your eyes. His fingers slipped inside your panties, his index and middle finger running along your folds before a knuckle found your clit, your hips bucking. He rubbed the bundle of nerves rather lightly, but it was enough. You were beside yourself, any pleasure, however slight, blowing your mind. You moaned sweetly, hot air puffing against Seokjin’s lips. He smirked. “Someone’s very responsive.”

“Please,” you moaned, however you weren’t too sure what you needed to beg for. 

He loved it though, smirking wider. “There she is.” 

“Please, Seokjin,” you repeated, clutching to the neck of his sweater. Hazy memories of last weekend drifted into the forefront of your mind. Begging him for his dick. Sadly, you couldn’t have that right now, but there was always second best. 

Leaning in as if to kiss you he pulled back last minute, a teasing lilt to his tone as he asked you a question. “What do you want, baby?” 

You moaned again, the pet name not so bad after all and pressed into his touch, the headiness in his voice making you tremble with need. Your answer was simple. “Your fingers.”  

Seokjin wasted no time, yanking his hand away to tug at your hosiery. They didn’t budge, so he moved his other hand from your ass to help. Maybe the light sheen of sweat that painted your skin had stuck tight the nylon – or maybe he was just useless… 

“What the hell are these?” He huffed, clearly impatient. 

“Stop, you’re going to rip them,” you told him off. All you needed was to walk back inside the office with laddered tights… How very unsuspicious… 

“They’re dumb.” 

“I’m sorry,” you exclaimed, “wasn’t expecting us to be getting it on today.”

Seokjin paused what he was doing to shoot you a look of sheer judgement. “Getting it on?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. Yes, maybe your choice of words were lame, but it still stood. You were getting it on right now!

He laughed and tugged at the waistband one last time, finally succeeding but also yanking down your underwear in the process. 

“Let me see you,” he strained out, gripping your hips and you had no time to feel embarrassed by your sudden waist-down nakedness. His eyes drunk up your soaked core, before he looked up at your face again, his right hand reaching for you, each brush of his fingertips turning you boneless. “Fuck. You have the best pussy I’ve ever seen.” 

He was kissing you again, pushing you further into the wall. Pussy. Under all circumstances that word was just yuck, but once again, coming from Seokjin it didn’t seem so bad anymore. It made your core leap, but that might have been something to do with the way he was nestling a deft, long finger inside of you. Your walls clenched around the intrusion as you moaned into his mouth and you gripped at his shoulders, rolling your hips as he started to curl the digit against your warmth. 

Ever so carefully he added a second finger, the burn easing quickly as pleasure took over. His thumb rubbed messy circles against your clit, your arousal beginning to squelch audibly inside the small room. You hooked your arms around his neck instead, pulling him closer and he grunted into your mouth, sounding unlike himself. 

“Seokjin–!” You mewled, falling from his mouth to catch your breath.

“Yeah, me,” he smirked, his free had rubbing small circles into your hip as he continued to give you what you wanted. “I love it when you say my name.” His lips landed on your throat and you pushed your head to the side, pretty sure you were moaning too loudly now but the stimulation was too good to ignore. You grew wetter. His fingers easily sliding in and out of you as he started to finger you quicker, the lewd squelching sticking inside your ears. 

“You’re soaked, Y/N. Did I do this?” He murmured against your ear before nibbling your lobe. You shuddered. “Sucking my dick made you so horny.” The hand on your hip slid to your ass, and he squeezed the meat hard, using it as leverage to go even faster. You squeezed around his fingers tightly, crying out. 

But then there was nothing but emptiness as he pulled them out, making you gasp out in shock. He looked playfully smug. “What’s up? Lost your voice?”

This fucker. Jungkook was right, you were going to murder him. Only not for going AWOL but for not giving you the orgasm you craved. Seokjin’s wet hand massaged the inside of your thigh, and you squeezed your legs together trying your best to ease the tension that was building up. 

“Seokjin, don’t fuck around.” You told him sternly, although your voice was anything but calm. 

“Am I fucking around?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear as he lowered his shoulders and stole another look at your needy heat. Something inside him changed then, as he let out a curse. “Shit. I wanna taste you.” His eyes pleaded with you. “Can taste you?” 

You were nodding before you realised, although you weren’t about to say please again – 

you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead you exhaled out a shaky yes. 

Squatting immediately he pulled the nylon passed your knees, lifting a foot to slip off one of your heels, the leg of your hosiery following soon after. You wobbled as he raised your foot higher and you reached out for his shoulders to steady yourself. 

“I got you,” he reassured. “I just need to spread you a little.” Hooking your foot on the bottom shelf of the cabinet next to you, your legs widened, giving him perfect access to where you needed him the most. “There,” he said, looking pleased with himself. 

His gaze soon darkened when he got a look at you and you braced yourself against the wall as he stalked nearer, a palm cupping your thigh before he followed the curve with his mouth, kissing his way closer and closer to your core. You groaned softly when his lips parted around your clit, warmth flooding you, slowly inking its way through your veins and darting his tongue out he brushed it against you slowly, repeating with the same rhythm until you were squirming, a hand reaching for his hair just for something to grip. 

He sped up, learning what your body liked quickly, dropping to one knee to sink further into you. You moaned pretty loudly when you felt his fingers press against your entrance, slipping inside, and you took him greedily and nosily, pushing into his tongue that had now curled around your clit as he sucked softly. 

You fell to pieces. Fingernails dragging along his scalp as you tugged at his hair. Which he seemed to love, by the way. If his grunting was anything to go by, his movements more determined, firmer. Each time he sucked, point of his tongue flicking against you, you lost it a bit more, gasping out in pleasure. Boy knew how to use his mouth, you were pleasantly surprised. 

He pulled back, his breath a little ragged and replaced his tongue with the pad of his thumb, rubbing tight, firm circles against your sticky clit. “You like getting your clit sucked. Noted.” He grinned, sending your stomach flipping. His mouth and chin were covered in your arousal, which he made no attempt to clean off. In fact, he went immediately back for seconds, licking a wide strip up your whole core, noises of satisfaction leaving him. 

“God, Seokjin,” you murmured weakly, dizzy and trembling. If he kept this up you were going to cum very soon. Especially with the way his fingers caressed your insides, pressing deep until he hit something that had you yelping. 

He looked triumphant as he dropped to both knees now, looking up at you, watching your reaction as he repeatedly curled against your g-spot. You squirmed around, pleasure becoming a little unbearable but oh, so addictive. 

“So, no one ends up fucking at the office Christmas party, huh?” He asked nonchalantly. This fucker was really having a casual conversation with you as he tried to bring you to your knees. By his smug grin, he knew what he was doing. 

Well, not on your watch. 

You bit back a moan, and shrugged, trying your best to sound normal. “We’re not going all the way so technically, that still stands.” 

He laughed loudly, genuinely amused, but his fingers had other ideas. He pulled out halfway, straightening his digits to fuck into you – hard. You choked out, feeling him slowly withdraw, letting you catch your breath before he repeated. And repeated. And repeated…

You were close to seeing stars, the moans rolling freely from your mouth as you clung to his hair. He was evil. “Seok–oh, shit,” you cursed, feeling him deep inside you yet again. “Seokjinnn.” 

“What is it, babe?” He asked, acting oblivious. At the name you clenched around his soaked fingers. “I knew you loved it when I called you that.” You didn’t have time to chew him out because his tongue was washing against your clit again, curling around it, prodding it, sucking it… Your eyes rolled back, a thin sheen of sweat coating your neck and chest, and you knew you weren’t long for this world. You were ten seconds away from becoming a puddle on the floor. 

“Gonna cum, baby?” You squeezed around his fingers again, clit pulsing against his tongue. “You love that too.” You could feel his shit eating grin against you but didn’t care.  

“Don’t stop,” you demanded, out of breath. 

“Not planning on it,” he affronted, licking up your folds once again. You gasped loudly, clenching your eyes tightly closed. You were hanging over the pinnacle, just a little more and you’d fall. You were this close to coming and you might explode in the process. 

“I’m going to make this pussy cum so good. So fucking good,” Seokjin almost goaded, which was in fact, what pushed you over the edge. You came with a loud, strained cry, white hot pleasure that exploded behind your eyelids. 

He made sure to rinse you for all you were worth, until you were writhing out of his grip, your grasp on his hair easing and then he was jumping to his feet, his mouth suddenly on yours with a grunt, kissing you like crazy. You couldn’t tell who was out of breath more.

“Tonight.” He announced ferociously. “Tonight. Please come over and let me fuck you.” 

You moaned at the thought, your tongues turning messy as you tried to concentrate and form words. “My place. I live alone. We can be as loud as we like.” 

.

.

Five minutes later you were back in your tights, knees wobbling together as you tried to slip into your shoe. There wasn’t time for more chitchat – or kissing, you needed to get back to the office before someone came looking for you both. 

“So does that mean you forgive me over Rosal & Steinar?” Seokjin asked curiously, still fairly out of breath. He’d wiped his mouth now, in attempt to clean himself up, but his bangs were slightly kinked, forehead shiny and his cheeks were very much still red. 

You turned to him and smirked. “Another orgasm and maybe.” 

He chuckled. “I’m positive that can be arranged.” You didn’t doubt it. “No, but really,” he carried on, taking you by surprise when he clasped your hand, rooting you to the spot. “You know I had to do it, right? I felt terrible but there weren’t many options.” 

His eyes pooled with sincerity and you found yourself softening, growing touched. It was nice to know he hadn’t done it out of spite – although why he would have seemed pretty ludicrous to believe now… No, you’d just been bitter. 

“I know, Seokjin,” you smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve forgotten about it.” He looked a little sceptical. “I forgive you,” you insisted with a laugh. It was either he closed the deal or they found another company… They were legitimately the only two options. You got it. 

He returned your smile, finally accepting your reassurance, and you tugged at his hand, opening the storeroom door. You needed to leave. Now. 

But –

Turning back at him over your shoulder, you shot him a playful grin. “Doesn’t mean I won’t steal them back next year though.” 

His eyes widened in surprise before they lit up, his laughter loud down the empty hallway.

“Game on, baby.”

.

.

“Do I look acceptable?” 

You and Seokjin were mere inches from the door leading into the office, your whispers nervous as you hesitated about going inside. You needed to get your best lying face on. ASAP.

“Hang on,” you said, reaching up to adjust his Santa’s hat. The flush on his face had paled, thankfully. “There we go. What about me?”

“Hm.” He pondered, cupping your face to stare down at you, worrying you actually. “I still think we look like we were giving mad head in the storeroom.” 

“Stop,” you groaned, pulling away from him as you realised he was only teasing. You were still pretty sticky downstairs, but you were sure you looked visibly presentable. “You’re going to make it obvious.” 

Finally plucking up the courage, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, Seokjin following. Your Christmas playlist grew louder instantly and of course, the first person you saw was Jungkook, ass perched on your desk for some reason, snacking on a bowl of olives. He popped them like they were grapes. He better not have dripped olive oil over your keyboard, you’d kill him. 

“Ah, look who turned up to their own party,” he exclaimed, standing up. He dropped the bowl right next to your desktop and wiped his fingers into his jeans, striding towards you both. 

You took a deep breath and went for that Oscar. “Blame Seokjin,” you fumed. 

“Where the hell did you disappear to?” He laughed, directing his question to Seokjin who stood behind you still. 

“I, uh... I...” 

You rolled your eyes inwardly. If he fucked this up, well then, he wasn’t fucking you tonight…

“I went to grab a cake.” 

A fucking cake. He’d walked in empty handed. Great white lie there, Seokjin… 

Jungkook looked back and forth between you, his face contorting in confusion. “So... Where is the cake?” 

“Uh.” 

You needed to save this idiot. “Dummy forgot to order it,” you sneered, walking past Jungkook to grab the bowl of olives. 

“Hey,” Seokjin exclaimed, sounding way too offended for it to be acting, just as Jungkook burst into laughter. You didn’t know what Seokjin expected, he’d walked straight into that one. 

“I really thought she’d killed you,” Jungkook told his friend, whacking his shoulder. Seokjin’s eyes widened in warning, a hand coming out to karate slice the younger guy’s neck. 

“I went easy on him,” you grinned, stopping them before they started wrestling for real. “– Y’know, Christmas spirit and all that.” 

That caught Seokjin’s attention. You looked at one another properly for the first time since you’d stepped inside. Eyebrows raised he looked entertained. “You went easy on me?” 

“Yup,” you nodded, unable to hide your smirk.

His expression changed for a split second, a glimmer in his eyes that made you mildly feverish at the thought of him getting his hands on you later on. 

“Duly noted,” was all he replied, and you shared a smile before Jungkook interrupted. 

“I saved you both some food. Come on,” he motioned with his hand. 

“Thanks, JK,” Seokjin bellowed, clapping his back. 

You followed behind them, nerves easing up. “Yeah, thanks, Jungkook.” 

.

.

If anything, Seokjin was the one who got grilled the most during the rest of the party, he had been the one to disappear after all, so it was fun watching him squirm as Hoseok demanded answers. He looked a right fool for “forgetting” to order a cake, but he’d brought it all on himself so you couldn’t feel too sorry for him… 

He was also risking a lot when he felt up your ass as you were finding his stupid Secret Santa gift in your desk drawer, ready to exchange with everyone. You straightened up immediately, pushing his hand away just in case anyone noticed – Mina was literally a desk away from you, although she was too busy giggling at Jungkook who was acting up on the karaoke machine to notice anything. 

Seokjin winked as you glared at him. “Can’t wait for tonight.” 

You pointed your index finger between his eyes. “Behave or I’ll cancel.” 

But, you both knew you were just talking shit… 

Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #jin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:final sleigh

[manonblaqkbeak]

Sugar, sugar

(genuinely hate coming up with titles lol)

this is just rowaelin being pining idiots, one of my fave tropes for day 11--delayed love confession

just a note, the lifestyle in this fic is more of a background note and doesnt really take centre stage in this fic. it’s one ive been tempted to write for a while tbh but didnt really get around to it until now

cw: very, very light smut (like barely non existent, but just in case), a lil bit of swearing

enjoy! :)

3k words (officially my longest fic, yay!)

Every thought in Aelin's mind was blank. She trudged through her apartment that she shared with Nehemia, absentmindedly kicking off her heels that Rowan purchased for her months ago. Then the light jacket she wore joined the shoes, the fabric was perfectly soft and perfect for the autumn chill.

It was yet another piece of item that Rowan purchased for her. A lot of the things she had know were thanks to Rowan, either from his own wallet or from the biweekly allowance he sent her—a generous allowance that was a thousand times better than her weekly paycheck from the bookstore she'd been working at since she turned twenty-two; her business degree had turned out to be useless and so she turned to the bookstore that had been her stable job for three years.

Aelin barely touched her weekly wage now, it was practically buried underneath the money the Rowan gave her.

Because Rowan Whitethorn, thirty-five and a successful CEO who was well known, was her sugar daddy. Had been now for fourteen months. But he was more than that, more than just a man that paid her to spend time with him. He respected her, was loyal to her, listened to her and responded with actual sentences instead of a word or two like other men she had dated. He was charming, didn't treat her like she was nothing but arm candy, and she knew him so well, as he knew her, and each fortnight she sometimes forgot their whole arrangement, but she was sharply reminded when she received the notification from her bank that the two and a half thousand dollars that Rowan sent her was now in her savings account.

When she agreed to their arrangement after several get-to-know you dates, Rowan had wanted to give her three and a half grand every week, and gods Aelin had been tempted because she had never had so much money in her life, but told him that it was far too much and negotiated.

Two and a half thousand was the lowest that Rowan was willing to go, and even though Aelin only knew him for two weeks at that point, she could tell that he would not budge, so she agreed to the amount.

The first time that money had landed in her account, Aelin had thought that maybe she had imagined the whole thing, but the money was a sharp reminder of what she know was—a sugar baby. Those words still didn't feel like they applied to her.

And he still spent money on her when they spent time together. Just last week he gifted her with diamond earrings in the shapes of roses with a necklace to match. She wore them tonight, not because he bought them for her but because she genuinely loved the pieces.

Needing something sweet—despite the fact she had only finished her chocolate hazelnut gelato twenty minutes ago—she dug through her fridge and found the brownies that Nehemia had baked the other day. She told herself that she would leave some for her long-time friend, but Aelin really doubted that would happen.

Aelin relished in the cold air of the fridge as she found the new can of whipped cream on the top shelf. The fridge was one of the first things she purchased with the money she was now being gifted with (and after that came a new washer and dryer, a dish-washing machine and television. Almost everything in her apartment was brand new now, the food were actual brands instead of the generic, tasteless shit. She had bras that fit her properly and were so damned comfortable that she forgot she was wearing them half the time).

The old fridge was a cheap hunk of junk that she and Nehemia purchased off Facebook marketplace for a hundred dollars, it barely kept things cold, but with expensive rent and bills and general life things, Nehemia and her couldn't afford anything better.

Which was how she ended up in this situation. Picking up more shifts barely gave them anything extra, because the economy right now in Terrasen was shit. Nehemia had made a joke about needing sugar daddies, and Aelin, knowing that Nehemia could never really do such a thing, had decided that maybe it was a good idea.

Nehemia had told Aelin that she was insane for pursuing such a thing, and that she had only been joking, but Aelin was not and that she could handle herself if things went wrong.

Nehemia had told her not to do anything, but Aelin was determined and started her search. It had taken a while to find a website that was genuine and didn't make her feel like she had to scrub her eyes out with bleach.

She created her page in private, because she not only was Nehemia against the idea, but so was Elide and Lysandra—she didn't dare tell Aedion what she was doing. Her cousin could be an overprotective pain in her ass at times, and Aelin was very well aware that if Aedion caught wind of what she was doing, he would have locked her up in her room without any type of device so she couldn't go forward with her plan.

She appreciated their concern, she did, but she was a consenting, tax-paying adult, and if she wanted to use her time to get paid spending time with a rich man, then Aelin was allowed to do exactly that.

It wasn't prostitution, she had looked it up, because it was the sugar babies that had the power and so that was how it went with her and Rowan.

Aelin didn't even have sex with Rowan until it was the sixth month anniversary of her and Rowan's...relationship (and gods, it was the best sex Aelin ever had. Rowan was a generous and completely unselfish lover).

He was the first one she came across on the site and almost drooled down herself when she saw his picture. Silver hair, pine-green eyes, a beautiful tattoo down the length of his left arm and tanned skin, he was stupidly attractive and only ten years old than her.

Aelin messaged him first only after being on the site for ten minutes, deciding that surely he was the best one and that she needn't bother to look at any other candidates.

They hit it off straight away, and after deciding on a restaurant to meet at, Aelin had informed Nehemia of the matter, which she was promptly met with question after question: why can't a thirty-four year old man find someone his own age? Is he one of those men that can't date a woman five minutes older than him because of some stupid made up reason? How do you know for certain that it's him in the picture? What if he's cat-fishing you? What if he's a freak, or a killer? What if he's just pretending to be rich to kidnap you? What if, what if, what if?

And so after a heated discussion, Nehemia had come along on her date-that-wasn't-really-a-date and sat a few tables away from her and Rowan, watching them—especially him—the entire time like a hawk.

Aelin had completely forgotten that her friend was there, so enraptured by Rowan and what he did and how he saw life.

It had been fourteen months of seeing Rowan and genuinely enjoying spending time with him and weeks ago, she realised that she wanted it to be something more. That she had come to care for him, not because of the money, but purely because it was Rowan and he made her feel seen and he wasn't afraid of her, because she had once been told by an ex that she could be too much and that he couldn't handle all her baggage.

Aelin wanted a life with him.

So Aelin told Rowan she loved him when he dropped her off tonight after their dinner and a movie date, telling him how she felt, and he had said thank you. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and went home, leaving behind the pine-and-snow scent of him.

Aelin really wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die.

She was scarfing down her third brownie when Nehemia's bedroom door opened, her friend clad in an old matching pj set, her slippers shuffling across the tile.

“What happened? Are you okay?” her friend asked upon seeing Aelin's guttered look. Her dark brows furrowed. “Did that bastard hurt you? If he did, I'll—”

“He didn't do anything,” Aelin interrupted her friend. Taking the food, Aelin planted herself on the teal blue velvet sofa Rowan gave her for Yulemas last year, ignoring the scent of not just him, but of them both from when he came over after work just the other day with pizza and a DVD that she insisted that she watched because it was too good not to, when they forgot all about the movie as Rowan buried himself inside her, leaving hickeys all over her neck that she had to cover up with thick concealer.

Nehemia joined her on the couch, her friend momentarily forgetting for now that she had walked in on her and Rowan just moments after they finished, muttering under her breath in Eyllwe as she glared at them defiling the couch, and gave her a look that Aelin knew that Nehemia would listen to every word that came out from her.

And when Aelin was done recounting the story, all Nehemia could come up with was, “Oh.”

“Yes, 'oh,'. I've probably fucked up the whole thing. So don't be surprised if I call you on your lunch break tomorrow telling you he's broken things off.”

“Aelin, I don't think he will. I know that I'm not the biggest fan of your...situation—”

“I'm aware,” Aelin said, cutting her friend off. “You still won't let me buy you a new mattress, even though yours is hard as a brick and lumpy as hell. I've told you that you can pay me—”

“Aelin,” Nehemia said, “we're not talking about mattresses right now. As I was saying, I doubt he'll break things off because I've seen the way he looks at you. I still think he's too old for you, but he cares for you. You probably just caught him by surprise.”

“How does he look at me?” Aelin was observant, but sometimes when she was with Rowan, all her observation skills went out the window.

“Like he loves you,” Nehemia said, no hint of doubt in her voice.

Aelin sighed, her feelings slowly starting to crush her. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”

Sighing once more, Aelin put the food back in the fridge, showered and went to bed, forgoing her usual night texting ritual with Rowan.

She really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't concentrate, which wasn't a good thing, since his job dealt with having to concentrate all the time. But no matter what mind-focusing techniques he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Aelin.

Couldn't stop thinking about how she said she was in love with him. How her beautiful eyes had been sparkling when she said those words to him. And how the light in them dimmed when he said thank you and kissed her on the cheek, telling her that he would talk to her later. But he hadn't texted her, nor did she.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you. He really couldn't believe that was what he said. Felt like an utter fool and a bastard as he realised he probably crushed her heart. Aelin didn't like being vulnerable, and she had been when she said those words and he had gone and fucked it all up.

Rowan loved Aelin, he did, but he truly wasn't prepared for those words. He loved how on the weekends they would be up at one am, baking chocolate goodies, dancing in the quiet kitchen, humming quietly to Aelin's classical music playlist, with her wearing not the nightgowns that he loved, but one of his old hoodies.

He didn't think that he would get along with her so well once they met, thinking that their online interactions were nothing but a fluke. He was moments away from deleting the profile because he didn't actually create it, but Fenrys had, his friend grumbling that he needed a girlfriend, with Rowan arguing that creating a profile on a sugar daddy site was not dating but probably the opposite, when Aelin messaged him.

His life-long friend didn't listen, much to Rowan's annoyance—but he didn't grab his phone out of his friends hand; Rowan blamed it on the several whiskys he had downed by that point.

Aelin bewitched him on that first meet up. She was intelligent as hell and funny, and creative and beautiful. He was aware of why she was on the date with him, but he didn't care, just as long as he got to see her again.

Fourteen months later and Rowan was still bewitched. He wanted to be with her on a permanent basis, but wasn't completely sure how to take that step.

Clearly, Aelin had taken that step for them, and Rowan was the worlds biggest moron.

I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.

Thank you.

Groaning, Rowan turned away from his computer and looked at the skyline, ignoring the buildings to instead watch the puffy clouds drift by.

Aelin loved watching the clouds, loved stargazing, loved questioning about the universe and what the skies held.

He never really paid any of that stuff attention, not until he met her.

Rowan didn't want to lose her, didn't want her to think that he was about to break up with her over this. He had to see her, so he grabbed his keys and wallet, told his secretary to hold his calls for the rest of the day, and went to visit Aelin.

X X X X X X

It had been an usually busy day for a Wednesday and Aelin was glad for her lunch break as she trudged up to the roof of the shopping centre. She wasn't really allowed up here, but she wanted some fresh air and to feel the sun against her skin as she sat down and dug into her lunch—fast food, unfortunately for her, because she was so frazzled from last night that she completely forgot about making a pack lunch.

Rowan hadn't called her, or texted her. Not even an email had been sent her way.

Aelin hated that she felt so damned mopey. She was an independent woman, but gods, even a good morning text would have been fine.

She finished her lunch, popping several mints into her mouth to get rid of the onion taste, when the roof door crashed open and a familiar hulking figure came into view.

He must have spoken to Elide to find her here.

Aelin's brow furrowed. “Rowan, what are you doing here?” Oh gods, surely he wasn't going to break up with her, she still had hours to go; there'd be no way she could work if she had tears in her eyes.

Taking her hands in his, Aelin stood up. She steeled herself against whatever he was going to say.

“I love you, Aelin. I'm in love with you, too,” Rowan said, his eyes soft and full of genuine love. Aelin's heart shot up into her throat. “I want a life with you. I want us to buy a home, one that has warmth and character, and a big garden. I want a dog. And kids too, if you want, I know that you've never mentioned it, but if you don't want any then that is completely fine. I want to support you in whatever endeavors you want to take, and if you ever want to go back to university, then I'll support you, or if you want to find a way to use your business degree, I'll help you with that, too. Whatever you want Aelin, I'll give it to you, as long as you're by my side, I'll be happy.”

Aelin was silent for so long that Rowan thought that maybe he shocked her into silence. But eventually, she smiled, one that was dazzling in its beauty that it took his breath away.

“You love me?”

“I do, Aelin, I love you.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Rowan groaned at the amusement in her tone, in her eyes. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She smirked. “Definitely not. It'll be a nice story to tell our children...one day. For now, I think we should contend with being proper significant others.”

Rowan nodded, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because I need to get back to work, since I'm no longer accepting your allowances. I won't deny the use of your credit card, but other than that, you are no longer my sugar daddy.”

It was Rowan's turned to smirk, and it was the one that made her core clench. “How about I be 'daddy' instead?”

Aelin snorted, even as she clenched around nothing again. Smacking his arm lightly, Aelin kissed him. “Only if you behave,” she said against his lips, “and now I really need to go back to work.”

Rowan walked her back, their fingers laced together, and as she turned to say goodbye, Aelin said, “I'll see you later, daddy.”

Rowan groaned, and it took everything in him not to take her hand and into his car to have his wicked way with her.

By the time he thought of a response, Aelin was already back to work, helping a customer with an impressive stack of books in her arms.

But she knew he was still there, because the way she swayed her hips to the counter was all for him, and when she saw him watching her, Aelin winked, making Rowan's heart flutter in his chest.

He really did love her. And he would live with her teasing him for the rest of his life, just as long as she was with him.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

[astradrifting]

A Dream of Spring, and variations thereof

The phrase ‘a dream [for] spring’ only occurs once in the text of ASOIAF, in the chapter where Jon and the wildlings arrive in Queenscrown. Jon remembers Ned and Benjen discussing a plan to resettle the Gift with new lords.

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. “It is a dream for spring, though,” Lord Eddard had said. “Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on.”

(Jon V, ASOS)

Given that Jon remembers it quite well, this conversation likely happened in the long summer just before the start of AGOT, meaning that the spring Ned was speaking of is actually the one that will come at the end of the series.

It might just be a quirk of how asearchoficeandfire’s search engine works, but searching the phrases “a dream of/for spring” comes up with only two other results within the main books. The first one is from Ned’s POV:

The memory came creeping upon him in the darkness, as vivid as a dream. It was the year of false spring, and he was eighteen again, down from the Eyrie to the tourney at Harrenhal.

(AGOT, Eddard XV)

The second one is from Jaime’s POV:

The castleton outside the walls had been burned to ash and blackened stone, and many men and horses had recently encamped beside the lakeshore, where Lord Whent had staged his great tourney in the year of the false spring. A bitter smile touched Jaime's lips as they crossed that torn ground. Someone had dug a privy trench in the very spot where he'd once knelt before the king to say his vows. I never dreamed how quick the sweet would turn to sour.

(ASOS, Jaime IV)

It’s interesting that throughout the whole series, a connection between dream imagery and spring only ever comes up in association with the Tourney of Harrenhal, set during the year of the false spring. It was a period of time that could be considered ‘a dream of spring’ too, in a much more negative sense. Though everyone thought winter had broken, the warm weather only lasted a couple of months before the cold winds came again. At the same time, the relative peace of the realm was shattering after the tourney. It was possibly intended to be the start of change, as Rhaegar might have planned to use it to gather a council deposing Aerys, but whatever was intended never went through and Rhaegar just caused brand new problems. It was a dream of spring in that the spring wasn’t real, it was fleeting and followed quickly by winter, and a war that ravaged the Seven Kingdoms.

The Ned and Jaime passages both carry on this theme. Jaime states it explicitly, that the sweet turned sour quickly, while Ned goes on to describe the dreamlike, idyllic atmosphere of the tourney, up until the moment it all went wrong:

He could see the deep green of the grass, and smell the pollen on the wind. Warm days and cool nights and the sweet taste of wine. He remembered Brandon's laughter, and Robert's berserk valor in the melee, the way he laughed as he unhorsed men left and right.

[...]

Robert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsing Ser Barristan in the final tilt to claim the champion's crown. Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost.

(AGOT, Eddard XV)

The only time spring and dream imagery is linked together positively is in the Jon passage above, which talks about a plan for renewal and stability in an area that has faced a lot of turmoil, but one that must be put off until after the coming winter. That it contains nearly word for word the title of the last book is pretty strong foreshadowing that this plan will become relevant, hopefully that Jon will be able to carry out his father-uncles’ dream to resettle the Gift.

The Tourney of Harrenhal was arguably the beginning of Jon’s story; where his parents first encountered each other, the catalyst for the whole political situation at the beginning of the series.

It’d be poetic if Jon’s story was bookended by a false hope of spring at the start, and the true dreams of spring at the end. The situation after Harrenhal is already being set up in reverse for the end of the series. The harshest winter in years has just arrived. War has already ravaged the Seven Kingdoms, and there are only more wars yet to come. But by the end, even if it’s still winter there will be hope for a real spring - Jon’s attempt to depose an unsuitable monarch is going to go much better than Rhaegar’s, and he’ll get a chance to enact Ned’s plans for the Gift with the wildlings.

Incidentally, the last search result for “a dream of spring” is from The Mystery Knight. Dunk is talking to Daemon II, a Blackfyre prince who has hidden himself as a man with dark hair called John the Fiddler. They have a discussion about John/Daemon’s dreams, during which Dunk recalls a memory of another tourney held in the spring:

"I dreamed it. This pale white castle, you, a dragon bursting from an egg, I dreamed it all, just as I once dreamed of my brothers lying dead. They were twelve and I was only seven, so they laughed at me, and died. I am two-and-twenty now, and I trust my dreams." Dunk was remembering another tourney, remembering how he had walked through the soft spring rains with another princeling. I dreamed of you and a dead dragon, Egg's brother Daeron said to him. 

The tourney Dunk is referring to is, of course, our beloved Ashford Tourney :)

#astra rambles #jonsa #forgive the pretentious title pls it just fit so well #half speculation half 'my wildest dreams and hopes' #meta #jon snow

[blandwitt63]

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[bittydragon]

The Problems Arising (The Festival)

First - Previous - Next

Notes: :)

Warnings: Character Death

Tubbo had barely woken up when Schlatt’s voice rang out, announcing his entrance.

“Tubbo, my man! Today’s the day!” Tubbo sat up sleepily, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Normally Schlatt would’ve let him sleep longer than this. He seemed very excited at the moment though. 

Tubbo wracked his brain for what possibly could’ve been today that had got Schlatt so excited. The tired feeling almost completely disappeared when he remembered. 

The festival was today!

Normally, Tubbo wouldn’t be this excited for an event like this, but Schlatt had told him that he could attend as long as he stayed hidden. Now, he would’ve stayed hidden regardless. He didn’t need anyone else knowing about him or borrowers, but he appreciated Schlatt’s concern.

The past couple weeks had been strange for Tubbo. Schlatt had started getting better, he wasn’t as violent and angry towards him. He even called him son at one point. 

It made the borrower happy, knowing he’d officially gained Schlatt’s trust. The president still wasn’t a good person by any means- plus the man drank way too much to be healthy. But he trusted Tubbo, and that was progress.

Tubbo quickly made his way to his feet and stared up at Schlatt, who was looming over the enclosure with a big smile on his face. It was an unnerving sight for the borrower but he decided not to say anything, instead opting for smiling up at the president.

“It’s the big day, sir! Your festival! Is everything all set up and ready?” Schlatt continued to grin and lifted the top of the enclosure off. The man reached inside and grabbed Tubbo in a fist. The borrower resisted the urge to squirm in the grip as it was a bit too tight. 

“Well of course it is! Everything is going perfectly as planned.” Tubbo only faked a grin up at Schlatt. He had to play nice with the man in order to be able to go to the festival.

If he was being honest, Tubbo was getting tired. Tired of everything happening and of Schlatt and Quackity. He didn’t really have to interact with the duck hybrid too much, but those moments were still tense. It was easier whenever Schlatt wasn’t around, but those moments were few and far between.

Tubbo hoped he would at least be able to see Tommy and Wilbur at the festival. He knew they were exiled and weren’t actually allowed in the country, but he also knew those two were the types to have something planned. Wilbur was bound to have a plan for something to happen at the festival, he had to. 

That was the main reason Tubbo was excited to go, he would be able to see whatever chaos the brothers would cause. It made them rescuing him more difficult, but he didn’t mind. He was in good standings with Schlatt, so he was fine.

Tubbo was yanked out of his thoughts when he was roughly deposited into a stuffy pocket. The material was scratchy and uncomfortable, reminding him of the suit he was currently forced to wear. It wasn’t too difficult to identify this as being Schlatt’s pocket. So despite the discomfort, he was going to have to deal with it for the rest of the day.

He shifted around in the pocket in order to rest on his knees and tried to get a look at the world outside. A finger suddenly came in and pushed his head down, shoving him back into the stuffy pocket with a yelp.

“You may be allowed to come with me to the festival, but under no circumstances will you show yourself off to my citizens. Stay in the pocket.” Tubbo wanted to protest, what was the use of going with Schlatt if he couldn’t see anything? Instead, he held back his grumbles and settled down in the pocket as if it was a hammock.

“Yes sir.” Schlatt seemed satisfied with the answer as he responded with an affirmative huff. 

All of a sudden, everything began to move. Tubbo just sat in the pocket as Schlatt made his way outside to join the festivities that had already begun.

“Schlatt!” Tubbo bit back a yelp as Schlatt was suddenly crushed in a hug from no one other than Quackity. That was one of the things Tubbo hated about the vice president, he knew nothing about personal space.

This time wasn’t any different as Quackity unknowingly pressed the borrower tightly against the president’s chest. He gasped for breath when Quackity finally pulled away and he felt the lurch of Schlatt being dragged towards everyone else at the festival. 

His chest hurt from the pressure of the hug, but there was little he could do as he couldn’t leave the pocket he was in.

From Schlatt’s pocket, Tubbo could hear everyone else’s conversations around them. He heard Niki talking to Fundy about her new bread recipe and Bad yelling at Quackity for swearing. He also heard a new voice, a deep voice that was unfamiliar to the borrower. 

Was it someone who was passing through the country when the festival had started? It must be, Tubbo would’ve recognized them if they were a citizen of Manberg.

The festival was boring for the borrower. Being trapped in a stuffy suit pocket made all the different activities and entertainment pointless as he couldn’t do or even see any of them. They were also around people almost the entire time so Tubbo couldn’t even risk a glance, not like he wanted to. He’d rather as few people know of his existence as possible.

A few hours after the festival had started, Schlatt and Quackity both stood on a podium. The duck hybrid tapped on the microphone and began his opening speech as Schlatt stood slightly behind him, watching over the president’s shoulder as if waiting for anything suspicious to occur.

Tubbo tuned out the speech and took this opportunity to finally take a peek out of the pocket. As carefully as he could, he poked his head out of the pocket and surveyed his surroundings. 

The podium was very well built but Tubbo expected nothing less from Schlatt. He’d probably hired the best he could find to make sure everything looked perfect. 

Whether Schlatt had paid the architect was a completely different story, but that didn’t matter to the borrower at the moment.

Suddenly, movement from the top of a building caught Tubbo’s eye. He looked up to try and figure out what was moving on the building, expecting to see a bird or maybe a stray mob. 

What he didn’t expect to see was Wilbur and Tommy leaning over the edge of the building, watching intently as the speeches went on. Tubbo slapped a hand over his mouth to stop the excited gasp from leaving him.

They actually came! He’d hoped that they were here to try and do something to Schlatt. Maybe they would take a stand and try to start an uprising. They did have some allies in this crowd, after all, so they would have an actual chance.

What bothered Tubbo though was how worried his best friend looked. Tommy normally went into every situation with overconfidence that would always get him into near-death situations. But now, now he looked scared. The way he kept glancing between Wilbur and the podium gave the borrower a bad feeling.

And when he looked at Wilbur the bad feeling only worsened. Something about the way he stared at Schlatt with an unwavering gaze made an uneasy feeling grow within the borrower. It felt... unnatural, it felt wrong.

Wilbur and Tommy suddenly both ducked back out of sight as Quackity began introducing Schlatt to the microphone. Tubbo ducked back into the pocket, not exactly wanting to be seen now that Schlatt was in the center of attention.

“Look at our fine country! Our beautiful Manberg deserves to be celebrated like this, don’t you all think!” Some cheers rang out from the crowd, though Tubbo noticed how some of them definitely sounded forced. He didn’t blame them, their country was changed so much once Schlatt became president.

Tubbo felt bad for the citizens of what was once L’Manburg. They were all people of a proud country, a country that fought for their independence. Now they had to listen to the new president- the dictator who had completely taken over their country and changed it completely.

No one deserved it, especially the people who were targeted by Schlatt himself. Niki was one of the hardest hit. Her taxes were raised constantly, Tubbo wasn’t entirely sure how she kept up with them.

Not wanting to think about that sort of stuff right now, Tubbo zoned back into Schlatt’s speech.

“And now we only have one issue left at hand. It has come to my attention that there is a traitor in our midst.” Tubbo froze. He’d been so good at keeping everyone’s secrets. Was it Niki? Fundy? Who’d Schlatt find out about and how had he even found out about them?

“The saddest thing is that it was someone I hold close to me. I really did trust them, but they have been going behind my back for quite some time now. It saddens me, but we all know what happens to traitors.” Schlatt paused for a moment, staring out over the crowd of people. 

“Nothing good.”

Tubbo was given no time to react as fingers reached into the pocket and harshly wrapped around him. He closed his eyes as he was yanked into the open, the sudden light change being too much for him right now.

The crowd began to murmur in shock at the sight of him. He could hear the shocked gasps and whispers as they all tried to figure out what he was and why he was so small.

“My fine friends, have you all ever heard of borrowers?”

Tubbo opened his eyes again and stared in horror at the massive crowd of people he was being shown off to. They all stared at him in varying degrees of shock. The only people whose expressions he couldn’t read were Dream’s and a piglin’s, whom the borrower hadn’t seen before today.

“This here is Tubbo.” Schlatt seemed to pay no mind to how shocked everyone was, instead opting to continue his speech as normal. “He’s been a close member of my cabinet and I truly did trust him. But it seems as if he has decided I haven’t treated him well enough. I gave him clothes, food, a place to sleep, and he repays me with betrayal.”

Tubbo began trying to squirm out of Schlatt’s grasp. This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all. On top of the fact that now an entire country knew about him and his species, Schlatt had somehow found out about his traitorous actions. And Tubbo knew exactly how Schlatt felt about traitors, the man wasn’t subtle about that piece of information.

“Technoblade. Could you come to the podium please?”

Tubbo stilled as he watched the piglin stranger freeze up in shock before awkwardly making his way up to the podium. So that was his name. For being such an intimidating-looking guy, with an intimidating-sounding name too, he seemed to be pretty awkward.

That didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking as the piglin stood next to Schlatt, easily towering over the borrower, he was huge. So when Schlatt suddenly dropped him into the hooved hands of the piglin, Tubbo would definitely admit he was beyond scared.

Tubbo yelped as Technoblade fumbled with the borrower before gently holding him in his hands. The piglin looked around confused before settling his gaze on Schlatt. The ram’s smile sent a shiver down both his and the piglin’s spines.

“Techno, I’d like you to take care of him for me. That shouldn’t be too hard for someone like you.” Tubbo paled. He shook a bit and whipped his gaze towards Technoblade. He knew exactly what Schlatt was implying.

“Take care of him? Like, keep him safe?” Tubbo stared up at the piglin, confused and a bit angry at him for misinterpreting the command. He must’ve been an idiot for not knowing what Schlatt meant. 

Though he did notice how Technoblade kept glancing up to the top of the building where Wilbur and Tommy were as if asking a silent question.

Tubbo let his gaze linger up there as well, only to notice a terrified-looking Tommy, meanwhile, Wilbur nowhere to be seen. He didn’t blame Tommy though, he’s pretty sure if nobody stops this then the blond was about to watch his best friend die.

Schlatt just narrowed his eyes at Technoblade’s response. “Kill him Techno. I’m the president, the blood doesn’t go on my hands. That’s what you’re here for.”

The silence following that confirmation was deafening. 

Not one person in the crowd dared to speak, everyone in too much shock at the events playing out before them to speak anyways. Even Tubbo stilled at the words and kept his horrified gaze on the piglin holding him. 

He- he wouldn’t actually kill him… right?

The blank look Technoblade was giving him was nowhere near reassuring though. Tubbo’s eyes widened as fingers began wrapping around his body. By the time he attempted to squirm away, the grip had already become too tight.

“P-please! Please don’t do this! Please don’t!” Techno just stared down at him with the blank stare, though Tubbo could’ve sworn he saw a small look of remorse flicker in his eyes like a silent apology for what was about to happen.

He screamed as the pressure only continued to tighten around him and black dots filled his vision. Soon, his own screams cut out as the grip became too tight and he couldn’t breathe.

As Tubbo felt himself slowly fading away, he heard the familiar sound of an ender pearl shattering before someone rammed into Technoblade, forcing the piglin to let go of the borrower and drop him to the podium floor.

Tubbo closed his eyes, letting the darkness consume him. Faintly, he heard the angry voice of his best friend and something similar to fireworks going off around him, but he ignored it all in favor of falling asleep.

Neither Tommy nor Technoblade noticed how the small body vanished into thin air, only a small puff of smoke remaining.

#mcyt #mcyt gt #tiny!tubbo #giant!schlatt #giant!quackity #giant!techno #giant!tommy #giant!wilbur #tubbo #jschlatt #quackity #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #bitty writes #part 3 #borrower tubbo saga #tw character death #probably the only time I'm gonna write character death #did yall guess correctly? #:)

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “In the Ambience.”

Had a conversation on discord last night where I became aware that I left Sunny and Adam’s interactions at a place where it was sort of nervous and awkward. So thank you DZ for talking that through with me.

I am not really well versed in writing relationships, and I didn’t want it to overshadow the rest of my writing, so I pulled back from it, but I think I pulled back too hard. So if you care about the Sunny/Adam dynamic, I wrote a story this morning to acknowledge that. Hope you like it, and I hope you all have a great day. 

She got up in the dark, with only the dim ambience of soft blue lighting to accompany her. She stretched all four arms, and rolled her neck. It struck her as mildly interesting in that moment, how something so small could connect them to humans, The thought was fleeting as she took another step forward to kneel down on the floor. There, in a little alcove in the wall, she had set a volcanic rock from Anin, dried moss, and other paraphernalia from her home world. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath resting her hands together.

Praise and respect to the spirits of Anin. Praise the fathers and mothers of war gone to their rest below the moss and the earth. Praise their spirits that watch from the sky and peer through the ether down upon us.

She continued the slow mantra in the style of Prayer learned from Naktan and pulled her concentration to her core ignoring anything and everything around her. A deep state of meditation overtook her. She would never have done this if she  thought there were any chance that she was in danger, but below she knew Earth glowed like a sphere before their orbiting ship. There was no worry of invasion.

She thought she heard something at one point, but chose to ignore it as she continued her mantra.

Eventually, and after an unknown amount of minutes, she stood and turned slowly to find-

She stopped, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing.”

Adam burrowed his way further down into her blankets nuzzling his head up against her pillow, “So warm, and comfy!”

She tried not to smile, “You dumbass.”

He pulled the blankets tighter around himself, “You know, I did come here to talk to you, but I actually really am comfortable, so come back in two hours.”

“I-”

He closed his eyes and pretended to snore loudly.

She rolled her eyes as she watched him theatrically pretend to sleep. She looked around mildly for a moment before picking up another pillow and glancing at the door. She casually walked over, dropped the pillow on his head and then held it down as if she intended to smother him.

That got him up and moving.

Before long the two of them were grappling for the upper hand, him trying to put her in a choke hold, and her using her lower arms to pinch him.

He yelped, “Ouch! Pinching is illegal.”

“SIssy.”

He clamped his legs around her lower arms pinning them in place. SHe struggled for a minute and then went limp.

SHe could feel his smug smile, “I win, I beat the saint of Anin. Everyone bow at my feet.”

“You say that, but if this were a real fight, you’re the one with a self destruct button.”

“Self-destruct button…?”

“Meaning if this were a real fight, I would have punched you in the balls.”

“Please don’t”

Finally he let her go, leaving the two of them to lay on her bed, sheets scattered on the floor around them, and her pillows in disarray. Adam put his hands behind his head and sighed.

She glanced over at him, “I don’t suppose you came to just hang out. Here on Admiral-ly business?”

He groaned pulling one of her pillows over his face, “Please smother me for real this time.”

SHe leaned up on one of her elbows, “Why?”

“I don’t wanna be an adult anymore,” She tilted her head to the side watching in amusement as he attempted to throw a childlike tantrum, but only really had the energy to kick his feet once, “It’s boring and lame and they wont let me wear heelies to important meetings…. Children don’t have to pay taxes.”

She laughed, pulling the pillow from his face, “Adam you are many things, but ‘adult’ is not one of them.”

He grinned slightly, “True enough.” He sighed again and rested his head back against the pillows, “I just want to get back to what we are supposed to be doing, exploring the universe and making cool alien friends.” He threw up his hands in frustration, “But Suddenly I find myself embroiled in stupid annoying politics that I don’[t understand, being used by people who are, lets face it, WAY smarter than me, constantly finding myself getting manipulated.”

She huffed, “They aren’t smarter than you Adam, they’re just manipulative, and you aren't.”

He sighed, “Fair enough.” Then he looked at her, bright green eyes reflecting the soft ambient blue light, “I just, I miss this, I miss us, I miss hanging out and doing stupid shit, and all of the things I could do when I wasn’t so important and this operation was smaller.”

She smiled rather sadly reaching one hand over for his, lacing the four of her fingers through the five of his, “Well someone has to do the hard things, who better than you.” 

He glanced over at her raising an eyebrow, “Or you, miss saint”

She rolled her eyes again, “Can’t seem to get you off of that. I’m still the same person I used to be.”

“But with power.”

She elbowed him gently and he grinned, “But really, I am proud and impressed and…. Let's be honest super super smug that ‘I’ know you personally.”

“I know, I am pretty terrific.”

The two of them laughed for a minute before settling down again. He glanced over to her little shrine on the wall, “What were you doing just then?”

She looked up at the ceiling, following the lines of metal and rivets with her eyes, “Praying to the spirits of Anin.”

Embarrassed, he shifted, “I didn’t know you were….. Well I didn’t think you were all that religious?”

SHe shrugged, “Don’t feel bad, it’s sort of a new thing. Back before all this, it was sort of just stories to me. Like I believed it because that was what everyone believed, but I didn’t really accept it, or feel it the way I do now. After everything with my mother, it was hard to feel connected to something I felt I wasn’t a part of….. But then after visiting my mother, after becoming a saint for a religion I never really followed…. Well it started to make more sense. It feels real now in a way that it never did.” She turned to look at him, finding him watching her, the UV blue stripes in his skin glowing blue.

“I believe in the spirits of Anin more than I ever have.”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand, “I’m glad to hear it.”

They lapsed into silence for a long moment staring up at the ceiling before, inevitably he broke it, “So this makes you like, space Moses.”

She frowned and turned to look at him, “What is a Moses?”

He grinned, “A guy from one of the Earth Religions. You know guy follows god’s directions to lead his people away from slavery, climbs a moutain, recieves the word of god, comes down to give it to the people, that sort of thing.”

Sunny tilted her head slightly to the side, “Are you religious?”

He paused, frowning, “I…. well I…. don’t really know. My family has been some flavor of Christian for a long time.”

“Christian?”

“Uh yeah, The general idea is that there is one all powerful deity who created everything. He has rules and laws that you are supposed to follow, The general tenants of this specific religion mostly boil down to, love everyone and don’t be a dick, which humans are notoriously bad at. You sin you go to hell, a very bad place after you die, and if you are a good person you go to heaven. Problem is everyone is a sinner and breaks the rules, so really no one was going to get into heaven.”

“That sounds bleak….”

“Well that's where the other stuff comes in. Basically this all powerful deity sent down his son in human form to live a perfect life, so when he was martyred he took on the sins of all of humanity and paid for them in the greatest act of mercy to open the gate for the rest of us into heaven.”

Sunny shifted as he tilted to the side to lay in the crook of her arms, “Of course that is just one religion among tons on earth, we aren’t really as cohesive in our beliefs as Drev are….. As for me…. I’m not really sure.”

She tilted her head to the side, cheek resting against his hair, “After seeing space, I become more and more convinced of some….. Thing that created everything, but beyond that it's sort of a tossup.”

She ran one hand through his hair, course but still soft somehow.

“You know my name comes from that religion.”

She turned her head to look at him, “Oh.”

“Adam was the first man.”

“WHat do you mean.:”

Adam shrugged, “He was supposedly the first man that god created, from the dust of the earth…. I think?”

She gave him a sidelong glance, “Look, and you get to be the first idiot in space.”

He snorted and poked her in the ribs.

“There were PLENTY of idiots in space before me, believe you me.”

“Mmm I don’t know, you are pretty dumb.”

He laughed, grabbing a pillow and hitting her with it. She rolled over so she was lying on top of him and then went limp.

He struggled, “Get your big ass off me.”

“Oh no, I have been attacked by a sudden acute case of the, my spine doesn't work anymore disease.”

“If you don’t move, you’ll suddenly find yourself with a case of fist in your face disease.”

She laughed and rolled off him, making su7re the hard parts of her carapace were sticking down for maximum discomfort. 

He grunted.

They returned to lying down next to each other in the half darkness. Sunny reached over and turned on some quiet music in the background as the two of them sat and talked, and laughed.

“I can’t wait to get back to deep space.” He closed his eyes and hummed softly at the thought, “Just the crew and the darkness and nothing ahead of us but an endless frontier.”

Surprisingly, she found the thought to be more than a little comforting, and closed her eyes thinking about the vast reaches of blackness and the endless spinning galaxies. 

“And while we are out we can drop Conn into a pulsar.”

He snorted,

“That billowy bastard would survive and you know it.”

She huffed, “Still though, if I have to hear one more smug lecture how he has a child with you, I’m gonna wring his scrawny neck.”

He grinned teeth flashing blue in the light, “Is someone;.... Jealous?”

Sunny laughed, almost tipping him off the bed and onto the floor with her mirth, “Yes Adam, I am totally jealous, really I am. I mean who wouldn’t want to have a child with YOU, big dumb, dork. Really the perfect place to put my superior genes.”

“Superior genes, says someone who can’t reach the top shelf.”

She kicked him foot clanging off his prosthetic, “I am a foot taller than you.”

He placed his hand next to his ear, “What was that, I can’t hear you over how short you are.”

Sunny shook her head, “At least I have binocular vision and both my knees.”

“And weird neck nostrils, don’t forget about those.”

“Oh yes so I can house them on my face like you and your bigass nose.”

“Low blow, low blow.”

“There are…. Lower things…. I could make fun of.”

He snorted, “Can’t make fun of it if you’ve never seen it. You on the other hand, walking around in the nude.”

“You’re welcome. Who wouldn’t love.” Sse gestured to herself, “This.”

“Mmm yes,.... chitin , very sexy.”

“I am a gift to the universe, and should be appreciated by everyone.” He brushed a hand through his hair, “Well I find that real gifts are gift wrapped, so jot that down.”

“Oh yeah, like a prank gift when you put something lame in a box for something cool.”

He frowned at her, “You wound me,. My feelings are so very very hurt. I might even cry.”

“I drink human tears.”

“That, that’s really gross.’

She laughed and then they lapsed into silence. She could hear him breathing quietly next to her in the darkness, his chest rising and falling under the ambient blue light. She looked across the room to where her saint armor was hanging in it’s climate controlled case illuminated to a pearly sheen.

“Adam.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I’m just kidding about calling you dumb riught.”

“Yeah I know.”

“I’m proud of what you’ve been doing.”

Adam turned to look at her rather incredulous, “Me, of what? I haven’t been doing shit.”

“So we are just going to ignore you overthrowing a maniacal politician while simultaneously piloting a 2,000 year old spacecraft?”

“That was more Conn and Eris than it was me,”

“It was your idea.”

“Lets not forget Admiral Kelly.”

Sunny pulled him closer, “I am sorry, I will not be accepting anything other than you acknowledging that you did a good job.”

“Screw you.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.”

He sighed, “You’ve been talking to Ramirez WAY too much.”

She was only slightly smug as she rested her head back against the pillow, “I really should get up and train.”

“We should.”

Neither of them movies.

“Alternatively we could just…. Lay here…. All day and do… nothing .”

She looked up at the ceiling for a long moment and pretended to be in deep contemplation before “Well it’s official, you have convinced me. You and your silver tongue.”

“I am a master negotiator.”

He shifted position putting one arm behind his head, “Think about it, by this time tomorrow we will be back to space exploring and doing what we should have been doing all along. I can’t wait.”

“That makes two of us.”

[ladyblogger-margie]

Jane Austen Movie Night

Pairing: Marcus Pike (The Mentalist) x GN!Reader 

Summary: Hiding your feelings for your best friend Marcus Pike is difficult during your weekly movie night.

Warnings: None, just fluff. 

Word Count: 1220

Prompt: “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more”

a/n: I really liked the 2020 Emma. movie and that one line makes me swoon every time, and so does Marcus Pike. 

MY MASTERLIST

Marcus opened the door mere seconds after you knocked. He smiled first at you and then at the pizza box and the six-pack of beers in your hand. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said to you and your heart fluttered. You ignored the faint heat in your cheeks and tried to push down the feelings you had for your best friend away and ignore them as you should. 

You met FBI agent Marcus Pike at a gallery at random a couple of years ago. He was there for pleasure, not work for a change, and you had been there on a truly terrible first date. Your date was somehow both incredibly boring and incredibly condescending all at once. Marcus had swooped in to save you and correct the boring misinformation your date was spouting. 

Thankfully, Marcus had pretended to be an old friend and your date didn’t put up too much of a fight about his presence. You and Marcus didn’t even notice your date had left until he was long gone. The two of you finished the tour together and have been friends ever since. 

Since then, Marcus has grown to become one of your closest friends, actually your best friend. He was such an easy guy to be around. He liked the same movies you did, and was comfortable in casual and fancier situations. 

Was it any surprise that you had fallen head over heels for a man this sweet?

Though you also knew him well enough to know he wasn’t perfect, but that’s how you knew for sure you guys were close - he let you see his flaws too. 

He could be intense to a point where it was intimidating. His sincerity sometimes was so overwhelming it felt suffocating. He also carried with him some abandonment issues that led him to some jealousy and while that was understandable based on his history, it could also be taxing. 

His unfortunate relationship history was the biggest reason you had never said anything to him about your feelings for him. He had told you numerous times that just how important to him your friendship was to him, how the stability of you in his life was something vital that he had grown dependent on. You couldn’t risk being another person who tore his life apart, not when being his friend was a true joy all its own. 

So, there you were at your weekly movie night at Marcus’ apartment with pizza and beer and completely, silently in love with your best friend. 

It was your turn to pick the movie this week and you were scrolling through one of his many streaming services looking for something interesting. You stopped over the latest adaptation of Emma.

“What do you think?” you asked him, gesturing to the screen. 

“Jane Austen in pastels? Sounds delightful,” he replied as he handed you a beer.

“Perfect,” you replied, hitting play. 

The movie started and you both dive headfirst into the pizza in front of you, not worrying about good manners at all. 

Marcus scooped up the dipping sauce and leaned back to get comfortable. 

“Hey!” you said, reaching out for the sauce. 

“It’s not my fault you only picked up one sauce,” he explained, feigning innocence. 

You scurried across the couch and huddled in close to him.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to hover and share,” you explained, actually thankful for the excuse to be near him. Your mouth was watering, and you were pretty sure it wasn’t just from the fresh pizza scent. 

Marcus smiled softly at you before he said, “That’s just fine.”

You two worked through the pizza quickly, both leaning back with your second beers in hand. After finishing the pizza you didn’t both move back to your side of the couch, choosing instead to stay entangled with Marcus. It wasn’t the first time you had curled up with Marcus during movie night, but it was the first time it happened during a movie that wasn’t a horror film. 

You watched the pastel colors dance across the screen, but felt your attention pulled more by the man next to you than the actors on the screen. Though you’ve read the book before, and this wasn’t the first film adaptation of it you’ve seen which helped you follow the story through your distraction. 

Marcus clearly also had a familiarity with the material, he would laugh a second before the joke landed, or whisper a line alongside the actors on screen. He pulled you closer to him as he laughed, and the action seemed accidental and unconscious, but you didn’t point it out, afraid it would cause him to let you go. 

As the film approached it’s romantic climax, you felt Marcus freeze around you. You couldn’t understand why. 

On screen you heard Mr. Knightley say, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” and Marcus brushed his thumb across the exposed flesh of your forearm and your breath caught in your chest. You realized Marcus was holding his breath as you covered his hand with yours. 

“I like this movie,” you said in a whisper. 

“Yeah, me too,” he replied with a breathy voice. 

“Austen knew something about love, huh?” was all you could think to say. 

“Mr. Knightley speaks the truth,” Marcus said, his hand travelling to your waist and turning you to face him, “It would be easier to talk about feelings if they weren’t so all consuming.”

You turned into him, bringing your gaze to meet his warm brown eyes and you felt your heart racing in your chest. 

“What feelings are those?” you ask him, desperate for the answer you never let yourself wish for. 

He pushed his lips against yours firmly, desperate with need and a complete lack of self-restraint.

It didn’t take you any time at all to react. You threw your leg over him and straddled his waist, wrapping your hands around his neck and grabbing fistfulls of his soft, brown hair in your hands and pulling. 

He broke the kiss for a moment to just look at you and positively beamed at him. 

“I’m sorry, we don’t-” he started to say, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Marcus,” you said, pulling away, “Trust me, I want this.”

He smiled at you like a man seeing the stars for the first time and pulled you back to him for another kiss. He gripped your hips so tightly it locked you in place, but that was fine by you - there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be than sitting in his lap and kissing Marcus Pike. 

The movie ended in the background, but neither of you paid any attention. Instead you spent the rest of the night holding each other, kissing, and just smiling uncontrollably. 

When you started to yawn, Marcus offered you some clean, cozy pyjamas and offered to bunk out on the couch so you could take his bed. 

“I don’t want to assume anything,” he said, ever the gentleman. 

“Come to bed with me, Marcus,” you said, leading him to his bedroom. 

Falling asleep in his arms was better than anything you could have ever imagined, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time you spent a night like this. 

Birthday Challenge Masterlist

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog​

#marcus pike #marcus pike x gn!reader #the mentalist #pedro pascal #birthday challenge